Deadly Deception

by Rayna Morgan

She stood to leave. “Thanks for the insight. It will help me face the bully until he leaves.”

  “He sounds like a person you should avoid.”

  “You’re the second person to tell me that.”

  The doctor walked her to the door.

  “It’s good to see you, Pat. Call anytime. Good luck with your former boss.”

  Pat walked across the street to the detective agency.

  With the help of her friends, she would have more than luck on her side to deal with Cranston.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The dogs rushed to greet the detective when she entered, drawing Lea to the reception area.

  “Got time for an update?” Pat asked.

  “Sure. Come to my office,” Lea said

  Unwilling to attract her father’s attention by using the conference room, she waved at her sister to join them.

  Maddy began by giving a report on her surveillance of Sheldon. “He drove down your street all right, but he wasn’t going to your place. I followed him past your apartment to Spanish Hills where I found his car parked at a home owned by Laura Gillette. She’s the woman who was flirting with Sheldon at the takeout counter at Wong’s.

  “I overheard her tell Sheldon her husband is out of town. My guess is they’ve hooked up before on similar occasions. Based on what I saw, we can scratch him off the list.”

  “I agree,” Pat said. “I only hope he wises up before he gets caught by an irate husband. If not, I may end up answering a domestic disturbance call at that address.”

  Next, Lea described her meeting with Mary. When she got to the part about shots being fired, they laughed over her encounter with Tom.

  “I was glad you pulled his attention away, Pat, before I had to give a reason for being there. I didn’t want to spill the beans about our investigation, but I knew Tom wouldn’t believe any spur-of-the-moment excuse I came up with.”

  “What’s your take on Mary?” Maddy asked. “Does she harbor ill feelings toward the police?”

  “She claims they’re responsible for her living on the streets. According to Tiger, she holds a grudge against one officer in particular.”

  The sisters looked at Pat.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “The person who arrested her husband.”

  “Mary will blame you until she’s ready to take responsibility for the state of her affairs.”

  “Do you think she’s venting her frustration by trying to frighten me, or does she intend me harm?”

  “It’s hard to say. When I’m certain of her intent, I’ll let you know.”

  “How about you, Pat?” Maddy asked. “Any information on Mickey Flynn’s whereabouts?”

  “Nothing new on his location. But I have doubts about him being the person behind these threats. If Mickey wants me out of the way, why send warnings? Why not go ahead and kill me?”

  Maddy snorted. “I doubt he wants a cop killing on his hands. Even Mickey’s not that dumb.”

  “He tried before with plans to dump me in the ocean.”

  “Without proof, his intent on that occasion is your word against his,” Lea said. “With a good lawyer, he could claim you willingly went on that ride to the airfield.”

  “You could be right. His bodyguards are still in jail, but they’re too scared to turn on him. If his concern is retrieving the recording, he needs me alive to get it from the evidence room. After that…”

  Maddy shuddered. “Let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Besides not being able to eliminate Mickey,” Pat continued, “I may have another name to add to our list.”

  “We’re listening.”

  “Another cop.”

  “I wondered about that,” Maddy said. “After all, you’re the only female on Tom’s squad. I imagine your co-workers aren’t always accepting.”

  “It’s no one here. Everyone in Buena Viaje is fine. I’m talking about my supervisor up north where I was stationed before I transferred.”

  “What was it like, breaking the mold in a male-dominated culture?” Maddy asked.

  “I worked harder than most of the guys to prove myself. At first, they gave me administrative and traffic jobs but I insisted on being sent on regular patrol. I made sure I passed every physical and firearms test. More importantly, I never lost sight of my goal to become a detective.”

  “Were you accepted as an equal?”

  “Not at first, because I made no effort to join the boys’ club by using offensive language or coarse humor. And I had better things to do after work than sit in a bar sharing war stories. My boss considered me standoffish and aloof. Lieutenant Cranston couldn’t accept that I shouldn’t have to fit their mold to be accepted as a member of the team.” Her lips narrowed into a pinched line. “Even more, he resented the fact I wouldn’t spend time with him.”

  “That sounds personal,” Lea said. “Did he make advances?”

  “Once, at the end of a shift when I was putting stuff away. I was tired and glad to call it a night. He came in the locker room and made his way toward me. I looked around, but realized too late that we were alone.”

  “Did he make a move on you?” Maddy asked.

  “He started by sharing an off-color joke. When I didn’t laugh, he moved closer. Close enough for me to smell liquor on his breath.

  ‘You aren’t drinking on duty, are you, Lieutenant?’ I asked him.

  ‘I got off duty an hour ago,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. Thought we could get a drink together. We never got to know each other.’

  His body odors of sweat and alcohol made me want to puke.

  ‘I’ve got plans,’ I told him. ‘Go home to your wife and kids.’

  He got belligerent. ‘I don’t need a woman to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.’

  I tried to brush past. ‘You’ve had enough to drink. Move out of my way.’

  He laughed and reached for my arm.”

  “What did you do?” Lea asked.

  “I lifted my knee in a way to double him over in pain. He called me a bitch. I thought I was clear of him, but he grabbed my shirt from behind and pulled me back. I faced him, angrier than I’ve ever been.

  ‘Back off, you creep,’ I yelled.

  He laughed in my face. ‘Or what, you’ll file a harassment claim? How do you think you’ll be treated by fellow officers if you do? No guy will ride with you or be your partner.’ ”

  “What did you say to that?”

  “I had something to use against him, and he knew it. We don’t need to get into it now. Suffice it to say, my threat was enough to make him back off.

  “After that night, I had no more problems with him but the environment got noticeably chilly. Other officers either picked up his vibe, or he bad-mouthed me. I knew it was time to move on.”

  Lea considered Pat’s story. The more she knew of the detective, the more she admired her strength. “Does being single make things harder?”

  “It’s actually been an advantage. Married policewomen feel pressure spending time away from their children.”

  “Tom says family life helps male officers deal more easily with stress from the job,” Maddy told them. “Policewomen don’t always have the same support from their family.”

  Pat smiled. “A female officer I know describes getting off work as going home to a second shift where she plays the role of caretaker.”

  “I relate,” Lea said. “Even with all the support I receive from Paul and Jon, I sometimes feel that way. I’m sure the demanding hours of police work are considered more acceptable for men than women.”

  “That’s why I feel lucky to have Jack,” Pat said. “As Tom’s brother, he understands the requirements of my job. It helps him accept the complexity of our relationship.”

  Maddy smiled. “We’re both lucky to have an Elliot in our corner. I don’t expect extra consideration when I play detective, but Tom gives me the latitude I need.”

  “Then you understand why I won’t ask Tom for
help. It’s important no one thinks I receive special treatment, especially from him.”

  Lea looked puzzled. “There’s something I don’t understand, Pat. Why do you consider Cranston a suspect when he’s not close enough to carry out a threat?”

  “He apparently has ties to the area. He’ll be here himself soon enough. He’s coming to question me on a case I was involved in years ago. Not that he needs an excuse, but he claims to be combining business with a visit to his cousin.”

  “How convenient,” Maddy exclaimed. “Is the person he wants to get close to his so-called relative, or you?”

  “That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The couple sat at the full-length bar of an upstairs restaurant overlooking the harbor.

  His sun-bleached hair almost matched the color of hers. Hers was clipped back in an understated style by barrettes. His was tousled, as if he’d just come off a surfboard.

  They drank from frosted beer mugs and ate from a basket of boiled shrimp.

  It was Jack Elliot’s last night in town before working a seven-day shift on the offshore oil rig where he supervised a crew of roughnecks.

  He reached in front of her for the rolls. “I figured I’d have your undivided attention tonight since I’ll be gone a week.”

  Pat looked away from the window and pushed the bread toward him. “Sorry. I had unsettling news at work today, that’s all.”

  “Anything you care to share?”

  Jack understood Pat’s reticence to discuss her work. In early stages of their relationship, she explained the department’s mandate for confidentiality and insisted he not worry about her safety. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop worrying. But he respected her need for discretion.

  He smiled. “Scout’s honor, I promise not to tell.”

  She returned his smile. In the past few weeks, she learned to trust him and sought his counsel more often.

  “My former boss is coming to town. He and I don’t get along.”

  “I can’t imagine you not getting along with everyone you work with.”

  She knew better than to tell Jack about Cranston’s unwanted advances. Jack had a temper and a jealous streak that made for a combustible combination. She chose instead to share the less personal aspect of her problems with her former superior.

  “An incident occurred before I transferred.” She traced drops on the side of her mug. “I was partnered one shift with a buddy of Cranston’s. We were conducting a roundup of prostitutes at a local motel. O’Brien stayed behind with a working girl named Daisy while I herded the rest of the women into the paddy wagon. When they came out, O’Brien said Daisy agreed to give information in exchange for not pressing charges. At the station, he took over the interrogation and wrote the report himself.”

  She waited while Jack refilled her glass from the pitcher in front of them.

  “The following night, I drove past the motel and saw his car parked in front of one of the rooms. The next day, there were rumors at the station. I told Cranston I suspected Daisy of giving O’Brien sexual favors to avoid arrest.”

  “That was gutsy.” He took a pull on his beer and licked foam from his lip. “What did your boss say?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “He advised me not to be taken in by locker room gossip.”

  Jack popped a shrimp in his mouth. “Sounds like O’Brien got away with one.”

  Heat crawled up her neck. She fanned her face, unwilling to have her concerns so lightly dismissed.

  “You don’t understand. Exchanging favors for protection from prosecution casts an unfavorable light on the department, especially those of us who are doing the job right. An officer involved in such action should be disciplined for professional misconduct.”

  He held up a hand. “I get that. It’s a rotten thing to do. But if the woman initiated the acts, she couldn’t be complaining.”

  “Regardless, there were grounds for punishment.”

  “Why?”

  “Daisy was seventeen at the time.”

  Jack whistled through his teeth. “That makes it worse all right, but what could you do if all you had was locker room talk and what you imagined you saw? It may have been no more than a cop boasting about something that never happened.”

  Ignoring his suggestion, Pat continued. “I first met Daisy during a raid on a bar selling alcohol to underage youths. We had no grounds to hold her, but she was outside the station when I got off shift. She was still high on booze. I asked if she needed help to get home and we struck up a conversation. She admitted she once solicited an officer, but the officer declined on the basis he would get in trouble. It appears this time she found an officer who consented.”

  “Why would she be interested in O’Brien at her age?”

  “Some girls are flattered if a man in power pays them attention, especially those lacking a strong father figure. Others are intimidated into cooperating. For whatever reason, the fact remains if she was seventeen at the time as she claimed, O’Brien could be charged with unlawful sex with a minor.”

  She noted his look of surprise. “Yes, regardless of whether the sex was initiated by the girl or consensual.”

  “What action was taken against O’Brien?”

  “When I repeated Daisy’s story to Cranston, he said the matter was not worth pursuing and described the allegation as frivolous. He discredited the girl’s credibility by saying she was involved in prostitution and drugs. I argued that Daisy was alleged to have had sexual contact with an officer who took advantage of her age and vulnerability. As O’Brien’s supervising officer, he owed her at least the same patience, concern, and investigative attention afforded other victims.”

  “How did he respond?”

  “He argued that the reputation of the police is often called into question over unfounded allegations of misconduct. Those cases result in countless wasted hours of investigation by the internal affairs department without evidence to suggest such complaints are credible.”

  “What was the outcome of your conversation?”

  Her voice was bitter. “Cranston’s only interest was in brushing the matter under the table. He ordered me to stop wasting my time and his, and focus on my job.”

  Jack attempted to console her. “He sounds like a first-class jerk, but that’s water under the bridge as far as you’re concerned. Hopefully, he’ll eventually trip himself up, but there’s nothing you can do.”

  The hostess called Jack’s name. As they moved to their table, Pat couldn’t help wondering.

  Does my former boss consider the matter water under the bridge as Jack suggests?

  Or does Cranston see me as a lingering threat to his career?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Wednesday evening, Warren waited until it was dark to tell Barbara where he was going.

  “Be careful, dear.” She pulled a jacket from the closet. “Take this. The ocean air gets cool at night.”

  “Don’t you think I can handle a few rowdy teenagers?”

  “You’re not as quick on your feet as you used to be. If they’re drinking and using drugs, you don’t know how they might react to you breaking up their party.”

  “I have no intention of disturbing whatever it is they’re doing. I only want to speak with Dylan. Make sure he’s all right and encourage him to go home.”

  “Whatever you think. I trust you to do what’s best.”

  “I can’t accomplish what’s best for that kid right now.”

  “You mean getting his father back?”

  Warren nodded. “I’ll try to at least get him sorted onto the right track. As you know, the teen years are vulnerable times for kids.”

  “How well I remember. On more than one occasion, Maddy threatened to veer off in the wrong direction with her rebellious ways. I’ve always been grateful we made our way through the quagmire with no serious mishaps.”

  “You and me both.”

  He put on the jacket and
grabbed a flashlight.

  “Let me see what I can do for young Dylan.”

  • • •

  There were a dozen cars lining the dirt road leading to the place on the beach Jon described. Warren parked behind the last car, hopeful that Dylan wouldn’t be difficult to find.

  He spotted a group of young people sitting around a bonfire, their hooded figures casting eerie shadows on the sand. Sparks from the fire illuminated the inky sky.

  Music blared from a nearby boom box. One boy strummed a guitar as several girls swayed to the rhythm of the music. Pungent odors of marijuana and seaweed drifted through the air.

  Warren chuckled over a girl wearing shorts and a crop top, showing off her well-toned midriff at the expense of being warm.

  One boy stood at the back, apart from the group. Two older boys spotted Warren as he walked toward the solitary figure.

  “Hey, Gramps,” they hollered. “What are you doing here? Come to get high?”

  They burst out laughing and several others turned to stare.

  “Go about your business,” Warren said gruffly. “I’ve come to speak with Dylan.”

  The boy’s head jerked up at mention of his name. He ran down the beach.

  Warren sprinted after him, sand quickly filling his shoes. He caught up and grabbed Dylan’s arm.

  Still quick on my feet, he thought, pleased with himself.

  The boy pulled away. “Get off me.”

  “I’m not here to hurt you. I only want to talk.”

  Dylan took a closer look. “You’re Jon’s grandfather, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right.”

  He glanced over Warren’s shoulder. “Is Jon with you?”

  “I came alone, but he suggested where I might find you.”

  Dylan kicked the sand. “I suppose my mom sent you.”

  “What would you expect when you didn’t go home last night? She’s worried sick.”

  The boy lowered his head. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have done that, but I needed space. Time to sort things out without her hovering over me.”

  “Missing your dad, are you?”

  The teen picked up a stone and skipped it across the water. “He hasn’t called for a while. I’d like to hear what he’s been doing.”