Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 01 - Murder Off the Books (14 page)

Gina reached for a roll and a butter pat. “I have no idea, but of course, it doesn’t really matter now.” She slathered the butter on the bread, took a bite, and smiled. “His will specifies that I inherit all property.”

***

Ray hesitated. “I’m not sure we should just show up.”

“You’re paying him. Shouldn’t he be giving you some kind of report every day?”

“I’m not sure you get that kind of service when you’ve only put down a dollar. Besides I think I fired him.” Ray picked at the scab on his thumb, staring resolutely at the worn rubber treads on the steps. He hated arguing with Carrie, but he wasn’t sure about this. In fact, that was wrong. He was absolutely sure that they shouldn’t just show up at Mr. Sullivan’s office, which was exactly what they were doing.

The two teens had been walking up the long flight of steps to the private detective’s office when Ray stalled on the fourth step from the landing and voiced his objections one more time.

“You didn’t give him written notice. You can’t fire him without it,” Carrie pressed, but Ray just gnawed on his lower lip and refused to move.

Carrie tried a different tack. “With Mrs. Brenner out sick today, we need to know what’s going on before we call Sam. He’s worried sick about his uncle and might end up dropping out of school if we don’t take care of things down here.”

She left the thought hanging in the air. Then without a word, Ray marched past Carrie and knocked on the office door with the hand-drawn sign, “Sullivan Investigations.”

“Come in.”

Carrie and Ray exchanged confused glances at the feminine voice that invited them to enter, then walked in.

They stopped just inside the doorway.

“We’re looking for Mr. Sullivan,” Carrie declared.

“He’s not here,” the girl at the computer said without looking up.

“When will he be back?” Carrie asked.

“Don’t know.”

“Where is he?” Carrie pushed.

“None of your business.”

“Let’s go,” Ray whispered, his hand on Carrie’s arm, pulling her out the door.

The blonde shook off the restraint and marched across the room.

“Don’t you go to Concordia?”

JJ slowly looked up and faced her questioner. She remained silent.

“Don’t I know you from–from…Maguire’s lit class?” Carrie insisted.

JJ stared at her for a moment, then let her eyes drift over to the doorway where Ray stood, one foot out in the hallway.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a small smile hovering at her lips.

“I was–we were–I need to see Mr. Sullivan,” Ray sputtered.

“He’s out of the office. Would you like to leave a message?”

“I’m not sure,” Ray said hesitantly.

Carrie interrupted, “Tell him that Carrie Taylor and Ray Kozlowski want to talk to him.”

JJ never took her eyes off the shy mechanic. “How do you spell your last name and where did you get the ankh?”

Ray’s eyes widened and he moved his fingers to the heavy metal pendant that hung around his neck from a silver chain. With a small smile he said, “It’s K-O-Z-L-O-W-S-K-I, and my mother gave it to my father when they got married.”

“Do you know what it means?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to symbolize health and happiness, something like that,” Ray answered, still rubbing the heavy pendant between his fingers.

“It was found in ancient Egyptian tombs. Kind of like the key to life. I have one too.” JJ reached under her black t-shirt and pulled out a similar necklace.

“I never knew anyone else who had one,” Ray said, moving closer to the desk.

“If you could just have Mr. Sullivan call me,” Carrie said sharply. “He can reach me at the funeral home. He has the number.”

“Does he have your number?” JJ asked, looking at Ray and continuing to ignore Carrie.

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ll give it to you. It’s 555-8706. That’s my work number.”

“It won’t be your work number for long if you start getting calls there,” Carrie interrupted. “Have Mr. Sullivan call me. Mrs. Brenner won’t mind.” She grabbed Ray by the arm and pulled him towards the door.

“I’ll have Mr. Sullivan get in touch,” JJ said, looking directly at Ray. “Or I’ll follow up myself.”

Carrie closed the office door with a flourish.

***

Sitting inside Sean’s recently repaired car, parked in the lot outside the Nissan service department, Mac flipped his cell phone shut and replaced it in his jacket pocket. He turned to the occupant of the passenger seat. “Well, girl. The lieutenant is going to talk with Ms. Fieldstone tomorrow morning about getting a detective into Lenore Adams’ office. Do you remember Bobbie? Greeley is going to pass her off as a student aide.”

Whiskey tried scratching behind one ear, but Mac could see that her injuries made the movement painful. The vet had told him that there was nothing broken, just deep bruising. Whiskey would be walking gingerly for a few days. The blood tests hadn’t shown any drugs in the dog’s system but the vet suspected something had been used to subdue the dog. Mac agreed. Otherwise, Whiskey would never have let a stranger, or a friend for that matter, put a muzzle on her.

Whiskey whined and Mac reached over and scratched for her. She closed both eyes and made a deep sound indicating her satisfaction with his solution.

“Wish you’d give me a clue as to who took you out of this car last night.” Mac stroked the top of her head, and then behind her ear again. “But hey, back to Bobbie. I’m thinking that as Lenore’s new secretary, she might be able to pick up a lead on Dan Thayer. If JJ’s vibe meter is any good, Dan and Lenore must be staying in touch somehow.”

Whiskey growled, turning her head so he could reach her other ear.

“Yeah, I know. Could be the other way around–Lenore’s the killer and Dan’s just a patsy for her. She certainly has knowledge about the computer contracts and the ability to hack into the college accounting records.”

Whiskey whined.

“Okay, but even if Dan didn’t shoot Malwick and Lopez, he’s gonna take the rap for it if he stays on the run. It’s past time to bring him in.”

The dog opened her eyes and gave a short bark.

“You’re right. It’s late, but I bet she’s still up. Let’s go see how Rachel’s doing.”

Chapter
20

Deciding to indulge herself, Rachel poured another capful of bubble bath into the steaming water before stepping into the old claw-footed tub. There had been no money to remodel the bathroom when she’d inherited the house. Now, she realized with an ironic smile, the old fashioned tub had come back into vogue. Maybe she’d get it re-glazed when she saved up some money.

Sinking up to her chin in the lilac-scented water, she double-checked that her cordless phone and cell phone were within reach. She’d waited all day for Dan’s call; she wasn’t going to miss it now.

Snickers watched from her perch on the vanity, the sounds of contented purring echoing off the bathroom tiles.

Rachel squeezed a blob of lilac bath gel onto a loofah and soaped up her arms and legs, noticing the large bruise on her knee from her close encounter with the gravestone.

“You’re lucky I didn’t break my neck–running around in the dark, trying to keep up with that man. Not that he even gave me a thank-you for hauling him and his dog over to the vets.”

The cat spread her paws and licked each talon, ignoring the ruminations of her housemate.

“I don’t care how worried he was. A simple ‘thank you’….” Moving the sponge to her feet, Rachel noticed her toenails needed polishing, badly. And her fingernails. “A hair cut too,” she mused, an imaginary ‘to do’ list taking shape.

“Snickers, remind me to tell Sam that I used some of the bath gel he got me for Mother’s Day.”

The cat looked up and stared, her expression reproachful.

“Hey.” Rachel flicked a bubble at her.

Snickers hissed indignantly and then turned around to face the mirror.

Well, maybe not, Rachel considered, closing her eyes and mentally counting back the number of months since he’d presented her with it–two Mother’s Days ago. Reclining backwards in the water, she rested her head against the porcelain and wondered where the days were going.

Even before this mess with Dan, time had been slipping away from her. She seemed to always be too busy to do all the things she intended to do, all the things she needed to do. All the things that cost money that she didn’t have. She refused to ask Aunt Ella for help. Her finances were her own problem. Still it was a struggle to find the money for Sam’s college tuition and maintenance on the house.

Bored, Snickers stood and arched her back, stretching, before curling up in the sink basin.

Rachel sank deeper into the fragrant water. Her van needed a tune-up, probably more. She was going to break her neck if she didn’t change the light bulb in the fixture above the stairs. She might break her neck changing it. Then there were the little things–renewing her TV Guide subscription, buying a new fern…. There was never a minute she could call her own. There was no time for leisurely bubble baths. Now with Dan’s situation and….

She sat up and leaned forward. Squeezing the loofah over one shoulder, she let the hot water and suds slide down her tense back. Repeating the action, she tried to shut off her mind and concentrate on the feel of the water flowing over her aching muscles. Charlie used to wash her back for
…. No! No, no, no, she wasn’t going to take that route down memory lane. Not now. Not ever.

Okay. She straightened. Maybe she really wasn’t the leisurely bath type. A five-minute shower in the morning left no time for this kind of depressing introspection. The commercials had it all wrong. Who could relax and drift away with all
…. The sound of the doorbell interrupted her analysis.

The cat’s head popped up above the sink rim.

“Snickers, we have company. Thank God.”

***

Mac realized immediately that he’d gotten her out of the bath. She smelled of flowers, a cloud of it rushed out the open door, enveloping him and Whiskey. He took a deep breath. Whiskey sneezed.

“Hello. This is a surprise. Don’t you guys ever sleep?”

He shrugged, a grin growing on his craggy face as he looked at her. Rachel’s hair was pinned up–mostly. Several long curls had escaped and threatened to topple the rest. Her face was damp, the lack of makeup exposing a smattering of freckles, and the long baseball jersey and sweat pants looked as though she’d hurriedly thrown them on. The faded t-shirt was turned wrong-side out.

When he didn’t say anything, Rachel blushed, a hand going towards her haphazard topknot. “What?”

“Blame Whiskey,” Mac quickly asserted, realizing he’d been caught staring. “I told her it was too late to visit but she wanted to thank you for taking care of her last night.”

Rachel smiled and held out a hand to the dog. “How are you, girl? Have you recovered from your adventure?”

The dog stepped forward and licked her hand.

“How is she?” Rachel asked, kneeling down and carefully stroking the dog’s head.

“Bruised, but otherwise okay. The vet thinks she was drugged but he couldn’t find any hard evidence for me. The blood tests were negative.”

“Shouldn’t she be home resting? Shouldn’t you? You look terrible.”

Rachel gazed up at him in concern and Mac realized that his lack of sleep in the past forty-eight hours was showing. Or maybe the fact that he hadn’t seen his razor since the day before was the major problem.

“We were on our way home. I just wanted to check on you.”

“Would you like to come in?” Rachel gave Whiskey one last pat and stood.

“No. We should
….” Mac paused as Whiskey disappeared into the interior of the house. “Where’s your cat?”

A yowl and a short yelp from the direction of the kitchen answered his question.

Rachel shook her head and motioned him inside. “Don’t worry, Snickers can take care of herself.”

Mac frowned and strode past her. “It’s not Snickers that I’m worried about.”

***

Whiskey nudged his knee and whined, the angry scratch on her nose a testament to her failure to make friends with the cat.

“You’ve had a rough week all right. Maybe you should stick around the office until I get through with this case. Did I tell you I hired a secretary?”

“Are you talking to me or to your dog?” Rachel asked carrying in a tray loaded with a coffee carafe, cups, and a plate of cookies.

Rising, Mac took the tray and set it on the low table in front of the sofa. “Sorry. I have a habit of talking to Whiskey; it’s my way of thinking out loud.”

Rachel chuckled, sitting down on the sofa and indicating he should do the same. “Talking to a dog looks saner than talking to yourself. Carrie catches me at it quite often at the funeral home.”

“Is your cat–”

“Snickers is on top of the refrigerator, feeling victorious. She’s not a big fan of dogs.”

Mac broke off a piece of oatmeal cookie and offered it to the dog. “I think Whiskey understands that now.”

Rachel poured him a cup of coffee. “Do you use cream or–”

“No. Black is fine.”

“You mentioned something about a secretary? It occurs to me that I know less about you than Whiskey knows about Snickers.”

“Jeff O’Herlihy decided that it was past time I had some office help. He ran an ad and sent someone over this afternoon. Since I knew the girl, I hired her on a temporary basis. Actually, you might have noticed her at Malwick’s funeral. She sat beside me.”

Rachel grinned. “The girl with the shaved head?”

“Only part of it is shaved–a strip over one ear,” Mac protested. He unthinkingly reached out and touched the relevant spot on Rachel’s head.

He froze, staring at his finger as a brown curl seemed to wrap itself around it.

Rachel cleared her throat, effectively breaking the spell, and he dropped his hand back to the sofa cushion.

“How do you know her?” she asked, her voice cracking.

Mac faced forward and picked up his coffee cup. He took a swallow of coffee, feeling a little lightheaded. He knew he needed to get some sleep; he was definitely losing it.

“Mac?”

“Huh?”

“How do you know her? Your new secretary?”

“She worked at the college in the Computer Department.” Mac considered his next words carefully. He trained his gaze on Rachel’s face, watching for a reaction. “She worked for your brother’s girlfriend–Lenore Adams.”

Rachel opened her mouth and then closed it.

A thump from the kitchen attracted both their attentions.

Whiskey gave a short bark, rising to her feet.

“Snickers.” Rachel stood and picked up the tray. “Let me feed her and then you can explain that last statement.”

“Can I help you with that?” He pointed to the tray.

“Just stay here and keep Whiskey occupied. I don’t think she’s in any condition to go another round with my cat.”

Mac and the dog watched her push through the swinging kitchen door. Both flinched a second later at the sound of breaking glass.

“Rachel?” Mac got to his feet, his fingers curling around Whiskey’s collar to keep her by his side.

Her voice came through the door. “Everything is fine. I just dropped a cup. Stay where you are, I’ll be right out.”

Mac sat back down, glancing at Whiskey. “I think the mention of Lenore’s name made her nervous. What do you think?”

Whiskey barked again, her eyes trained on the door.

Rubbing the knot that was forming at the base of his neck, Mac grimaced at the dog’s bark. “Oh, come on. Get your mind off that damn cat.”

***

“Hey, Sis. Any more of those oatmeal cookies? Or did you feed them all to your boyfriend?” A scruffy-looking Dan Thayer stuffed a cookie between his teeth and opened the refrigerator door, pulling out a half-empty carton of milk.

“Are you crazy
? Lower your voice. He’s not my boyfriend.” Rachel quickly bent over and picked up the broken coffee cup that had slid off the tray when she’d come to an abrupt stop after catching sight of him sitting on her kitchen counter.

“I don’t know. You two looked pretty cozy in there. Did you know your shirt is on inside out? How did that happen?” Dan raised his eyebrows and then laughed at her disgruntled expression.

Rachel looked down at her t-shirt and sighed. No wonder Mac had looked at her funny. “Mac is a detective hired by the college’s insurance company. He’s working with the police to find you. How did you get here? Is your car–”

He looked to the left and mumbled, “A friend dropped me off.”

Rachel snapped to attention. “Who dropped you–”

“Don’t worry about it. Nobody saw me. Tell me about your detective.” He finished the last of the cookies he’d found in a jar on the counter. “It’s after 10 P.M. The insurance company must be paying him really well.”

She frowned at her brother, then took a glass out of the cabinet and deftly grabbed the milk carton seconds before his lips touched the spout. She poured him a glass of milk and quickly replaced the carton in the refrigerator. “Here, drink this in the pantry. You need to hide until I get rid of him. Then I have a few things to say to you and you’re going to explain to me how the hell you got into this mess.”

Dan grinned. “It’s nice to see you again, too. How come you never showed the other night?”

“I decided to take a moonlight stroll through a cemetery instead.” She grabbed a cookie tin from the top of the refrigerator and handed it to him. “Here, knock yourself out. But do it quietly.”

***

“Is the cat okay?” The detective watched Rachel’s return with some concern. She seemed…agitated was the word that came to his mind.

“What?” She perched on the arm of an overstuffed chair, located at right angles to the sofa.

“Is the cat okay?” He repeated, a frown appearing on his face.

Rachel glanced over her shoulder towards the kitchen and gave him a quick smile. “She’s fine. It was just a cup.”

“The cat broke a cup too?”

“What?” She stared in confusion at him. “Oh the noise–before?”

Mac nodded, his attention diverted for a moment as Whiskey tensed and stared at the kitchen door.

Rachel shifted uneasily, her eyes on the dog.

“The noise?” he prompted, stroking Whiskey’s head and urging the dog to lie down.

“No, I broke a cup. Snickers…she just
….” Rachel stopped, her face flushing red.

He gave Rachel an encouraging look. “She just what?”

“Just knocked a can onto the floor,” she said in a rush.

“Tuna, I’m guessing,” Mac joked, wondering if her mind was dissolving or if the news of her brother’s relationship with Lenore Adams was the cause of her obvious distress.

“Huh?”

“The can?”

“What can?”

Mac shook his head, deciding to cut to the chase before the woman broke out in hives. “Why don’t you tell me what you know about Lenore Adams? Was she the woman who was going on vacation with your brother? And besides the affair–is Dan involved in some kind of fake invoice scheme with that woman?”