Playing With Fire

by Dirk Greyson

  “Not yet, Stewart. I haven’t been there long enough yet. Almost four years. I’m on a tenure track, though.” Barty seemed more uncomfortable by the minute. “I teach a number of graduate-level classes, and I’ve published three or four articles a year so far.”

  Instantly Stewart went a little green around the edges. “You publish that much?”

  Barty nodded, and Jim could feel him withdrawing quickly. He had to step in.

  “Barty works very hard at what he does, and he’s working with us in order to get some additional information for his research. I’m Deidre’s brother, Jim. I think we met at her Christmas party.”

  Stewart shook his hand, and Jim saw the light go on. “You’re the police officer.”

  “Yeah. Jim is great,” Barty said, staring down Stewart, with his narrow blue eyes, until he backed away.

  “It looks like you’re having a good time impressing everyone,” Jim said once Stewart had decided he needed another drink and went to the bar.

  “He doesn’t like me very much,” Barty said.

  “Not surprising,” Deidre said from behind him, and Jim jumped a little. She turned her back and lowered her voice. “Stewart is a very smart man, but he expects everything to come easily to him and does the minimum to stay in everyone’s good graces.”

  “I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have,” Barty said.

  “You didn’t. He was fishing to find out where you were in relation to him on the academic food chain. He just found out you’re a whale and he’s a feeder fish. Please don’t worry about it.”

  “Is everyone from your department here?” Jim asked.

  “Good God, no. Well, I did invite everyone because it was polite, but Mason Gardener isn’t here yet. He’s the one I beat out for department head, and he’s still smarting a little.” Deidre moved closer. “He has a huge ego, and it got a little bruised, but he doesn’t publish as much as he should and the other faculty don’t like him. He always thinks he has the answers.” She turned to Barty. “I’m sure you have one of those that you work with. If he’d work a little harder, well, he and Stewart, they could each make a real name for themselves, but they’re both worried about how things look rather than getting results.”

  “Maybe we could work on something together,” Barty offered. “I’m willing to bet that there are definite overlaps between some of my pathological models and some economic models. How do compulsion and pathology drive economic spending?”

  “That could be amazing and quite new,” Deidre said. “I’ll definitely call you in a few weeks when I have some things cleared off my plate, and we can map something out.”

  “See. She likes you more than she does me,” Jim told Barty once Deidre had stepped away. He was being sarcastic, but in a way, it was true.

  “I don’t know about that. I mean, we work in the same field, sort of. And we have things in common. Besides, from the looks of things, your sister is in her element… and she gets to be queen bee. I’m sure that had something to do with it.”

  “I hear you teach psychology,” a man said as he approached. “Mason Gardener.” He held out his hand to Barty.

  Jim tensed as he realized this was the man Deidre had beaten out for the position they were all here to celebrate. Mason certainly had brass nuts, that was for sure. Jim had been introduced to him a few times, but they never really spoke. He looked at home in the setting, in his perfectly pressed tan slacks and expensive cobalt blue, short-sleeve shirt that rippled in the light.

  “Barty Halloran. I’m a professor of psychology,” Barty said levelly. “What do you do?”

  Jim put his hand gently at the base of Barty’s back just so he would know he was there.

  “I’m a professor of economics at Templeton. I’ll be working under Deidre, at least for a while,” he said, turning to Jim.

  “Gardener, you made it,” Deidre said as she joined their little group. “I’m so glad you came. Did Franklin answer the door and explain where everything was?”

  He nodded slowly. “I have a family get-together in a few minutes, but I wanted to stop by and say that there are no hard feelings.” He smiled widely, and Jim actually went from looking at Mason to Deidre. The tension between them was palpable, and for a few seconds, he reveled in it.

  “Of course not. We’ve worked together for years, and we’ll continue to do so,” Deidre said graciously, but Jim knew her well enough to know she was only tolerating Mason because she had invited him and he was here. “Can I get you anything to drink? We’ll be serving a late lunch in an hour.”

  “I have to go soon. My brother is having a cookout with his kids. But I did want to stop by.”

  Deidre motioned to the bar and told him to make himself at home, and then Mason caught the eye of other people at the party and moved away. Jim and Barty found themselves momentarily alone.

  “How long do we have to stay?”

  “As long as you like,” Jim said. These things were a little dull for him. “We can meet my parents,” he said, and they moved over to where they were just entering the yard. “Mom, Dad, this is Barty Halloran.”

  “Do you work with Jim?” his mother asked from under a white sun hat decorated with summer flowers that matched the ones on her dress.

  “I am at the moment.” Barty shook hands with both of them, and they talked about nothing for a few minutes. Then his buttoned-up-to-the-throat father excused himself after only a few words to him and joined some of his other friends. His mother talked briefly and then excused herself as well. “If they weren’t your mom and dad, I’d like to kick both of them in the keister. They talked to me more than they did you.”

  The girls hurried out of the house to see their grandma and grandpa, and Jim did his best not to grind his teeth in frustration. Things were the way they were, and he’d come to realize there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Most of the time we barely spoke. This family are experts at denying what they don’t want to see.” Jim stepped up to the bar and asked for a double vodka. He downed it when it was delivered and asked for another. He didn’t want to get drunk, but he could certainly deal with a slight buzz right about then. This was why he didn’t like to come to these things.

  “So, son,” his father said from behind him. At least he’d loosened the top button on his lime-green polo shirt. His father looked like he wanted to get out of there as fast as he could so he could hit the course. At least that’s the impression Jim got from the plaid pants he wore.

  “You’re going to talk to me?” Jim said. “I figured you had decided that I didn’t exist at the moment.”

  “There’s no need to make a scene,” his father whispered and asked for a whiskey. “You have your life, and I can accept that. But that doesn’t mean I have to allow that sort of behavior to influence my life.” His drink was delivered. “Booter, how’s the golf game?” his father said, moving away as though Jim wasn’t there at all.

  Barty had found some more admirers, it seemed, because once again he was surrounded by Deidre’s various colleagues. Jim moved off to one edge of the lawn and sipped his drink. He’d known coming here was a mistake, and he hadn’t wanted to come at all. The funniest thing was that Barty had been worried about coming because he wouldn’t know anyone and then, boom, he’s the life of the party and Jim was on the outs. Granted, he was happy that Barty had people to talk to, but he was also a little left out.

  “Uncle Perpy,” Mindy said, pulling on his pants leg. “I’m bored. Will you play with me?”

  Jim set down his glass. He’d had enough to drink, and this little one was a reminder of why he’d come in the first place. “Sure, honey. Did you see Grandma and Grandpa?”

  She nodded. “Grampy was grumpy, and Grammy said she needed to talk to the ladies.” She pushed out her lower lip, and it was all Jim could do not to smile.

  “I know a game. Why don’t you go over there and rescue Mr. Barty?” he asked, but she shook her head. She was normally a little shy
around strangers. “How about if I come with you?”

  “Okay.” She took his hand and led him to where Barty was starting to look like he could use a drink.

  “We came over to say hello,” Jim said, and Barty turned.

  “We’re here to rescue you,” Mindy said and took Barty’s hand. “And go play ponies,” she added, and Jim knew they’d been had.

  Barty was gracious and let her lead him toward the house.

  A shot rang through the air, echoing off the house and through all the partygoers. Jim hit the ground, pulling Mindy down and under him for protection. Barty was right next to him. “Get her in the house now,” he told Barty, and as he moved forward, a second shot added to the confusion. Jim turned just in time to see dirt and grass fly up into the air next to him. “Everyone inside, now!” Jim cried. “Get in the house. Barty, call the police, tell them I need backup.” Jim raced for cover, even as he looked toward where the shots had come from. The property was lined with high hedges on a berm for added privacy. Jim drew his gun from under his summer jacket and raced off, ignoring the screams and cries of the others behind him as they all tried to get through the doors into the house at once.

  He knew the house and grounds, as well as the neighboring property. He’d visited both before, so Jim cautiously made his way over, using the house for cover as much as he could. He opened the gate near the side of the house, staying low to the ground, and peered down the other side of the hedge. It was empty. Of course. Jim ran out toward the street as a black sedan pulled away from the house. Jim raced after it. The road only turned right at the corner. Jim sprinted across the huge corner lot, jumping immaculate hedges and shrubs, cutting off distance, pointing the gun at the side of the car, a bead on the driver, finger on the trigger.

  “Stop,” he yelled at the top of his lungs, adrenaline pumping as he was about to shoot.

  The car came to an abrupt halt, and he raced up. “Get out with your hands up,” Jim called, racing to the driver’s side. The door opened, and Jim’s first indication that something was wrong was when a small, tan-shoed foot in heels gingerly reached for the ground. It was followed by the rest of the woman, who was old enough to be his grandmother. Jim holstered his weapon and walked up to her as she stared at him with wide eyes.

  “You can have my purse, just don’t hurt me,” she said, shaking.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Jim said. “I’m a police officer. Are you all right?” He felt like a fool, making a rookie mistake. “Did you see another car pass you?” He breathed to steady himself.

  “No one passed me. But another car pulled out as I was coming up the street.”

  “Can you tell me what it looked like?”

  Sirens sounded, getting louder with each second.

  Her shaking had stopped, and she held the side of the car.

  “Do you need some help?”

  “I’m perfectly capable of caring for myself when men aren’t pointing guns at me,” she snapped as she slowly got back in her car. “The other car was blue, dark blue, but that’s all I saw. It was a car, though, not one of those behemoths,” she said, pointing to the huge SUV in a nearby driveway.

  The sirens grew closer. “I’m sorry again, ma’am. Could you please pull over and wait a few minutes?” The police cars came to a stop, and Jim waved an officer to him. “Get her statement,” Jim ordered and raced back toward his sister’s house.

  “What happened?” Captain Westin asked as Jim met him getting out of his car.

  “Two shots fired. I don’t think anyone was injured. I stopped the woman over there as she was pulling away from the scene. I doubt she’s the shooter, but she might have seen the car.”

  “Go around back and make sure everyone is all right,” Captain Westin told him as he headed for the front of the house.

  Jim hurried the way he’d come through the gate. Tumbled chairs littered the lawn, a few of the tables had been upset, their bright flowers trampled into the dirt. No one was outside lying on the ground, which was good. Jim approached the back door, and it opened for him, and he stepped into pandemonium.

  “All right,” Jim said over the din. “Is anyone hurt?”

  “No,” Barty said from one of the chairs with Mindy on his lap, hugging him. She squirmed down and hugged Jim’s legs. Deidre approached, handed Meghan to Jim’s mother, and picked up Mindy, comforting her gently. “I already checked.”

  “We’ll need to speak to each of you before you leave,” Captain Westin said. “So get comfortable, and we’ll let you go as soon as we can.”

  People continued talking in hushed tones as Captain Westin made his way over to Jim.

  “Did you see where the shots came from?”

  “The neighboring hedges,” Jim answered, pointing to the side of the yard. Then he and Captain Westin stepped outside and beyond of the view of the people in the house. “One of the shots hit near Barty. I saw the dirt fly from the second shot. I think the first also hit nearby.”

  “So you think he was the target?” Captain Westin asked, and Jim nodded once.

  “I can position us in the yard. We’ll need to see the trajectory of the first shot to know for sure.” His mouth went dry.

  “Okay.” Captain Westin got officers into the backyard to secure and process the scene. “I want you to work with them out here. I’ll talk to the people inside.”

  Jim nodded and joined the two officers.

  It was easy enough to find where the second bullet was; the divot was clear. But the first one was more difficult. Jim searched, looking over every inch of grass, and then moved to the hedge.

  “Over here,” one of the other officers, Jones, called from the bushes behind him, just down the hedgerow, and Jim hurried over. “Look at this,” Jones said as he pointed to privet leaves from the bush, scattered on the ground.

  “That’s from one of the shots,” Jim said, peering back up the hole. There were marks on some of the branches inside the thick plant. “Get pictures of everything and carefully dig the bullet out of the hedge.” His sister was going to kill him for ruining her perfect shrubs, but it couldn’t be helped.

  He turned and followed what he hoped might be the trajectory of the second shot across the yard and into the hedge on the other side. “Here is where he took the shot,” Jim said, being careful not to touch anything. He leaned down, looking back toward the spot in the other hedge. In his mind’s eye, he added where he and Barty had been standing, and some things became very clear to him. Barty had been target of at least the first shot. The second one was much lower and nearer to where they had been on the ground, a further attempt.

  Jim walked over to where they’d been, not touching any of the evidence but looking at where they had been and then at the shooter’s spot. The coward had taken a shot at Barty while he’d been on the ground.

  “What do we have?” Captain Westin asked as he approached Jim, stepping around the evidence markers while the officers continued gathering evidence and taking pictures of everything.

  “One bullet in the hedge over there and one right here. Barty was standing here.” He pointed so he didn’t disturb the ground any more than it had been.

  “I have a forensics team on the way, so put markers where you and other people were.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re processing the scene, but I’m not particularly hopeful. No one seemed to have seen anything. The hedge is thick enough that they couldn’t see through it, and people were coming and going, so it’s hard to know if anyone slipped away. But did you notice anyone leave the party just before the shots were fired?”

  “Not particularly. I was with my niece and Barty when the shots were fired. I didn’t hear anything and made my way to where I thought the shots had come from, but I saw no one, and—”

  “Yes. Mrs. Hodges explained how you two were introduced.” He didn’t say any more, and Jim kept his mind on the task in front of him rather than on his ever-growing concern for Barty. “She told us about the car tha
t passed her, but it came from farther up the block behind her.”

  Jim swore under his breath. “It’s my guess that the shooter went back through the other yard and then out to the street. And judging by the caliber of bullet recovered, the weapon was a handgun this time.”

  “So the MO has either changed or we have a different shooter. The others were distant and detached. This one is much closer and seems more personal. It could be whoever hired this personal investigator, but I doubt it. I put more pressure on the guy this morning, and he did offer that he thought his client was a woman. It took some arm-bending and a little negotiation, but he also agreed to contact her and find out what her real motives were.”

  “Why would he do that?” Jim asked, but Captain Westin simply stared at him for a few seconds.

  “Let’s just say that I like Barty too.” He took a step closer. “I need you to step away from this investigation and my crime scene now. Let us do our jobs. You need to give a statement just like everyone else before we can let people go. Then, once we’re done, I want you to go home for the rest of the day. This is going to take quite a while.”

  “I’m off the case?”

  “No. But in this instance, you’re a witness, and I need you as that more than I need you personally involved at the moment. Get some distance, and once they’re through with both of you, get Barty home, and for God’s sake, be careful. Someone certainly seems to be out to kill him.”

  Jim turned and went inside. A number of people from the party had been cleared and were gone. The officers used Deidre’s study as a command post and called in witnesses one at a time. Jim sat with Barty and waited his turn. Deidre and Franklin were nowhere to be seen, and neither were Jim’s parents.

  “They went upstairs with the kids,” Barty told him when he asked. “Meghan was upset, and Mindy kept saying how you held her when the big booms sounded. She is so cute.” Barty’s words expressed he was trying to make light of things, but his eyes said he was terrified.

  “It’s okay. No one was hurt.”

  “I know. But he was after me,” Barty told him. “He as much as said so in his last message, and I discounted it.”