Murder in the River City (11 page)

“Austin, I really have to go. Good-bye.” She hung up, knowing she had to but also hating to cut anyone off like that. She slipped her phone in her pocket and opened the door into Dooley’s.

Detective John Black was at the bar talking to Dooley. She grabbed an apron from the storeroom, tied it around her waist, then took a place behind the bar and grabbed a rag. The bar was spotless, but she hated to stand still. She parked herself in front of the detective. “Hello,” she said as she wiped the counter in front of him.

Dooley gave her a concerned look. “What happened to you, Spud?” he asked, using his old nickname for her. In Ireland, “Spud” meant anyone with the surname of Murphy, and Dooley often called her and her brothers “Spud” when they were little. It reminded her of her very happy early childhood, when her grandmother and mother had still been alive. She missed them both. By the time she was ten, she had no female role models.

She needed to do a better job with the make-up. “I lost a fight with a door,” she said. She hadn’t told Dooley about what happened in Mack’s apartment—only that when she got there it was obvious someone else had been there first. The last thing she needed was her grandfather worrying even more about her. She was grateful Mike had sent him on an errand when she was here yesterday, otherwise the lie wouldn’t have worked.

Black said, “I just told your grandfather that one of your former employees, Callie Wood, was found dead. She was killed the same night as Mack.”

“Callie? The thief?”

“I didn’t make the connection until you sent the employee list. I’m trying to track down her boyfriend, but Detective Garcia just called and said he’s no longer with his employer and he’s not at his apartment.”

Shauna’s mind was going a mile a minute, trying to connect the dots. “What happened to her?”

“She was strangled at Discovery Park.”

“That’s awful,” Shauna said. She hadn’t liked the woman—she was lazy and arrogant—but she hated the thought she’d been murdered so horrifically. She must have been terrified.

Dooley said, “The detective thinks Callie and her boyfriend robbed me and killed Mack.”

“It’s one theory,” Black said, and Shauna had the distinct impression he was backtracking.

Shauna had questions. “And then her boyfriend killed her? Was he the one who broke into Mack’s apartment? The boyfriend? Does he have a name? How could they overpower Mack? Why would Mack let them into the bar? How did they get a hold of the baseball bat?” She couldn’t remember if she’d ever met Callie’s boyfriend. When Callie was working here, Shauna had been neck deep in keeping Murphy & Sons afloat.

“Joey,” Dooley said. “I remember him. Came in a couple of times. Callie gave him free beer. I don’t usually mind, but she spent more time chatting with him than with the customers.”

Black slid over a photo that was obviously enlarged from Joey’s driver’s license. Joey was listed as five foot ten, blond, and 170 pounds. “Is this the man?”

Dooley nodded.

“That’s not the man who attacked me.”

As soon as she said it, Shauna realized she’d let the truth slip. She hadn’t wanted Dooley to know what happened because it would give him one more thing to stress over. Like he didn’t have enough between Mack’s murder, the funeral, the insurance, and his own grief.

Dooley snapped his fingers. “I knew you were keeping something from me! You’re a poor liar, Shauna.”

She was a damn shitty liar and knew it. “I’m sorry—I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Too late.”

Black interrupted. “Did Mack know him?”

“Most likely,” Dooley said. “Mack knew Callie was dipping, he admitted it when I fired her. He thought she’d stopped, and he’d paid back what she stole. Said he felt bad for her because she had a rough life.”

“I don’t know what story she told Mack, but she lived in a solid middle-class house growing up in San Diego. Her father was former Navy, her mother a school teacher, and she stole over five thousand dollars from them when she disappeared at age nineteen,” Black said. “Garcia spoke with her mother today, and she said the last time Callie contacted her was three months ago. She said she’d been fired from her job and wanted to come home but needed a thousand dollars to pay her back rent and buy a plane ticket. Her mom sent it, but Callie never went home.” 

Shauna couldn’t imagine begging to come home and then just taking the money. But she couldn’t imagine disappearing for years after stealing from her parents. She’d never have even thought of it.

She wasn’t naïve. She knew her family was unusually close-knit and considered their bond truly special. Other people had much harder lives, and even though the construction business for the Murphy’s was feast or famine, they’d always stuck together. To steal from family—that was a grave sin in her book.

“Why would Callie rob us?” Dooley said. “She’d know we didn’t have much money that late at night. She knew I took the days receipts when I left.”

Black pondered that. Shauna watched him closely. He was a smart guy, constantly thinking, but he kept his face blank. She hated that. She wanted someone she could read.

“Well?” Shauna prompted.

Black said slowly, “There may have been more to the robbery than money. Perhaps she thought the baseballs were worth more than what they appraised for.”

“That’s thin,” Shauna said. “And you know it.”

Black smiled at her, but his eyes didn’t. “It’s nice you can read my mind so easily.”

She sighed, exasperated. “It’s obvious now that she or her boyfriend knew the Babe Ruth was fake and left it.”

“Which leads credence to the theory you just attributed to me, that they killed Mack for the baseballs.”

“They may have wanted to steal the baseballs, but why would they kill him?”

“Because he could identify them?”

“And why did her boyfriend kill Callie?”

“Maybe she didn’t plan on killing Mack. Threatened to go to the police.”

It made sense. Dammit, it made a
lot
of sense.

Except. “This Joey Gleason—he didn’t break into Mack’s apartment. It was someone else, someone taller and heavier. A partner? Why? Did Mack have something of value?”

Black smiled, and this time it lit his dark eyes. “Now you really are thinking like a cop,” he said.

She couldn’t decide if he was being condescending or not.

Black said, “I know Mack was a good friend to you both, but was he ever into anything that might have gotten him in trouble? Maybe in the past—did he have friends on the other side of the law?”

Dooley frowned. Shauna knew what he didn’t want to say, but she let her grandfather tell it in his own way. “Mack’s been with me for nine years,” he said. “He had a rough time at first. Served in the Army, Desert Storm, honorable discharge. He didn’t want to come back home—but couldn’t go back because of shrapnel in his leg. He tried a lot of jobs. When he came to me, he was in debt. Gambling. Legal gambling, as far as I know—lost his house, his car, his family. All in Reno. Moved here for a fresh start. I don’t think he was gambling anymore, but sometimes—sometimes I suspected he was going over the mountain, to Reno, to play cards. But he didn’t seem to have worries, never asked for more money. I never saw any discrepancies in the books. He wasn’t stealing from me.”

“I concur,” Shauna said. “I would have noticed.” After learning how Jason Butler had bilked investors, she’d been doubly careful with all the accounting records she kept, for both her father and her grandfather.

“Did he ever have more money than he should have had?”

“You saw his apartment, right? He’s been there for nine years. Rent’s not expensive. I think he spent more for his television than all his furniture combined.” Dooley smiled sadly at the memories. “He loved his sports. Has a car, nothing special.”

“His bank statements are in line with his salary and lifestyle,” Black said. He didn’t have to tell them that, and Shauna appreciated that he was including them in the investigation.

“There’s one thing,” Dooley said, hesitation in his voice.

He didn’t say anything at first. Shauna prompted, “Da, what is it? You have to tell us.”

“I called his daughter Missy. She still lives in Reno. He wasn’t on good terms with her or his ex. He’s been sending her money when he can—she’s a single mom. She said she already knew, that a Sacramento detective had talked to her about his murder.”

Black tensed. “When?”

“I talked to her yesterday morning. Tuesday. I meant to call her Monday, but—” His voice trailed off.

“Did she say anything else?”

“No.”

“Do you have her contact information?”

“I’ll get it.” Dooley shuffled toward his office in the storeroom.

Shauna said quietly, “That wasn’t a detective who spoke to her, was it?”

Black shook his head. “I didn’t send anyone to Reno. I would have contacted the local police department if I needed something from her.” He stood and said, “Tell Dooley I’ll take a rain check on the Guinness. I have some calls to make. Can you send me the daughter’s contact information?”

“Of course,” Shauna said. “And you’re welcome anytime, Detective.”

He smiled. “Glad to be on your good side again, Ms. Murphy.”

She didn’t know if he was serious or not.

Chapter Twelve

Sam called John, filled him in on what he’d learned at Coresco & Hunt Law Offices, and went to visit a friend of his for some background information.

Manny Rodriguez was a former cop who’d left Sac PD at the same time Sam did. But Sam never wanted to give up his badge, while Manny resented the scrutiny and bad blood he and Sam had gotten after turning in Sam’s former partner for bribes.

Manny had a small office in a converted Victorian on I Street, close enough to the courthouse and bail bondsman who comprised most of his business. Sam thought it was humorous that the ground floor housed a hair and nail salon, while Manny shared the second floor with a criminal defense lawyer.

“I heard you were back,” Manny said after giving Sam a hug. Manny looked more like the gang-banger he used to play on the streets than the undercover cop he used to be or the private investigator he was now. “I wish you would have taken me up on my offer for a partnership.”

“If I had left the job for anyone, it would have been you,” Sam said. Manny had stuck with him through the arduous investigation and fall-out.

Sam sat in one of the stiff chairs in Manny’s surprisingly sparse office. Looking around he said, “You getting enough work?”

“More than enough. Sure you don’t want to give up the badge?”

“Positive.”

“Can’t believe you came back here.”

“I’m in homicide now. Working with John Black.”

Manny nodded. “Black’s a good cop. His team has the highest clearance rate.”

“Good to know.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“I missed home.”

“You’re divorced, your parents have been dead for years, what’s home?”

“Are you trying to depress me?”

“You came back for that redhead.”

Manny was partly right, but Sam came back as much to fix things with Shauna as to take back his life and former career in Sac PD. Yet, he’d spent half the night wondering if Shauna had been playing a game with him last night or if it her flirting was innocuous. He had the distinct impression she was trying to make a point, but he hadn’t been thinking with his head.

“Tell that girl you love her already.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s
not.
You fucked up, admit it, fix it.”

“Manny, you know Shauna.”

“I do. That’s why you have to tell her it was all your fault, you were an idiot, you weren’t thinking straight, you never thought of her as a sister, and you’re scared to death you’re going to screw it up again.”

“You want me to be that honest?”

Manny shot him a look that, if Sam didn’t know him, would have looked murderous. Six feet of solid Cuban muscle with a long-faded scar on his jawline, Manny looked like a bouncer or an enforcer. When he’d been a cop in Vice, Manny had infiltrated some of the most violent gangs in Sacramento. Sam had known him long enough to know he could act exactly how he looked. He’d gotten out of law enforcement because he feared what he was becoming. He thought it would save his relationship with his girlfriend. It hadn’t. She’d left him. But he still hadn’t returned. Yet this office, this life, had done him well. Manny was a lot calmer and seemed happier than two years ago.

“Sammy, you’ve had a hard on for that chick since forever. Emma was a bitch. You know I couldn’t stand her, but you set up that marriage to fail because you were in love with another woman. Girls know these things. Emma knew it and used it to hurt you.”

“There was never anything between Shauna and me.”

Manny laughed a deep, guttural roar. “Just because you haven’t had sex?” He laughed again. “Sam, you’re right. We should never be partners, if you’re so fucking blind.”

“I thought you were giving up swearing.”

“So sue me.” Manny gave the boring square office a shake. “Now, tell me why you came by? You’re obviously working.”

“What do you know about Coresco & Hunt? Lawyers.”

Manny leaned back in his chair, but his body wasn’t relaxed. “I won’t be taking any business from them, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I don’t—the name came up in a double homicide Black and I are working. Mack Duncan, Dooley’s bartender, was killed at the pub Sunday night. A former employee, female, was killed an hour later at Discovery Park. We have evidence she may have been at the bar, or know the people who were.”

“I’ll preface this to say that I don’t know a lot about all the people working for the firm, but the head honcho, Jimmy Coresco, has ties to what passes as the mafia in Sacramento.”

“They’re not criminal defense.”

“No. They’re worse. If everything I’ve heard is true—and I don’t know anything first hand—Coresco helps criminals launder their money. Sets them up in tax shelters, helps keep their businesses squeaky, knows all the ins and outs of tax law and banking law and corporate law. Very high-end stuff.”