Under the Moonlight collection

by MaryAnn Kempher

  Jack reached down and pulled Boris out, wiping dirt off the dog’s snout before setting him down.

  Mr. Bryan stood in the doorway. “Bad dog…bad,” he said.

  “Sorry about that, Mr. Bryan,” said Jack. “I was coming over to ask for your help.”

  Mr. Bryan reached down and put a leash on Boris. “With what?”

  “This,” said Jack, turning toward the plant. “Ms. Albright said you knew a thing or two about plants. This one isn’t looking so well.”

  Mr. Bryan looked the plant up and down. “Have you been watering it?” he asked loudly.

  Jack wanted to roll his eyes, but refrained. “Yes…I actually have been watering it.”

  “Maybe,” said Mr. Bryan. “You should move it over to the window. Let it get some more light.”

  “Can’t hurt to try, can it?” Jack did what he’d suggested, dragging the heavy plant across the room and into the light. He reached down and patted the dirt disrupted by Boris.

  Mr. Bryan walked over and made another examination.

  “Do you think that was the problem?” Jack asked.

  Mr. Bryan sneered. “I think the plant is too big for the pot. Whoever potted it didn’t know what they were doing.”

  Jack had always assumed Nene had bought the plant, now he wondered if she’d done the potting herself.

  “Yep! Yep! Yep!”

  Jack and Mr. Bryan looked over at Boris as he scrambled to climb back into the plant.

  “What kind of dog is Boris?” Curt asked.

  “He’s a mix. Part Yorkie, part bloodhound.”

  That’s some combination,” Curt said, laughing. “His parents must have been acrobats.”

  Mr. Bryan smiled. “If your plant doesn’t perk up by tomorrow, try liquid fertilizer in the soil. If that doesn’t help, buy yourself a new plant. Come on Boris.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bryan,” Jack said, dropping into his chair. He looked at his calendar. They’d been open almost two months, and Daisy had been their only customer so far—and Curt had worked her case for free.

  They were going to have to make some decisions about how much longer to stay open.

  There would be no publicity relating to the investigation of Pike or Elaine Monroe, despite it all happening as the result of Jack’s detective work, which had taken weeks to finish, too. The police department had implied to the press that the discovery had been the result of an undercover operation. So where does this leave us? Jack wondered.

  Curt noticed his partner looking crestfallen. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Jack answered. “Just thinking.”

  Curt walked over to the window and started making coffee. “It’s not fancy,” he said, pointing at the new coffee maker, “but it will do.”

  Jack glanced at the TV.

  The news about Pike and Elaine Monroe was still being discussed, an official from the mayor’s office speaking emphatically. “I stand behind Elaine Monroe…she’s been a trusted servant for the city of Reno over ten years. It appears that Sergeant Christopher Pike, on the other hand, appears to have abused his position for personal gain, and abused the trust of myself and the residents of Reno. However, given the gravity of the situation and the questions lingering over their connection, Ms. Monroe has been placed on administrative leave pending the results of an internal investigation.”

  “Trust me,” Jack said, “I have no sympathy for Pike, dead or alive, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets the blame for all of it. It’s an election year. It’s better for the mayor if it looks like Pike was the real bad guy, not Monroe.”

  “It might not matter,” said Curt. “The other candidate has jumped all over this already. He’s issuing statements through his website implying that the mayor was involved, or she’s incompetent because she should have known what her assistant was up to.”

  “What a mess this will be,” Jack mumbled.

  “Hey – whatever happened with the shoe print they found at Candy’s house? It was a woman’s shoe…do you think it could have come from Monroe?”

  “They think it belonged to Candy,” said Jack. “I don’t agree, but I’m not sure how much it matters at this point.” He hated to admit it, but with Pike dead and Elaine Monroe in custody for what might amount to unrelated issues, there was a real chance that Candy’s murder would go unsolved.

  Gaga wandered in from across the hall again. “It’s tough working the store by myself…so quiet.”

  “I noticed the health department grade is gone from your window,” Jack said.

  “Yes. Someone stopped by early this morning and made another inspection. I haven’t really done any cleaning since Nene and I worked on it, but the shop passed without a hitch. I still suspect Mr. Burch had something to do with this whole thing.”

  Curt opened his desk drawer. “Ms. Albright, I think this might belong to your sister, it looks like a woman’s watch.” He handed her the watch he’d found.

  She rolled it over in her hand. “This isn’t Nene’s,” said Gaga. She turned it over. “Says ‘Ten years. Congratulations, EM.’ On the back.”

  Jack took the watch and looked at it. “EM…”

  His eyes met Curt’s and they both smiled.

  They might not have known who killed Candy, but they knew who had attacked Nene Albright.

  ***

  Jack wasted no time showing the watch to the DA, who traced it back through city hall to the mayor’s assistant. A comparison of the fingerprints found in Jack and Curt’s office turned up a match, and by Saturday afternoon attempted murder had been added to the charges Elaine Monroe already faced. Mayor Wallace could no longer afford to provide her unwavering support, and by Saturday evening she’d held another news conference asserting that Elaine Monroe had always been, in the mayor’s opinion, one of the most worthless employees the city had ever hired. Mayor Wallace also made sure everyone knew Elaine had been hired by her predecessor, who she was running against in the upcoming election.

  Even though Jack believed Pike had killed Candy as a result of her blackmailing attempts, with Monroe as his accomplice, he had no solid evidence to support it. Off the record, he wasn’t the only one who believed Pike had killed Candy, based upon the paperwork found. The evidence that originally supported Mark Barnes’ arrest had been circumstantial from the beginning. Considering what the district attorney knew now about the whole situation, he was released, though he was still officially considered a person of interest. Nolan told Jack that Mark had put in his resignation paperwork.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jack was at his desk on Saturday afternoon when he received a call from Yvonne. “I was going through old photos of Candy,” she told him, “and I think I’ve depressed myself.” She laughed weakly.

  “That has to be difficult,” he told her.

  “I could really use some company. Would you be open to stopping by and cheering me up a little?”

  He wasn’t really someone who liked to talk about the past. He tried as best as he could to put it behind him and not revisit often. But he considered Yvonne something of a friend, and if talking about Candy would help her move on, it was the least he could do.

  “Sure, I’ll be right over.”

  Yvonne opened her apartment door smiling as she welcomed Jack inside. “Have a seat.”

  One of her dining room chairs held a box of donations. Jack had noticed it the last time he was there. “Are you ever going to drop this off at the thrift store? Or is it a permanent part of your furniture now?”

  Yvonne laughed. “That’s not the same box that was there before. I took care of that one. This one is new.”

  Jack looked into the box. “What is all this stuff, anyway?”

  “Mostly shoes,” said Yvonne. “Diana dropped it off a week or so ago. She’s itching to get into Candy’s house, but I’ve been putting her off.”

  “Why does she want to get into Candy’s house?”

  “They shared clothes sometimes. I told her she could have a
ny clothes of Candy’s that she wanted. I think Candy would have wanted that.”

  Jack looked down at the box of shoes. “These seem pretty new still. Just a little dirty. I’m surprised she’s giving them away.”

  He picked one up, a ladies pump, the heel caked with mud. He turned it over, studied it, squinted and turned it over again.

  “What’s wrong, Jack?” Yvonne asked.

  “Nothing, probably,” he answered. “These were Diana’s?”

  “Yes, and the running shoes. Did Diana tell you that she’s training for a triathlon?”

  “Yes, she did. Impressive.”

  “She’s always been in fabulous shape. She was top of her class when she graduated.”

  “Top of her class?” Jack said. “What do you mean?”

  “I told you, she graduated last June.”

  Seeing the confused look in his face, Yvonne continued,

  “From the police academy.”

  “Diana’s a cop?”

  “Yes. I thought you knew.”

  Jack’s head spun. “Can I take this with me?” Jack asked, holding up the pump.

  Yvonne shrugged. “Sure, of course…for what, again?”

  “Just something I need to look into.”

  ***

  Jack drove to the office at top speed. Curt looked up surprised as his partner rushed in and yanked open the desk drawer. He shook the contents of the crime scene photo envelope out onto his desk. Pictures scattered everywhere.

  “What’s going on, Jack?” asked Curt.

  “Playing a hunch,” he said.

  “About…?” Curt prompted.

  “Candy’s friend Diana.” Jack examined the log sheet that detailed the arrivals and departures of all the officers who entered the murder scene. His eyes quickly traveled to the bottom.

  “I think I know who put the snow globe back on the mantel,” He handed Curt the log sheet. “Look at the bottom, at the first officer on the scene.”

  Curt’s eyes traveled, stopping he said, “Diana Macy. She’s a cop?”

  “Yeah”

  “Well, I’ll be dammed.”

  “Yeah,” said Jack. “Diana was the first cop on the scene, and likely the last.”

  “She never told you she was a cop, did she?”

  “Nope. Funny how that didn’t come up either time I met with her, and she never mentioned she’d been at the crime scene, either. She’s hiding something. I’m going to go see her.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah. I want some answers, and I think Ms. Macy may be the only one who can give them to me.”

  Jack spun to leave and nearly ran into Mark Barnes as he walked into the office.

  “Hey, guys,” said Mark, smiling. “Glad to see you here…I thought maybe you’d be out on a case.”

  Jack smiled back. “Nice to see you in the free world again, Mark.”

  “I can’t tell you how good it feels to be out…and I think I have you to thank for that.” He held out his hand. Jack shook it vigorously. “I really appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure,” Jack answered, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’m glad it worked out for the better.”

  “Nolan tells me you’re leaving the department…”

  “Yeah. I don’t know if I’ll go someplace else and be a cop, or not. Being on the other side of the iron bars changes how you look at things. I really found out who my friends were.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Mark nodded. “Yeah. I’m thinking of going back to school. Don’t laugh, but I was thinking of criminal law. Maybe being a defense attorney. Over the years, I was told by a lot of perps how innocent they were, that I had the wrong guy. I always thought they were just trying to chew their way out of the trap, y’know, but I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Jack said.

  Mark sat in an empty chair. “I saw on the news what Pike and that Monroe woman were involved with. Do you think they killed Candy?”

  “I thought so…until a few minutes ago. Turns out one of Candy’s friends was the first and last cop at the crime scene.

  “Really,” said Mark. “That’s unusual.”

  “That’s not the strange part. This friend didn’t step off the case…chose instead to stay and keep their relationship with Candy a secret.”

  “Now you’ve got my attention,” Mark said, leaning forward. “It’s moved beyond unusual to a little suspicious, right? We know procedure, and that isn’t it.”

  “Even more than that: I think she took items from the scene.”

  “She?”

  “Yeah. Diana Macy.”

  “I just assumed it was a guy.

  “Because I said it was a cop?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah,” Mark admitted. “Does that make me sexist?”

  Jack smiled. “Yeah, it does.”

  Mark shrugged. “Oops,” he said. But this makes more sense.”

  Jack eyed Mark sideways. “Why would that be?”

  “Because I can’t see a guy writing the word ‘whore’ on a woman’s forehead. Sounds more like something another a woman would do, out of jealousy. Maybe Candy was messing with this woman’s man.”

  Jack felt his skin prickle. His eyes met Curt’s. Suddenly, everyone was on high alert.

  “Tell me again about that night,” Jack said.

  Mark seemed surprised by the question.

  “Not much to tell. After the party, Candy and I argued about…me coming over…and then she left. I was a little worked-up, and hoping we’d have more of what we had at the bar, if you know what I mean.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Can we skip that part, please?”

  Mark blushed. “I waited a while, then got into my car and drove over to her place. I parked and was about to get out when I realized someone—a guy—was already at her door.”

  “You didn’t know him?”

  “I’ve had time to think it over. I know she had a thing going with Ryan Gleason, even though I wasn’t supposed to. My guess is it was him. He didn’t stay long, though.”

  “And this made you angry?”

  Jack watched Mark closely. Every cop is familiar with basic body language, and he could tell Mark was growing agitated. Small beads of sweat had formed above Mark’s upper lip, and his hands were clenched into tight fists.

  “Yes,” he answered. “The thought of her and Ryan together….” Mark collected himself, took a deep breath, and unclenched his fists. “It wasn’t a good feeling. Still isn’t. But I didn’t kill her over it. Do you think this friend of Candy’s had anything to do with her death?”

  “I think she knows more than she’s telling me. The one thing that could really help me out is the murder weapon. If I could get my hands on the gun that killed Candy…”

  “It’s always in the last place you’ve looked,” Curt said.

  “Or the first,” Mark added.

  Jack’s ears pricked up. “What did you just say?”

  “Nothing…something my mother used to tell me.”

  Just then Boris scurried into the office, quickly followed by Mr. Bryan.

  “Yep! Yep! Yep!”

  “That dog is a menace,” Curt mumbled.

  Boris made a beeline for the large plant, running and jumping into the dirt. He began digging furiously again.

  “Boris! Boris!” Mr. Bryan called out. “Come back here!”

  Curt laughed as Mark jumped up and ran to the dog, picking up the wiggling body and holding it away from himself as his dirty paws flung dirt in every direction.

  “Yep! Yep! Yep!”

  Mark put Boris down; Boris tried to wriggle through his legs and climb back into the pot. Mr. Bryan rushed toward them, holding a leash, the leash swung and knocked a bottle of water off of Curt’s desk mixing with the dirt and making a muddy mess on the carpet.

  “Ah, jeez,” Jack said as he stood. He grabbed some paper towels from the coffee stand and looked at the floor.

  Mr. Bryan picked Boris up. “Sorr
y for all of this,” he said as he left.

  Mark stared down at the muddy mess.

  “Mark?” Jack said.

  Mark looked up, “Sorry, wool-gathering.”

  He helped Jack clean the water and mud. Jack just looked at him without speaking. “Why are you staring at me?” Mark asked.

  “You didn’t leave, did you?”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “The night Candy died. You didn’t go home, did you?”

  Curt picked up on the tension. He walked over and closed the office door.

  “You went in. Maybe it was Pike you saw, maybe it was Ryan. I don’t know, but once they were gone, you went into Candy’s house, too…didn’t you?”

  “No,” said Mark, “I didn’t. I swear to you, Jack…I didn’t!”

  Jack shook his head side to side, “I can’t believe how gullible I’ve been.”

  Jack picked up the phone and dialed. “Nolan…can I get you to come to my office right away? It’s important.”

  Mark stood. “What the hell is this, Jack?”

  Jack and Curt’s eyes met, Curt remained by the office door, his arms crossed.

  “Sit back down, Mark. Nolan will be here soon.”

  Mark knew he wasn’t getting past Curt. He also knew he wasn’t getting out of this. “I have nothing to say.”

  Jack scratched his chin. “I think you do.”

  There was a solid ten minutes of silence while the men waited. A knock at the office door broke the tension. Curt opened it and Nolan walked in. He looked at the three men. Curt went back to his desk

  “Why am I here?” he looked at Mark and nodded.

  “We were just talking to him about Candy’s friend, Diana, how I thought she might have been at Candy’s house the night of the murder.”

  “That’s news to me,” Nolan said.

  “Diana is Diana Macy…she’s a cop.” Jack explained. “She was first on scene and last, too—only she didn’t say anything about being a cop when I talked to her, but I’ll explain more in a minute. When I mentioned this, Mark expressed surprise that the friend was a woman. Tell Nolan what you said.”