A Deadly Business (A Mia Quinn Mystery)

by Lis Wiehl

  “No skid marks,” she observed. She felt brittle and light, as if she weren’t really there at all. “Although I guess it has been nearly seven months. Maybe they just got worn away.”

  “It was wet that night,” Charlie said, “which takes away most of the friction. There wouldn’t have been enough heat to melt the rubber.”

  She leaned down to look closer at the gravel. Mixed in among the small gray stones were shards of plastic—some clear and some yellow, as well as little pebbles of blue safety glass from the windshield. If someone had really hit Scott, seven months ago there would have been cast-off blood spatter every time they drew back to hit him again. If Charlie and Mia stayed until it was fully dark and he sprayed Luminol, would the gravel and these tree trunks light up like the night sky? Or had all the rain in between washed everything away?

  “Mia, breathe,” Charlie reminded her again.

  She forced herself to take a slow breath. Was it possible that one of the molecules now entering her lungs had been part of Scott’s dying breath?

  She put her hand on the trunk of the tree and closed her eyes. Scott, she thought, I’m sorry I didn’t help you. I’m sorry I knew something was wrong and didn’t push when you told me that it was nothing. I’m sorry I didn’t fight hard enough for our marriage.

  “Are you okay?” Charlie asked.

  “I knew for a while that things were wrong,” she said without opening her eyes. “I asked, but only a few times, and when he said he didn’t want to talk about it, I stopped. I was afraid he was thinking of leaving me, and if I pushed him that was exactly what he’d do. Maybe I could have changed things if I had spoken up right when things went off track.”

  He rested his hand on her shoulder and then took it away. Mia opened her eyes and turned to face him. “You never met Scott, did you?” Of course he hadn’t. Charlie mostly belonged to her new life, Scott to her old. She and Charlie had worked exactly one case together before she quit the DA’s office and became a stay-at-home mom. And even that one case had fallen apart when Charlie’s unique approach caused the whole thing to get thrown out.

  Now she saw him with different eyes. She knew his heart, both how reckless it was and how brave.

  Or maybe she only thought she knew Charlie. After all, she had thought she knew Scott. And learning the truth wouldn’t bring him back, wouldn’t change what had happened. Maybe it was better to live with the falsehoods she had told herself, her selective memories.

  “Somebody’s coming,” Charlie said, pointing. Two headlights pushed toward them through the gathering darkness.

  CHAPTER 45

  An old blue Taurus drove slowly past them. The white-haired man at the wheel had his hands at ten and two. He favored them with a nod, then carefully maneuvered off the road until he was parked about thirty yards past Charlie’s car.

  He got out and walked toward them. He was dressed in a black Windbreaker and dark jeans that were a little too short. Under a shock of pure white hair, his face was ruddy. As he got closer, Mia saw that it was pitted with old acne scars, scars layered on top of scars. He gave them both another nod and a tentative smile.

  It was the kind of face that probably wasn’t being made anymore. Today the jumble of crooked teeth would have been straightened long ago with an Invisalign, the skin smoothed with Accutane. The senior citizens of the future were going to be a much more homogenous lot.

  “I’m Charlie,” Charlie said, holding out his hand. “And this is Mia. Scott Quinn’s widow.”

  Mia hated the word widow. It conjured up the image of a weeping old woman dressed in all black. It simply seemed impossible to be a widow while you were still in your thirties.

  Alvin’s rheumy eyes were at the same level as Mia’s. “I am so, so sorry,” he said as he shook her hand. His grip was soft, as if he was afraid of injuring her further.

  “Thank you.” It was what Mia always said, but it never sounded quite right. What was she thanking people for? Their apologies were just awkward words or easy platitudes, and her hurt was so deep, far past the level that a word or two could reach. “And what do you do? I don’t think the accident report said.”

  “Me?” He gave a little laugh, as if it had been some time since anyone inquired. “Oh, I’m retired. I used to work in hardware.”

  “We really appreciate your coming out tonight to talk to us,” Charlie said.

  Alvin waved his hand. “It’s no trouble at all.”

  “Like Mia said, we’ve both seen the accident report,” Charlie said. “But it doesn’t go into many details. What we’d like is to hear from you in your own words what happened that night.”

  “Well.” Alvin took a deep, sighing breath. “That night I had been visiting my granddaughter. We were having such a good time—she’s nine—that I left later than I intended. I was driving back to Seattle when I saw headlights coming up fast in my rearview mirror. This guy got on my tail”—he flashed an apologetic look at Mia—“excuse my French—and started flashing his brights. He was driving way too fast, especially since the road was wet. I was doing thirty. That’s the speed limit, and even that might have been a little speedy for the conditions. He was riding my bumper so close I couldn’t even see his license plate. Finally I pulled over in my lane as far as I could, and I rolled down my window and waved to let him pass. Maybe he thought I was doing something else, because he made a, um, gesture.” Another shamed glance at Mia. “And then he passed me.”

  Scott? That didn’t sound like Scott. Then again, how well had Mia known him, given the drinking, the debts, and the dame?

  “When I got on Vollhanger and was going around this corner, I saw headlights shining in the wrong direction. There was a blue car off the road. I realized it was the same car that had passed me, only now it was skewed around. It had run into that tree right there.” He indicated the spot with his chin. “I turned on my hazard lights and pulled over. I parked about where I am now, maybe a little farther down. I didn’t want to cause another accident.”

  Mia wanted to scream at how he was taking things step by step.

  Alvin pressed his lips together. “I’ll admit it took me a minute before I got out and went over there. I was trying to get my heart to slow down.” He put his hand on his sternum, flattening out his jacket. He was stockier than Mia had first thought, with a barrel chest. “It felt like it would beat right out of my chest. I was afraid. A man like that, one who had nearly forced someone off the road—what if he had a gun?” He shot her another glance. “I’m sorry I thought that. I heard later he’d been drinking. I’m sure he wasn’t really like that when he was sober. But when you’re on a lonely road like this in the dark, you start thinking all kinds of things. At the same time, I knew if I didn’t stop to help then he might not be found until morning.”

  Mia managed a nod, as if offering him absolution.

  “When I got to the car the engine was still going, so I reached in and turned it off. Your husband was lying across the seat. I think he may have been alive when I got there.”

  “Really?” She tried to suck in a breath, but it wouldn’t go down.

  “After I turned off the engine, I thought I heard these sounds, kind of like a cross between a gurgle and a breath. I leaned in but I was afraid to touch him. His face was all messed up. Broken. And I don’t have any training in CPR. It took a little while to even think to call 911.” His eyes flashed to her and then away. “But I don’t believe it would have made any difference even if I had called right away.”

  They would never know, would they? Mia knew what it was like to live with that question every day. To ask, if you had just done something a bit differently, would it have been enough to change everything?

  “I told him that help was on the way, but I don’t know if he could hear me. The sounds had pretty much stopped by then. I took his wrist and I tried to find his pulse, but either I did it wrong or he was gone.”

  “Did you unbuckle him?” Charlie asked.

  “No. He w
asn’t wearing a seat belt.”

  “While you were pulled over on the side of the road, did any other cars pass you?”

  “I don’t know.” He squinted up at the sky, now midnight blue, trying to remember. “I think there might have been a couple.” His gaze shifted from Charlie to Mia.

  “Did you see any other cars at the accident site?” Charlie asked.

  Alvin cocked his head. “But it was a one-car accident. He went off the road and he hit a tree.”

  “It’s possible that someone stopped before you, not to help him, but to hurt him.” Charlie leaned in. “So did you see another car at the accident site?”

  “Dear Lord.” Alvin blinked rapidly, then pinched his lips with his thumb and first knuckle. After a long pause he said, “You know, I think I do remember seeing taillights right as I was coming up. But whoever it was, they were just driving off as I got there.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Penny for your thoughts,” Charlie said as he drove them back toward Seattle.

  Mia tried to untangle her thoughts enough to express them. “Talking to Kenny and Alvin made me feel like I did after interviewing the kids this morning. We might have more information, but we don’t have any more answers. We’ve got a witness who thinks he saw another car leaving the scene of Scott’s accident. Not that he knows anything else useful about the vehicle. Or is even all that certain that he saw one. We’ve got a restaurant owner who may or may not be cheating the IRS and who thinks bribes and kickbacks are just how business gets done, but who says he had no problem with Scott correcting him.”

  “And then there’s your dishwasher,” Charlie added.

  “And then there’s my dishwasher.” Mia felt a twist of frustration. “I want to find a way to talk to him without getting him in trouble. I just don’t know how to arrange that.” The man had been so jumpy. “His English was pretty much nonexistent, so if he ended up getting fired for talking to me, he’d have a hard time finding another job.”

  And there was the matter of what he had said. “He help?” How had Scott helped? Who had he helped? And was it a sad sign of just how low Mia’s opinion of Scott had fallen that those two small words had lit a tiny flame of hope within her?

  Charlie’s eyes slid sideways and then back to the road. “Whatcha thinking you’re gonna do about those boys in the shopping cart case?”

  “That’s what they are, aren’t they? Boys. Kids. They’re definitely not adults. And Eli’s right. If I charge them as adults, their lives will be ruined. They’ll either get broken or hardened. Either way, past all repair.” She sighed. “Nothing’s ever clear, is it? Manny thinks it’s his fault, but he could be imagining it. And when we interviewed the boys, I went in thinking Jackson was the guilty one, but then it seemed like Dylan was the one who did it on purpose. And Jackson was the one who fell apart when he talked about what had happened.”

  “People cry for all kinds of reasons,” Charlie observed. “Including being sorry that they got caught.”

  “I’m not saying they don’t deserve to deal with the consequences of what they did. I’m just saying it’s not right to destroy them. I have until tomorrow morning to file. I think I’m going to run the clock out. That will give Raines less time to turn it to his advantage.” Not that that would really slow him down.

  “Nobody’s got too much sympathy for those two,” Charlie said. “Everywhere I go, people are talking about that video.”

  “I’d bet if we could trace back how that leaked to the media, we’d find Raines’s fingerprints all over it.”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t make what it shows any less true.”

  “Do you think I’m making the wrong decision?” Mia asked. Once her mind was made up, it was rare for her to ask for someone else’s opinion. But Charlie had seen the same things she had, heard the same explanations and stories. The only thing he hadn’t experienced for himself was seeing just how shattered Tamsin was.

  “No,” he said slowly, “I don’t. But I might be in the minority.”

  “But we both know that a blurry black-and-white video doesn’t tell you what the kids were thinking when they did it. It doesn’t tell you if they meant to hurt someone or if the cart just slipped. I’d have to be absolutely certain it was the right thing to do to charge them as adults, and I’m not. It’s kind of like what’s happening with Scott. I feel like there are pieces we’re missing.”

  Charlie shifted in his seat. “Speaking of Scott, what’s next on that front?”

  “I’m going to call the IRS agent tomorrow, see if they really did close the investigation. And I’m going to try to figure out a way to talk to that dishwasher.”

  It was a little after eight when Mia showed her badge to the security guard at the courthouse. She took the elevator up to the office to grab files to refresh her memory for an upcoming court case. All of her time was being eaten up by the shopping cart case as well as trying to unravel the mystery of Scott’s murder, but she couldn’t neglect her other work.

  The offices were deserted, most of the space dark. As she walked past Judy’s desk, Mia heard a whirring. Judy’s personal fan was still on. She must have been in the middle of a hot flash when she left for the day and forgotten to turn it off. Mia felt around the base but couldn’t find the switch. She tugged on the cord where it disappeared under Judy’s desk, but the fan kept on spinning.

  Mia was down on her hands and knees, tracing the cord back to its plug, when she heard a voice. She started, hitting her head on the underside of the desk drawer. Her hair muffled the thump, and the footsteps didn’t pause.

  “I love you too, honey.”

  Just Frank talking to his wife. Mia found the place where the plug went into the socket.

  “What does Diann have to do with any of this?” Frank said. His voice sounded like he was only a few feet away.

  Diann was his wife. Which meant that whoever Frank was talking to was not. But it was someone he loved, or said he loved, two things that, for Frank, might not be quite the same thing.

  It sounded like Frank was having an affair.

  Now what? Should Mia just stay hidden and hope he didn’t see her? Pop out and pretend to have heard nothing?

  Meanwhile, her hand continued mindlessly on the task she had set it: pulling on the plug. At that moment it came free—just as her thumb slipped between the two prongs while they were still conducting electric current.

  The next thing Mia knew she was no longer under the desk, but sitting on the floor next to Judy’s chair. Her skirt was rucked up and tears were running down her face. It felt like someone had stuck a thousand needles in her thumb and then the pain had blasted through her whole body.

  “Mia!” Frank was leaning over her. How long had he been there? Feeling like a rag doll, she lifted her head.

  “What are you doing on the floor?”

  What was she doing on the floor? What had just happened? It felt so cataclysmic that it seemed like Frank should be shaking and crying too, but instead his face was screwed up with concern. Concern and confusion.

  “I, um, came up to get some files. Judy left her fan on. I couldn’t find the switch, so I was trying to unplug it. I think I might have gotten shocked.” Gingerly she touched the thumb with her fingers. There was no wound, but the ball seemed oddly smooth, as if it had melted. She straightened her skirt, then, using Judy’s desk and chair for balance, she pushed herself to her feet. Frank hovered over her, hands outstretched.

  “You certainly shocked me. I didn’t even know you were here, and the next minute you come flying back from under Judy’s desk, screaming.” If Frank was concerned about whether she had overheard him, his face didn’t show it. Instead, he said, “I’m a little worried about you, Mia. After all, somebody tried to kill you Monday. Maybe once this shopping cart case is put to bed, you should take some time off. You can’t just keep going like the Energizer bunny and not expect it to catch up with you.”

  “About the shopping cart case . . . ,” Mia b
egan. She had to tell Frank, but at the same time she was reluctant to.

  “Yes? Have you decided?”

  “I’m going to call Tracy Lowe tonight and tell her I’m not going to be charging them as adults.” She would give Tracy all her notes, and then Tracy would file the charges. Tomorrow there would be a bond hearing to see if the two boys would remain in custody. If Mia were Tracy, she would argue for their being held. But she wasn’t Tracy, and in a few hours this wouldn’t be her case.

  Frank narrowed his eyes but kept quiet.

  “Look, Frank, I can’t justify charging them as adults. A few hours ago Charlie and I were finally able to interview Manny Flores. He says it’s his fault the cart tipped over. That he was trying to grab it from them, and instead he made them lose their grip.”

  “And you believed him? Maybe he was just trying to cover for his friends. Friends with criminal records.”

  “Jackson has a criminal record, but it’s not particularly violent. And Dylan is borderline crazy. Frank, I am telling you, it would not serve justice to try them as adults. I’m sorry. I even thought about charging them as adults in a preliminary complaint, then filing an amended complaint after the election is over.” She phrased it as if Frank hadn’t suggested that very move. “But I just can’t do it. You told me to make the best choice, and this is it. But I know Raines will rake you over the coals for it.”

  After a long moment he shrugged. “If that’s what you say should be done, then that’s what should be done. And Raines is going to rake me over the coals either way.”

  For a moment Mia wanted to hug him. Then she remembered his phone conversation and the impulse faded. “How are things going with the campaign?” she asked instead.