When the dead speak sc-1

by S. D. Tooley

  Jake got up to leave, then turned back to Carl, rested his gaze on him, his brows furrowed. “Are you sure there isn’t some information you want to share with me?”

  Carl shoved his hands deep in his pants pocket, studied the patterned carpeting. For a moment, Jake thought Carl might finally tell him what was bothering him. Instead, Carl patted him on the back as he walked Jake to the door.

  “Have patience.”

  Chapter 41

  Preston walked up behind Cain. “What are you looking at?”

  Cain’s thick fingers were parting the white sheers hanging from the window in the ballroom. “There was a dark car following me from the hotel this morning.”

  “Could have been a coincidence.”

  Cain shook his head. “Maybe, maybe not. I made a detour through the shopping center and eventually lost him.”

  “Did you get a look at the driver?”

  “Dark windows. Could be cops.”

  “You are jumpy.” Preston walked over to the silver tray on the bar and poured himself a glass of orange juice. His heels clicked against the polished marble floor. “You did an excellent job in Dallas. They have made it official. My dear friend, George Abbott, died of natural causes. No witnesses. Another clean job.”

  “What about Parker Smith?”

  Preston reached into the inside pocket of his linen jacket and pulled out an envelope. “Parker is a vegetable. He’s no threat. Ames is already dead. That takes care of everyone.” He handed Cain the envelope. “There’s a little bonus in there, too. The helicopter should be coming soon. I’ll be leaving shortly for a meeting in Springfield.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “Late this evening or early morning, depending on the weather.”

  Cain watched a blue Jeep ramble up the drive. “Are you expecting company?”

  Preston looked over Cain’s shoulder. “Come.” Preston led Cain down the hallway to the living room. He motioned for him to wait around the corner in the dining room. A few minutes later, Juanita knocked on the door and announced his visitor.

  “Hope this isn’t a bad time, Mr. Hilliard,” Sam said with a somewhat monotone voice that said, I don’t really give a damn if it is. Preston extended his hand which she clasped firmly.

  “I’m leaving in a few moments. What can I do for you, Sergeant Casey?”

  Sam took a seat on the Queen Anne sofa. Preston chose a regal high-backed chair. “I’m sure you’ve read about the body discovered in the overpass.”

  “Yes. A syndicate hit, wasn’t it?” Preston smiled slightly, then added, “or was it a drug buy gone bad?” Hearing a helicopter droning nearby, he checked his watch.

  Sam watched him closely, her eyes dissecting his every move, her mind digesting and storing the information for future use. She pulled out a picture of Hap Wilson from her purse and said, “I understand that you served in the Korean War. Mushima Valley seemed to be where you made a name for yourself.”

  Preston picked up the picture of Hap and studied it. “He wasn’t one of the wounded I carried out.”

  “No?” Sam asked with an innocent, wide-eyed expression.

  “There weren’t any blacks on that killing field. I would have remembered that.”

  “You don’t recall during your tour of duty in Korea of ever seeing this man?”

  Preston gave a half-hearted laugh and tossed the picture on the coffee table in front of her. “My dear girl, that war ended over forty years ago. Where has this man been all that time? He has been reported missing from duty while the rest of us risked life and limb. And you expect anyone to have any interest whatsoever in where he has hidden himself all these years?”

  Preston pulled a piece of lint from his pants and held it up as if scrutinizing this foreign object that dared to soil his clothing. Standing up, he straightened his floral silk tie and buttoned his suit coat over his trim torso. “I saw a lot of men die in that war, Sergeant. I myself was wounded. I won’t spend one more second discussing a cowardly deserter.”

  He was ending the meeting. Sam watched him walk to the door. She picked up the picture and followed him.

  “Did you know George Abbott?”

  Preston turned, his hand on the front door knob.

  “Abbott?” He furrowed his brow in thought. “Yes, he was with me in Korea, for a brief time. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t keep in touch with anyone after Korea.” He held the front door open.

  “The Dallas police are looking into Abbott’s death as a possible homicide.”

  “Oh, really? The papers say the police closed that case.”

  “That’s what the police want the press to print.” She handed him a picture of Cain. “What about this man? His name is Cain Valenzio and it’s possible he might be tied to Abbott’s death. Maybe he has some vendetta against Korean War vets.”

  Preston grew silent. Overhead, the helicopter was sweeping around for its landing in the backyard. The updraft sent tree branches swaying.

  Sam could tell by the way his temples pulsed that she had hit a nerve. “Well, I see your ride is here.” She motioned for him to keep the picture of Cain. “Have a safe trip, Mr. Hilliard.”

  Sam smiled as she walked to her Jeep. She had ruffled his feathers, and ruffling a few feathers was always her favorite way to start out a morning.

  As the pilot carried Preston’s suit bag and briefcase onto the helicopter, Preston made a quick call.

  “You need to rein in Sergeant Casey or we are going to have problems.”

  Chapter 42

  Murphy stopped by Sam’s doorway. He didn’t wait for her to look up. He just bellowed, “Casey, I want you in my office, NOW.”

  Sam didn’t think it would take long for Preston to call Murphy. He probably called him from the helicopter. She saw the look on Jake’s face as she headed down the aisle. It was a look of, What have you done, this time?

  Murphy didn’t bother to close his door. He liked an audience when he was chewing out one of his subordinates. He planted his knuckles on his desk. “What the hell were you doing at our esteemed state representative’s house this morning?”

  “Just tying up loose ends.”

  “Loose ends on a case that’s closed?”

  “It’s routine.”

  “Routine?” His voice raised a few decibels. “I’ll say what’s routine and what isn’t. You usurped my authority when I specifically

  …”

  “You closed the case too soon,” Sam countered. “I didn’t know you were the kind of cop to bury a case under a ton of red tape.”

  “You have a problem, Sergeant?”

  “My problem is with you. How dare you interfere with an ongoing investigation? Chief Connelley would never go behind his detectives’ backs. He obviously is a man of character and principle.” Sam kept in control but made no effort to keep her voice down. If Murphy wanted an audience, she would give them something to hear.

  Murphy’s face reddened. “Who the hell do you think you are talking to, young lady?”

  “At this moment, I’m not really sure.” Her feathered earring whipped across her face. At one point it got caught in her hair. She was aware of the spectators in the outer office. Some lived and breathed for confrontations like this and Camille Carter’s visits. It fueled the break room gossip mongers. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jake heading her way, but Frank stopped him.

  Perspiration started to form on Murphy’s forehead. The meeting would be short-lived because Sam knew the last thing Murphy wanted was to sweat in his one-hundred-and-twenty-five-dollar silk shirt.

  “Sergeant, I think you need some time off to think about this. You are suspended. Take three days to rethink exactly what kind of future you want in this department. No, make it a week.” He raised his arm in a theatrical gesture. “Now get the hell outta here.”

  Sam glared at him. Her hand instinctively found her medicine bundle. Oblivious to the stares and whispers, she returned to her office. All she did was chant in he
r native Lakota while she clasped her medicine bundle firmly in her right hand.

  “Sam, you have to think first before you open your mouth,” Jake said.

  She ignored him, walked over to the window in her office and cranked it open, all the while chanting. She packed up her tote bag with her notes. Janet poked her head in to tell her Chief Connelley wanted her to call him. It was important.

  “Sam,” Jake called out after her as she headed for the elevator. He stopped at Janet’s desk and stood next to Frank. As Sam waited by the elevator, the two mourning doves streaked through her doorway and into the office. Maury and Andy made a dive for the floor. One officer pulled out his gun and aimed it at the moving targets.

  “Hey, shoo them birds out of here,” Sergeant Scofield yelled, rushing out from behind his desk. “And put that gun away.”

  The two mourning doves flew into Murphy’s office where they each made a deposit on Murphy’s desk right in the middle of the report he was writing to put into Sam’s file.

  Murphy jerked back screaming, “Sonafabitch!”

  One dove snatched a yellow rose from the vase of flowers on Murphy’s credenza. It flew over to the elevator where it deposited the rose in Sam’s outstretched hand, and then flew back to its mate on the windowsill.

  The laughter that erupted when the birds visited Murphy’s office ended abruptly when the rose was dropped into Sam’s palm. She scanned the silent office slowly, her turquoise eyes seeming to take on a glow. Inhaling the sweet fragrance of the rose, Sam smiled and stepped into the waiting elevator.

  “Mitchell!” Murphy stood at his doorway with his hands on his hips.

  “What happened to my day-to-day reports on Casey?” Murphy closed the door eyeing the bandage on Jake’s head but not curious enough to ask him what had happened.

  “You said to report anything suspicious. I haven’t seen anything suspicious. Just routine police work.” Jake looked at the residue the mourning doves had left on Murphy’s desk and smiled.

  “Routine? You call anything Casey does routine?” He used a notepad to scoop the littered papers into the garbage can. “JANET!” Murphy yelled into the intercom.

  “Circumventing a homicide investigation isn’t exactly routine either.”

  Jabbing an index finger toward him, Murphy warned, “You watch it or you’ll be suspended along with Casey.”

  Janet appeared in the doorway. He pointed toward some of the bird droppings that had missed the papers and stained his desk. “Get something to clean this up.”

  A few seconds later, Janet appeared with a can of disinfectant and a wad of paper towels. She set them on his desk and announced, “I’m going to lunch.”

  “Wait.” Murphy watched Janet scurry out. “Shit, you expect me to clean this?” He stared at the mess and winced. Gingerly, he ripped off one of the paper towels and took a half-hearted swipe at the droppings.

  Jake moved toward the door. “What’s the saying? Ye sow what ye reap?”

  “You just remember our agreement and keep up your end of the bargain.”

  “Now that Sam’s suspended, she can’t very well get into any more trouble.”

  Murphy straightened up from his sanitizing chore. “Trust me. The worst thing in the world is to give Sergeant Casey time on her hands.”

  Chapter 43

  Jake dried off and pulled on a pair of clean blue jeans, thanks to Abby. Little by little, more of his clothes were ending up in the locker in the gym. He heard soft flute music floating through the intercom system on the wall. A lit, scented candle on the counter emitted a faint, pleasant aroma.

  His hair still damp from the shower, Jake opened the refrigerator and felt for the coldest beer can he could find. He didn’t open it, just held the can to his head.

  Abby materialized in the doorway. “You left work early.” She poured two glasses of iced tea and handed Jake one. Taking the can of beer from him and placing it back in the refrigerator, she said, “Have a seat and I’ll change the bandage.”

  Subtle, yet effective. Jake had to smile at how smoothly Abby did that. She had a certain air of respectability that made it difficult to defy, deny, or criticize her. She was Mother Theresa in a headdress.

  “Is Sam around?” Jake flinched as Abby pulled off the bloody gauze pad.

  “Upstairs, I believe.” She applied more of the salve and a fresh bandage to his forehead. “Alex and I are going to try a new Mexican restaurant in town. Sam doesn’t care to join us.”

  “She’s probably still pissed about her suspension.”

  “Sam was suspended?”

  “She has a habit of sticking her foot in her mouth. Now she has a whole week off.”

  Abby had him hold the bandage in place while she cut strips of tape. “Maybe I should stay home.” She finished the bandaging and pressed the back of her hand to his face.

  “Don’t worry. Sam planned it that way,” Jake said. Abby’s look of confusion prompted him to explain. “This way she has more time to work on a case that Captain Murphy closed.”

  Abby shook two aspirins out of a bottle and handed them to Jake. “You have a slight fever. Other than that, the wound is healing.”

  “How can I thank you and Alex?”

  Patting his hand, Abby said, “You don’t have to thank me.”

  “There has to be something I can do for Alex. It was his medicine. Although I’m sure he doesn’t want anything from me.”

  Fabric rustled as Abby sat down. She gazed out at the backyard where Alex was riding up the asphalt path in the golf cart.

  “Actually, there is one thing Alex would like.” She told Jake about an Irish Setter at the pet shop next to a spice emporium. Alex would go next door to play with the dog while Abby shopped. Alex had a similar dog on the reservation but it had been run over by a truck. “He denies that he has a soft spot for that dog and, knowing Alex, I’m sure he feels he would be imposing on Sam.”

  “But it wouldn’t be here in this house. It would stay with Alex.”

  “I know, but Alex…”

  Alex walked in looking dapper in blue jeans, a navy blue sportscoat, navy blue shirt, and a silver conch as a tie. His long gray hair was pulled back in his usual pony tail. His navy hat had a matching conch.

  He gave a nod toward Jake, looked at his head. “How is it doing?”

  “It lets me know it’s still there when I try to do too much, but I’ll live.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Abby asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  “There are leftovers in the frig and cake in the cake saver.”

  Once they left, Jake walked into the study. There was a plexiboard on the wall. With magic markers Sam had written the word HAP on the left side of the board. A line extended to the right where she wrote the year Hap allegedly died. Another line continued to the date Hap’s body was found.

  Jake picked up a red magic marker. By Hap’s name on the left he printed, YONGCHOU. A little to the right of that he wrote HAWAII.

  Chapter 44

  Sam took a breather, settling back on the lumpy couch in the master bedroom. She had spent the afternoon cleaning out the walk-in closet. Boxes were marked with colored tape based on whether they were for the church rummage sale or storage until the remodeling was complete.

  The master bedroom had fond memories for her of how she used to climb into bed and get lost in the mounds of pillows. She would curl up on her father’s side just to smell his aftershave, feel as though he were always there even though he was half way around the world on a news story.

  The room looked out of place now. Not just because the decor didn’t match the rest of the house, but because it seemed so empty, so

  … she couldn’t bring herself to say the word dead. She pulled a mahogany jewelry box onto her lap and opened it. Inside were cuff links, tie tacks, and a variety of sterling silver bracelets and necklaces with inlaid turquoise and coral.

  Her fingers picked through the tarnished silver and leat
her wristbands until a familiar-looking pin caught her eye. She slammed the lid shut and hurried down the staircase.

  “Abby?” Sam clutched the jewelry box as she ran through the dining room into the kitchen.

  Jake strode in from the study with his typical gait, long strides, similar to her father’s. Maybe it was their height. Even at the precinct, she noticed Jake had a purpose to his walk. It wasn’t an arrogant strut. Jake’s head would be bent slightly forward, always kept straight, but his eyes would sweep the room from left to right under those thick brows.

  “Abby and Alex just left,” Jake said. He opened the refrigerator and checked the contents.

  Sam cocked her head slightly, looked up at Jake’s wet hair and his clean knit shirt that smelled of Abby’s fabric softener. “This isn’t a goddam hotel, Mitchell. You’re getting your clothes washed, your bandages changed…”

  Jake slammed the refrigerator door shut, knocking some of the magnets off the front panel. “I’m outta here.”

  He slid the screen door open just as Sam said, “Wait.” She opened the jewelry box and mumbled, “I need your help.”

  Jake jerked his head around. “Excuse me?”

  Sam took a deep breath despising the fact that she had to repeat herself knowing full well he had heard her the first time. “I said I need your help.” She looked at him and tried to stop the tears that were welling up. She whispered, “Please.” Jake closed the screen door and walked over to Sam. “I found this in my father’s jewelry box.” She held up a gold pin in the shape of a lightning bolt.

  Chapter 45

  “And you never looked in your father’s jewelry box before?” Jake asked.

  “I had no reason to. Everything has been packed away since his death.”

  “Damn.” He held the pin between his fingers. “It’s definitely the same. But he was too young to have been in the Korean War.”