“Courtney’s sister didn’t say that?”
“She never even raised the possibility that her sister could be dead or in any danger. She was surprisingly nonchalant about it. And when I asked her if she’d heard from Courtney, I got a really fast no. She was way too quick to deny it.” Mallory picked up her sandwich. “And when I asked her if anyone else had been around asking about Courtney, she got really nervous. No more eye contact—eyes darting all over the place—watching the street as if she was scared to death.”
“So she was lying.”
Mallory nodded. “I asked her some things I knew the answers to, things about her sister, and her reaction was different. I got straight answers, complete with eye contact.”
“So you think Courtney has contacted her?”
“I do. I think she knows where she and Ryan are hiding.”
“How about the mother—you think she knows, too?”
“Uh-uh.” Mallory shook her head. “Linda Bauer is a total wreck over this. She looks like she’s borderline breakdown.”
“Maybe it’s an act.”
“I don’t think so. I think she’s genuinely sick over her daughter, not knowing if she’s dead or alive. If you’d seen this woman’s face, Charlie, you’d know.”
“I trust your instincts. So why doesn’t the younger sister tell her mother that Courtney is alive and ease her mind?”
“I think it’s because someone else is looking for Courtney—someone who’s approached Misty and scared the shit out of that kid. I think Misty is trying to protect her mother. Like maybe she thinks what her mother doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”
“Because either Mom would go to Courtney and lead the scary someone to her, or Mom would go to the police. Either way, Courtney—maybe all three of them—would be exposed.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. Courtney gets in touch with Misty, tells her she and Ryan are okay but not to tell anyone”—Mallory talked it out—“because maybe Courtney knew this person would be coming around, trying to find out where she was…”
“Which would mean this person knows that Courtney is still alive…”
“…because this person was at the scene and knows that Courtney and Ryan got away that night.” Mallory finished the thought.
“Holy shit.”
“My thoughts exactly.” She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed for a moment. “For the sake of this conversation, let’s assume that we’re right about all this, that this person was at the park at the time of the shooting and saw Courtney and knows that Courtney saw her. Courtney’s disappeared, so this person is looking for her now. Why? Because she wants to make sure that Courtney doesn’t tell anyone what she saw this person do. She knows that Courtney knows who she is. Not just that she can identify her, but that Courtney knows who she is.”
“You keep saying ‘she,’” he noted. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that that’s no slip of the tongue.”
“Okay, this is a stretch, right? I know that,” she told him, her eyes intense, “but follow along with me for a moment, okay?”
“Go on.”
“Supposing Courtney wasn’t on the phone in the back room with a girlfriend the entire time the clerk was shot at Hazel’s. Suppose she was in the store, and maybe ducked down behind a display. Or maybe she was outside but heard the shots and came out of the back room and saw the shooter.”
“Why didn’t the shooter blast her there and then and get it over with?”
“There was a customer in the store who had a cell phone and called 911. Maybe the cops were pulling up out front when Courtney came out of the back and she and the shooter saw each other. So…yes, I know, a lot of conjecture here, but follow me…the shooter has to decide whether to take the time to line up a shot on Courtney or to get out of the store before the cops get closer. She decides to run, but she knows who Courtney is.”
“You’re still saying ‘she’—and how does she know who Courtney is?” “The suspect who was arrested and tried in the Hazel’s Market case was a woman. And she could easily have found out who Courtney was from the newspaper reports.” Mallory took out her phone and used it to access the Internet. She pulled up Magellan Express and entered enough information for the search engine to locate several pages of articles on the shooting at Hazel’s Market in Conroy, Pennsylvania. She skimmed several before reading aloud, “‘Police say that Courtney Bauer, another clerk on duty at the time of the shooting, was in the back room and was not able to provide a description of the gunman.’”
“But if Courtney and the killer had seen each other, it wouldn’t be too hard for the killer to find Courtney…”
“And give her a message she’d remember. Keep your mouth shut or I’ll kill you. Or your family. Any threat would have worked.” Mallory walked through the possibilities with him. “Courtney had already seen this woman kill. She managed to convince the detective who handled the case that she didn’t know a thing so that she wouldn’t even be called at trial as a witness. Her mother told me she spoke to the detective herself and asked that Courtney not be put on the stand since she really wasn’t a witness to anything and the whole thing had upset her.”
“The detective agreed, I take it?”
“He apparently took her name off the list and convinced the DA that she had nothing to contribute.”
“Who was the detective, by the way?” he asked.
“Frank Toricelli.” She pronounced the name as if it were a profanity.
Charlie raised an eyebrow.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He shrugged and turned his attention to the sandwich on the plate in front of him.
“What about Toricelli?” Her eyes narrowed. She knew when someone was being evasive.
“Just that I met him the other day.”
“And…?”
“And he seemed friendly enough.” He met her eyes across the table.
“And…?” Mallory knew there was something more he wasn’t saying.
“And frankly, I got the feeling he was a bit of an asshole. Which may be unfair of me, since I’ve only really had one conversation with him.” Charlie paused for a moment, then said, “Maybe asshole is too strong a word since I don’t really know him. Maybe just say that he didn’t impress me in a favorable way.”
“Asshole is not too strong a word, and you don’t need to get to know him to figure that out.”
Charlie laughed. “Some people just sort of have that aura….”
“Toricelli definitely has the asshole aura.” She rested an elbow on the table.
“Want to tell me about it?”
She thought about it for a minute. “Not really. At least, not now. I was on a roll, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I noticed.” He smiled. “Go on. Get back on it.”
“Right. Okay, so we’re going to say that the shooter from Hazel’s knows that Courtney knows who she is, but she’s kept her mouth shut all these months.”
“Why didn’t the shooter just kill her after the trial so she’d never have to worry about her again?”
“I’ll get to that in a minute.”
“I’d think she’d have found a way to get rid of the witness at some point, but go on. Is there more?”
“You betcha. Fast-forward to the park a few weeks back. Let’s put the kids in their places.” She moved the salt and pepper shakers to the left side of the table. “Here are Adam and Jamey on the swings. Here’s Courtney at the top of the slide, Ryan behind her on the ladder or at its base.” She moved the sugar and sugar substitutes into place.
“Here’s the Dumpster.” The metal napkin holder was placed off to the right side.
She moved her index finger back to the swings. “Here’s the shooter—she robs the two boys at gunpoint, then decides to shoot them right there where they sit. Bang. Bang. One bullet to the back of the head for each of them. She starts to walk away, then looks up to see Courtney at the top of the slide and recognizes h
er, knows she can’t let her get away twice. So she chases her across the playground but can’t find her in the dark. Meanwhile, Ryan has pulled Courtney off the slide and gotten her over the fence behind the Dumpster and they’ve disappeared into the night. The killer follows the news reports, knows that Courtney and Ryan are out there somewhere but they’re in hiding. She figures that sooner or later, Courtney is going to contact someone, so she corners the little sister—maybe she’s there at the house one day when Misty comes home from school while Linda is at work—and tells her to tell Courtney she’d better stay hidden because if she surfaces, she’s dead.”
Charlie whistled softly. “I like it. And damn, but I am impressed. It’s a great theory. Whether or not it’s the right one…I don’t know. There’s a lot we don’t know.”
“Like the name of the suspect and where she’s been for the past year and a half that she hasn’t taken out Courtney?
“Ahhh, but don’t you just love these new phones? Internet access? The universe at your fingertips wherever you go? Damn.” Mallory held up her phone. “Regina Girard, age twenty-five. Immediately after her acquittal on the Hazel’s Market case—the jury said they didn’t have enough evidence to convict her—she was arrested on an outstanding drug case. She was sentenced to eighteen months, which would have been up within the past month. She hadn’t gone after Mallory back then, because she went from the courtroom straight to lockup on the drug charges. But maybe she’s coming after her now.”
“She gets out of prison, starts looking for the one person she knows can finger her for the shooting in the market.” Charlie nodded thoughtfully. “If she’s out, chances are she’s been watching Courtney, looking for an opportunity to take her out.”
“She follows her into the park, sees the guys sitting on the swings, decides to rob them, maybe, just because they’re there, you know?” Mallory was talking it out. “Maybe that part was a crime of opportunity, the robbery part. But I’m thinking that wasn’t what brought her into the park that night.”
“Assuming it was Regina Girard.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Assuming it was. It is hard to believe that this young girl would coincidentally be a witness to two of the most brutal murders in recent Conroy history, but I suppose stranger things have happened.”
“Unlikely, but yeah, stranger things have happened.”
She thought for a moment. “And there’s this, Charlie: If Regina Girard was the playground shooter, she knows that Courtney has seen her kill not once, but three times.”
“Big-time incentive to track Courtney down and make sure she’s taken out of the picture.”
“When you get in on Monday, take a look at Girard’s file.” She sighed. “Damn, but I’d love to see the transcripts from the trial.”
“You could get copies, since the case is closed,” he reminded her.
“I know a lot of people in the courthouse. It might be awkward trying to explain why I’m interested in the case.”
“Joe said you were writing a book on an old case. If anyone asks, you could always say you’re thinking of writing something on the Hazel’s Market case as well,” he suggested. “Or you could let me request it and pick it up. No one knows who I am there.”
“I’d be more comfortable with that, if you don’t mind. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t care, but I don’t want to feel that I have to explain myself to anyone right now.”
“I don’t mind at all. I’d like to take a look at the case myself. Besides, it would give me an excuse to see you again.”
“We’re working the same case. Different angles, but it’s the same case. So you’ll see plenty of me over the next few weeks.”
“I’m counting on that.” He took the check from the passing waitress and said to Mallory, “So here’s the game plan. I’m going to go in on Monday and check out the Hazel’s Market file. If I find anything I think you should see, I’ll make a copy of it. I’ll also see about getting a copy of the trial transcript, and I’ll follow through on the case that put Regina Girard behind bars—see if, in fact, she’s already out. If so, we’ll want to know who her friends are, where she went when she left prison.”
“I might be able to help with that,” she told him. “I have someone downtown who used to give me information. I can see if she’s heard anything, see if she’s still willing to talk to me. I think she will. I always played straight with her.”
“What did you trade?” He turned his wrist to look at his watch.
“Mostly get-out-of-jail-free cards or reduced sentences. A couple of times, cash. She’s a working girl, been at it for a long time, so she has a record.”
“Let me know if she’s not cooperative. We can always arrange to pick her up and bring her in, see if she’s still willing to trade information for her freedom.”
“If it comes to that, I’ll let you know.”
“So, we have our assignments. I’d say we’re set.”
“I’ll see if I can catch up with my CI early tonight, and I’ll let you know if I find out anything useful. Maybe you’ll want to meet her. As I’m sure you know, there’s nothing like a good CI.”
“I’m tied up tonight,” he told her, looking at his watch again, “and probably most of tomorrow, but starting Monday, I’ll be on the job full-time.”
The waitress returned to the table, and he handed her the check with a twenty he’d taken from his wallet.
“What do I owe you?” Mallory asked, reaching for her bag.
“You can get it next time.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She held her bag close to her side, ready to leave. It was apparent that he was anxious to go. Back to the woman she’d heard weeping last night? Mallory immediately wished she hadn’t remembered that.
The waitress handed Charlie his change, and he dropped a few bills on the table for the tip.
“You ready?”
Mallory nodded, feeling dismissed. “Sure.”
Charlie stood and pointed to the door at the end of the aisle. “I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s okay,” she told him. “I want to stop in the ladies’ room before I leave.”
“I’ll be talking to you, then. I’ll be interested in seeing if your CI has any light to shed on any of this.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“You know, all this sounds good, but there’s always the possibility that we’re way off base here.”
“Of course. But you have to start somewhere.”
“That’s exactly what I always say.” He smiled. “Great minds, I guess…”
“Right.” She nodded. “Great minds…”
“Well, I’ll see you.”
“Right. I’ll be in touch.” She turned and walked to the restroom at the back of the building. She really didn’t need to use the facilities as much as she’d suddenly needed to get away from him, to remove herself from his presence. There was something about the way he looked at her, something about the way she felt when he did, that drew her. The reminder that he had something going in his life had felt like a bucket of cold water dumped over her head. He was too attractive, too interesting, too much the same kind of cop she was—had been, she corrected herself—and apparently too much involved with someone else. The ladies’ room was the only refuge she could think of, so she opened the door and went into a small room that was long overdue for an overhaul.
She washed her hands and ran the small brush she always carried with her through her hair. When she was sure he’d be gone, she walked out of the restroom area and through the door. She’d gotten as far as her car, had her hand on the driver’s-side door, when she felt someone behind her.
“Well, now, this is interesting.” Frank Toricelli’s voice was in her ear, his hand clamped onto her shoulder. “I just stopped for a quick bite and who do I see coming out the door but our new man, Charlie Wanamaker. And here you are, just minutes behind him. Some coincidence, eh?”
“Let go of me.” She landed an elbow to his gut, and he grunted.
; “What are you telling the new man, bitch?” His eyes narrowed. “Or is he your new man? Does Joe know? Did you tell him you were—”
“Hey, Frank.” Charlie’s voice came from behind them, and Frank released his grip as he turned around. “I almost forgot, I wanted to ask you about…”
Charlie pretended to be seeing Mallory for the first time.
“Oh, hello,” he said pleasantly, as if addressing a stranger.
Frank looked from Charlie to Mallory and back again.
“You’ve met Mallory Russo.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“No, I haven’t.” Charlie extended his hand. “I know I’ve heard the name somewhere, but I can’t place it.”
“Mallory used to work for the department,” Frank said with obvious suspicion.
“That must be where I heard it.” Charlie smiled and went through the motions of introducing himself. “Charlie Wanamaker. I’m starting on the job on Monday.”
“Oh,” she said with little apparent interest. “Well, good luck with that.”
“Thanks.”
Frank continued to watch their faces. Mallory opened her car door and got in.
“See you around, Frank,” she said as she slammed the door.
Charlie and Frank both stepped back from the car as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she could see them standing there, Charlie talking, Frank’s eyes following her car.
“Wonder all you want, Frank,” she said aloud.
Nicely played, she thought as she took one more look at Charlie in the mirror. Very nicely played.
She was just parking in front of her town house when her phone rang. She checked caller ID and smiled.
“Well done, Detective Wanamaker,” she said.
“What’s with that asshole?” He did not sound amused.
“He saw us coming out of the diner a few minutes apart and put two and two together.”
“Yeah, I figured that. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. But what’s his problem?”
“I’ll tell you about it sometime. In the meantime, thanks for deflecting him. I don’t need any more aggravation from him or anyone else on the force than I already have. And yes, I will tell you the entire story. Suffice it to say, I don’t want him to know I have any interest in Courtney’s case. Sooner or later, it’ll get back to him, but I’d like to keep him in the dark for as long as I can.”
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