The Lovely Wicked Rain: An Oregon Coast Mystery (Garrison Gage Series)

by Scott William Carter

"Didn't need to," Quinn said. "The girl working the counter at the library remembered Zoe checking out the book. They even had a conversation about it. You remember the conversation, Zoe?"

  "Don't answer," Gage said. And then, to Quinn, he said, "If you guys have any more questions, we'll schedule a time and have a lawyer present."

  Trenton chuckled. "Looks like somebody's got something to hide."

  "I have nothing to hide," Zoe said. "I've told you—"

  Gage held up his hand, silencing Zoe. He rose, and Zoe, somewhat reluctantly, rose with him. Quinn crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. The two detectives tried to melt Gage with their eyes.

  "She's not a suspect," Quinn said.

  "You're certainly acting like it," Gage said.

  "Let's just call her a person of interest."

  "We done?"

  "Gage, we all want the same thing here. I know Zoe couldn't have done it because the security cameras at the library verify what she's told me. I just think she knows more about these two boys than she's letting on, that's all."

  "You already have the security footage?" Gage said. "That was fast."

  "The college is being very cooperative," Quinn said.

  "What about the security cameras at the dorm?"

  "Oh!" Trenton chirped in. "Now look who's asking questions again!"

  "Didn't have them," Quinn said, ignoring his detective. "Apparently the student association had privacy concerns about ten years ago, so they were removed. One last question. Zoe, you can refuse to answer if that's your prerogative, but I have to ask. Is there anything you know, anything you're not telling us, that would explain why Jeremiah Cooper might shoot Connor Fleicher?"

  "You don't—" Gage began.

  "No," Zoe said.

  "You're sure?" Quinn said.

  "He's not a killer," Zoe said.

  "Not the jealous type?"

  "What would he have to be jealous of? They were best friends!"

  "All right, we're done," Gage said, taking her arm and leading her to the door. "Any more questions, it's with an attorney present."

  Zoe looked like she wanted to get a few words in, but Gage hustled her out the door. The chief and the detectives followed him, past the carpeted cubicles and the chirping phones and the faux oak end tables weighed down by stacks of two-year-old magazines. When Gage was at the front reception area, Quinn called out to him.

  "One last thing," he said.

  Zoe turned, but Gage prodded her through the front door. Only when there was a wall of glass between her and Quinn did Gage turn and raise his eyebrows in response. Quinn, without his detectives now, leaned with his elbows on the front counter, looking all the world like a small-town sheriff watching a couple of hooligans walk out of his favorite saloon.

  "I have a minor request," Quinn said.

  And that is?"

  "Promise me you'll stay out of this one."

  "Promise you?"

  "Just tell me you won't go snooping around where you don't belong."

  "And what fun would that be?"

  Quinn sighed. "Somehow I knew you'd say that."

  * * *

  When Gage tried to talk to Zoe at the house, she grumbled that she needed to be alone. As she shuffled off to her room, he told her he was going to get some groceries and asked if she wanted anything. All he got in response was a slammed door, then, a few seconds later, her stereo cranked up so loud it made the Monet print on the wall vibrate. He waited a few minutes, debating whether he should really leave her alone, but decided they'd only fight if he stayed. He didn't know exactly why she was mad at him, but he guessed it had something to do with the way he hustled her out of the police station without giving her a chance to ask if she could see Jeremiah.

  His own mental state wasn't much better. It was true that his cupboards were getting pretty bare, but that could wait. The sun, a pale dot, was like a thumbnail pushing through a hole in a gray wool sock. Books and Oddities didn't open until ten, still a half hour away, but when Gage turned the van into the gravel parking lot of Horseshoe Mall, he saw that the red neon Open sign in the front window was already aglow. Gunderson's, the antique store, was also open, but the other dozen shops in the U-shaped outdoor mall were still dark.

  There were a handful of cars in the parking lot, but one caught his eye—a Honda Civic so caked with grime, it looked tan instead of white.

  His heart did a little skip. He walked across the creaky covered boardwalk in front of the stores, feeling the morning breeze blow damp and cool on his cane hand. When he entered the shop, the bell over the door ringing, he didn't find anyone at the counter. The musty smell of old books greeted Gage like an old friend. Two mugs of coffee were perched on the glass countertop. He heard the murmur of voices somewhere in the stacks, tightly packed rows of pine bookshelves so tall they nearly touched the buzzing fluorescent lights. Gage leaned his cane against the counter.

  "Alex?" he said.

  "You bring me donuts this morning?" Alex called over the stacks.

  "Sorry," Gage said.

  Alex emerged from the stacks with a yellow trade paperback in hand, Karen a few steps behind. She smiled at him, her eyes possessing a glimmer they hadn't had the previous day, a spark of life that had been missing. Her tight black turtleneck shirt and hip-hugging jeans revealed an athletic figure that had been hidden by yesterday's baggy sweatshirt. This, of course, made the perpetually frumpy Alex seem even frumpier by comparison.

  "I can't believe you didn't bring donuts," Alex said.

  "I'm trying to watch my weight."

  "Liar."

  "Hey! I've gained at least ten pounds lately. Too many cheeseburgers."

  "My friend," Alex said, "I doubt you've gained ten pounds since your twenties. Remember, I was there when you were in your twenties. You may have a bit more gray hair, but otherwise you look pretty much like you did when you walked into the FBI academy."

  This got Karen to raise her eyebrows. "I didn't know Garrison was one of your students."

  "In fact," Gage said, "he was the one who kicked me out."

  "I did no such thing," Alex said. He took a sip from his coffee, then wrinkled his nose. "No donuts and cold coffee. If it wasn't for this lovely lady stopping by to chat, I'd probably give up and call it a day."

  "If I had realized how much donuts would mean to you today, I would have brought you three dozen. Maybe even four."

  "Remember that next time. Donuts always mean a lot to me. And anyway, to get back to the topic at hand, I distinctly remember you leaving Virginia of your own free will. Nobody kicked you out."

  "But you did ask me to leave."

  "I asked you to think about whether you were the type of person who could really operate effectively inside a highly structured organization like the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Your … approach to authority seemed to be at odds with what was required of a special agent."

  "That's a nice way of saying I don't take orders well."

  "That's a nice way of saying you work very well independently. And furthermore," Alex continued, raising his finger to stop Gage from interjecting, "this particular personality trait of yours was the only reason I asked you to consider your options. I happen to also recall that you were at the top of your class in just about everything that really mattered. Marksmanship. Defensive tactics."

  "Well …"

  "When you actually took a test, you usually aced it. Even in something like communication studies. I found that one a little ironic." Alex winked at Karen. "The problem with Gage was—and still is, really—if he couldn't see the reason for doing something, he just didn't do it. Always had to walk to the beat of his own drummer. Doesn't always work in the FBI, does it, Karen?"

  "You leave her out of this," Gage said. "She's just an innocent bystander to all of your hectoring."

  "Sometimes you've got to be a team player," Alex said.

  "I am a team. A team of one."

  "Haven't you ever heard there's no i in the
word team?"

  "That's true. But there is an i in the word bullshit. I guess I just found out back in Quantico that I don't have a high tolerance for the stuff."

  "I know exactly what you mean," Karen said.

  They both looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but she just shrugged. Alex took another sip from his coffee and dabbed at his mustache with a napkin while studiously watching both Gage and Karen with a mischievous gleam in his eye. Gage nodded toward Karen.

  "Surprised you're still here," he said. "I figured you'd be on your way by now."

  "Oh, I don't know," she said. "Thought I might stick around a bit. See how things turn out."

  "Things?"

  "You know. With the boys."

  "Ah."

  "Maybe even, you know, offer a helping hand—if you need one."

  Her eyes, usually so steady and penetrating, wavered. He didn't know what was going on with her, what had prompted her trip or this sudden desire to dive into a local murder case, but he could see that she was struggling to maintain that well-practiced cool demeanor of hers.

  "Well," he said, "the police have made it pretty clear I'm to stay well clear of this particular investigation. Besides, I've got Zoe to focus on right now."

  "How's she doing?" Alex asked.

  "She's taking this one pretty hard."

  "She's a tough kid," Alex said. "She's been through a lot and always comes out stronger. Be no different this time."

  "I hope so."

  "Tell her she's welcome to hang out with me. Even stay over with us at the inn if she wants company. I think Eve is making another batch of baklava as we speak." He grinned at Karen. "No one makes baklava like Eve."

  "I'll tell her," Gage said, "but I'm hoping my company is enough for her."

  Alex removed his glasses and cleaned them with his sleeve. "What kind of company are you going to be when you're not around?"

  "What?"

  "How are you going to be there when you're out investigating Connor Fleicher's murder?"

  Gage shook his head. "Didn't you just hear what I said? I said—"

  "I know what you said. I also know what you're going to do. Didn't you stop by here to bounce ideas off me on who to talk to first? It certainly wasn't to bring me donuts, we've already established that."

  Karen laughed a little. "Note to self. Always bring Alex donuts."

  "I just stopped by to say hello," Gage said.

  "Right. Well, hello."

  "What's gotten into you, anyway? You seem even more surly than normal. You run out of bran flakes at the house?"

  "Don't change the subject. I'm much older than you and have the right to be cantankerous if the whim strikes me. Let's stay focused on your new case."

  "It's not a case."

  "Even without the magical properties of donuts in my system, I'm happy to help you brainstorm."

  "I told you—"

  "And your new partner is free to chime in as well."

  "My new …" Gage began, then looked at Karen to see if this comment surprised her as much as it had surprised him, and he could see that it did. "First of all, even if I was working this case—"

  "So at least we agree that it's a case."

  "Even if I was, you know that I've never had a partner in my life. It's not my style."

  "I want you to know I had nothing to do with this," Karen said.

  "Oh, don't worry," Gage said, "I know my friend here well enough to know that he needs no encouragement to meddle."

  "Meddle is such a negative word," Alex said. "Let's call it offering necessary if unwelcome advice and counsel—and for free, no less!"

  "Whatever you want to call it," Gage said, "you need to stop. I'm not getting involved with this one."

  "Right."

  "I'm not!"

  Alex took a sip of his coffee and wrinkled his nose. "Still cold. All right, so tell me this. Where are you going after this?"

  "Haven't thought about it."

  "The college?"

  "Why would I go there?"

  "To ask people questions."

  Gage sighed. "You really are relentless, aren't you?"

  "One of my best qualities," Alex said. "That, and I happen to be the world's greatest lover—though this fact is, sadly, unknown to most women. So you really aren't going to investigate Connor Fleicher's murder?"

  Gage glanced at the stack of hardcover books on the counter, then placed his left hand on the top book and his right hand over his heart. "I swear on this slightly wrinkled Clive Cussler that no, I won't be investigating the boy's murder."

  "Fine," Alex said with a sniff, then rose abruptly from his chair. "Then since you have nothing better to do, you can watch the store for me. Come on, Karen, I may not be as handsome as our boy Gage here, but at least I'm not too stupid to pass up spending an afternoon with a pretty lady. We can take my van."

  "Wait a minute," Gage said. "Where are you going?"

  "What if I told you I was taking this case?"

  Gage stared, dumbfounded.

  "It's not so crazy a thought, is it?" Alex said. "Before I taught at the academy, I was a special agent for over twenty years."

  "Um …"

  "I'm going to call my new outfit Books and Oddities and Private Investigation. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

  "You're serious?"

  "No, but it still has a nice ring to it. Actually, I told this little lady here that I would show her the sights in town if you wouldn't do it. And since she won't be busy with you, then she's obviously free to be a tourist the rest of the day." He tipped his head at Karen. "Ready, my dear?"

  "Now hold on a minute," Gage said.

  "Just remember not to take in any old encyclopedias," Alex said.

  "I never said I wouldn't show her the sights."

  They both looked at him, Alex's expression by far the more smug of the two. It was the sort of smugness that Gage found endearing when it wasn't directed at him. Karen just seemed befuddled by all their banter.

  "Great," Alex said. "Make sure you buy her a T-shirt."

  Chapter 9

  They were in the van, headed south on Highway 101 under overcast skies, when Karen finally broached the subject that had been on Gage's mind, off and on, since the previous morning.

  "About that kiss," she said.

  She stared out the front windshield, hands resting lightly on her jeans. She was tidy and compact, and even dressed casually in jeans and a black turtleneck, there was an air of seriousness about her, of focused energy and relentless purpose. With her back straight and chin level, inside the rattling jalopy of his van, she made him think of a raven in a junkyard.

  "About that kiss," Gage echoed.

  "I know it came out of nowhere."

  "Yes."

  "I want to pretend it didn't happen."

  "Okay."

  She glanced at him. He heard it in his voice, too, and it surprised him—the slight twinge of disappointment. Now it was his turn to stare at the glistening asphalt winding along the coast ahead of them. He gripped the steering wheel, trying to remember how far it was to Devil's Punch Bowl. That's where he'd suggested he'd take her first—a strange-shaped rock configuration that caused the ocean breakers to splash high into the air with tremendous force and a popular tourist attraction located outside Newport. The idea was to start there and work their way north.

  The traffic was pleasantly light for a Friday. Though it wasn't raining, the moisture in the air built up on the window until he was forced to turn on the windshield wipers. He was glad for the distraction. It gave him something to do other than look at her.

  "So you're okay with that?" she said.

  "Okay with what?"

  "You know. Pretending it didn't … you know …"

  "Oh, sure," he said.

  "I just didn't want you to think I was, you know, after something. Even if you were interested … I, well, I'm not in a place where I can do that, you know. Be important to somebody."

&n
bsp; Gage nodded. He didn't know where this was coming from, and the tone of her voice didn't lead him to believe she wanted him to ask, but he knew all about letting people down. He'd been doing it his whole life. Janet, Angela, Carmen, and Zoe. And now Alex, too, it seemed, if Gage was interpreting the surliness back at the store correctly. What was all that about?

  Well, he knew what it was about, if he was honest with himself. A year ago, standing in front of Angela's grave, he'd sworn an oath to stop hiding, to wake from his half-decade of mental stupor and get back to doing what he was good at: private investigation. Helping people. Solving problems. Making a difference in his own way, when and where he could. And yet other than a few minor cases, ones that could hardly even be called cases, what had he done but go on pretending that nothing had changed?

  Yes, maybe there was no paying client here, but that was just a technicality, wasn't it? There'd been several dozen inquiries over the past year about whether he was for hire again and he'd found a technicality to disqualify most of them—legitimately, of course. That case wasn't in his area of specialty. This case was a little too shady on the legal side. Only now, thinking about them in the context of letting people down, did Gage fully realize what he had done. Officially, he may have been working again, but unofficially he'd been doing everything in his power to avoid making any real difference in people's lives. It was enough to make him want to break his cane in half.

  "Did I say something wrong?" Karen asked.

  "Hmm?" Gage said.

  "You seem … disturbed. Look, if you want to talk about what happened—"

  "It's not about that. I've just been realizing that I'm really not all that interested in doing a bunch of sightseeing today."

  "You're not?"

  Gage shook his head slowly, unsure what her reaction would be, and was surprised when she sighed with relief.

  "Thank God," she said.

  "You're not disappointed?"

  "No way. Does this mean …?"

  "It means maybe we should get back to doing what we should have been doing in the first place."

  "Looking into Connor Fleicher's death?"

  "Yep. If you want to join me, it's the least I can do for jerking you around today."

  She smiled a big, radiant smile. "Are you kidding? You're right on schedule. Alex told me you'd come around before we'd even been in the car ten minutes. He said if we ever stepped foot in a souvenir shop, he'd give me a hundred dollars."