Above the Fold & Below the Belt (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 14)

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Above the Fold & Below the Belt (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 14) Page 12

by Amanda M. Lee


  “There’s no easy answer to that question,” he replied, turning serious. “You’re going to have to wait for a ballistics report from Jake. Many different types of weapons could’ve been used for this particular job, including a standard hunting rifle. The courtyard isn’t that far away, and with a scope picking targets would’ve been easy.”

  I’d expected the answer. “What kind of shooter are we talking about? Would someone have to be proficient to pull this off?”

  “You mean like a trained sniper?”

  “I guess.”

  “I don’t know.” He moved closer to the ledge. “It depends on the goal. If the goal was to hit Savage and Crawford was shot instead, then I don’t think we’re dealing with a professional. If the goal was to hit Crawford, then it’s likely we are dealing with a professional.”

  “A hitman?”

  “I don’t know that I would use that word, but … .”

  I blew out a sigh. “So, someone came up here, watched what was unfolding and picked his moment to shoot. He fired three shots ... .”

  “Five,” Eliot corrected. “I talked to Jake. It was five shots. Only two found their target.”

  “So, were we lucky the other two didn’t find targets or was that deliberate?”

  “I don’t know. Crawford was hit right away, right?”

  I honestly wasn’t sure. “It’s jumbled in my head. Things happened fast and my brain was moving slow. I’m not generally the sort to panic, but I think I lost my mind for a few seconds and became dumb like Fawn.”

  “That’s okay. Most anyone in your position would’ve done the same thing. At least you managed to duck, cover your head.”

  “You wouldn’t have panicked,” I reminded him. “Jake wouldn’t have panicked.”

  “Jake and I were trained in the military,” he argued. “We have an advantage. Don’t get all squirrelly about this. You did the exact right thing — which is not always something I can say about you — and you’re alive. That’s the most important thing.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m not lamenting the fact that I wasn’t Sydney Bristow,” I offered, referring to Jennifer Garner’s character from Alias. “It’s just ... I wish I had a clearer view of what happened. I remember everything, but organizing my thoughts is difficult.”

  “Well, then don’t push yourself. You can only do what you can do.”

  “I guess.” I rolled my neck and turned to face the other direction. Behind the building an alley separated the Main Street strip from another block of buildings on the other side. “Huh,” I muttered as I looked the alley up and down. “I didn’t realize Jenny’s restaurant was directly behind the diner.”

  Eliot moved with me and stared. “And Jenny is the second wife, right?”

  I nodded. “That’s her place. The food looked good, by the way.”

  “I believe we’ve eaten there before. You got red sauce down the front of your shirt and everyone was jealous that you were my girlfriend.”

  I elbowed him as he laughed and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He was offering me comfort I didn’t know I needed. Perhaps the shooting had rattled me more than I realized. “We should eat there again.”

  “You mean now that she’s a suspect?”

  “She’s not a big suspect,” I clarified. “In fact ... .” I broke off when the back door of the restaurant opened to allow Jenny’s exit. She didn’t look up. Why would she? Instead, she glanced around the alley and then made a beckoning motion with her hand.

  “What is she doing?” Eliot asked.

  I admonished him to be quiet and focused on a man who seemed to detach from the alley wall. I hadn’t even noticed he was there until he started moving.

  “That’s Mike Baxter,” he murmured.

  I wanted to know how he recognized the man, but I was more interested in how the duo related to one another, especially when Jenny sidled close and threw her arms around his neck. The kiss they exchanged was hot.

  “Um ... she’s married,” I said blankly.

  Eliot chuckled. “Well, maybe that’s her husband.”

  “I don’t think so. He’s wearing an apron from the restaurant.”

  “Yeah, he’s a bartender.” Eliot tilted his head to the side, considering. “I think he might be a bartender for her. I can’t remember what he told me, but I’m almost positive he said he was a bartender at a Mount Clemens restaurant.”

  “And how do you know him?”

  “He’s a frequent visitor at the gun range.”

  I stilled, surprised. “Really?”

  Eliot frowned. “I know what you’re thinking. A lot of guys hang out at the gun range. It’s a normal thing to do.”

  “I didn’t say anything.” My mind was working at a fantastic rate, though. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “No, but you’re thinking it.” He shook his head. “He’s harmless. He’s one of those guys who tells ridiculous dating stories and has a few beers over pool tables twice a week. He’s not a killer.”

  “Is he a good shot?”

  “Most people who frequent the range are.”

  “So, he is.”

  “Oh, geez!” Eliot slapped his hand to his forehead. “You’re going to make this a thing, aren’t you?”

  I was definitely going to make it a thing. “Don’t worry yourself.” I patted his arm. “I have everything under control.”

  “You have no idea the dread that fills me with.”

  “I’m a professional,” I reminded him. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

  “And here we go.”

  12 Twelve

  I went to the office to file my stories; one about Crawford and his death and the other about the protests. James’ coverage of the trial preliminaries was included in the package, but my stories got higher billing … mostly because the photos of the protests were eye-grabbers. James wasn’t happy with the turn of events, but his happiness was low on my priority list.

  Fish pulled me into a conference room for a quick talk away from prying ears, something that always set my teeth on edge. This instance was no different.

  “We got a call from Tad Ludington,” he announced.

  That wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ll get the tar, you get the feathers.”

  He merely hiked an eyebrow. “Do you want to guess what he called about?”

  I had a few ideas. “He wants to have a meeting with us so we’ll endorse him?”

  Fish smirked. “No, but I expect that call soon. He has another concern.”

  “Erectile dysfunction?”

  Fish ignored the quip. “He’s worried that you’re going to purposely go after him. He wants to make sure you’re barred from covering any election stories about his race.”

  That unimaginable douche nozzle. I really should’ve seen this coming. He played me … and well. I was distracted with the protest and he managed to get exactly what he wanted out of me. Ah … well played.

  “Nothing to say?” Fish prodded.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I said honestly. “Tad is deranged. I have no idea why he would think I would have a vendetta against him.”

  “Oh, please.” Fish made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “We both know you’re going to make it your personal mission to make sure he doesn’t win that election. Don’t bother denying it. You’re not that good a liar.”

  “I disagree. I’m a fantastic liar. You’re just a nonbeliever, which makes you Mr. Crankypants in the face of my astounding wit.”

  Even though it was supposed to be a serious conversation he cracked a smile. “Your mistake was telling Ludington your plans. We both know that he already suspects you’ll try to submarine him. You can’t admit to it. I’d have to pull you off certain beats.”

  “He has to prove I said it.”

  “Which is the only reason you’re still safe,” Fish acknowledged. “He’s going to go out of his way to try to record you saying something. You realize that, right?”


  “Yup. You don’t have to worry. I won’t make a mistake.”

  “Make sure you don’t.” Fish straightened and checked his French cuffs. “As for your stories today, good job. You were obviously busy. For the record, though, you need to be careful. James is making noise about you stealing his thunder. He’s not happy that you got top billing on not one, but two pieces.”

  “He had jury selection today,” I pointed out. “There’s no way to make that sexy.”

  “That’s what I told him. Opening statements are tomorrow. He will probably have the better story.”

  I wasn’t about to let that happen, but there was no sense setting Fish off. We were having a nice moment. “I have a few angles I’m interested in chasing tomorrow. I’m not sure how things will go, but I plan to leave straight from the house. I’ll text you when I know what’s going on. I would make sure you have a photographer at that protest all day because that place is going to erupt multiple times tomorrow.”

  “That’s the plan. I’ll send Jared again. You should be careful if you’re going to spend large blocks of time there, though. You’re the type of woman who will irritate those men.”

  “You mean because I work outside of the house?”

  “Because you have a mouth that won’t quit.”

  “Some say that’s my finest quality.”

  “Who?”

  “Me.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Fish shook his head. “Keep digging. I think there’s more to this story than we know. If anyone can find the goods, it’s you.”

  The simple statement warmed me, though I had no idea why. I wasn’t the sort of person who needed others to validate me. Fish rarely did. “That’s kind of sweet.”

  “Yeah, I’m a sweet guy. Try not to tick off Ludington and fall into his trap. You’re equally likely to lose your head and allow him to get a leg up on you.”

  “Oh, I’m not losing to him.”

  “Over the long haul, no. But he might be able to take you in a few skirmishes. Make sure he doesn’t win a key one.”

  “Have I mentioned how much I love it when men use war terms during normal discussions?”

  “Just go. You did a good job today. Celebrate that, get some sleep, and do it all over again tomorrow.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  I DECIDED TO BE A GOOD GIRLFRIEND and pick up dinner. Actually, a really good girlfriend would’ve broken down and cooked a feast. My idea of cooking was Spaghetti-Os – something Eliot made me promise never to serve him – so I opted for Romano’s Macaroni Grill instead. Eliot was just stripping out of his coat and shoes when I walked in behind him.

  “What’s that?” He seemed surprised by the huge takeout bag in my hand.

  “I can provide for my man.”

  He waited.

  “What?” I felt exposed. “I picked up dinner. It’s not a big deal.”

  “You fed me twice today,” he pointed out.

  “So? The Chinese was in exchange for information.”

  “Information I would’ve readily given you for free. The food was an afterthought because you were hungry and figured I might be hungry.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “You’re turning into a very sweet provider,” he teased, kissing me as he retrieved the bag.

  “I don’t have to pretend to take an interest,” I warned.

  “You’re not pretending. You might not want to admit it, but you’re growing.”

  “Oh, geez!” I rolled my eyes as I kicked off my shoes. “Are you trying to torture me for a specific reason?”

  “Nope. Come on. Let’s eat at the kitchen table.”

  That sounded a bit formal, but since we were eating messy pasta I didn’t want to risk getting sauce on the new furniture. Wait … did I just think that? Since when do I care about keeping furniture clean? Ugh. I really am growing up. I hate it.

  “I got three entrees: shrimp portofino, pasta di mare and shrimp scampi.”

  “I’m sensing a seafood theme.”

  “Yeah, I was in the mood for shrimp and scallops,” I admitted. “I also got bread, stuffed mushrooms and tiramisu.”

  “I see you went all out. Any special reason?” He collected forks from the drawer as I doled out the entrée containers. No matter how mature I was feeling, I had no intention of washing dishes if it was unnecessary. The to-go containers would suffice.

  “Fish called me into a conference room. Ludington lodged a complaint about me this afternoon.”

  “Doesn’t that happen on a weekly basis?”

  “Yeah, but this time he outsmarted me. I was distracted by the protest when he approached. He got me to say out loud that I had no intention of allowing him to win the election. Luckily he didn’t think ahead to record me. He’ll try a second time.”

  “Then be careful. Don’t say anything he can use against you.”

  “I didn’t plan to do that this go-around,” I admitted. “I have to watch myself.”

  “You’re more than capable of doing that. We’ll handle Ludington. It won’t be that hard to get him to show his true colors before the election. We need to focus on this first.”

  “I thought maybe we could sit down together and hash out Crawford’s family tree tonight. I mean … if you don’t have something else going on.”

  “You want me to work on a story with you?”

  “You’ve helped before.”

  “You rarely invite me. Usually I have to elbow my way in.”

  “I’m growing. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “You’re definitely growing.” He spun his pasta around his fork and gave me a wink. “We’ll work together. Hey, maybe we’ll even come up with a name for our team. How do you feel about Elery? You know, Eliot and Avery combined.”

  Oh, now he was just messing with me. “That’s a stupid name. I hate names like that. And, by the way, if we were going to do that, it would be Aviot because my name should most definitely be first.”

  “We’ll have to argue about that later.”

  “I’ll add it to my schedule.”

  I CHANGED into stretchy yoga pants so I could breathe – I ate enough for two, so it was warranted – and settled on the floor in the great room. Eliot changed into boxers and a T-shirt, and joined me.

  “Okay, tell me what we’re doing here,” he said when I started writing names on sheets of paper and arranging them on the floor.

  “Dan Crawford has a very convoluted family tree,” I replied. “His father is John.” I wrote the man’s name on the sheet of paper and marked him as alive. “His mother is Mary.” She got her own sheet of paper that indicated she was dead. I placed them at the edge of the carpet.

  “He was an only child, which meant he got most of their attention,” I continued.

  “Why is that important?” Eliot leaned against the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. “You were an only child, too. You got most of your parents’ attention.”

  “Actually, my mother was an equal opportunity busybody,” I countered. “She spread the attention around.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I filled out three sheets of paper. “Dan’s first wife was Fiona. She’s in Florida. If she arranged for his death, she did it from afar.”

  “I’m guessing you’re not leaning toward her,” Eliot surmised. “From a motive standpoint, she simply doesn’t make sense. She’s been free from him for a very long time. There’s no financial gain. She married someone else and her children appear to have escaped relatively unscathed.”

  “I like that you can pay attention and I don’t have to explain things to you multiple times,” I teased. “It would be a shame to waste your good looks on an empty head.”

  He poked my side. “I’m going to have a T-shirt made up saying just that.”

  “I think that’s a marvelous idea.” I turned back to my project. “The second wife is Jenny. She was in college when they met. He was her professor. She denies he was predatory, but it’s c
lear he exerted control over her. She is remarried and making out with a guy from your gun range, which is mega-suspicious.”

  Eliot sighed. “I don’t find it as mega-suspicious as you do.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree.” I placed another sheet of paper on the floor. “Then we have Lily, an idiot who admits she married him for money. I don’t think she has the brains to pull this off, but idiocy can make for dangerous enemies.”

  “What would her motive be?” Eliot asked, getting into the spirit of the conversation. “She was barely married to him. She probably got next to nothing in the divorce. If he didn’t learn something about pre-nuptial agreements after two failed marriages, he had more problems than we initially realized.”

  “Can you find that out for me?”

  He nodded. “Yup. I’ll pull documents on all three marriages tomorrow. I agree it can’t hurt to look.”

  “Thanks. What I meant about her being dangerous is that she’s stupid enough to think she’ll inherit in the event of his death simply because she was the most recent wife. She probably doesn’t realize the money will go to his children unless he drew up a will that stipulates otherwise.”

  “I guess, but that seems unlikely.”

  I grabbed three more sheets of paper. “He had two children with Fiona – Doug and Laura. Doug lives here and works for the county road commission. He has a sensible job with regular hours, and the only thing on his record is a parking ticket.”

  “I see you’ve already done some digging. Did he pique your suspicions?”

  “Not exactly.” I wasn’t sure how to explain what I felt when discussing Dan’s death with his son. “I felt bad for him. I understood what he was feeling.”

  “And what was that?”

  “He felt guilty because he didn’t feel worse about his father’s death. He wasn’t close to the man, knew he was unstable, and yet it was his father. He looked a little lost.”

  “You rarely feel bad for people. This is real growth.”

  “Don’t push things.” I placed a sheet of paper next to the one depicting Doug’s name. “Laura is his sister. She lives in Florida to be close to their mother. As far as I can tell, she had almost a non-existent relationship with her father after the divorce. Doug told me that his mother’s breaking point came when Dan tried explaining to his daughter how girls were supposed to act.”

 

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