Cunning Attractions

by Christy Barritt

  My exhaustion was quickly fading as this rollercoaster adrenaline ride continued. “So how’d you find out?”

  “I said hardly anyone.” His eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

  I shifted, wondering exactly where this would go. Was this the puzzle piece I’d been missing?

  “One of the guys in the fraternity—his name is Steve—was a real smart aleck. He left his web camera on to pick up any . . . well, you know, funny business. Only no one knew it was there. When he watched the tape, he realized Munich had been there the night their frat brother died.”

  “Did he go to the police with that information?” I asked.

  Bill shook his head. “No, he went to Munich, whose family paid him off. I mean, technically, Munich wasn’t at fault. But it looks bad. It looks really bad.”

  “I agree that it looks bad,” I said. “What kind of proof do you have? Just one person’s word against the other’s?”

  Bill’s gaze locked with mine. “I have the video of Munich leaving the room. It’s time stamped and everything. I also have a copy of the check Munich’s family gave Steve for his silence.”

  I drew in a deep breath. That could definitely be incriminating. “Steve came out of the woodwork during the election? That’s suspicious in itself.”

  “You have to understand that Munich has been hand-picked for this role of presidential candidate for a long time. Even back in college there was talk about him running for office one day. Steve knew he could hang on to that evidence about Munich and that timing was everything.”

  “I guess he didn’t like Munich very much?” I asked.

  “No, not at all. Munich stole his girlfriend. It was part of the reason he’d set up the web cam in the first place. He wanted to find evidence against Munich to break him up with the girl he stole. He ended up finding something much bigger.”

  “And he came to you with this information?” I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. This was all too much. Out of my league. If Bill was right, the scope of this was bigger than everything I’d ever encountered in any investigation before.

  Bill shifted, and I could tell he was contemplating how much more to say . . . or how to best frame his lie to his advantage.

  “Bill . . .” Warning stretched through my voice.

  “Okay, okay. You know that book advance I got?”

  “Yes . . .” I already didn’t like where this was going.

  “I spent most of it on this information.” Another bead of sweat dripped from his nose.

  “So you bought it?” I heard the judgment in my voice, but I didn’t feel bad about it.

  He raised his chin, as if determined to save face despite his confession. “That’s right. And it was worth it. I’m going to shake up this election once and for all.”

  “Why did he come to you? Certainly some of the networks would have paid him more?”

  “He doesn’t trust the mainstream media. In fact, he’s my biggest fan. Or so he says.”

  Before I could ask any more questions, a scream sounded in the hallway.

  I’d recognize it anywhere. It was Katarina.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  We all darted into the hallway—because why would I want a break from the circus my life had become? No, I needed more excitement to fill my days and nights.

  To my surprise, Bill reached Katarina first.

  She was in the hallway. On the floor. Against the wall. Dazed but alive.

  In the distance, a man darted away.

  Since I could tell Katarina was shaken but okay, I darted after the man instead. Riley was right on my heels. Then he passed me. He got to the stairwell an entire thirty seconds before I did.

  All of his working out was paying off. Maybe I should look into training also, for moments just like this.

  The guy—he was wearing a black ski mask, like any good criminal would—darted over the stair railings, moving faster than I could comprehend.

  Riley stayed on his heels.

  Until a family walked into the stairwell, right between the intruder and us. Riley rammed into the wall to stop himself before he ran them over.

  The mom, dad, and two kids didn’t seem to notice the chase. Instead, the mom argued about how taking the steps was healthier than getting a free ride on an elevator. The kids whined about it. The dad looked like he’d signed out.

  “Excuse us,” Riley muttered, trying to skirt around them.

  They looked up at us like we were weapon-wielding clowns.

  I glanced down, trying to keep my eye on the man. But he was out of sight. The sound of this family’s argument drowned out any other noise.

  By the time we reached the first floor, the man was long gone. He’d most likely blended in with a huge tour group of dancers who all wore matching lime-green shirts.

  “He got away,” Riley said when I caught up with him. His chest rose and fell with healthy exertion.

  Unlike me. I heaved air in and out like a dying woman.

  I definitely needed to start training with him.

  “Did you notice anything about him?” I asked, leaning forward to open up my airways. It didn’t work.

  He shook his head as people milled around us, towing luggage behind them and gazing at the building’s tall atrium. “No. Nothing. He was dressed in black from head to toe. I’m guessing he lost that gear as soon as he got down here.”

  Of course, he did. He was no dummy. “Let’s go see if Katarina saw anything.”

  Katarina sat in my accent chair. Bill handed her a glass of water. She fanned herself with a paperback novel I’d purchased at the store. Every once in a while, she let out a little whimper that sent Bill scurrying to comfort her again.

  Riley and I stood, waiting for Adams to arrive. He was going to be thrilled to see me again. He probably hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since I’d “run into him” with that sprinkle-covered donut at the station.

  “What happened?” I asked Katarina.

  “I walk in room and man there,” Katarina said. “I get back from hot tub. No relaxed anymore.”

  “What was he doing when you walked in?” I asked.

  “He look through suitcase.”

  Could he be looking for the video Bill claimed to have? Had word leaked that Bill had it? Was that what all of this was about?

  “Is anything missing?” I asked Bill.

  “Not that I can tell.”

  “Could you tell anything about him?” I asked Katarina.

  She swung her head back and forth. “No, nothing. He wear black. He push me down and run out.”

  Great. So we still didn’t know anything. That was about on par for the course of this investigation.

  Someone knocked at the door. Detective Adams.

  “Hello . . . again.” I started. I wanted to ask about Tim, but I didn’t. Adams looked tired, had coffee breath, and crumbs hung suspended in his chin scruff. His clothes had more wrinkles than usual, and he still smelled like smoke, which made me wonder if he’d come from the fire.

  It was 2 a.m. We were all tired.

  While CSI techs checked the neighboring room for evidence, Adams questioned Katarina and then Bill and then Riley and me.

  When he finished, he stood. “I’ll check the security footage also and see what I find out. You all are making me want to retire early, by the way. I haven’t slept but eight hours since all this started.”

  “Sorry . . . ?” Did he want an apology? He had to know that none of this was my doing. Well, most of it wasn’t, at least.

  I walked him to the door. “Any updates on the fire?”

  He shook his head. “It needs to cool more before we’ll know anything for sure. There was definitely a meth lab there. We’re just not sure if it was the cause of the explosion. The flames are out, though. The building is nothing but ashes. I’m sorry, Gabby.”

  I nodded, my heart heavy. “Can you tell me anything about Tim?”

  I’d told myself I wouldn’t ask, but I had to
.

  “We’ve charged him with the manufacturing and distribution of methamphetamine.”

  My heart fell. “I see.”

  “If he’s found guilty, he may have to pay the city the cost of cleaning up this mess.”

  “That will be interesting since he has no money . . .”

  He paused, studying me. “Your dad came to visit.”

  “Did he post bail?” Speaking of no money . . . my dad hardly had money for his bills, so I doubted he could afford to get his son out of jail. Maybe Tim deserved to stay there for a while to learn his lesson.

  “No. It would be one thing if Tim had just made and distributed the drugs. But his actions put people’s lives on the line. He could be charged with arson and child endangerment, just to name a few.”

  “I know. I still can’t believe it.” My stress returned like a floodgate opening. I didn’t even have a song for it, which meant I was really, really stressed.

  “He’s lucky to have a sister like you.”

  I hadn’t expected to hear that. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re the type who doesn’t give up on people, just like you don’t give up on finding answers. He needs that now.”

  Guilt flashed through me. I had thought about giving up, if I were honest. That’s not to say I would. But I’d seen the cycle of addiction with my father’s alcoholism. I didn’t want to go through that again with Tim.

  “Of course,” I finally said. “He needs people who will always be there for him.”

  I wasn’t sure I was ready to offer anything still except anger.

  “Stay safe, Gabby. Stay safe.”

  Riley and I grabbed breakfast at the restaurant downstairs the next morning. Unbelievably, I was getting burned out on pumpkin, so I chose a cranberry muffin to have with my three cups of coffee. Riley got two hard-boiled eggs and some Greek yogurt. Protein, protein, protein.

  Riley shifted in his seat, and I knew our conversation was about to move from the daily news to something much deeper. “So, Gabby, you do understand that there are things I can’t share as an attorney, right?”

  I was wondering when the subject would come up. Last night we hadn’t had a chance to talk. After Bill and Katarina left, we both passed out from exhaustion.

  And I understood that he couldn’t share everything. Yet, at the same time, I hated knowing he was keeping things from me.

  Boundaries are essential.

  I’d shed a fresh round of tears this morning when I’d woken up and remembered my house was gone. I knew it was just stuff, but it was still harder than I’d imagined it would be. That apartment had been my safe place, and I had so many memories of my time there.

  I set my coffee down. “Yes, I understand. But that doesn’t mean I like it.”

  “If I can share anything with you, I will. I don’t like keeping things from you.”

  I raised my hand, guilt now rushing in like the tide. “Really, I know. And I know I’m having the wrong reaction. Give it some time and I’ll come to my senses.”

  He leaned back. “So what are you doing today? You don’t have a workshop, right?”

  “No, that’s tomorrow. This morning I thought I would call the insurance company, probably go shopping for a few things, possibly check on Tim. Is there anything you need me to do?”

  He pressed his lips together. “I don’t think so. I will need to purchase a few things to wear while training.”

  “That’s right. You had those expensive tennis shoes, and they had to be broken in just right.” He’d mentioned that several times, but I hadn’t given it a thought until now.

  “It’s okay. I’ll make do with whatever I can get. No big deal.” He grabbed my hand. “I know this is hard, Gabby.”

  “I feel like I’m showing a lack of faith by mourning after this.” The words felt raw but honest.

  “It’s only natural to mourn. It’s loss. And that doesn’t say anything about your faith.”

  “I keep thinking about the people I look up to. When I imagine them being in this situation, I imagine them spouting words of wisdom and inspiration.”

  “You mean, people like Leona?”

  I let out a soft breath, realizing the irony of this conversation. “Yeah, like Leona.”

  “We’re all human. We all make mistakes. We laugh. We lose. We mourn. We just can’t let those emotions get the best of us.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Riley. You always know what to say.”

  “I wish I did. Sometimes there’s nothing you can say . . .”

  I squeezed his hand. “I’m glad this happened, by the way. And by ‘this,’ I mean you and me. Not the fire, of course.”

  Rambling, Gabby. You’re rambling.

  “Me too, Gabby.” He shifted. “You still thinking about seeing Tim?”

  I shrugged, my appetite waning. “Yeah, I just don’t know if I’m ready to face him yet. That also makes me feel like a bad person. I should forgive and want to help him and utilize all the fruits of the spirit that are supposed to be ripe in my life. Instead, I want to throttle him. It’s like all my fruit is rotten.”

  “Give it time. It will come. You want to do right. That’s the first step.” He glanced at the time on his phone. “I really should take today off work.”

  I waved it off. “No, go. I know you have a lot going on, and I have a free day. I can handle things by myself for a while. I’ll call if I need anything.”

  He stood and kissed me goodbye, tossing his trash into a nearby trashcan. “The rental car should be waiting downstairs. They just texted me. I’ll check in with you later.”

  I nodded as I watched him walk away. I knew I should go upstairs and start making phone calls. But I wasn’t quite ready to do that yet.

  Instead, I grabbed my car keys. I was going to find a little closure. I drove to the grungy hotel where Greg Borski was staying.

  I stared at it a moment. His truck was out front, so he should be here.

  Was I stupid for stopping by here alone? The man had an alibi, so he was innocent, according to Adams. And I wouldn’t be abrasive. I would just ask questions. It would be more like a friendly conversation.

  With determination pulsing through me, I opened my car door. It was brisker outside today than it had been, and I wished I had my favorite sweater. Too bad my favorite sweater no longer existed.

  I strode up to Borski’s room. I pounded on his door, and he pulled it open a moment later. When he saw me, a puzzled expression came over his face.

  “You,” he muttered. “You’re . . .”

  “Gabby. The PI looking into Emma Jean’s death.”

  He started to close his door. “I don’t have to talk to you.”

  “I was locked in the freezer at your restaurant two days ago.”

  He paused and observed me again. “I didn’t do that.”

  “I didn’t say you did. In fact, I heard you have an alibi.”

  His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “Why are you here?”

  “I just have a few questions. Can I have ten minutes of your time? Please?”

  He gave me a hard stare and finally opened the door wider. “Ten minutes. But only because I have nothing better to do.”

  I slid inside the dingy hotel room. I wasn’t sure this was a good idea anymore. But I had brought my gun, just in case. Thankfully, it had been in my purse and not in my apartment.

  “Is The Crispy Biscuit done?” I asked.

  “In essence. Who’s going to want to eat there again?” He closed the door and stood in front of it with his arms crossed like a security guard who wouldn’t let me leave.

  Bad idea, Gabby. Bad idea.

  “Why did you pretend to have organic fresh food?”

  “My bills got out of control. I felt like I had no choice. If the restaurant closed down, it wasn’t just me who’d pay the price. My employees would be without jobs. I know it was low, but I was desperate.” He waved his hand around. “As you can see, I’ve done without a paycheck for a whi
le now. I can’t even make ends meet.”

  “Yet you gave Emma Jean a raise.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How did you know about that?”

  “Sarah Babble told me.”

  He muttered something underneath his breath. “Sarah. Of course. Emma Jean was threatening to go public about my hypocrisy if I didn’t give her a raise.”

  “That sounds like motive for murder to me.”

  Shouldn’t have said that, Gabby.

  “Maybe it was. But I didn’t do it. I certainly wouldn’t have hidden her body in my own restaurant. It’s clear to see that I’m being set up.”

  I couldn’t argue with that theory. “Any idea who killed her?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve thought about it over and over, and I have no idea. I mean, people didn’t like her, but that doesn’t mean they’d kill her.”

  “Is that the same reason why you didn’t fire her? Because she was holding something over your head?”

  He let out another breath. “Yeah, you could say that. You know what they say about keeping your enemies closer? She definitely felt like an enemy. She’d been slightly more pleasant since she started doing yoga.”

  “Funny, you’re the second person who’s mentioned yoga. Did that surprise you that she did that?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, she was too lazy to walk while she was at work. She’d scoot her chair all over the kitchen instead. But whatever worked for her . . .”

  “There’s one more thing I don’t understand.”

  He glanced at his watch. “You have four more minutes.”

  “Who’s the man who came here to visit you? The tall, pale guy who looks like he stepped off the pages of an Abercrombie catalog? How is he connected with Katarina?”

  His eyes widened. I’d caught him, and he knew it. But then the flames ignited in his gaze. “Have you been watching me?”

  “How else would I know you were here?” Wasn’t it obvious?

  He flung his head back and forth. “That’s none of your business.”

  “You’re getting very fired up. That usually means you’re hiding something.”

  “You’re out of line.” Veins bulged at his neck, and I knew I needed to back off.