Hazardous Duty (24 page)

“Can you meet me at the Grounds?”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I found something out.”

“How does seven o’clock sound?”

I glanced at my watch. It still left me
with four hours to kill. I got a shot of brain freeze with that thought.
Killing was too much a part of my life these last few days. Shaking off the
chilly thought, I knew I’d have to make it work. “See you then.”

***

I’d been pacing my apartment for an
hour, with no clue as to what to do with myself. My hands were tied until I
spoke with Parker. I sat down at my desk and tried to catch up on some
paperwork for my cleaning business, but my mind was distracted.

When I heard a car door slam outside, I rushed
to my window. Bill. I hurried downstairs. The talk show host jerked his head
back as I charged toward him.

“Whoa! Where’s the fire?”

“Bill, I need to get in touch with
Michael Cunningham’s campaign manager. Do you have her contact information?”

“Somewhere.”

“Can you find it?”

“What’s this about, Gabby?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“If it’s juicy, can I have first dibs?”

I grinned. “Absolutely.”

A few minutes later, I dialed Candace’s
cell phone. She answered on the second ring.

“Candace, my name is Gabby. I met you at
America Live earlier today.”

“You were the redhead, right?” she said,
her voice crisp. I could hear voices murmuring in the background and wondered
where she was.

“That’s me. I was wondering if I could
meet you sometime.”

“Concerning . . . ?”

I had to choose my words carefully. “How
I can help with the campaign.”

“I can put you in touch with the right
person. I’m really very busy.” The voices became louder, and I could tell she
was distracted.

“It’s important I speak with you.”

“Can it be done over the phone?”

I could hear the agitation creeping into
her voice and knew I had to cut to the chase. “I know about your affair with
Michael.”

Silence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking
about,” she finally muttered. The background noise muted. I could picture her
moving away from the crowds for privacy.

“I think you do. I have pictures to
prove it.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I just want to talk.”

Pause.

“When?”

We arranged to meet in an hour at the
seawall in Norfolk.
I would give her the pictures. I swung by the local drugstore’s one-hour photo
to make copies before making my way downtown. After parking, I hurried through
Waterside, an upscale international mall on the Elizabeth
River in downtown Norfolk, and stepped onto the seawall outside
of it. The heat had let up some today and it didn’t feel as much like a sauna
outside.

Large yachts docked in a lazy row and a
ferry paddled across the water, full of passengers waving to those on shore. I
searched the various platforms along the wall, looking for Candace. Finally, I
spotted the brunette standing by a bench, chatting on her cell phone.

Gone was the earlier smile. In its
place, she wore a scowl. She quickly closed the phone when I approached. I
gripped the envelope and braced myself for the conversation.

“Where did you get the pictures?” Her
eyes gleamed with fire and anger. My eyes zeroed in on her earrings, the ones
she always wore.

“Someone left them for me.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“I’m trying to figure out who killed
Gloria Cunningham.”

After a moment of silence, she chuckled.
“That’s what this is about?”

“I hardly think this is laughing matter,
especially since I’m convinced your senator-in-the-running is the person guilty
of the crime.”

She studied my face. “You’re the
crime-scene cleaner, aren’t you? Michael told me about you and your silly
accusations.”

“He has motive.”

“What?”

“You.”

She let out an airy laugh. “Michael and
I ended our fling months ago. Gloria could have him, for all I cared.”

“You don’t sound very fond of him.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you running his campaign?”

“Because this is my ‘in’ in the
political scene. A bad relationship is not going to ruin it.”

“It has to be awkward working for him
after everything that’s happened.”

“We can separate our personal and professional
lives. Politicians do it every day.”

“Then why did he murder his wife?”

“He didn’t. Michael can’t even kill a
spider, let alone murder someone.”

I let her words sink in. Did she tell
the truth? Or was she covering something up?

“The pictures.” Candace held her hand
out. I gave her the envelope. She pulled out the black and whites and shook her
head.

“Sure enough. I always thought she had
someone trailing us.”

“Who’s
she?”

“Gloria.”

“So, she knew about the affair?” My
interest perked again.

“Affairs.”

I leaned closer. “You weren’t the only
one?”

She laughed again. “No, Michael is quite
the womanizer. I wasn’t the first, and I wasn’t the last.”

“Who else?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not
like he talked to me about it.”

I rose, content with the new information
I’d learned. “Thanks for your help.”

“I hope you’ll look other places for
your killer now. Leave Michael—and this campaign—alone.”

***

Rush hour traffic filled the streets at
full force. I didn’t arrive at the coffeehouse until thirty minutes later.
Parker waited at a table. He rose when I walked in.

“You sounded upset.”

“Cunningham was having an affair with
his campaign manager. He had reason to kill his wife.”

I told him about the pictures and my
encounter with Candace Mills. When I finished, Parker shook his head.

“Can we talk about something other than
the case? I wanted to go out with a pretty girl, not discuss work.”

“But—”

“No buts, Gabby. Even if he was having
affair, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It gives him motive.”

“It gives him a big headache, that’s
what it gives him.”

I leaned back in my chair, wondering if
I pushed his patience too far. “I overheard a conversation between Cunningham
and his lawyer yesterday.”

He sighed. “And?”

“All he’s ever wanted was to be a
senator. He’s worked his entire life to get to this point. What if his wife
knew about his affair and threatened to go public with it? He knew it would
ruin his chances, so he had to kill her.”

Parker took a sip of his coffee. “It
sounds good if you’re watching a made-for-TV movie. I still think William
Newsome is our guy. We have evidence that puts him at the house on the night of
the murder. He made threats. He has the real motive here.”

“But why add murder to armed robbery? He
would just be adding years to his sentence. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Can we talk about something else?
Please?” Parker’s eyes drooped, as if he’d been working too much overtime. His
hair wasn’t perfectly in place like in the past. Maybe he did need a break from
all of his detective work.

I shoved my theories to the back of my
mind and vowed to talk about something else. I waited for an idea to hit me. My
thoughts revolved around Cunningham, however.

“Good coffee, huh?” I finally said,
thinking it beat “nice weather we’re having.”

He shook his head. “You can’t do it, can
you?”

“Do what?”

“Think of anything else to talk about.”

“Of course I can,” I shot back, knowing
the bravado behind my words would require some action. I cleared my throat.
“You look tired. Hard week?”

“You could say that. I’ve only gotten a
few hours of sleep.”

“Why?”

“Big caseloads. Too much crime. You name
it.”

“Do you like being a detective?”

“Most of the time. It’s hard having a
family and working this job.”

“Is that why you got divorced?”

He shrugged. “That and cayenne pepper.”

“What do you mean?”

“My ex-wife and I got into a huge fight
over cayenne pepper.” He shook his head. “It sounds crazy doesn’t it? I
attempted to cook a romantic dinner. I added a little pepper to the salmon. She
didn’t like spicy food and flipped out when she tasted it. She left that
night.”

“Over pepper?”

“That may have been what our fight was
over. But the truth was, our lives just started going in different directions.
She was always the clingy type, you know? She needed someone to be there for
her, holding her hand.”

“Who filed for divorce?”

“She did. Didn’t even tell me until
after she’d done it. I begged her for a second chance, but by that time she’d
already found someone else who had lots of time to give her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It just sounds like such a sad story.”
I traced the rim of my cup with my finger, imagining how hard it must have been
for Parker.

“Hey,” Parker nudged my chin up. “You
know what I like about you?”

“My persistence?”

“The fact that you stand on your own two
feet, that you think for yourself.”

“I thought that’s what you hated about
me.”

“I just hate that you’re trying to
interfere with my investigation.”

“Gabby!” I heard someone call from
across the room. I glanced up and saw Veronica standing by the door with Riley
beside her.

Great, now I was on the double date from
my worst nightmares.

“Well, now I know why you’ve been gone
so much,” Veronica said as she approached the table.

I looked up at her beaming face and
cringed. Why did she have to be so nice? It would be much easier not to like
her if she were rude and spiteful.

“Gabby didn’t tell me she had a man in
her life,” Veronica continued. My cheeks heated again, and I glanced at Riley.
His eyes met mine, but only for a moment.

Parker stood and held out his hand.
“Chip Parker. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Veronica, and this is my fiancé—”

“Riley,” Parker finished, looking him up
and down with disdain. “We’ve met before.”

Riley gave him a curt nod. “Parker.”

“Why don’t you two pull up some chairs
and join us?” Parker offered.

“No, I don’t think—” I started.

“We shouldn’t—” Riley said.

“Sure, we’d love to.” Veronica pulled up
a seat and placed herself between the two of us. I slumped in my chair.

I watched Riley frown before pulling up
a chair on the other side. By me. Cozy, in a Fatal Attraction kind of way.

I tried to think of an excuse to leave,
but my mind had left the building and all I could do was envy it. I couldn’t
come up with an escape plan that wouldn’t seem suspicious.

A sudden headache. An upset stomach. A
bleeding heart.

I plastered a smile across my face. I
scrubbed blood and guts off of floors for a living. I could have coffee with
Riley and Veronica. “So, I never did hear how the two of you met.”

Veronica beamed at her fiancé. “You tell
him, Riley. You’re so much better at it than I am.”

Riley shook his head. “No, I insist. You
tell.”

She bobbed her head from shoulder to
shoulder, before grinning. “Well, okay, since the cat’s got your tongue.” Her
glowing eyes fixed on me. It took everything I had not to picture a cat—a big
cat, maybe a mountain lion—licking her tongue.

“We were in law school together and
didn’t even know each other. Then he got an internship with my father, Senator
Laskin.”

Marry the boss’s daughter. Good career
move. I tried not to let that show on my face.

Riley looked away before our gazes could
meet, and Veronica continued, oblivious. “My dad had him over to eat one night
and that was it. It was love at first sight, right Riley?”

He smiled and nodded. “Right.”

Veronica looked back and forth between
Parker and me. “How about you two? How did you meet?

“We’re not really dating—” I started.

“We met through a case I’m working on.”
Parker reached across the table and grabbed my hand.

“How romantic.” Veronica gushed. “Just
like in those detective movies.”

Didn’t the woman usually end up dead in
those detective movies? Man, this was
just
like one those.

I offered a weak smile. “Something like
that.”

She looked back and forth between the
two of us, before sliding her chair back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me,
I’m going to run to the restroom.”

The life of the party left the three of
us sitting in silence.

Parker stood next, the coward. “I’m
going to get a refill. Anyone like anything?”

I shook my head. When the two of them
left, awkwardness, as thick as an iced vanilla latte, filled the air. I cleared
my throat.

“So, you’re engaged? That was the big
secret you didn’t want to talk about? That, and the fact that I’m a big pet
project for you and your so-called faith?”

Riley tilted his head, weariness showing
in his slumped shoulders. “It was never like that, Gabby. It’s complicated.
There’s more to the story than you know.”

“Maybe you could have showed me the
Sunday school badge you got for trying to witness to the lost. That would have
clued me in. And you certainly had your work cut out for you with me. You
deserved a big fat pat on the back from your church friends.”

He started to say something, but I was
on a roll.

“Or even a simple, ‘By the way, I’m
engaged to a rich supermodel who has me wrapped around her little finger,’
would have been helpful.”

“Gabby—”

“And what about Harold? You promised to
be his lawyer and you’re going back to California?
That just boils my blood. You’re no better than the rest of us, church boy. You
can talk about God all you want, but that’s all it is—talk.”