Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 01 - Murder Off the Books (15 page)

“No.” Rachel bounced to her feet and began pacing the living room. “No to all your questions. Why do you insist on believing the worst of Dan? He’s not a criminal; he’s not a murderer. Why aren’t you out there investigating? Out there finding the truth?”

Whiskey whined and strained against the fingers Mac had wrapped around her collar to keep her at his side.

“Tell me what you know about Lenore,” Mac demanded. “How long has Dan been involved with her? Is he still in contact with her?”

Rachel made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “I don’t know Lenore Adams. I don’t know that Dan knows Lenore Adams. Why don’t you ask her these questions? In fact why don’t you go ask her right now and leave me in peace?”

Mac narrowed his eyes in consternation, but held his tongue. He didn’t know what he’d said to set her off and at the moment he didn’t really care. He did know she was giving him a headache and he was operating on far too little sleep to deal with her temper.

Rachel continued her rant, her words picking up speed at the same time as her feet. She marched over to the front door and flung it open. She turned to face him, her voice strident. “I’m sick and tired of looking up and finding you on my doorstep, or worse yet, following me around. I’ve got my own problems without you trying to make me responsible for finding my brother. You want my brother–get out there and find him yourself.”

The detective gladly got to his feet, but before he could make his escape, the open doorway next to Rachel filled with people.

“Hi, Mrs. Brenner. Hi, Mr. Sullivan,” Carrie said with a grin, walking into the house. “Are you two having a fight? We could hear the shouting from the street.” Ray followed her, his hands stuffed in his back pockets, embarrassment etched across his face.

Whiskey continued to sit next to the sofa, her brown eyes following the action, but returning time and again to stare at the kitchen door, a soft growl marking her discontent.

Rachel swallowed hard and avoided everyone’s eyes. “This isn’t a good time for me. Maybe everyone could go home now and I’ll set aside an hour tomorrow at the funeral home for an interrogation. You can all show up and question me to your heart’s content.”

Ray’s expression changed from embarrassment to mortification. “See, Carrie! I told you we should have called first. You said yourself she took a sick day.” Ray tugged on Carrie’s elbow. “Sorry, Mrs. Brenner. We’re out of here.”

Carrie shrugged off his hand. “Don’t tell me what to do Raymond Kozlowski. I have something important to discuss with Mrs. Brenner. And I need to talk to Mr. Sullivan about the case. Sam was counting on at least one of us to come through for him.” She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and tossed it to him. “Maybe you should go wait in the truck. Here’s my cell phone, since you misplaced yours at the kennel. Go call your new girlfriend, while I take care of business.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. Geez, Carrie. I don’t even know her.”

“But you want to know her. Guess maybe you’d pay me more attention if I shaved my head.”

Mac, who’d been working his way around the arguing kids in his quest for the door and freedom, paused. “Are you talking about JJ? Have you been to my office tonight?”

Ray nodded. “A girl was working on your computer. We didn’t get her name.”

“Not because Ray wasn’t interested,” Carrie mumbled, walking farther into the room and plopping down on the sofa next to Whiskey. “He thinks she–”

Pointedly ignoring Carrie’s comment, Ray interrupted with,” We wanted to know if you’d found any leads. Sam was already worried and then when Mrs. Brenner didn’t go to work today, he about lost it. We promised to check on his mom and ask you what was going on.”

“A status report,” Carrie added, absently patting Whiskey’s head when the dog laid her head in the teen’s lap. “You write up status reports for your clients, don’t you?”

Mac bit back a grin. “JJ is going to be doing that for me. I’ll send her by the garage tomorrow with one.”

Ray smiled at the detective, then looked down at the carpet, bracing for the explosion.

Carrie glared at both males. “We’ll take a verbal one now. After all Ray isn’t paying you enough for paper.”

“Hey!” Rachel shouted from her position by the still open door. “Remember me? Last time I checked, this was my house. It’s late and I want to go to bed. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m planning on going to work tomorrow. I don’t want to be a bad hostess but everyone get out. Now!”

“What about Sam?” Carrie pouted, slowly getting to her feet. “What should we tell him?”

Rachel sighed. “Tell him to call his mother. Tomorrow. After class.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” Carrie reminded her. “He doesn’t have any Saturday classes.”

Mac read Rachel’s expression correctly and prudently motioned to Ray and Carrie to precede him out the door. He had to stick his head back inside to whistle for Whiskey.

“Keep up, will you,” he grumbled to the dog as she finally appeared in the doorway. “I told you it was too late to visit.”

Whiskey whined in response, turning her head back for one last look at the kitchen.

***

Between the street light and Dewey Wilson’s new security lights, Rachel’s front yard had the appearance of early dusk even though the sun had been down for more than six hours.

Mac and Ray watched Carrie angrily stalk past them without a word and get into Ray’s truck.

Ray made no move to join her, instead reaching down to stroke Whiskey’s head. “You’re still driving Sean’s car?”

“Yeah.” Mac waited with his hands in his pockets, his eyes still trained on Ray’s truck and the angry teen slouched down in the passenger seat.

“Sean called me. Told me what happened in Warrenton.”

Mac nodded. “I figured. You hanging out with him now?”

“Not really. He’s just bored, being stuck at home. His real friends are busy at school.”

Ray kneeled down and took a close look at the dog. “Who would hurt Whiskey? I know it wasn’t Uncle Dan.”

“Yeah. Well, ‘Uncle Dan’ is going to get blamed for a lot of things, if he doesn’t turn himself in–get this mess straightened out.”

Ray looked up at the detective, appearing to consider and discard a response. He returned his attention to Whiskey. “Too bad Whiskey can’t talk. She could tell you who the real killer is.”

The dog whined and licked the boy’s cheek.

Mac chuckled. “I’m sure if Whiskey gets within sight or smell of her abductor, she’ll find a way to tell me.”

“Ray, come on,” Carrie yelled from the truck. “I’m supposed to work tomorrow morning, too. The dead can’t wait.”

Ray sighed, remaining where he was.

Whiskey gave him another lick.

“Animals are a lot easier to deal with than people,” Ray mumbled.

“True.” Mac looked back at Rachel’s house, noticing that the lights were still on. A curtain moved in one of the living room windows and he wondered why she was watching them. “You better get going before Carrie wakes up the neighborhood.”

***

Dan looked up as the door opened. “About time! Sitting in a pantry has to be the most boring thing I’ve–”

“Shut up and get out of there. Try hiding in a closet for hours while burglars or worse pillage and plunder though your house, then I’ll listen to you whine.”

“Pillage and plunder? Are you talking about last Sunday night? I thought you said you just lost a smoked ham? It was probably just kids.” Dan scrambled up from the floor and followed her from the kitchen to the living room.

“A half of a ham.” Rachel blushed and then sheepishly added, “Someone put $20 in the funeral home mailbox the next day.”

Dan grinned. “So the pillagers just robbed you of some pork. Scary dudes, all right. I’m surprised you’re able to sleep at night.”

She grabbed a pillow off the sofa and threw it at him. “Hey, having your house broken into is a big deal to normal people. I don’t care what they took; they shattered a window and invaded my home.”

“Sorry,” he walked over and gave her a hug, “I’m a miserable excuse for a brother and I’ve been nothing but trouble to you from the day I was born.”

Rachel rested her head on his shoulder. She took a deep breath, tightening her arms around him, glad to have him where she could take care of him. “That’s not entirely true. You were a cute baby. Much better than my dolls.”

“And then I got big enough to pull the heads off your dolls.”

She jerked back and glared at him. “Mom told me Buster did that!”

Dan grinned. “She knew you liked the dog more than me. Figured you’d forgive him.”

Rachel leaned back and punched his shoulder. “I really do hate you.”

“I know.” He gave her another hug. “Got anything else to eat? All this talk of ham has me hungry again.”

Chapter 21

“Your problem is that you don’t understand women,” Jeff announced as he signed for a UPS delivery. He pointed the guy in brown towards an empty table in the corner of his office. “Put the copy machine over there.”

“What was wrong with the old copy machine?” Mac asked from his spot on Jeff’s sofa. He was more than ready to change the subject. It wasn’t as if either of them were experts on women, even if his friend claimed a certain expertise based on surviving thirty years of marriage and raising three daughters.

Jeff crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of his desk. “Sean and some of his friends were goofing off–well, let’s just say that Myrna found one of the copies they made and refused to touch the old machine again. A man of my station can’t be seen making his own damn copies, so it was fire Myrna or get a virgin machine.”

“What is she, a hundred and five? Didn’t Myrna work for your father?”

“Yeah. And she’s been here since she was eighteen. I’m not sure she’d go even if I did get up the courage to fire her. The only way she’s leaving here is in….” He pointed to the casket showcase room down the hall.

“What are you doing with the old machine?”

“You want it?”

“Well, the secretary you picked out for me gave me a list of vital equipment that I’m to acquire immediately. A copier is at the top.” Mac grinned. “I don’t think JJ will be freaked by the machine’s spotty past.”

“Very funny. I grounded Sean an extra week for that escapade.”

“Consecutively or to run concurrently with his four-day school suspension?”

“Consecutively.”

“Ouch. Where is he anyway? Have you banned him from your work place?”

“Hell, no. He’ll be back here on Monday, minding the store while I’m in Baltimore buying caskets. Today, he’s at home anxiously waiting for his sisters to arrive.”

Mac raised his eyebrows. “Misses them, does he?”

Jeff laughed. “I should have said he’s waiting for the presents they bring him. The girls spoil him rotten when they come for a visit.”

“How are my favorite women?” Mac smiled, his eyes lighting up.

“According to their mother, they’re doing well. I’ll make up my own mind after I take a look at them.”

“Has Mary Kathleen decided on what she’s going to do after graduation? She told me that she’ll mow lawns before she teaches, but
….”

“Yeah, beats me what else a history major is going to do to earn a living. I really might have to look into making a trade for one of those John Deere riding mowers by summer.”

“I saw Bridget’s latest article. Doubt that she’s on the Boston Police Department’s Christmas list anymore.” The ex-cop chuckled.

“She’d never have been able to pierce the blue wall of silence if you hadn’t given her that name
….”

“Good cops hate bad cops as much as everyone else does,” Mac said soberly.

“She could be a good writer here in D.C. I don’t understand what she sees in that city.”

The detective chuckled. “Yeah, you do. I hear she’s sporting a diamond engagement ring.”

Jeff glared at his friend. “Bridget’s claims of being engaged are a mite premature. I’ve not even met the potential groom, much less given them my blessing on any engagement.”

Mac held his tongue. Last time he’d spoken to Jeff’s independent middle child, she’d hinted at an elopement. It might have been her intention that he tell her father, but that was one job Mac wasn’t taking on.

Moving to a safer subject, Mac asked, “And how’s my goddaughter?” His face beamed as he spoke of Jeff’s eldest. “I think I woke her when I called last week.”

Jeff’s grin matched his oldest friend’s. “They work the interns as many hours as they can. Maura claims she hasn’t slept more than six hours in four months.”

“What’s her rotation this month?”

“Proctology,” Jeff guffawed. “I heard Kathleen on the phone with her a couple of days ago. For a woman raised by the Good Sisters of Charity, the fart jokes were flying fast and furious.”

Mac fell back against the couch laughing. At last, he wiped his eyes and asked, “Has Maura decided on a specialty?”

“Right now she’s talking about being an Emergency Room doctor.” Jeff grinned.

Mac got to his feet. “An undertaker and a doctor–don’t let them bring you up on charges of collusion. Hey, you should get Mary Kathleen to go to law school. Cover all the bases.”

“I’ll suggest it to her. Or you can.” Jeff stepped aside as the UPS man wheeled the large box into the room. “Kathleen is requiring your presence at her Sunday dinner table. Tomorrow at 1 P.M. sharp. I’m not supposed to take no for an answer. She said to bring Whiskey and she’d fill her up with roast beef.”

The dog raised her head when she heard her name. She gave Jeff a short bark.

“Well, the dog’s accepted. How about her master?”

Mac smiled. “I’m smart enough not to turn down one of Kathleen’s home-cooked meals. Set a plate for both of us.”

***

“You shouldn’t be using my phone.” Rachel nervously watched her office door, wishing she’d had a chance to lock it. When she’d picked up her phone, she’d never dreamed her brother would be on the line. He’d been sound asleep when she’d left the house, no doubt exhausted from his week on the run.

“I needed to talk to you,” Dan argued. “I didn’t think walking down the street to a pay phone was a good idea. Or maybe you’d rather I asked one of the neighbors to use their phone. I saw Elinor out sweeping the walk in front of her house earlier. Maybe–”

“Stay away from the windows too. Are you crazy?”

“No. I’m bored. When are you coming home? How come you don’t have cable?”

“I told you I work Saturday mornings. And I can’t afford cable. I’ll be home around 12:30, which is what I said in the note I left tacked on the refrigerator door. Can’t believe you didn’t see it there!”

“Sorry. I wasn’t interested in the stuff on the outside of the refrigerator. Do you know you’re out of milk?”

“Yes!” She sighed and tried to calm down. There was no reason for anyone to suspect her brother was at her house–not with all the people who’d been going in and out. She really doubted that her phone line was tapped. And if it was, it was too late now to worry about it. “Hear any sirens approaching?”

“No.” He chuckled. “Sis, are you okay? You need to lighten up. If me being here is freaking you out too–”

“I’m fine. No, actually, I’m not fine. I’m not going to be fine until you’re no longer on the FBI’s most wanted list. But I’d rather have you hiding out in my house than worry about where you are and if you’re about to be shot by some gung-ho cop.” She took another calming breath. “Okay. What was so important that you had to call me here at work?”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Dan?”

“I told you already. Do you really think I’m on the FBI–”

“Tell me again!” She clenched her teeth in anticipation of his answer.

“Uh. You’re out of milk.”

Rachel slammed the phone down, hanging up before she said something she’d regret.

“Idiot!”

A knock sounded on her door and Carrie stuck her head in. “Did you find the mail I put in your in-basket. I took care of some of it for you, but I left the personal stuff. Some of it was forwarded from Franklin’s.”

Rachel nervously ran her hand through her hair. “Okay. I’ll put it on my ‘to do’ list.”

***

The smell was the first thing Mac noticed when he opened his office door. Paint. Fresh paint. Good thing he’d left Whiskey with Jeff. The dog had enough trouble breathing with her sore ribs; she didn’t need to be sniffing paint fumes.

The second thing that caught his attention was the little bell that chimed as the door closed behind him. It hadn’t been there the last time he’d come through the door.

The third was the absence of all his junk furniture.

“Hey.” JJ stuck her head out of the back room, her black hair now sporting white streaks. “Hope you like white walls. I thought we’d go for a black and white look–kind of like those detective movies from the 1940s. A friend of mine who works in a body shop is painting all your old metal furniture black. Then, I’ve got a floor guy coming on Monday to remove the shag carpet. Did you know you’ve got wooden floors underneath? A lot of sanding, some stain, a little polishing–it’ll look great.”

When she paused to take a breath, Mac managed to ask the most important question on his mind. “How much is this going to cost me? Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. When I said I couldn’t afford a secretary, I also meant that I couldn’t afford to redecorate.”

JJ walked into the main room and Mac got a look at her outfit: baggy black jeans that were losing their battle with gravity, a purple tube top, no shoes, and a lot of paint. “Won’t cost you anything–well, not real money anyway.”

Mac raised his eyebrows. “What kind of money?”

“I bartered your services and mine. I didn’t actually spend a dime.”

“And what are ‘we’ doing? Exactly.”

“Snake, the guy from the body shop, needs you to find his sister. They got separated when their parents divorced. I already did a computer search and tracked her down. Thought I’d wait to tell Snake until next week, make him feel like he got a good deal.”

“And the floor guy?”

“Philip? He’s gay and wanted a date with you. You’ll need to buy a leather outfit.”

Mac blanched. “What the–”

“I was joking, geez. You need to chill out a little. The floor guy needs a computer for his kid and some tutoring on how to use it. I told him I’d find him a deal on a used one and meanwhile, he could come here a couple of hours a week and I’ll have him surfing like a pro before the month is out.” Before he could ask, she added, “You have to evaluate the paint store’s security system needs and supervise the installation of a new one. Two days work, tops.”

“I don’t have–”

“I told him it would be next month before you could do it.”

Mac sighed and then reluctantly grinned. “No wonder Jeff liked you when you answered his newspaper ad. He probably sensed a kindred spirit.”

JJ shrugged and shifted her bare feet, using one to rub at the dried paint that was splattered on top of the other. “I’m not sure he was sensing anything when I called. He sounded pretty out of it.”

Mac stared at her feet. They were smaller than he’d thought considering the size of the work boots she usually clomped around in.

“I didn’t want to get paint on my boots,” she explained, noticing the direction of his gaze. “Don’t worry I won’t sue you if I step on something.”

“Huh?”

JJ grinned. “Never mind. You know how to use a paintbrush? It’s lots of fun. If you help we can finish in a couple of hours.”

“Do I look like Huck Finn to you?”

“It was worth a try; worked for Tom Sawyer and his fence.”

“I’d love to, but I have to track down a murderer and get a hair cut. I’m just here now to pick up some notes and to let you know about a delivery.” He smiled proudly. She wasn’t the only one who could find a good deal. “I acquired a copy machine for us this morning–top of the line model, color, only a couple of years old.”

“Wow. I thought you were broke? How did you manage one of those?”

He looked around. She’d managed to paint most of the main room, except for the ceiling. “Good timing. I was in the right place at the right time. It’s used but works fine.”

“Great. It will make billing a lot easier. I’ll cancel your Kinko’s account.”

He turned and glared at her. “Where are my files? And what Kinko’s account?”

JJ pointed him towards the back room. “Let me worry about the details, why don’t you. What you don’t know won’t bother you.”

“Fine,” he mumbled, exiting the room and wondering what other surprises she had in store for him. The back room was just as empty; except for some file boxes and a ladder.

“JJ?” he called out, kneeling down and sorting through a cardboard file box that had items from his desk drawers.

“Yeah?” She walked into the room and started up the ladder she was using to paint trim at the top of the wall.

“When the copier gets here, you might want to use some disinfectant on it.” He grinned, staring down into the file box so she couldn’t see his expression.

“Sure.” She dipped her brush into a paint can balanced on the top rung. “Why?”

He chuckled and pocketed his notes. “What you don’t know won’t bother you. I’ll be back by later this afternoon. If you’re still here I’ll bring you some takeout. Do you eat pizza?”

Her eyes lit up. “I like Chinese better.”

“Chinese it is.” Mac nodded. “I’ll stop by the Golden Dragon on my way back.”