Enemies Closer

by Parker, Ava

  Kincaid shrugged noncommittally, but it was true – he loved the weather in Seattle.

  It was close to one when they pulled into a loading zone outside Dovetail. Kincaid slapped the official “Police Vehicle” sign on the dashboard and they walked into the busy restaurant. Greeting them at the door, a waiter offered a table, but Carlisle flashed her badge and asked for Michelle.

  “She’s in back. I’ll let her know you’re here,” he said with a concerned smile.

  The detectives went to the empty bar to wait and Michelle came out a few minutes later. After surveying the crowded dining room, she said, “We’d better talk in my office.”

  Kincaid shot his partner a look; he couldn’t read Michelle’s reaction to this most recent intrusion, but he guessed she didn’t want to make a scene in front of her customers. They followed her to the back room and this time, the pile of blankets and pillows were strewn across the old sofa as if someone had been sleeping there. He wondered if it was Michelle or Eddie.

  Michelle closed the door behind them and turned. “What now?”

  She looked exhausted. No surprise, considering that her head chef and business partner was missing and her floor manager had been murdered, but Carlisle wondered if problems with her husband, guilt, or even suspicion were also weighing heavily.

  Kincaid leaned against the wall. “We came across an email exchange between you and Madeline. It’s from a month ago and regards Susan Burns’s job performance.”

  “You came across a personal email exchange?” She looked at the detectives’ blank expressions. “Never mind. I won’t even ask.”

  Carlisle was relieved that she didn’t demand to know how they had discovered the email, but she was also a little suspicious of Michelle’s new attitude. The restaurateur seemed resigned, even a bit depressed. Better take advantage; she forged ahead. “Was Susan good at her job?”

  Michelle nodded. “She was great at her job.”

  Kincaid unfolded a sheet of printer paper from his leather bound notebook and read, “‘How is Susan working out in the evenings? One of our waiters told me he thought she was distracted.’ Something gave you cause for concern.”

  Michelle sat down in her desk chair and sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead before answering. “Look, Maddy and I own this place. We talk about everything. If someone says something to me about a staff member who works with Maddy, I’ll ask her about it. She said everything was going great. No big deal.”

  Except that it was a big deal, thought Carlisle. She could see it in Michelle Perkins’s eyes. “When did Susan start working for you?”

  “Five and a half, six months ago. September. She trained days and nights, but we were hiring her for nights.”

  “Just dinners?” asked Kincaid.

  “Lunches are much less complicated than dinners. Weekdays it’s usually one course, little or no alcohol served, very few desserts, our customers have to get back to the office. Saturday and Sunday are different, but it’s still a short shift, simpler menu. Most of the work in the kitchen is prep for dinner. I spend the mornings in the office doing the ordering, the books, administrative stuff. We have a host, but I take care of the management during lunch. We needed a floor manager to oversee the transition from lunch to dinner when I’m back in the office and Maddy is checking the prep in the kitchen, and then to continue managing front of the house through the dinner service.”

  “What did you do before you hired Susan?” asked Kincaid.

  Michelle laughed. “We worked much longer hours, detective. We had a glorified host at dinner with a few management duties, but I stayed much later and Maddy came in much earlier. We probably could have hired a floor manager sooner, but Maddy and I are both pretty cautious and we wanted to be sure the restaurant was going to make it before we started hiring extra staff.”

  “So she had been working for you since September and a month ago you questioned her work performance?” Carlisle remarked. As the designated bad cop, it was her job to ask any antagonizing questions.

  “I didn’t question it,” said Michelle, “I was just checking in with Maddy because I don’t – didn’t work very closely with Susan.”

  “But Maddy stayed mostly in the kitchen during dinners. She must not have had a lot of contact with Susan either,” said Carlisle.

  Michelle’s nostrils flared, but she kept her temper. “She would know if Dovetail ran smoothly in the evenings, and she certainly saw more of Susan than I did. Plus, Maddy is my partner. As I said, if I hear something about a staff member, I check in with her first.”

  “In her reply, Maddy suggested you ask Eddie. Why didn’t you go to your husband first? You must have known that he came to Dovetail for occasional dinners, and as an owner, surely Eddie would have been paying attention to how the restaurant was running? Or did you have reason not to ask him?” Carlisle tipped her head in the direction of the sofa that had obviously been slept on and waited for Michelle to respond.

  After a moment’s pause and a deep breath, Michelle replied, “I guess I didn’t think of it, Detective Carlisle.”

  Kincaid leaned forward. “Mrs. Perkins, we’ve read your husband’s arrest record in California.”

  She said nothing.

  “He’s been arrested for assault and embezzlement.”

  “And never charged or indicted for either.”

  Kincaid nodded sympathetically, but went on, “Michelle, did you have some reason not to seek out your husband’s opinion on Susan’s work ethic?”

  When Michelle didn’t respond, Carlisle added, “Did you have reason to think his account of her performance might be biased?”

  Michelle straightened. “There are always rumors in a restaurant. The staff could have their own reality show with all of the drama that goes on between them. Almost none of it’s true.”

  Carlisle was surprised that Michelle hadn’t flat out denied everything. “Almost?”

  “Look,” said Michelle, “obviously you’ve been talking to the waitstaff and obviously someone told you that Eddie and Susan had…” She searched for the right phrase. “Been flirtatious or something, I don’t know. But you have to understand, rumors and gossip keep things lively in a restaurant. In the front of the house, the more flirtatious you are, the more money you make, the more popular you are with the customers, the more the restaurant thrives. And I don’t just mean flirting with the opposite sex. I expect my staff to charm men, women and children, old and young, anyone who walks through the front door is to be flattered, pampered, adored, whatever it takes to make our customers want to come back again.”

  “Still,” said Carlisle, “that expectation doesn’t extend to relationships between the staff and the owners, does it?”

  “Detective, nothing was going on between Eddie and Susan. I’m sure of it. My reason for asking Maddy and not my husband about Susan’s work was not motivated by any suspicion. Their relationship was professional and friendly. That’s all there is to it.”

  Both detectives were thinking the same thing: the lady doth protest too much, but Kincaid let it go for now. “Fair enough, Mrs. Perkins, we just have to ask.”

  “I understand, but you can imagine how intrusive all of this is. I just want you to find Maddy and bring her home so that everything can go back to normal.” She looked drained and frustrated.

  Kincaid continued in a gentle tone, “We were also wondering if you and Maddy had made some large payouts from the restaurant?”

  Now Michelle was alert. “Payouts? To whom?”

  “To yourselves. Perhaps bonuses? You said earlier that you were both conservative about hiring extra staff until Dovetail was solidly profitable. Did you recently decide to issue a payout in addition to your salaries?”

  Michelle looked totally confused. “No, we didn’t. Large sums?”

&nb
sp; “Close to forty grand.”

  Michelle looked from Kincaid to Carlisle. “Thanks for the vote of encouragement, but Dovetail isn’t making that kind of money.”

  “So, no payouts from Dovetail?”

  “None, except our salaries which are direct-deposited on the first of the month. We’ve been able to increase those since we opened, but all of our extra profits either go into the restaurant’s savings account or we reinvest them. Why are you asking me this?”

  “All profits and expenditures are accounted for? Nothing is off in your record books?”

  Now she looked alarmed. “Yes, everything is accounted for. I do the daily books myself and our accountant does quarterlies. We’ve never been off, certainly not by forty thousand dollars. What’s going on?”

  Kincaid frowned apologetically. “We really can’t talk about it, Mrs. Perkins. It may be nothing.”

  Michelle was shaking her head. “You’re going to have to excuse me right now, detectives. In addition to running my restaurant without a manager or a chef, now I have to start double-checking my books.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  When they were back on the street, Kincaid looked at his partner. “That was easy.”

  Carlisle shrugged. “She cooperated, but I don’t know if she was telling the truth.”

  Surprised, he said, “If she wasn’t, she’s a great actress.”

  “Hey,” said Carlisle. “Is that Clara? And Ben?”

  Following her gaze, Kincaid said, “It certainly is.”

  Across the street, Clara walked beside Ben, holding his hand. Before crossing she glanced toward the entrance to Dovetail and spotted the detectives. Carlisle held up a hand to stop them and she and Kincaid met them on the other side of the street.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Kincaid brusquely.

  “Just stopping in to see Michelle,” Clara replied casually. Ben had to look down at the sidewalk to hide a grin. The unrelenting tug-of-war between Kincaid and Clara was almost comical.

  “Really? Because I think you came here to ask Michelle about the money in your sister’s account. Maybe even about Eddie’s police record and his whereabouts on Monday night when Madeline went missing? Even after we warned you to proceed with caution? Even after Susan Burns’s brutal murder?” Kincaid’s voice had developed a rhythm; a Kewpie doll coil of red hair bounced on his head as he enunciated, “Even after we warned you of the severity of the situation, of the danger you’re putting yourself in, of the chance you will compromise our ability to find Maddy alive, of the sheer, bullheaded stupidity you are demonstrating by pursuing your own amateur investigation?” He paused to take a breath but Carlisle put a hand on his arm to keep her partner from going on.

  Clara was incensed, her mouth pursed into a rebellious scowl. “Listen up, big brother,” she growled, “you two have yet to bring my sister home, and until you do, I’ll do whatever has to be done to find her, including stepping on your delicate police procedural toes!”

  Kincaid and Clara glared at each other in stubborn silence. Ben exchanged a look with Carlisle, who shrugged and said, “So, you’re at an impasse.”

  Clara turned sharply to face her, but Kincaid let out a snort. “Right.”

  When Clara turned again to face Kincaid, the exasperated look on his face made her chuckle. “You’re an ass, Kincaid.”

  “Yeah, well you’re pigheaded.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed blithely.

  “Listen,” said Carlisle, “we just asked Michelle about possible payouts from the restaurant. She said they didn’t make any, and we didn’t tell her why we were asking because we don’t want her to know about the money in Maddy’s account.” She didn’t mention Eddie and Susan’s possible relationship because she didn’t want Clara to start asking questions.

  Clara looked disappointed. “Did you ask about Eddie’s arrests?”

  “We did.”

  “And?”

  “She knows all about her husband’s police record.”

  “So, did you get any new information at all from her?”

  Carlisle just looked at Clara for a moment. She felt tremendous sympathy for her and understood her frustrations, but it was time to make a few things crystal clear. “Clara, we can’t stop you from searching for your sister, but if you walk into that restaurant now and confront Michelle with everything we have learned in the last twenty-four hours, you will compromise our ability to locate Maddy and determine who is responsible for her disappearance. Information about our investigation will spread through that restaurant like wildfire. Whether Michelle is involved, whether her husband is involved, if the jealous lunch-shift hostess or the disgruntled sous chef did it, the information we gather during our investigation could help the kidnapper elude the police. So my partner and I,” she patted Kincaid on the shoulder, “are asking you, for the good of our investigation, to refrain from asking Michelle any leading questions.”

  Clara looked from Carlisle to Kincaid to Ben and said, “Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.” She turned to Kincaid. “See? You don’t have to be such a jerk. I’m perfectly reasonable when you speak to me like I’m an adult.”

  Kincaid rolled his eyes, trying to hide a smile.

  Ben, who had been silent until now, said, “I think Clara should still check in with Michelle. It would seem strange if she didn’t.”

  Clara nodded in agreement. “They should all keep thinking that I’m on their side.”

  “Fair enough,” said Kincaid. He looked at Ben and asked for the second time in twenty-four hours, “Any chance you can keep her reined in?”

  “No,” Ben replied before Clara could retort. “But I think you can trust her.”

  “Okay,” said Carlisle with a stern look, “same rules apply. Anything you find out, let us know immediately.”

  The detectives crossed the street and walked back to the unmarked sedan. “She is really a handful,” said Kincaid with a broad smile.

  “Why do you egg her on, Jerry?”

  “I can’t help it. She’s like a kid sister I have to torment. Besides, the old one-two punch worked perfectly. I pissed her off, and then you went in with the cool voice of reason.”

  As they pulled out into the street, Carlisle smiled. “We’re a good team, Kincaid.”

  Maddy Gardner emptied another bottle of water and set it down beside her. It was daylight again, though not much light penetrated her underground prison. Bleakly, she unwrapped a granola bar and took a bite, trying to make out the nutritional information. No vitamin C, she guessed. If all else fails, I’ll still die of scurvy down here. The thought made her giggle a little and the slightly hysterical sound was eerie – the packed soil floor and walls of the basement absorbed sound, flattening it, like the sound of her own voice reverberating in her head underwater.

  A warm tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily, steeling herself to begin the day’s work. She was going to find a way out of here.

  Maddy didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious before she woke up here, but she did know that there had been five sunrises since then. Five days. Someone had to be looking for her. Michelle would have called out the cavalry the first day she didn’t show up for work. Maddy thought of Clara and hoped she wasn’t putting herself in danger, but in her heart she knew that Clara would have come looking for her. Her little sister was like a heat-seeking missile when something needed to get done and if Michelle told her Maddy had disappeared, Clara would be in Seattle leading the brigade to find her.

  But what if I’m not in Seattle anymore? She immediately dismissed the thought. It wasn’t productive, and piling on more trouble would only ruin her morale.

  Finishing the granola bar, she opened another gallon jug of water, taking a swig and swishing it around in her mouth before swallowing. What she wouldn’t
give for a toothbrush.

  Maddy had spent the last few days methodically searching the circumference of her tether for anything that might get her out of this place. She knew the window of the cellar faced east because she got the most light in the morning, but that meant that by noon she lost most of it. There was no light to speak of reflecting on the ceiling and she had yet to find a door that led into the place. There must be a hatch in the floor above her. She figured she’d been brought down on a ladder. And not very gently. She had bruises on her arms and legs that could not be explained by her chain.

  Trying again to remember where she went Monday night, she quickly grew frustrated. Her mind remained completely blank. The more Maddy thought about it, the further away the answers seemed. Taking a few deep breaths, she decided to leave it for the time being.

  Now she needed to take advantage of the diffuse light coming through the narrow window.

  Standing, Maddy let the filthy sleeping bag fall to the floor and began stretching her limbs. She did a few squats and lunges for good measure – she could at least keep her muscles from atrophying. Next, she picked up the wood plank she had pulled from the crate holding her dry storage foodstuffs and walked to the end of her chain, where she had found the corner of a metal box sticking out of a soft spot in the otherwise hard-packed earth.

  Maddy Gardner sat down with her makeshift shovel and started digging.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “They played me,” Clara said to Ben after the two detectives walked away.

  “He pisses you off. She calms you down.”

  “Classic good cop, bad cop.” She smiled appreciatively. “They’re right, though. I have to watch what I say. Chances are good that Michelle will tell Eddie anything she finds out about the investigation. And he may use it to hide something.”