White Offerings

by Roberts, Ann

  “That guy is so transparent,” Andre said when they got in their car. “Do you think he killed Itchy?”

  “Oh, he’s definitely involved.”

  She could feel the acid in her stomach starting to churn. There was something bothering her, something she knew she should remember from their meeting with Rondo, and she was missing it. She pulled her notebook from her jacket pocket and drew a circle. She put Itchy at the center and drew circles around him. She included Rondo, Carnotti and Rusty. The she added one more and put a question mark in the middle. Her stomachache flared at the thought of a fellow officer on the take. Yet it was too coincidental. She thought of Jack Adams and his hunches. He was highly respected, and Carnotti must have sighed in relief when Jack stepped away from his suspicions. She pulled her cell phone out and punched in the numbers for Sol Gardener’s secretary. It clicked immediately to voice mail, and Molly found herself relieved.

  “Hey, Mona, it’s Molly Nelson. Can you call me back on my cell? I need the number for Jack Adams.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Wednesday, October 18th

  1:45 PM

  Ari’s morning was an enjoyable whirlwind of activity. As a real estate agent, the best part of her job was a closing, a moment when she got to present a buyer with the keys to his new house or a seller with the good news that the deal was sealed and a check was waiting. Either way meant a payday for her and today she closed two transactions, a rare but lucrative event. Of course, one of the deals had stalled in escrow over bureaucratic paperwork by an incompetent title officer, and she should have been paid two weeks before. But she always welcomed a commission—even if it was late. And two in the same day was a great boost for the ego, particularly in a slumping economy.

  It was after one o’clock when she finally returned to Southwest Realty after traversing the valley to attend meetings at the different title companies. As she checked her phone messages, a figure crossed the yard pushing a wheelbarrow full of bricks. At first she thought it was Gilberto, the man who gardened for Lorraine, but she realized it was a woman—Jane’s handy-dyke, Teri. She watched Teri stack the bricks into neat piles and cordon off a section of the yard for a planter. Curious, Ari cradled the phone and went out back.

  Teri looked up and grinned. “Hey, Ari.”

  “Hi, Teri. It’s great to see you, but don’t you have enough to do working on Jane’s investment?”

  Teri wiped her hands on her jeans. “You can’t tell Jane I’m here. She would have a fit if she knew I was still doing odd jobs on the side. The fact is, I need the money and I can’t do anything else on the house today. I have the time, but Jane would never understand. Can you keep my secret?”

  “Sure.” Ari noticed a planter design sketched haphazardly on a piece of paper, which Teri had pinned to the wooden fence. “I didn’t realize you knew Lorraine or that you did landscaping. Your talent is really amazing.”

  Teri blushed and kicked her boot against the grass. “Thanks. I met Lorraine a few years ago when she hired me to remodel this place. I’ve done construction practically my entire life, since I got out of high school. I just like the idea of creating the whole picture, you know. I have these plans for my dream house, and I’ve designed every detail—inside and out.”

  Ari could hear the pride in Teri’s voice. She also longed for a home and was tired of living in a condo. Yet she had no idea what she would want, and she hadn’t taken any steps to change her life. Her relationship with Molly was probably a factor, but she didn’t want to analyze it. She pointed to the bricks. “So what will go in these planters?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. Because of the exposure, I won’t plant anything that can’t withstand the heat. The sun’s going to shine directly on this area for most of the day, so we don’t want flowers here that are really fragile. They’ll die in a week.”

  At the mention of flowers, Ari’s ears pricked up. “Do you know a lot about flowers?”

  Teri shrugged. “I’m not a horticulturist, but I’ve studied on my own.”

  “Do you have a garden at your place?”

  “No, I live in an apartment, so I have to get my fix working for other people.” Teri glanced at her watch and grabbed her pick. “And I need to get started if I’m going to be back at Jane’s investment before she comes by.”

  Ari stepped away. “I won’t keep you. See you, Teri.”

  “Hey, Ari, how is Jane doing? I heard about what happened.”

  “She’s holding up. I think she’s more upset than she wants anyone to believe.”

  “So she’s staying with you?” Teri’s voice quivered as she asked the question, as though she were disappointed.

  “Yeah, I gave her my spare bedroom. She never wants to go back to her condo.”

  Teri nodded and dropped the pick into the lawn. “I guess that’s understandable.”

  Ari watched as she ripped a line in the ground, focused on her work. Ari returned to her office and settled into her chair. Her gaze wandered out to Teri, who had found her rhythm with the pick, now an extension of her muscled arms. Ari couldn’t help herself. Watching Teri was like watching a living sculpture. Her body was flawless. She blinked and shook her head. Why was she having these thoughts? She replayed the exchange from the beginning, when she saw Teri through the window and walked outside. She’d glanced at the bricks, Teri had spoken with her and she’d seen the sketch—and the stationery with the yellow marigold emblem from Cavanaugh Flowers.

  Ari wheeled back around to her computer and pulled up the Cavanaugh Flowers Web site. She scrolled through the home page, learning that the company was the oldest flower shop in Surprise. The Webmaster had included some photos of Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh, as well as a few of the shop. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but she read every word carefully and clicked through all of the links, learning that orchids were indeed very expensive, and she would never pay the price for an elephant orchid. She clicked back to the home page and glanced through her window. She could just go ask Teri if she worked for Cavanaugh Flowers, but if Teri was Jane’s stalker, she wasn’t sure how wise that would be, confronting a crazy woman with a pick. She let out a deep breath. Could Teri really be the stalker? She’d known Jane for a while and seemed to have little interest in her romantically. From what Jane had said Teri had rejected her, which wouldn’t give her much motive. Yet Ari’s conversation with Teri in the yard was weird. She sensed there was energy between Teri and Jane that she couldn’t place. Perhaps it was just Teri’s concern—or perhaps it was more. She scrolled through the thumbnails on the Cavanaugh Flowers home page once more, and one photo caught her attention. It was an exterior shot of the greenhouse. At the edge of the picture was the corner of a truck. She enlarged the photo and confirmed her suspicions. The photographer had accidentally included the tailgate of a rusty, banana-yellow Dodge pickup that looked exactly like Teri’s truck.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Wednesday, October 18th

  6:48 PM

  As was her custom, Molly saved her paperwork for Wednesday nights, the middle of the week, when she knew she could stay as late as she needed. It was her night away from Ari, and while she would have much preferred to be in Ari’s arms, she took a sense of comfort in having the time alone in the building, when she could work in peace and look out on the streets from her fourth-story window. Downtown was busy tonight, and cars streamed toward the parking garages and the Phoenix Suns’ game. She watched the headlights, glowing white eyes slithering along, energizing the downtown’s nightlife.

  She glanced at the file on her desk—Itchy’s file—and the gruesome pictures of his body. She flipped through the M.E.’s report again, focusing on the bruise under his eye. Dr. Haynes had confirmed that the indentation was most likely that of a ring with a significant stone. Rondo had worn no jewelry, but that didn’t mean anything. She would need to check around and see if people usually saw him wearing a ring. Judging by the size of his hands, any ring that fit his finge
r would be huge. He was definitely the prime suspect, only because there was no one else. She realized that the actual doer could have been most anyone on Carnotti’s payroll, but she liked John Rondo, and his connection to the original meeting place Itchy had mentioned tied him to the crime.

  Her phone rang and she absently flipped it open. “Nelson.”

  “Detective Nelson, this is Jack Adams.”

  Molly’s eyes widened and she lost her breath. She’d left a message for him earlier and spent half an hour thinking of what she would say. Now, she couldn’t even remember the first three lines of her speech, designed to show off her professionalism and uncanny ability for police work. Jack Adams was a legend in the Phoenix P.D., but his role as Ari’s father was far more significant to her. “Thanks for calling me back,” she said automatically. “Sol Gardener thought you might be able to help me. I’m working on a case involving Vince Carnotti.”

  “Really? Well, it took a long time, but I knew that slime would surface again. Tell me the details.”

  She laid out the circumstances, describing Itchy’s confession and his subsequent murder. “I’m looking at a guy named John Rondo, Carnotti’s cousin. Does his name sound familiar?”

  Adams sighed. “Maybe. There were lots of wiseguys and witnesses that came up. After Louie Noe was killed, we dug through Carnotti’s life very carefully. I could have written that asshole’s family tree by the time I was done.”

  She scribbled down the name. “Was Louie Noe the undercover cop that was killed?”

  “Yeah. Really a stand-up guy. He’d gotten pretty deep into Carnotti’s organization. We were just about to bring him out and use his evidence to nail Carnotti when he wound up in a Dumpster. Never caught the killer, and the investigation went south after that.”

  Molly’s pen stopped moving, and she noticed Adams’s voice had faltered. When he offered nothing else, she assumed that his memories were tied to Ari and his wife. “So you got any advice?”

  “I’d go back through Louie’s file. That was ’ninety-three. Check my notes. I reference about five other cases in there, all murders and drug deals tied to Carnotti. Louie Noe’s death was really the last piece. The trail went cold after that. It was almost like Carnotti packed up his operation, but he just went underground. I always thought there was a leak. Somebody was on the take and that’s why Louie wound up dead. You solve that mystery, Nelson, and I’ll owe you.”

  Molly brightened at the idea of being in Jack Adams’s favor, particularly before Ari introduced them. “Thanks, Jack. You’ve been a big help.”

  Adams scoffed. “I ain’t done shit. Biggest disappointment in my career was not catching Louie’s killer. You need any more help or if you just want to bounce ideas, call me anytime. Got that?”

  She smiled. She couldn’t help but like him, despite his problems with Ari. “You bet. Thanks.”

  She hung up and went in search of Louie Noe’s file. She nodded to a few rookies as she boarded the elevator and pressed “B” for basement. The doors opened to a dimly lit room and a damp smell. She knew this place had been forgotten each time the city remodeled the police station. There was never enough money, and since only Doug Dailey, the records manager, had to live down here every day, there weren’t enough complaints to warrant action. She inhaled and it felt like a thousand mold spores clogged her lungs.

  She flipped a light switch and noticed little change, except an extra level of gray washed over the room, exposing the maze of shelves and file cabinets. While much information was now stored electronically, she knew that boxes and file folders would always be a part of police work, and Doug would always have a job. She wandered down a row of filing cabinets, searching for the mid-’90s. The room was spotted in shadows, the fluorescent tubes poorly placed. It was the reason cops located the files and checked them out. A person could go blind trying to read in the bad lighting. She turned one more corner of cabinets and knew she was getting closer, having passed 1992. She twisted and turned with the aisle, realizing there was no real logic to the organization. Doug, who had been with the department for thirty-two years, merely added another cabinet at the end of the trail each time it was necessary, creating a winding gauntlet around the room.

  Her eyes focused on the typewritten placards on the face of each drawer. She frowned when she realized the drawer she needed was at the floor level. She squatted and pulled it open, trying to balance herself and thumb through the manila files at the same time, which had been squashed together tightly. Wouldn’t want an inch of space to go unused, she thought. Halfway through the drawer she found Louis Noe. She pulled out the thick file and checked the information inside. Jack Adams’s name was listed prominently. She closed the file, just as a weird sensation drifted over her. She suddenly felt she wasn’t alone. Her gaze swept down the row, but she saw no one. “Anybody here?” she called.

  She listened carefully—and heard feet. They were hurrying to the exit. She grabbed the file and ran back through the maze. A few times she veered the wrong way, and she cursed under her breath. Just as she came upon the center aisle, the one leading directly to the elevator, she heard the polite ding and saw the doors close, on an apparently empty car.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Thursday, October 19th

  11:55 AM

  “We’re sorry we’ve wasted so much of your time, Ari. I guess James and I need to communicate better about what we want.”

  James and Rochelle Ferguson glared at each other, working to preserve a sliver of civility in her presence. James nodded stiffly in her direction and headed toward the car, not bothering to acknowledge his wife. Ari remained on the sidewalk with Rochelle, and the two of them watched James start the car and stare out the windshield. Ari could see the anger in his face from twenty feet.

  “He’s not usually like this,” Rochelle said. “I thought he wanted to buy a house and start a family.” Her voice trailed off in disappointment. When she faced Ari, tears streaked her cheeks. “We’ll call you in a few days. I’m sure we’ll be ready by then.”

  Ari watched Rochelle join her husband. He gunned the engine and the Corvette sped from the curb. She sighed, knowing it was unlikely they would call back. Another lost commission. Oh, well. She could always eat macaroni and cheese for a month.

  They had bickered throughout the morning, James clearly annoyed that Rochelle had phoned a real estate agent. He barely noticed any of the homes, his gaze rarely leaving the floors as they previewed six different houses. Rochelle’s attempts to involve him were answered with grunts or unenthusiastic comments of “That’s nice.”

  Instead of purchasing a home, they would probably hire attorneys for a divorce. Ari had seen it before. Jane called it the “Homebuyer Hail Mary,” when a couple made a last-ditch effort to resuscitate their marriage by joining together in a paper nightmare—a mortgage.

  She retreated inside and heard Lorraine’s exuberant laughter. Only one person made her laugh that hard, her eldest daughter, Lupe. Since Lorraine had started her family at such a young age, Lupe was more like a sister than a child. Ari paused in the doorway, and Lorraine motioned for her to come inside. She wrapped up her conversation, still laughing as she replaced the receiver onto the cradle.

  “That daughter of mine has the most unusual life. A few guys came in for lunch yesterday while she was tending bar and asked her to be part of a commercial.”

  Ari’s eyes narrowed. Lupe was incredibly attractive, and Ari’s natural suspiciousness prickled. “Are you sure it’s legitimate?”

  Lorraine shook her head. “No, that’s why I’m having them checked out, without Lupe knowing, of course.”

  “You wouldn’t be calling Biz Stone, would you?”

  “Yes. She’s done some work for me in the past. Do you know her?”

  Ari squirmed in her chair and she hoped she wasn’t blushing. “I met her a few days ago. Jane hired her.”

  “Good idea. Biz is the best. I’ve known her for three years, and she’s except
ional at what she does.”

  “Has she ever told you the story of how she changed her name?”

  “Yes.” Lorraine’s face melted into a puddle, and Ari thought she might cry. “So sad and far too familiar to me.”

  Ari knew that Lorraine’s ex-boyfriend, the father of her children, had tormented her physically and verbally for years. “So, do you think Biz is the kind of person to hold a grudge?”

  Lorraine chuckled and leaned back in her chair. “Ari, I would never want to cross that woman. She does tend to fixate, and she won’t let go. If there’s something she wants, she goes after it until she gets it.”

  Ari wondered if what Biz wanted was Jane—or her.

  “Why are you asking? Is everything okay?”

  She nodded, not wanting to involve her boss in the drama. “Yeah, it’s fine. Hey, how do you know Teri?”

  Lorraine looked up from her computer. “Oh, she works for Delores and Mitch Cavanaugh. I sold them their condo a few years back, and I met Teri. They call her their adopted niece. There’s nothing she can’t fix, and she’s amazing with flowers.”

  “I met Mrs. Cavanaugh the other day. She was one of the florists we questioned.”

  “Well, I’m sure she isn’t stalking Jane, but the woman knows her flowers.” Lorraine reached for a contract on her desk. “Hey, has the Morales home inspection happened yet?”

  “No, I was going to call.”

  “Good,” Lorraine said.

  Ari left her and went back to her office. She had much to do, but her thoughts wandered back to Teri and Biz. Either one of them could be harboring a grudge against Jane for her carefree attitude about romance. She pulled up Biz Stone’s Web site, noticing it was nothing flashy, just basic information about the services provided. There were no pictures, which didn’t surprise her. A PI craved anonymity. Biz didn’t even mention her address, and all Ari knew was that it was located in the Sunnyslope area of Phoenix. She scrolled to the bottom of the screen, and her jaw dropped when she saw the name of Biz’s Webmaster: flowerpower. It most likely was a coincidence, but she was tired of all the flower references that surrounded Jane’s case. The suspect list was growing, not shrinking.