Finding Sarah (14 page)

Sarah conceded and twisted in her
seat so she faced Randy. “Tell me what you detected, then.”

“Good news first. Mazzaro’s story
checked out. Consolidated owns the building and plans to use the apartment to
house new employees until they find somewhere to live, since they haven’t been
able to rent the place in over a year. You shouldn’t have any more people
looking in your window.”

“I’m glad.”

“But if the guy who broke into
your apartment was part of the Mazzaro scheme, it looks like all he got was
your computer files.”

Might as well tell him now. “Umm …
maybe not.”

His head whipped toward her. “What
do you mean?”

“I was balancing my checkbook,
and I noticed a discrepancy. I called the bank, and they said I’d set up an on
line account last Tuesday, and there was a fee to set up on-line banking. I
explained it was an error, and they removed the charge”

Tuesday. The day of the break-in.
“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You had enough to deal with.
Besides, I’m not in the habit of calling the police to help me with my
finances, thank you very much.”

His jaw was working again. “I
shouldn’t have missed it.” She saw his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel.

“You’re like everyone else,
caught up in the Internet. I’m not. I have a bare-bones dial-up I use for
email, maybe ten minutes a day. You know, some people still use things like
checks and paper bank statements. Easy enough for anyone to open my desk
drawers and see my records. Since I didn’t have an online account, he didn’t
need to hack in. He created one using my information. But, it’s over, it’s
done, it’s fixed. No harm, no foul and can we move on?”

“This is part of an ongoing
investigation. I’m supposed to be kept informed.”

“I’m informing you now. I know
the bank tellers and they said they’d make sure nobody could access my
accounts. And tomorrow I’ll go change them. The bank will do a full
investigation. See. I took care of it. All by myself.”

“Sarah, I have a job to do.”

“And I have mine, and banking is
part of it. It’s done.” She turned to watch the trees speed by the side of the
road.

* * * * *

They walked across Rob’s unpaved
parking lot, Sarah half skipping to keep up with Randy’s long stride. As they
climbed the wooden steps to the entryway, Sarah felt Randy’s hand on the small
of her back. When he held the door for her, she realized that she hadn’t been
this comfortable, this much a part of someone else’s life, in over a year. It
felt good. Before Randy opened the door to the restaurant, Sarah stopped him. “I’m
sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s all right. We’re both
strung a little tight.”

Comfortably ensconced in a booth,
Sarah leaned forward. “Did the vet get back to you about the poison?”

“She knows what it was, so she’s
treating the cats. I brought her all their paraphernalia, and she’s going to
check for poison tonight.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose before looking
back at her. “I saw them. Hooked up to IVs. Helpless. They didn’t know I was there.”
His voice cracked.

“They’ll make it.”

A bored-looking waiter hovered by
the table. “Getcha something to drink?”

“A glass of white wine for me,”
Sarah said. She looked up at Randy, who was staring at the table.

“Club soda,” he said without
raising his eyes.

“Gotcha. Be right back,” the
waiter said. He plopped two menus on the table and shuffled away.

Randy buried himself behind his
menu, and Sarah studied hers without speaking.

Once they had their drinks and
ordered their meals, Sarah moved the candle aside and grasped Randy’s hands,
wondering if her tiny hands could offer the comfort she felt when his enveloped
hers. His long, tapered fingers, with hints of calloused roughness, seemed more
like the hands of an artist than a cop.

She gave a squeeze. “Why don’t
you give me the bad news about Gertie? Make it official.”

“I think you guessed it. All
three of the other shopkeepers picked her out of the stack of photos without a
moment’s hesitation. Gracious Gertie is in custody in Woodford. I have no idea
who robbed you.”

Although she had expected it, a
wave of dismay sluiced over her like a waterfall. “What now?”

Randy took a gulp of his club
soda. “I keep working.”

The waiter returned and placed
salads and a basket of hot sourdough bread in front of them. Sarah lifted the
basket, savoring the tangy aroma of the bread. “For now, let’s forget work and
enjoy the meal.” She offered the basket to Randy. He pulled out a piece and
slathered it with butter, holding it poised in front of his mouth, waiting for
her.

“Eat. Don’t wait for me. I’m
enjoying my wine,” she said.

Randy started his salad,
accompanied by the crunch of the crusty bread.

When the waiter brought their
entrees, Sarah watched as Randy attacked his chicken. The man must have been
starving. Even small talk seemed too much of an effort for him. He ate with
undisguised relish, his enjoyment sensual. Sarah worked on her salmon and left
him to his meal.

After declining dessert, Sarah
looked at Randy. Some of the strain had left his face, but the exhaustion was
still there. “We’d better be going,” she said. “You could use some sleep.”

Randy set down his coffee cup and
motioned for the check. He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “You’re right.”
Randy pulled out his wallet, left some bills on the table and stood up. “Shall
we go?”

“You know,” Sarah said. “I’ve
been alone in that apartment for over fifteen months now. I think being scared
and angry last night was a lot easier than all those nights of feeling
abandoned and alone.”

Randy squeezed her shoulder. “You
should feel safe and warm at home, not scared, angry, abandoned, or alone.”

Sarah allowed some of her weight
to rest against Randy, and a few more butterflies were laid to rest. They
stepped outside and lingered on the restaurant porch for a moment. She looked
up at the sky. “All that’s missing is a full moon.”

Randy laid a hand on her
shoulder. “That’s about a week and a half away. Maybe we can come back.”

“I’ll put it on my calendar.”

Sarah took his arm and started
down the steps. The restaurant had never filled and Randy’s truck was off by
itself in the parking lot. He opened the door for her. Before she climbed in,
she looked up at him. “I need a favor. A big one.”

“Just ask, Sarah.”

“Can you look at David’s
accident? I mean, you’re a cop and you must have access to stuff regular
people, even a private investigator, wouldn’t. I know it wasn’t suicide.”

Her heart sank when he stiffened
and pulled away. His lips formed a straight line and his eyebrows came
together. She blinked back her embarrassment. “I understand if you don’t want
to.”

“It’s just—are you sure you
really want to know? Could you deal with it if it was suicide?”

“I’ve dealt with it every day
since he died. The not knowing is worse. I’ll live with the truth.”

Randy took her hands in his. “I’ll
see. There’s only so much digging I can do. It’s not a Pine Hills case, it’s
closed, and real life cops can’t work like they do on television. Our hours are
accounted for. And some of the databases require my name and a case number, and
they’re audited randomly. It’s supposed to make sure we don’t start poking
around for personal reasons. I’ve kind of pushed the envelope already looking
for stuff that’s not tied to your robbery.”

She felt a flush rise to her
face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

He pulled her toward him and she
buried her face in his chest. The citrus scent of his aftershave and the
beating of his heart calmed her.

“I’ll see what I can do on my own
time. Things aren’t too busy now, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“Thanks.”

“We should be going.”

“Right.” She reached for the grab
bar. His hand at her elbow made her feel safe. He closed the door, and she
watched him walk around to the driver’s side. His eyes never left hers, even
though she doubted he could see her in the dark cab. The light came on when he
opened his door and she couldn’t keep a smile from rising to her lips as he
eased himself behind the wheel.

Randy slid the key into the
ignition but made no move to start the engine. Instead, he leaned over and
kissed her. Sarah returned the kiss, butterflies replaced by an entirely
different sort of fluttering. His tongue probed, his breathing accelerated. She
enjoyed one long, coffee-flavored moment before she forced herself to break the
connection.

“Please. Let’s go. We both know
this isn’t right.”

When he awoke the next morning,
Randy found himself in bed, fully clothed, with no recollection of how he got
there. The last thing he remembered was driving back from Sarah’s and collapsing
on the couch. A long, hot shower and a steamy cup of black coffee returned the
soul to his body, and he was able to think clearly.

Sarah had been right to break
things off last night. She was using her brain and he was using something a lot
lower down. Yet there was something about the way she invaded his thoughts when
he least expected it. This must be what Gram had meant all those times she’d
said, “You’ll know when it’s right. You can’t explain it, but you’ll know.”

Randy popped two waffles into the
toaster, ate them while he waited for two more to finish heating to eat on the
road, and left for work. He had a good feeling about the day.

At his desk, he twirled his
Rolodex and found the number for Matt Dobrovsky.

“Long time no hear, Detweiler. What’s
up?” Dobrovsky’s gravelly voice spoke of too many cigars and too much Johnny
Walker, but the retired cop knew what he was doing.

“You remember the Tucker case?
Suicide about fifteen months ago?”

“Yeah. Too bad. She was a basket
case, but the pieces seemed to fit—nothing I could refute.”

“Talk to me. O’Farrell’s at six?”

“You buying?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll be there.”

That good feeling evaporated when
Laughlin caught him in the break room before Randy had finished pouring his
coffee. “My office.”

Randy followed him down the hall
and took a seat. Laughlin settled in behind his desk.

“How’s your little investigation
coming?” Laughlin asked. “Anything more concrete?”

“Still trying to find out who
Brandt and Adams might be.”

“It’ll have to wait. We had five
break-ins last night. Kovak’s got the reports. He’ll fill you in.”

Randy’s stomach sank, but he knew
he’d been lucky to have as much time for Sarah’s case as he’d had. “Yes, Chief.
I’m on it.”

He found his younger colleague at
his desk in their shared workspace, file folders strewn over its surface. “Welcome
back, partner. How was San Diego?”

“A lot warmer than here. Looks
like I got back from vacation just in time.” He gathered the folders and handed
them to Randy.

Randy took the files to his desk,
perching on its edge. “Didn’t I tell you about fair skin and sunscreen? You
look like a boiled lobster. And your nose is peeling.”

“Who thinks about sunscreen when
you go to a theme park? It’s not like I was at the beach.”

Randy waggled the folders. “You
think these are all related?”

“Doesn’t look like it. What’s
your load like?” Kovak pulled the folders from Randy’s hand.

“Lots of phone and paperwork and
no court for a change. They caught Gertie in Woodford, by the way.”

“That’s great, but too bad it
wasn’t your collar.”

“Turns out one of the Gertie
robberies was a copycat. I’m back to square one with that one, but I have a
couple of leads. I’ve got to interview some of the local merchants.”

“Tell you what,” Kovak said,
separating the folders. “I’ll take these three. They seem totally unrelated and
they’re all over town. He handed Randy two folders. “These are close by. Sherman
and Zimmer. Seem connected. Malicious mischief. My guess it’s the work of kids.
You could be back by noon.”

“I owe you one. No, I owe you
two.” Randy sat at his desk for a few minutes, reviewing the files. Entry made
via broken windows in the back of two houses a few blocks apart. Kitchens were
trashed, nothing obvious stolen. The owners were trying to verify what, if
anything, was missing.

As he drove to the Zimmers’, he
ran through a myriad possibilities. Could this be related to Sarah’s case? Maybe
kids were getting bolder. Had they started with subtle vandalism at Sarah’s,
and maybe another merchant or two, then decided that wasn’t good enough? That
they wanted to be noticed? But why move from a business to a residence?

When he arrived, Mrs. Zimmer stood on her
front porch, hands on hips, cigarette hanging from her lips. She wore a red
bandanna around her head, a plaid flannel shirt open over a faded black
turtleneck and dingy jeans. Randy reached into his pocket for his badge as he
adjusted his strides to match the paving stones laid in the front yard.

“It’s about time you got here,” Mrs.
Zimmer said. She whirled and went into the house, flicking her cigarette into
the bushes. Randy took the porch steps three at a time and barely avoided being
slammed in the face by the screen door.

“I’m still dealing with the mess,” she
said. “But I can tell you the crooks took my CD player and our CD collection.”

Randy took out his notebook. “I understand
the Shermans had some vandalism as well. Do you know them?”

She shrugged. “Casually, I’d say. We sat
with them at the PTA meeting at the elementary school, but we don’t socialize.
Our older kids probably know each other better. They’re at the high school.”

Randy groaned inwardly at the thought of
questioning kids. He forced a supportive smile to his face and turned to Mrs.
Zimmer. “I’ve got a few more questions, if you don’t mind. This looks like some
sort of prank, especially since you and the Shermans were both out. Who would
have known you were at the meeting?”

“I suppose anyone who knew we have kids at
the elementary school. It’s the annual meeting. Almost everyone shows up. If
you don’t, they stick you with some lousy job to do.”

This didn’t look like the work of fourth
graders. Randy tried another approach. “What about your older daughter? Do you
think I could speak to her?”

“I hope you’re not insinuating that Rachel
would have had anything to do with this.”

“No, ma’am. I’m just trying to find
whoever did this. Any connections between the two break-ins might help.”

Mrs. Zimmer kept insisting that the
solution had to lie elsewhere, and why didn’t he get out there and find it. Randy
resorted to his ‘pulling teeth’ line of questioning, phrasing his questions so
that all she needed to do was answer “yes” or “no,” and tried not to sound as
exasperated as he felt. After fifteen minutes, he had extracted permission to
speak to Rachel at school, and been accused of everything from incompetence to
police brutality. Mrs. Zimmer didn’t know how close she’d come to being right
on that last one. He gritted his teeth and left, hoping Mrs. Sherman would be
more cooperative, while his mind ran through all possibilities this could be
related to Sarah’s vandalism. What he’d seen didn’t indicate any connection to
what had happened at Sarah’s shop, but he’d see if he could get more
information when he talked to the kids.

He pulled up to the Shermans’, and Mrs.
Sherman gave him a warm welcome. Her brunette hair had strands of gold running
through it, most likely placed there by a hairdresser rather than the sun. She
wore a pastel plaid suit, the skirt ending a tasteful distance above her knees,
and high heels to accentuate what the skirt revealed.

“I am so glad to see you, Detective. Can I
get you something? Coffee? Tea? Water?”

Randy felt better already. Mrs. Sherman
looked like the cooperative type. Maybe he’d wrap this up after all. “Thank
you. Water would be nice, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. She turned away and
raised her voice. “Esmeralda! Can you please bring the policeman a glass of
water.” She faced Randy. “I’m sure she’ll have it out for you in just a moment.
She’s rather busy, what with all the mess in the kitchen, as I’m sure you can
understand. Now, let’s go sit down and you can ask me whatever it is police
detectives ask after incidents like this.” She walked toward the living room
with the stride of someone who routinely wore three inch heels.

Randy followed, some of his good feelings
leaving him. Mrs. Sherman motioned him to an antique ivory upholstered
armchair, and he sat down, hoping it would support his weight. He pulled out
his notebook.

Mrs. Sherman leaned forward from her seat
on the couch. “Oh, you really do have those little books. I thought they might
just be for television. You know, so the actors wouldn’t have to remember all
those lines. How exciting.”

Randy had no idea how to respond to that. “Yes,
ma’am. Can you tell me if you have any idea who might have wanted to do this?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you think either of your children
might know anything? This looks like the work of juveniles.”

“I agree, and I can’t begin to tell you
how discouraging it is, to see the way our children behave nowadays. Of course,
my Catherine and Susannah would never do anything like this, and I’m sure Mrs.
Zimmer’s children are above such pettiness, but some parents just don’t seem to
care what their children are doing. A shame.”

Randy gave a noncommittal grunt. “Have you
confirmed what was stolen?”

“Yes, our CD player—and it was the deluxe
model, I’ll have you know, and dozens of CDs. We have an extensive collection.”

“Same as the Zimmers. I’d like to explore
areas where your two families overlapped. Can you help me out? Jobs, social
circles, community activities?” He looked up, poising his pen over his notebook
for her benefit. Maybe it would get her talking.

Esmeralda came in with a large glass of
ice water on a silver tray. She held it out toward him, a look of tired boredom
on her face. Her hair, mostly gray, was pulling its way out of its bun, and
there were assorted splotches covering much of her white apron. She’d probably
been tackling the kitchen mess for several hours.

“Thank you,” he said. He took a sip of
water and smiled at her. She bobbed and went back to the kitchen.

Mrs. Sherman was as voluble as Mrs. Zimmer
had been reticent. No, the two families didn’t socialize. The younger children
were in different classes; she had no idea if Rachel and Susannah shared any
classes or activities. She thought Susannah was in the drama club, but children
did change their interests so frequently at that age, who could keep up? Randy
gave up on directing her remarks and sat back listening to her expounding on
everything from teenage dating to how much homework teachers were giving,
making notes whenever she hit upon something useful. Finally, he stood. “Thank
you very much. You’ve been most helpful. And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to
talk to Susannah. If you would call the school principal, I can be over there
in a few minutes.”

“Oh dear. I’m not sure I would like you
going there. I mean, being pulled out of class in the middle of the day by a
policeman? What would people think?”

“Mrs. Sherman, I assure you, that unless
Susannah tells anyone I’m a police detective, there’s no reason for anyone else
to know. I’m not in uniform, after all. Time is of the essence in cases like
this. I will be speaking with Rachel as well. Of course, you’re welcome to be
present, if you’d like to come along.” He looked at her and waited.

She checked her watch. “Oh, I’m sure that
won’t be necessary. I must be at my Junior League meeting. You’re sure it can
be handled … discreetly?”

“Absolutely.”

Reluctantly, Randy headed for the high
school, almost certain he wasn’t going to be able to tie this case to Sarah’s.

Do your damn job. The Shermans and the
Zimmers are victims, too.

* * * * *

It was after four when Randy
staggered into his office. He pulled back his chair and sank onto it, leaning
his elbows on his desk and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyelids.
His head throbbed, and he’d missed lunch again.

“Just getting back?” came Kovak’s
voice from the next desk.

Randy glared at him. “If you’re
finished with those other three cases, I don’t want to hear it. I no longer owe
you anything. What a mess.”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know?
I’ve got someone in custody for the smash and grab at the hardware store. The
real estate office turned out to be someone trying to get even with her ex for
selling the house below market value and I’m following up a pretty good lead
with the insurance company.”

Randy wadded up a piece of paper
and threw it at his smirking partner. “Shut up. The parents were useless, so I
spent the afternoon at the high school. God, you need permission from the tooth
fairy to talk to those kids. And rude. Shit, I’d have been grounded for a month
if I’d talked to an adult that way.” He massaged his temples, trying to rub
away the pounding.

Randy shook three aspirin out of
the bottle he kept in his desk and headed for the break room, stopping on the
way at the water fountain to swallow the pills. He poured a cup of muddy
coffee, stuck some coins into the vending machine and extracted a bag of
peanuts. He wasn’t going to be good for much until the aspirin kicked in, but
he was determined to make time for Sarah’s case before he went home.

Randy scanned his messages and
stared at the one from Dr. Lee. With clammy hands, he punched in her number,
his pulse racing as he waited to be connected.

“I’m sorry I missed your call,”
Randy said. “Did you find the poison?”

“You were right about the mouse
toy. It was stuffed with catnip and the stuffing was saturated with the toxin.
It wouldn’t take much, I’m afraid.”