Sinister Justice

by Steve Pickens

  “Where did you get it?”

  “Oh, they’re easy enough to get if you’re in law enforcement,” she said. “Getting the thing set up correctly is quite another story. Adam’s brilliant when it comes to a lot of things, but computers and electronics are my forte.”

  After a rustling sound from the office, Dorval appeared at the doorway, holding a bulky folder in his hand. He paused, looking right and left before stepping out into the hallway.

  Sharon would later recall what happened next as one of her fondest memories. There was a muffled pffffft and a flash of blue as the dye-pack she’d slipped into file folder detonated.

  Nelson Dorval let out a scream of rage as curious workers began flooding out of offices and cubicles to see what had happened.

  “God damn it! What the hell!” Dorval screamed.

  “I think I’ll go check out the Blackburn house again,” Sharon said, leaving Culpepper clutching his sides as he tried unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Jake took the stairs up to Sam’s office. Sam was sitting at his drafting board, making a few marks. He looked up and smiled at Jake, but did not rise from the table as Jake embraced him from behind. “How was lunch with your old crewmates?”

  “Good. Always nice to catch up with them after our shared trauma from last year. I’m just about to knock off here,” he said, hugging Jake back. “How do you feel about a cocktail at the Bitter End and dinner?”

  “Sounds wonderful.” He told Sam about the panic his former coworkers experienced when discovering an abandoned vehicle on the car deck of the Elwha a few months earlier.

  “I suspect the ghost of Susan Crane will hang about for a while,” said Sam, setting his drafting tools back in their places, snapping off the light on the board.

  “Do you ever dream about it?”

  Sam sighed. “That night, sometimes. Being tied up, not knowing if you were going to show up. It was bad for a couple of months, but they faded away.”

  “You never told me any of this.”

  Sam shrugged. “You were usually in Friday Harbor for work, and I couldn’t tell you. I never had the dreams when you were home. Go figure.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I wish you had told me.”

  “There was nothing you could do. I didn’t want to upset you,” he said, washing out his cup in the kitchenette sink. “I felt it was something I had to figure out myself. The dreams went away eventually.”

  Jake walked up behind Sam and embraced him tightly again. Sam grunted, gasping for breath. “Little looser, Jake.”

  “Sorry. I just don’t want to lose you. Last year came way too close for my liking.”

  “You’ll be pleased to know,” said Sam, replacing his cup on the dish drainer, “that it was a little too close for my liking as well. A mistake I don’t plan to repeat.”

  “Well, good. I wasn’t planning on making any overtures in that direction myself,” said Jake. “Did you know Nora has been planning to move back to Seattle?”

  “Not exactly. I guess she and Mom had another knockdown, drag-out fight on the phone the other day. She ended the conversation saying she was going to put the house up for sale and get out of Arrow Bay.”

  “And I bet I know what Evelyn’s reply was.”

  “Well, Ma has never been one to mince words. Although she was unusually calm and collected for this reply—at least to hear her tell it anyway. You know my mother when she gets upset.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “She told Nora she was a selfish, self-centered brat who had better get over her hang ups before she ended up alienating her entire family.”

  “You sound as though you agree with her.” said Jake, rising. He stepped behind Sam and began massaging his shoulders.

  “I tell myself I should rush to the defense of my sister, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I’m so angry at her for her complete dismissal of our relationship that I can’t even begin to articulate it.”

  “Then don’t, Sam. Let it go. Let her go if you have to. Nora’s not stupid. She’ll come to her senses sooner or later.”

  “That feels good,” said Sam, all but purring. “I hope she does. I can’t wait for her to grow up though. Aside from having my life firmly established at the age of thirty-six, I don’t wish to rehash my childhood again and again with her. Mom and I have moved on, why can’t she?”

  “If I knew that, Sam, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” said Jake.

  * * *

  Later that evening, Sam and Jake hopped into Sam’s Outback and drove down to the Bitter End. Caleb made Jake his usual Jameson and Pepsi and mixed Sam a Sea Shine, a combo of vodka, pineapple juice and green apple schnapps topped with peach schnapps. Sam sipped it while brooding over the chessboard, where Caleb had stymied him again.

  “Sam seems a little down,” said Caleb, bringing Jake his second drink.

  “Trying to get me drunk so you can have your way with me?”

  “Oh stow it, Finnigan. You know I’m too much man for you.”

  “I keep telling you I won’t know until…”

  “Yeah, yeah, keep hoping. That boat’ll never sail, no matter how nice a guy I think you are,” said Caleb with a sly grin. “Seriously though, what’s up? I haven’t seen Sam so glum since I took his last bishop two months back.”

  Jake turned to study his husband. Sam was looking intently at the chessboard, sipping his drink. He raised his hand to move his queen, hesitated, and then returned his hand to his lap. Jake turned back to Caleb and said, “No one can quite disappoint you like family.”

  “Ah,” said Caleb knowingly. “Nora.”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “Wasn’t too hard. Sam and his mother are very close, it obviously isn’t anyone in your family as you all seem to get along well with Jason and, of course, Ms. O’Conner and the Reverend Crawford were in here today having a similar discussion.”

  “Bartenders, the unsung detectives of the working world,” said Jake, raising his glass.

  “You left out psychologists, best friends, confessors, and sometimes boy toys,” said Caleb, slipping back behind the counter to refill Sam’s glass.

  Sam looked up at Caleb. “You’re doing this to drive me crazy, aren’t you?”

  “Who, me?” asked Caleb innocently. “What can I get you for dinner?”

  “Steak, medium rare, baked potato, salad with honey mustard,” said Sam.

  “You want the steak in the Cajun marinade, the Hawaiian marinade, or pounded flat and soaked in our house marinade?”

  “What’s in the house?”

  “Well, lots of stuff, but there’s a base of Jack Daniels, onion, garlic, pepper and several other mystery ingredients I can’t tell you or the cook will kill me,” replied Caleb.

  “I’ll try the house,” replied Sam. Grinning triumphantly, he moved his rook and said to Caleb, “Take them apples.”

  “How about you, Jake?” said Caleb, not taking his eyes off the board.

  “Make it two, sir.”

  “Eight or sixteen ounce?”

  Sam looked at Jake and grinned. “One eight, one sixteen.”

  “Gotcha,” said Caleb distractedly, still not taking his eyes from the board. He continued to stare at it until he finally had to walk over to the pass window and put up the order.

  “What did you do?”

  “He wants to play a stalemate game, a stalemate game is what he is going to get,” said Sam with a grin.

  The bar began to fill slowly as the hour wore toward dinner. Caleb became busier and couldn’t chat as often, but considered the chessboard every free moment he had. Jake and Sam had consumed dinner and were contemplating dessert when Sharon Trumbo stepped in the front door. She spotted Jake and Sam and made a beeline for their table, the heels of her shoes clicking loudly on the floorboards. She pulled off her long pale blue raincoat and adjusted the tailored gray suit beneath.

  “Can I talk to you for a moment?�
�

  “That all depends. Are you here to arrest us?”

  “Mr. Finnigan, you never have been a suspect.”

  “Please sit down, Detective Trumbo,” Sam said, offering her the empty chair.

  “Thank you,” she said, brushing back a lock of black hair. “I’m not sure what to do. I’m upset, but starving and I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete lunatic.”

  “Start slowly,” suggested Sam. “And have some deep-fried olives.”

  “Deep fried what?”

  “Deep fried olives. They’re stuffed with pepper jack cheese, breaded lightly and deep-fried. Deliciously evil, artery-clogging appetizers. You’re hungry and a bit flustered, and it’ll give you something to do with your hands, which usually helps me calm down,” said Sam. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure if it’s the hands thing or the fact that I like food—”

  “Sam,” said Jake cutting him off. “Caleb, can we get an order of deep-fried olives for Detective Trumbo please?”

  “Huh?” asked Caleb, looking up from the chessboard. “Oh! Right. Anything to drink, Sharon?”

  “I’d love a double vanilla vodka on the rocks, but I’m on duty.”

  “Cherry Pepsi it is,” said Caleb.

  “Diet, hon, if you have it.”

  “Diet it is.”

  “I have to tell you right now this is very, very awkward coming to talk to you,” said Sharon. “But some of my coworkers are not the brightest lights in the harbor. None of the others spotted the Grimm’s Fairytales element. Especially not Dorval.”

  “I thought it was just you and Haggerty working this case,” said Jake slowly.

  “It is, officially. Unofficially, Nelson Dorval will do anything he can to bring Adam down. He’s been subverting Adam’s work on this from the beginning. I found out last night he’s been breaking into our office and going through our reports. Well, I should say mine as Adam keeps most of his stuff at home.”

  “How’d you find that out?” asked Sam.

  “I’ve suspected it for a while. To prove a point, today I put an explosive dye pack in with my paper work. Anyone taking it outside of our office would set it off.”

  “Oh, my,” said Sam with an approving grin.

  “Did he fall for it?”

  “He’s going to be called ‘Papa Smurf’ for a while.”

  “You didn’t get in trouble, did you?”

  “Well, not officially, no. I’ll receive a letter in my file for carelessly leaving the dye pack in my files. It was worth it.”

  The olives arrived along with her diet cherry Pepsi. She took an olive, dipped it in ranch dressing and took a bite. “These are as good as I remember,” she said.

  “I’m still not understanding why you’re here,” said Jake.

  “Adam didn’t come in today. He called in sick, but the message sounded strange. Not like him. Almost like he’d been drugged. When he didn’t call me later, I started to get really concerned.”

  “He calls you regularly?” asked Jake.

  “When we’re on a case, always. And, well, even if we’re not,” she said, shaking her head. “I think Adam’s kind of lonely sometimes. He doesn’t seem to have many friends.”

  “Can’t imagine why not,” said Jake under his breath.

  Sam gave him a kick under the table. “So did you go over to his house to check on him?”

  “I did. I have a key. When he goes on vacation, I water his plants and feed the fish.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Nothing. Adam’s meticulously neat. Almost obsessive. His house was neat as a pin, nothing out of place, or so I thought,” she said, finishing another olive. “When I started to look around, something was out of place. You know how something can bother you and you won’t know what it is, but it’s wrong?”

  “I do,” said Jake. He’d had that feeling for days.

  “It was easy to miss. If I hadn’t looked at everything carefully, I would have missed it.”

  “What was it?” asked Sam.

  “A coffee cup. Right by his computer, right by where anyone sitting at their computer would leave it if they were on the Internet drinking a cup of coffee. That’s why I almost overlooked it. Adam would never leave a cup of coffee sitting there like that. Ever. He’d take it into the kitchen, rinse it out, and put it in the dishwasher.”

  “Even if, say, he got a hot lead and wanted to check it out? He wouldn’t just throw on his coat and run out the door?” asked Jake.

  “Not a chance. If he had gotten a lead or tip or anything at all, he would have called me, either before he left or on his way.”

  “So what was in the cup?” asked Jake.

  “Why do you think there was anything in the cup?” Sharon asked suspiciously.

  “You said he sounded drugged. A leads to B.”

  “Half a cup of coffee. I tested it. It was full of Flunitrazepam.”

  “What?” asked Sam.

  “Rohypnol,” replied Jake. “Lady Macdougal poisoned Lady Ecksworth with it in The Teacup Assassin. You think he’s been abducted.”

  “I’m positive.”

  Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He looked at Jake and then said, “Okay, so if that’s the case, why are you here? Shouldn’t you report this to Sanderson or the FBI or someone?”

  Sharon Trumbo sighed heavily. “It’s not that I don’t think I should. I know I should. I’m afraid of what will happen if I do. I’ve got to wait twenty-four hours before I can do anything, which will be tomorrow at nine o’clock. If…if you can think of anything that might lead to him, will you call me?” she asked, digging out her card and handing one each to Sam and Jake. “And I mean anything.”

  “I understand,” said Jake.

  “You think the killer has him, don’t you?” Sam said.

  “I am almost positive. I think Adam was getting close, and the killer decided to take him out. I just hope it isn’t permanently.”

  “I don’t think so. Haggerty wasn’t an ‘enemy of Arrow Bay’ as the letter writer put it,” said Jake. “He is Arrow Bay’s protector, in fact. Far from an enemy,” said Jake. “Oh.”

  “Something wrong, Jake?” asked Sam

  “If you do think of something,” said Sharon, rising and putting her coat on, “don’t be a hero. Call me at once. This guy is dangerous.”

  “That would violate Rule Four,” said Sam.

  “Rule four?”

  “Spievens’ Rules. If you know who the killer is, never go after them yourself. Always call the police. It’s rule four,” said Jake.

  “Well, remember I am the one with the really big gun and am trained to use it. I don’t want to see either of you getting hurt, okay?” she said. “How much for the olives, Caleb?”

  “On the house.”

  “Thanks, Caleb. And thank you, Mr. Finnigan.”

  “You better make it Jake.”

  She gave him a hopeful grin, turned, and then walked out the door of the Bitter End into the cold night.

  “How did she know we were here?” asked Sam.

  “Well, we’re fairly predictable,” said Jake. “You caught the slip about the olives.”

  “I did,” said Sam. “As well as the fact that she addressed Caleb by name. Unless you’re seeing Sharon Trumbo in some other place regularly, Caleb?” said Sam to Caleb, who had resumed staring at the chessboard.

  “What? No, no. Sharon’s a regular. Lunch, mainly, but she and a few of her friends sing karaoke on Saturday nights.”

  “Well, that explains why we never see her,” said Sam. “We hate karaoke.”

  “Sam, I need to talk to you,” said Jake, fishing out money to pay the bill.

  “I thought you might.”

  They settled their tab and bid Caleb good night. Jake and Sam walked into the blustery, cold, but rain-free November evening. Jake took a deep breath, but refrained from speaking until they got into the Subaru.

  “Spill it. Something hit you while we were there. W
hat was it?”

  “The note sent to Reverend Crawford. I told you that one was out of place. Haggerty thought so too, which is why he considered it might be a fake. So did I for a bit.”

  “Right, but I saw the thing. It was identical to the rest of them.”

  “Exactly. I know you well enough to know you’re not going to make rash judgments about anything. If you say it was an identical note to the others, I believe you completely.”

  “Well, thanks,” said Sam, turning up Dawson Road.

  “I kept focusing on the note itself. What it said, how it was written, what was written, and then while sitting there tonight I realized I’d been concentrating on the wrong thing all along. Sam, what came with that note?”

  “Flowers.”

  “You didn’t tell me it had arrived with flowers.”

  “Oh, yes, I did. But you were so hopped up on cold meds I had to pick you up at the police station.”

  “Oh no,” moaned Jake. “Damn, damn, damn!”

  “Jake…”

  “What kind of flowers?”

  “There were sprigs of Western red cedar mixed in with stargazer lilies—big ones and little ones.”

  Jake felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. For a moment, he felt as if he might be physically ill. He leaned against the seat and let the world sway until he was completely able to gather his thoughts again. He looked desperately at Sam, who was still not sure what was wrong.

  “You know who did it, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I do. And I think you do too, if you think about it.”

  “I don’t get it,” Sam said. “What’s the big deal about the flowers?”

  “Think about what you said, Sam, about the flowers.”

  “Stargazer lilies? You can get them anywhere at this time of year, florists have them, you can grow them in the greenhouse—” He stopped.

  “And what else did you say about them? The stargazers?”

  Sam leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes. “Not small stargazer lilies. Orchids.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  “‘Just room for some orchids and lilies,’” said Jake, recalling a conversation in Wilde Park weeks back. “How are we going to handle this, Sam?” asked Jake.