Crime Seen

by Victoria Laurie

  ‘‘How dangerous is this?’’ I asked her, knowing the answer.

  ‘‘Very,’’ she said. ‘‘So if you want to stop, we need to do it right now.’’

  So there it was. I could step out onto the curb and know that a bus might come along and flatten me, or I could stay in the safety of the little padded room I’d created for myself. I was shaking inside. There’s nothing like a near-death experience to make you want to take the safe route for the rest of your life, but the part of my personality that had always pushed me to do things that I wasn’t comfortable with was yelling at me to get in there and start digging. ‘‘No,’’ I said. ‘‘We move forward. I’ll fill this out and get it back to you in a few minutes.’’

  I marched into my office, filled out the application, and made up a quick résumé to attach to it, stating ‘‘counselor’’ as my current occupation. I was done in an hour, and gave both to Candice. She looked them over and said, ‘‘Good job, Abs. I’ll get this to Darren this afternoon.’’

  I busied myself the rest of the day with errands and readying my office for the three clients I’d scheduled that evening. They would arrive at six, which left me plenty of time to meet with Lori and take a shower before coming back to the office.

  I walked into the physical therapy building promptly at five to three and found Lori just finishing up with her previous patient. I smiled and took a seat as I waited, watching her with an elderly woman who was trying to bend a knee that looked like it had just seen some surgery.

  Lori stood about an inch taller than me, with chestnut-colored hair that reached her shoulder, brilliant green eyes, and a light, creamy complexion. She was patient, kind, and devoted to everyone who came to her for therapy. When she was done with the elderlywoman, she wheeled her out to the lobby, then turned to me.

  ‘‘How ya feeling?’’ she asked as she picked up a clipboard and began scribbling on it.

  ‘‘Good,’’ I said.

  ‘‘That’s great. How’s the range of motion coming along?’’

  I showed her by extending my right arm straight out and moving it sideways, squinting a little when it was fully extended, perpendicular to my side. Lori nodded. ‘‘Range looks great, but you’ve still got some pain at the farthest points, huh?’’

  ‘‘Yeah. Yesterday I tried doing butterfly curls with weights and thought I’d ripped my chest wide open.’’

  This got another nod from Lori. ‘‘Best to go really slowly with the weights,’’ she said. ‘‘At least until you’ve stretched that tissue out.’’

  ‘‘So I shouldn’t be lifting for a while, then?’’

  Lori smiled. ‘‘On the contrary. It’s the best thing for you. You just need to use very light weights and go nice and slow when you’re making the motions. Here, lie back and I’ll show you.’’

  For the next hour Lori and I went through examples of exercises that I could do with Candice at the gym. All of them seemed to sting, but at least I knew the proper way to work out until I was fully healed.

  ‘‘So when would you like to see me again?’’ I asked as Lori made a few more notes on her clipboard.

  ‘‘Actually, Abby, I think you’re good to go,’’ she said, looking up at me with a wide smile.

  ‘‘Really? I’m done with therapy?’’

  ‘‘Yep,’’ she said, getting up to walk me to the front. ‘‘You have full range of motion, and the stiffness will eventually go away. I’ve monitored all your cardiovascular levels since your surgery, and they’re all stable and at normal levels. You seem to have healed really well. So the rest you can do on your own.’’

  A mix of emotions washed over me as we hit the lobby. Part of me was relieved I didn’t have to drive across town once a week to be put through some pretty difficult paces, but there was also a part of me that felt like a bird hovering on the edge of the nest, while its mother nudged it to take off. ‘‘Thanks for all your help, Lori,’’ I said, and gave her a hug.

  ‘‘My pleasure, Abby. And tell your sister I said thank you for the bath salts. I got those in the mail yesterday.’’

  ‘‘You do realize she’s been bribing you, don’t you?’’

  Lori laughed. ‘‘Of course,’’ she said. ‘‘But it’s taken her focus off of all the other people involved in your recovery. Talking to me lets your sister feel like someone’s looking out for you and filling her in on your progress. And that way she leaves Dutch, your doctors, and your other friends alone. Am I right?’’

  I grinned. Lori was smarter than I thought. ‘‘For the most part,’’ I said.

  I left the physical therapy office and went back to Dutch’s to take a shower, then returned to my office. As I was unlocking my door I could hear the phone ringing inside the suite. I left the keys in the door as I rushed to answer it before it went to voice mail.

  ‘‘Abby Cooper,’’ I said.

  ‘‘Hello, Ms. Cooper,’’ chirped a woman’s voice. ‘‘This is Andrea LaChance from Universal Mortgage Corporation. I’ve got your application for employment in front of me, and I was hoping we could get you in for an interview in the next few days or so.’’

  I set my purse down, swung around to the chair behind my desk, and pulled my desk calendar close. ‘‘I’m pretty open next week,’’ I said.

  ‘‘I have a two thirty available Monday afternoon. Would that work for you?’’

  ‘‘Works fine, Andrea,’’ I said and made the notation. ‘‘You guys are over on Old Woodward Avenue, in Birmingham, right?’’

  ‘‘Yes, six seventy-five Old Woodward.’’

  ‘‘Great. Shall I ask for you?’’

  ‘‘No, you’ll be meeting directly with our owner, Mr. Wolfe.’’ I sucked in a surprised breath. I hadn’t expected to do the meet and greet with the big nasty guy right off the bat. ‘‘Is something wrong?’’ Andrea asked me.

  ‘‘No,’’ I said quickly. ‘‘I just gave myself a paper cut. I’ll see Mr. Wolfe at two thirty Monday, then.’’

  I clicked off with Andrea and immediately called Candice. ‘‘Hey, Abs,’’ she said happily into the phone when she answered. I could hear what sounded like restaurant noise in the background. ‘‘I’m having drinks with the ladies before they come see you. They’re all excited.’’

  ‘‘That’s swell. Listen, I just got a call from Universal Mortgage. They want me to come in for an interview Monday afternoon.’’

  ‘‘Perfect,’’ Candice said.

  ‘‘No,’’ I snapped. ‘‘It’s not perfect, Candice! They want me to meet with Wolfe. He’s my interviewer.’’

  Candice chuckled into the phone. ‘‘Well, who did you think you were going to interview with?’’ she asked me.

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ I said as a little wave of panic swirled uncomfortably in my tummy. ‘‘Some lackey from HR?’’

  ‘‘Abby, relax,’’ she said. ‘‘He’s just a guy. You’re on an interview. Just go in there, tell him about your experience at the bank, and you’ll get the gig.’’

  ‘‘Easy for you to say,’’ I groused.

  ‘‘May I remind you that this is your case?’’

  ‘‘Okay, okay,’’ I said, giving in. ‘‘I hear ya. I just get nervous around murderers.’’

  She chuckled again. ‘‘I will make sure nothing happens to you. Okay?’’

  I grumbled my good-byes and hung up with Candice. After taking some deep breaths, I headed into my reading room and sat down in my new leather chair. My adrenaline was still pumping, but just being in this room seemed to be helping. I glanced at my watch and realized that Candice would be leading the first of her girlfriends back here in a few minutes. I’d need to prepare. I closed my eyes and got into my zone. By the time I heard the light knock on my door, I was much calmer and ready to go.

  The three readings were fantastic. It was like I’d taken a shot of intuitive speed or something. The information I received about the women was strong, detailed, and right on the money. When the last one had left the of
fice, Candice turned to me and beamed. ‘‘They were totally blown away by you,’’ she said.

  I blushed and gave her a wave of my hand. ‘‘It’s what I do.’’

  ‘‘And you were afraid to jump back in,’’ she continued. ‘‘Abby, you’re as good as ever. And those were the right women to blow away. They know everyone,’’ she said. ‘‘Totally hooked in to the community in Kay-zoo.’’

  ‘‘You think many people will make the trip?’’

  ‘‘For you? Definitely,’’ she said.

  I headed back to Dutch’s feeling really good about myself. I’d stepped up to the plate tonight and hit three right out of the park. The old radar wasn’t broken, or even rusty. It had come right back, just as strong as it ever was. As I started up the walk, the front door opened and six feet, two inches of gorgeousness stared out at me. ‘‘Hey there, beautiful,’’ he said.

  ‘‘I could say the same to you,’’ I said as I eased into his arms, giving him a tight squeeze.

  ‘‘How’d your readings go?’’

  ‘‘Really well,’’ I admitted. ‘‘Which was a surprise.’’

  Dutch pulled back to look down at me. ‘‘A surprise?’’

  ‘‘Yeah. After such a long hiatus I figured I’d be pretty rusty.’’

  He took my hand and pulled me inside, where the dining room table was decked out with candles and place settings for two. ‘‘What’s all this?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘A celebration,’’ he said.

  ‘‘What are we celebrating?’’

  ‘‘Your radar.’’

  ‘‘How’d you know the readings would go so well?’’ I asked, turning to him.

  ‘‘I didn’t. Or rather, what I had intended to celebrate wasn’t so much your readings as your impressions on the Goodyear case.’’

  ‘‘You solved it?’’

  ‘‘No,’’ he said, leading me to a chair at the table. ‘‘You did.’’

  ‘‘Huh?’’ I asked as he disappeared into the kitchen.

  Reappearing with two plates of my favorite dish, pork tenderloin over linguini in a delicious lemon cream sauce, he explained, ‘‘Remember you told me to look into the friend of the son?’’

  ‘‘Yeah,’’ I said as he set down my plate.

  ‘‘Turns out that Max and his wife joined a grief counseling group shortly after their son died in seventy-nine. In the group they met another couple, and the four of them became close friends. They even moved next door to each other in the late eighties.’’

  ‘‘Okay,’’ I said, and twirled some pasta onto my fork. ‘‘I’m following you. The couple has a son and Max has taken him under his wing.’’

  ‘‘Not exactly,’’ Dutch said, and I noticed the twinkle in his eye. There was a twist here.

  ‘‘So tell me,’’ I said as I took a bite of pasta. I added a small moan, it was so fabulous.

  ‘‘The couple, Mark and Patricia Hiller, had a son, Jeffrey, who died of crib death the same week as Max’s son. Turns out the boys shared a birthday.’’ I nodded and gave a roll of my hand for Dutch to continue. ‘‘Jeffrey Hiller has a bank account at Goodyear’s bank. Regular deposits have been made in some pretty significant funds, and are later cleared out with checks to a guy who’s a known bookie here in Royal Oak.’’

  I dropped my fork. ‘‘No way!’’ I said. ‘‘He stole the little boy’s identity?’’

  ‘‘Yep. Back in the seventies and eighties you didn’t have to have a Social Security number at birth. You could wait until you were sixteen. Somehow Goodyear got hold of Jeffrey’s birth certificate and presented it for a Social Security number in the late eighties. He held on to it for years, then used it to launder the money from the waterworks fund.’’

  ‘‘Wow,’’ I said. ‘‘Do you think the Hillers know?’’

  ‘‘I’m still looking into their bank records, but my guess is no. Mark Hiller is an architect at a firm in Southfield, and his wife works as a buyer for a department store.’’

  ‘‘They’re clean,’’ I said, feeling a buzz in my head. ‘‘They had nothing to do with this.’’

  Dutch nodded. ‘‘I’ll do the check anyway, just to make sure they’re not implicated. That only leaves the question of who Goodyear’s accomplice at the waterworks is.’’

  I tried to tune in on that thought, but came up empty. ‘‘You sure he’s not working alone?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘It’d be pretty tricky,’’ Dutch said as he curled pasta around his own fork. ‘‘He’d have to know a password that he shouldn’t have access to. And the password changes on a regular basis. Someone would have to update him every time the password changed.’’

  My crew chimed in with an opinion. ‘‘Are there cameras in the office where the people who have the passwords work?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘No.’’

  ‘‘Can you guys put some in?’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ he said, looking thoughtfully at me. ‘‘You think he’s breaking in and stealing them?’’

  ‘‘Something’s going on,’’ I said. ‘‘The crew says you need to watch his comings and goings in the office.’’

  ‘‘Tell the crew I said thanks,’’ Dutch said with a wink.

  Later that night while we were watching the news, Dutch said, ‘‘I noticed you’ve already cleaned out some of your stuff.’’

  ‘‘Yeah,’’ I said with a sigh. ‘‘It may take me a few trips to get it all back home.’’

  ‘‘When’s the move-out date?’’

  ‘‘Not sure,’’ I said evasively.

  ‘‘Soon, then, huh?’’ he pressed.

  I took my chin off his chest and looked up at him. ‘‘Maybe. Why? You in a hurry to see me outta here?’’

  Dutch smiled and knuckled the top of my head. ‘‘No, Edgar, I’m in a hurry for you to go home, spend the night away from me, miss me like crazy, and hurry back.’’

  That made me smile. ‘‘You’re convinced I’ll miss you, huh?’’

  ‘‘Yep.’’

  I nodded. ‘‘You’re probably right, but what I won’t miss is that cat.’’ As if on cue, Virgil hopped up on the edge of the bed and regarded me with a particularly disdainful look.

  ‘‘Aw, cut him some slack, Abs. He’s just protecting his turf.’’

  ‘‘He’s evil,’’ I said as Virgil flicked his tail at me.

  Dutch laughed and ruffled my hair. ‘‘He is not, you goof.’’

  ‘‘I swear he’s got it in for me. The other day he almost killed me when I was coming down the stairs. He purposely tripped me!’’

  ‘‘You sure he wasn’t just going up the stairs and you tripped over him?’’

  I scowled at my boyfriend. ‘‘I’m telling you, he’s got it in for me, and this house ain’t big enough for the four of us.’’

  ‘‘I see,’’ Dutch said, the playful grin never leaving his face. ‘‘Fine. Go home. Miss me—not my cat—then come over and visit anyway, okay?’’

  I sighed dramatically. ‘‘Oh, if I must!’’ Dutch’s grin deepened, and that was when he nudged Virgil off the bed with his foot and rolled over on top of me.

  The next morning at five thirty sharp, the alarm sounded and I bolted upright. ‘‘Huh? Wha? Huh?’’ I said as my heart raced and my mind worked hard to shake off its sleepy contentment.

  ‘‘Time to go to the gym,’’ Dutch said with a yawn. ‘‘Better get a move on, Abs. You don’t want to be late for Candice.’’

  I groaned and looked longingly at the pillow.

  ‘‘Don’t you think last night counted as a good workout?’’ I asked.

  The corner of Dutch’s mouth curled up, and his hand reached out to stroke my arm. ‘‘Yep. And if you’d like to get in another workout with me, I’d be willing to make that sacrifice for you.’’

  I seriously considered it for a few seconds, but just then I saw Dutch’s eyelids close and noticed that his breathing slowed to a steady, heavy rhythm. Man, I envied his ability to drop off to sleep in seconds.
Quietly I eased out of the bed and grabbed my workout clothes, heading for the bathroom. A few minutes later I was out the door and driving to the gym.

  I arrived right on time and found Candice already inside, stretching out on the floor. ‘‘Morning!’’ she said happily.

  ‘‘Mmmph,’’ I replied. Mornings have never been my strong suit.

  ‘‘I’m assuming that your therapist gave you the all clear?’’

  I nodded. ‘‘She said the only thing to proceed slowly with is my upper chest. The scar tissue needs to be stretched out over time, not all at once.’’

  ‘‘Great. We’ll go easy on the chest exercises,’’ said Candice. ‘‘Come on, let’s get you stretched out for your cardio workout first, and then we can focus on shoulders and triceps.’’

  Candice and I worked out for a good hour and a half, and by the end of it I didn’t think I liked her anymore. ‘‘Did you ever do a stint in the army?’’ I asked. ‘‘ ’Cuz you could teach a drill sergeant a thing or two.’’

  Candice laughed. ‘‘You’ll thank me in about six weeks when you’ve got the body of a twenty-year-old.’’

  ‘‘I look better now than I did when I was twenty,’’ I said, remembering all the extra weight I carried from dorm food and keg parties back then.

  ‘‘You’ll still thank me,’’ she said. ‘‘But I’ll go easy on you and give you this weekend off.’’ As we made our way into the locker room Candice asked, ‘‘When is your interview with Wolfe again?’’

  ‘‘Monday at two thirty.’’

  Candice nodded as she retrieved her Windbreaker from her locker. ‘‘Word to the wise—Wolfe is apparently a big fan of low-cut blouses and short skirts.’’

  I scowled. ‘‘Shocker.’’

  Candice gave me a knowing look. ‘‘You were hoping to go in with pants and a turtleneck, weren’t you?’’