Every Breath You Take: A Novel (A Kristen Conner Mystery Book 2)

by M. K. Gilroy

  No way am I going to look at Don. I keep a placid face.

  “One reason Dad asked if you thought Penny was innocent is not something he’s comfortable bringing up,” Durham, Jr. says. “None of us are. But there is the matter of Jack’s share in the Durham Family Trust. We have provisions on how to divide and assign it should any of us pass away, but we do want to know if Martin will be in a position to contest the disposition—but only if she is guilty.”

  “If she’s guilty, wouldn’t she lose any claim?” I ask.

  “Not necessarily,” McGill answers. “But that’s for another time and discussion.”

  “But there’s nothing more you can say?” Junior asks.

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate for us to share any particulars of the case,” I say.

  “Son, she already answered that question,” Durham, Sr. says with a smile.

  “We are sorry for your loss, sir,” Don says, now visible again. “We will continue to do everything in our power to seek justice in your son’s death. Unless there’s anything else you or Robert, Jr. have to say—”

  “No, no,” Durham, Sr. says, rising to his feet. “We’ve taken valuable time from you and don’t want to be a burden to the system.”

  We all give polite nods, smiles, and handshakes. As Don and I are exiting the office, Senior calls after me—

  “Don’t forget what I said, Detective Conner. Consider that an official offer to join the firm of Durham and Durham.”

  Once in the elevator, I finally look at Don. He pops his eyes wide and shakes his head.

  58

  “CONNER,” I SAY, answering a late night call on my home phone.

  “Can we talk?”

  “Dell?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Why are you calling me after 11:00 on a work night?”

  I have to change my home number. Or drop it.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “That’s beside the point. You could have.”

  “You’re right. I probably just wanted to hear your voice.”

  Ugh.

  “Would your fiancée feel comfortable with you calling to hear my voice?”

  “We split up.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but that has nothing to do with me. Good luck, good night, and don’t call back.”

  “Kristen—”

  Oh boy, oh boy. Is Dell my stalker? No way would he put a video camera in my home. Would he? Should I have reported him?

  • • •

  “No! I didn’t kill him. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t make a good suspect. Same as you if certain events were made known.”

  “Did you ever read Agatha Christie mysteries when you were a kid?”

  “I don’t remember. I saw a movie from one of her books once. What’s this got to do with anything?”

  “I had to read Murder on the Orient Express in eighth or ninth grade at good old Farnsworth. All I can remember about the book was that in the end, everyone had a reason to murder the guy—and everyone worked together to do it. They all got to stab him once.”

  “Okay, you need to chill out. You’re getting way too philosophical on this. Yeah, about everyone who knew Jack had a reason to kill him. But you didn’t do it and I didn’t do it. So it wasn’t all of us.”

  Derrick knew him well and didn’t believe him.

  59

  “OKAY, OKAY, I’M sold,” Blackshear says. “I’ll take what you got to Legal. But doesn’t mean we’ll get your search warrant, Conner.”

  “Do we even need a warrant?” Don asks. “She’s still under arrest for murder even if the judge did grant bail. He put the tether on her and qualified her release as house arrest. I would think we have free access.”

  “You might be right,” Blackshear says. “But we aren’t doing anything that jeopardizes evidence if Kristen is right. I think this is a procedural nuance and I don’t want to make any assumptions on it. She’s not been convicted of a crime and she has rights.”

  “She also has a steady stream of visitors now,” I say. “I think we’re late as it is. She’s not a dummy. If she has anything hanging around that might incriminate her, we need to get our hands on it before she makes it disappear.”

  “So now you think she’s guilty?” Blackshear asks. “I thought you were the one that questioned her arrest even before the Ferguson murder.”

  “I don’t know,” I answer. “I go back and forth. But I know she is her mother’s daughter. Smart. Savvy. Strategic. If Bobbie had a hidden safe behind built-in drawers in her closet, it wouldn’t surprise me if Penny has one too. And there may be something in there that helps us put the final nail in her coffin—or nail whoever murdered both Durham and Bobbie. Even if she didn’t do it, she knows something. She’s in the middle of every aspect of this case. Or these cases.”

  “Like I said, I’m sold,” Blackshear repeats. “But the basis of the warrant is highly speculative. I’m just letting you know it may not be granted.”

  We all nod and stand.

  “By the way,” Konkade says as I head for the door, “we are going to look into the Dell Woods angle on your home invasion. After what happened this summer, you should have told us immediately that he has attempted to resume communication with you. I, for one, was never convinced he was as innocent as he looked.”

  “It was just two calls.”

  “Two too many,” he says.

  I’ve been a little peeved at Konkade during this murder case. I still think he went to the boss a couple times to rein me in on my suspicions. But his concern and follow-up on Woods means he is officially forgiven in my book.

  • • •

  This is impossible. I have no Barbara Ferguson to direct operations and no Tracy to perform makeup magic to get me ready for a date. I don’t know what you wear to a James Taylor concert. Sounds casual to me. But it’s at the Odium and that’s fancy. I’ve decided on the spray-on jeans, a silk blouse, and every piece of jewelry I’ve ever bought. It’s all cheap. Who knows, it might actually work. I’ve been working on my makeup for an hour. I can’t remember how Tracy did it. I don’t think it’s looking right. But it’s the best I can do. I crane forward and look at my eyelashes. I run the brush through again. I’ve got a couple clumps I can’t get smoothed out.

  My phone vibrates and falls off the toilet tank again. I’m going to crack that screen if I put it back up there again. That’s five straight calls. Only my mom hits the green call button as many times as necessary to get me to answer it. Pick up? Explain I can’t talk and get off immediately? Call her in the morning to tell her I’m sorry but I was working? She won’t be happy either way.

  The vibration stops. And begins again. My phone is sliding across the bathroom floor. I scoop it up and swipe the screen. Klarissa. That’s strange. Something must be up, particularly since she’s on-air tonight.

  “Hey, Sis.”

  “Where are you, Kristen?”

  “I’m at home, Klarissa, but getting ready to go out. I’m working tonight.”

  She pauses. I hear a sniffle.

  “You got to get off your shift right now. Kaylen fell. Her water broke. They don’t know if the baby is okay. She just got picked up by an ambulance. Jimmy is with her. She’s on her way to Advocate Christ Medical Center in Oak Park.”

  Oh, dear God.

  “I’m on my way.”

  “No. I told Jimmy you would head to their house and pick up Kendra and James. I need to confirm you are on the way. He’s worried sick and pulled two directions. I’ve been on the phone with Kendra and she has everything under control at the moment but it’s just the two kids there.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m stuck in traffic driving to the hospital. I’ve been up in Evanston taping a story. It’ll take me an hour to get there but at least ninety minutes to get to their house.”

  “Okay. I’ll be out the door in five minutes or less. Where’s Mom?”

  “She did one of her field trips with the senio
r adults from church. She’s in a van driving back from some conference downstate. I said too much to her and she’s nearly hysterical. I’ll call her back and try to calm her down. Just go get the kids and call me back.”

  • • •

  I can pick up Kendra for a soccer game in twenty minutes on a Saturday morning. Friday night traffic is already brutal. It’ll take at least forty-five. I took a minute to scrub my face clean, squirm out of the spray-on jeans, throw on jeans I can breathe in with a cotton pullover, grab my duck boots, and put on a medium weight coat. My Miata fired right up and I was weaving through traffic in six minutes. I called Kendra and told her I was on my way and to sit tight.

  “Aunt Kristen, is Mommy and baby Kelsey okay?”

  “They’re going to be fine, honey,” I told her.

  They are.

  I hit Derrick’s number. No answer. I push one and leave a message.

  “I have a family emergency, Derrick. No time to explain. But I have to cancel on tonight. I’ll call tomorrow and explain.”

  I hit Don’s number and Vanessa answers.

  “Sorry to bother on you on a Friday night, Vanessa, but is Don available?”

  “You never bother me, girlfriend. Everything okay?”

  “Not really. Kaylen fell and her water broke. She’s with Jimmy in an ambulance. I’m on my way to pick up the kids. I was supposed to be working an assignment tonight. I wanted to let Don know so he could pass the message along the phone chain.”

  “He’s in the shower. Hold on and let me get him.”

  “Just have him call me when he’s done. I have a couple more calls to make and I’ll pick up when his number pops up.”

  “I am so sorry Kristen. We’ll be praying. And you know everything is going to be okay. Us women are indestructible when we’re carrying a little one.”

  “Thanks for the prayers, Vanessa. I’m sure you’re right.”

  I check back in with Kendra and she’s fine, but lets me know James isn’t obeying her and she’s in charge.

  “Tell him to behave or he’s in big trouble with Aunt Kristen.”

  She laughs at that. Good. She’s handling things fine.

  I hit Mom’s number.

  “What’s happening? Any news?” she says the second she picks up.

  “Plenty of people praying and it’s all going to be fine, Mom. I’m just making sure you are okay.”

  “I’m breathing. But a semi turned over on I-57 and we have come to a complete standstill.”

  “Well relax and keep praying. There’s nothing you could do here anyway. Klarissa is meeting Jimmy and Kaylen at Advocate Christ. I’m picking up Kendra and James. We’ve got everything under control. Just relax and one of us will call you when we have some news.”

  She starts to cry as Derrick’s number pops up.

  “Mom, I’m going to take this call. I’ll call back when I have something. I promise.”

  I feel rotten hitting the button to transfer to Derrick’s call.

  “Conner.”

  “I didn’t think you really wanted to go out with me.”

  “Listen Derrick, I am so sorry I had to call at the last minute to cancel. But my sister is on the way to the hospital and I’ve got to pick up the kids and get over there.”

  “I figured the dog ate your homework.”

  “Would I make something like this up?”

  I think there is strain in my voice. Things are happening too fast and I don’t have time for Derrick right now.

  “I suppose not. I am in the back of a limo on my way over to your place. I was on the phone when you called.”

  “Well, again, I apologize for canceling and messing up your concert plans.”

  “It’s not a problem. Listen, don’t even pretend to protest, but I know you were going out with me to see if you could get me to talk about Jack’s murder—or maybe tonight’s agenda was Barbara. I’m not offended. I would do the same thing if I were in your shoes. It makes sense. Derrick drinks a lot . . . and when he does, boy does he start talking.”

  He’s been drinking. A lot.

  “I’m not sure I’m in the mood for James Taylor any way,” he continues. “I may switch plans and go see an old friend.”

  I don’t have time for this, but he’s babbling. Who knows what he will say.

  “Derrick, can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you know who killed Jack?”

  He is silent.

  “Derrick?”

  The phone is dead. I’ll tell Don to go find him and follow up. That’s him calling back now.

  “Hey, Don.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “I wish I knew, but I haven’t heard anything yet. Klarissa said Kaylen fell and they’re worried about the baby.”

  “Oh, man. Tell everyone we’re praying.”

  “I will. Sorry to interrupt your Friday night. I just got off the phone with Derrick. I let him know I had to cancel tonight because of Kaylen. If you could let Blackshear, Konkade, and everyone else know what happened I’d appreciate it.”

  “No problem. We’re staying in and watching a family movie.”

  I sigh.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I did talk to Derrick—he’s drunk and he’s talking—at least he was until I asked him if he knew who murdered Jack. Someone needs to find him and see if he’ll keep yammering.”

  Now it’s his turn to sigh.

  “I’m on it.”

  “Thanks, Don. I owe you big time. I have to get off. Kendra is calling me.”

  “Go—and tell everyone we’re praying.”

  “I will.” Sorry to mess with your Friday night. I know you haven’t had many nights home lately.”

  I hit the transfer button again.

  “Hey Miss Kendra—what’s shaking?”

  “James still isn’t listening.”

  “I’m not very far away,” I say. “Tell him to get his soccer stuff, some pajamas, and his pillow. You all are going to spend the night with me.”

  “Can we see Mommy at the hospital?”

  “We’ll see. We don’t know when Baby Kelsey is going to pop out. So it might be tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” she says with a sniffle.

  The princess is old enough to be worried.

  “And Kendra?”

  “Yes, Aunt Kristen?”

  “Tell James to pack a toothbrush or he’ll have stinky breath.”

  She laughs and is already yelling at James when we hang up.

  • • •

  “She’s beautiful,” Klarissa says when I answer my phone in a stupor.

  I look at my clock. It’s 3:00 in the morning. I am on the far edge of my bed. I can feel Kendra’s warm breath against my neck. I let both kids sleep in my bed with me. James has kicked and squirmed his way sideways and has claimed most of the bed for himself.

  “How’s Kay?”

  “Still in a lot of pain. She wrenched her back when she twisted sideways to protect the baby when she fell. Doctor is going to x-ray her tomorrow. He thinks she chipped her hipbone. But she’s a champion. She’s all smiles.”

  “How many times did Jimmy faint?”

  “He kept his feet all evening and is holding Kelsey now. I’ve lost count, but I think he’s cried at least four times.”

  “That’s our Pastor Jimmy. Mom still there?”

  “Just left. I put her in a cab.”

  “What time can Aunt Kristen come by with the kiddos?”

  “I wouldn’t make it too early. After ten.”

  “Okay, I’ll take the kids to soccer and be there at one.”

  “Soccer?”

  “Uh, yeah. Last week of the regular season.”

  She laughs and says, “That’s our Coach Kristen.”

  Before I go back to sleep I say a short prayer.

  60

  I’M NOT SURE he’s up to the task. If you want something done right you have to do it yourself. I think that detective puts ev
eryone under her spell. I believe he’s afraid of her.

  I don’t see the magnetism. She is querulous. She has lousy taste. I don’t care how much makeup Barbara put on her, she’s just okay-looking. She is rude, difficult, awkward. Where’s the appeal? Is she a Cinderella figure? If so, Cinderella isn’t what she used to be.

  Him and her together? That would never happen in a million years. He’d get bored in a week, but she wouldn’t give him that long. He’s thirty-five-years-old but has the emotional maturity of a middle schooler. She might have the emotional maturity of a middle schooler too. Maybe they are meant to be together.

  His task is so simple. I would do it myself but it can’t come from me. It has to be him. If it came from me, the police would never believe it—and it would ruin any chances I have of joining the family.

  All he has to say to her is, “You know, Jack and his brother hated each other. I personally heard Bobby tell Jack he wished he was dead.”

  Is that so hard? And it just so happens, it’s true.

  He said he wants to help me but he isn’t sure he can do that. He says his old man would kill him—he does a lot of business with Durham, Sr.

  Everyone I’ve met since finding my mom is a case study in arrested development. If Jack had grown up, he and I could have had a relationship. That’s all I ever wanted in the first place. I just wanted my real parents to acknowledge me.

  I guess in the end Barbara tried to—and it got her killed.

  But by who?

  Maybe Derrick knows more than he’s saying and that’s why he’s afraid to call Conner.

  Derrick, just grow up. Call her.

  She lifted the rim of the large round cup with half a skinny latte left in it and took her last sip. It had passed from lukewarm to tepid. Her granola with fruit and yogurt was only half-eaten too. It was delicious but she didn’t want to put on weight in this period of confinement.

  She rose from the table gracefully. Black ankle-high boots. Sweater dress that was probably too short for the temperature outside. But she only had a one-block walk. She was near the edge of her electronic tether. She put on the fitted version of a pea jacket with a thin fringe of mink around the collar.

  Every eye having brunch with her in the Third Coast Café and Wine Bar at the corner of Dearborn and Goethe followed her steps out the front door and into the cold.