Black Princess Mystery (31 page)

“You’re
not evil,” he said. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

“Before
that we had been friends,” Tasheka continued, “but after it, we embarrassed
each other. I didn’t kill him, though. You have to believe me.”

Thorston
paused for a long time. “That’s not even an issue,” he said. “I don’t care what
McNab says.”

“How did
he know you were talking to me?”

“I’m not
sure. I called you on a cell phone and he may have somehow heard it.”

“If he
overheard you, he would have known we were working together. You called me from
your office, but did you ever call me from anywhere else?”

“I called
you from the office, the car, and my home.”

“You
obviously never told anyone about us working together,” she mused, licking her
lips, “so that means he somehow overheard you.” She thought about something for
a few seconds. “Does McNab have knowledge of electronics?”

“He’s been
on the force for a long time and has done just about every job. For a few years
he was on surveillance. He’s a technology buff. He has to have all the latest
toys.”

Tasheka
ground her teeth for a moment. “I think he has your office bugged.”

“Come on,”
he said. “What would be the point of that?”

“Obviously
to see if you were talking to me, which he found out. I could tell the moment I
met him that Detective McNab is a controller. He wants to control what’s going
on at all times. He’s a little dictator. Has he been in your home since we
met?”

“Several
times. Why?”

“I think
he may have your house bugged, too. He probably did it when you went to the
bathroom. There’s no doubt in my mind that he heard us tonight and that’s how
he knew I was there. How else can you explain him mysteriously showing up
outside your door?” She paused. “Does that prick ever do anything besides
police work?”

“Not too
much, but he is into bowling, darts, and pool. He does practice a lot because
he hates to lose. But as seriously as he takes his leisure activities, he lives
and breathes his work. He’ll sleep on his office floor if that’ll help him
solve a case.”

“It sounds
as though he sees his work as a sport,” Tasheka said. “If he solves the case,
he wins. If he doesn’t, he loses. Since McNab hates to lose, he solves most of
his cases.”

“He’s
relentless,” Thorston agreed. “He reminds me of the old Spiderman cartoon where
a scientist invented a machine that chased Spiderman day and night. It never
rested. No matter how fast Spiderman ran or where he hid, the machine just kept
coming. That’s what McNab is like, a machine. If you murder under his watch, I
swear he’d give up his life trying to find you.”

“I think
that he is either consciously or subconsciously trying to get back at his
ex-wife,” Tasheka speculated.

“Why would
you say that?”

“She ran
off with another cop, a college boy, but whereas the other guy probably does
enough to keep his job, McNab is the darling of the suits. I think he sees
cases as an opportunity to make his ex regret leaving such a successful man.”

“Freud
might find something in that.”

“Spite,”
Tasheka said. “He’s a spiteful man. He thinks you and I are getting close so he
wants to control us, especially you. You’re his partner, his surrogate wife. He
wants to control you like he controlled her.”

“I’m not
sure about that, Tasheka. He said he’s only looking out for my best interest.”

“Right.”

“He said
you could cost me my job. He said I was feeding you confidential police
information and that you are a prime suspect. He thinks you’re a psychopath.”

Tasheka
gritted her teeth and could hardly speak for several seconds. “How’s he going
to prove we were consulting, Thorston? Is the tooth fairy going to testify on
his behalf?” She shook her head. “There’s only one way to prove it, and that’s
to produce the recording from a taped conversation. Do you think McNab is going
to tell anyone he illegally bugged your office? That’s a criminal offense. You
don’t have a thing to worry about.”

“I still
have to face him every day. And I have to make an appearance at his party.”

“What
party?”

“His
annual party,” he said.

“When?”

“McNab is
a stick in the mud all year, but he always holds a New Year’s Eve party at his
house. It’s a tradition. It only runs from six until eight, but everybody goes.
Out of respect, you know.”

“Do the
men go alone or take dates?”

“Wives and
girlfriends,” he said, “if they want to.”

“Take me.”

“What?”

“Take me
to the party,” she said. “I’ll be your date.”

“That
would really piss him off.”

“It’s your
choice, Thorston. I did the things I did and you know what they are. You can
walk out of my life right now, but if you do, you never come back. If I am not
good enough for you now, I will never speak to you again.”

“That’s an
ultimatum if I ever heard one.”

“You
either accept me as I am and leave the past in the past, or we go our separate
ways.”

“Are we in
a relationship?” he asked.

“That’s
your choice, but make it right now.”

Thorston
hesitated for a split second. “I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said, “and I
don’t give a shit what McNab says. I’ll take you to the party.”

“No,”
Tasheka said, shaking her head. “When we go, I’m driving. I’ll pick you up.”

“This
should be good,” he said ominously.

Chapter Nineteen

On New
Year’s Eve, at six sharp, Tasheka arrived at Thorston’s. He was dressed
casually, but in clothes that suited him well, especially the brown suede coat
that accentuated his handsome face, brilliant smile, and sandy hair. He invited
her in but they didn’t get past the kitchen. They hugged and kissed like
newlyweds for fifteen minutes. Finally, seeming to snap out of their funk, they
walked out to her car.

“I learned
something new,” he said as soon as he got into the car. “McNab put the screws
to Mike Power’s supervisor and Gina Dawson admitted she never checked on Mr.
Power at all that night. Power asked her to lie.”

“That
proves only that he wanted an alibi because he knew he would be under
suspicion. It doesn’t prove he wasn’t actually in his room.”

“Maybe.”
He gazed at her. “You look so beautiful tonight.”

“You ain’t
so bad yourself, cowboy.”

They
laughed as people young in love laugh at each other, in a giddy kind of way.
When they reached Detective McNab’s house, there were numerous cars parked
along the street, and through the window they could see a collection of men and
women gathered in the living room of the one-story, modest home.

“Hope he
doesn’t have a meltdown when he sees us together,” Thorston said, opening the
car door for his date.

“Too bad
if he does. Freedom of association is a constitutionally guaranteed right.”
Tasheka held Thorston’s hand as they walked up the path.

“If he
makes an issue of this and I get fired,” Thorston said, “maybe we really should
become private investigators and team up.”

“Maybe we
should,” Tasheka said cheerfully. “We’ll call ourselves Henry and Green
Investigative Services.” She suddenly thought of something. “Then again, how
about T&T for Thorston and Tasheka?”

“That’s a
dynamite name,” he replied with a laugh.

“Tell me
something. When I was at the police station, I could see into McNab’s office
and there wasn’t one picture of his mother. Why is that? You said he was very
devoted to her.”

“They were
estranged at the end of her life,” Thorston said. “When she turned
seventy-five, his mother met a man McNab didn’t like. He thought the man was
just after his mother’s money. There was a brief power struggle and then his
mother got married. McNab never spoke to her again and when she came home from
her honeymoon, her house was up for sale.”

“Why?”

“McNab had
gained full ownership of his mother’s house over the years, even paying the
taxes and insurance on it. She signed it over to him, thinking he would protect
her for the rest of her days, but he sold everything and kept every cent. He
was right about the husband, too, because once Mrs. McNab lost her home, she
also lost her man. She had nothing but a small pension and she died poor in a
tiny apartment. When she died, McNab didn’t even attend the funeral.”

“I think
he’s after me because I’m a woman,” Tasheka said. “His wife divorced him and
his mother deserted him. He’s projecting all his hostility onto me.”

“That’s
silly, Tasheka. Three of the main suspects are Mike Power, Matt Vendor and Jake
Thompson. None of them are women.”

“How long
has he been estranged from his mother?”

“She got
married this past June,” he said. “Why?”

“Just
wondering.”

When they
walked inside the porch, Tasheka studied the surroundings. One side was full of
split firewood. On top of the pile were a bag of kindling and a basket of
newspaper. On the other side was a discarded paint can with smears of yellow
around the lid, a few pieces of older wood that had dried to a grey hue, and
flecks of yellow paint on one piece at the bottom of the pile. On the floor
were a great many pairs of boots and shoes.

The other
police officers and detectives greeted Thorston in the kitchen with warm smiles
and handshakes, and then looked surprised to see his date. The women turned to
Tasheka and mumbled to each other. A few of the men immediately started
speaking to her, but though she was friendly, she was respectfully aloof,
staying close to Thorston’s side. The young detective was particularly pleased
when she put her hand around his forearm, holding him and drawing close as she
participated in a conversation. She was comfortably social even though she was
the only black person there.

“Where’s
Detective McNab?” Thorston asked one of the other detectives.

“Tits up.
He drank too much and fell asleep on the couch.”

Another
detective led Thorston and Tasheka to the living room and pointed to the
sleeping Detective McNab. He picked up a half-full pop bottle, sniffed it and
quickly pulled his head back as if he smelled ammonia. Tasheka also sniffed it
and jerked away, scrunching up her face.

“If I
drank that, I’d be out cold, too,” the detective said. “This is almost straight
rum.” He laughed. “Bill never drinks a drop all year, but come New Year’s Eve
he chugs almost straight rum. Go figure.”

Tasheka
looked at the sleeping detective. “He won’t be solving any crimes tonight.”

The
detective laughed. “It’ll do him good to take some time off.”

“The
prince reposes,” said an older woman in a tipsy slur as she walked into the
room.

“Prince?”
Tasheka said to Thorston.

The woman
overheard her. “They call him Spider because he catches criminals like flies,”
she explained, mumbling her words with a glazed look in her eyes, “but we call
him Prince because he’s the Prince of Puns.”

Tasheka
listened with great interest and remembered the plaque on his office wall.
“Excuse me,” she said with a lively look. “One day I was at the station and
noticed that in Detective McNab’s office there was a plaque that read
POPS
. I assumed it was a fatherly
nickname.”

“Never
assume anything,” Thorston said with a playful gleam in his eyes. “That plaque
stands for Prince of Puns. The girls in the office gave it to him.”

“Bill can
never resist making puns,” the woman interjected, apparently miffed that
Thorston had intruded on her conversation with Tasheka. She laughed in a
drunken, horselike way and pointed to Detective McNab with the hand that held
her glass. “Now they’ll have to rename him the Prince of Pint.” She burst out
laughing at her own joke, her loud guffaws echoing through the house.

“He’ll
sleep well tonight,” Watkins said. “Hopefully the house doesn’t catch fire
because Bill is down for the count.”

“I hope
he’s all right,” Tasheka replied with a note of concern. She leaned over to
make sure Detective McNab was still breathing and then stood up straight,
smiling at everyone. “He’s sleeping like a baby.”

“Let him
have a little fun,” the drunken woman said, smacking her lips. “All work makes
Johnny a dull boy.”

“I agree,”
Tasheka responded. “Just today I advised my mother to break with routine. Every
year she stays home for New Year’s, but this year she’s gone to visit a friend
for three days. She left this afternoon. Change is a good thing.”

Watkins
looked at Thorston. “This woman has some interesting ideas, young fella. Hang
onto her. You’ll never be bored.”

Tasheka
grinned and then asked Thorston where to find the washroom.