“The kid did see one of the stolen guns; he remembered the last three digits of the serial number and they were right. But he was a nine year old going on thirty-nine. He negotiated forty bucks out of my pocket just for those numbers.”
“You should have negotiated for the name of the friend who showed him the gun.”
“He wanted an even hundred for that; I didn’t feel like being that generous given the phone call woke me up.”
Rae laughed as she pushed open her door. “You were better able to haggle in the past. So what are we looking for again?”
“His friend who was showing off the gun shares a bedroom at home, so anything he considered important he never takes home; he leaves it stashed in his secret place. My nine-year-old hustler says that secret place is somewhere in this alley. Precisely where, he doesn’t know.”
“You would have been better off spending the hundred so we could just go talk to the friend.”
“If I have to. The store was robbed by a guy in his late forties or fifties so we’re still a ways away from the final name we need to find. This gun may simply be a discard, and forty bucks is enough for that.”
Rae scanned the depth of the alley and the stacked trash. “At least I dressed appropriately for the occasion.”
“You look cute in overalls.”
“I look like the trash man that never visits here. I’ll take the right; you take the left?”
Bruce held out a pair of work gloves. “Find it, and I’ll give you the hundred.”
“For a hundred, I might even show some competitive spirit in this search.”
* * *
“This is promising,” Bruce said.
Rae set aside a rumpled army jacket to look over at Bruce. Twenty minutes of searching had left her with a profound appreciation for neat people who threw their trash away properly.
Bruce pried the lid off a steel drum and looked inside. He nodded. “One secret stash site, nicely protected against rain, wind, snow, and less-persistent searchers.” He glanced over at Rae and smiled. “The kid had a box of dog doo sitting on top of the barrel.”
“That would be a good deterrent.”
Bruce set aside the lid and began lifting out items, starting with a layer of folded clothes. “Baseball glove, autographed ball, jacket with stitched name—Stephen—schoolbooks, school ID, bus pass—the kid’s life is in here.”
Rae opened one of the schoolbooks. “Stephen Foster. It matches the school ID. Sophomore? Junior maybe? I don’t remember the course work well enough to tell. I’m guessing from this that his home is somewhere he stays as little as possible.”
“Sadly probably true. It’s odd that a nine-year-old kid would have such an older kid as a close friend.”
“I don’t know; street friends are a breed of their own,” Rae guessed.
“One box. Heavy.” Bruce lifted it out and passed it over.
Rae opened the top and found several layers of fabric. She unwrapped the first piece of cloth in the box. “Handgun.” She read off the serial number.
“That’s one of them,” Bruce agreed.
Rae checked the box. “Six handguns, safely stored away. Do you have a full list of the serial numbers?”
Bruce tugged it from his pocket and she started checking each gun against the list. “Anything else from the robbery in that barrel?”
Bruce continued searching. “Not that I can see.” He returned items to the barrel in the same order he’d removed them. “The guns got too hot to hold or sell, got discarded, and our Stephen was enterprising enough to find them?”
“It works for me. Leave the kid the hundred bucks,” Rae replied.
“What?”
“Leave him the hundred bucks, your card, and a note that says there’s another hundred if he tells us where he found the box.”
Bruce dug out his wallet. “You’re awful generous with the company’s money.”
“Nathan is going to be able to get prints off this box or the guns. But I want to gift wrap it for him with names and everything.”
“And everything is right. For this price, we’ll end up losing money on the case.”
“Think of it as charity for street kids.”
“I prefer the tax-deductible kind,” Bruce replied, amused, but he wrote the note.
27
Nathan could not remember the last time the M&T Diner was standing room only. Folks were spilling over to Sir Arthur’s for seating and carrying over lunch. He listened to the talk around him and tried to sort out those who were only gossiping from those who sounded overly stressed. The strike was hitting families hard. He could hear it in the voices around him.
“Is this chair for me?”
Nathan smiled at his mom as she squeezed into the nook. He pushed over the coffee he had ordered for her. “Mabel wants to know if you would like peach or apple pie,” he mentioned, guessing the question he’d just been asked in pantomime by the lady behind the counter.
“Peach.”
Nathan pointed to the left plate Mabel was holding up. “Ready for the council meeting?”
“Never, but that’s beside the point,” his mom replied, cheerful as always. “The agenda should have us talking until dinnertime just to get through the public inquiries. I did get you the extra cash you need to deal with the building’s furnace. The fire chief was feeling generous this morning and gifted you part of his capital funds.”
“Truly? When can I spend it?” He was hoping that answer was tomorrow.
She laughed. “I already called Peter and told him to deal with the problem. You’ll hear metal slamming around and guys fussing over that old beast on Monday.” She leaned over and tapped her cheek. “You owe me a kiss.”
He obliged.
Mabel brought over the pie for his mom.
“She’s fixing my furnace, Mabel. I’m thinking bumper stickers in her honor. Linda Justice—Mayor for Life. What do you think?”
“Who else is ever going to want the job?”
Linda laughed. “How very true. You do know he’s telling you about it just to make sure I can’t back out of the commitment.”
“You raised a resourceful son. Would you like more coffee, Sheriff?”
“Keep it coming,” Nathan replied, knowing he would need every bit of the caffeine before the day was over. He sliced into his pie. He’d start working his mom for funds to deal with the roof next.
His mom poured cream into her coffee. “I met Rae Gabriella briefly this morning. She seems like a nice lady.”
“She’s a very nice lady,” Nathan agreed, amused at her opening conversation subject.
“Private.”
“Very.”
“Good sense of humor.”
“Trying to make sure I noticed what I already noticed, Mom?”
“Just doing some basic checking.”
Nathan was accustomed to the trespassing into his personal life and didn’t mind it on the whole. He liked to know what his mom thought about people. “I’m interested, but then so is Bruce.”
“It crossed my mind that that might be the case. She blushes quite easily, Miss Gabriella, when the subject of the ring she wears comes up. It’s not so clear from my conversation with her who it is from.”
“I always assumed Bruce. They dated seriously eleven years ago.” The pearl ring Rae wore on her right hand didn’t fit as a friendship ring, and the setting was too new in style to suggest it was a family heirloom; he’d noticed it because his life went better when he did.
“She strikes me as not the kind of lady to give her affections or friendship lightly.”
The photos set out on the dresser of her hotel room had convinced him of the same thing, but Rae was not a subject he was ready to discuss with his mom. “Let’s leave that thought for another time.”
“Have you introduced her to Henry yet?”
He smiled. “She’ll meet him on her own soon enough, I think.”
“Sheriff, you and I need to talk.”
&n
bsp; Nathan turned to find the coroner at his elbow. It didn’t look like it was going to be a pleasant conversation. “Mom, may I abandon you for a few minutes?”
“Go. I need to get to the council meeting early anyway. I’ll catch up with you later tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” Franklin touched a gloved hand to his hat.
Nathan left cash on the table for both his and his mom’s coffee and pie and pointed to the door. He followed Franklin outside.
“You suspect someone in the lab is fixing the blood-test results.”
Nathan shook his head and kept walking, determined to have this conversation without being overheard. “I’ve got three deaths, two of which are being ruled natural causes, and the third possibly being cancer. I’m thinking about what I do when I’m looking at death number four. There’s nothing that is pointing to the lab beyond the fact it could theoretically be an explanation. I’m just trying to rule out the long-shot possibilities now, before I’m having to do it with the media looking over my shoulder.”
“Well, I don’t like the suggestion.”
Nathan accepted that. “I’ve got to do something, Franklin. Right now what I can do is to check out intentional errors by those doing the investigation. I’m not just asking the hard questions about your people; I’m asking them of mine too. If death number four appears and I can’t figure something out, I’m going to be inclined to turn in my badge and resign the job. Not doing something right now isn’t an option.”
Franklin shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and sighed, then nodded. “I’ll have the blood tests rerun by another lab. We can request help out of Chicago to look again at the food items from the scenes.”
“Thank you.”
“I understand the worry, Nathan. I signed my name on those death certificates, and with that my reputation. But I’m telling you, everything says natural causes with Peggy and Karen, and Nella did have an advanced case of cancer.”
“I understand that, Franklin. I’m just stepping back and seeing the bigger picture. The tile-plant strike is an economic blow to this community that may get much worse. If the tourism business starts to drop off because coincidences start to be too much for people to accept as coincidences—this town just can’t survive that kind of second hit.
“I need facts I can tell the newspaper reporter for Monday’s edition to keep this tamped down. I’m already having to convince the editor not to run the photos of Peggy, Karen, and Nella across the top of the front page with a bold reference to the town’s ‘ghost killer.’ He’s seeing a chance to finally get his paper’s circulation numbers to improve with some sensational headlines.”
Franklin winced. “He’d do it too. Tell the reporter to call me directly.”
“I appreciate it. I just need time. I’ll take any straw I can grasp to give me that.”
“I’ll call as soon as I get any of the lab tests back,” Franklin promised.
* * *
Rae dropped her cleaning rag into a ten-gallon bucket and blew a strand of hair off her face. She leaned back on her heels studying her work, pleased with the progress so far. The red paint of the car gleamed and the rich leather seats were starting to look closer to their original factory-installed condition.
She felt a bit guilty for working on her car rather than pitching in to help her uncle and cousin around the warehouse, but her uncle had just laughed and told her to go play with her new toy. He understood why the car had the attraction it did for her. Style was part of it, speed, but also the fact that in the car she was in her own world. Not much of life felt that way anymore, totally hers.
“I think you ought to reconsider this, Rae,” Bruce said, settling onto a stool beside her next to the cart of cleaning supplies. “You really want to drive this car?”
She patted the side panel of the car. “Hey, be nice.” She pointed out the progress. “The bullet hole in the roof is patched; the blood is mostly soaked out. The leather isn’t entirely stain free, but it’s merely a shadow now, and it’s too expensive to replace the seats. If someone didn’t know this was where a guy had died, there is nothing here to indicate it.”
“I think the smell might.”
“Pulling the odor out will take weeks,” she conceded, “but it will eventually clear up. I think the car cleaned up remarkably well.”
Bruce leaned in to study the interior. “It’s relative, I suppose. In the meantime you’re going to step out of that car with your clothes and hair smelling like a dead guy—not exactly the funnest company I’ve been around.”
She smiled. “I’ll park it with the windows open for the next month; it would take a brave car thief to want to climb in. What did you hear from Nathan?”
Bruce looked at the phone in his hand. “The disturbing kind of news. Nella most likely died of bone cancer.”
“Cancer.”
Bruce nodded. “That makes three natural-caused deaths in no time at all. I told him to stop by our office tonight and we’ll let him talk himself in a circle one more time. He’s convinced he’s missing something, but I’m at a loss for what to suggest.”
“I meet with Peggy’s parents on Monday. It would be nice to have something to tell them other than the fact her daughter was one of three natural-cause deaths in Justice, Illinois, in a matter of a week.”
“It does seem less than ideal as an answer.”
She returned to work, washing the car windows for a final time. “Did you tell him about the handguns?”
Bruce shook his head. “Since Foster called wanting his second hundred, I just told Nathan I had a solid lead and I hoped to have something for him this evening. I’ll meet this kid on the way back to town and then check out the area where he found the box and see if there are any other robbery items which got tossed. I’ll take the guns over to the station and turn them in after that.”
“Nathan is going to be relieved.”
“I’m going to enjoy marking that particular case off the board,” Bruce agreed. “The cops will eventually get the robbery solved, but I’m betting it wasn’t a local who did it.”
He leaned into the car to gather up the rags she had used to wipe down the dashboard. “Who owned this car? Do you know?”
“A guy named Danforth. He did a stretch of time for dealing drugs. He got out and a few weeks later shot himself. The car sat in the police evidence lot and then the alley of the guy’s sister until it was sold off.”
“The expense of the car suggested he’d had money stashed on the outside just waiting for him to get out. Why kill himself then? If he was suicidal, you figure he would have committed suicide in jail and saved himself the hard time. Once he was out—it doesn’t make sense. You figure a dealer might go by an overdose while celebrating his freedom, not from a bullet to the brain.”
“It’s a puzzle,” Rae agreed. “But then my life is full of puzzles right now.”
She moved around to finish up work on the back window. “I’ve been thinking some more about what I’ll have for Peggy’s parents. We know Peggy had the orange notebook when she talked with Andy. She likely went from his place to Nella’s home, and then there’s a time gap before she returned to the hotel. That orange cover notebook is not in her hotel room or her car. I think she went to Joe Prescott’s place late that Saturday night and managed to lose her notebook. I’d like to check.”
“You think so?”
“I’ve run every other idea I can think of into the ground for where it might be.”
“We can look. Why don’t you plan to stop back at the hotel and grab a shower and clean up while I stop off and talk with this kid, then we’ll go out to Prescott’s place?”
“Thanks.” She stripped off her gloves and stretched to take a crick out of her back. “Did I tell you I got a call from the Realtor out east?”
“No.”
“She’s got an older couple who are moving from Atlanta who are interested in the house. It’s a decent offer. I’m thi
nking about taking it.”
“Try for a short close date as part of the deal. In thirty days I can show you a bunch of great houses around here to buy with that cash.”
She sorted out bottles of cleaning fluid and put them back on the cart. “You could show me a double-wide trailer and it would look fine at this point. Houses are a lot of upkeep and yard work.”
“Houses are permanence and roots.”
“You’re going to enjoy house hunting with me, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“At least it will be an experience. I’ll call the Realtor back tonight.” Selling the house at a fair price would suit her just fine right now. She wanted D.C. wrapped up and no longer a part of her life; she wanted the last threads to that painful past to be cut for good.
“It’s going to sell. That chapter in life will close.”
She looked over to see Bruce watching her. She smiled. “You know me too well.” She dug keys out of her pocket and her mood lightened. “Have you heard this baby purr yet?”
“I’ll go lift the warehouse door and let you back it outside. I want a nice highway ride in it a few months from now, after the smell has at least become less than a skunk hit.”
She laughed and walked around to the driver’s-side door. She was going to enjoy teasing him about this car the next couple weeks. The smell wasn’t that bad.
* * *
Rae glanced into the rearview mirror and confirmed Bruce was behind her. The drive to Justice seemed faster now, but she looked at the dash and saw her speed was safely just below the speed limit. It just felt faster in this car.
She would enjoy house hunting with Bruce. He wanted her around and settled, and she wondered again about the intensity she picked up from him about that. She reached down and turned the radio on, then started scanning for interesting stations and presetting them into the entertainment system. The car handled like a dream, but the smell really was rough, even under the layer of deodorizer that dominated right now.
Before I Wake Page 22