Domestic Affairs (Tiara Investigations Mystery) (13 page)

“A call came into the station that she’d been kidnapped, but was immediately followed by another call saying she was alright.”

Victoria leaned toward the speaker. “I’m quite fine, Detective Kent. Thank you for your concern.”
 

“You’re quite welcome.” Hard to tell if he was being a smartass here or not, so I let it slide. “Good night.”

I put my baseball cap back on. “Tara, weren’t you asking how you could thank me? Is Wynona on board?”

“Indeed, she is!” Tara found the CD in the holder in the console. Soon we were listening to Wynona Judd’s version of
Free Bird
.

“Turn in up,” Vic yelled.

I put my hands over as many dog ears as I could and laughed out loud. “Take a right here!” We were across from the Porsche dealership. Plunketts Road runs beside unoccupied land and then a few rows of trees. It was also elevated by about ten or fifteen feet. “It’s time to go to work.”

My phone rang. It was Jack. “Quick, turn the music off!”

“I’m heading out,” he said.

I took that to mean he was leaving DC. “If you leave, won’t the Senate subpoena you?”

“They can if they want to, but they’ll have to find me before they can serve me directly. The subpoena will be delivered to the Army headquarters at the Pentagon and it won’t be accepted. Leaving will give me time to get to someone who can tell me what’s going on. My plane is taking off. I’ll call when I can.”

“Jack, wait. I don’t want you to leave the Army like this.
 
You’ve had too good a career.”

“The Army doesn’t want me to testify publicly.
 
They sent a letter to the committee asking that I not be deposed.
 
I know a lot of people, but no one can tell me who’s behind this. Getting on the plane is the best option I have right now.”

“Are you concerned about what you’ll be asked in a hearing? That you may be asked about night operations you’ve designed and led, not just the future of the program?”

“I’ve got to go.”

I took off my cap and rubbed my forehead, like I was pushing thoughts back. We pulled the straps on our night vision binoculars over our heads.
 
Victoria opened the manual and began to read.
 
“Use extreme caution….Ohhh.”

Tara opened the car door, then she screamed.
 
“I’m blind!”

“Aw, hell’s bells. Get out and close the car door.”
 
I rolled out and sank to the ground.

Tara and Victoria stumbled out and closed the doors so the car’s interior lights would go off.
 

“As I was saying,” Victoria resumed, “use extreme caution entering a lighted area when wearing night vision goggles.”

I couldn’t see but I could talk. “These things work by taking small amounts of light and magnifying it, so when the light came on inside the car, it was exaggerated. And there’s the fact that our pupils were dilated.”
 

“Can somebody just tell me if the dogs are okay?” Tara was down, but kept the goggles on.
 

“They’re good.” Having had the fear of God put in me, I took my goggles off. I didn’t need them because the lights were on at the dealership. “Oh, no.”
  

What little glass remained of the front of the dealership show window was cracked, revealing five or six battered cars. The cars which had been parked outside closest to the window were pummeled too.
 
Moving my eyes to the left, I saw even more damage in the service and body shop area. One of the service bay doors had been blown out and the roof had partially collapsed. While the physical destruction was chaotic, the calm, professional people on the scene looked to be working efficiently. “I don’t see your car.”

“Let me get my opera glasses.” Tara turned back to the car.
 

I caught her by the shoulders before she could open the door. “Wait! Take those off.”

We laughed and she removed the goggles. She got her opera glasses out of her backpack and trained them on the scene below us. “I don’t see it. But look, there’s Detective Kent. He’s standing with those uniformed officers.”

 
Vic got her opera glasses out and started scanning the crowd at the Porsche dealership. “I don’t see him. Whoa, I do see someone else we know.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Paige Ford,” Victoria said. “She’s making a phone call.”

“Detective Kent is getting a phone call,” Tara said.

He looked at his phone and then put it back in that little case he wears on his belt. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed his number. We watched as he looked at the screen of his phone.
 

“Wonder if he’ll take my call.”

“Hello, Leigh.”

“Go home,” I said.

“Why? I’m working.”

“Paige Ford is walking your way. She knows you didn’t take her call.”

“How do you know that?
 
Where are you?”

Tara took my phone. “We’re up here. Look up the hill.”
 
She waved an arm.

“Where?” He was looking everywhere but across the street.

I took my phone back. “Paige is about ten yards away. You need to get out of there.”

“No, I don’t.” He was still scanning the area around the dealership, but much closer in than where we were located.
 

“You’re not that strong. Make a run for it.”

“I’m still not feeling a hundred percent. I’ll go home as soon as we wrap up here. Tell me again where you are.”

I hung up.
 
“Some people you just can’t help.”

Paige Ford reached her destination and began putting a major flirt on the detective.
 

CHAPTER 15

Continuation of statement by Leigh Reed.
 
Tuesday morning at six o’clock I was green to go on Suwanee Dam Road, headed back to Bryn Marie’s office to record the Buford Dam water release schedule. The Toyota was still in the shop, so I was driving the rehabilitated Jeep.
 
What I saw when I pulled out of my subdivision gave me a jolt and I made a phone call.
 
“I need to report a crime.”
 

“On my cell phone?” Detective Kent’s voice still sounded weak. “This time of the morning? Call 911, Leigh.”
 

Caller ID, damn. “The
r’
s on the entrance sign to Gary Pirkle Park have been stolen.”

“What?”

“The black letters on the stone fence now spell Gay Pikle Pak.
 
The mayor is not going to be pleased.”

“I wouldn’t think so. Is Tara with you?”

“I’m going to meet them later this morning.”

“Who’s them?”

“Tara and Victoria.” Who did he think? This was the longest conversation we had ever had without him yelling at me. It felt peculiar.
 

“I’ll get someone on the park sign vandalism.”

“Thanks, Detective Kent.” I hovered between doing the right thing, which always gets me in trouble, and the easy thing. “Are you drinking plenty of fluids?”

“Yeah, actually my wife brings me a glass of water every hour.”
 

That confirmed my suspicions. “Stop drinking it.
 
Stick to bottled water until you feel better.” Being an environmentalist, I’m not wild about bottled water, but say your wife tried to kill you more than once, say she went to Mexico, say she came back with a bag of water, and you got sick. I’m just sayin.’”
 

There was dead air for a long minute. “Leigh, call me Jerry.” Peculiar. “Did you have a nice dinner Sunday night?”

Sunday seemed like a lifetime ago. And the question seemed out of the blue. “Why do you ask?”

“Thomas Chestnut’s daughter called me that night.
 
She seemed to think I was going to be there.”

I had no idea how to respond to that, but I had another question. “Have you arrested anyone for the explosion at the car dealership?”
 

“A press conference will be held later this morning.”

I saw a forest ranger car and, not wanting to get caught talking without a hands-free device, I mumbled something about having to hang up.
 
Retracing the route we drove the day before, I took a left onto Buford Dam Road and then a right at the sign that read, “Lake Lanier Project Manager Office.”
  

The building hadn’t opened for the day, but Bryn Marie came to the lobby and unlocked the door. “The room we use is down this hallway.”

I sat at a table in a sparsely decorated room, with a microphone and a script. I looked it over then leaned in.
 
“This is a public safety service regarding water release at Buford Dam from the US Army Corp of Engineers.
 
Following the start of water release, waters below Buford Dam are subject to rapid rises and are dangerous. Lifejackets must be worn by all persons on the river from Buford Dam to the Georgia Highway 20 bridge. Today, Tuesday, the scheduled water release will begin at 4:55 p.m., and end at 7:10 p.m., local time.” Riveting, right?

When Bryn Marie walked me out, I saw a shot and I took it. “The man who was killed on Friday believed that more attention should be paid to cyber security to protect infrastructure. I understand not everyone agrees with that. Some security experts say, physical security, like guards and cameras are more important. Where do you come down on that argument?”
 

She looked around and I took that as a sign she was going to tell me her true feelings. “I’ve heard the case for both sides. I’m not concerned about cyber-vandalism. Hacktivist groups use malware to make money. There’s no money here. To do serious damage would require the amount of money only countries have. And no country is interested in disabling Buford Dam.”

“What about a terrorist organization?”

“If we were targeted, it wouldn’t look like it does in a movie. The dam wouldn’t be operational one minute, shut down the next. We would be ahead of the perpetrator. Physical security is where our extremely limited resources should go.”

***

Victoria was at our favorite table at Cracker Barrel when I got there, on time and on target in the front by a window next to the far wall. Three sweet teas were lined up. “Tara’s in the ladies room. Her phone has rung twice in the last five minutes. One time it was Detective Kent calling. She assured us last night she wouldn’t do anything crazy, but should we ask her what’s going on?”
 

I dropped my handbag on the floor and took a seat.
 
“I wouldn’t touch it.”

“You don’t think Tara would ever….?”

Tara walked up. “She would ever do what?”

Victoria shrugged her shoulders and looked at the table with wide-eyed innocence. She mumbled something. I couldn’t make it out but let’s just say she didn’t exactly cowboy up.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t ever go out with Detective Kent?” Vic owed me one.

The waitress arrived, we ordered. Tara smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her skirt before responding.
 
“I see a different side to him than you two see. He’s such a romantic.”

“With
everyone
, though.” Victoria rearranged her napkin and straightened her silverware.

“By the way, Paige Ford called Detective Kent on Sunday night!” I giggled when I said it, which made the morsel sound like gossip, which maybe it was. I recounted my early morning conversation with him.
 
“Do you think she
likes
him? Is that why she came to dinner with us? Considering all that had happened?
 
Good Lord, when we left the funeral home, her father was AWOL!”

Vic drained her ice tea glass. “Was that what she was doing outside, calling Detective Kent?”

We all said, “Hmm.”

I was out of tea, too, and looked around. I made eye contact with the waitress, who brought the pitcher.
 
“Tara, should we tell Mrs. Ford that she’s not woman enough to take your man?”

“As your mother would say, ‘LOL.’ If we dated, he would want to marry me. You remember my first marriage didn’t end well. I just don’t know if I want to get married again, to anyone. If I thought it would be a marriage like yours, Leigh, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“If you married Detective Kent, it wouldn’t be a marriage like mine. You know it wouldn’t.”

“Nor if I married Asher Charles.”

Victoria’s hand flew to her face. “He asked you to marry him? He is a stunning looking man.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t care about me. I told you, he thinks because his lips tingled after we brushed against each other, it was a sign and he’s in love. He’s a kid.”

Victoria put her napkin in her lap. “He’s in his forties, isn’t he?”

Tara shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t ever want to have to worry about the new wearing off.”

“Paul’s fifty-something, right? And he wants to marry you too.” I gave my tea a squirt of lemon.
 

The waitress brought our food but Tara kept talking. “How do you know that?”

“He told Jack, and Jack wanted me to try to convince you to say yes, but I said I wouldn’t. Let’s change the subject and talk murder.”

Victoria snorted her tea. “Maybe we already are.”

“Very funny. Paul’s been acting odd lately. Last night he said, ‘If I don’t love you, grits aren’t groceries.’ I have to tell you, hearing that in a Yankee accent killed the mood.”

I groaned.
 
“Jack may have told him to say that.”

Tara’s phone rang and she reached for it. “Good, it’s my attorney. I want him to meet with the people at the Porsche dealership for me. I’ll take this outside.”

Neither Vic nor I could say “bye” because our mouths were full.
  

I looked around for the waitress since my tea glass was low.

 
In between bites, Vic said, “So, Asher Charles, Detective Kent, and Dr. Paul are all in love with Tara.
 
Kind of makes Al look like a refreshing change. I wonder why he doesn’t like her? It’s a mystery.”

“Speaking of mysteries, how is it possible to sweat half the night and be retaining water in the morning?”
 

When Tara returned she was smiling. “I sure do feel better.”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“It was my car that blew up and caused the damage, but I want to forestall any claims of legal responsibility.
  
Now I can enjoy my breakfast.”

I put my fork down. “I hope this won’t ruin your appetite but I’d like to go over everything that’s happened since Friday. Saturday night someone started a fire outside my house and hinted at a link to Thomas Chestnut’s murder.”

“That couldn’t have been random?” Tara’s voice was hopeful.

“Nothing’s random.” Victoria put up her hand as a stop sign. “Before you ask, not even acts of kindness.”

“Next Bea was kidnapped, then Anniyah was moved and left with a souvenir that pointed to us, and last night the business with Tara’s car,” I continued. “Pattern, anybody?”

Tara looked up at the ceiling and chewed the lipstick off her bottom lip. “Home, friends, possessions.”
 

Victoria leaned in and whispered. “I think the hardest part is not knowing what will happen next.”

“Oh, did you have to say that in front of Tara?”
    

Victoria poured more syrup on her blueberry pancakes. “Leigh, what’s our cover story for the CDC?”

“We don’t have one. I’ll try to come up with something on the drive over. If I made an appointment, Janice Marshall would know we were coming. The museum is the only sector open to the public.”

Tara groaned. “Surely, we can do better than that.”

“We’ll be visitors. I want to
visit
Janice Marshall, assuming that’s her real name. If I have to say that’s who we’re there to see, I will. I hope I don’t have to, just in case that name’s as false as
Alyssa
. Tara, what is your assignment?”

Tara was working on her scrambled eggs, grits, and bacon. “I’d like to find the identity of the guy Bea told us about––the one who had a disagreement with Thomas Chestnut. She said he was fired, but if I can find his office maybe there will be something left to indicate how violent he was, or could be if pushed.”
 

“If I had to guess, I’d say, not very.” I was almost through with my two eggs, sunny-side up. I don’t even like them cooked like that, but I love saying it, so that’s what I order. “Thomas Chestnut felt the best way to defend against an attack on the country’s infrastructure was cyber security. His co-worker felt physical security was more important. When two geeks go at it, no one ever gets hurt.”

“But it could happen.” Victoria looked skeptical. “I wish I’d ordered biscuits.”

“Maybe once in a blue moon someone could get injured in some geek on geek action. Just tell the waitress you’d like a biscuit.”

“He still has to be a suspect,” Tara said. “Otherwise all we have is Al, for the inheritance. And another thing, we need to either talk murder, or biscuits, not both.”

“Murder. Let’s add in Janice Marshall for making her fool self look guilty.” I drained my ice tea glass again. I’d lost count of the number of refills and just knew I was going to be talking at warp speed the rest of the day.

“Oh, if we’re going to include folks who go out of their way to make themselves look guilty, we have to add Paige for sneaking around outside her own house Sunday night,”
 
Vic said. “And why was she at the car dealership last night?
 
Let’s find a way to talk to her.”

The waitress brought more tea and we stopped listing suspects long enough for her to replenish our glasses. This time she brought a saucer of lemon wedges. I love Cracker Barrel, especially the one on Lawrenceville-Suwannee Road.
 

I tried to make myself drink water, but my hand went for the sweet tea. What the hell, you only live once. “Let’s add the funeral director to the list. He didn’t see those two big guys around the body?
 
What a slipshod organization! I still can’t get over someone taking the body out of there. That’s not allowed in any religion.”
 

Victoria took my tea glass and moved it to the other side of the table. “When we get to CDC, I’ll try to find out what Thomas Chestnut was working on.”

***

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention headquarters building on Clifton Road in Atlanta is a glass structure, bowed into a slight C-shape, but with a round appendage on one end. There’s, and I’m not making this up, a moat.
 

We drove up to the security checkpoint and showed our driver’s licenses for identification.
 
Victoria had asked me to drive her car.

“They’re scanning the undercarriage of the car,” I said.