Blind Trust

by Sandra Orchard

  Tom pulled out of the police station’s parking lot and idled next to the library at the edge of the business district.

  “He just turned onto Main,” Dad reported.

  “Okay, I see his red Mustang.”

  Nagy pulled into the real estate agency’s parking lot and climbed out of his car carrying a ream of paper.

  Perfect. Tom waited until Nagy went into the building, then parked behind Nagy’s car, blocking him in. By the time Tom let himself in the side door, Nagy was waving the papers in Westby’s face.

  “This is what she’s going to use against us,” Nagy ranted. “You saw her there. If we get rid of this stuff, she’ll have nothing.”

  Westby slapped down Nagy’s arm. “You idiot,” he hissed. “You can’t dig that out. That’s the whole re—” The agent’s gaze slammed into Tom’s. “May I help you?”

  “No, go on, don’t let me interrupt.”

  Nagy spun around, his face white. He quickly tried to stuff the papers inside his jacket.

  Tom held out his hand. “I’ll take those, thanks.”

  Nagy straightened. “What are you talking about? These are mine.”

  “Oh yeah?” Tom scrutinized the top page, confirming his suspicion. “You translate them yourself?”

  “Uh, no.” He shot Westby a glance.

  The agent took a step back, hands raised in a you’re-on-your-own gesture.

  “A friend did,” Nagy improvised.

  “Friend have a name?” Tom stepped closer, crowding Nagy’s personal space. He enjoyed a moment of satisfaction when sweat popped out on Nagy’s forehead.

  “I don’t have to answer your questions,” the man blurted, not sounding all that certain.

  Tom pulled handcuffs from his pocket. “You’re right. We’ll save them for the police station.”

  “You’re arresting me? On what charges?”

  Tom clapped a cuff on Nagy’s wrist and snagged the papers he held. “We’ll start with possession of stolen property.” Tom yanked Nagy’s arms behind his back and clapped on the second cuff. “Let’s go.”

  Once outside, Nagy resisted going farther. “What about my car?”

  “Your car’s the least of your problems.” Tom glanced inside it. “But we probably shouldn’t leave your laptop on the seat where anyone might be tempted to steal it. Want me to grab it?” Might as well save Weller the trip when the warrant came through.

  Nagy fought against Tom’s hold.

  “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tom covered Nagy’s head with his hand and urged him into the backseat of his unmarked cruiser.

  “I’m not saying anything,” Nagy spat, but as Tom climbed in the front, he added, “Okay, you can grab the laptop.”

  Nagy had left the car unlocked, so Tom grabbed the laptop bag and then clicked the auto lock on the door. The man couldn’t afford to have his one remaining asset stolen. Not with where he was going.

  “I’m not saying anything,” Nagy repeated when Tom returned with the bag.

  “That’s your right.” Tom drove back to the station in silence to give Nagy a little more time to squirm over his predicament. He parked in view of two officers struggling to escort a mean-looking suspect inside and bit back the urge to threaten to throw Nagy in the same cell.

  “If you’re going to arrest me for walking into your girlfriend’s house,” Nagy seethed as Tom opened his door, “then I demand you arrest her for trespassing in mine.”

  Straining to keep his cool, Tom pulled Nagy out of the backseat. “Don’t you mean your mother’s house? Somehow I don’t think she’d mind, given that she gave Kate a key. But I’ll be sure to ask her.”

  Nagy snorted. “She’s not fit to answer questions, so the house is under my control. And Miss Adams should just learn to mind her own business.”

  Tom led him inside, beyond irritated with the guy’s overconfidence. “Yeah, she likes sticking her nose in people’s business, doesn’t she? Really irks people.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like how she defended your mom against the counterfeiting allegations, took care of your mom’s cat when she went into the nursing home, asked you to talk to the nurses about her meds when your mom took that sudden turn for the worse.” Tom let out a disgusted snort. “What kind of woman does stuff like that?”

  Nagy clamped his mouth shut.

  Tom flagged the desk sergeant. “Weller got a warrant for Mr. Nagy’s laptop?”

  Weller appeared around the corner. “Right here.”

  “What’s going on?” Nagy struggled against Tom’s hold. “What do you want with my laptop?”

  “Interrogation room open?” Tom asked the desk sergeant.

  “Use C.”

  Tom motioned Nagy into the six-by-six room with nothing but a table and a couple of metal chairs in the middle and a two-way mirror on one wall. “Sit.”

  Tom sat opposite him and read him his rights.

  “I don’t need no lawyer. I’m not guilty of anything she didn’t do to me first.”

  “Uttering threats?”

  “I told her to mind her own business. So what? What’s that got to do with my laptop?”

  For someone who had nothing to hide, he seemed awfully worried about them looking at his laptop.

  “All I want to do is sell a piece of property so I can take care of my mother. Is a judge going to throw me in jail for that?”

  “You think the judge will be as understanding when we play that little software program you sent Kate? With his face burning on the screen and blood-red letters flashing ‘You’ll pay’?”

  “Huh?” Nagy was a pretty good actor, because he looked like he had no idea what Tom was talking about. “I didn’t send her any program. I don’t even know her email address.”

  “So you’re saying we won’t find any record of it on your computer?”

  “No.”

  Tom laid the fax sheet from the internet provider on the table between them. “According to this you did. The email originated from your IP address.”

  “Well, I didn’t send it!”

  “Then I guess our computer forensics investigator won’t find anything on your computer.”

  Nagy’s leg took up a nervous bounce. “Our apartment has wireless internet. Anyone could’ve sent something from it.”

  Tom gritted his teeth, prayed Weller found something on the computer. “You password protect your wifi?”

  “Sure, but my kid knows the password, which means half his friends probably know it.”

  “Any of them have a grudge against Miss Adams?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” Nagy drilled his finger into the table. “I’m telling you that I didn’t do it.”

  Tom sat back in his chair and scraped his unshaven jaw. As much as he hated to admit it, he believed the guy. And if Nagy wasn’t behind the threat, then whoever was, was still out there. Tom glanced at his phone, uneasiness rippling through his chest. He thought he’d have heard something from Kate by now. She said she’d try to isolate the nutmeg in the mix first thing. He texted her. “You okay?”

  Tom laid his cell phone on the table and looked at Nagy, who’d grown increasingly fidgety over the prolonged silence. “Tell me about the counterfeit money.”

  “What are you talking about? The money my mother gave Kate?”

  “And your lawn mowing service. And your housekeeper’s nephew.” Tom leaned back and crossed his arms. “And the money you used to pay for your plumbing supplies the Saturday before last.”

  “That wasn’t counterfeit.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What are you trying to do? Pin all your unsolved cases on me because I upset your girlfriend?”

  “Watch it!” Tom tamped down his anger, uncomfortably aware of the video camera behind the two-way mirror. He tugged at his collar, wishing there was a window they could open in the stuffy room.

  It felt like the Molly Gilmore interrogation all over again. Nagy wasn’t singing like Tom had hoped. No
t even sweating. And the reality was that if the computer search came up empty, they had nothing strong enough to give him more than a court appearance notice.

  Tom’s phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at the screen, then at the mirror behind him. Kate’s here? He strode to the door in two short strides. “Excuse me a minute.”

  Weller stood in the hall.

  “Where’s Kate?”

  Weller handed him a counterfeit twenty.

  Tom gave it a cursory glance. “What’s this?”

  “Kate’s supervisor and her assistant both verified her story about the deleted file on the computer. They claim it was a prank.”

  “I never doubted it,” Tom glanced past him to Hutchinson escorting Kate their way. She wouldn’t be happy to learn he didn’t have enough to hold Nagy. Tom lowered his voice. “Tell me you have something I can use in there.”

  “I’m still reviewing his internet searches,” Weller said. “But it doesn’t look like he sent Kate the email.”

  Just great. “Then bring in the kid for questioning.”

  Kate beamed as she and Hutchinson joined them. But the tired lines and dark smudges around her eyes gave away the toll yesterday’s cyber threat and break-in had taken on her. She proudly held out a paper. “That’s the list of everything in Verna’s tea, including dangerously high levels of nutmeg.” She covered the page with a second one. “And this is the official ingredient list from Beth of what should’ve been in the mix. No nutmeg.”

  “Good work.”

  “I suggested we pick up the comparative at the tea shop,” Hutchinson said.

  Weller shook his head. “A lawyer will get that evidence thrown out in a heartbeat.”

  Tom curled the papers in his hand. “But so far Nagy hasn’t asked for one.” He winked at Kate. “You can wait in the next room if you like and watch the interrogation.” At least then he’d know she was safe.

  “I’d love to.” The look in her eyes—a mix of gratitude and confidence in him—took away his breath.

  He tipped the papers in salute. “Thanks for this.”

  “C’mon.” Hutchinson caught Kate by the elbow. “You can wait in here.”

  Tom strode back into the room, shaking his head at Nagy.

  “What?” Nagy’s gaze darted to the papers in Tom’s hands.

  Tom straddled the chair opposite him and laid the papers on the table with a disturbed sounding tut.

  “Why’d you put nutmeg in your mother’s tea?”

  Sweat broke out on Nagy’s upper lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Tom waited, confident he’d given Nagy enough rope to hang himself with.

  “I—” Nagy’s fingers rat-a-tatted over his lips as if trying to hold back the lie Tom suspected was coming. “A jar tumbled out of Mom’s cupboard when I was collecting her tea to bring to her. It was a spice—could have been nutmeg. Some may have spilled into her tea.”

  “Some?”

  Nagy fidgeted. Glanced at the mirror behind Tom’s head. Swallowed. “How was I supposed to know it would hurt her?”

  “What makes you think it did?”

  “You just said—” Nagy clamped his mouth shut.

  “In high doses, it causes nutmeg psychosis with symptoms similar to dementia. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  Nagy stared at Tom with the look of a scared kid arrested for the first time. Then he planted his hands on the table and surged to his feet. “Are you accusing me of poisoning my mother? How dare you!”

  “Sit down.” Tom narrowed his eyes at Nagy until he sat, then laid out the scenario much the same way Kate had speculated.

  Nagy grew paler by the second.

  “A blood test should confirm elevated levels in your mother’s blood,” Tom concluded. He made a mental note to order one if Hutchinson, watching the interrogation through the mirror, wasn’t already on it.

  The last of the color drained from Nagy’s face. “I want my lawyer.”

  Tom reined in the grin that tugged at his lips. “Yeah, thought you might.”

  Kate stood by the two-way mirror in the adjoining room and waited uncertainly. After what that other detective had said about their evidence, she was pretty sure that it couldn’t be good that Brian had asked for his lawyer.

  “We can wait in the hall,” Hutchinson suggested.

  Tom and the other detective were having an animated discussion, and Tom seemed surprisingly pleased. He must have read her concern on her face, because his expression swiftly changed.

  “Hey.” He touched her cheek, glanced at Hutchinson still standing nearby, and let his arm drop, catching her hand instead. “It’ll work out. You’ll see.” His reassuring hand squeeze buoyed her hopes.

  “But you said our evidence wouldn’t stand up in court.”

  Tom smiled. “Didn’t you hear him admit to putting nutmeg in her tea?”

  “Yeah, but not deliberately.”

  Tom waved the sheet of paper the other detective had handed him. “The trail of internet searches into the toxicity of nutmeg found on Nagy’s computer suggests otherwise.”

  “Really?” She chewed on her bottom lip. “But he’ll argue he looked it up after spilling the nutmeg.”

  Tom grinned. “The search dates back to three months ago—around the time he learned of a buyer interested in his mother’s property. I’m sure that’ll be enough to convince the judge to revoke his power of attorney.”

  “Oh, Tom, that’s wonderful!” Without thinking, Kate threw her arms around him. Then, realizing how bad hugging him in the police station might look, she started to pull back.

  But Tom unashamedly closed his arms around her and let out the most contented-sounding sigh.

  Feeling like she’d come home, she returned his hug. In his arms, she felt safe, cared for, not alone—things she hadn’t felt in a very long time, probably not since before her father’s arrest twenty years ago. But more amazing than that, she felt cherished. Lord, thank you for bringing this man into my life.

  He pulled back just a little and tenderly cupped his hand at her neck. “You did good.”

  She snuck a glance in Hutchinson’s direction, but he’d disappeared. The hall was empty save for them. Tom’s thumb brushed her jawline, sending a wonderful ripply feeling through her chest.

  “If not for you, Verna could have lost everything to Brian’s schemes.”

  Kate shuddered at the suggestion. “I’m glad she’s feeling better, but she thinks Brian hung the moon. This news is going to devastate her.”

  “It’s a good thing she has friends like you to cheer her up.” The affection in Tom’s gaze left her breathless. That and the way his gaze dropped to her lips.

  A ruckus down the hall broke the magical moment.

  Tom dropped his hand and took a step back. Kate pressed her back to the wall, wishing she were invisible.

  Weller had Greg Nagy by the arm. “He was coming cooperatively until he saw you two.”

  Greg yanked against Weller’s hold. “I want to talk to my dad.”

  “You explained his rights, that he’s not under arrest, we only wish to question him?” Tom asked Weller. At his nod, Tom said to Greg, “I’m afraid your dad’s in custody. Would it be okay to invite your mom to sit in instead?”

  Greg’s face went white. “He didn’t do it.”

  If Tom questioned what “it” Greg referred to, he didn’t let on. “Why don’t you tell us how it happened and we’ll get this mess sorted out.”

  Greg snatched his ball cap from his head and curled it in his hand. “Oh man, he’s going to kill me.”

  Tom motioned toward an empty conference room. “Why don’t we sit in here and you can explain what happened?”

  As Weller escorted him in, Kate whispered, “I guess I should go?”

  “No. Stay.” Tom caught her by the wrist, his fingers reassuringly caressing the tender underside. “I suspect this concerns you.”

  The warmth of his invitation—or ma
ybe the depth of his concern—did funny things to her heart. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”

  Tom paused at the door. “Greg hasn’t been charged with anything. We’re just talking.”

  Kate noticed he didn’t lower his voice and wondered if the reassurance had been as much for Greg’s benefit as hers. As she stepped inside the room, Weller reiterated to the sixteen-year-old his rights and asked him if he was sure he was okay with answering a few questions, on tape, without a parent or attorney present.

  “We could invite your pastor or perhaps an uncle to join you instead,” Weller offered. “Because you need to understand that what you say can be used in court.”

  “I understand. I’m not stupid,” Greg groused. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  After hearing his dad was in custody for what appeared to be his own crime, Kate didn’t imagine the boy was all that anxious to call any adult who might deride him.

  Greg signed the required waiver Weller presented without hesitation. He didn’t even wait until Tom took a seat before he started spilling his guts. “It was Pedro’s idea. He—”

  Tom stopped him with a raised hand. “Which part exactly was Pedro’s idea?”

  “Sending her the email.” Greg darted a sheepish glance her direction.

  At least he seemed ashamed of himself. That was a start, but her stomach still churned at how much he must hate her to be party to such a thing in the first place.

  “I was ranting about her being on Gran’s property because Dad promised me a dirt bike when the deal went through, and I was afraid she’d mess it up.”

  The fact that childish greed, not hate, had motivated him probably should’ve made her feel a little better, but it didn’t. In a way, it was more scary.

  “So there’s already a buyer interested in the property?” Tom asked, and Kate scrambled to catch up to the conversation.

  “Sure. Some real estate guy stopped by Gran’s months ago.” Greg slapped his ball cap back on his head and relaxed a little, apparently believing he was off the hot seat.

  “When was this?”

  “April, I think.” Greg fussed with the brim of his hat, shifted it sideways. “But she said no right out. He tried to tell her how much money she’d make, but she said she didn’t need it and shut the door on him.”