Leftovers (8 page)

I said my good-byes and waved at the guard on the way out. He was less than enthused by my cheerfulness.

I was in the elevator when my phone chirped. It was a text from Detective Danvers, asking me if I was with Mariel. I honestly told him that I wasn’t. He replied, asking if I had been with her. He obviously knew about it from the guard, though I hadn’t seen the officer leave his post while I was there. I wasn’t sure how word had been conveyed, but it obviously had.

I told him that I had been, and his next text instructed me to go home, and he’d meet me there.

It was only a short drive, so I had little excuse to be anywhere else when he arrived. I headed home to wait.

He showed up at the door around ten minutes after I arrived. “What the hell are you doing?” was his greeting.

“Looking into this matter. No one believed me when I said that Linda Zoz had been murdered by someone else. Now everyone seems to be looking into her death. Why is that?” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for the answer.
This ought to be good,
I thought. A part of my mind wondered how we had moved so far from having a collegial relationship in our last case to outright arguments now. While the cases were similar, I was still working to solve murders, just like before. Was our relationship different or was the case different? I thought again about Land’s warning and how so many government employees had been a part of the plot to keep my aunt from getting a food truck. Was Danvers working with those people this time instead of me?

“I know. It’s because of you and sticking your nose into matters that don’t concern you. That’s why, and for the record, it’s a damned dangerous thing to do. People don’t like it when you threaten their perfect crime.” His neck had begun to get splotchy, which told me that I was getting to him.

“I call it avenging someone’s death and not sweeping it under the rug by blaming someone else for the murder.” I felt my face start to warm. I was getting pretty angry, and in looking at myself, I thought that part of it had to be the fact that we’ve never discussed our kiss or anything else. Now he came over here telling me what to do as if he owned me. I wasn’t having any of that. Even if we had a relationship, I knew that I would behave just the same as I did now.

“So what did Mariel Mills tell you?” he asked. I wasn’t sure if this was a test to see what I’d say or if he genuinely wanted to know. I had only garnered two pieces of evidence from the conversation. I decided to offer him one and leave the other for me.

“Andy Zoz and the kids are hiding out. They can be found at the 385 number in the most recent outgoing calls of the dead lady’s phone.” Tracking someone’s cellphone and getting them to come in was more the work of the police. They had the phone so they had the complete number. They could ping the phone to see where he was located and contact him then. I couldn’t possibly do that on my own, especially if it turned out that Andy was the one who had killed his wife. The police were way more capable of taking on a potential killer and bringing him in. The other piece of evidence could wait until later.

“You looked at the victim’s phone?” That seemed to be the only thing that Danvers took from our conversation. It frustrated me that he missed my proffered clues or brilliant deductions. I had tied Linda Zoz to the dead woman via Andy’s mysterious cellphone. Now it was no longer a case of coincidence. The dead woman had information that only one other person, Mariel, was supposed to have. The fact that she had his contact information suggested that they could be in league with each other—or they could have a romantic type of relationship which would have made Linda superfluous. I had given him motive and connections.

“It was on the ground. Her purse was near my feet. I picked up the phone, looked at it quickly and threw it in the bag. I gave it to you seconds later. I didn’t steal it, and I didn’t mess things up.”

Danvers’ eyes squinted at me. “You had numbers written on your arm yesterday. That’s what those were. You wrote down the numbers from the phone.”

I held my arms out for inspection. “Nothing here. I think you’re imagining things.” I was surprised that Danvers had let the phone numbers go at the time he’d seen them. I wondered why he had waited.

He snorted. “I don’t need to imagine things when I’m around you. Reality is bad enough.”

“You didn’t think that when you were kissing me,” I said. I was a bit shocked that the statement came out of my mouth that way. It was part taunt and part challenge. My anger today had made me think of our unresolved feelings, but I hadn’t planned on mentioning those feelings to him.

“It was a mistake. That’s all. A mistake.” He wouldn’t look at me as he said the words.

“Nice to know,” I said. “That way I can make sure it won’t happen again.” Even though my exterior stayed determined, I felt my insides wither a bit. I had liked this guy, not head over heels, but liked him. Now I felt slightly used and confused by him.

His eyes flashed, and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t speak for a minute. Finally he said, “You need to stay out of this. I’m warning you.”

He turned and walked out. There was certainly no romance and no kiss tonight. I fumed at his arrogance and his thought that I should stay out of the way, even though I was the one who had managed to find out the truth about this murder.

I had a hard time sleeping that night, thinking of witty lines that I wished I had said.

Dragging on just a few hours’ sleep, I made it into work the next day. Land had obviously picked up the truck and had started preparations long before I showed up.

Land gave me a smile. “Late night with Detective Danvers?” he asked. “How’s that going?”

I rolled my eyes, pretending to be nonchalant. I wasn’t certain if Land knew details from Danvers or not. “Not like you think. He’s pissed at me for going to see Mariel Mills yesterday. He came over last night and yelled at me for writing down those phone numbers.” At 3 a.m., I had come up with a few witty retorts, but by then I didn’t want to see Danvers again.

“So what did the lady have to say? Anything interesting?” Land actually stopped what he was doing and listened to me. I wasn’t sure if this was because Danvers had been put in his place, or he was really interested in the happenings around the food truck.

“A few things. I dropped one of them on Danvers, and he wasn’t too pleased about it.” I started counting the money and then did it a second time to be sure.

“Why would you tell him anything that you learned? I told you a long time ago that you shouldn’t trust him. That applies more now than it ever did before.” Land’s expression was somber. I wondered why it mattered more now.

“Care to elaborate on that?” I asked. “I’d love to know how you know him and why you think that.”

Land shook his head. “Some things you just have to trust me on. This is one.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for continuing to be mysterious. You yelled at me the other day for not talking to you about your life, and when I do, you shut me down.”

Land cut up several pickles before responding. “Latin men are mysterious at times. Get used to it.”

I sighed. I wasn’t going to get any answers today. “Well, for what it’s worth, I gave him the one piece of information because he’s got an organization that can do things that I can’t. One of those phone numbers on my arm apparently belongs to Linda Zoz’s husband. So that ties the mystery woman to Linda Zoz and her murder.”

“But why give it to him? He could likely mess up and ruin the evidence.”

“It’s one of the partial phone numbers. So I would have had to call 1000 numbers just to find out if I had the right guy – and then that would only work if he actually told the truth when I called. The police are better equipped because they have the full phone number. No calling 1000 numbers to maybe get a right answer. They have the equipment to trace the cell phone and track it. They can get a subpoena and dump the calls made. Then they can find Andy Zoz and learn what he knows. I can’t do any of those things.”

Land shrugged. “I guess. I just don’t trust Danvers to do the right thing all the time. There’s a large amount of doing what’s best for him in any investigation.”

“Well, I have another clue, but I’m going to wait until Mariel is feeling better to work on that one. It’s more my speed and less James Bond.” I thought of my conversation with Mariel and her mention of the strange letter from Linda. I wondered if that letter held a clue that could be used to solve her murder. I planned on asking her about it, but I wanted to wait until she was home. After my last experience at the hospital, I was wary of going in again without a private security detail.

“Just be careful. This situation is not what you think it is. It’s a far cry from a prankster on a television set. This is another level all together.”

I squinted at him. “Okay, spill. I can only stand so much mysteriousness in one day. What do you mean by that?”

Land stopped what he was doing so that he could count on his fingers. “The Linda Zoz case was closed until you decided to reopen it on your own. The mysterious woman was killed by a sniper. Not poison or a bash on the head, but by someone who knows how to kill a person from the convenience of a quiet place fairly far removed from you. That’s an entirely different type of crime than you’re used to dealing with.”

I had to admit that he was right. This sounded more spy-related or military-grade type stuff, but I couldn’t see how the refusal to issue a food truck permit could have led to all this. It seemed too mundane for such efforts. It was like the Navy SEALs trying to steal my Grandmother Ida’s mashed potato recipe. I couldn’t see it.

“So what suggestions do you have for this? Now that it’s out in the open, it’s not like I can go back and say that I was wrong.” I doubted that any newspaper would print my retraction in the light of two murders and an assault.

Land moved toward me. “You can stop getting involved. You can stop visiting people who were attacked and stop making suggestions to the police. Just do your job, and keep your head down for a bit. Maybe this will all blow over.”

I gave a lot of thought to what Land said as I finished up the coffee and prepped for opening. I had more or less decided to follow his advice when we opened for the day.

The air was crisp and clear outside, and it appeared to be a fairly calm day. I could focus on making the food truck more profitable and leave the murders to the police.

I was just finishing up with the morning crowds when a woman approached the window. She seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her face. She had dark, flowing hair and a thin body. She wore a dress of some manmade fabric and high-heeled shoes. She could have worked in any of the buildings around here. Yet I was struck that I should know her somehow.

She looked at the menu for a long time before speaking.

“I would like two hot dogs and a cup of coffee. Are you the woman who saw my sister die?” she asked unceremoniously.

Immediately it came to me. She resembled the woman who had been shot in the square. There was a strong similarity in terms of her nose and eyes. The difference was that her features were animated, where the other woman had been dead. She was beautiful in a rather exotic way. I wondered if she could be Basque, like Land, which made me wonder how much he knew about these women. Could the woman killed by the sniper have been coming to visit Land? Everyone had assumed that she’d been coming to visit me, but since she was a different person, there was no reason why she couldn’t have been coming to see him instead.

I cleared my throat and spoke slowly. “I saw her get shot, yes. But I wasn’t the only one around. There were policemen who saw it much more clearly.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t a humorous laugh. It was a dry, brittle sound that worried me. “Do you really think that the police would tell me what had happened? They have been of no help at all.”

After my experiences with Detective Danvers, I could easily believe that. “I don’t have much to add. I was pretty far away when it happened. At first, I just thought that she had tripped and fallen. It wasn’t until people started screaming that I realized it was something more.”

She nodded. “So it was a quick, painless death. That’s good to hear.” It seemed like an odd thing to say, but people grieve in different ways. I wasn’t about to judge how anyone coped with the death of a loved one. Still I wasn’t sure I’d judge a death solely by the speed of it.

“I honestly don’t know much to tell you,” I said. “Were you two close?”

“We were. We’ve lived in this area about six months, so neither one of us knew very many people. So we spent a lot of time together.” Her eyes watched me carefully even as she spoke.

I put on my best mourning face. I did feel sorry for this woman, but it was hard to show any true grief when you’d only just met someone. “I’m so sorry. Why was she coming downtown? Did she work here?”

The woman shook her head. “No, she had business with the immigration department. We’re from overseas, and my sister wanted to extend her stay. She was on her way across the square when she was shot.”

“Where are you from?” I asked, trying to be polite and ask a few questions while I was at it. I could hear just a trace of an accent that I didn’t recognize. It was nothing like Land’s accent, so I didn’t have a clue as to its origin.

She named a small province of Russia. I wasn’t exactly sure where it was, but I knew that it had been a part of the Soviet Union prior to its split, and it had been reclaimed by Russia following the split. No wonder these sisters didn’t want to go back.

Land gave me an odd look, but I tried to ignore him. “I’m going to show this lady to the police station. She’ll be able to give the police the information they need to identify the woman.”

He nodded, but didn’t speak. I let myself out of the door and met the woman in front of the food truck. Land came to the window and watched me intently as we crossed Elm and headed toward the government building. He stood there until we entered the building.

I wasn’t happy about seeing Danvers so soon again after he’d told me to mind my own business—and that our kiss had meant nothing. While I had thought of many retorts in the meantime, I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of the woman I was escorting into the building. We went up the elevator and walked into the police station. I knew where I was going, and I led the woman to Danvers’ office.

He was on the phone, but he hung up as soon as we entered the room. He stood and waited for an introduction. “This woman stopped by the food truck this morning. She says that she is the sister of the woman who was shot. I brought her here so you can get the details.”

Until I’d spoken that sentence, I hadn’t realized that there was significant room for doubt in the woman’s story. Granted they looked similar, but she had no corroboration of her story that I’d seen. Perhaps she would provide some to Danvers.

I had no real desire to sit around and wait for Danvers to decide if she was telling the truth or not. I felt very awkward, given his revelation from yesterday. So I felt it best to go back to the food truck and learn more later. I turned on my heel and left them together.

I hadn’t gotten this woman’s phone number—or even her name—but I had no doubt that I could get it later if I needed to find it. For starters, if her story checked out, I’d be able to find her from the surname of her sister.

I hiked back to the food truck and finished up the shift. Lunch went surprisingly well. Business had been booming lately, and the discussions on a second food truck had started to have a very real feel to them. I was excited about the opportunity, but at the same time, I knew that I would miss Land. It would be difficult to find a suitable replacement for him in the current truck.

Given the amount in the deposit bag today, Land decided to accompany me to the bank to drop off the deposit. One of the nice things about being done by 2 p.m. was that all bank deposits were completed the same day, which added some luster to the accounts.

We walked into the bank together. Fortunately, the bank was relatively empty today, so I was at a teller’s window in under a minute. The teller punched a few buttons on the computer and looked at me. “Must be a busy day. This is your second deposit!”

I furrowed my brow. I could be forgetful, but I knew that I wouldn’t forget an early deposit today. I asked to see the statement and the balance. She pressed a few more keys and slid the account balance sheet under the plastic divider.

The balance looked much healthier than it should have—by about $30,000. I offered the slip to Land who read it and raised an eyebrow. “Look at the time. You know this wasn’t me,” I reminded him.

The statement read 9:34 a.m., which was in the middle of breakfast rush. He would have had to pour coffee as well as prep the hot dogs. He knew that it wasn’t possible. I had been working side-by-side with him since 5 a.m. “What I don’t like is the amount of money,” he said quietly, pointing to the deposit amount.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I liked the amount just fine, though I knew that I’d have to return the cash to its rightful owner.

“Exactly how much did your aunt pay for the food truck?” Land asked.

I realized immediately what he was getting at. My aunt had bought the food truck at a police auction for the exact same amount. I tried to convince myself that this was all a huge coincidence, but it seemed like a losing argument. The amount was beyond suspicious. Yet I could think of no explanation why a stranger would put that amount in my account. Did they want me to buy another truck? Was this a payback for my aunt?

The teller looked from one of us to the other several times, as if she were watching a ping-pong match. She had finished the latest deposit and was sliding another deposit slip and account balance under the plastic divider. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

I started to approach the window to explain when the plate-glass window in front of us exploded. Land tugged my sleeve hard, pulling me down to the floor. I landed with a thud that knocked the wind out of me.

The sound of gunfire against the paneled walls and plastic of the dividers pierced the room. The rounds were loud, and the sounds of split wood and shattering glass and plastic were louder still. It hurt my ears as it continued.

Land took a gun from his waistband and leaned up to fire back. I counted seven rounds before he brought his hand down. He was wounded. It looked like a bullet had grazed the thumb of his right hand. I started to make a fuss, but Land merely switched the gun to the other hand and began firing again. Nice to be ambidextrous during a shoot-out.

The shots now came mainly from his gun. Recovering slightly, I dialed 911 and shouted to the operator what was happening. I couldn’t hear her response, so I clicked off and turned to look at Land again. He had torn part of his t-shirt off and had it wrapped around his bleeding thumb. He’s stopped firing his gun, and the bank was eerily silent now. My hearing slowly began to return, and I could hear the soft whimpers of the teller behind the counter.