Sydney Valentine Mystery Series: Books 1-3 (Boxed Set) (A Sydney Valentine Mystery)

by Danielle Lenee Davis

Brad grinned. “Do I know you, or what?” He folded a newspaper and set it on the table edge next to his plate.

  “You know me.” I slid my plate and glasses across the table to his side. I sat next to him and scooted in. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled again. “I saw the news last night about Teena Travis.”

  I had a mouth full of pancakes and blueberries so I just nodded and mumbled. “Uh-huh.”

  “You’re on the case?” He added salt to his eggs. “There’s an article in the paper, but I haven’t had a chance to read it.”

  I swallowed and reached for my milk. “I’m on the case.”

  “That’s what I figured. I know you told me we couldn’t get together, but I stopped by your apartment last night to surprise you with a pizza, but you weren’t there. I wasn’t going to stay. I guess you weren’t home from work yet anyway.” He watched me eat.

  Now was the time to tell him about the break-in, but I didn’t.

  I stabbed a chunk of pancakes and swiped compote with it. I resisted the urge to close my eyes and settled for a deep sigh instead. “Do you watch the show?”

  He flushed then smiled. “Every now and then.”

  I watched him, narrowing my eyes. “You’re a fan, aren’t you?”

  He glanced at me then looked away, suddenly interested in buttering his wheat toast. “I wouldn’t say I’m a fan exactly. I’ve seen the show. Yes, I enjoyed parts of it.”

  “Which parts?” I asked.

  “I liked the audition shows early in the season. Some of those people are nuts if they think they can sing. It makes me feel good about myself. I liked it when Teena told them her version of the truth, which was usually the same as mine.”

  “Believe it or not, you’re not the first person I’ve heard say something like that.”

  “Do you have any suspects? I can imagine that the list is long.”

  “Actually, we do have some, but nothing solid yet.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’d think you’d have more than some suspects.” He frowned. “You’re kidding, right? The woman pissed off every person that walked across their stage. I’m serious. Everyone.”

  “So I heard. We don’t have the show’s DVDs yet.” Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling hungry. I pushed my plate away.

  “What’s wrong?” Brad stared at the plate of pancakes drizzled with blueberry compote. “You usually dig right into those.”

  “I’ve lost my appetite.” I sighed. “Teena’s personal assistant gave me and Bernie boxes of Teena’s fan mail yesterday. Mac and I were reading some of it last night.”

  “Okay.” He studied my face, and his brow furrowed.

  “I had to leave.” I looked around at the other diners. None were within hearing range. It must’ve been a slow morning at IHOP. “I got a call from Dispatch. There’d been another homicide. It was Teena’s personal assistant.”

  “Whoa. So, this does have something to do with the show. Why her, though?” He shoveled eggs into his mouth then bit into buttered toast. Apparently, he wasn’t bothered by the talk of murder. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re not the only one.” I watched him chew, and I sighed. “That’s not all. Someone broke into my apartment and stole the fan mail while I was out.” I didn’t tell him about Mac because I didn’t want to talk about it with him yet, and I knew how he would react to what I’d just said. I already had enough to deal with. I hoped he didn’t notice I said I was out, instead of we were out, meaning Mac and I.

  “What?” He laid the knife on his plate. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  Yep, I knew he’d freak. “What would you have done?”

  “I would’ve come to your apartment.”

  “And then what? Brad, I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.”

  “Maybe, but still. It would’ve been nice to know. You wouldn’t have been able to keep me away if I had known.”

  “See? That’s why I didn’t call. Theresa wanted to stay, but I told her to go home. I didn’t think there was any danger. Whoever it was had already taken what they wanted.” And Mac as a bonus.

  He shook his head. “How do you know? Maybe they didn’t.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” I tried a smile. “Nobody returned last night.”

  “How did the person get inside?” The muscle in his jaw pulsed, and the tips of his ears had turned red.

  “They broke a bedroom window and unlocked the latch.”

  “What if you’d been there sleeping?” He’d stopped eating and had pushed his plate away.

  I scanned the room for eavesdroppers, but everyone appeared to be focused on their food or companions. “I guess you don’t know me so well after all.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He was scowling.

  I scowled back. “You do know that I own weapons, don’t you? And I know how to use them too.”

  “How could I forget? You wear them like badges of honor.” He sighed. “I just don’t think you take these things seriously.”

  “What things? I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation, Brad. I’m serious about my job. I’m serious about protecting myself too.”

  “Okay. Let’s just enjoy the rest of our breakfast before you run off to start your day dealing with the degenerates of our society.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I peered at him. “The breakfast, not the degenerates.”

  “I’d feel better if you were out of that apartment. It’s bad luck. You were talking about looking for a house a little while ago. I’m renovating one not far from your apartment. You can stop by and see it if you want. I’d give you a good deal. I think it’s time you started looking for something.”

  “Me too.” I pulled my plate toward me and ate the rest of my pancakes in silence. They were no longer hot. I didn’t care.

  When we finished, Brad paid the bill, and we headed out to the parking lot toward our vehicles. I unlocked my door with the remote and stood next to my car.

  “Sydney, I know you can take care of yourself. I’m not implying that you can’t.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. My muscles were tight, and it felt good.

  “It sure sounded like that to me. I just don’t think you’re used to being with a woman who works in law enforcement.”

  He dropped his hands to his sides and let out a breath. “I have a right to be upset when you take chances.”

  “Who’s taking chances? I wasn’t even home when it happened!”

  “You stayed there alone afterward though, even when Theresa offered to stay.” His face had turned red.

  I sighed. “Look, I’ll talk to you later.” I climbed in my car. When I pulled out of the parking lot, I saw him standing near his truck with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Whatever.

  I arrived back at the station, ready to get to work on our two homicide cases and Mac’s abduction, especially since they were related and she was family. Bernie had brought his fan mail in, and I looked through it, hoping to get a clue as to what was so important. I received an email from our forensic team that they’d finished dealing with my apartment. They didn’t get anything else of value from it.

  I called the apartment manager to request that my window be repaired as soon as possible. He was used to receiving these types of calls from me. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they started billing me for damages. A few weeks ago, during another case, someone had set fire to the apartment next to mine and used pieces of tire rubber, hoping to kill me with fumes. The other apartment was empty, but both sustained damage.

  “Hey, Syd.” Bernie walked over and regarded the pile of mail on my desk. “I already went through that. I didn’t see anything that would make me think it needs to be looked at any further. I think we’re on the wrong track, at least with mine.”

  “I’m not so sure. There’s got to be a link if someone broke into my apartment and took the box, not to mention my sister.”

  “That’s true, but the m
ail I read didn’t seem suspicious. Except for what I’ve put aside, almost everybody who wrote seemed to love her.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I could’ve missed something.” He went back to his cubicle, and I heard him plop down into his chair.

  I stood up, looking over the cubicle wall at him. “Another pair of eyes won’t hurt.”

  “The mail they took from you would probably break the case”—he eyeballed me—“if we still had it.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault someone broke into my apartment. Speaking of which, I may be buying a house. Brad’s renovating a house in my neighborhood, and I’m going to take a look at it soon.” That is, if he was still speaking to me after our chat that morning.

  “Good for you. Khrystal and I may be in the market for something too.”

  “Great. Back to work. What’s the connection between the mail, Billi, and Teena that someone would kill for?” I went over and sat on the edge of Bernie’s desk. “Maybe something was placed in one of the boxes accidentally. Perhaps it had something to do with one of the contestants.”

  “We should include the contestants’ families in that inquiry as well. But why would they know about the box and you?” He sighed. “Too many possibilities. Parents can be vicious when their child’s dreams are destroyed. I might even venture to use the legal term ‘with prejudice.’”

  “Yeah, it was like court when a judge dismisses a case, and there’s no way for the plaintiff to appeal the verdict. You’re done. I watched last week’s episode at Mac’s last night.” I shook my head. “I don’t even remember the contestant’s name, but I could see a parent being angry enough to kill Teena after that. I couldn’t believe what she was saying to that girl.”

  “I haven’t seen that show yet, but I can imagine that the kid told Teena her parents encouraged the singing. Teena would’ve told her that her parents didn’t know what they were talking about and were clueless. Is that the way it went?”

  “Pretty much, but it wasn’t said as nicely as you just put it. It just seemed like she was being mean and nasty on purpose.”

  “I’m sure she was. How bad was the singing?”

  “Pretty bad. I could sing better.”

  “I doubt it.” He grinned. “Was it a Whitney Houston or Celine Dion song?”

  “Whitney. How did you know?”

  “I don’t know why, but their songs seem to be popular with the talentless. They’re just up there screaming and thinking they’re nailing it. That seemed to be a pet peeve of Teena’s. She was extra vicious when people did that.”

  “Yeah, well, they’re wrong about nailing it. The kid was awful, and I was glad Teena turned her microphone off. I felt sorry for her, though.”

  “Because she kept singing anyway?”

  “Yep. When Teena critiqued her, if you want to call it that, she insulted the girl and her parents. That wasn’t necessary. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. Turning off the microphone was enough, I’d think.”

  “Well, it’s about ratings. People eat that sort of thing up. They love it when Teena does that.”

  “Mac and Mike enjoyed Teena’s treatment of the contestant. They were smiling. I was a little surprised because Mac’s always been a bit of a bleeding heart. They justified it by saying that the kid deserved it, and it’s better to do it now rather than later after she’d spent several years trying to make it in show business.”

  “Well, yeah. That’s true. Khrystal says that too. Sometimes, I think it’s more about crushing the parents’ dreams. For some reason, when their kids sing, they don’t hear the same thing the rest of us hear. I sure hope I’m not going to be like that.”

  I chuckled. “Don’t worry. If I ever thought little Michael sucked at something, I’d tell you.” I turned to go back to my cubicle.

  He laughed. “I can always count on you. I’d do the same if you and Brad were in denial about your own talentless kid.”

  I spun around. “Wait. What?”

  Bernie was grinning.

  I scowled at him. “Ha-ha. Very funny. You shouldn’t be making jokes when we have a couple of murders and an abduction to solve.” I went back to my desk and stared at the mail.

  “Good morning.” Theresa ambled past, smiling. “A courier dropped off a box out front for you guys.” She had a bakery bag in one hand. The other hand was holding a hot drink cup with a tea bag tag hanging over the edge. “I would’ve brought it in for you, but my hands are kind of full.” She held the bakery bag and drink cup in the air as she continued toward her cubicle across the room.

  If I wasn’t stuffed with pancakes, I might’ve begged for whatever was in the bag. I peered over the wall at Bernie. “I’ll get it. Maybe it’s the DVDs.”

  Bernie leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen on his thigh. “Let’s hope. Otherwise, we got nothing.”

  “We still need to talk to Jen,” I said.

  He leaned forward and pulled his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll work on tracking her down.”

  I left him to it while I went to get the package.

  As we’d hoped, the package did contain the Mega Star DVDs. As I set up the video room to watch them, I had a better idea. I ran it by Bernie, and we decided it would be better to see if Jen was home. Theresa volunteered to spend some time watching the DVDs. She’d brought her breakfast in, and the pastry fragrance filled the room. She nibbled on a cheese danish with cherries in the center.

  I slid the remote across the table toward Theresa. “Can you write down the contestants’ names for us?”

  “This isn’t my first day on the job, you know. Of course, I will.” She propped her feet on the table and sipped tea. She gave me a three-fingered wave. “See ya.” She picked up the remote and started the video with a smile on her face.

  I shook my head and left her there. I thought she would enjoy watching the unedited version of Mega Star. Although grateful for the assistance, it irked me that she was going to enjoy it. Still, I didn’t want to watch Teena torment kids. Their parents? Yeah, I would have liked to see her have a go at a few of them. I didn’t believe they couldn’t tell that their children couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. I wondered if the contestants were paid for each week they remained on the show. If so, being eliminated would be a motive for someone to kill Teena if they thought it was her fault.

  Something to think about. I left the building.

  Bernie was already in the car with the engine running when I got to the parking lot. His head was bobbing, and his mouth was moving as if he was singing. I opened the car door to him singing the song “Happy” from one of the Despicable Me movies. Who knew my partner could carry a tune?

  He turned in his seat. “What took you so long? I thought you were right behind me.”

  “I didn’t know you could sing.”

  He grinned. “I’m good, aren’t I?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, I was talking to Theresa. She’s going to start watching the DVDs for us.” I glanced at him. “You’re welcome.”

  He laughed. “I don’t think she’s doing it for us. She’s going to have fun while we run around all day.” He pulled out of the parking space and rolled toward the street.

  “Well, it is our case, not hers. I’m glad she’s available to help out.”

  Bernie looked at me while we waited for the light to change. “Maybe you’re glad, but I kind of wanted to watch.”

  “Hunh. Nobody’s stopping you. Have at it. Take them home with you. The more eyes on them, the better.”

  “I might just do that.” The light changed, and he started head bobbing and silent singing. Somebody was in a good mood.

  I called Mike to check on Mac. He told me she’d been awake and talking earlier. They were planning to discharge her the next day. He seemed less angry with me. My parents told him they would stop by soon.

  About an hour later, we were ringing Jen Conrad’s doorbell. Bernie banged on the door. The driveway was empty, but her car could’ve been in the garage. He
told me he’d called her from the station. She didn’t answer the phone, and her voice mail was full. I didn’t think he should’ve left a message anyway. Why give her another reason to leave?

  The peephole darkened. “Who is it?” someone snapped.

  “Detectives Bernard and Valentine of the San Sansolita PD,” Bernie said. “We’d like to talk to Jen Conrad.”

  Silence.

  “Ms. Conrad?” Bernie asked. “Can we come in? We’d prefer to discuss this in private.”

  “Is this about Teena Travis? It’s all over the news. I don’t know anything about what happened to her.”

  “We’d still like to talk to you,” I said. “As part of our investigation, we’re talking to everyone who knew or had contact with her.”

  “How long will this take?” Jen asked.

  “Not long.” Bernie shook his head and sighed.

  “All right.” She unlocked the door then opened it. “I don’t know what I can do to help.” She stepped aside. She was wearing black skinny jeans and was petite and slim with straight, shoulder-length dark hair. Her brown eyes were heavily lined with black eyeliner. She looked like a raccoon. “Come in.” Her lips pursed, and her raccoon eyes narrowed.

  “Thank you.” Bernie stepped back and allowed me to enter first.

  We stood in the entry, which was a square of three feet on all sides. The living room was beyond that and was about ten by twelve. She had an eat-in kitchen, like mine. From what I could see of her house, it wasn’t much bigger than my apartment. No wonder she wanted to be the mean one, if what Billi had told us was true. She’d make enough money to live like Teena was living.

  “We can talk in here.” She went into the living room, which was a few steps away. She waved us to an ugly mud-colored sofa, and she took a sturdy green chair. The white walls were bare and the discolored beige carpet had thin patches.

  Bernie and I sat on the sofa and faced her with our notebooks out. Bernie forgot the digital recorder at the station.

  “Ms. Conrad, can you tell us where you were the evening before last?” Bernie asked.

  She leaned back in her chair. Her feet skimmed the floor. She crossed her short legs. “I was on my way to Vegas.”