Despite his promise to Will, Derek saw no alternative but to admit the real story. “Your dad intends to resign rather than keep putting you through the wringer,” he explained. “I’m asking you to help me identify the suspect by clearing the person your father blames—Borrego. When Tracy brings me some other tale, we can be certain she didn’t hear it from Vince.”
Ben’s irate expression boded ill. If he refused to cooperate or, worse, called Tracy with the truth, he could destroy the whole plan.
“I hate lying,” he said.
“Don’t you want to find out who framed you?” Seeking further ammunition, Derek added, “We still don’t know who set fire to your apartment and planted drugs there, as well. People assume that was part of Norm Kinsey’s revenge scenario, but there’s a strong possibility they’re wrong.” Kinsey had denied any knowledge of the fire shortly before dying of a heart attack.
“It certainly wasn’t Vince!” the boy snapped.
“Then help me nail the real culprit.”
Ben blew out an angry breath. “I gotta think about it.”
“Now or never.” Derek pressed home the point. “After this weekend, the guilty party escapes and your dad suffers a loss he doesn’t deserve.”
Unwillingly: “Yeah, okay. What should I say?”
This was the hard part. “Tell him that although you didn’t leave the drugs in your father’s car, he found out that you did smoke a joint at a friend’s house. Now he insists on asking the D.A. to press charges.” Derek braced for an outburst.
He got one. “Absolutely not! I’m clean!” More calmly, Ben appended, “I take regular drug tests at my pizza-delivery job, so I can prove it.”
“Excellent. If he should repeat this nonsense to Tracy, we’ll rebut it.”
“He won’t! And Vince’ll be really disappointed about me supposedly smoking dope.” Slowly, the young man concluded, “I guess he’ll forgive me when I explain why I did this.”
“He ought to appreciate your clearing him.” Derek wouldn’t bet on that, though. He still considered Vince the most likely instigator of the force’s ongoing problems.
Ben lifted his chin. “When should I tell him?”
“No later than tomorrow. And please don’t talk to anyone else about any of this.”
“Okay.”
Chalk up one of the three rumors, assuming Ben kept his word. Relieved, Derek strolled into the building to retrieve his copy of the math textbook.
Today’s tutoring session had gone well. With Tom cooperating, they’d worked through a couple of difficult concepts, and chatted later about events at school. Strange to recall that his original motive for volunteering had been to snoop.
“Glad you’re still here.” Yolanda waved Derek into her office and opened her desk drawer. “I’ve been meaning to give you this.” She handed him a plastic bag containing a man’s watch. On closer inspection, he saw that the leather wristband was broken.
“Not mine, I’m afraid.” He attempted to hand it back.
The older woman waved away the attempt. “I discovered it beneath a heap of old leaves while pruning my bushes. My dog, Furball, has a tendency to bury things, so I’m pretty sure he’s responsible. However, I generally keep him on a leash.”
Derek regarded her patiently. “I’m sure there’s a reason you’ve brought this to my attention.”
“The last time he got loose was last June, on the day of the fire.” She let the significance sink in.
“You speculate that the mystery man dropped it.” As Derek recalled, Yolanda had reported glimpsing an adult male on the premises shortly before the blaze. She hadn’t seen him clearly enough to provide more than a general description. “I hate to be a spoiler, but there are lots of animals that could have buried the watch. A stray dog or a raccoon, for instance, or your pooch during a previous escape.”
“Finding this jogged my memory,” she replied calmly. “When I tried to catch Furball the day of the fire, he was carrying a shiny object. He got away, and I didn’t catch him for another ten or fifteen minutes. With all the excitement, the matter flew out of my mind. If I’d thought about his treasure at all, I’d have assumed it was a piece of junk.”
Derek took a closer look. An expensive watch. Normally, one would expect the owner to notify Yolanda if he believed he’d lost it on her property. “Did you check with your neighbors?”
“No one’s missing such an item.” Briskly, she concluded, “Of course, one of the firefighters might have dropped it.”
“I’ll inquire.” Derek tucked the plastic bag into his pocket to pass to Andie O’Reilly at the fire department. “There’s always a chance it’ll turn out to be important.”
“I’d love for you folks to nail the culprit. Two people nearly died that day. And I spent months arranging to collect the insurance and get the place repaired.” More gently, Yolanda asked, “How are you and Marta getting along?”
“We’re coping.” That sounded abrupt, so Derek added, “She’s a wonderful person.”
“As are you.” With that unexpected statement, she retrieved the phone from her pocket. “Vibrating,” she noted, and answered the call.
Derek went to fetch the math book. Afterward, in daylight, he examined the watch again, hoping for a break—an inscription, perhaps. But it simply appeared to be a good-quality watch such as one might buy in any number of stores.
What might have been a lucky break didn’t appear likely to save the day. His plan had better work, for his sake as well as the chief’s.
By breaking his promise of secrecy and by deceiving other officers right down to one of his best friends, Derek was staking every chip he owned on a very long shot.
Chapter Sixteen
A police thriller might not be Marta’s favorite type of movie, but she had to admit that Derek’s choice proved entertaining. Afterward, they bought ice-cream cones at In a Pickle and sat on a bench inside the mall.
A perfect outing, until Derek said, “If this situation at work blows up in my face, I’ve decided to get the hell out of Dodge.”
Marta’s heart went bump. “Really?”
“Yeah. I always wanted to travel. My grandparents’ influence, I guess,” he explained. “I ought to do it while I’m still able.”
She watched a couple sorting through embroidered pillows at a boutique across the corridor. “You mean a vacation?”
“I mean indefinitely. After you give birth, of course. If you’re serious about adoption, you won’t need me after that.”
Marta’s ice cream lost its flavor. Villazon without Derek. She couldn’t imagine it. “Where—where would you go?” she stammered.
“Maybe Australia. Japan. China and Russia. Then on into Europe. One last hurrah.” Derek shifted position to let a group of teenage girls saunter past. “Since the diagnosis, I’ve been hanging on to my savings, hiding out and waiting for decrepitude like an old man. I’d rather blow the whole wad, maybe sell my condo, instead. With real-estate prices so high, I could live on the revenue for ages.”
“But you’d be alone!” She didn’t dare say what she truly meant. You can’t leave. I’ll always need you.
“I function best alone.” Perhaps to temper the harshness of his words, Derek said, “I feel better around you than with any other person I’ve met. But, Marta, I’m a dark soul and you’re a bright spirit. I’d drain your happiness.”
An insight struck her. “You don’t believe anyone could really love you, do you?”
Done with his cone, he tossed the wrapper into a trash bin. “If they did, I’d kill their feelings day by day. Best to exit with panache.”
“Coward,” she accused.
He looked startled. “We all define courage differently, I guess.”
She had no reply for that.
Derek changed the subject or, rather, returned to the topic that had obviously been on his mind: the attempt to smoke out Tracy’s source. “I played pool with Joel last night, which seemed like the perfect opportun
ity to plant my story. I told him the chief is reopening the investigation into Vince’s past activities to see if anything was overlooked.”
Marta forced herself to refocus. “How’d he react?”
“He got a little annoyed. Basically, he thinks we should leave old scandals alone, a view I happen to agree with. It’ll be interesting to see whether he repeats the tale to Ms. Johnson.” Derek indicated her half-eaten cone. “Ready to go? You can finish that in the car.”
“Lost my appetite.” She disposed of the remnant, which was probably the only time in Marta’s life she’d discarded ice cream.
At her apartment, she and Derek shared a long, sweet kiss marred by the aching knowledge that he might soon vanish from her world. The possibility of losing him to extensive travels hurt so much that Marta withdrew.
“You okay?” he asked when she stepped away.
She attempted to cover her reaction. “Just my hormones running wild.”
Derek ruffled her hair and regarded her worriedly, but accepted her comment at face value. After a few more reassurances, he left.
Marta selected a novel to read and went into the bedroom. When her eyes continued to slide uselessly over the words, she leaned against the pillows and wondered whether anyone would ever break through the shell around Derek’s heart.
The phone rang. She reached for it. “Hello?”
Her father’s gravelly tone rasped through the wire. “Your aunt Anna tells me you’re pregnant,” he said without preamble. “Twins, according to her.”
Amidst the recent turmoil, Marta hadn’t considered that Connie might confide in her mother and that word would spread. “That’s right,” she confirmed. “Before you ask, I’m not married and don’t plan to be.”
She didn’t mention the probability of adoption, because it was none of her dad’s business. Harry Lawson had long ago severed any intimate connection between them.
“Being the last to learn about my grandchildren puts me in an embarrassing position,” he grumped.
Instinctively, Marta started to apologize. But for what? “You shouldn’t be surprised if I don’t confide in you,” she said.
A short silence greeted this bluntness. Then: “If you expect Bryn and me to pay your bills, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Her father’s nerve astounded her. Marta’s temper, already stretched thin, finally broke.
“You refused to help when the doctors told me I wasn’t ready to work, so I got a job even though I ached constantly,” she reminded him. “You didn’t care that I had to drop out of college and couldn’t become a teacher, but no thanks to you I’m taking classes again. My expectations from you are what you’ve taught me to count on—a big fat zero.”
The outburst astonished her. She hadn’t been aware that she held so much resentment.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” His voice dripped with disapproval.
Although she hadn’t intended to open a breach, Marta refused to ease off. Instead, she concluded, “In case I don’t see you before then, Merry Christmas. I’m sure I’ll receive my usual gift.”
Since her father didn’t believe in giving presents to adult children, those had ended when she turned eighteen. For a couple of seasons, Marta had baked him a holiday batch of his favorite cookies. She’d quit after the accident.
“Merry Christmas,” he muttered in response, and hung up.
How lucky that she planned to spend the holidays with Derek and his family, Marta mused. But no one could replace her parents.
She wished she knew how to bridge the gap. That responsibility, however, lay with the man who’d created it.
*
By ten o’clock Monday morning, Tracy still hadn’t contacted Derek. Apparently she’d heard neither of the rumors he’d spread so far.
He prepared to drop the last tall tale in Justin’s ear. When he stopped by the traffic division, however, he found the lieutenant’s office empty. As Derek turned to go, he ran into Sergeant Rohan.
Mark proudly announced his engagement to Rosa Mercato. “Some folks think we’re rushing this, but you and Marta are two lengths ahead,” he kidded. “Double trouble! Well done.”
“Same to you.” Derek added a few more congratulatory words before asking, “Any idea where Justin is?”
“He’s at the dentist. Probably for another hour.”
“Thanks.”
Next stop: the detective bureau, since Derek routinely touched base with division leaders on Mondays. He hated it when the press blindsided him with inquiries about a development that hadn’t made the morning report.
Captain Ferguson greeted him jovially. “I understand Marta reaped extra benefits from the bachelor auction. Picked out names yet?”
Derek framed a noncommittal answer. “We’re still deciding.” He moved on quickly. “Got anything for me?”
Frank cited a couple of twists in ongoing investigations. Nothing earthshaking. Derek was making notes when his watch beeped. Or at least he thought it was his watch. He looked up to see the captain tapping his own wrist. “I’ve got an appointment with a sales rep at the shooting range. Testing a new type of body armor the chief asked me to look into.”
Frank’s timepiece appeared similar to Derek’s. “New watch?”
“Yep. You inspired me.” Frank replaced the files he’d riffled through. “The alarm sure comes in handy.”
“I know what you mean.”
Something teased at the depths of Derek’s mind. A new watch. What happened to Frank’s old one?
Probably sheer coincidence. But a good detective, even a former one, didn’t trust coincidences.
Before the captain could vanish out the door, Derek yielded to his gut instinct. “Has the chief talked to you yet?”
The older man paused. “Regarding?”
Out popped the story he’d prepared for Justin Lindeman. “He got some bad news from the doctor on Friday.” A pretense of dismay. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“What kind of bad news?” Frank pressed.
“Heart problem.” Derek shrugged. “I discouraged him from issuing a press release. None of the public’s business, and truthfully, I believe he needs to project an image of strength. Particularly now.”
“The doctors can treat that stuff with medication these days,” Frank said. “Let’s hope he’s okay.”
“If he brings it up, act surprised.” As if the chief were likely to mention a heart problem that didn’t exist!
“You bet.”
On the way to his office, Derek felt like kicking himself. He’d wasted his last rumor and lied to Will’s right-hand man, to boot.
This threatened to be a very disappointing and possibly disastrous day.
*
Marta’s father called shortly before noon. “Bryn and I discussed what you said,” he told her.
“You did?” Holding the cell phone to one ear, she peered through a blur of holiday ornaments toward the hospital’s entrance, where a tall man had entered. Not Derek, to her disappointment.
“We’re excited about becoming grandparents. Especially my wife. She regrets never having children.”
Marta had assumed her stylish stepmother was childless by choice. “She does?”
“She married late and then…well, starting over as a father didn’t interest me,” Harry admitted. “I try to make her happy, but I’m no wiz at understanding women. Guess I don’t have to tell you that.”
The rueful tone was unlike his usual curtness. “What exactly did you have in mind?” she asked cautiously.
He cleared his throat. “We’d like to set up a college fund for the children.”
Marta supposed she ought to feel grateful. Under the circumstances, though, the sudden show of concern proved painful. “Dad, I can’t keep these babies. Being a single mom with one child might be doable, but not two.”
A slight tremor underscored his response. “This young man of yours isn’t husband material?”
S
he sought diplomatic phrasing. “He has his share of problems.”
“We might be able to…do more.” Her father clearly struggled with the offer.
Marta’s mood softened. “I appreciate that, Dad. But this is too big a responsibility for me to depend on you or Bryn. These children need a stable home and parents. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” With a sigh, he added, “Too little too late from me, huh?”
“Not too late to start being friends again,” she suggested.
“How about we drop over on Christmas Eve? I’ve never visited your apartment.” Although he and Bryn had made the twenty-mile drive from Irvine for Connie’s wedding, they might have lived across the continent for all Marta saw of them.
“That would be wonderful.”
She hung up in a better mood than before. A reconciliation just in time for Christmas
*
Derek ate a sandwich at his desk and accidentally dribbled mustard on the chief’s letter of resignation, which he was revising as slowly as possible. Well, it had to be printed out again, anyway, for Will’s meeting with the mayor and city manager.
He’d invented a fourth rumor to spring on Justin, but the man had barely ducked into the building before departing for a meeting of the city traffic commission. Besides, with half his face numb, he’d been in no mood for chitchat.
Derek had to concede that he’d failed. His grand scheme had yielded zero results, and in the process he’d probably alienated a close friend as well as a superior.
Why had he bothered involving Frank? True, the man had applied for the chief’s position two years ago, but he hadn’t appeared to mind losing out. “Too much politics” had been his comment.
Also, the owner of the lost watch had likely set a near-fatal blaze. Derek couldn’t picture the man he’d worked with for more than a decade as a criminal. He still hadn’t transferred the watch to Andie’s custody. Better take care of that now. With a baleful glare at the silent phone, he rose to his feet.
It rang.
“Hallelujah,” he mumbled sarcastically, and answered. “Reed.”
“This is Tracy Johnson” came the reply.
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