Heard it Through the Grapevine

by Lizbeth Lipperman

  Since Colt only kept employee files in his office, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out they were getting too close for comfort. He had to find out exactly how close they were.

  Watching Danny shut the door to the copy room set off more warning bells in Phil’s head and more heat in his gut, especially when the kid walked past his desk without making eye contact.

  Danny was like a younger brother to him and always joked around. Plus nobody ever made their own copies. That’s what Maddy was for.

  Something was definitely up.

  Romano breathed deeply, wondering what his next move should be. He hadn’t given much thought to “what if,” confident he’d covered all the bases. He hadn’t counted on that weasel Thornton getting himself killed.

  He glanced up as Danny returned to his desk and fished in the drawer for his car keys before exiting the station with a large envelope in his hand. Phil waited several minutes, then grabbed his own keys and followed Danny out. Before he jumped to any conclusions, he had to find out where the kid was headed.

  Halfway to Shakerville, Phil’s heart began to pound. He was definitely busted.

  Keeping a safe distance behind Danny’s cruiser, his breathing picked up a notch. By the time they were in the city limits of the small Texas suburb, a band of sweat had broken out across his forehead.

  When Danny pulled into the convenience store and walked in with the envelope, Phil was perspiring so heavily he switched to air conditioning despite the temperature being in the low sixties.

  Parking his own cruiser far enough away so Danny wouldn’t spot him, he debated whether to risk calling the number again. He decided it didn’t make much difference. If Danny was here in Shakerville flashing his picture around, the likely scenario was they’d already discovered the other calls.

  With shaking fingers he dialed the number.

  “What now?” the gruff voice asked.

  “They’re on to me.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Did you hear me?”

  The man cleared his throat. “You sure?”

  “I’m sitting outside the place where I bought your phone. If my guess is right, one of my coworkers is in there right now trying to get a positive ID from the clerk.”

  “Shit! How could you be so stupid?”

  Romano’s anger flared. “You didn’t give me time to come up with much of a plan,” he shouted before he took a calming breath. “I thought there was no way they’d look in Shakerville.”

  “Christ, Romano, I’m paying you because you’re supposed to be a veteran cop. Even a rookie has better sense than that. You should have driven to Fort Worth when I asked you to pick me up a phone.” Another pregnant pause. “Can they trace it to me?”

  “No, it’s registered to a dead guy out of state.”

  “At least you were smart enough to do that. So, what now?”

  “I need to disappear. I’ll call in with some excuse about my mother in Oklahoma. Winslow knows she’s been under the weather. That will give me some time to figure out how I can explain the phone.”

  “It’s your word against theirs.”

  “That’s true, but I still think I should get out of town for a while,” Romano said. “To date, I haven’t seen a penny of my cut. I can’t wait any longer for it.”

  “You’ll get it when the deal is made, and I get mine. Don’t go running scared on me. Not when we’re so close to the big payoff.”

  The sweat was pouring down Phil’s cheeks now. He jacked up the cool air and positioned the blowers directly onto his face. “I can’t promise how long I’ll last if Winslow interrogates me. He knows me too well. That’s why I need to leave now.”

  Romano knew he was playing with fire. By all accounts, the man on the other end had killed Thornton. The Waco man had probably put pressure on him exactly the way Phil was doing now.

  But he wasn’t afraid. He knew how to watch his own back. No matter what happened, he needed cash now. His wife had already left him once, taking the kids to her sister’s after one of their many screaming sessions over money. He hadn’t meant to hit her, but when she accused him of not being a man because he couldn’t support his own family, he’d lost it.

  What did the woman want from him? He was already working two jobs. He’d even stopped taking the expensive blood pressure pills the doctor had given him when the samples ran out. How much more could he do? She needed to quit buying shit on the Internet.

  “Meet me at that old abandoned warehouse out by Vineyard Medical Center,” the man instructed. “Stay calm and we’ll figure this out.”

  “Only if you bring my money.”

  “I can’t get that much together right now, but I’ll give you what I can. The rest will be waiting when you get back into town.”

  Romano hung up just as Landers pulled away from the convenience store. He rolled down the car window and stuck his head out. When the cold air hit him he breathed deeply, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his uniform. Thinking he might be coming down with something, he popped a couple more antacids before easing into traffic several cars behind Danny.

  It probably didn’t matter if Danny saw him or not.

  His entire body jerked when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and laid it on the passenger seat. He already knew why Colt was calling. He was in way over his head.

  He touched his revolver still in the holster, hoping he didn’t have to use it, but willing to do that if it become necessary. When he came to the outskirts of Vineyard, he turned off and headed toward the south end of town and the empty warehouse.

  Suddenly, his chest felt like a brick building had fallen on him, and he twisted the front of his shirt in his fist. The police cruiser veered off the double lane highway and plunged into a culvert, sending his cell phone crashing to the floor out of reach. The last thought in Phil Romano’s mind before his world went black was how badly he’d fucked up his life.

  _____

  Colt arrived at the Moretti house just as Flanagan and Rogers drove up and parked beside him. All three rushed into the lavish house that once belonged to Jerry’s grandfather. A quick glance toward the living room showed nothing out of the ordinary except someone had eaten popcorn, probably watching TV.

  “Back here,” Roxy’s high-pitched scream summoned them. “Hurry.”

  When they walked into the master suite, Roxy Moretti was crouched in the corner, her eyes wide with terror. She pointed to the bed.

  As Colt approached, he saw Jerry Moretti on his back, his mouth open, his eyes staring grotesquely. He slipped on the gloves he kept in his pocket and felt Jerry’s neck for a pulse he knew he wouldn’t find. The body was already cold, although for a moment, Colt wondered if he’d missed the pulse. Jerry’s skin wasn’t the bluish color of a dead man.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Roxy said, her voice without emotion. “I woke up this morning, and he was dead.”

  Colt glanced at the nightstand and reached for the prescription bottle. “Did he take one of these last night?”

  “I think so,” she mumbled.

  “You think so?” Colt arched his eyebrows. “Seems like your husband taking his little blue pill would be something you were aware of.”

  Roxy stood and walked to the side of the bed, keeping her eyes on Colt. “He got home late last night. He may have taken one then.”

  “Where had he been?”

  Roxy shook her head. “I don’t know that, either. He said he had a business meeting. Left around nine. When he got home, I could tell he’d had a lot to drink.” She turned and walked to the chair on the other side of the room and sat down. “Liquor always makes him horny. Unfortunately, it also makes him—not always ready, you know?”

  The last thing Colt wanted to discuss was Jerry’s inability to get it up. “So, he took a pill. Then what?”

  “I pretended to be asleep. I can’t stand him crawling all over me with his beer breath.”
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  Colt couldn’t stop from thinking her past profession should have prepared her for anything, but he kept that thought to himself. “Did you have sex?”

  Again, Roxy shook her head. “Usually, it takes about forty minutes for Jerry to get a hard—to get ready,” she said. “I had a busy day yesterday and came home exhausted. I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up this morning, I knew something was wrong. Jerry never misses an opportunity.” She lowered her eyes but there were no tears. “He looks so gross.”

  Colt focused on Moretti, spotting a large bruise on his right forearm. Bending down for a better look, he noticed the faint but distinct odor of almonds radiating from the body. He straightened and made eye contact with Roxy. He could have sworn her lips tipped in a smile. Before he could pursue that further, Mark Lowell and the CSI team filed into the bedroom.

  “We really do have to stop meeting like this, Winslow,” Mark Lowell said as he donned his gloves and opened the three-way bag carrying his equipment. A minute later, he glanced at Colt. “You thinking the same thing I am?”

  Colt nodded, then turned and strode out of the room to the living area where Flanagan and Rogers were already checking things out. “Call Maddy and have her get a search warrant,” he ordered Flanagan. “Then you and Rogers tear this house apart again.”

  “What are we looking for, boss?”

  “Cyanide.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  COLT TRIED ROMANO’S NUMBER again. Since Danny had called with news that the convenience store owner had positively identified Phil as the one who’d purchased the prepaid phone, he’d tried to reach him several times with no answer.

  The intercom buzzed.

  “Lab needs to talk to you, Colt. Said you’ve been waiting on them.”

  “Thanks, Maddy.” He picked up the phone and clicked the blinking light. “Winslow.”

  “You were right about blood on the latch from your horse stable, Sheriff. We had enough to run a DNA.”

  Colt’s breathing quickened as he anticipated hearing who had blown up his guest house. “Were you able to get a hit when you ran it through the data base?”

  “Unfortunately, no match. The only thing I can tell you is that it’s female DNA.”

  “Shit!” That probably meant Gracie had scratched herself opening the door.

  Another dead end.

  “Thanks, Pete. Let me know if you get anything from the other samples.”

  Colt stared at the phone a full minute after he disconnected. This presented the perfect opportunity to get a cheek sample from Gracie without anyone wondering why. He could say he wanted to verify the dried blood was hers.

  He twisted his head from side to side to massage the knot on the back of his neck that had popped up when he got back from Moretti’s. The niggling thought wouldn’t go away that, with Gracie’s DNA in hand, he could run over to Fort Worth and run his own sample to compare with hers. Whether he was her biological father or not would no longer be driving him crazy.

  He chased that thought from his head. He didn’t need some damn blood test to prove he was her father. He’d been the one who had sat up all night with her when she was so sick with the flu she could barely stand to throw up. He’d attended all her school activities, all her soccer games just like the other parents. He’d even started researching to prepare for her sex questions, which he knew were right around the corner.

  Gracie was his, pure and simple.

  Maddy’s voice on the intercom jarred him from his thoughts. “Jeff Flanagan needs to talk to you.”

  Colt picked up the phone. “Find anything?”

  “Oh, yeah!” The cop chuckled. “Lowell said he was pretty sure the pills were laced with cyanide. Something about a faded color and an almond smell. He won’t know for sure for a few more days, but we found a small bottle of the poison.”

  Colt sat upright in his chair. “Where?”

  “Tucked behind some cans in the pantry. Unfortunately, CSI couldn’t lift any prints. The bottle was clean.”

  “Did you confront Roxy with it?”

  “She denied ever seeing it before. We Mirandized her, and we’re on our way in now.”

  “You and Tom did a great job, Jeff. I’ll see you when you get here.”

  “There’s something else, Colt.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We found a key to a hidden safe in the bedroom.”

  “Tell me you found the prepaid phone with Moretti’s prints all over it.”

  “No, but there was a sealed copy of his will and a bunch of financial papers.”

  “What’s so unusual about that?”

  “Apparently, Moretti never bothered to change his will when he married Roxy.” Flanagan cleared his throat. “He left everything to your ex-wife.”

  _____

  David Rivera drove down Teasdale toward Shakerville Medical Center, unsure what his next move should be. About two miles before the turnoff, he saw flashing lights ahead and slowed. As he approached, he could make out two ambulances and a fire truck on the side of the road. When he got close enough, he saw a Vineyard police cruiser wedged between the culvert and the cement barrier.

  He rolled down the window. “Somebody get hurt?”

  The fireman directing traffic walked over to the car, apparently noticing the city emblem on the side. “A police officer went off the road and hit the culvert. He took a pretty good hit to his head, but we think he may have had a heart attack before he went off the road. They’re working on him now.”

  “Do you know the officer’s identity?” David held his breath as he flashed his city hall ID.

  The young man handed it back to him. “Lieutenant Phillip Romano, according to his driver’s license.”

  David reacted quickly to keep the smile off his face. “Is he dead?”

  “Not yet, but it doesn’t look good. The paramedics are giving him CPR now.”

  Rivera lifted his foot off the brake and glided forward. “I’ll say a prayer for the guy,” he said. “Y’all are doing a great job out here.”

  He drove about a mile down the road before making a U-turn and heading back to town. When he passed the accident scene again, two paramedics were lifting the stretcher into the ambulance.

  Although he couldn’t see Romano’s face clearly, it was obvious the sheet was not pulled over his head.

  Damn it!

  He watched for a few seconds as the EMTs continued working on the cop. Unfortunately, the hospital was only two minutes away. He could only hope the fat prick kicked the bucket before he made it there.

  Rivera reached into his jacket pocket, removed the gun, and placed it back into the glove compartment.

  He wouldn’t need it after all.

  _____

  Colt stood outside the emergency room cradling Denise Romano in his arms. The doctor had just recited the usual rhetoric—the old “despite their best efforts to revive him, Phil hadn’t made it.” Probable cause of death was either a heart attack or a stroke, but the doctor wasn’t ready to declare either one without an autopsy.

  Denise trembled in Colt’s arm at the mention of a post mortem, and he pulled her closer to his chest.

  “I kept warning Phil he needed to start taking better care of his body, especially after the doctor told him his blood pressure was dangerously high.”

  Colt stiffened. This was the first he’d heard about Phil having a medical problem. He couldn’t help wondering if the added stress of the other things he was just now learning about his long-time friend hadn’t somehow contributed to his death as well.

  Colt wasn’t ready to say for sure that Phil had been involved in the murders despite the eyewitness identification. There could be a perfectly plausible reason why Romano would purchase a prepaid phone, if he was the one who actually bought it. Eyewitnesses were known to finger the wrong guy.

  “Sheriff?”

  Colt glanced up at one of the paramedics who’d worked so hard to keep Phil alive.

  “Can I talk
to you in private?”

  Colt loosened his grip on Denise and brushed away a tear sliding down her cheek. “Do you want me to get someone to drive you home? We can swing by the house with the car later.”

  She shook her head. “I need to pick the kids up from school. They …” The tears rushed down her face. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell them their father is never coming home.”

  Colt brushed her forehead with his lips. “Why don’t you let me speak to this gentleman for a minute, then I’ll send Maddy with you? She’s good with kids.”

  After Denise nodded, Colt turned and walked to the other end

  of the long hallway, away from the noise and constant flurry of activity. When he stopped by the large window overlooking the small pond in front of the hospital, he faced the paramedic. “What’d you want to talk to me about?”

  “I’m not sure if this means anything or not, but when we arrived on the scene, Lieutenant Romano was still alive.” He stopped to glance up the hall as if to make sure the widow couldn’t hear.

  “I know you guys did everything you could to save him,” Colt said.

  “He kept muttering something. His eyes were almost in a panic as he repeated it over and over.”

  Colt inhaled sharply. “Were you able to figure out what he was trying to tell you?”

  The young EMT shook his head. “It didn’t make sense to us. It sounded like he was saying ‘river’. At one point he grabbed my shirt sleeve and pulled me closer. Then he convulsed and went into cardiac arrest. He never regained consciousness.”

  River? What the hell did that mean? Vineyard didn’t even have a creek, let alone a river.

  “I appreciate you hanging around to tell me this,” Colt said. “Maybe after I think about it for a while, I can make sense of it.”

  “Or maybe he was already delirious from the bump on his head from when his car hit the concrete embankment.”

  Colt nodded. “That’s a possibility.” He patted the young man on the back. “Thanks again.” Then he walked back to Denise Romano to make sure she didn’t need anything else before he headed back to the station.