Shadow Tag

by Marjorie Swift Doering

  Waverly set his coffee down. “Not even once?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Even after Davis’s death?”

  Chalmers slurped his coffee. “Haven’t spoken to Gaines since then. The kid quit.”

  “When was this?”

  “The day they found Davis’s body in the boardroom.” He watched a look pass between Waverly and Ray. “Hey, it shook me up plenty, too. If it wasn’t for the age thing, I might’ve quit and looked for another job myself. The whole thing kinda gave me the willies. That’s the truth.”

  Ray and Waverly stood in unison.

  “Mr. Chalmers, thanks for your help.” Wincing, Ray turned in a half-crouch to Audrey Chalmers. “Thank you, too, ma’am.”

  At the door, Waverly gave the security guard one of his cards. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful, give us a call.”

  “You betcha,” Chalmers said, tugging at the gap in his robe. “I’ll do that.”He shut the door behind them. From the other side they heard his voice. “There’s no way I’m gonna be able to get back to sleep now, Audrey. Bring yourself over here, you little sweet pea.”

  She giggled like a schoolgirl.

  Waverly chuckled. “Sounds like Chalmers is planning to do a little ‘gardening’. Doesn’t seem like a man with a guilty conscience to me.”

  Ray tried to straighten his back. “Right. I think we can scratch him off our list…for now, anyway.”

  They got into the car and Waverly checked for Todd Gaines’ address in his notebook. “Don’t get too comfortable, buddy,” he said, pulling away from the curb, “we’ll be there in no time.”

  “Comfortable? Not likely.” A sharp right turn made Ray cringe. “Chalmers seemed straightforward enough. Johnson, though… He was as hostile as hell.”

  “But a man with nothing to hide.” Laughing, Waverly repeated the ‘flasher’ gesture with his jacket.

  “That’s getting old in a hurry.”

  Waverly laughed. “Only from your perspective.”

  “Look, before we get there, what’s your take on the Gaines kid?”

  “I haven’t talked to him yet.”

  Ray turned his head to see if he was joking. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Waverly’s knuckles went white around the steering wheel. “Schaefer claimed the kid’s a dead end.”

  “Then Todd Gaines was interviewed.”

  “Yeah, but by my ex-partner, not me.” Waverly kept his eyes on the road. “That being the case, I don’t know how much the information’s worth.”

  “Look, I know Schaefer was demoted, but just how bad was he?”

  “He’s an okay guy and a good cop, but as a detective he wasn’t making the grade. He was kinda hit-or-miss a lot of the time—too damn inconsistent. He might’ve done okay with this Gaines kid, maybe not. I can’t swear to it one way or the other.”

  “If you knew that, why didn’t you check Gaines out yourself?”

  “Believe me, I tried—three times at least. Either Gaines is mighty damn busy, or he’s intentionally ducking me.”

  “Let’s hope we get lucky and pin him down today.”

  “Yeah.” Waverly let out a heavy sigh. “Ray…”

  “What?”

  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

  “I’ve got a couple spare minutes on my hands. Go ahead.”

  “The cool reception you’ve been getting at the precinct…”

  “What about it?”

  “The guys think Roth should’ve given Schaefer more time to get his act together before demoting him. It stinks that you’re getting the cold shoulder treatment over it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I expected some noses would be out of joint; I’m just surprised to hear it’s about that. As an outsider, I knew my getting the detective opening over a local cop was bound to go down hard.”

  “Well, yeah, there’s that, too,” Waverly said. “It’s prob’ly a horse apiece. I promise you they’re good guys, though. Give ’em a little time. They’ll get over it.”

  “I’ve seen you take some flack, too.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle. Frankly, where my old partner’s concerned, I don’t give a damn what they think. They didn’t have to work with the guy; I did. Should’ve happened sooner.” Waverly gunned the engine and made a left-hand turn. “About the Gaines kid…” he said, “so far, there’s nothing to tie him to Paul Davis. But his quitting like he did… It sounds off. Could be he was just shook up or—”

  “Or there wasn’t any reason for him to stick around,” Ray finished for him. “Maybe he’d accomplished what he set out to do.”

  5

  Todd Gaines’ house was practically the mirror image of the Chalmers’ place, but while the structures were equally unimpressive, that’s where the similarity ended. Flower boxes boasted petunias, English ivy and pansies. No weeds poked through the walkway cracks, and a freshly trimmed hedge set the postage-stamp yard apart from the neighboring properties.

  An affable woman of generous proportions greeted them at the door. She bore a striking resemblance to the pleasant image Ray still retained of the Aunt Jemima of old, whose smiling face once adorned syrup bottles.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “my grandson’s not home just now, but you come on in out of the heat, and I’ll give him a call.” She saw them in and walked away still talking, her buttocks rising and falling like massive pistons with each step. “He’s over at his friend Martin’s place,” she called from the kitchen. “Todd’s helping him work on his sorry excuse of a car. Hang on while I get ahold of him.”

  A minute later, she returned carrying a black enamel serving tray with three ice-filled glasses and a heavy pitcher brimming with lemonade and a flotilla of ice cubes. “Martin says Todd headed home a little bit ago. Oughta be getting back anytime now.” She set the tray down and poured the lemonade. “You’ve got just enough time for a cold drink while you wait.”

  The ice cubes clinked against the glasses already glistening with condensation. The sight and sound seemed to lower the room’s temperature by ten degrees.

  “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t think to ask. Maybe you fellas would prefer coffee.”

  Ray licked a drop of lemonade from his lips. “No, ma’am, this is perfect. Thanks.”

  Waverly took a long drink, savoring the cold, sweet/tart tang and said, “I imagine you know why we’re here, Mrs. Gaines.”

  Her smile faded. “I suppose it’s about that awful business where Todd worked.” She shook her head. “Such an awful thing that poor man killing himself like that.”

  “Maybe you can answer a few questions for us while we wait for Todd,” Waverly said.

  “Will if I can.” She settled her bulk in a corner of an overstuffed floral couch.

  “We heard your grandson quit his job at ACC the day after Paul Davis was found dead.”

  “That’s right. The very next day.”

  “Any particular reason he quit so suddenly?” Ray asked.

  She tilted her head. “Particular reason?”

  “Was it a coincidence? I mean, prior to Mr. Davis’s death, had Todd already planned on quitting that day?”

  “No,” she said, smoothing her dress. “He liked it there. Well, not the job so much, but it was convenient. That time of night, ain’t nothin’ going on over there, so he got to study and work pretty much at the same time. It worked out for him. He talked about staying on ’til he found something permanent after graduation. Mark my words, somebody will snap him up real quick.” Her smile returned, broader than before. “Bright as a two hundred watt bulb, that boy.”

  Ray took another quick sip. “So why’d he quit?”

  “The way that man killed himself like that... It was a terrible thing. Just terrible. Todd took it real bad.”

  “Why’s that? Did he know Mr. Davis personally?”

  She gave Ray an indulgent smile. “Detective, Mr. Davis didn’t associate with folks like us. Peop
le like him… Well, they figure they’re better than most.” She put her hand on her ample chest. “Mind you, that goes for some other folks, too, but his kind especially.”

  “Then, why did your grandson take his death so hard? Has he talked with you about what happened that night?”

  “I asked, but Todd’s like his daddy was; he keeps his feelings to himself. Sad thing is, Todd wasn’t even supposed to work that night. Didn’t want to neither—had finals coming up the next day.” She plumped up the striped accent pillow beside her, flattening it again as she laid her arm across it. “Someone took sick, and Todd had to fill in.”

  “I see. So did Todd share anything with you about that night?”

  “Just that the man’s death bothered him real bad—that he felt responsible.”

  Ray jumped on it. “Responsible how?”

  “Don’t go taking that wrong; that’s just the way he is. He loads lotsa stuff on his shoulders—things he shouldn’t. My grandson’s a good boy.” Her face glowed as she told them, “Got himself a scholarship, you know. U of M—Twin Cities. An academic scholarship, not one of them athletic things. Not that he ain’t athletic, mind you, but he’s smart as a whip besides.”

  At the sound of a noisy muffler, she straightened up to look out the front window. A green, rusty Corsica was slowing to a crawl on the street in front of the house. “There’s Todd now,” she said.

  Waverly got up and moved to the window to look for himself. The Corsica pulled up well behind their car, idling several feet from the curb. A moment later, Gaines revved the engine and drove away.

  Mrs. Gaines stood and watched the Corsica take a quick right at the end of the block. “Where in the world is he going?”

  “Wish I knew,” Waverly said in disgust.

  “My stars.” She looked at them with an unspoken apology written in the lines of her face. “I don’t know where he’s gone off to. If he knew you were waiting to see him, he’d have come in.”

  Openly sarcastic, Waverly grumbled, “Of course he would.”

  “Want me to have him call you when he gets back?”

  His annoyance evident, Waverly replied, “Yes, you do that.”

  She saw them out, offering a feeble smile. “I’m sorry about Todd driving off that way, makin’ you wait for nothin.”

  “We really need to speak with your grandson, Mrs. Gaines,” Ray said. “See what you can do, will you?”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Turning before the door closed behind them, Ray said, “We appreciate your help, and that lemonade really hit the spot. Thanks very much.”

  As they got back in their car, Waverly slammed his door. “That damn kid’s as slippery as a greased banana peel.”

  “Maybe he’s got good reason. Does he have a record?” Ray asked.

  “He’s clean; we checked. I’d sure as hell like to know why he keeps giving me the slip.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  6

  As Ray and Waverly left Todd Gaines’s home, Ed Costales was leaning back in his chair in the president’s office of ACC, the leather cradling his body. His face was reflected in the gleaming surface of his desk, a desk he’d personally selected for effect—impressive and larger by half than the one left behind by Chet Stockton. Everything about the office exuded a feeling of authority, power, and success.

  Although not textbook handsome, Costales’s body, at five foot-nine, made up for what it lacked in stature with a sturdy build. Detractors called him husky; admirers referred to his physique as muscular. The former found his full head of black, collar-length hair inappropriate, the latter, sexy.

  Longtime friend and associate Larry Greenway sat across from him, running a hand over the desk’s smooth finish. “Nice. Really nice, Ed.”

  “Coffee?” Costales offered.

  Greenway declined with a wave of his hand.

  Costales keyed his intercom. “Jillian, one coffee, please. Black.”

  Cup in hand, she entered the office moments later. She was suddenly the most impressive thing in the room. Hair the color of a freshly minted penny curved gracefully under her jawline, accentuating a long, elegant neck. Striking, aquamarine eyes, a straight, fine nose and perfectly bowed lips combined to create a flawless face. A cream-colored linen skirt hugged her slim hips. The silk of her chocolate-brown blouse, while loose-fitting, draped over her torso in a way that accentuated every delicate curve. She strode across the room and handed the cup to Costales without a word.

  He offered not a thank you, but a barrage of orders as he set the coffee down. “My meeting is in fifteen minutes. Have you got the reports ready?”

  “They’re on my desk.”

  “Good. Take them to the conference room and set them out.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  He continued adding to his list of tasks, aware and vaguely annoyed that she was looking past him rather than at him. “I want next quarter’s sales projections on my desk when I get back. Get them from Cordero. And Ted Wilson from Shannon Pharmaceuticals should be calling. If he phones while the meeting is in session, put him on hold and notify me. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  It was the answer he wanted, but her tone lacked the submissiveness he apparently desired. He leaned back in his chair, looking her over. “One more thing,” he added, “finish those letters to Keeling and the others and have them ready for my signature by the time the meeting wraps up.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Anything else?”

  “Yes, now that you mention it,” Costales said, heaping another task on an already-hefty list. “Will you, for God’s sake, go collect the rest of my things from Denise in my old office? It should have been done already. I want everything cleared out of there today.”

  Still avoiding eye contact, she directed her focus an inch over his head. There was no insubordination, just a sense of wordless defiance.

  “Jillian, are you listening to me?”

  “Yes.” The petulance must have reverberated even in her ears. Discreetly, she lowered her gaze and looked directly at him, blunting her voice’s sharp edge. “I’ll see to it.”

  “Make sure you do.” Sounding marginally satisfied, he dismissed her.

  Greenway’s eyes never left Jillian until the door closed behind her as she left. As the door latched shut, he sucked air through pursed lips. “You lucky bastard.”

  Costales grinned without comment. “Now, about ADMAC. You had a concern about…” A change in his friend’s expression made him pause. “What’s wrong?”

  Greenway fingered the sharp crease in his pant leg. “There’s something else we need to discuss first.”

  “Fine, but I don’t have much time.”

  “This won’t take long, Ed. Some of the other board members and I have been talking. We think we should go to the police—amend what we told them about the election.”

  Costales shot out of his chair. “That information is to remain confidential.”

  “Ed, we thought claiming Paul won the election would be in our and ACC’s best interest at the time, but—”

  “It was and still is. I’ll be damned if I’ll let the company take a hit because some pansy-ass board members have a case of cold feet.”

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  “Let me remind you of something. Lying about the election results wasn’t my idea; it was the board’s.”

  “You’re saying it’s entirely our fault?”

  “Damn right I am. Before I even got there, the twelve of you came up with that plan. You’re the ones who elected John Stanley.”

  “We had no real choice. So much was going on with Paul at the time: his wife’s murder, then his mistress’s death. We couldn’t risk making Paul the new president of ACC—not with that kind of scandal hanging over him. John Stanley was a good choice. A sound choice.”

  “But not the stockholders’ choice.”

  “Granted, but most of them were only vaguely aware of what was goi
ng on at the time. It was in their best interest that we overrode their vote. We could’ve smoothed things over with them eventually.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Costales shook his head. “John having a heart attack on the night of his win… That’s rich.”

  Greenway stood, hands fisted. “It’s not like any of us could’ve predicted that. What happened to John was a shame.”

  “For John, yes, but a blessing for the board. What a relief that had to be. You thought you’d gotten a do-over—Paul would take over after all, and you’d be spared the backlash from the stockholders. Too bad he turned up dead in the boardroom the next morning.”

  A snide grin slid across Greenway’s face. “What are you complaining about? If things had gone differently, you wouldn’t be in this office right now.”

  “True, but think about this: the sequence of events has put me in the unenviable position of running ACC, not as the board’s alternate choice like the stockholder’s have been told, but as the second runner-up. If you want to destroy the company, then by all means, enlighten the police and let the stockholders hear the truth on the five o’clock news.”

  “If we—”

  “Larry, if word gets out that Paul killed himself after the twelve of you overrode the stockholder’s vote to elect him as ACC’s president, how long do you think it will take this company to dig out after that?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Apparently not. Have you considered that the stockholders will vote your asses off the board if the truth goes public?”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. We stick to the original plan. We continue to say that Paul won the election—that he must’ve been more shaken by the losses in his personal life than any of us suspected—that his election must’ve felt like a hollow victory, and he took his life in despair. That’s what we’re sticking with, understand?” He walked back to the other side of his desk. “At least that way, we can maintain confidence in the leadership of ACC. Doing it your way would be the kiss of death.”

  “But, Ed, you’re not looking at the whole picture. The police are dragging their feet on this investigation, and it’s scaring the hell out of us. They seem to be trying to turn Paul’s death into something it isn’t. If we admit he lost the election, they’ll finally get the whole picture and rule his death a suicide. Give it to them and they’ll leave us and ACC in peace.”