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

by Danielle Lenee Davis

  I raised my eyebrows. “What time did you leave for Vegas?”

  “Late in the afternoon the day before. It might’ve been around four or five o’clock. I’m not sure.”

  I wrote that down and looked back up at her. “You can’t be more specific?”

  “I’m not sure about the time. I’ve already said that.” Her gaze shifted from Bernie to me. “I am, however, sure that I wasn’t at Teena’s house. As I said, I was still in Vegas.” She smirked as she casually swung her leg, which was still crossed over her knee.

  “Were you friends?” I asked.

  She scoffed. “You’re kidding, right?” Her body went rigid.

  “Were you enemies?” Bernie asked.

  “We weren’t anything outside of work. We were coworkers. Nothing more.” She studied her nails. “Quite honestly, I didn’t think Teena had friends, unless you counted Chico.”

  I studied her cool demeanor. “How was your working relationship with her?”

  Her mouth still hinted at a smirk. “It was like her working relationship with anyone else.”

  She was starting to piss me off. “I’m not asking about anyone else. I’m asking about you.”

  “Look, I know you’ve already talked to a few people, and you know that she and I merely tolerated one another.”

  I stared her down.

  She scowled. “That doesn’t mean that I’d harm her.”

  A headache was forming behind my eyes. “Where did you stay when you went to Vegas?”

  “Oh, one of the smaller hotels on the strip.” She flicked a hand at us. “I can’t remember which one. Sorry.”

  “How did you pay for it?” I tapped my pen on the notebook.

  She studied her nails.

  I leaned forward. “Ms. Conrad, what means of payment did you use to pay for your hotel stay?”

  She smiled. “Cash. I paid cash.”

  I sighed. “Did you go alone?”

  “You know, I think I’d like to stop here.” She stood. “I feel like you’re getting entirely too personal. My personal life is not your business.” She’d placed her hands on her slim hips. “I didn’t kill Teena. That’s all I have to say.” She pranced to the door and opened it. “Please leave.”

  We had no probable cause to bring her in for questioning. Nobody admitted to seeing her near Teena’s house. Lack of confirmation by a third party for her whereabouts during the time of the murder wasn’t enough to bring her in without other evidence. Threatening to take her in would do no good. She knew better and had already told us she was done talking to us. We left her home without another word to her. Bernie climbed into the driver’s seat, and I rode shotgun.

  “Well?” Bernie let out a long breath.

  “I thought it was interesting. I think she was lying about Vegas. We didn’t get the chance to ask her about the fight between her and Teena that Billi told us about. Do you remember? The fight that started in the writers’ room?” I stared at Jen’s front door, sure she was watching us from inside.

  Bernie glanced at the door. “Why do you think she was lying?”

  “Because her neighbors saw her leaving her house the morning Teena’s body was discovered. However, Jen told us she was in Vegas at that time. She can’t be in two places at once. Maybe her neighbors were mistaken about the day or time, but I don’t think that’s the case. Perhaps she was in Vegas with a man. It could be someone she doesn’t want us to know about.”

  “Curtis Walker, the executive producer?” Bernie asked. “Billi didn’t say if he was married, not that it matters to some people.”

  “I don’t know. We saw him at his house after we left Teena’s. He wasn’t in Vegas with Jen, if she was there.” I flipped through my notes. “I don’t see any mention of salaries for Billi or Jen.”

  “If Jen was messing around with him, why wouldn’t she be making more money? Because Teena was better than her?”

  I shrugged. “With him, it would definitely be about who brought him higher ratings. From what everyone’s saying, that person was Teena.”

  Jen’s garage door slid up, and a banged-up blue Toyota Prius backed down the driveway. Jen stared at us as she rolled out onto the street. She smiled as she passed. I jotted down the license plate number. “I’m going to run her plates.” I fired up the laptop.

  “Want to tail her?” Bernie watched her go.

  “No. We’re made. There’s no point. She’d lead us on a wild goose chase all over the place just for fun.” I scrolled on the screen and tapped it. “She had a speeding ticket, which she dealt with. That’s about it.”

  “All right,” Bernie said. “I wonder how Theresa’s doing with the DVDs.”

  “She’s still sitting there with her feet on the table, but eating pizza by now.”

  “Let’s go check on her progress.” Bernie started heading back down Redlands Boulevard on his way to the 10 East.

  My phone rang, and I answered.

  “Detective Valentine? Curtis Walker.”

  I silently groaned. “What can I do for you, Mr. Walker?”

  Bernie raised his eyebrows but continued to drive.

  “I had the DVDs delivered earlier. Have you made an arrest yet?”

  “We received the DVDs. Thank you for sending them. We have not made an arrest.”

  He sighed. “Well, what have you been doing? I’ve given you what you requested. Have you even watched the videos?”

  What was with this guy? “Mr. Walker, I cannot provide you with information on an ongoing investigation.”

  “That sounds like you haven’t watched them. Are you going to watch the videos? Surely, between you and your partner, one of you can find the time to watch the videos.”

  “Again, I cannot discuss that with you.” I rolled my eyes. “Is there anything else?”

  “No. You’ve been quite unhelpful.” He disconnected.

  I stared at the phone and shook my head. “Idiot.”

  Bernie laughed. “What did he want?”

  “He kept asking if we’d watched the videos.”

  “Maybe you should’ve asked him if there was a particular video we should be paying attention to. It almost sounds like he thinks there’s a clue there.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. His arrogance pisses me off. It’s like he thinks everyone, including us, are at his beck and call.” I rubbed my temples.

  “I guess he’s used to exactly that.”

  “Well, I should’ve told him off, but that might be unprofessional.”

  “It’s never stopped you before.”

  “Bite me.” I checked my text messages, but there weren’t any. Maybe Brad was still angry about me not calling him the night of the break-in.

  Bernie pulled onto the freeway on-ramp. “Have you heard from Brad?”

  “Nope.” I’d done it this time. He was done with me.

  “Here’s a suggestion,” Bernie said. “Call him.”

  “I will later.” I knew that I wouldn’t. I watched the scenery breeze by.

  “Oh, I get it. You don’t want me to hear you talking to Brad. Trouble in paradise?”

  I didn’t think that was funny. “Shut it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  On the way back to the station, I received a call from Theresa and put her on speakerphone.

  “I’m about to get out of here and wanted to give you a call. I’ve watched some of the videos, and there were a few where Teena was being especially nasty. The one that got my attention the most showed one of the audience members coming toward Teena and yelling her name. If the security guard hadn’t caught up to her, I don’t know what would’ve happened. Who knows what her intentions were? She was dragged away before anything happened. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure if the woman was angry or just an overly excited fan.”

  “What happened to cause her to suddenly get out of her seat and behave that way?” I asked. “Did Teena say something to the woman’s child?”

  “That’s just it. A guy, who mus
t’ve been in his late twenties, had just performed. The performance was okay. I mean he wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t that great either. Teena actually wasn’t rude to him at all. She even encouraged him. It was strange. She even smiled a little. I don’t know if the woman was related to him, and I couldn’t tell if she said anything other than Teena’s name. She was struggling when they took her away, though.”

  “Maybe the incident had nothing to do with him. She could’ve been a crazed fan,” I said.

  “Beats me. I didn’t get it. That’s the type of thing they’d never show on the air. You know, Teena being nice to someone. Anyway, I wrote down the contestant’s name, but now I can’t find it. Maybe the security guard will remember what happened. I’ll track down the contestant’s name before I leave and get it to you. Later, guys.” She hung up.

  “Well, that’s a start. Curtis Walker might know, but you’ve pissed him off.” Bernie was grinning. Funny man.

  “You know how to use the phone. Call him. I’m tired of talking to him anyway.” I gazed out the window as Bernie pulled into the station parking lot.

  “I’ll give him a call. Maybe I’ll find out what he’s been trying to lead you to.” He headed toward the entrance. “I’ll let you know what he says, and I’ll get the contestant’s name from Theresa.”

  “See you later.” I climbed into my car and checked on Mac. Mike told me she was doing well. I called Brad, and his voice mail came on. Damnit. “Hi, Brad. It’s me. Give me a call. Bye.” I sat there debating whether I should go to his house or go home.

  I started my car and rolled out of the parking lot. I was on a mission.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in my car with the engine running, a few doors down from Brad’s house. A white compact car I’d never seen before was parked in front of his house, and another light-colored car was parked in front of the house next door to him. Lights shone through his windows, but that was no indication he was home. He had timers on the lights throughout his house. The area near the front door was dark because the porch light was off. The driveway was empty. He usually parked his truck in the garage. I hit redial on my phone and called him again. I got his voice mail and didn’t leave a message. He lived on a street with few streetlights. The swaying branches from the tall maple trees created shadows on the houses, giving them an eerie appearance.

  I took a deep breath, not knowing what I would find if I rang the doorbell. I got out and trudged up the concrete walkway toward the door, which was around the corner from the garage. I reached for the doorbell, but the garage door creaked open before I could press it. I jumped away from the door, looking around. I wondered if Brad was leaving the house or arriving. I hadn’t heard his truck come up the street when I approached the door. I stepped off the porch and looked around the corner toward the driveway. I watched Brad roll out of the driveway with his back to me. A pretty blonde sat in the passenger seat. She had the lighted visor mirror down and was focused on applying her lipstick. I’d used that visor mirror myself at times. Brad turned the steering wheel, never noticing me or my car, apparently. He rolled away, stopped at the bank of mailboxes at the end of his street, then got out of his truck.

  I’d worked myself up all day, and now my anxiety seemed to be rushing back at me in full force. I blinked back tears then swallowed before hurrying to my car. Maybe the blonde was a family member, a cousin perhaps. That might have been why he hadn’t returned my texts or calls. I sat in my car, swiping at the tears that had escaped my burning eyes. I swallowed again and took a deep breath, trying to compose myself.

  “No. Get it together. It’s okay. This isn’t what I think it is.” I started my car but waited until Brad climbed back into his truck and drove away before turning on my headlights.

  Once his truck had turned the corner, I followed him. I guessed I was now officially a stalker. I told myself I had to do it. I owed it to myself. That was probably what all stalkers said, even up to the point when they were standing over their lover’s bloody corpse with a gun or knife in their hand. I shook that image out of my head and blinked rapidly. I knew I would never do that. I wasn’t a nut case. Again, that thought process was what they all said. I kept that in mind as I drove.

  I continued to follow them to the Starbucks on Third Street. Brad pulled into the drive-thru then placed his order. I figured that was the blonde’s idea because Brad had mentioned to me on more than one occasion that he thought Starbucks was overpriced and he didn’t understand how it had become so popular. I waited in a nearby darkened parking lot until they drove past, ducking when his headlights floated over my car. I gave them a few seconds before following, and I caught up to them at a red light. Two cars separated us. I was concerned about making the light when it changed because I knew it was a short light. If the first driver wasn’t paying attention, nobody else would get through.

  Brad appeared to be turned toward the blonde, laughing. Jerk. The woman tossed something out the window. Litterbug. The light changed, and I hurried to make it before the yellow light turned red. Brad was the first vehicle at the next light. I would lose him for sure if the cars in front of me were slow to move.

  My heart pounded. My palms were sweating, and I didn’t know whether to cry or be angry. Although I’d encountered life-threatening situations in my career, I wasn’t cut out for stalking boyfriends. It was difficult since I didn’t have enough information to understand the situation unfolding before my eyes. If it was innocent and I got caught, I might be jeopardizing my relationship, not to mention my sanity, by continuing this pursuit. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d become the type of woman I had despised in the past. If Mac knew what I was doing, she would have shaken the living daylights out of me.

  When the light changed, I made a right as he made a left, and I headed home. I needed to trust him because I couldn’t trust myself at the moment. Still, I kept coming back to the same question: why hadn’t he been in touch with me since our breakfast that morning? I simply didn’t know. I would find out eventually. I just wanted to go home, take a hot shower, and drink hot chocolate. Eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with lots of gooey peanut butter sounded like a good idea. In other words, I would sulk. I couldn’t call Mac for reassurance. She had her own problems. Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream for dessert would have to suffice. There was a pint in the freezer with my name on it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I woke up early the next morning with a tightness in my jaw and a headache. I’d probably been gritting my teeth throughout the night. I’d gone to bed after eating nearly a pint of ice cream, and I felt bloated. I’d never heard from Bernie about whether he’d reached Curtis Walker regarding the crazed audience member. I was not in the mood for Walker’s calls. I didn’t care a rat’s ass about his show’s ratings. I hoped Bernie was able to get information from him.

  I checked my cell phone for new texts, missed calls, and voice mails. I had none. Bummer. I rolled out of bed, stood in the shower, and boiled my skin for a while, thinking about the case and Brad. If I wanted to solve this case, I needed to forget about Brad for now. He was distracting. I’d already been losing sleep thinking about our relationship.

  I threw on a pair of worn Levi’s and a forest-green long-sleeve T-shirt. I tucked the shirt in and added a belt. I shoved my feet into a pair of dark-green cowgirl booties then added my holster and Glock. I looked in the full-length mirror, turning to see all sides. Yeah, I looked good, way better than Brad’s blond bimbo. My auburn curls looked great with the T-shirt. I shook my hair out and smiled at my reflection before strutting to the kitchen for something to drink.

  My mouth felt cottony, but I wasn’t hungry. I guessed wolfing down hundreds of ice cream calories in one sitting would do that to a person. I downed a glass of low-fat milk, which seemed hypocritical after my binge-fest. It is what it is. I left my apartment, ready to begin my day of dealing with the degenerates of our society, as Brad had put it.

  I got to work earlier than most
of the other detectives in my squad, so I took advantage of the quiet time and read a few of the remaining fan letters from Bernie’s stash. After an hour, I’d found nothing that stood out. I got hungry and looked in one of my desk drawers for a tea bag and Wheaties cereal. I kept a bowl and spoon in there too. I took my mug with a photo of my nephew Josh on it to the coffee station to get hot water. My stomach rumbled.

  “Wow. What was that?” Bernie walked into the kitchen, holding a San Diego Chargers mug of steaming black coffee. “Was that your stomach?”

  The odor of his coffee assaulted my nostrils. “Yep. I’m starving, so get out of my way or get eaten.” I checked the expiration date on the milk then poured it over my Wheaties.

  Bernie led the way out of the kitchen. “By the way, I didn’t speak to Walker yesterday. He never picked up and didn’t return my call. I’ll try again this morning.”

  “I read a few more of Teena’s fan letters this morning and came up with zilch. Nothing seemed off.” I held my mug and bowl in one hand and spooned cereal into my mouth as I walked.

  “I’ll call Walker and join you when I’m done,” he said.

  Moments later, I leaned over the cubicle wall and peered at Bernie. “I’m going to watch the DVDs now. I want to see the one Theresa mentioned. Do you have Theresa’s note about the contestant who came at Teena from the audience?”

  “It’s Kathy Lawrence. I already called this morning. She didn’t answer, and she didn’t have voice mail. Who doesn’t have voice mail nowadays?” He plucked Theresa’s note from a pile and gave it to me. “Here you go.”

  Carrying my tea and cereal, I made my way to the video room to watch the show. We were encouraged to leave our food and drinks at our desks, but I felt like a rebel.

  I closed the door, turned up the volume, and watched the show. I viewed over two hours of it, and it was just the camera following contestants around as they rehearsed. Boring. According to the date written on the DVD, it was taped a few weeks ago over a period of several days. I wondered in which order Theresa had watched them. I wanted to fast-forward, but didn’t. I called Theresa but got her voice mail. I called Bernie and asked him if Theresa was in yet. He told me she wasn’t. I studied the audience as the camera panned across the crowd. I wanted to see if I could pick out Kathy Lawrence by her facial expression while the other contestants performed.