Murder on Sagebrush Lane (13 page)

36

Ginger sat at her desk, across from DJ, Harrie, and Swannie. DJ had just finished using her phone.

“Good,” he said. “The phone company is setting up a trap and trace on both our phone and Mom’s. If he calls again, let’s hope we get something.”

Since Harrie had told the story of her latest encounter with the spooky caller, there had been a flurry of activity. Swannie made arrangements for officers to stake out Harrie and DJ’s house. They would keep a low profile, but be there in case the Creep showed up. DJ had checked in with his office and briefed them about the current situation. Harrie sat with a notepad, writing down as much as she could remember of the conversation she'd had with her breathy caller.

She tossed the notepad over to DJ. "That's the best I can do. It may not be exact, but I certainly remember the gist of the conversation."

DJ looked it over. "I wonder if he actually went to the base of the Tram, or if he simply guessed you would skip the meeting."

Harrie shook her head. "It seemed like he knew I didn't go. But it was strange, because I got to the house right at 10:05. It was maybe five minutes later, say 10:10, when the phone rang. I thought it was Ginger calling to harass me for not letting her know as soon as I got home. I certainly didn't expect it to be him.”

Her brow furrowed, as she recalled the events. “It's weird, because I remember when I crossed Tramway on the way east, I glanced north in the direction of the base of the Tram. It was exactly 10:00 a.m. then, and I wondered what was happening, and if you guys had taken him into custody yet."

"Everybody was in place," Swannie said, and ran his fingers through his hair. Frustration radiated from him. "I spotted a guy watching everybody, you know, one of those nervous types. I thought for sure he would approach Sgt. Paiz, and then, it appeared as though he’d heard a voice spoken directly into his ear. He abruptly stopped, turned around, and walked out of the area. I looked at my watch. It was 10:05 on the dot."

A tiny muscle twitched rhythmically in DJ's jaw. "Maybe that's exactly what happened. Maybe there was a voice that did speak into his ear."

Harrie looked at him. "Seriously? Are you saying he could have a partner?"

Swannie's eyes widened. "That's an excellent point. We've been under the assumption this guy worked alone, but he could just as easily be in this with an accomplice."

Harrie shuddered. "That's a scary thought. One creep after me is bad enough. Two is truly more than I can deal with."

"Did you get a good look at the guy before he bailed?" Ginger asked.

Swannie shook his head. "Not really. We're getting the footage from the cameras we installed. Maybe we can get a decent photo to identify him."

They discussed the situation a few more minutes, and then Swannie said, "Sorry to break this up, but I have to head downtown. Our technician is probably back by now with that footage."

He turned to Harrie, "I trust you'll keep me posted if you see or hear from this guy again?"

"Of course I will," she said. "But maybe when I slammed down the phone he got the message that I’m not interested in his little game."

DJ shook his head. "Don't count on it."

"So now what?" Harrie looked at her watch and frowned. "I really have to get to the store. I promised I'd pick up a few things for Caroline."

"Hang here for another few minutes. I need to make a call." DJ pushed a lock of Harrie's hair back from her face. "Then I'll go with you to the store."

DJ turned to use the phone on Ginger’s desk again. Harrie motioned to her friend to follow her, Ginger nodded, and they left DJ to his call and went into Harrie's office.

"What?" Ginger sat in the chair in front of Harrie's desk.

Harrie sat in the chair beside her and leaned in. "We have to come up with a plan. If DJ insists on following me everywhere I go, I'll lose what I have left of my sanity. Come on, help me out here."

Ginger raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. "Don't drag me into this. If DJ thinks he should escort you around town for a few days, I'm not going to be the one to argue with him."

"But Ginger, come on. You know I can't have him watching me like a hawk. He's already so protective, and now I can't even go shopping by myself? I'm not used to being so—so—" she struggled for words, and shrugged when none came to her.

Ginger stood and headed for the door. "You have my deepest sympathy, really you do, but I happen to agree with the man." She stopped when Harrie jumped up, sputtering incoherently.

Ginger held up her index finger, pointed at Harrie. "Zip it. This time you're on your own, my nutty little friend. Cool your jets for just a few days until they figure out what's going on with this guy. Think of it as a vacation, for Pete's sake."

"Yeah, great vacation," Harrie muttered. "Just what I've always wanted: House arrest and my very own FBI body guard."

"Woman," Ginger said with a big grin on her face, "you do have a short memory. Did you or did you not tell me you thought it was the coolest thing in the world to have a husband who was an FBI agent?"

Harrie frowned. "Sure, use my own words against me.” Then she smiled. “I do think it's cool—as long as I'm not the person he's treating like a suspect."

"Think of it as witness protection instead." Ginger opened the door to the office and turned back to Harrie. "And stop your bellyaching. You have the handsomest body guard of anyone I know."

A tiny grin turned up the corners of Harrie's mouth. "I can't argue with that. Maybe I can work it to my advantage."

37

Winnie Devlin had been in such a hurry this morning, and Herb took an unusually long time getting out the door. Her anxiousness for him to leave almost made him suspicious, and that was the last thing she needed. Fortunately, she remembered the construction on I-40, and she reminded him about it. He must have assumed that was her reason for encouraging him to get an early start on his day, because instead of asking her questions, he thanked her profusely and left.

With him safely gone, she hurried in to get ready. She showered, dressed, and ran a comb through her hair. Thankfully she’d never been dependent on makeup. She’d tried it once, but decided it wasn’t worth all the time and effort, not to mention the incredible sums of money women spent on that stuff.

A look in the bedroom mirror told her this was as good as it would get. Time was wasting, and she had things to do. She poured herself another cup of coffee and took it with her to her sewing room. She removed the cover from the computer and put a coaster beside the keyboard for her cup. Now she could get to work.

She spent the next half hour checking emails. There were several needing her attention. She took care of those, then clicked on the folder innocuously named “Recipes” and opened the document inside. She recorded all the events of yesterday, including her interview with the police, and the visit with Harrie McKinsey Scott. It took her another half an hour to complete her journal entry, then she opened her “To Do” list. She was pleased with her progress. She was actually ahead of schedule, thanks to her unexpected helper. She was happy to have an ally, but wasn’t particularly thrilled with the most recent request she’d received in her email this morning. She had no intention of complying of course. That would be insanity. Besides, it didn’t fit in with her plans at all.

She added the item to her “to do” list anyway. It was best to appear to be cooperative, even if her helper never saw the list. By writing it down, she could honestly say it was being taken care of. She never lied if she could help it.

With all that done, she shut down the computer and put everything back the way it was. There was nothing to show what she’d been up to. She even had the forethought to remove the coaster from the desk and put it back in the kitchen, along with her empty coffee cup. She congratulated herself. She’d thought of everything.

The clock on her mantel showed 10:30 a.m. Her new acquaintance would be here within the hour, and she decided a little baking was in order. It was always good to greet guests with a freshly baked treat, and she had just the thing to entertain and impress her guest. She hoped it would do the trick because she wanted a favor from her visitor, a task she couldn’t pull off on her own.

She got out her apron and assembled the ingredients she’d need. Her mother’s secret recipe for Golden Cinnamon Nut Coffee Cake was just the ticket.

Winnie Devlin was ready for anything now. She was definitely on her way to better things.

38

Lt. Bob Swanson wasn’t having a good day. The stakeout had been a bust, and worse, the suspect had once again contacted Harrie McKinsey Scott.

“Give me good news, Tim. I really need it.”

The tech from the crime lab had just walked in to Swanson’s office with a big grin on his face. “We pulled out several shots. They’re not great, but the individual is recognizable. See for yourself.” He tossed a stack of photos on Swannie’s desk.

Swannie shuffled through the pictures. “Not bad. Have you run these through facial recognition?”

“That’s what we’re doing now. It may take time. We’re using several databases, so I have high hopes.”

“Okay, keep me posted. And I don’t have to tell you this is high priority.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“How about that set of fingerprints I gave you? Anything there?”

“Not under the name Bonnie Bellows, but we did get a hit on another woman.” He set a folder in front of Swannie. “Monica Chambers is the name that popped up. She has a couple of drunk and disorderly complaints. No convictions and not even a court appearance. It’s odd, though. I didn’t get anything on her name prior to about three years ago.”

“Did you find a current address for her?”

“As far as anyone knows, she lives in New York City. But get this. No one has seen her around there in months. She disappeared around the first of the year.”

“Did you find a photo of her?”

The tech put a picture in front of Swannie. “She has a New York driver’s license. This is what she looked like three years ago when it was issued.”

Swannie studied the image. The woman had dark hair and wore glasses. At first glance, she did not appear to be the same woman as the annoying Bonnie Bellows. He took a closer look. There was something about the eyes. He shook his head. With her glasses on, he couldn’t really tell.

“I’ll take this to show Harrie and DJ. Maybe they’ll see something I can’t. Let me know as soon as you have anything on the facial recognition.”

“Yes, sir.” Tim left and another officer came through the door.

“Sir, that woman is here again.”

Swannie’s eyes narrowed. “Bonnie Bellows?”

“Yes, sir, that’s her.”

“Okay.” Swannie scooped up the files on his desk and moved them to his top drawer. “Give me thirty seconds then send her in.”

He turned on a small tape recorder and dropped it into his breast pocket. Then he selected a cold case file and became deeply involved in its contents. There was a light tap on his door.

“Come in,” he said, his tone one of authority and impatience. He kept his attention on the file in front of him.

The blonde came to a halt in front of his desk. She cleared her throat with a touch of annoyance.

Swannie peered over the top of his reading glasses. “Yes?”

Bonnie Bellows stood with her hands on her hips. “When am I gonna get my kid?”

39

“Let’s go over what we know.” Harrie stared straight ahead through the windshield, her brow furrowed and her eyes focused.

DJ glanced away from the road just long enough to take in her intense posture. True to his word, he and Harrie were headed for the grocery store. This latest phone call had him concerned. He didn’t want her to see how much.

“Okay, what do we think we know?” He grinned as he restored attention to his driving.

“We know Michael Rinaldi worked at Sandia Labs and was involved with a lot of high level computer stuff. We know that a man named John Smith told you Rinaldi planned to give a thing to an unnamed guy who was killed before the transfer could occur. And, according to John Smith, he took over for the guy who was killed and intended to meet Rinaldi and take possession of this unknown object.”

“Right so far, but he’s not John Smith. I found out this morning he’s ex-CIA, and his name is Colin Crider.”

DJ now had Harrie’s attention. “He’s CIA?”

He shook his head. “According to the CIA, he hasn’t been with them for five years. What we can’t figure out is what brings him to Albuquerque, and why he would be involved with Rinaldi.”

Harrie frowned in concentration. “So now, we’re thinking Rinaldi might have sold national secrets, and this Colin Crider guy pretended to be the buyer?”

“Let’s don’t jump to any conclusions. We only have Colin Crider’s word that Rinaldi planned to turn an object over to another guy. This could all be a story Crider cooked up to explain his interest in Rinaldi’s murder.”

“Okay, so what made Crider interested in Michael Rinaldi? It seems unlikely they would have had any business together. Why should a Sandia Labs computer scientist like Rinaldi be of any interest to the CIA?”

DJ pulled into a parking slot at the supermarket. “Hold that thought. Let’s get the stuff on Mom’s list and get you back to Katie.”

They made quick work of the shopping. In less than half an hour they were back in the car.

“Now” Harrie said, as she settled back and fastened her seatbelt, “We were discussing why Colin Crider might have been involved with Michael Rinaldi.”

“I have another question we should consider.” DJ deftly backed out of the parking space and maneuvered onto Ventura Street. “Let’s don’t get too bogged down worrying about Crider and Rinaldi.”

“But don’t you think the murder is somehow connected to Rinaldi stealing secrets and selling them? It seems so obvious. Who else has a better reason?”

“Well, think about it,” DJ said. “We have two women who, in theory, are unknown to each other, and they’ve both made a claim that they’re related to Katie.”

Harrie nodded. “But at least Bonnie Bellows is actually related to Katie.”

“Only because she’s Katie’s mother’s step-sister. That wouldn’t hold up in court.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What would that be?” DJ asked.

“Bonnie Bellows says she was a surrogate mother to Katie. Believe me, I don’t like this, but if she’s telling the truth, that means she not only donated her womb, but probably her eggs as well. That would certainly give her priority.”

DJ shook his head. “Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t. But if she’s lying, it’s possible Winnie Devlin could be the child’s grandmother. If Katie is the same child Winnie arranged to have given out for adoption, she really is Winnie’s granddaughter.”

Harrie straightened up. “That woman is delusional. You didn’t talk to her, but I did, and she’s a nut case. Don’t you think it would be the wildest coincidence in the world, almost out of the realm of possibility if you ask me, that the Rinaldis just happened to move in next door to the woman who arranged for them to adopt Katie?
If
she was in fact adopted, which I doubt. We have to prove that isn’t what happened.”

DJ pulled up to the gate at Canyon Estates, waved to the guard, and drove through. “Let’s take one thing at a time,” he said, as he threaded his way through the winding streets.

Harrie looked at the dashboard clock. “Damn. It’s after one. I told Caroline I’d only be gone about an hour.”

DJ parked in front of his mother’s house. “Don’t worry. I called her and told her what happened. She knows we had things to do before you could get back.”

He carried the bags of groceries inside, and Harrie and Caroline put them away.

“I have to get back to work,” DJ said. He leaned down to kiss Harrie, but she took a step back.

“What about my car? It’s still at Southwest Editorial Services.”

“We’ll get it later,” he said. “ I have to go conduct an interview.”

“But what if I need to go out?”

Caroline said, “I have my car.”

Harrie smiled at Caroline. “Thanks, but I’m worried about leaving my car parked at the office overnight.”

DJ took Harrie by the shoulders. “We’ll get it tonight after dinner, okay?”

Harrie’s frown dissolved into a grin. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He tilted up her chine and kissed her. When he let her go, she remained still with her eyes closed.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh huh,” she said dreamily and breathed a long, contented sigh. “Don’t be late for dinner.”

He grinned. “Oh, I won’t be.” Promise you aren’t going anywhere until I get back?”

“I promise,” she said. Then a thought occurred to her. “Wait. Did you say you’re going out to The Labs?”

“Yes, why?”

“Will you talk to Michael Rinaldi’s boss?”

As he opened the door he said, “That’s the plan. Maybe he knows what Michael had that Colin Crider wanted.” He turned back just before he walked out.

“And maybe he knows why your mysterious caller thinks you have what he wants.”