by Trish Reeb
Alex swung around to face her pursuer. "What do you want?" she yelled.
The teen slowed, coming to a halt a few feet away. "You . . . forgot . . . your purse," he panted, holding it out to her.
Alex wanted to crawl under the nearest car. "Thanks, I-I just realized I’d left it."
"You welcome," he said, but no smile radiated from his freckled face.
Feeling no better than someone crossing the street to avoid a person of color, she questioned whether she might harbor prejudicial sentiment deep down in her gut. A spool of shame wound its way around her conscience.
"You attend Lincoln High," Alex said. "I noticed you coming out of Ms. Winter’s office yesterday. Am I right?" His red hair was the give-away.
"Yeah, you is." He shoved both hands in his jacket pockets, his brown eyes watchful.
"I’m Ms. Tamburelli, but most people call me Ms. T. What’s your name?" Alex said, glad they found a common bond. She peeled off a glove and extended her hand.
"McGerald River." He clumsily worked a gloved hand out of his pocket and offered a firm shake.
They stared at each other.
"Can I give you a lift back to school?" Alex asked, feeling a need to reward him somehow.
He seemed startled by her offer, but his expression softened slightly. "Thanks, I gotta ride."
"Well, McGerald, thanks for your help. I’ll probably see you around."
"Later." He turned away and jogged toward the church, hiking his oversize jeans up by the belt.
Alex absently scratched her wrist. She waited a few seconds before rotating on her heel to finish the short jaunt to her car. Had it been paranoia that caused her to assume he was up to no good? Paranoia, a bi-product following an assault and a threat, did not seem out of the question. Of course she'd be skittish. Her conclusion alleviated a bit of the sting for betraying her principles, but not entirely.
CHAPTER 34
Cole sat in the parking lot outside The Subway Shop waiting for Burkhart. The dull sky appeared lifeless, the temperature in the teens. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. He’d give him another five minutes and then split. Though Burk extended the invitation and suggested pizza, Cole had neither the time for a sit-down nor the stomach for a steady diet of food that could short-change his life.
He contemplated the cop's interest in the case. Had Haygood asked Burk to look out for him knowing he wouldn’t be around as a sounding board? No, that wasn’t his style. It made more sense that Burk felt obligated to keep an eye on Cole in Haygood’s absence. Burk liked to play the godfather and frequently did, thinking he knew what was best for other people. Even though he seldom knew what was best for Burk.
Cole had been busy all morning. The background check on Martindale had been clean, but raised questions. He finished college at a later age, after four years in the marines. He’d had a handful of substitute teaching jobs in various school systems around the state. Why had he left better paying positions to sub in Detroit? Born in Cleveland, Ohio, he bore no ties to the city. Had he an ulterior motive? Or was he running from something?
Before heading to the restaurant, Cole had visited the morgue to talk to Darrel and procure the lab results from Taryn’s autopsy. After Sunday’s phone call from the Chief to ask what he needed to get the job done, the three to six week wait for the blood analysis had been reduced to thirty-six hours. His visit today had been two-fold. After he left the station last night, he’d called Darrel to ask him to look into Jada’s death. His mind drifted back to their meeting.
Darrel, in the middle of making a Y incision on the body of a kid about fifteen, didn’t look up until he cut through the layers of skin and tissue from sternum to pelvis. "Congratulations." He raised his head to look at Cole. "Never had lab results land on my doorstep in less than two weeks."
Cole nodded at the boy. "What’s his story?"
"Found in a Dumpster. A single bullet to the head."
"ID him yet?"
Darrel shook his head. "John Doe." He disposed of the gloves and washed his hands and arms in the sink.
That could be his nephew lying there some day. Right then Cole decided he'd do whatever needed to be done to make sure DeAngelo didn’t end up as yesterday’s garbage. "No one’s reported him missing?"
"We’re working on it. Got a list of MIA kids as long as my arm. Guess you want the lab addendum."
"Didn’t come by ‘cause I miss your ugly mug." Cole threw him a skewed grin. "Or this place."
Darrel chuckled. "Might get used to it if you came by more often." He handed him a large envelope.
"Like a root canal." Cole tapped it against a hand. "Anything that’ll help the case?"
Darrel shrugged. "Call me with any questions."
"You get a chance to go over Jada Davison's autopsy report?" Cole asked.
Darrel hustled to the door and shut it. "Zwolinski," he said, as if it hurt him to speak the name. "We’ve disagreed in the past about his conclusions, but he dropped the ball on this one." He seized a sheaf of papers. "Copy of the report. I’ve circled key factors and scribbled comments in the margins. My conclusion is at the end. Keep it under wraps for now. I’m going to follow through on this but, until I do, I’d rather you not say anything."
"No problem. Thanks," Cole said. "Puts you in an awkward position." He inserted the papers in the envelope with the lab report.
"Ever known me to back away from a fight?" Darrel asked.
"Only when it comes to your wife."
"That’s hitting below the belt."
"Precisely." They laughed and planned to talk later.
Cole had read the reports. Nothing new in Taryn’s death. Phenobarbital had been used to drug her but, of course, didn’t answer the question why. Darrel’s comments on the autopsy report ironed another wrinkle into the case.
Burkhart drove into the space next to his, pulling Cole out of his reverie. He greeted him knuckle to knuckle. Burk liked to think of himself as an honorary brother. The truth? He was nothing more than a white cop trying to act Black.
They headed toward the restaurant.
"Good to see you, bro," Burkhart said, slapping him on the shoulder. "Glad we could meet."
Cole picked up the pace. "Gotta make it quick. I have to get over to Lincoln."
"Wonder Woman staying out of trouble?" Burkhart asked, holding the door open.
Cole didn’t mention their agreement knowing Burk would have plenty to say. It sounded good in theory, but Alex seemed to be about as predictable as tomorrow’s headlines. "Precisely what I intend to find out."
The men ceased their conversation to read the menu. They each grabbed a tray and placed their orders with a girl who had a stud in the crease below her lower lip. She spread their choice of condiments on the bread and passed it on to a kid with a ponytail. He added the meat, cheeses and asked if they wanted the sandwiches heated. Declining, Cole paid the chunky, but friendly, cashier and wove his way to a table by the window.
The restaurant buzzed in conversation. Out of habit, he surveyed the room. Satisfied no one threatened to disrupt the ecosystem, he amused himself by people watching.
"How’s tricks?" Burkhart asked, plopping his tray on the table and snagging the chair across from him.
"Can’t complain. You?" Cole said, unwrapping his sandwich.
"Arthritis. Hard to get going in the morning, like a car engine that won’t turn over."
"Been in for a tune up lately?"
Burkhart double bit into his meatball sandwich and flashed him a grin through a mouthful of food. Tomato sauce dribbled from his mouth. "Funny. Nah, something I gotta live with." The stream of red slowly traveled to his chin. He nabbed a napkin from the tray and wiped his face. "So what’s new on the case?"
"This and that," Cole said, taking a bite of his chicken sandwich.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing solid yet."
"No suspects?" Burkhart’s eyebrows knitted.
"A few people of interest
. No one I can nail."
The furrows in Burkhart’s forehead deepened when he lifted his eyebrows. "Think it’s too soon?"
"To be honest, I hoped to be further ahead."
"No, I mean, you know, after Desiree."
Irritation prickled the back of Cole’s neck. He wiped his mouth with his napkin to buy a second. "What the hell?"
"Grief can be a distraction." Burkhart shrugged.
"Get out of my shit, man."
Burkhart paused briefly. "Didn’t mean to piss you off." He stared at Cole briefly. "It’s just, I’m worried about you."
That's it? He's concerned? Cole let go of his anger. Burk was Burk. Not the most tactful guy but he meant well. "Don’t. I’m into results, not excuses."
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
"They making any noise downtown?" Burkhart asked.
"Not yet. But they will be if I don’t put this case to bed soon."
"Those people of interest. Want to run them by me?"
Did he? It wouldn’t hurt to get someone else’s perspective. Burk might be a pain in the ass, but he'd earned his reputation as a good cop. Cole told him about the McGerald River interview followed by Bobbi Townsend’s observations.
"You think Martindale did it?" he asked around a mouthful of sandwich.
Cole shrugged. "I think everybody did it."
"Throw out the dice. Let’s see what you got."
Cole ticked off the names, omitting the newly acquired information on Jada. Still, he could ask Burk if he’d heard anything about the alleged suicide. He used McMullen to load the dice even though he thought of him as more of an asshole than the doer. It puzzled him as to why he felt the need to impress Burkhart. Wanting to allay the concerns he expressed about Cole's readiness made sense and the only reason he could think of.
"This Martindale, he got an alibi?" Burkhart asked through a belch as he balled the sandwich wrapper and tossed it on the tray.
"You trying to set a world record?"
Burkhart stared blankly.
"You inhaled your sandwich."
They laughed.
"Home alone the night of the murder," Cole said. He took a long pull on his diet Pepsi.
"Hm-m. He’s got motive and no alibi. I’d say he’s more than a person of interest."
Cole burned to tell him what he knew about Jada. "You hear anything about a teen suicide? A Jada Davison?"
"Yeah, matter of fact, it was my case."
"And you didn’t think to mention it?" Cole’s irritation climbed again.
Burk raised his brows. "No, why should I? Just another kid cutting her life short."
"She attended Lincoln High. You don’t see that as relevant?"
Burk’s face reddened. "What the hell you insinuating?" he asked between clenched teeth.
"I’m curious why you never told me," Cole said.
In one long sigh, Burk let out the steam building up. "Honestly, I forgot about it. Never even gave it a second thought." He cocked his head. "Why is it so important?"
Cole couldn’t very well tell him, but he could throw out a reason. "She was Ms. Richards’ student."
"So?"
"It could be relevant to the case."
"How?"
"I never got a chance to interview her. What if she knew something?" It sounded lame even to his ears, but he couldn't push it any further. "Someone broke into Alex’s place last night and nuked her cat," Cole said, wanting to change the subject.
Burkhart snickered. "Don’t have much use for felines."
Cole frowned. "You’re missing the point."
"Yeah, that’s harsh." Burkhart leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped, fingers laced, on top of his whale belly. "How’s she doing?"
"She’s a tough one." Thinking of Alex made him antsy to leave. He scooped up the remnants of their meal and placed them on the tray.
"Surprising after the trifecta she’s been through." Burkhart jumped out of his seat and seized the tray from him. "I’ll get it."
They pushed the chairs under the table and headed for the door. "There's more. She heard her attacker’s laugh in the hall yesterday," Cole said.
"You believe her? Think about it. Why would he want to give himself away?" Burkhart dumped the trash into the receptacle and placed the tray on top.
"Intimidation. Mess with her head," Cole held the door open. "Who knows what goes through the minds of these cretins."
"A laugh? Lot of bricks to tap in that dinosaur. Know what I mean?"
He understood Burkhart’s skepticism but he figured, if he chipped at enough mortar, the right one would fall out.
They arrived at their cars and stood in the parking lot.
Cole tugged on his gloves.
Burkhart’s bulbous nose turned red. "Hey, I checked into Morgan’s alibi. Sister corroborated that she’d spent the evening at her house the night of the murder. Also, nothing out of the ordinary in terms of her work history."
"Thanks." Well, he might as well forget the fast lane to a resolution.
"Don’t suppose you’ve heard from Haygood," Burkhart said.
"You kidding? First time I’ve known him to take a vacation."
"Me, too. It's well-deserved."
"You got it," Cole said, praying Angie had beaten the cancer.
"Anything else you want me to do to help?" Burkhart asked.
"I’ll let you know."
They butted knuckles again and went their separate ways to their vehicles.
"Thanks, man, for your help." Cole climbed into his car and set out for the school. What would his boss say if he found out he’d appointed Alex as his mole? The shit would hit the fan if it got back to him. No way to un-ring that bell. He'd made Alex his partner of sorts, like it or not.
CHAPTER 35
At one-fifteen, Alex arrived at the school and signed in. On the way to her office, she passed Martindale talking to a couple girls and waved. Bobbi’s words stay clear of Martindale resonated in her head. He didn’t appear to be flirting, not like other adult males she’d seen. Maybe Bobbi over-exaggerated. Judgmental to a fault, she rarely cut people any slack once she made up her mind about them. Alex would stay vigilant, but for now she had no qualms about Martindale.
After checking her answering machine for messages, she backtracked to the main office to answer Mary Winter’s summons. She probably wanted to talk about the proposition she'd left in her mailbox or maybe check to see how she'd been faring. Enroute, Alex barely noticed the two colleagues holding their wagging tongues as she passed them. Reaching the main office, she found the assistant principal’s door open.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, please come in." Mary Winter motioned to a chair in front of her desk.
Alex closed the door and perched on the edge of the seat.
"Dear, I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Are you okay?"
"I’m fine."
She opened a drawer and withdrew the green slips confiscated from Arjay earlier in the morning.
Alex’s stomach pinched. Uh-oh. How closely had she examined them? Enough to realize the names had the same initials? And would she care?
The administrator raised a shapely eyebrow. "Are you aware we directed teachers and counselors not to write passes?"
"Actually, I missed that announcement." She held her breath, figuratively speaking.
"Thought so." Mary Winter handed Alex the slips. "Find another way of contacting these students."
Alex slowly let the air out. "Thanks."
A knock on the door.
"Just a minute," Mary Winter called. She stared at Alex. "You’ve had it pretty rough lately. Anything I can do?"
How much had she heard? Alex stood to leave. "I’ll let you know if there is. Thanks."
"Oh, I almost forgot." She handed the proposal to her with her signature of approval written on the bottom. "Go for it."
Alex opened the door to find McGerald River supporting the corridor wall wit
h his stocky but solid frame, his arms crossed. "We meet again," he said, a smirk on his face.
The look unnerved her. "Fancy that."
He grinned, pushed off the wall, and strutted into Mary Winter’s office.
Alex wended her way back to the counseling suite. Twice in as many days, she’d seen McGerald River going in and out of the assistant principal’s office. Had he gotten in trouble, or was Mary Winter trying to keep him out of it?
*
Cole breezed into the counseling suite, his eyes going to Alex’s closed door.
"May I help you?" asked an attractive twenty-something woman with a flawless caramel complexion and a plunging neckline exposing enough cleavage to pique most men’s interest, not to mention teenage boys.
"Detective Grant. I’m looking for Ms. Tamburelli."
"She’s not here at the moment. Maybe I can help. I’m Chandra Garrett," she said, extending a hand.
They shook, Ms. Garrett squeezed, seemingly reluctant to let go.
"Nice to meet you," Cole said, gently disengaging his hand. "I’m afraid I need to see Ms. Tamburelli."
"Too bad." Chandra sashayed to her office, her short skirt showcasing a well-rounded derrière. Stiletto heels clicked on the hardwood floor until the carpet in her office swallowed the sound.
He’d met women like Chandra Garrett before. Arm candy. Even dated a few, but found them incapable of keeping an intelligent conversation alive. At regular intervals their eyes strayed from his to see if anyone more interesting had arrived on the scene.
Cole grabbed a seat to await Alex. He scanned the bulletin board containing new and out-dated notices. Keith Langdon had gone to lunch according to the schedule posted outside his closed door. A solitary box labeled Progress Reports sat on the desk. He slid the top sheet off the stack and studied it. Maybe Jess could use something like this to monitor DeAngelo’s progress. He folded it and put it in his pocket at the same time Alex pushed through the door. The school ID and keys on a lanyard around her neck thumped with her every step.