Dead of the Day (2007)

by Karen E. Olson

  ''You're still hung up on Sam, aren't you?'' I asked.

  ''Damn straight.''

  ''Jesus, Vinny. What do you think he's into?''

  Vinny put his fork down and looked at me for a few seconds without speaking. Then, ''I'm not sure. I've just got a feeling. It just seemed too convenient that he was there, that he called Lin to be there.''

  My phone rang, startling us. I pulled it out and flipped up the cover. Tom.

  ''Where are you?''

  ''Went to Guilford because we didn't want to wait at the hospital.''

  He was quiet for a second. ''That was a good idea. When can you come to the station?''

  ''We're having some dinner.'' I paused. ''What's going on with Sam?''

  ''He's on leave pending an investigation. Because of the shooting. But it seems pretty clear-cut.''

  To him, maybe. ''So now that Sam's on leave, who's in charge?'' I asked.

  ''Me. The mayor made that decision twenty minutes ago.''

  Tom, as chief of detectives, was now the acting police chief. Marty wasn't going to like that very much— his police reporter the ex-girlfriend of the new acting chief. It looked like my worst nightmare might come true. Marty might give Dick my beat because of a perceived conflict of interest.

  ''We need to talk to you and Vinny,'' Tom said. ''We need your official statements.''

  ''Tom, I'm curious about something.''

  ''What's that?''

  ''Sam. He tells Lin to bring her bees, but I talked to Paula. He didn't invite the feds along, and it's their project. And then, why was he still there after we managed to get off the freighter?''

  Tom didn't say anything for a few seconds, then, ''Jesus, Annie. Do you know what you're saying? Let's just talk when you get here.''

  Tom obviously didn't share our concerns about Sam, didn't see anything wrong with the picture presented him at the dock earlier. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe there was nothing odd about Sam except that he was involved with Rodriguez's old girlfriend. I promised Tom we'd be in as soon as possible and put the phone back in my bag.

  ''I thought you wanted to go to the paper now,'' Vinny said.

  I was quiet.

  ''What's wrong?'' Vinny asked.

  I shrugged. ''Dick. He's probably going to get my job now that Tom's acting chief.'' Damn if it didn't make me feel like shit to say that out loud. It made it more real, and butterflies started gathering in my stomach as I thought about how Marty was going to tell me.

  My phone rang again. Speak of the devil.

  ''Hey, Marty.''

  ''What the hell is going on with you?''

  I found myself telling him everything, keeping my voice monotone and soft so the other diners wouldn't hear. Not that many of them spoke English anyway. When I was done, I heard Marty sigh.

  ''Dick's over at the port. He told me you were involved.''

  ''Yeah, he called me. No one's telling him anything.''

  ''Then you come back here and give it to me, and we'll write it up.''

  I hoped Tom would understand why I wasn't going to show up right away. It wasn't like my story was going to change between now and then anyway, I reasoned with myself.

  ''I'll be right there,'' I said, punching END on my phone. ''Take me to the paper,'' I told Vinny, grabbing my bag and standing up.

  Chapter 39

  When we got there, the visitors' parking lot was blocked off now because of the paving work. I directed Vinny around the back of the building to the employee lot, but half of that was blocked off, too.

  I didn't see any choice but to go through the entrance at the loading dock. It was late, there were no tractor-trailer trucks dropping off anything, so I didn't have to worry about getting hit by one of them, which is sometimes a concern during the day.

  Vinny studied the building warily. ''In there?'' he asked.

  I pointed to the door next to the loading dock. ''I'll be fine,'' I said, getting out of the car.

  I frowned as Vinny got out, too.

  ''This is my turf, Vinny,'' I said. ''I don't need a fucking escort.''

  ''It's dark,'' he tried.

  ''Hell, I can find my way around this building with my eyes closed,'' I snorted, walking toward the steps.

  A cell phone rang. I glanced at my bag, but then saw Vinny put his phone to his ear. He stopped walking, and I heard him say, ''Hey, bro.''

  I waited as Vinny talked to Rocco, but a shadow just ahead made me catch my breath. A cigarette glowed red at the top of the steps. Someone was having a smoke break. As he moved slightly, the parking lot light caught his silhouette. It was Garrett Poore. And he was watching us.

  The guy gave me the creeps. I started wondering again about Rosario Ortiz and his connection to her and her brother. He knew about Lourdes—had to when he hired them. And then I remembered the brown car. His brown Buick that he drove to the church that day I followed him. And the brown car that was seen in my mother's driveway the day her house was broken into.

  Suddenly I wanted Vinny to walk me into the building. But he was still on the phone, and as I waited, Garrett's cigarette fell like a shooting star, disappearing on the concrete as he ground it under his boot. He gave me a short wave and went inside.

  ''Annie, I have to go,'' Vinny said, closing his phone. ''That was Rocco. He locked himself out of his car.'' He snorted. ''Fancy shit car like that; you'd think there'd be some gadget that'd keep you from locking yourself out.''

  ''How can you help?'' I asked, wondering how to keep him here.

  ''I've got a key.'' He held up his keys and jangled them as he looked up at the building, a big, hulking box. ''You're right, you'll be okay.''

  I wasn't so sure now, but Garrett was gone and I was going into familiar territory. It wasn't far to the newsroom. Just to make sure, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911, ready to punch SEND if I needed to.

  ''I'll be back in ten minutes. He's just over at his place at Ninth Square.''

  ''Sure, I'll meet you out front,'' I said, with more bravado than I felt.

  I could see him hesitate, the gentleman in him wanting to protect me, but then he got into the SUV. I sprinted toward the steps and up, turning at the top to wave. He flickered the headlights in response, and I went into the building still clutching my phone.

  I let the door slam shut behind me and walked quickly through the chilly, open space reserved for unloading. I took a right toward the hall that would take me through the back of the building into the front, where the newsroom was.

  The light was dim here, and the presses were running. I could hear their rumble somewhere above me as I stepped up my pace. When I first started at the paper, I used to get a thrill when I stayed late and went upstairs to watch the presses, the newsprint threading through the ink-filled maze. You could see the bright red and black masthead as it ran quickly through the machine on the long sheets of paper.

  Sometimes the paper ripped—we call it a web break—and they'd have to start over.

  I stepped into a room that housed all the rolls of newsprint that were unloaded out back. They were about four feet high and about the same width across, covered in brown paper to keep them from getting dirty. There was a sort of amusement ride out here for them; the rolls were placed on top of little metal flatbeds on a track and moved slowly through the room. I didn't know how the rolls ended up at the press, since it was upstairs, and the track was downstairs. I made a mental note to find out, since somehow that seemed oddly important at the moment.

  I followed one of the rolls on the track, knowing that the roll would eventually go its way and I would go mine toward the newsroom.

  I rubbed at my ears—it was louder here, the press was right overhead—and they popped a little.

  When I felt the hand grip my shoulder from behind, my heart jumped into my throat. ''What the fuck?'' I said loudly. I twisted around to see Sam O'Neill, a lopsided grin on his face.

  ''What's your hurry?'' Sam's words reverberated in my ear. At the same time, his hand s
lid down my arm and wrenched the cell phone from my hand. It fell onto the concrete floor. His other hand had come up like a vise on my shoulder.

  My eyes moved back to where I'd come in, willing Vinny to walk in right then, willing him to have second thoughts about going to help Rocco.

  Sam shook his head. ''He's gone. I watched him leave. Too bad he didn't come in here with you. I was hoping to take care of both of you.''

  I could hear my heart pounding above the presses. He wanted me to be afraid; I could see it in his eyes. I tried to shake off his hand, but he held me tight. I frowned. ''Listen, Sam—'' I started, and that's when I saw the gun that he'd taken out of his waistband.

  ''What's going on?'' I asked. ''Why are you doing this?''

  ''We're going to go for a little ride, you and me.'' Sam leaned even closer, and I felt his hot breath on my neck. It sent a little chill across my shoulders, and I shivered.

  ''What's going on?'' I asked again.

  He shook his head. ''You can't fool me. I know you know. You even made Tom start asking me questions. I had to sing a pretty song for him to shut up. How the hell did you get off that boat, anyway?''

  Sam started pulling me back the way I'd come in, the gun pointed at me the whole time. His hand was steady, his face stony.

  ''So you were in cahoots with Lourdes?'' I asked.

  ''Don't pretend you didn't know.''

  ''Okay, fine,'' I said. ''So you and Lourdes were smuggling those people into New Haven through the port, finding them jobs, giving them fake green cards, and taking their money?''

  He didn't say a word, so I figured I might as well go on.

  ''But what about that guy who washed up in the harbor? Did he get stung by that bee accidentally dur ing the botched trial with the FBI? Was he one of yours?''

  I must have guessed right, since I saw his eye twitch, but he didn't say anything.

  ''And what about Tony Rodriguez? Was he getting too close to your operation with his wife's bees? Is that why he was murdered?''

  Sam stopped, and my knees buckled. My bag slipped off my shoulder and fell to the ground.

  ''I don't know who killed Tony, but it made everything easier,'' he said flatly, then began pulling me along again. I glanced back at my bag on the floor, but he didn't seem to notice.

  I had another thought. ''What about Rosario Ortiz? Was she part of the plan?''

  His face closed down again and he yanked on my arm so hard I thought it would dislocate. I tried to keep up.

  He seemed to respond when I was accusing him of things he didn't do, and he didn't say anything when he'd done them. So I deduced that he did, in fact, kill Rosario, or have her killed and stuffed into my car.

  Which did not bode well for my own future.

  ''Lourdes should've finished you off in that car accident when she had the chance,'' Sam growled.

  ''Lourdes was driving that car that day?'' I asked, surprised.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. ''It's her car,'' he said roughly, before adding, ''You ask too many questions.''

  Which is exactly what Lourdes had said on the freighter, but look what happened to her.

  ''So who broke into my mother's house? Was Lourdes supposed to get the fax? Did I screw that up by showing up so you had to break in later?'' I couldn't stop talking. I needed to keep asking questions or I knew I'd fall apart. ''Why did you want the fax, anyway?''

  He bit his lip. ''We wanted to know who was helping her, who was talking.''

  ''Was Rosario on that list?''

  His eyelids flickered a little, and I knew I was on the right track.

  ''Did you kill Rosario just because of that, or because she was talking to me, too? She didn't tell me shit, you know that. So why did you have to kill her? Did you ambush her at the warehouse? Why did you put her in my car?''

  He grinned, showing off a black tooth off to the side. I hadn't noticed that before. But then, I'd never been this physically close to him. ''It was almost too easy.''

  I ignored the lurch in my stomach. ''You know, it was Hector who went to my mother about the scam. Rosario was just a name on a list.''

  Sam frowned. ''Hector?''

  This was news to him. Which was probably why Hector was still walking around.

  My brain scanned through everything that had happened today, and it landed on one thing. ''What about the cameras at the port? Didn't you realize someone would see us on those monitors at the police station?''

  Sam gave a low growl. ''A couple years ago, three Turkish guys got off a ship over there and no one saw a fucking thing. They disappeared, and no one's seen them since. Let's just say I didn't have any real reason to think anyone would see you.''

  ''But obviously someone did. What about Lourdes? Didn't she know about the monitors? Didn't you tell her?''

  A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, and I saw the truth. He really didn't give a shit whether Lourdes was caught over there.

  ''Who would everyone believe?'' he asked, confirming my thoughts. ''Some crazy woman who's smuggling in illegals? Do you really think anyone would think I was involved in that? I was never there when they came off the ship.''

  ''But you were running things, weren't you?'' I asked. ''You set her up, didn't you? Was it your idea to send her out to my mother's house, and to Lin's house, calling her Lourdes rather than Lucille and trying to get information?''

  ''Lourdes is her name. Those people—they didn't need to know who she really was.'' He snickered. ''She really fooled you that day, didn't she? She was one helluva actress.''

  I remembered how scared she'd looked in my mother's pantry, and I'd bought the whole thing. I wondered, though, about Marisol. This was my chance. ''Did Marisol know what you and Lourdes were up to?''

  Something crossed his face, a softness, and even though it was gone in a second, I could see that he truly cared about Marisol. ''She didn't know. Lourdes worked out of that office at the church. Marisol had nothing to do with it. She took care of the house for them—her and her kid, Lourdes, and Hector. That was her job. That was it.''

  While he was talking, I saw the rolls of paper out of the corner of my eye—this room hadn't seemed so big before—and spotted one of them coming toward us at a snail's pace.

  I swung around as much as I could, bringing Sam with me. I pointed to my bag. ''I dropped it,'' I said, noting that we were standing directly on the track.

  ''Forget about it,'' he said, but at just that moment, I felt something hit me in the back of the calves, causing my knees to cave in, and I went down. I hadn't seen the empty flatbed coming toward me.

  Sam got hit exactly the same way, and he let go of me in his surprise and went down, too. His arm flew up, the gun still in a firm grip, and I rolled away, off the track, in the opposite direction from the gun.

  Sam wasn't so lucky. His foot got caught under the flatbed and he couldn't get it free. ''Fuck, fuck, fuck!'' he shouted.

  I scrambled to my feet and dove behind the nearest roll of paper that wasn't moving just as the gunshot sounded above the rumble of the presses. I wondered if anyone would hear it. Maybe in the press room upstairs, if I was lucky. But it was louder up there; they all wore earplugs. Shit.

  Another gunshot rang out—thank God these rolls were so thick—and I peered out from behind the roll to see that the next flatbed with paper on it had crashed into the one on top of Sam's foot, trapping him further because now he had the weight of all that paper pushing against his foot. I glanced over at the entrance to the loading dock, just about ten feet away, and back at Sam's hand, which was still waving that goddamn gun around. He was sufficiently distracted that he probably wouldn't see me, but if he pulled the trigger again, there was no knowing just where the bullet would end up.

  I had to take my chances and get the hell out of here.

  I made a mad dash toward the loading dock and didn't hear any shots, only a couple more angry fucks. I couldn't be sure he didn't see me at all.

  Chapter 40

  I ran th
rough the cold loading dock again and pushed open the door, stepping outside. I wanted to see the Explorer—I hadn't been inside that long and I knew Vinny had been worried. But it wasn't there, just a few cars parked off to my left.

  I needed to let someone inside know about Sam, but my phone was still on the floor in there.

  I didn't have much time—I didn't want him to get away—so I ran around the building to the visitors' entrance, ignoring the fact that my feet were sinking slightly into the fresh pavement. I pushed open the door and saw that the security guard's booth was closed and locked. Shit. He was off on his rounds somewhere, and I didn't have access to unlock the door and get inside. My card key was in my bag near Sam.