Death Stretch

by Ashantay Peters

“What?”

  “I'm sorry for getting you in trouble with Mrs. Crankshaw in third grade.”

  “Katie? What are you talking about?”

  “That we may not get out of here and I want to make it into heaven so I can hang with you. I think my chances are iffy unless I confess.”

  She didn't answer.

  “Ginger?”

  “Shh, listen. It sounds like someone is running away.”

  “Leaving the money behind? That doesn't make sense. He has us trapped.”

  We both stopped speaking. Sure enough, rustling and muffled swearing were audible moving in a direction away from us. A quick crawl had us meeting in heartfelt hugs.

  I retrieved my flashlight, whose batteries were now fit for the surroundings. We struggled to our feet and a barrage of lights hit us square in the eyes.

  “Granville Police. Drop your weapons and raise your hands.”

  Crap. I knew that voice. A silhouetted figure drew closer and I squinted into the light. I knew that swagger too.

  “You ladies want to tell me what you're doing out here?”

  I shaded my eyes with my hands. “Working the graveyard shift, Dirk?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dirk slapped his hands on the table in front of me. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  Ahh—old home week. We were back in the interrogation room he used the last time I got hauled in. I considered having an etched nameplate installed on the hard oak chair my butt filled.

  “I don't believe I heard the question. Could you repeat it?”

  “Don't play with me, Katie. It's two in the morning and I'm not in the mood for tall tales. Tell me what's going on right now or I'll toss you in a cell and forget about you. We pulled in a few female drunks from Johnny's. They'll be happy to keep you company for the next twelve hours.”

  I gulped. Johnny's had a reputation as the skankiest place in town. Day or night, its patrons were not my preferred choice as roommates. Even so, Dirk’s implied threat ticked me off. “Give it up. You can't hold me without charging me, and I didn't do anything wrong.”

  “How about cemetery desecration and trespassing? Enough charges for you? We'll get a statement from the trucker who radioed in Ginger's car after he noticed flashlights in the locked cemetery.” He stressed the word locked, and I barely kept from flinching.

  “Then there are the recent chips in several gravestones that look suspiciously like bullet marks. Our guys found shell casings under some big bushes.” He took a deep breath in a way that convinced me he clung to the end of his hypothetical rope. “And we have a bag full of money.”

  He glared at me. If I hadn't already used the cemetery’s bathroom, his narrowed eyes and pursed lips would've scared the pee out of me. Another true Mrs. Crankshaw moment.

  My answer came out fast and shaky. “The blackmailer threatened Ginger with Rob's life if we told the cops about the pay off.”

  “You think we couldn't find a police woman to make the drop for Ginger? Or couldn’t place the Howes in protective custody? Or quietly surround the cemetery and catch the bastard?” He shoved the bag down the table. “Now the sleaze is gone and we're no closer to the killer.” Dirk paced.

  “You mean Morgan's killer and the blackmailer are the same person?”

  He swiveled. “That's not your business, is it?” He sat and took my hands. “Katie, this isn't a television show or a game. You were shot at and would have been killed if the trucker hadn't noticed Ginger's car and your flashlights.”

  His quiet tone after the outburst made my stomach clench. “We were about to drop the money and leave when the bullets flew. We didn't expect to get shot.” My voice sounded as small as I felt.

  His last sentence finally penetrated and caught my attention. “Hey, did the trucker see another car? The blackmailer had to park somewhere.”

  He hesitated. “No, but we'll go back in a few hours and check for tracks.”

  “Why were you there tonight? Isn't trespassing a routine patrol?”

  “Just because I believe you're both innocent doesn't mean my boss does. I'm alerted if you get a parking ticket.” Dirk pointed his index finger in my face. “Quit stalling. You need to tell me what's going on. Everything.”

  Eating cemetery dirt while shots winged overhead rendered me talkative. My story wouldn't have taken long to tell if Dirk hadn’t interrupted me after every other sentence. When I finished my tale and answered his questions, I sat back exhausted. Dirk didn't look perky, either.

  “I'm letting you go. I doubt we'll get any further tonight.”

  I sat up, happy to avoid Johnny's skanks.

  “We'll place a guard on your house until further notice.” My outraged gasp didn't sway him. “Look, shots were fired tonight. That's attempted murder. Neither you or Ginger will go unguarded on my watch, so get over your snit.”

  He left the room without another word.

  I wanted to know what had happened that made him so protective of women, but didn't think he'd tell me any time soon.

  ****

  Ginger sat at my kitchen table playing with a mug of cooling tea. We decided to tell Rob that Ginger had been with me. If he asked.

  She said he wouldn't miss her, which made me wonder again why she stayed in a bad marriage. I clamped my mouth shut on that topic.

  We were drinking chamomile to decompress. After we got some sleep, Ginger would go home and I'd log a few hours at work. If I didn’t go in, Jim would blow up my computer trying to maintain the workload.

  “What do you think will happen with the blackmailer? Do you think I'll get another note?”

  I could tell she worried Rob could be in danger, and I didn't have answers. “Let Dirk worry about that. If another note comes, you promised to turn it over to him, remember?”

  We sat in near silence. Her wrinkled forehead and periodic sniffling told me all I needed to know about her state of mind.

  She sipped. “We know we aren’t Morgan’s murderers. I wonder if the killer didn't mean to take Morgan’s life. Maybe he or she just wanted to make him sick.”

  I hated to burst Ginger's rose-colored bubble, but I did. “Dirk said the evidence points to premeditated.”

  “Oh.”

  Yep, there wasn't much to say faced with that fact. “I vote for Flash as the perp.”

  Ginger's lips picked up at the corners. “You really don't like her, do you?”

  “Nope.” Exhaustion precluded saying more.

  She pushed her mug away. “I didn't realize Justin and Morgan were business partners.

  “Justin always kissed up to Morgan. From all I've heard, Morgan was the draw. Without him, the studio will probably go under.”

  That tidbit made my ears perk up. “Really? That's too bad.”

  Ginger frowned. “Why's that?”

  “Because Justin is my next favorite choice for killer.” Right after Rob. “Running errands when Morgan died doesn’t rule him out. I wonder, though, if he’s enough of a maniac to leave a poisoned mat laying around for someone else to grab by mistake.” I also wondered why I gave Justin any kind of break. He was right behind Flash on my “people I liked the least” list. No, actually they were in a tie for top position. Good memories kept Rob from that spot.

  Ginger didn’t answer right away. “What if Justin did lace the mat with poison earlier that morning? Then he left on a fake errand so he'd have an alibi.”

  “Are you saying no one else ever touched Morgan's mat or blocks?”

  She nodded a yes. “He stored his equipment separately.”

  “So a class member wouldn’t get Morgan’s mat by mistake?”

  “That's right. You were the only new person at class that morning. Everyone else had their own mat and blocks.”

  “So Justin could have poisoned Morgan’s equipment.”

  “Justin or anyone who arrived early. They left the door unlocked for people who wanted to meditate before class.”

  I snapped my fingers and Ginger's he
ad jerked. “The killer could be Flash after all.”

  Ginger's cheeks got a tinge of color. “Yep.”

  My laptop beckoned. I sipped lukewarm tea as the machine booted up.

  “What are you doing?”

  “A good authority told me you can find anything on the Internet. I figure we should find out how the poison is applied and how long until the dose takes effect.”

  Ginger looked suitably impressed, and within five minutes of start-up, I'd found the information. “Says here, ricin made from castor beans can kill in as little as thirty minutes. No longer than an hour. Causes people to upchuck.”

  She ignored my slang and focused on the meaty information. “Do side-effects depend on body size, fitness or immunity?”

  Not just a pretty face, my BFF. She looked over my shoulder and we scanned articles together.

  She whistled. “Doesn't take much to kill someone. A half an aspirin's worth?” She sat like her knees gave out. “And ricin can be ingested, inhaled or injected? The poison must have been in his mat.”

  I couldn't affirm her idea without giving away that Dirk entrusted me with the same information. Her pale face and shaky voice bothered me.

  “Still bugs me that he looked so peaceful when I walked by him. And even though he vomited, the volume was limited.”

  Ginger grinned. “You never were any good with science.” She rested her chin on her palm. “Not only is each body different, if Morgan absorbed a large amount of ricin, his respiratory distress could have happened faster than the nausea.” She paused and looked thoughtful. “Also, Morgan drank peppermint and ginger based teas exclusively. That herb and spice are used to treat nausea. They may have suppressed the drug-induced side effects.”

  “Was there an earlier class that day?”

  “No. Saturday classes always started with the one we attended.”

  “And you were a regular?”

  Her soft voice shakes again. “Yes. For months.”

  I didn't want to voice my thoughts, but I saw Ginger hopscotch to my conclusion ahead of me. “Someone wanted you to witness his death, maybe get blamed for the murder.”

  Ginger's eyes watered. She wiped them with the back of her sleeve. “But why?”

  “I think someone knew Morgan really wanted to run off with you and didn't like it. Not at all.”

  “No way.” She denied the idea before I finished speaking.

  “Listen. This makes sense.” Too bad Morgan screwed most of the class. Sifting through the potential jealous lovers could take weeks. And worse, the scenario didn't eliminate Rob.

  “Katie, I think that's far-fetched.”

  I looked away because I could see the potential of Rob’s involvement hadn’t escaped her. She needed a diversion.

  “I knew it was Flash!”

  This time Ginger didn't smile. Her thoughtful expression told me she understood someone hated her enough to want her dead.

  I pulled out my stash of chocolate-covered mint cookies and placed one of the cellophane packs in front of her. She didn't say a word but opened the bag and ate each and every cookie.

  ****

  “So Flash and Justin could have worked together to kill Morgan.” I finished my spiel and checked Dirk's face for a reaction.

  I’d stopped by after pushing out the most important work for Jim. On my way home, I decided to lay my ideas out for Dirk. A frown and rapidly tapping fingers didn’t signal the reaction I’d envisioned.

  He leaned across the narrow conference room table as Matt entered. “What part of ‘stay out of this case’ can you not comprehend?”

  Matt dropped a short stack of case files on the table and squeezed my shoulder. “I think you’ve come up with a great theory.” Too bad he didn’t stay to defend me, instead of running from the room.

  Dirk threw a dirty look at his partner's back then turned the glower on me. “I've told you before. You're not a trained detective.”

  “So you won't check out my ideas? I still say both Justin and Flash had opportunity.”

  “We're already checking them out.” He ran a hand through his choppy hair. “No motives. With Morgan gone, Justin is left with a failed investment. Doesn't make good business sense to kill his partner.”

  “Flash has a motive. I've heard she was really pissed Morgan dumped her for Ginger.”

  He sat back in his chair and leaned his head on his hand. “Brandi Wells doesn't strike me as a woman who'd dirty her hands.”

  “If she hired someone, you could still get her for conspiracy to murder, right?”

  His lips quirked. “You really don't like Ms. Wells, do you?”

  Why did people keep asking me that question? “Do you?”

  He tried unsuccessfully to hold back his smile. “I keep my distance from murder suspects. Just a little trick I learned over the years.”

  “So that means I'm not a suspect?” I clapped my hand over my mouth. My high school teachers told me to engage my brain first then speak. Something I’ve never learned.

  Dirk's eyes looked sad. “Sorry, my boss still has a soft spot for your guilt. You didn't happen to go to school with him, or maybe date him, did you? It's almost like he has a vendetta for you.”

  “Funny man.”

  Dirk did his waiting for an answer thing, so I obliged. “What's his name?” I waited until he opened his mouth and then spoke over him. “No, I don't know your boss. Give me a break. Am I that big of a disaster?”

  I hoped his response, unfavorable to the disaster appellation, would go unvoiced. Allen walked in followed by Matt. “We've got a lead on those tracks.” Allen noticed me and halted. “Sorry, I didn’t see Katie with you.”

  Dirk escorted me to the door. “I think we're finished, Ms. Sheridan. Thanks for your insights.” His next sentence was under his breath. “Stay out of this and don't forget to lock your damn door.”

  He turned and addressed the two officers. “So what did you get?”

  Dirk didn't close the door fast enough. Just before it clicked shut I heard, “Mid-sized bike.”

  Crap. Just when I thought Rob couldn't be involved. Parked in Ginger's garage stood a mid-sized Ducati motorcycle. Even though Rob had morphed into super asshole, I hoped he didn't kill Morgan. If only for Ginger's sake.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dirk waited at my door. Tantalizing aromas of hot cheese and sausage wafted from the cardboard box he held.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He pushed the pizza box toward me like a sacrificial offering. “I came to apologize.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Too little, too late, Buster. Besides, it's kind of late.”

  “Just got off work.”

  His exhausted demeanor primed me to nurture him. I got over the urge. My Mama taught me to restrict my mothering to the boys I birthed.

  “I brought ice cream.” He held up a plastic grocery bag jammed with pint-sized containers. I could see the distinctive Ben & Jerry’s covers. If he brought Chunky Monkey, he was in.

  “There's Chunky Monkey, Cinnamon Buns and Cherry Garcia. And another one I can't remember.”

  I grabbed the bag. “I guess you can come in.” Moving down the hall, I finalized my decision. “You can have the Cherry Garcia.”

  The dead bolt clicked home and I felt a bout of warm and fuzzy come over me. I pulled out my two best plates—no chips—and I took the one with a slight crack. A longneck came out of the fridge for Dirk, but I stuck to water. No telling when he'd go into cop mode, and I still hadn't caught up on my sleep.

  “So do you want to chit chat or eat?”

  Dirk's eyes glazed over. “Eat.” He packed away three slices of pizza before coming up for air and a pull at the beer.

  “Feeling better?”

  He leaned forward. “I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I knew you'd leave this case alone. It's screwy. The pieces aren't coming together, and I've got a gut feel the murderer is biding his time.”

  The pizza I’d eaten threatene
d to make a repeat appearance. “What do you mean?”

  He put his hand over mine. “I mean the murderer isn't done. He's after you or Ginger or both of you. I can't figure why, but that’s how it feels to me.”

  His thumb drew lazy circles over my wrist. He lifted his gaze to mine. “I'd hate that, Katie. More than I can say.”

  “Does your boss still have me pegged as the killer?”

  “Not now.”

  “What changed his mind?”

  Dirk shrugged.

  A breath I didn't know I held slipped out between my lips. “Good.” I had to ask, though I didn't expect an answer. “Do you think the blackmailer will send another note?” A more important question surfaced. “Could the blackmailer and murderer be the same person?”

  He hesitated. “You're not a suspect, but I can't discuss anything else with you. I stopped by to apologize, but also because I want you and Ginger to be on your guard. Always. Don't cross the street without looking both ways four times. Keep your doors locked. Be aware of the vehicles around you on the street. All that and more. This isn't over.”

  I shuddered. Dirk grasped my hand. He leaned forward while pulling me toward him and we met in a savory tasting of pizza-flavored lips. Sounds kinda yucky, but boy, oh boy.

  “We're keeping someone outside your house, but the department can't afford that much longer.”

  What Dirk didn't say was that his boss decided I'm not a suspect, so the guard they had on me to prevent flight wasn't needed.

  He wrapped his fingers in my hair. “Enough about the case.”

  His actions in bringing pizza weren't totally altruistic. I decided to confront him before he distracted me. “Dirk, why are you here?”

  “I told you. I'm apologizing for being rude today.”

  “Don't think so.” We leaned back and stared at each other across the table.

  He blew out a breath. “Okay, out with it.”

  Taking a big breath, I jumped in with both feet. “You've made references to women not getting hurt while you're on the job. What happened? Why does this subject eat at you?”

  He chugged some beer and I figured he bought time while deciding what to tell me. It's what I'd do in his place.