“Slow down.” He shut the door behind them and searched for his phone. Spotting it on the kitchen island, he swung onto a stool and picked it up. “I need to call Rob first.” Without waiting for Cliff’s response, he hit Speed Dial.
“What’s up?”
He sensed the alertness in Rob’s voice. “I came home, and Cliff told me one of my neighbors, the ignorant asshole across the street, had said some things that got me thinking I needed to talk to him.”
“Go on. What’d you find out?”
“He’s not as dumb as I thought, but I did see that same tattoo on his back.”
Rob sucked in his breath. “The Iron Cross and skull?”
“Yeah. And when I asked him where he was last night, he said he was home, watching the ball game. Even gave me the score, but it was like he was ready. Almost like he expected the questions and had answers prepared.”
“And you’re suspicious.”
Across the kitchen island, Cliff gazed at him anxiously.
“I’m always suspicious when the people I love are threatened. He came by when he knew I wasn’t here, and I’m worried there may come a time when he’s going to take that next step and I won’t be here to protect Cliff.”
“Paul.” Visibly annoyed, Cliff frowned, but Paul held up a hand to keep talking, ignoring Cliff’s glowering expression.
“Listen, I want to push them on those street cameras tomorrow when we’re at the station. They have to show something.”
“I’ll be in by eight.”
“Same.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
He disconnected and faced Cliff. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? First of all, you’re talking about me like I’m not even here. And second, I’m not sure why, again, you think you need to protect me. I thought we had this discussion. I’m not a child or someone weak, in need of being looked after.”
Paul circled around the counter to take Cliff by the hand, and led him to the living room, where they sat on the couch, facing each other. “Look. It’s my nature. It’s why I became a cop in the first place. I wanted to protect the people I love. I lost the chance to do it for Harley…I failed him miserably. I won’t lose you.”
“You’re not going to.”
“You can’t guarantee that. Our window’s been shot out, and now you tell me that Travis came over and made sexually suggestive comments. He’s a dangerous piece of shit, Cliff. I don’t want you to take this as a joke.”
“I don’t. But I’m not afraid of Travis. He’s an ignorant oaf. I can handle him.”
“But—”
Cliff cut him off. “No. Now let’s have dinner and take a shower. Then, if you want to play big tough cop and protect me from some big bad criminal, maybe I’ll let you.”
Cliff’s eyes twinkled, and Paul, imagining the night ahead, allowed his attention to be diverted to pleasure instead of business.
“Then let the night begin, and I’ll leave the business where it belongs. At the office.”
Paul joined Cliff’s smile, but he knew he was offering false hope. There was no way he could separate the two.
* * *
The next morning, Paul and Rob reviewed the footage from the city camera. “It was dark out,” Paul said, “so the quality of the video is not the best, but we do have a shot of every car and every person walking on that block.”
They sat at their desks, glued to the computer monitor, playing the film in slow motion, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Aware that the first call came in at 11:10 p.m., they concentrated on the time period starting half an hour earlier.
“Let’s slow it down one more step,” Rob said.
Main Street was a relatively busy strip in Thornwood Park during daytime hours, but after eight, the only businesses open were the two restaurants and the Wild Orchid club. It made for less foot traffic, so they were able to isolate each car and truck passing by, but none slowed down. They couldn’t get a direct shot of the entrance of the Wild Orchid, but Paul made a mental note of each person walking by.
“Look.” Rob slowed the tape. “Those two.”
Riveted, Paul nodded. “Yeah.” His pulse quickened.
They sat in silence, watching two men meandering across the street, opposite where they estimated the Wild Orchid’s entrance to be. Though the night was warm, they wore dark sweat shirts with the hoods up, bandanas over their noses. The men stopped, and as he and Rob watched, they raced across the street, each lobbing something in the air. Then they ran to the street, where a vehicle halted. Both men jumped into the back seat, and the door swung closed as the vehicle sped off.
Paul stopped the footage, and he and Rob stared at each other. “That’s it. That’s them.” He gripped the computer mouse. “Those are the bastards who killed Shelby.”
“Let’s rewind and stop so we can get some close-ups and see if we can manage to identify any distinguishing features.”
Putting his rage aside, Paul replayed the several seconds of video. The problem was, when they zoomed in, the clarity was lost.
“Bastards knew what they were doing by covering their faces.”
“But now we have a vehicle, at least,” Rob said. “So we can work from that.”
His pulse spiked higher. “Yeah. Let’s get the plate.” He picked up the mouse and fast-forwarded.
But upon reviewing the grainy footage, once again they were thwarted.
“Son of a bitch,” Paul growled, throwing his pen across the desk. “They planned this to a tee.”
The vehicle, a dark color, had its license plate covered, making it impossible to identify. The best they had to go on now was purely visual, so he and Rob paused the footage and went over every inch of it to pick up any recognizable characteristics.
Paul turned off the screen. “Want a coffee? I need something to concentrate.”
“Yeah, definitely.”
Paul retrieved two cups from the machine, and when he returned to their space, he found a chocolate doughnut waiting.
“Don’t give me shit, Paulie.” Rob had his own, a Boston cream, in hand. “All work and no sweets makes Paulie a dull boy. Everyone needs a little treat every now and then.”
“Not gonna give you any flak. Thanks.”
He took a bite and sipped his coffee. The sugar melted on his tongue, tasting like nirvana. “Damn, that’s good.” He picked up his notes. “So what I’m seeing is a Tahoe about two years old. Dark, so maybe gray, black, or green. We’ll check the models to see what colors they come in.”
“We can send the photo out and have them zoom in with more sophisticated equipment to see if they get a clearer picture.”
“I’ll call Manny and have his team reach out to the state and see what they can do for us.” Paul finished his doughnut. “In the meantime, I think we should go to Moonshine Liquors.”
Rob raised a brow. “Feeling thirsty?” He snickered.
“You know, your jokes are getting worse every day. And no, of course not.” He finished his coffee and tossed the empty cup into the trash. “But supposedly, my charming neighbor was in there at one point with his buddies, bragging about how he was going to be coming into some money. I’d like to talk to the staff there.”
“I’m ready.” Rob licked his fingers. “Let’s do it.”
Moonshine Liquors was located a few miles from where Paul and Cliff lived, in a decrepit strip mall off the interstate. It was surrounded by a nail salon, a fast-food fried-chicken place, a check-cashing store, and a dollar outlet, with the remainder of the tenants out of business. When Paul and Rob walked inside, they saw two older people, one male, one female, sitting on a platform behind bulletproof glass protecting them and the register. Several people walked around, shopping in the aisles. The two workers gave them an unfriendly side-eye.
With Rob at his side, Paul approached the register and showed his badge. “I’m Detective Monroe, and this is my partner, Detective Gormley. We’d like to ask you some questions.�
�
Relief crossed their faces. The woman, an elderly lady with carefully curled hair, spoke first. “Hello, Detectives. We usually deal with regulars, so when you walked in, we weren’t sure what to expect.”
“Understood. We’re investigating a string of break-ins and robberies. Have you had any problems out here lately?”
“No,” the man said. “Nothing at all. Just business as usual.”
Paul persisted. “Have you heard anyone talking about coming into money?”
Rob added, “What about regular customers buying more than usual, or more expensive brands than normal?”
The woman nodded. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I have.”
“Please tell us.”
She left her perch behind the register to join them on the sales floor and pointed to the back of the store. “In there. I don’t need none of the busybodies listening.”
Amused, Paul and Rob shared a grin and followed her to the rear of the store, through a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Inside the cramped room, an old-fashioned soda machine sat in the corner, and a small table and four chairs took up the rest of the space.
“Sit, sit. I’d offer you a drink, but I doubt you’d take me up on it.”
Paul liked her blunt manner. “Thank you.” He and Rob followed her directive, and she took a seat across from them. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Dorothy Hammond.”
“Thank you, Ms. Hammond. And you work here or own the store?” He opened his notepad, as did Rob.
“My husband, Harvey, and I own the store. That’s him up front.”
“And you’re here how long?”
“Twenty-nine years. We were here when there was a dirt road behind here, instead of a corporate park. But we make our way.”
“And you have regular customers, I’m sure,” Rob said. “Ones who come in once a week or so?”
“Honey, I’ve got regulars who come in every day.” Her pink lips cracked a smile. “I’d say it was for the lottery tickets, but they always buy a fifth of something too.”
Paul grinned. “Well, a business has to do what it can.” He tapped his pad with his pen. “Getting back to what you said before. You stated you heard someone talking about coming into money?”
“Yes, I did. I don’t usually listen in on my customers’ conversations. But these particular fellas were too rowdy for my taste, so I had to ask them to settle down. Afterward, I heard one of them saying, ‘Things go according to plan, we’ll be set for money. Won’t need to come to this crummy place no more.’ ”
“And when was this?”
“About a week and a half ago.”
He and Rob shared a look. That was around the time the break-ins and the jewelry store robbery occurred.
“I see. And have you seen them since? How many of them were there?”
“There were three. All good-for-nothings, none with steady jobs or anything.” The withering expression on her face told all.
“You know them personally?”
“No, but if someone comes to a liquor store during the day, any day, to buy beer or a bottle of cheap whiskey, I’m going to assume they’re not working.”
“That’s some good deductive reasoning, Mrs. Hammond. Thornwood Park PD could use you.”
A truly delighted smile broke across her face, and she chuckled. “That would be a story to tell.”
“Can you tell us what they looked like?”
She tapped a pink-tipped nail on the table. “Lemme see. One was tall and skinny with a bushy beard. Long, dark hair and a biggish nose. He had tattoos all up and down his arms and hands. Another is a short fella, always wearing overalls that I’ve seen him. He’s kinda chunky and bald. Mean-looking. Chews tobacco, and lemme tell you, I almost kicked his butt when he spit in my store. I told him he either cleans it up, or I’m gonna make him lick that nasty stuff off the floor.”
The outrage on her face was priceless, and Paul had to press his lips together to keep from laughing. He dared a peek at Rob to see his partner’s mouth twitching.
“You’re amazing, Dorothy. How about the third guy?”
Her eyes lit up, and Paul could see she enjoyed the attention and playing an important role in an investigation.
“Well, let me think. The last one’s kind of a big, weightlifter type but with a beer belly.” She chuckled. “I’d know, since he’s one of them who was always coming in buying two or three six-packs at a time. He was the one who said he was coming into money soon.”
Paul’s heartbeat raced. “Tell us more.”
She nodded. “He’s the one to do the bragging. Talking about how many young ladies he’s had relations with and how many fights he’s gotten into. He’s got a filthy mouth and talks bad about certain people.”
“What do you mean, Dorothy? Certain people? Names or…”
Her frown accentuated the lines in her face. “I been living here all my life, and I seen the change. I think it’s a good thing. Some people don’t want anyone who’s different than them around. Different skin color, different faiths…gay and things like that. I like knowing people from all over and learning. If I don’t listen and learn and turn my head instead, am I any better than the people who say those things?”
“Do you recall what he said?”
Her cheeks tinged pink under her makeup. “He was awful. He said Thornwood Park was better before we started letting in all the half-breeds, queers, and Christ-killers. How they’ve all ruined Thornwood Park for the decent white folk and that they were bringing down property values. He was bragging how he was gonna love getting rid of them even if he had to pick them off one by one.” Her eyes flashed. “I don’t allow that kind of talk in front of me. They want to talk like that, they can take their money and spend it elsewhere.”
Paul and Rob wrote everything she said in silence. Would it ever end? Paul wondered. When would all the hate end and people be left to live their lives in peace?
“Do you know any of their names?” he asked her quietly. “You’ve been a great help.”
“I’ve heard them call each other nicknames, so I don’t know what’s real or not.”
“Of course. Anything you can give us is so helpful.”
She’d taken out a tissue from her pocket and wiped at her eyes. “The bald one was called Bear; the tall, skinny guy was Wellie; and the man with the foul mouth, they called him Trav.”
Paul gripped his pen so hard, it tore into the paper of his notepad. Breathing in deep, he shut his eyes for a brief moment to regain control, but even after he reopened them, anger shimmered at the edges of his vision.
Rob, perhaps sensing his turmoil, took over. “Dorothy, you’ve been incredibly helpful. I have my card here, and Detective Monroe will give you his, so if you think of anything else, please call us anytime. And if they happen to come in again and you don’t feel safe, you can always call us.”
Her eyes danced. “Oh, no need to worry. Mr. Hammond keeps a shotgun behind him.”
Finished with the interview, Paul and Rob walked out to the front of the store, where Mr. Hammond was ringing up a customer. As they passed, Paul peered behind the shop owner, and sure enough, there was the shotgun, just as Dorothy had stated.
He and Rob stood by the car, and Paul raised his face to the sun, needing the warmth on his face. “It seems I’ll need to pay another visit to my neighbor.”
“And this time you’re not doing it alone.”
Paul slid his sunglasses down to cover his eyes. “Let’s do it, then.”
Chapter Twelve
All morning and halfway into the afternoon, Cliff sat at his desk, but his mind wandered from the tasks at hand. He found it next to impossible to concentrate on his work. A man he cared about had died, his best friend was devastated, Paul was involved in a potentially dangerous investigation, and their quiet, sleepy little suburb might be harboring a burgeoning hate-crime group.
He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. The weekend he and Paul had spen
t by the beach several months earlier seemed like a lifetime ago, and Cliff wanted that carefree time back, when all they had to worry about was making sure they didn’t get too much sun.
At the knock on his door, he rubbed his eyes and straightened his tie. “Come in.”
Ryan stuck his head inside. “Got time for me? Preston said it was okay.”
“Yeah, he’s seen you often enough here.” He jumped up from behind the desk and ran to hug Ryan. “That plus your uniform will do it every time.”
Ryan clung to him, then let go and took a seat in the chair in front of his desk. Cliff took the one next to it and faced his best friend.
“How’re you doing? Any word from Shelby’s parents on the funeral?”
For the first time since that night a little bit of light brightened Ryan’s eyes. “Not from his parents, no. But his sister emailed me and told me when the funeral was going to be. So I’m taking a few days off to go there. Brianna said I could stay with her. I’m not going to show up at the service because I don’t want to cause upset at Shelby’s funeral. But afterward, at least I’ll know and I can visit him.”
“I’m glad, Ry. I think that’s best.”
“I have to be satisfied, you know?” He blinked rapidly. “It’s more than I could hope for.” They sat in silence. “But I really came here to tell you that you were right.”
Cliff’s heart jumped. “About what?” Even though he knew.
“Shelby and me. We…we were getting serious but wanted to keep it to ourselves in the beginning.”
“I understand.”
“I figured you, of anyone I knew, would. Especially since I wasn’t even sure what it was I felt. I’m still not sure. Neither of us thought about being a couple, and maybe that’s why it worked so well. It was natural, you know? Everything about our friendship was easy. Shelby was like no one else I ever knew.”
“Tell me about him.” Cliff had a hundred things to get to on his to-do list, from returning vendors’ phone calls to checking contracts. Yet he didn’t hesitate to shut that all down and sit with his best friend to reminisce about a man he loved.
“His heart was as big as his smile, and we had fun together. We had the same interests, and he was like me—he liked living on the edge and taking chances.”
Death Comes to Main Street (The Paul Monroe Mysteries Book 3) Page 10