Top of the Hour

by Anina Collins

  The chairs we sat in weren’t much better. Molded plastic like those popular in the sixties and seventies, they were the same dark brown as the rest of the office and incredibly uncomfortable. As we waited for Nash to return to his desk, I leaned over to Alex and whispered as I slid forward on my seat, “Clearly lumbar support wasn’t a big thing when these chairs were in fashion.”

  “They’re more like slip and slide than sit and relax,” he joked as I pushed myself up into an upright position once again.

  Kevin Nash returned to his office and as he sat down behind his desk, he thanked us for coming to see him. A professional dressed in a three piece dark grey suit, he looked to be around fifty years old with tinges of grey at his temples to go along with the crow’s feet next to his eyes. A lean man, he had a long face and thin lips, but he seemed genuine in his sadness over the death of his most popular on-air personality.

  “We’re lost here at WXSN without Lee. The phones have been ringing off the hook with fans asking if he’s really dead since the local news broke the story last night. I still can’t believe anyone would hurt Lee. He was a good guy, one of the few left in this world.”

  Alex jotted down some details about Nash and then asked, “Can you think of anyone who would have wanted him dead?”

  The station manager narrowed his eyes like he was in pain. “You have to understand we loved him here. He had made our ratings soar. For six years, he handled the morning time slot, and once he settled into that political thing he began in 2011, he was golden. People may have said they hated what he had to say, but our advertising department would tell you differently. He brought in a lot of listeners, which in turn brought in a lot of advertisers. But he wasn’t without his haters.”

  “Anyone here at the station?” I asked, getting the sense he was hinting at some interoffice issue he didn’t want to come right out and talk about.

  Nash shook his head and stood up. “No, nothing like that. We’re a family here at WXSN. Outside the station, however, was an entirely different story.”

  He walked over to a cabinet and grunted as he lifted a beige sack from the bottom shelf. Returning to his desk, he deposited it in front of us and pulled open the drawstring at the top of the bag. Inside there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of letters addressed to Lee Reynolds. I peered in and was stunned at how many people had been driven to write to him just from listening to him talk five days a week.

  Alex stretched his neck to look into the bag and then made a note of the letters. “Are these all hate letters?”

  Nash nodded. “Most. Lee did have his fans, but as with most things in life, negative and angry people were more prone to express their opinions than people who enjoyed his show.”

  “This is a lot of angry people, Mr. Nash. Did Lee Reynolds feel like he was in danger?” I asked.

  “No, Lee was a trooper. There were two times he and I felt like a listener might take things to the next level, so I increased security around the station. Neither time anything happened.”

  “Did you report these instances to the police?” Alex asked as he thumbed through the sack of hate mail.

  “No, we never felt like we should bother the police with things like that. Nobody ever came around and threatened him in person. I really can’t believe any of his listeners did this to him. I just can’t.”

  Looking up from the letters, Alex raised his eyebrows in surprise at Nash’s comment. “Really? He said some pretty controversial things on his show. Things that upset people, if these letters are any indication.”

  Nash sat back down in his leather chair folded his arms across his chest. “I know, and I guess it would be the easy answer to who killed him, but you have to understand how this job works. A personality like Lee says things to get people talking, but they’re just cowards who get all worked up by the stuff he says on his show and then dash off some poison pen letter full of bluster but nothing else.”

  Standing from his chair, Alex said to him, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at Lee’s office. I’ll have someone from the station come by and get these letters too and we’ll see if we can find out if any of these people may have taken the next step.”

  Nodding, Nash agreed. “I’ll show you both to his office at the end of the hall.”

  As we walked there, I asked him a question that had been on my mind the entire time we sat talking to him. “Mr. Nash, did Lee have any problems outside of work that you know of?”

  I intentionally made my question vague in the hopes that he’d feel comfortable mentioning anything that jumped into his mind, but he merely shook his head and answered, “Lee had a great life. He and his wife were happy and I know they wanted to start a family soon. He had success at work and at home. I can’t think of one area of his life that wasn’t better than it had ever been before.”

  We stopped in front of Lee’s office and Kevin Nash unlocked the door. I walked in, but Alex stopped and said, “His wife said he often worked late on Thursdays. Can you tell me if you remember that being the case?”

  Nash thought for a moment and frowned. “I haven’t seen Lee past two or three in the afternoon in ages. It has to be at least six months since I’ve seen him in his office at that time of day. If there’s anything else I can do to help, please let me know.”

  He walked away leaving Alex and me in Lee Reynolds’ office. After a quick call to the police station to tell Craig he needed him to come by and get the sack of hate mail, Alex joined me at Lee’s very neat and very bare desk.

  “Notice anything missing?” I asked, sure what was not on the desk was an important clue.

  Alex scanned the top of the desk and shrugged. “He was a DJ. Maybe he didn’t have a laptop.”

  “Let me go ask the station manager. I’ll be right back.”

  I caught Kevin Nash on the way back to his office and asked about Lee having a laptop or even a desktop computer. He confirmed my suspicion that he had possessed a computer—a laptop—and he also said it was only for Lee’s use.

  I ran back to where Alex stood in the office already searching through Lee’s desk. “His laptop is missing. I knew it. It’s a rare person who doesn’t have a laptop or tablet these days.”

  Alex looked up at me and knitted his brows. “So both his laptop and cell phone are missing. Interesting.”

  “I’m going to call Jessica to ask if the laptop is there.”

  Before I could dial her number, Alex pulled out a box with a pink bow tied around it from the back of the bottom drawer in Lee’s desk. I had a feeling I knew what was in that box. He untied the bow, and with a pen held up a pair of fire engine red silk panties.

  Panties that clearly wouldn’t fit Lee’s rather shapely young wife.

  “The plot thickens,” Alex said with a grin only a man would have on his face after finding silk panties like those dangling from the end of his pen.

  “I’m definitely not getting a Jessica Reynolds vibe from those. They look like something a Cherise would wear.”

  I reached out to pick up the box, but Alex stopped me. “Watch. You’re not wearing gloves.”

  “Fine. Turn over the box so I can see the lid then.”

  He did as I said and there on the top of the box where the bow had been were the words Sweet Nothings. Looking to me like I would know, he asked, “Is this the name brand of the lingerie?”

  Not in a big hurry to discuss how often I’d visited the Sweet Nothings store in the past, I shook my head and merely said, “Nope. It’s a boutique right here in Sunset Ridge.”

  Alex chuckled. “This town never ceases to amaze me, and for once, it’s not in a bad way this time.”

  Blushing a little, I said quietly, “Sweet Nothings is about half a block away from the Hotel Piermont.”

  Not even trying to hide his amusement, he threw his head back and laughed. “It really is all about location, location, location, isn’t it?”

  “Ha ha. Just bag the panties and the box and let’s finish up here.” />
  As he did that, I slipped on gloves and looked through the drawers on the other side of Lee’s desk to find the usual items people kept at work. Paper clips, pens, staples, mints, a pack of chewing gum. Then in the last drawer I checked I found a day planner. Thumbing through it, I saw Lee Reynolds hadn’t written much in it after the first week of January and a few notes about some political scandal that had been in the news earlier that year but had faded from public interest by spring.

  “Find anything in that?” Alex asked.

  “No. My guess is he’s like many people and has his numbers and stuff on his phone.”

  Alex rose from Lee’s chair and pushed it back under the desk. “I don’t expect to find his phone if the murderer took it. I contacted the phone company this morning to get the LUDs and told them to keep the phone on just in case whoever took it makes the mistake of using it. Hopefully, our murderer is stupid, but I’m not counting on it.”

  I looked around Lee’s office and saw nothing else for us to investigate. That meant we were off to check out those panties he’d had hidden.

  “Looks like we need to visit Sweet Nothings. You up for a visit to the sexiest lingerie shop in town?”

  He winked at me and smiled. “Since you’re obviously the one who knows all about this store, lead the way.”

  The Sweet Nothings shop was a place that was simultaneously sweet and sexy, naughty and nice. Decorated in the softest shade of pink I’d ever seen, it also had dashes of black and red scattered around in the lace bows that hung from the ceiling above patrons’ heads. The owner had thought she was staying subtle with the look of the store, but in reality, only a blind person wouldn’t know as soon as they stepped through the front door what Sweet Nothings offered.

  Racks of sexy lingerie dotted the space, along with shelves of panties, bras, and garter belts lining the walls. Behind the register sat bottles of colorful gels and lotions for lovers who liked to spice up their bedtime pleasures.

  I’d been to the store a number of times in the past, even though I hadn’t gone there for at least a year. As Alex and I walked up to the front door, I wondered if Stacy would remember me. The owner who worked the register nearly every hour the place was open, she must have seen hundreds of people since the last time I was there, I assumed, so I didn’t worry about her recognizing me.

  And then the bell on the front door rang as it closed behind us and I saw Stacy’s blue eyes light up as she did exactly what I hadn’t worried about just a minute before.

  “Poppy McGuire! It’s been too long since we saw you in here. Let me get your card.”

  She hurried to get her pink plastic index card box and spun around on her heels to meet us at the register as I scrambled to correct her assumption of why I was there. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex smile and raise his eyebrows like her knowing me intrigued him.

  “No, no, it’s okay. We’re here on police business, Stacy. We just need to ask you a few questions about a gift connected to one of our cases.”

  Stacy stopped thumbing through the box full of cards and looked up at me. An attractive woman with long brown hair that fell seductively around her face, she was in her late thirties and always had a flirty way about her. I watched as her gaze shifted from my face to Alex’s and knew she hadn’t changed since my last visit to her shop.

  “Who are we? Please introduce me, Poppy,” she purred as she extended her hand to shake Alex’s.

  I turned to see him giving her his best smile and introduced them. By the time I’d said their names, Stacy had all but forgotten I was even in the store. She batted her long eyelashes as Alex changed into work mode and began to ask her questions about the panties we’d found in Lee Reynolds’ desk drawer.

  Holding the bag that contained the store’s box and the red silk panties, he asked, “Can you tell us who bought this item and when?”

  “I’d have to get my hands on them, Alex, but they look like they’re from my store,” she said in sugary sweet voice.

  He looked at me and then back at Stacy before he grabbed a pen from the counter and lifted the panties from the clear baggie. Holding them up by one of the leg holes, the panties slid down the pen until they were hanging by the crotch and he asked, “Better?”

  Stacy’s nostrils flared as she took a deep breath in. She leaned forward to look at the tag on the panties and then began flipping through the cards in her box. After just a few seconds, she looked up and smiled at him.

  “Three pairs of those exact panties were sold in the past month.”

  “To whom?”

  In her best coquette voice, Stacy answered, “My customers rely on my discretion, officer. I don’t think I can betray that.”

  With a hint of frustration in his voice signaling his patience was already running low, Alex said, “There’s no customer-lingerie store owner privilege, so I’m going to need you to tell us who bought those panties, Stacy.”

  I had a sense that Alex’s no-nonsense way wasn’t going to work with the flirty Stacy, who obviously saw this to and fro game as some kind of foreplay between them. Hoping to move things along, I asked, “Maybe if we attack this from another angle that would work. Stacy, did you sell these to Lee Reynolds recently?”

  At the mention of our victim’s name, Stacy’s playfulness faded away, replaced by a far more serious attitude. “Yes. I can tell you that since that poor man was killed last night.”

  “Was Lee a regular customer of yours or were his purchases a recent thing?” I asked.

  Stacy nodded as a frown settled into her features. “I sold him some very nice panties in the last two years. At first they were much bigger panties, but then his wife lost weight so they became smaller, sexier items in the past few months. He had great taste, though, and he was a wonderful customer. I was sorry to hear on the radio this morning that he’d been killed.”

  Now that Stacy was answering questions, Alex joined me in asking her some. “Did he ever came in with anyone or was he always alone?”

  “Always alone. He told me he wanted the gifts to be surprises for his wife.”

  A customer entered the store and Stacy turned her attention to her. We thanked her for her help and turned to leave. I was happy that the questioning had gone as well as it did, giving us something to go on now.

  On our way out, Alex stopped in front of a rack of baby dolls and winked at me. I didn’t say anything, but as my cheeks warmed from blushing, I had to admit he had great taste in sexy lingerie.

  Chapter Three

  A Friday night in early October at McGuire’s meant a bar full of customers and nearly half the tables filled as baseball began its divisional playoffs. My father called me in to help out his bartender when he saw the place filling up by six o’clock, and even though I wished I had something exciting to do on a Friday night, I didn’t so I happily agreed to help out behind the bar. At least I was out of the house and not stuck inside my head thinking about Alex and that look he gave me as we walked past that rack of baby dolls.

  My father’s usual baseball buddies took up all the spaces at the bar, and no one could say any of them came to just watch the game. The bartender Kitty and I bounced from one empty glass to another for the first few innings while my father helped out with the tables in the back, even though I told him I would have gladly switched places. He wasn’t a recovering alcoholic but someone who knew all too well his limits, so I assumed that was why he had me filling his friends’ glasses instead of running tables.

  Although I wasn’t watching the game, I knew by the way the drinks were going down even faster by the fifth inning that whatever was happening at the stadium wasn’t riveting baseball. A few of the men at my end of the bar began to loudly complain about the game being a rout for the Sox, unhappy that the team they loved to hate had surged ahead.

  My father eased behind me to grab a couple bottles of beer and tapped me on the shoulder. “Everything okay up here? I thought I heard the natives getting restless.”

  His
friend John, a man in his late fifties who spent too much time at the bar for his wife’s happiness, overheard his comment and answered for me. “She’s fine, Joe. Your Poppy runs this place like a well-oiled machine. You could go away on that vacation you’re always threatening to take and come back to McGuire’s just like you left it.”

  I had to smile. John had been friends with my father since I was a baby, and he probably knew him better than anyone else, besides me and his friend Albert.

  Dropping a wooden chip in front of his spot on the bar, I smiled. “For that, you get a free drink. Flattery works on this girl.”

  John bowed his head to thank me, and my father rolled his eyes. “I’m curious, honey. How can you be so comfortable around these guys but you can’t figure out how to make a move on that friend of yours?”

  My mouth dropped open wide in shock that he’d said that in front of all those strangers. Well, they were practically strangers, and even if they weren’t, they didn’t need to know about my personal life.

  Narrowing my eyes to angry squints, I groaned as he passed me on his way back to his tables. My father had clearly decided he wanted to play cupid. I hated to tell him, but he was going to be disappointed. Alex still technically was dating Bethany, even if they saw each other infrequently, and he seemed more disinterested lately than anything else. The other problem was I just wasn’t sure endangering the good thing we had in our work partnership for anything more was a good idea.

  I knew my father, though. If he’d gotten it into his head that there was something there between us, he wasn’t going to let it go.

  Best to avoid him to keep the romance chatter to a minimum. Hatching a plan to do just that, I grabbed the tray out of his hand when he returned to behind the bar and quickly told him, “Time to switch jobs. I’ll handle the tables for a while, Dad.”

  I got away from him before he could protest my decision and found an empty table in the very back of the bar to rest my feet for a few minutes. From there, I could get a little break and keep my father from wanting to discuss the details of my personal life in front of the rest of his customers.