by J. C. Kenney
Ted interrupted my train of thought by joining us.
“What have you got for me, Allie?”
I nodded to Felicia, hoping she’d understand the gesture as a thank-you, and followed Ted to his office.
It was like Bilbo entering Smaug’s lair. A palpable sense of doom came over me as I eased myself into the seat across from the man.
He smiled. It was an easy gesture, almost hypnotic.
I shook my head. It was nothing of the sort. It was a salesman doing his thing. The man was harmless.
“Here are some mockups for your review.” I slid the artwork the committee had agreed upon toward him.
“Great. Let’s take a look.”
With an athleticism that age hadn’t diminished, he eased into his chair as he plucked a red pen from a holder on his desk. After a moment to study the mockup, he set to work with the pen.
I brushed aside my annoyance that he wanted to change the committee’s work. But he was our biggest donor. As the old saying went, rank hath its privileges.
Instead, I turned my attention to the photos behind him. My gaze drilled in on the shot of Ted and his wife on a boat. The image sent the gears in my mind into motion.
Ted looked up. “Something the matter?”
“No. I was admiring that picture of you and your wife. Looks like an amazing boat. Is it yours?”
“I wish. Between the maintenance they need, getting them in and out of the water, and winter storage, that’s more work than I want to take on. That boat belongs to a friend. You know that saying about pools, right?”
“The only thing better than owning a pool is having a friend who owns a pool.”
“Exactly.” He laughed. “The same can be said for boats.”
The man had a point. One of the fringe benefits Rachel enjoyed as owner of the Rushing Creek Public House was access to the indoor pool at the adjacent Rushing Creek Inn. She liked to take the twins there, especially during the winter, so they could burn off pent-up energy. Sleep was never a problem the night of a trip to the pool.
Ted returned the mockup to me. The changes he wanted weren’t drastic. The committee wouldn’t have any objections to them.
“I’ll get this to our art person and circle back with you.”
He escorted me to the door, but hesitated when he put his hand on the handle.
“I heard the police and mayor tried to put the kibosh on your investigation. Can I assume you’re still at it?”
“I am.” I locked my gaze on his. “Getting close.”
He didn’t flinch or look away. Instead, he winked. “What I wanted to hear. If I was Valerie’s killer, knowing you’re on the case would have me sweating bullets.”
“That’s the way I want it.”
When I finished my rounds, I popped over to Big Al’s to cool off with a Caesar salad and a giant glass of water. I texted Jack Rogers, the committee chair, to see if he was available to join me so I could give him a report.
Ten minutes later he walked through the doorway. He was a good-looking guy. Muscled without looking like a body builder. His confident stride and buzz cut were carryovers from his military service.
I liked Jack a lot. He was a teacher, and his genuine kindness and patience didn’t end when the bell rang to signal the end of the school day. If I didn’t have a beau, I wouldn’t say no if he asked me out.
“What’s the good word, Allie?” He slid into the booth space across from me. “I feel like a gangster, meeting all the way back here. You don’t want me to whack someone, do you?”
I tried a Godfather-style Italian accent. “You’ll know when I want you to make someone an offer they can’t refuse.”
He let out a loud belly laugh.
“Everything okay here?” Al asked as he placed a soft drink in front of Jack.
“No worries.” Jack took a sip of his drink and chuckled again. “Let’s just say that life as a mob boss isn’t exactly part of Allie’s skill set.”
Al and I exchanged a look. Given the dealings I’d had with Al’s brother Willie, who allegedly had deep connections to organized crime, there was little doubt between us I could hold my own against a group of goodfellas.
There was no need to put that belief to the test, though. Discretion being the better part of valor, and all that.
“I dunno. There’s more to Little Ms. Cobb than meets the eye. Watch yourself, Jack.” Al winked at me as he took my cup to refill it.
“Care to explain?” Jack’s eyes were wide. Al’s comment wasn’t what he’d expected. Not by a mile.
“I think not. A woman must have her secrets, after all. Now then, about today.”
At the end of my report, he raised his drink to me. “Amazing work. A month to go and the budget’s fully funded. If we continue to raise funds, maybe we can have the fireworks show people have asked about.”
“You’re okay with the changes Ted wants?”
“If we’d already sent this to the printer, I’d have a problem. The materials aren’t due to them until the end of the week, though. We’ll be fine.”
I let out a stress-releasing breath as I ran my fingers through my hair. It was reassuring to have the committee chair decide Ted’s changes weren’t a problem.
Jack’s phone buzzed. “I gotta get back to school for a department meeting. Anything else?”
“There is, actually.” I told him about my exchange with Ted regarding the boat.
“Huh, that’s weird.” He frowned. “That boat sounds like the one his folks own. They’ve had it for years. Why?”
“I was curious. As hot as this weather’s been, it’d be nice to spend some time on the water.”
“And you’re looking for that friend who owns a boat.” He nodded. “I get it. I’ve got a bass boat. If you want, I’d be happy to take you out on that. Not quite the same, I’ll admit, but it’s still a watercraft and I’m its intrepid captain.”
I cringed in response to the salute he snapped off. “I’ll let you know.”
Once I was alone, I called Officer Tommy Abbott.
“I need some help with something. Can you run a registration check to see if anyone in Ted Borus’s family owns a boat?”
“That’s an oddly random yet specific request. And something I can’t do without having a good reason.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to put him in a bad spot, but the information was critical.
“What if I told you checking that could lead to the arrest of Valerie’s murderer?”
There was silence on the line. I waited. Matt had taught me the value of holding one’s tongue during a conversation. If I opened my mouth, it could give Tommy an excuse to say no.
Jeanette had helped me enough. I didn’t want to go back to her. This was too important to the case. I needed him to say yes.
“So, should I treat this as a call from a tipster?” There was the familiar clicking of a computer keyboard in the background.
“An anonymous one. Like the one I heard you guys got last week. Since, you know, you guys have this investigation totally in hand.”
“And we appreciate the vote of confidence.” The clicking was replaced with the scratching of a pen on paper. “Hmm.”
The scratching continued. The excruciating wait dragged on for what seemed like centuries. There was more clicking and scratching until, at last, Tommy took a breath.
“It turns out Borus Senior’s owned a boat for twenty-five years. Of course, I know that since I’ve been on it a couple of times and not because you asked me to check any boat registries. I know Ted’s sister Molly. Didn’t know the boat’s been in the family for so long. The shape it’s in, they must take good care of it.”
And another piece of the puzzle dropped into place.
“Thanks, Tommy. If you ever want a freebie book, hit me up.”
I needed to talk things out with someone. It was Monday afternoon. Calypso would be starting her shift at the Pub. It was looking like I was going to have an early dinner.
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I blew a kiss to Al as I breezed out the door. The man’s restaurant was turning into my main source for information exchange. For a moment I was horrified at the thought that I was like a drug dealer, working out of the last booth of a restaurant. Thankfully, instead of working in illegal controlled substances, I was working in information to solve crimes.
The secret lair of the Kickboxing Crusader.
Holy cats, Sloane would be in heaven if she ever got word of that thought.
At the Pub, Calypso directed me to a round two-seater table by the front bay window. It wasn’t ideal for a confidential discussion, but it was nice to enjoy the sunshine without being in the brutal heat. And it was her favorite table. I couldn’t begrudge the location since she was helping me.
“This must be serious, Boss. You don’t usually hunt me down like this.”
“Don’t worry, but I do need your help right now.” I told her about the photo in Ted’s office and then getting confirmation that his family owned a boat at the time Valerie was murdered.
“So what?” She shrugged. “Maybe that picture was taken on a friend’s boat.”
Sometimes the young woman’s attitude made me want to strangle her. This time, she was challenging me to think hard about what I was implying.
“Point taken. But what if I’m right? He didn’t say who owned it. Wouldn’t your normally say the picture was taken on so-and-so’s boat?”
“I would, but I don’t have any friends rich enough to own a luxury pleasure craft. Seems to me all you have is a picture on a shelf and confirmation Ted’s parents had a boat at the time.”
I was undeterred by her skepticism. It was making me think. It was helping me line up the remaining puzzle pieces.
“I also have proof he was at a party the same night as Valerie about seven months before she was murdered. Which may have been the night she got pregnant.”
She pulled at some spikes in her hair. “Now you have my attention. Proceed.”
Over the next five minutes, I laid out my theory. When I was finished, Calypso sat quietly for a few moments, her index finger tracing a circle someone had carved into the wooden tabletop.
“Your theory’s got merit. I’ll give you that. It’s not enough to take to the cops, though. What about the boyfriend, Dak? What if his family had a boat, too? Or the dude who crashed his car?”
I sat back, deterred but not defeated. She was right. All I had was a wild theory based upon a few random facts. When it came down to it, I still had three murder suspects.
“I guess I keep digging, then.”
“You could do that.” She got to her feet and smiled. “Or, you could do something like Agatha Christie loved to do. You know, have the main character host a meeting under the pretense of something else. When everyone is there, you tell a story that gets the murderer to freak out and confess.”
We laughed. My phone buzzed. It was a reminder that one of my authors had a new book coming out tomorrow. I looked at my calendar and had another laugh.
“When you’re right, you’re right, Calypso. I think I’ll do just that.”
Chapter Twenty-three
By the time I got home after my check-in with Calypso, my head was overflowing with permutations and scenarios. An intense sixty-minute kickboxing session helped work the accompanying nervous energy out of my system and slow down my thoughts. It wasn’t until I threw my last punch and kick combination that I’d worked out enough anxiety to call it a day.
After a soothing cool shower, I tumbled into bed and was asleep in seconds, with Ursi curled up at my feet. I was getting ever closer to my quarry. It wouldn’t be long now. I could feel it in my bones.
At some point, my furry roommate decided she needed food immediately or she’d die, because I was awoken by her walking all over me. She started at my feet, marched up one leg, over my arm, and came to a stop at my shoulder.
My efforts at ignoring her were fruitless. When I opened my eyes, she bopped her nose against mine and let out a little meh. We’d lived together long enough that, at this point, the battle was lost.
“All right. I live to serve.” I checked my phone and saw it was almost time to get up anyway, so I shuffled to the kitchen and topped off her bowl, which was far from empty. At least in human terms.
With my little princess busy munching on her dry kibble, I started some coffee, then fired up the laptop. Once java cleared the cobwebs, I found my head to be calm and clear. No grogginess. No stress-induced inability to focus. It was a sign of good things to come.
I hoped.
The first thing on my agenda was to post notifications on social media about the author’s new release. While I was comfortable turning bits of the agency’s social media’s responsibilities over to Calypso, it was important for me to be the one who posted good news like contracts, releases, and new clients to the agency chat group.
With that task complete, I spent the rest of the morning editing manuscripts. Due to the nature of my work, I didn’t read for pleasure as often as I liked. There were only so many hours in a day, unfortunately.
Editing my clients’ stories made up for it, though.
While I made my way through a chicken Caesar wrap at lunchtime, I had a new idea about the case. I sent Brent a text asking for another favor. It wasn’t a make-or-break piece of information, but it would help crossing some of the remaining suspects off the list.
He responded before I’d finished my dessert of applesauce and cottage cheese. The attachment he sent made me want to break out into song.
Gotcha.
My phone buzzed to remind me I had a counseling appointment in an hour. God love technology. I often wondered how my parents survived without it. With Brent’s report in hand, I gave Ursi a hug and grabbed my helmet.
I needed another chat with Dak.
Relief rolled through me as I turned into the grocery store’s parking lot. His truck was parked in the same spot as the other day. I wanted the element of surprise, so I came up with a couple of requests to throw him off-balance before I asked my million-dollar question.
“Hey, Dak.” I waved when he looked up from the meat slicer. “Can I get a half pound of thin-sliced turkey.”
“Coming up.” He placed a small pile of Brent’s favorite deli meat on the scale. When he had the right amount, he wrapped it up. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. I’m putting together a special meeting for the 9/11 Memorial committee and other interested parties for tomorrow evening. I could really use you there.”
“What do you need me for?”
“Two reasons. One, I’m going to make a special announcement about Valerie, and I’d like you there since you were her boyfriend. It’s a surprise, so keep it under your hat. Two, Ted’s going to be there, so it might give you a chance to hit him up for the help with the blues fest.”
“Thanks for thinking of me. I can make it if it’s after six.”
“Perfect. Give me your phone number. I’ll text you the info.” Once I had his contact info, I took the package. “Oh, one more thing. I was chatting with some folks over the weekend. Did your family ever own a boat back in the day?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well, I was telling Luke the other day about how someday I want a boat. Nothing too fancy. Just something to get me out on the water and away from it all for a while. I’m thinking of something secondhand to save money. Luke was saying you guys had one, so I guess I’m wondering if you still have it and what maintenance is like.”
“We had a fishing boat with an old Evinrude outboard motor. My dad took us fishing a lot when we were younger. I don’t think that’s the kind of boat you’d want though. Not exactly designed for sunning yourself on the water.”
“Steer clear of fishing boats, Good to know.” In more ways than one. “Thanks. I’ll send you the invite.”
My business with Dak concluded, I pedaled to the library to present Brent with a thank-you gift.
“Hey, you. What did I do to dese
rve this?” Since nobody else was around, he opened the package right there on the checkout desk. “I was always taught to beware strangers bearing gifts.”
“I’m not a stranger.”
“Strange person, then.” He stuffed a handful of turkey into his mouth.
“Fair enough.” I’d been called many things in my life by many people, including Brent. I took being called strange as a compliment.
“I wanted to say thanks for the class list.” I showed him a screenshot of it. “You’re sure this roster is complete?”
“Yep.” He pointed to one name, then another. “That’s the grandmother and that’s the mom.”
That meant Cecil was in the clear. I was down to two. If I could get them at the meeting, I’d be set.
I thanked Brent with a kiss on the cheek and headed back outside. The temperature was in the nineties. Dark clouds were forming in the west. They were the kind of conditions that signaled a storm was brewing.
It would arrive today, tomorrow at the latest. When it did, it would hit with lightning, thunder, and torrential downpours. Stormy weather to accompany stormy times, indeed.
I took a moment to craft a message, then hit Send on my meeting invitation. Something told me the get-together would end up being as wild as the incoming weather.
The final appointment of the day was with my counselor. I was riddled with anxiety as I sat in the chair across from her. I was also in no mood to beat around the bush.
“I know who killed Valerie Briggs.”
Nessie tapped her pen on a yellow legal notepad. “I see we’re cutting to the chase today. Shall I call nine-one-one?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t have any proof.”
“If I’m not mistaken, one should have proof before accusing someone of something as serious as murder. Or has something changed since we last met?”
“Nothing’s changed. Just because I don’t have proof doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” My tone of voice had an edge on it sharp enough to slice through a fresh watermelon in a single stroke.