“I’ve seen you guys at school. I’ve even heard you joking around. Something about Ivy being an apple?”
Chris said nothing for a moment, and then, barely audible: “She was a bite-sized apple.”
Veronica tried to wrap her head around this, but nothing came to her. “A bite-sized apple?” she said, hoping simple reflection would prompt an explanation.
“You know, it’s like a joke. It’s like, guys—some girls, guys call them apples, cause everyone gets a bite. But I always told Ivy she was a bite-sized apple. Just one bite.”
“Oh,” Veronica said, and recalled the poster. “But she was even more than that to you, wasn’t she? She was the only apple.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice husky.
“I’m sorry, Chris, this must be very hard,” Veronica said. Time to take another chance. She waited until the server brought Chris’s coffee, and he had poured three creamers into it, as well as three sugar packets. As he stirred, she said, “It must have bothered you that she spent so much time with Roadie.”
Chris squinted his eyes. “Roeder? That slimebag? Yeah. She should have stayed away from him. She was like, obsessed, though. I’ll never get why.”
“Roeder is his name? I thought it was ‘Roadie,’ like a nickname or something.”
“No. Tim Roeder. R-O-E-D-E-R. He went to Eleanor, like two years ago.”
“Do you think Roeder had something to do with what happened to her?” Veronica asked.
Chris shook his head. “No way. That guy’s too much of a loser. And he didn’t care about her at all. He had no reason to hurt her.” His frown deepened and he met her eyes for the first time. “Wait. Do you think Roeder hurt her?”
Veronica pursed her lips and shrugged. She wasn’t about to say anything concrete, but if she fanned the flames of Chris’s obvious dislike for this Tim Roeder, maybe he would give her more information.
“That—that piece of shit—I’m going to—I’ll—”
But what she didn’t need was to send Chris off in a homicidal rage.
“Look, Chris, I don’t know anything for sure, okay?” she said. “Roeder may have nothing to do with it. But the police are investigating other angles right now. I just want to make sure they don’t miss anything important.”
Chris slumped, the fire going out as fast as it had lit. “What do you care?”
“Ivy was one of my students a year ago,” Veronica lied, hoping he wouldn’t ask what subject, and if he already knew Veronica taught French, that he wouldn’t know Ivy had never taken it. “She was a cool kid. Really tough. It was obvious she’d been through a lot.”
The server appeared at their side, saving Veronica from answering awkward questions.
“What’ll you have?” the server asked.
Veronica nodded to Chris. He was a teenage boy—no doubt he’d be starving even if he’d already eaten at home.
“The big stack,” Chris said. “And bacon.”
“I’ll just have a short stack,” Veronica said. “With a cup of tea, please.”
The server turned on her heel and departed.
“So tell me about Tim Roeder,” Veronica said.
“He’s just a loser pot dealer. Or he was. He found religion and now he doesn’t even do that, and back when he was dealing it was the only reason anybody ever hung out with him.” At this admission, Chris eyed her, calculating whether she would going to lecture him about the pot, no doubt.
“He found religion?” she said by way of displaying her lack of interest in such things.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “Some church. He used to talk about growing pot all the time, and then after he converted or whatever he talks about his church all the time. All the bullshit they say about gay people. Church is stupid.”
“But Ivy liked him?”
Chris shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t know why. I think she got stoned with him a couple of times and they had deep conversations or something. She always said we didn’t get him. Maybe it’s cause they both didn’t have real families. Her foster mom was okay and all, but she was always talking about her real mom, and Roeder’s real mom is dead or something, so they had that in common, sort of.”
Veronica fiddled with her spoon, trying to think of what she could ask that would help her understand Roeder’s connection to Robert Murphy. “Who did Roeder hang out with?”
“I don’t know. It used to be just kids, mostly from his year, you know, the ones that didn’t go to college. And we knew him because—um, because of the pot.” He watched her, and Veronica kept her face neutral. “But now I never see him, and neither did Ivy. He didn’t want to hang out anymore. That’s why she started going all stalker.”
Veronica nodded. The server returned with a tray of food and set their dishes down before them. Chris dug in immediately, shoveling food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days. Veronica picked at her short stack of pancakes and pulled the bag of Lipton out of the mug of hot water the server set down a moment later. The tea was as dark as black coffee. Veronica didn’t mind over-steeped tea, if it was decent quality to begin with, but Lipton was not among her favorites. She wrinkled her nose after taking a sip.
“He’s into computers,” Chris said after a few moments of uninterrupted eating. “He got a job on one of those nerd computer techie teams at some computer store like Best Buy. It might even be Best Buy. I guess he had to, since he wasn’t selling pot anymore. He played Warcraft for a while, but not lately.”
“Warcraft is an online game?” Veronica clarified.
Chris nodded.
“Chris, did you ever hear Roeder mention someone named Robert Murphy?”
The boy shrugged and shook his head. “Nope.”
Veronica watched him put the food away in a steady rhythm. It was time to talk to Daniel, she knew. She’d just make one quick detour over to Alcott Street on her way.
Chapter 18
One side of Alcott Street ran along the Sacramento County Cemetery. On the other side, between 25th and 27th, was the Linksward Christian Church of Purification. Frowning, Veronica contemplated the medium-sized church. She had heard of it. The LCCP was famous for demonstrating on the Capitol steps as well as during veterans’ funerals, all in the name of protesting the existence of gay people. Their actions were repugnant. If she hadn’t spoken to Chris that morning, Veronica might have discounted the church and assumed Ivy was just hanging out in the cemetery, something she knew some teens liked to do. Veronica never had—cemeteries were not conducive to avoiding dialogues with the dead, something she was committed to when she was in her teens. But because Chris had mentioned Roeder’s religious conversion, Veronica decided that Linksward Church might be worth a closer look. Chris said something about how Roeder had talked about his church and its condemnation of gay people. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Leaving her blue Honda parked on the curb, she walked up to the church. The front doors were locked. She walked around to the side. A black letter board hung next to the side door, listing subjects such as Bible Study, Financial Planning, Basic Sewing, Horticulture, Wedding Planning, and Beginning Computer Use, and opposite each, there was a room number. The LCCP had classes—it seemed like such an innocuous aspect to the otherwise infamously hateful church. Veronica tried the door but it too was locked.
She made her way around to the church, where a man was trimming a hedge along the back wall of the building. Veronica came to a stop and considered bolting for her car, but the man straightened and nodded at her in a civilized fashion. After everything she’d read and heard about the LCCP congregation, she expected every one of them to behave like crazed harpies, but this man, who pulled off his dirty baseball cap to wipe the sweat from his bald head, seemed ordinary enough. “Can I help you?” he asked.
Sucking up her courage, Veronica took a few steps towards him. “I’m just looking for Tim Roeder.”
The man tucked his hat back on his head and squinted at her. “Roeder… Roeder… name’s familiar.”
>
“Young guy, dark-rimmed glasses.”
“Oh, Timothy. Sure. The computer teacher. You taking his class?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I don’t know the schedule. But nobody’s supposed to be here until Thursday night, as far as I know. Could be wrong, though.”
“That’s alright, thanks.”
Veronica gave him a smile and hurried back to her car. She had officially gathered as much information as she dared without involving Daniel. It was time to seek him out and fill him in on what she’d found.
~~~
Veronica entered the station confidently enough, but as she made her way to the desks where the detectives made their calls and did their paperwork, her steps slowed. She found she was eager to see Daniel again, that she had missed him—but what if he hadn’t missed her? What if the flowers had been from Eric, and she asked Daniel about them, and it ticked him off all over again?
As she approached his desk, Daniel looked up. When he saw her, he stood immediately.
Veronica’s pace quickened and she found herself face to face with him, a few feet from him, wanting more than anything to put her arms around his neck and feel his body against hers. But she didn’t dare bridge the last of the distance that separated them.
“Ronnie,” he said, and smiled.
“Hey,” she responded, and took one more step towards him.
“I called you yesterday,” he said.
Veronica grimaced. “My phone died. I’m sorry.”
“I went by your place, but you must have been… out.”
She shook her head. “I went to yoga with Melanie. Oh, Daniel, you will never believe the mess Melanie is in. And I’ve been busy with some other things. To do with the case,” she added quickly.
“The case?” he echoed.
Veronica took his hand. His skin felt like silk and all she wanted in that moment was to be alone with him, minus several articles of clothing. Had she really clung to resentment over that stupid dress and his jealousy? It seemed so petty now. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I’m so sorry, Daniel. The whole thing with Eric… it’s done now, I promise.”
Daniel bowed his head. “I’m sorry, too, Ronnie. I acted like such an insecure jerk.” He met her eyes, and his expression was warm. “Did you get the flowers?”
“They are beautiful,” Veronica said.
“I looked up Audrey Hepburn. I googled ‘Audrey Hepburn flowers.’ I guess she had lilies of the valley for a wedding bouquet. It must have been popular because so did Grace Kelly. Anyway, I thought—I can’t buy you an Audrey Hepburn dress, but I can buy you Audrey Hepburn flowers—”
Veronica sighed and took a step back. “Daniel, do you really think I need you to buy me anything? Do I come off as that materialistic to you?”
Daniel shook his head. “No, of course not, Ronnie, but Melanie made me realize I’m been taking you for granted. All this time you were coming over to my place and taking care of me when I was injured, and we haven’t done anything really fun in months, and I never do anything romantic. I just wanted to show you can do stuff like that too.” Her hand was still in his and he pulled her close again. “Veronica Barry, will you go out on a date with me?”
The way he asked was eerily close to the question she’d been afraid he was going to spring on her before, which made her shiver. But on reflection, she realized the shiver wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “I’d love to,” she said.
He grinned and leaned in for a quick kiss, then stepped back and looked around. Officers, detectives, and other staff, as well as several witnesses and collars who stood and sat around the room had clearly found this entire exchange quite entertaining, and a few clapped now.
“As you were,” Daniel called out. He turned back to Veronica. “So. Tell me what you were doing that had to do with the case.”
~~~
First, Veronica gave Daniel the phone bill Ivy’s foster mother had given her, then she filled Daniel in on everything she could think of: the parade vision when she’d touched Kaufmann’s hand—which he knew about already from her email—her visit to Sarah Berkovich in the hospital and the vision she’d had of Posey and Donohue meeting Ivy after her argument with Roeder in the park, her identification of Roeder as the murderer, and his connection to the LCCP, and finally the dream about Leopold Victor posing as Antoine Jossey.
“That’s interesting. I came up with nothing when I tried to figure out who Jossey was. I’ll get Amanda to see what she can come up with about Leopold Victor,” Daniel said, sending an email to one of the station’s volunteers. When he was done, Daniel shook his head. They sat, knees touching, at his desk. “You know I don’t like you investigating this stuff on your own.”
Veronica rolled her eyes. “All I did was talk to a couple of people and visit the outside of a church. Hardly anything dangerous.”
With a sigh, Daniel nodded. “Well, you did good. Some serious blanks are filled now, and the puzzle is starting to make sense.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve been trying to figure out who wanted to kill Murphy. He teaches horticulture at the LCCP, did you know that?”
Veronica shook her head.
“About twelve years ago he got into trouble for sending ricin powder to a scientist at Stanford University.”
“Ricin powder,” Veronica said. “That’s a poison, right?”
“He cultivated it himself. Grew castor plants. He’s quite an expert botanist, he used to teach at Berkeley. I guess the guy at Stanford was a rival. Murphy went away for eight years, but got out in seven for good behavior.”
“Is that why he was on the terrorist watch list?”
“It has to be. And of course when he got out of jail, no university would employ him. He worked as a landscaper and eventually started giving classes at the LCCP. I guess they didn’t mind his checkered past.”
“I don’t expect they’d be super discerning,” Veronica said.
Daniel nodded. “I’m not sure whether Murphy was into the whole ‘Die Gays Die’ campaign, but as something of an extremist himself, I’m sure he fit right in with the LCCP’s culture.”
“So Roeder met Murphy because they both taught classes at the LCCP.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Daniel said.
“But why did Roeder kill Murphy? And what does it have to do with the parade?”
“You said there were veterans in your vision,” Daniel said. “Right?”
“Yeah,” Veronica nodded. “In the parade. They drank bottled water. Like the kind Kaufmann’s company produces.”
Daniel peered at the papers on his desk, unseeing. “I think maybe Roeder and Murphy were planning to up the ante from picketing veteran funerals to killing veterans outright.”
“But did Murphy ever do anything to make you think he was into that? I mean, it sounds like he was just targeting someone for personal—or maybe professional—reasons when he sent the ricin. It doesn’t sound like he was motivated by ideology.”
“We can’t be sure. I need to talk to Pastor Haines,” Daniel said. “I have his number right here.” He shuffled the papers, produced a sheet with a list of names and numbers, and picked up the handset of his phone, punching in the number with his index finger.
Veronica sat listening as hard as she could—the station was busy and noisy, and she couldn’t make out what the voice on the other end said when it answered.
“This is the Sacramento Police, Detective Seoung speaking,” Daniel said. “Please put me through to Pastor Haines.”
After a moment, another voice came on, but Veronica still couldn’t make out what it said.
“Pastor Haines, Detective Daniel Seoung speaking. I need to ask you some questions in connection with a murder investigation,” Daniel said. “Would you prefer to come to me, or shall I come to you?”
Veronica admired the confidence in his voice. She smiled at him and he winked at her.
“Well, now sounds good to me, Pastor. I trus
t you’d prefer to get this out of the way as soon as possible?”
The voice on the other end sounded irritated. The pastor apparently didn’t like being interrupted in his hatemongering to answer questions in a murder investigation.
“As I said, I can come to you. Or would you rather I send a squad car to pick you up and bring you here?”
After a short burst from the pastor, Daniel gave a satisfied nod. “We’ll be there shortly, sir.”
He hung up and grinned at Veronica.
“Want to come with?” he asked. She returned his grin and took his hand.
~~~
When they pulled up to the church on Alcott Street, Veronica was surprised to see police officers at the side door of the church, and a lanky, graying man in a suit standing near the curb talking to a young man with blond hair. Daniel parked the car. Veronica followed Daniel as he approached the men.
“Pastor Haines?” he asked.
The man in the suit gave him a stiff nod. The younger man shifted uncomfortably.
Veronica tried to see past them, to what the officers were doing. The pastor followed her gaze. “Vandals!” he said sharply, causing her to jump. “They broke the lock on the door. They went in and trashed a classroom, painted the walls…it’s a hate crime!”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Daniel said.
Veronica frowned. She’d been there at the most two hours before, and the man with the hedge clippers hadn’t been finished with his work. Whoever broke the lock must have done it in the last hour or so.
“Let me tell you something, Detective,” Pastor Haines said, stepping closer to Daniel. His hands were fisted at his sides. “We are protected under the First Amendment. We have a right to free exercise of religion, free speech, and freedom of assembly! You can’t turn a blind eye to this! We have been victimized, and I demand justice!”
“Dad…” the young man beside him breathed.
Daniel’s face was neutral. “I understand, sir, but that is not why I am here.”
Pastor Haines glared at Daniel for a moment, and then visibly forced himself to relax, loosening his fists. “So what can I do for you, Detectives?” Haines asked, passing a skeptical eye over Veronica—she knew she didn’t fit the part of a detective at all today. While Daniel wore a buttoned up short-sleeve shirt and khakis, she was still in her denim skirt and flowery blouse, flip flops on her feet.
The Plane and the Parade (Veronica Barry Book 3) Page 19