Threads of Suspicion

by Dee Henderson

  “I remember you mentioning it at the time.” David nodded to the third plate. “Ann’s going to join us?”

  “She’s across the street buying a gift for Paul. She asked me to order her a cheeseburger and fries.”

  “We’ll make that two then—sounds good whether this is breakfast or lunch.”

  “Three.”

  David smiled, signaled the waiter, gave the order.

  “So how do you resolve who was the real Jenna?” he asked.

  “Find more people who didn’t like her, if that’s possible. I’m not particularly hopeful, though. Even if they didn’t like her at the time, they feel bad about her disappearance, and it determines how they want to describe her today. So I’ve decided I mostly want to talk with her sister.”

  David lifted an eyebrow. “I think I’ll sidestep that conversation. A guy asking her to dish on her missing sister could dampen the flow of information.”

  Evie smiled. “Hence my asking Ann to come along.”

  Ann appeared as she spoke, a bag from an upscale men’s shop in her hand. “Hi, David, Evie.” She sat down, settling her purchases in the empty seat. “I don’t know why I assume shopping for Paul is as easy as walking into a store and making a decision. Men’s clothes are worse than women’s. All the fabrics and colors and patterns you have to hit just right—a shirt with a subtle stripe, or is it checked, does it need a solid tie or can it contrast in pattern? It’s dizzying.”

  They all chuckled, and David said, “I’d suggest finding an employee at the store who does know how to do it, then say, ‘I need pants, shirt, tie, jacket, keep it under five hundred,’ and come back later to pick it all up.”

  “Sounds like a better plan. But at least I know Paul doesn’t have this particular shirt or tie design anywhere in his closet. So score one for originality. David, I am very curious about your day yesterday.”

  “A fascinating day. Saul Morris’s remains are located, official confirmation to come, and Englewood detectives have an interesting murder investigation ahead of them. We’ve now handed the case off to them—hit in the back of the head, shot in the chest, and entombed in a wall. Connections to Blake Grayson are strong enough they’ll be looking at him to have either done the murder or approved it. Finding enough for an arrest and taking it to trial is an entirely different matter.”

  “Sharon asked Paul last night for anything the FBI had on Blake Grayson, so I imagine it’s going to get worked from a couple of angles now,” Ann mentioned.

  “Good to hear,” David said around a drink from his soda. “Lori Nesbitt found the remains.”

  Conversation paused as the waiter brought three plates to the table and refilled soft drinks.

  Evie picked up her sandwich. “So, Ann, why don’t you tell us about Lori Nesbitt?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Is it her real name? Is she the WITSEC death attorney? Is it true she’s retired now? Why didn’t you tell me you had recruited a top-shelf cop to get close to Nathan?”

  Ann picked up one of her French fries. “He needs a wife. She’d make him a good one.”

  “On that note . . .” David said, picking up his plate, “I am abandoning this conversation to you ladies, retreating to a side table where I can call Maggie and ask what she’s doing right now. She should have landed in Chicago about forty minutes ago.”

  The two laughed and waved him off.

  It was a comfortable lunch, sorting out the lives of people Evie knew only in passing. Ann was good at matching people up, had a track record suggesting her instincts were solid for who would click together. Lori Nesbitt and Nathan Lewis were on Ann’s list of people to connect.

  Evie got Ann to confirm Lori was retired, but couldn’t get confirmation on it being from law enforcement. She accepted the counsel to let it go. Ann kept secrets, and would be keeping Lori’s for the duration. But it was fun to wonder about the woman’s true story. Given Ann’s particular circle of friends, Lori could be someone who had worked for WITSEC, or she could just as likely be similar to the Grayson brother, leaving an organized-crime family behind, now in witness protection herself, rebuilding a new life in Chicago. Whatever her story, Lori was an intriguing person, of that Evie was certain. Ann didn’t put someone next to Nathan she didn’t trust and deeply like.

  Evie used her teeth to remove a stuck glove, slipped out of her coat, glad to be back in the office.

  “How’d it go with Jenna’s sister?” David asked from a desk where he’d set himself up near the office windows.

  “Surprisingly, Marla confirmed Candy’s take on Jenna.” Evie raided a bowl of pretzels before walking over. “Candy’s basic charge against Jenna,” she continued, “is that she came in and stole her boyfriend. Jenna’s sister, in more polite words, said that was exactly what Jenna would do if the right situation presented itself. Jenna liked guys and had the ‘good girl’ image to dangle out there. Without it being too obvious, she caught more than her fair share.”

  “A predator with a nice smile,” David replied, intrigued.

  “Well, an opportunist at least. I’m guessing someone besides Candy didn’t like Jenna getting her hooks into her boyfriend and so went after Jenna.”

  “Steve was out of town that weekend,” David recalled. “If Jenna had someone else she was involved with, odds are decent she talked with him that Friday. Maybe the girlfriend overheard the conversation, was there to confront Jenna when she got home from the concert.”

  Evie nodded. “That could be the scenario.” She nodded to the box of photo albums and scrapbooks Jenna had put together. “I’m going to sort through the photos Jenna decided to keep, see if I can find some casual shots suggesting one or more ‘other guy.’ She didn’t want to lose Steve, but she wasn’t ready to quit with flirting—maybe another version of catch-and-release?”

  David grinned at her humor. She looked curiously at his laptop screen. “Lucas Pitch?”

  “Tammy’s boyfriend is now a concert promoter in Ohio. I’ve got an interview with him by Skype in—” he glanced at his watch—“twenty-eight minutes.”

  “Nice.”

  “If Tammy was taking off on her own that Sunday night, it makes sense she might have been in touch with her high school boyfriend, or she might have looked him up as part of her travels. He was living here in Chicago at the time, working at a music shop off Kliborne Avenue.”

  Evie looked to the two whiteboards, where the five possible case details were laid out as a grid. “You remove Tammy, it puts them all going to college. You remove Jenna, it’s even tighter.”

  “The missing driver’s licenses say Jenna is linked to the three whose bodies were recovered,” David said. “I think she’ll match there rather than be a stand-alone.”

  “Maybe. We need the case before Jenna. It’ll be something more subtle than a disappearance, but it’s back there. An assault, a B&E—something.”

  “Search B&Es around your college and pursue pickpocket arrests. Go back in time on this guy. Start looking for what he was doing when he was fourteen through twenty.”

  “I’ll put my time there next,” Evie agreed.

  “I told Maggie we’d come by this evening about seven,” David mentioned.

  Evie wished she had known that when she got dressed this morning. She looked okay, but just okay.

  David must have read her expression and said, “You look fine—Maggie goes casual whenever she can.”

  “I need to get that housewarming gift.”

  “You can take a rain check on that. She’ll be flying back to New York Monday morning. A plant would die on her before she’s in town for good.”

  “I’ll get her something nice later then.” Evie went back to her desk. “We’re going to find this guy, David,” she said over her shoulder. “Before you have to tell Maggie someone has been targeting women at Triple M concerts.”

  “We will.”

  He sounded less stressed than he had some days ago, which was a good sign. She
’d be extra careful when in conversation with Maggie tonight.

  She moved her backpack from the chair and pulled over the box of photo albums. They would get a break in this case, though probably not as dramatic as with Saul’s. But something would turn up, and the answers would fall open at the right page like a book. She was ready for that moment.

  Evie brought up a playlist so that they could listen to Maggie during the drive to her home. “She’s got talent,” Evie said. “However Maggie’s managed the dynamics of her career, she’s done an excellent job of deploying that talent wisely. I love both her singing and her lyrics.”

  “It’s a gift. One she’s continually thrilled by,” David replied. “She loves hearing a song she’s written come together as a finished piece. It’s like a painter completing a portrait or a pitcher throwing a no-hitter game. That I did this delight when something excellent gets crafted.”

  “Any advice before meeting her?”

  David smiled. “Be yourself. She’ll like you. She’s got a soft spot for cops. Especially me.” They both laughed.

  They were soon driving through the exclusive neighborhood of Barrington. David entered the drive, punched in the security code, and the gates opened. A silver sedan was parked in front of the garage, and he pulled in beside it. “Would you relax, Evie? She’s a nice woman.”

  “I’m sure she is. But this is her lovely home, and she sings before tens of thousands of people—”

  “It’s her day job.”

  Evie laughed at David’s comeback, forcing herself to shake off the nerves. She saw lights through the windows on the main level, artwork visible on the walls as they approached the front door.

  David used his key, and music from overhead met them, not so loud as to be overpowering, but at a volume to delight as a clear voice sang along. He reset security. “We’re here, Maggie,” he called.

  The singing stopped, and they heard footsteps skipping down the stairs. “You’re early! That’s great.”

  She launched herself at David with a confidence she would be caught, and she was swung around in a hug and hello. “I’m loving the house, David. And it’s so nice to be back here!”

  “Glad to hear it, Maggie.” David set her back on her feet, his arm around her shoulders. “Maggie, this is Evie Blackwell. Please be nice—she’s a bit nervous about meeting you.”

  Maggie laughed and offered a hand. Not a beautiful woman, Maggie was more comfortably pretty, with a real smile rather than simply polite. “Welcome, Evie.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Maggie.” The woman was in jeans, the hole in one knee from wear, not fashion. The shirt was equally loved, a blue cotton with a fire-station logo, faded from many washings. Evie felt overdressed and let herself relax. “I’ve been listening to a great deal of your music lately. You have a lovely voice, and your lyrics capture my head and my heart.”

  Maggie beamed her appreciation. “Thank you, Evie. It was God’s surprise to my family. The rest of them can’t carry a tune.” The three laughed together.

  Maggie turned to David, grabbed his hand. “Have you eaten? Say you haven’t even if you have because I’m hoping you’ll cook. You just missed the hordes, which you probably don’t mind all that much. Ashley has been helping me hang the artwork, and she just went to meet Greg at the airport. The makeup and hair crews just left—they’re bringing on new Chicago-based assistants,” she explained, “and needed a practice session before tomorrow’s event. We’ve settled on blue for my gown. It’s been like the decision of the decade to hear them wrestle that one through. Rehearsal is at one p.m. for sound. The band’s already at the hotel and swear they’re settled in nicely. With all that going on, someone forgot to mention dinner, and it’s dawned on me I’m starving. It’s like ten p.m. in New York. I’ve got two hours of energy left, and then I’m going to wilt like a lily without water.”

  David smiled at the rundown. “So long as you’re not fussy about the menu, I’ll figure something out.”

  She patted his chest. “Thank you. And since I know better than to ask about your workday when it’s only been over for like ten minutes, I’ll leave it that you look very tired. You can tell me why after we eat.”

  Evie caught David’s glance before he answered and read its meaning easily enough. Don’t disagree with what I’m about to say. “I’ll think about that, Maggie.”

  “Rough week, not just long day?” Maggie asked, concern furrowing her brow.

  “It’s had its moments,” David said. He nudged off his shoes and set them aside, seemed to make up his mind as he turned back to Maggie. “My missing PI is mostly resolved, although we may never be able to get justice. Evie is making good progress, but it’s probably tied to other crimes the guy might have committed. We’re both in need of an evening without work.”

  Maggie held his face between her hands and kissed him. “Okay. Nice attempt at not telling me the full story, David. But work doesn’t normally bother you this much, even sad cases like this one.”

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “We will.” Maggie waved them toward the comfortable seating arranged around the room, and Evie made a quick decision as they sat down.

  “Maggie,” she said, “my missing girl was at a Triple M concert the night she disappeared. David is trying to avoid telling you that. I’d like to request to look at your albums—any photos you might have from a concert on October 17, 2007.”

  “The night of the car accident,” Maggie realized.

  “Yes. David pretty much had to tell me the history of you two once we realized the overlap. I don’t mean to be the one stirring up old pain, yet I could use anything you might have from that night. My girl might be in the photos, and I might be able to identify friends of hers I haven’t spoken to yet.”

  Maggie nodded. “You’ll have it—or rather, you will when it arrives on Saturday. There’s a box marked CONCERT ALBUMS. You’ll need to sort through it to figure out which one has that October date. Some cover multiple years.”

  “I appreciate that, Maggie. I’ll be careful with them,” Evie reassured. Maggie had just solved another problem without having to be asked, granting access to a range of concerts albums. They might find useful pictures from other Triple M concerts. “I know David was trying to avoid dragging you into our work, plus stirring up that particular set of memories.”

  “It was a night that changed our lives,” she said, reaching over to slide her hand into David’s, “and one I now realize also changed someone else’s life. What was her name, your missing girl?”

  “Jenna Greenhill. Twenty-one, a college student, and she loved your music. She left her apartment sometime after returning from the concert, about eleven-thirty that Friday night—probably about the time you were arriving at the hospital and David was going into surgery,” Evie suggested, deliberately misstating the time estimates. David said he hadn’t been freed from the wreckage for an hour after the crash, and the ER evaluation would have added more time to that.

  “It was a very long night. David went into surgery just after two a.m. The surgeon came out to see me about six o’clock, said the surgery had gone well and I could see him,” Maggie said quietly.

  “And that expression is why I was trying to avoid dragging this question into our evening,” David put in. “You can’t fully enjoy your return to Chicago,” he said with a little smile, “when we’ve been recalling car crashes. So let’s shift to more interesting subjects like dinner, or how the music is coming for the album, or Evie’s boyfriend.”

  “Hey,” Evie protested good-naturedly. Yet she wouldn’t mind talking about Rob if it would help David turn Maggie’s attention away from the subject she had introduced.

  “She’s sitting on a marriage proposal, Maggie, and hasn’t figured out if she wants to say yes or no,” David commented, sealing her fate.

  Maggie, her attention caught, turned to Evie. “That must be a story in itself, not unlike ours,” she remarked with a smile. “So what do you want t
o do, Evie, tell David to button up or tell me the rest of the story?”

  There was more than just kindness and good humor in the question; there was sympathy and a great deal of empathy giving life to the invitation.

  “I don’t mind sharing the story, as it never hurts to get a woman’s opinion on such matters. His name is Rob Turney,” she said, her tone turning playful, “and your David looks like a great catch only because you haven’t met Rob and realized you settled on your guy too early.”

  Maggie laughed. “David, you’ll have to fuss over dinner without help. We’re going to go unpack while we talk.” She turned to Evie. “Come on up. I’ll probably ask for advice on where to put things—an occupational hazard. I like to hear alternate opinions.”

  Evie followed her. “I like helping people move in. It’s the one time the house is still a place of possibilities.”

  “Oh, that’s a perfect description! I might borrow that line in a lyric. We’ll be upstairs, David.”

  “I’ll call when it’s ready,” he said.

  Evie followed Maggie up the staircase. The room next to the master bedroom had been transformed into a dressing room. A pair of closets were being filled with custom-made stage gowns. “I’m unpacking the professional apparel in here, as it would take over the master bedroom if I let it. I’m working my way through the wardrobe boxes. If you want to continue hanging those dresses, I’ll match up the shoes. The trick is to locate the ribbons sewn into the shoulders, so when you put them on the hanger, it’s the ribbons holding the weight rather than the shoulder material.”

  “I can do that.” Evie understood clothes well enough to appreciate the skill that had gone into crafting these gowns. Boxed individually, they were layered in tissue paper and grouped together within larger traveling wardrobe boxes.

  She encountered a lemon-yellow silk in the first box and nearly sighed with delight at its beauty. Stage lights hitting it would make the fabric shimmer like the early sun. The perks of a performing career are clothes at this level of design, she thought. She carefully lifted out the dress and hung it on one of the padded hangers, slipped the ribbons into place, added it to the others in the closet.