Greg whistled, still keeping it low so as not to draw attention. “I’ve never thought about it before, but a lot of money’s tied up here. The question is does it all come from the food or is something else going on?” They stopped at the host stand.
The tantalizing aroma of tomatoes and Italian sausage drifted out of the kitchen. Despite the ebbing lunch rush, the dining room remained about half full, the low murmur of conversation underplaying the soft, crooning music. “I can tell you at dinner it can be tough to get a reservation.”
The hostess glanced up with a smile and asked if she could get them a table. Peter showed his badge and asked to see Dominic Rossetti. She excused herself and after a few minutes, returned to escort them upstairs. The elegant stone staircase accentuated the dark hardwood floors. The Rossettis had great taste.
At the top of the stairs, the hostess led them around the corner, and onto thick carpet leading toward offices and a conference room. She stopped at an open door and knocked on the jamb. Behind the desk, a large window overlooked the parking lot, and the city beyond.
Dominic Rossetti smiled and stood to greet them, extending his hand.
Peter took it in a quick clasp and introduced himself and Greg. They sank into leather chairs in front of Dominic’s massive wooden desk.
“Mr. Rossetti, you have a beautiful location here. If I had your view, I would never get anything done.”
Rossetti laughed. “That’s why I have my back to it. Now what can I do for you?”
Peter held out Cindy’s picture. “Mr. Rossetti, do you know this woman?”
Dominic cradled it in his hand and paused. Was he studying the picture because he wasn’t sure if he knew her, or was he trying to decide what to say?
“I don’t know her, although she looks familiar. Is she the woman on TV?”
Of course, he would have seen her on the news. “Yes. Her name was Cindy Carroll. Had you seen her before the news story came out?”
His gaze shifted to the picture again. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Mr. Rossetti, where were you on the night of April twenty-third?”
“Let’s see what was on my calendar.” He handed back the picture, swiveled to his computer, and hit a few keys. “Oh, yes, the night of the fundraiser. We were at the Sky Lake Hotel.”
“We have reason to believe she might have been at the dinner,” Peter continued. “Did you see her there? Was she with anyone?”
“I already told you I hadn’t seen her before.” Dominic’s face flushed, and his voice took on an edge. “If she was there, I didn’t notice her.”
Greg glanced over and wrote a note on his pad, and Peter let the silence grow. “When did you get home?”
Rossetti’s fingers drummed on the edge of his desk. “Fairly late, maybe around midnight.”
“Can anyone verify this?”
The fingers stilled. “Not that she should have to, but my wife, Maria, was with me. She can verify it. Why are you asking me all these questions?”
Peter leaned back in his chair. Time to reduce the tension. “It’s routine, Mr. Rossetti. We’re trying to establish the timing of things. Where she was and who she might have been with.”
“Oh.” Dominic’s shoulders relaxed. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“You’ve been quite helpful. I need to question someone else…” He turned to Greg who made the pretense of flipping back a couple of pages in his notepad.
“Mr. Carlo Litzi.”
Peter turned to Dominic. “I understand he works here. Is he available?”
“Of course. Come with me.” He led them down the hall to an office with the same spectacular view. Dominic ushered them in without announcing them first. Perhaps they had seen them in the parking lot.
“Carlo, there are some detectives here to see you. Detectives, this is Carlo Litzi.”
Carlo stood and offered his hand. His gaze was still on Dominic though, when he said, “Thank you, Dominic, for bringing them in so promptly.”
The sarcasm was not lost on Peter, but Dominic ignored it and left. Peter introduced himself and Greg and then asked the same questions he’d asked Dominic. The answers came easily and swiftly as if he didn’t have to think about it, but a natural arrogance—part of his base personality—tinged his words. Man, it would be fun to wipe the smirk off his face.
“Mr. Litzi, we believe Ms. Carroll was trailing some dealers who supplied the drugs that killed her brother. What do you know about that?”
Carlo moved the stapler from the side of his desk to the middle. “Why would I know anything about some little kid who got into something he shouldn’t have?” He looked up. “Did you guys investigate this woman? Maybe her brother got into her stash, and she didn’t want to admit it? You know how kids like to imitate their older siblings. She may have gotten what she deserved.”
Peter hesitated while Greg wrote in his notebook. “I don’t remember mentioning her brother was younger. Mr. Litzi, do you know the Carrolls?”
“Pinon Creek isn’t big, Detective. These things get around. I didn’t know them personally, but everyone knew when the kid died.”
The time for subtlety was over. “Mr. Litzi, did you kill Cindy Carroll?”
Carlo held his gaze. “I didn’t even know the woman. She didn’t run in my circles, so why would I kill her?”
17
The hospital stayed busy all day. People kept stopping in—the pastor, their friends, and people from the church, even a couple of the kids from the youth group. Their care touched Robin. Of course, none of them knew about the money. Would they come if they did?
Mark’s work friends came in again, one or two at a time. No one looked guilty or as though they wished he wouldn’t wake up. But how did someone like that look? She needed to know more about them. As much as she thought she knew, she didn’t know them well enough to discuss their personal finances. How could she find out more without tipping them off? Maybe Peter could give her some information.
That evening, she cornered him.
“What kinds of questions?” He arched a skeptical brow.
She cleared her throat. “I’m trying to find out what Mark discovered. If he figured out who the leak was, maybe that person set him up.”
“I’m working under the same assumption, but why wouldn’t he have told me? We’ve been working on it for months.”
“I don’t know.” She picked up her journal and wrote Mark’s coworkers’ names, one to a page. “Maybe he didn’t have a chance. I know you guys covered the money angle, but could you go over it with me?” When his face closed and he glanced away from her, she jumped in, “In general, no specifics. Let’s see…Tammi, Bill, Greg, David, and you and Mark, right? Oh, and of course, Chief Donovan. What about Beth? Did she know?"
Peter met her eyes. “Yeah. Anything the chief knows, Beth knows.”
“OK. I know some of them fairly well.” Robin flipped to the beginning. Tammi’s page. “Tammi must be struggling. She talks about how her husband ran up the bills before she kicked him out. It can’t be easy as a single mom without child support. She doesn’t appear to have extra money, but if she was paying bills with it, you might not notice.” She jotted some notes and glanced up.
His gaze was still on her. “We checked Tammi’s credit, and she has a lot of debt. She works another job to pay off some bills, and she’s making progress.” He stroked his jaw. “But I guess she may have gotten tired of trying and decided to go the easy route.”
“So she is a possibility.” Robin wrote a few notes and flipped the page. “Bill lives in a nice house but not ritzy, doesn’t spend a lot of money on flashy cars or boats or expensive toys.” She tapped the page with her pen while she pictured Bill and his wife. “He and Daisy have four kids, and she’s a court stenographer. I don’t think she works full time. I believe they fight a lot about money though. She told me Bill thinks she has a shopping addiction. She didn’t call it that; she called it a problem. And when I wa
s at their house, I noticed every kitchen gadget known to man, or rather woman—which of course, isn’t a crime. What do you think about him?”
Peter resettled and crossed his arms. “Bill also has a lot of debt. There hasn’t been big payments though, only more debt. I’d say he’s struggling to keep his head above water.”
She wrote ‘lots of debt’ and a question mark. “Let’s move on. I don’t know much about Greg or David. What do you know about them?”
“David’s single, lives in a trendy apartment, and drives an SUV. He has nice clothes and some fun toys, but nothing someone with no one else to support couldn’t handle. He doesn’t flash money around.”
Robin wrote ‘single, no influx of money’, and turned the page.
“As for Greg, he has money. We checked it out before.” Peter ran a hand over his face. “His parents died and left him a few acres in Montana. He sold it to some celebrity for a bundle and invested. He works more for something to do than because he needs the money. I can’t imagine him taking such a risk.”
“What about Beth and the chief? Beth wears expensive clothes and drives a sports car. Where does she live?”
“Pinon Heights.”
Robin raised her brows. “That’s the most expensive part of the city! Where does she get the money? I doubt the department pays her much. Going by what they pay my husband at least.”
Peter yawned.
She couldn’t blame him. He’d been over all this before. If there was something obvious, he and Mark would have found it. “The money and the house belong to her aunt. Do you remember her?” When she nodded, he went on. “Janice lives in Sunny View Retirement Home. She lets Beth live in her house rent-free. Since Beth is her heir, Janice figured Beth might as well start taking care of her inheritance. She also gave her the money for the car.” He lowered his arms and slapped a rhythm on his thighs. “Beth doesn’t have to spend the money she earns on anyone but herself. We checked her accounts, and she has quite a bit of money. The amount for the car was deposited in Beth’s account, and a corresponding sum removed from Janice’s. We asked Janice, and she verified she gave Beth the car as a gift.”
“That takes care of Beth. What about the chief? He has plenty of money.” Robin voiced that thought before Peter changed his mind and clammed up.
Peter remained silent. Had she pushed too far? Seconds passed before he exhaled. “He does, but he makes quite a bit more than we do, too. We were trying to subtly check on him, but it’s pretty hard. We did the best we could without being obnoxious. He even wanted us to. I don’t think it’s him, Robin.” He shifted, seeming uncomfortable with more than his seat. “He’s the one who looks like a fool having a traitor in the department and not being able to find him. He gave us his account numbers and even called the bank and told them to cooperate. He made up some story for them about an audit or something. No, I’m sure it’s not him. He wants this person caught more than anyone.”
She snapped her journal closed. She shouldn’t feel let down. After all, if it had been easy, Mark would have solved it already. “Well, that takes care of everyone except you and Mark, and I know neither one of us has any extra money.” She started to laugh and then stopped, remembering the briefcase in the closet. She cleared her throat. “So, where does this get us? Money had to play a part—why else would anyone take such a risk?”
“That was our theory, too, but someone covered their tracks pretty well. Who knows what accounts they may have in another name?”
“Did you guys have a theory? Were you close to catching someone?”
“No, that’s the strange part. We still don’t have a clue who the leak is or who they’re covering for, so why would they set up Mark? I know he didn’t tell you where he was going, but was there anything earlier?”
She thought back, trying to remember the days before the shooting. Nothing came. “I’ve been wracking my brain, but I can’t think of a thing he said to make sense of this. I came home late the night before, and we didn’t have much time to talk. I think he would’ve said something if he’d had a major breakthrough.”
Peter pushed to his feet. “Well, now you know as much as I do, which isn’t much. Let me know if you come up with any ideas. I’m open to suggestions.” He gave a slight wave and trudged out the door.
She needed to go home and get dinner. Heart heavy, she left the hospital. The doctors said Mark could still wake up and be fine, but the longer he lay there oblivious, the scarier it grew. As she crossed the parking lot, Chief Donovan stepped from his car and headed toward the entrance. She sighed when he didn’t see her. She was too tired to catch up, and if she did, she didn’t know what else there was to say.
At home, she dropped her keys and purse on the table by the stairs and looked up, remembering a light being on in her closet the other night. She didn’t remember turning it on. Sometimes she forgot to turn it off in the winter when she had to leave in the dark, but mornings were getting lighter earlier now, and she hadn’t needed it.
Her heart beat faster. Did it mean someone had been in the house? Had they left the light on when they planted the briefcase? Robin, this is getting farfetched. Mark must have put it there for a reason, and she must have turned the light on without remembering it. There wasn’t a logical alternative.
Silvia called from the kitchen. “Robin, is that you, honey? I have dinner on the stove. It should be ready in a minute.”
Heavenly smells wafted from the kitchen. She suppressed a sigh. Now she understood why men didn’t want their wives to work. Well, some men anyway. Walking into a house that smelled like home cooking, and sitting down to a meal without having to lift a finger was heaven, plain and simple. And she was so tired.
She doubted she could carry on a coherent conversation, but they talked a lot about Mark. Both Silvia and Ed were positive he’d wake up. They had prayed, and they said they had peace about it.
If only she possessed some of their peace right now. Even if he was OK, the Internal Affairs thing…How would they deal with it? Of course, if he woke up, he’d explain everything. When…when he woke up, not if he woke up.
Still, the money subject nagged. She shouldn’t bring it up, but it continued nagging until Silvia brought homemade apple pie and set it before her.
“Do you guys think someone could have planted the money?” Robin asked.
“Yes.” Silvia’s face creased into a smile as she fell into the seat across from Robin. “I couldn’t figure out why no one mentioned it earlier.”
Ed smiled at his wife, patted her hand, and then faced Robin. “Do you have a theory?”
“Nothing concrete, but I don’t remember turning my closet light on that morning. I know it’s crazy. But Mark has a thing about me remembering to turn it off, and I’ve developed the habit of not using it unless I have to. It’s been light outside when I’ve dressed the last couple of weeks, so I haven’t had to use it.” She stabbed a piece of apple. “But that’s ridiculous. I must have. Someone couldn’t get in here and plant it without anyone noticing.”
“Maybe someone did notice, but no one’s asked them. Have you talked to your neighbors?”
Robin’s stopped, the fork midway to her mouth. “No, I never considered it. Do you think the police checked with them?”
“Maybe not about that. They’ve probably asked some questions, but I doubt they asked about that.”
“I’ll check with them tomorrow. Maybe someone saw something.” Relieved they didn’t laugh at her or think she was overreacting, she braved bringing up the rest of her fears. Her father-in-law was in midsentence when she blurted, “What about after?”
Ed had picked up his plate and was walking to the sink. He paused and turned. “After what?”
“After Mark wakes up. What’ll happen then? We’ve been focused on getting him to wake up, but what if when he does, they try to pin the murder on him?” She paused. “I’m scared.”
“We’ve been worried about the same thing.” Ed set his plate on the
counter and came back for hers. “Ever since they searched the house, I haven’t felt the same about Mark’s friends. I think he’s safe for the moment since the guard camped outside his door isn’t from his unit. I feel a little better for now.”
“You’re right. It has to be someone in the group.” Robin placed her plate into his outstretched hand. “I don’t want to believe it though. We’ve all grown so close. I can’t imagine any of them doing it.”
“What do we know about these people?” Ed asked.
They listed the names and what they knew, which wasn’t a lot.
Robin had spent some time with the women at barbecues and social events she and Mark participated in. Though she didn’t know them well, she told her in-laws what she knew.
Silvia jumped up. “Ed, do you remember when Joe sent Greg out to live with a relative or something? Rumor was drugs were involved.”
“Yeah, I do remember something. Robin, did Mark ever say anything about it?” She must have looked confused. Ed didn’t wait for her response. “It was just before we moved to Wyoming. Greg and some other kids got caught doing drugs or something. It was all hushed up, and Joe sent him off to Montana or someplace ’til things calmed down. I wonder if it went on his record or if the police chief knows about it.”
With that thought, Robin went upstairs, washed her face, and pulled some clean clothes out to take back to the hospital with her. She pictured Cindy—young, pretty, in her early twenties. Detective Thompson suggested Mark thought Cindy was more attractive than her. Did he enjoy flirting with her?
She jerked back a step. She knew Mark better than that, didn’t she? He wasn’t the flirty type. And from what she’d heard so far, neither was Cindy, especially not with married men.
What about Greg? Did he know Cindy? Could they have been working together? Maggie was beginning to like him. She hoped he wouldn’t disappoint her. She headed back to the hospital and her familiar cot. Sleep didn’t come easy, and at 2:00 AM, Mark woke up.
18
Robin, sleeping on the cot next to Mark’s bed, heard him stir and sat up. His breathing increased and the monitor beeped. She leapt to her feet and stood over him, her hand to her mouth, her heart beating in her chest. She wanted to grab his hand, but she was afraid to touch him.
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