3 Loosey Goosey (12 page)

Even Ben, the traitor, had left. Of course, I was happy to see him go. My leap had at least accomplished one thing: he hadn’t been arrested. Of course, considering none of the police had been showing all that much interest in Ben or his practically nude companions until I ripped off his sign, one could argue that this was not so much an accomplishment as an I-didn’t-screw-up-too-bad.

I found Phyllis not too far from where I’d left her, interrogating what looked to be a tourist about the contents of her home.

“Have you seen Daniel?” I asked after pausing to smile at the woman caught in Phyllis’ web of acquirement. Which, by the way, I wanted to point out to my kind-of employee, maybe partner, we didn’t need to be doing at this time. Once the things from the Antlers arrived, Dusty Deals floors would be groaning under the weight.

“He was talking to some of those funny people earlier. I didn’t see him leave.”

Funny. HA! But they had all gone. At least, I assumed they had. I couldn’t see any of them and, what with the body paint and nudity, they were kind of hard to miss.

“Maybe he went inside the Capitol to use the bathroom.”

It was a long shot, but it was all I had. I trotted toward the front entrance. Halfway there, while passing a low-growing shrub, I tripped. I muttered a curse and did what any rational human being would do at such a time: I looked for the offending root or rock as if finding it would justify my clumsiness.

Except there was no root and there were no rocks.

Instead, there was a pair of well-used tennis shoes attached to two legs. Whoever owned them was lying face down, or at least the tennis shoes’ toes were pointed in a generally downward position.

I swallowed hard. My gut instinct was to assume the worst. I was, after all, on my third body. But logic told me I was over-reacting. Calm. That’s what I needed.

“Hello? Are you okay?” I shook the closest branch. “Do you need help? The police are right over there. I can call them.” I glanced over at the statue to assure myself that my claim was true, and it was, at least partially. With the protest over and their fun with me done, the officers were vacating the grounds too.

“Hello?” I called with new urgency. Then I shoved my hands into the shrub and forced myself into a closer position. I stared down at a face—the pale, closed-eyed face of Daniel Rowe.

I leapt out of the bush and screamed.

Once again, I was surrounded by police, but this time no one was cracking any jokes.

Fortunately, my scream had done as I’d intended and brought the two closest police officers running. George and Peter had been a bit slower to react. I told myself it was because they were further away and didn’t hear the urgency in my voice, but I had a sneaking suspicion that there was an element of “not again” to their speed or lack thereof.

Unfortunately, my vocal efforts had not stirred Daniel.

After an initial check for injuries and life, paramedics had been called.

I closed my eyes in relief when I realized what was happening. Not dead. I was still on body number three.

“How did he get under the bush?” I asked Peter, who stood by my side like one of the Terracotta Army, silent and strong.

Too silent. He didn’t bother to reply.

I tried again. “Is he hurt?”

This got a cocked brow. Which, since Daniel was obviously unconscious and, as far as I knew, not in the habit of napping under shrubs on the Capitol grounds, was completely fair.

“I don’t see any blood...”

A warning look caused me to turn my head and pretend interest instead in who else was arriving, or returning in most cases.

Marcy was back, as was Gary. I twisted my lips, wanting to ask him about the photo, but also realizing now was most definitely not the time.

Then, on the new arrival front, there was Stone. He parked his car right on 6th where I couldn’t miss it and stalked toward us like a pissed off mountain lion.

I glanced at Peter to find him still watching me, still warning.

I slumped forward in defeat.

“Ms. Mathews.” Stone’s smile was as sincere as a snake’s whisper. “I understand you’ve changed your m.o. a bit at least.”

I looked a question at him.

“Mr. Rowe is, fortunately, alive.” He squatted down in front of me. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

I looked up at Peter. Like his terracotta friends, he stood still and silent.

Left on my own, I decided to handle things my way. I stood up and busied myself with brushing dead grass and leaves off of my jeans.

Stone stood too.

After what felt like enough time that I’d at least regained a certain amount of upper hand, I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “No.”

“No?”

“You asked if there was anything I’d like to tell you, and I’ve answered. No.”

“You aren’t cooperating?”

Assessing my risk here, I thinned my lips. “What is there to cooperate with?”

“Mr. Rowe is...” He gestured to where Daniel was being loaded onto a stretcher. “Not at his best. Do you know anything about it?”

“I know that approximately...” I calculated time passage in my head. “…twenty minutes ago, I tripped over his feet, determined something was not right, and called to these police officers...” I swung my arm out to encompass the men standing around me. “…and now I am talking to you.”

The paramedic lifted Daniel’s stretcher so it rolled across the grass. I suddenly realized just how young he was. A stab of something horribly akin to guilt lanced through me.

Maybe I did know something. But if so, I sure as hell didn’t want to tell it to Stone.

Petty? Maybe, but you reap what you sow and all that.

I looked back at him, resolve straightening my spine. “I want to talk to—”

“An attorney? Already? Isn’t that a bit—”

“George,” I interrupted. “I might know something, but I want to tell it to George.”

My announcement was not met with pleasure, not by Stone or George, who looked horrified when he was dragged over to talk to me and told he was required to perform real police work.

I waited for Stone to walk away, but he just stood there, arms crossed and eyes focused on me.

I started to object, but George stopped me with a whispered, “Don’t make this worse.”

Disgruntled, but wanting to get this over, I turned my back to Stone, forcing George to turn too, and started talking.

“I saw Daniel this morning, and he told me something that might be related to Tiffany’s death.” I could hear Stone shifting his weight behind me. George’s gaze slid to the detective, but I kept my back turned and kept talking as if I hadn’t noticed.

“I don’t know if he mentioned it, but the night of the opening, after everyone else had left, he talked to Tiffany.” I paused for effect.

George waited, patient and maybe a tad bored.

I blew a breath out through my nose. They would see. “He thought she was high on something.” I stepped back, giving room for my bombshell to explode.

“And?”

George did not seem impressed.

“He said she was acting funny. Eyes dilated and all that.”

Behind me, Stone cleared his throat. After a furtive glance at the detective, George turned to the side with the pretense of scribbling something in his notepad.

Stone moved into view. “And you think this relates to Daniel’s injury? Would you like to explain how?”

Daniel was injured? I hadn’t noticed an injury. He might simply have collapsed, though not from heat. It wasn’t warm today, but the excitement of historic cattle coupled with body-painted protesters could have given him a case of the vapors.

So Stone’s comment that Daniel was injured was a slip, even if it was a small one. This gave me new confidence.

“Well, he told me about Tiffany. Maybe he told someone else.”

“Someone who would then...”

Stone’s steady stare was making me nervous. Confidence lost, I threw up my hands. “I don’t know! I just knew he hadn’t told the police, and I thought it might be important. What with me finding her dead and all the next morning.”

“And now you find Daniel.” Stone tapped his finger against his lip as if thinking, adding two and two, and getting twenty-two by the looks of things.

He turned his focus back to me. “When you see your brother, tell him we need to have another talk.”

Then he stalked off, leaving me to feel that somehow I had just made things three hundred times worse.

What else was new?

Chapter 11

Dismissed by Stone, I didn’t dally. I didn’t bother saying goodbye to Peter or George either.

They’d been no help.

Instead I scanned the grounds, looking to see if Marcy and Gary, mainly Gary, were still around.

They were, and it appeared they were looking for me.

I trotted toward them, looking, I hoped, friendly and not at all like I was about to wrestle Gary’s camera from his hand and crush it like an empty soda can under my foot.

“The paramedics wouldn’t tell us anything. What did Stone say?” Gary asked.

It took me a minute to remember that they were here to check on Daniel and that they might actually have friendly feelings for him. Not that I wanted anything to happen to the reporter, but my concern was controllable.

“Not much.”

“George said you found him.” This from Marcy, looking a mix of terrified and relieved. Terrified, I’m sure, because Daniel’s injury left an opening in the crime reporting department, and Marcy was a lot more about killer cute than just plain old killer. Relieved, I guessed, because she hoped to just talk to me rather than having to approach Stone herself.

I couldn’t say I blamed her for that.

Feeling generous, and hoping if I gave a little, Gary would give a lot—in the form of a certain picture or two—I filled them in on how I had found Daniel and what Stone had said about him being injured.

“And he was under there?” Gary pointed to the shrub where a few officers in uniform were still poking around.

I turned to stare at the space. “Yes.”

Marcy angled her head as if that would give her a better view. “Kind of weird, don’t you think?”

Gary and I looked at her in question.

She fiddled with her pencil. “I mean, finding him under the shrub. It’s kind of like how the chef was found, under that van. How’d he get under there?”

It was a good question. We all turned to stare at the shrub.

“Maybe he tripped and fell into it,” I offered. “Stone said he was injured, but maybe that means he hit his head when he fell.”

Gary held up his camera, zoomed in, and clicked off a few frames. “He wouldn’t have fallen through, though, would he? Some of those branches are pretty thick. I think he would have gotten caught.”

I could see what Gary meant. If Daniel had tripped, as I did, he wouldn’t have fallen through the shrub, he would have fallen onto it.

“I also didn’t notice a lot of leaves on his clothes,” I contributed.

“Were they torn?” Marcy asked.

“Not that I could see, but obviously, if he was injured, I missed that too.”

Marcy’s phone dinged. She waved an apology and scurried to the side to take the call in private.

Giving me the perfect opportunity to talk to Gary about that photo.

“Wild day, huh?” I asked, starting out casual. I didn’t want to look crazed or anything.

“Definitely. Especially for you.” He grinned, and his eyes did the little crinkle around the corners thing that I used to find so appealing. Now it just made me wonder if my charm was working.

“I made a bit of a scene.” I smiled, good natured, nothing bothering me. No siree bob.

“You could say that.” He held his camera up, giving me an opening.

“I saw you had your camera.” And was snapping the hell out of it. “Too bad the shots probably weren’t family-friendly enough for the
News
.” Right? I looked at him expectantly.

“Oh, some weren’t, but there were a few. In fact...”

My phone chirped, reminding me that I’d stupidly charged it in the Jeep on the way over. I clutched at my pocket as if suppressing the sound would change what I felt coming.

“...I already sent the best ones to Ted.”

I jerked my phone from my pocket. There on the screen were three ominous little words.
Lucy. CALL ME
.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

After damning Ted, the editor of the
Daily News
, in my head for about the millionth time in the five years I’d known him, I shut off my phone completely.

You were trying to reach me? I’m sorry. I forgot to charge my phone... again
.

My mother could and would get onto me about that too, but hopefully by the time she had a chance, the initial shock of whatever she’d just seen on the Internet would have passed, or she would have managed to have tracked down Ben and taken her shock, hurt, disappointment, etc. out on him.

I stopped for a minute. I’d suddenly realized that my brother’s stand against cell phones most likely had very little to do with the survival of gorillas and everything to do with the survival of his sanity.

The sneak.

Marcy returned with her phone off and a nervous look on her face. “Daniel’s going to be okay, but he’ll be out of work for a while. The doctors think someone hit him on the head.” She licked her lips and looked a bit green.

“He couldn’t have just hit it when he fell?” I asked.

“Maybe, but Ted said the wound looked more like someone hit him with a metal bar.”

“Like that?” Gary, camera to his face, clicked away at two officers pulling something out of a flower patch not too far from the shrub where I’d found Daniel.

“What is it?” I asked. I had good eyesight, but Gary’s zoom lens gave him a distinct advantage.

“Looks like a piece of fencing. Maybe the kind of pole they stick in the ground and attach plastic net to.”

“Like they use here for special events?” We all turned to look at the half-dismantled pens that had moments before held the historic breeds. The fencing for the cattle was thicker than what the police held.

I walked twenty feet to where I could get a view of the street that ran on the side of the Capitol. Sure enough, there was a stack of metal poles ready to be driven into the ground and strung with hunter orange plastic netting. Someone either forgot to set them up this morning or they were waiting to be put into use for the next, bigger event: the cattle drive. Which made sense. Wouldn’t want a tourist mowed down by a steer.