Under the Moonlight collection

by MaryAnn Kempher

  For being pals and business partners, Jack realized how little he knew about Curt’s life in general. “What did you do after the Army?” asked Jack. “Before you started working on the cruise ship?”

  Curt’s eyebrow rose. “Let’s just say I did a little freelance work.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know what my job was in the Army, right?”

  “Sure. You were a sniper.”

  “Yeah. I sort of continued to work for the government in the same capacity…only this new position had looser rules.”

  The pieces were coming together. “Below the law, maybe?”

  “Depends on who you’re asking.”

  “Ah,” Jack nodded. “I see.”

  He wondered what else he might not know about his partner…and what, if anything, might lend itself to the business they were building.

  Chapter Five

  Detectives Nolan and Spencer formed an unlikely partnership. Nolan was in his late-thirties, with salt-and-pepper hair, and habitually wore slightly-wrinkled clothes due to his hectic work schedule—and his wife’s dislike of ironing. Spencer, on the other hand, was in his late-twenties, tall and skinny, and his clothes, though ironed, seemed straight out of an old ‘70s movie. Nolan was easy going and professional; Spencer was slightly lazy, but sharp-witted. In their own comfortable way, their partnership worked.

  Nolan had been awakened around eight o’clock Saturday morning with a call from dispatch: a woman’s body had been found by her cleaning service, with a gunshot wound to the chest. The crime scene unit and forensic photographer were already at the property. So he dressed, kissed his wife, and rushed out the door.

  He pulled into a sub-division of an upper middle-class neighborhood; nice, but not too nice. He parked and approached a uniformed officer standing near the front door, showed his ID, and signed the officer’s clipboard. Then he walked inside to survey the scene.

  He entered cautiously, staying near the front door and carefully examining the path into the living room. The kitchen was to his left. He could see the woman’s body on the couch, with a blanket covering her. An end table near the couch had been overturned. Victim fought with her attacker, maybe? he thought. Spencer joined him a few minutes later. They watched as the crime scene unit and photographer went over the scene with meticulous detail. Nolan and Spencer would have to wait until they were finished to begin their work.

  Spencer yawned. “The maid couldn’t have found the body at a more reasonable hour?”

  “Guess not,” Nolan answered.

  “Is that…” Spencer asked, pointing at the woman’s body.

  “Yeah, it looks like it is,” Nolan answered. “It’s Candy Dashwood.”

  “Wow,” Spencer sighed.

  “Did you know her?”

  “I knew of her…stories about her.” Nolan looked at him sideways. “It’s no secret she likes dating cops—or liked, rather.”

  After an hour of waiting patiently, they stepped aside to let the crime scene unit and photographer pass, then slowly entered the living room. Spencer headed for the kitchen, sidestepping the bloodstains on the carpet and ducking cautiously under the crime scene tape.

  In the middle of the kitchen was a wooden workstation. It held nothing but a knife block with six knife handles sticking out. Spencer made a mental note to check the knives for blood. He carefully walked around the kitchen, avoiding blood splatter and mud on the floor. There was a small window over the sink, with two plants at one end of the sill, and an empty picture frame at the other. A third plant was in the garbage.

  He walked over to a door that led to the back yard and stepped outside. “Come look at this,” he yelled to Nolan.

  Nolan walked to the open door and looked in the direction Spencer was pointing. There were two steps outside the door; the area just beyond them was flat and grassless, but it was wet from the rain that had fallen the night before. A muddy shoe impression could be seen clearly in the surface.

  “Make sure the photographer took pictures of that,” said Nolan, “and ensure a mold is done.”

  Both men went back into the house, and Spencer pointed out the blood on the kitchen floor. Then they went into the living room, being careful to avoid the blood trail from the kitchen to the couch.

  Nolan knelt beside Candy’s lifeless body. He put on rubber gloves and pulled down the blanket that covered Candy’s body, revealing the word “whore” written across her forehead in lipstick, then pulled it low enough to show one small hole in her chest. Until that moment, neither had realized she was nude, though it came as no surprise to either.

  “Raped?” Spencer suggested.

  Nolan shrugged. “We’ll have to wait for the medical examiner to tell us for sure. But that,” he pointed toward the bullet hole, “looks like it came from a .22 or .25.”

  Spencer nodded. “From the blood splatter and the trail, it looks like she was killed in the kitchen, then moved to the couch. Whoever did it took the time to bring her out here and cover her with a blanket. I’m no profiler, but I’m guessing she knew her killer. There may have been some remorse.”

  “Remorse?” asked Nolan, pointing to the word on Candy’s forehead. “That doesn’t say remorse to me…that says jealous rage.”

  Spencer shook his head. “It’s possible that one followed the other.”

  Nolan didn’t have a reply for that. “Anything unusual in the kitchen?” he asked.

  “Blood splatter, mud on the floor, and a dirt stain on the window sill where a plant used to be. Looks like the plant might have fallen…maybe during a struggle. Someone took the time to throw it in the garbage, pot and all. There’s an empty picture frame, too.”

  Nolan stood. “Get with the crime scene guys and make sure they dusted that pot for prints. Let’s take a look upstairs.”

  Candy’s room was different from the rest of the house; it was neat, yet lived in, and her bathroom was messy though not dirty. Spencer pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket, put them on and opened the drawers of her bedside table. The first held a few magazines and a personal massager, the second a notepad and some papers. He began thumbing through them until he found something that stopped him.

  “Look at this,” he said, holding one of the papers.

  Nolan read out loud what was written on the paper:

  C, I refuse to be ignored. I know what you’re doing. I don’t care, I just want in on the action. If I don’t hear from you soon, you’ll both be sorry.

  “Blackmail?” asked Spencer.

  “Kind of looks that way, doesn’t it?” said Nolan. “The question is, by who and why?”

  Nolan and Spencer finished searching the room, but found nothing of particular interest. They went back downstairs and headed toward the front door. Once outside Nolan said, “Let’s start interviewing family and friends.”

  “Who first?” Spencer asked.

  “Let’s start with her supervisor, Pike. He can tell us next of kin…and they can give us the names of her friends.”

  “Mind if I sit that conversation out?” said Spencer, half-serious. Sergeant Pike divided his time between working full-time with the police department and heading up the mayor’s security team. Thanks to his seniority, he’d been allowed to keep his office and his administrative assistant, Candy. His volatile personality was well-known in the department. It was common for his visitors to first ask Candy about his mood before entering his office. It was usually bad. Spencer wasn’t looking forward to the chat.

  Neither was Nolan.

  Nolan smiled. “No way,” he said. “There’s safety in numbers.”

  Chapter Six

  The detective agency was closed on Sundays, but the candy store was open seven days a week. While Sundays weren’t their busiest day, they could always count on mothers and grandmothers dressed in their best clothes to bring their children or grandchildren by for a quick treat.

  When the morning passed with just a few customers—and then the afterno
on as well—Nene was perplexed. She could see people walking up and down the streets, but hadn’t seen any cars. At around three o’clock, a man came into the store, looked around, picked up a few Charleston Chews and headed to the counter.

  “Good afternoon sir,” said Nene. “How are you today?”

  “I’m great, thanks. Beautiful day for a walk.”

  “Yes,” answered Nene. “Business has been slow…I’m tempted to close early so I can take advantage of this nice weather while it lasts.” Nene held out the man’s change.

  “I live just a few blocks from here,” the man said, taking his money. “I’ve driven past your store a number of times and always planned to stop in. Since I was out walking anyway, I figured today would be the day.”

  “Well, I’m happy you stopped by.”

  “Do you happen to know why the streets are blocked?”

  Nene’s confusion showed. “What do you mean?”

  “There are cones at both ends, blocking the entrance to this area.”

  “Well,” Nene said, “it’s no wonder the store has been so quiet today, then. The city must be have something to do with it. Would have been nice to be warned.”

  “Didn’t stop me from getting here,” the man said as he walked to the door. He smiled on his way out. “You have a nice day.”

  Nene was concerned. She went back to the counter and picked up the phone to call Gaga upstairs.

  “Did you know our street was blocked off by cones?”

  “No,” Gaga answered.

  “Well, it is, and thanks to it, I’ve only had a few customers all day.”

  “I’ll be down soon,” Gaga said, hanging up.

  A few minutes later, Gaga entered the store, clearly annoyed. “Did you call anyone about the cones?” she asked.

  “No. It’s Sunday, I doubt anyone is around to call. Anyways, if they’re still out there tomorrow, I’ll call someone, and find out why.”

  “Hmph,” said Gaga. “What a load of bologna.”

  Nene watched as Gaga hurried out of the store, passing by their window. A few minutes later, she returned to the store, breathing heavily.

  “What did you do?” Nene asked suspiciously. “Where’d you go?”

  “What do you think I did? I moved the cones. After I catch my breath, I’ll go to the other end of the street and move the rest.”

  Nene looked a little worried. “You don’t think we’ll get into trouble, do you?”

  “Nah, how are they going to know we moved them? And who would care if they did? The least the city could have done before they put them out was to tell us beforehand. So I say, the heck with them.”

  Nene smiled. Gaga had always been full of piss and vinegar.

  “Yeah,” Nene said, with false bravado. “The heck with them.”

  Gaga took a soft drink out of the mini-fridge and placed it on her forehead. “Well,” she said with a chuckle. “I’m off to fight city hall.”

  “My hero,” Nene chimed. “Just don’t give yourself a heart attack.”

  Gaga rolled her eyes and walked out the door.

  Nene looked down at the display case filled with thick chocolate brownies and newly-arrived cupcakes. She licked her lips and sighed, then reached into the mini-fridge and took out a carrot.

  “Just call me Bugs Bunny,” she said out loud, as she reluctantly took a bite.

  Chapter Seven

  On Monday morning, Curt and Jack both arrived to work around the same time. “What a pain in the ass, huh?” Curt said.

  “I take it you had to park three blocks away too?” Jack asked.

  “Yep. What the hell is up with the cones?”

  “I have no idea,” Jack told him.

  They let themselves into the office, quickly followed by Nene Albright.

  “Good morning!” she said.

  “Good morning,” the men answered.

  Curt crossed the room and began making coffee.

  “How was your weekend?” Jack asked as he sat.

  Ms. Albright sat in the chair near his desk. To Jack, she’d had always been pleasantly plump, her body round and her cheeks full, but as she sat nearby, she had clearly been winded by some activity. He hoped for her sake she was sticking to her diet, and that owning a bakery wasn’t too much temptation.

  “Very nice,” she answered. “We had an important visitor.”

  “Oh yeah?” Nene told Jack about the mayor’s assistant and about the upcoming news conference.

  “Well,” said Jack. “That is exciting. And right out front, too. Hopefully they get the front of the building on camera. Maybe drum up some business.”

  “They might come inside and interview us, too” she said.

  “You and your sister?” Curt asked.

  “Well,” Nene said. “Gaga and I thought it best that they just interview me.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Curt.

  Nene’s eyes met Jack’s. Jack suspected the answer, but kept quiet, and Nene didn’t answer Curt either. She simply stood and walked to the door.

  “Say, Ms. Albright,” Jack said, “do you know why the street is blocked off?”

  “Again?” she asked. “It had been that way yesterday, but the cones had been moved out of the way…someone must have put them back. I’m going to start making some calls. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  Just a few minutes after Ms. Albright left, a petite woman entered the office. Her sudden appearance surprised the men, not just because it was so early in the morning, or because until that moment nobody other than the Albright sisters had seemed to know they existed. It was because the woman was unusual, to say the least.

  Maybe it was inaccurate to say Jack had never seen a woman with blonde and pink hair, but it wasn’t an everyday occurrence for him. The fact that her arms were covered in elaborate, colorful tattoos didn’t faze him either. But he had to force himself not to stare at her lips. They were full and painted very red. He couldn’t decide if they were disturbing or gorgeous.

  When she spoke, he and Curt looked at each as if to ask, “Is this a joke?”

  “My name is Daisy,” she said. “Daisy Sunset. I need a detective.” Her voice was airy and slightly high, like a young girl, though she looked at least thirty.

  Curt pointed to the chair near his desk. He was mesmerized by her. “Please,” he said, “sit down.”

  Jack’s eyes smiled, but he hid his amusement. Whoever she was and whatever she needed, it was clear that Curt would take care of her.

  “So…Daisy Sunset,” Curt repeated.

  “Yes,” Daisy answered. “My parents were wannabe hippies.”

  “What a beautiful name,” he told her.

  Daisy smiled and looked away. “Thank you.”

  “I’m Curt Noble, this is my partner Jack Harney. What is it that we can do for you?”

  “Your sign says no case too big, or too small.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, I own a pet store. Fish, and turtles, and hamsters, parakeets, and other birds. Through the course of the last week, three of my most expensive birds have gone missing. I checked the surveillance tape, and I found something unusual: One minute the birds are there, and the next they’re not. Somehow, someone is getting into the store, avoiding the cameras, and stealing my birds. I’d like to hire you to find out who it is and how they’re doing it.”

  “Interesting,” Jack said. “It’s just the birds?’

  “Yes,” answered Daisy, “so far.”

  “Have you called the police?” asked Curt.

  “I did, yes, when the first bird went missing. When the police showed up at the shop, they were more interested in making jokes about my hair or tattoos.” She look away. “One even made a pass at me.”

  Curt eyes narrowed. “I’m so sorry. Of course, I can come to your shop and take a look around.”

  “I don’t have a lot of money,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about that. We’ll work out something reasonable.�
� Curt looked at his partner. “Won’t we, Jack?”

  Jack grimaced. He had a sneaking suspicion ‘reasonable’ meant free. “Oh yeah…sure. Of course.”

  Curt smiled. “Is now a good time for you Ms. Sunset?”

  The woman smiled. “Please, call me Daisy.” She stood. “Yes, now would be perfect.”

  She looked up at Curt, smiling shyly. Curt smiled back, put his hand on the small of her back and led her out the door.

  ***

  Daisy’s pet shop was the size of an average convenience store, not huge, but not small. Similar to the detective agency, the front of the store had a large window, so the interior was brightly lit. Birds were chirping, hamsters were nesting in shavings, and an entire wall held tanks filled with multi-colored fish.

  “Why don’t you show me around,” said Curt.

  The store had two entrances—one at the front for the customers, and one at the back for deliveries. The back entrance was right off Daisy’s office.

  She walked Curt to the empty cages. “These all held birds, then one morning I came in and they were gone. Poof—into thin air.”

  Curt looked around the store. “How many employees do you have?” he asked. “Could it be one of your staff?”

  Daisy seemed shocked by the suggestion. “It’s just me and Lonnie. She’s been with me since I opened. I trust her.”

  “Can I see the surveillance footage?”

  Curt and Daisy went into her office. On a table near her desk was a small television. The images were from a camera that rotated, showing a full circular view of the pet store. She pushed a button, and the screen went dark.

  “This is from the first night that the birds went missing. These birds had just been delivered that morning.”

  Curt watched closely. The monitor showed the time to be two-thirty in the morning.

  At first, he saw movement on the video.

  “Did you see that?” he asked.

  Daisy peered closer at the monitor as Curt ran it back. “What is it?” she asked, watching it again.

  “I don’t know,” said Curt. “Just a movement. Maybe…a small child.”