The receptionist looked up from her computer when Kelsey approached her desk.
“May I help you?” she asked in a soft voice.
“I’m supposed to see Maggie Starr.” She glanced at the nameplate on the desk. Shawna Patterson.
Her face crinkled in a smile. “You must be Kelsey Allen. I’ll let Ms. Starr know you’re here.”
“Thank you, Shawna.” While Kelsey waited, she glanced around the penthouse office. Even though they had lunch together sometimes, she’d never been to Maggie’s office. A few expensive drawings hung over the custom-made furniture. The effect was an understated yet elegant feel to the room that reflected Maggie’s high standing as a defense attorney.
Kelsey’s mom had been friends with Maggie first, after meeting her at a Keep Memphis Beautiful meeting, then Sam became a friend and eventually Kelsey. Over the years she’d pieced together the story of how the attorney’s brother had been wrongly convicted of a crime and had died in prison. It was why Maggie chose law as her career. Kelsey turned as muted footsteps neared and then Maggie appeared at the door.
“Kelsey, come on back to my office.” She led the way to another room just as tastefully decorated as the reception area with a beautiful oak desk in the center. After they were both seated, Maggie said, “I hope the rest of your day went better than the first half.”
“It was certainly interesting.” She explained about the remains that had been delivered to the museum and the time spent with Detective Rachel Sloan. Kelsey couldn’t believe what a turnaround that had been. Of course, it could change if real evidence surfaced pointing toward Kelsey. “I don’t believe Rachel considers me a suspect.”
Maggie raised her eyebrows. “So it’s Rachel now?”
Kelsey hadn’t noticed how easily her mind had gone from Detective Sloan to Rachel. “I think we both have a better understanding of where we’re coming from.”
“And where is that?”
“She feels she always has to prove herself, and I know how she feels. One of the reasons I didn’t pursue a career in computer programming was the resistance I met in college. It was a male-dominated field, and I got tired of trying to prove I belonged there.”
“Maybe that’s why you became the Phantom Hawk,” Maggie said.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on, you describe yourself as a white-hat hacker. It’s a way to thumb your nose at the community that put you down, but in a way that benefits someone else.”
She’d never thought of herself that way. It had always been about the challenge, but she couldn’t say she didn’t enjoy besting the people she hacked. Who, as she thought about it, had all been male. Kelsey crossed her arms. “How much longer did it take you to get to where you are than your male counterparts?”
Maggie’s answer was a shrug. “I don’t waste my energy railing against the system. I’d rather change it by being the best I can be, and because I’m good, the women studying law now will have an easier walk.”
She placed a notepad on her desk. “You said resistance was one of the reasons you didn’t pursue programming. What are the others? Why did you become a conservator? It’s the polar opposite from computer technology.”
It was odd even to Kelsey that she was drawn to such diverse fields. “I do love preserving art and other antiquities, and it was what my parents wanted me to do. They’ve always been into archaeology, and in fact that’s how they met,” she said. “Art won out when I received a scholarship to the Conservation Center at New York University.”
“Your mom told me about that when it happened.”
“Funny thing, though. It was there that I became interested in white-hat hackers, and the seed of starting my own security company was planted.”
“And here you are.”
“Yes, here I am.” Kelsey stood and walked to the window and looked out over the powerful Mississippi River. Red channel markers bobbed against the current, and a tugboat chugged upstream.
“If I’d gone to the police Thursday night, Mr. Rutherford might not be dead,” she said softly and turned around. “I want to tell Rachel what happened. Can we move tomorrow morning’s meeting to now?”
“We can, but let’s go over a few things first.” Maggie made notes in the tablet and then leaned back. “You didn’t really see anything other than the person was a man. You can’t identify him, so your information will not help to arrest him.”
“But it’ll give the police a timeline.”
She made a few more notes. “There is that. Do you know who’s handling the Hendrix case? We probably need to include that person as well.”
“The detective who first covered Mr. Rutherford’s death. Reggie Lane.”
Maggie leaned forward and scrolled through her contacts. “I have his cell,” she said and tapped on the number. When he answered, she identified herself and asked if he could drop by her office. “I have information on the Hendrix murder that might help you.” Then she disconnected and made the same call to Rachel Sloan. After she disconnected, she turned to Kelsey. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
20
IN HIS OFFICE, Brad glanced at the photo of Tripod catching a Frisbee that hung on the wall opposite his desk. He really needed to get home early and exercise the dog.
A text dinged and he checked it. Eddie from the motorcycle division. Kelsey had made it to Maggie Starr’s office. He thanked him and glanced at the photo again. If Sam Allen didn’t arrange for a bodyguard for Kelsey, he might have to apologize to his dog. He couldn’t let her drive home without some sort of protection.
Brad picked up the list of artifacts that were missing after Paul Carter disappeared. He’d checked with an antique collector about the artifacts and learned that while each one was unique, the items were not worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, as he had supposed. They were priceless because they were not for sale and therefore couldn’t be bought.
He propped his feet on his desk and leaned back in his chair, his tented fingers against his pursed lips. The way he saw it, each item was stolen because Carter couldn’t buy it and one like it wasn’t for sale, actually couldn’t be for sale. Like the shrunken head—even if there was one for sale somewhere, it wouldn’t be the one from the Pink Palace.
That’s it! Carter wanted something no one else had. And that was what had made the artifacts valuable to him. He put his feet on the floor and sat up straight. But why would Carter steal them? He had access to them every day. And if Carter stole them, why did artifacts still go missing after he left? Unless he had returned to Memphis. Things about this case did not add up.
He looked up as Reggie stuck his head in the door. “What’s up?”
“Remember Maggie Starr?” Reggie asked.
“Yeah. I was with her earlier today. What about her?”
“She has information about the Hendrix murder. I’m on my way over there now, but I thought I’d see what you could tell me about her. Only time I ever met the lady, she grilled me pretty good.”
“Yeah, she’s a bulldog in the courtroom, not so much out of it, though. Just play it straight with her and you won’t have any problems.” Brad glanced at his cleared desk and back at Reggie. “I’m done here for the day. Why don’t I tag along?”
“It’s always good to have backup when you go into the lion’s den.”
Brad grabbed his laptop. “I’ll follow you. Should be plenty of parking spaces in their lot by now.”
As they rode the elevator to the twelfth floor in Maggie’s building, Brad said, “How’s it going with Treece?”
A broad grin spread across Reggie’s face. “Great, now that your sister has calmed down a little. We don’t argue nearly as much.”
“Will has been a good influence on Andi.”
“Have they set a date?”
“No. I think they’re taking it slow. Andi is still dealing with the aftereffects of taking the pain medication for her back. How about you? I saw that ring you gave Treece. Nice.�
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“We’re working on it. Can’t get her to set a date, though. We still argue over her quitting the job at WLTZ, or at least moving into something besides investigative reporting. Some of the stuff she sees really gets to her.”
“I know. Some of it rivals what we see. Just don’t give her an ultimatum.” The elevator opened and they stepped into the hallway. “It’s this way,” Brad said.
The receptionist showed them to Maggie’s office and opened the door. Brad followed Reggie and stopped short when he saw Kelsey. She seemed surprised to see him.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” she said.
“Gentlemen, have a seat,” Maggie said, nodding to the two wingback chairs across from her desk. “Kelsey, do you have any objections to Brad being here?”
For a second she looked as though she might, then she shook her head. “It’s probably better this way.”
Brad took the seat closest to Kelsey as another soft knock sounded at the door and Rachel Sloan entered the office. What did Kelsey mean by it being better this way? What was going on?
Rachel took a seat, and Maggie leaned forward. “Kelsey reported something to me that we feel you all should know regarding the Hendrix murder. I want you to know she did not have to come forward with this information, but she felt justice would be better served if she did.”
“I’m listening,” Rachel said and Reggie nodded.
Brad wasn’t certain he wanted to hear what Kelsey had to say.
Maggie turned to Kelsey. “Why don’t you tell them what happened Thursday night?”
She lifted her chin and slipped him a guarded look before she turned to focus on Rachel. “Last Thursday night I lowered myself down the side of the building where Turner Accounting has offices and entered through an unlocked window. After I left my card, I climbed out the window and returned the same way I came down—by way of an electric winch—which by the way, is why I knew that photo had been doctored. On the eleventh floor, I noticed a lamp on in an office. It hadn’t been on when I went down. I saw a man’s silhouette, and evidently he saw me.”
Winch? Was she admitting she was a cat burglar? The Phantom Hawk?
“How do you know he saw you?” Reggie said.
“He raised the window and fired several shots. He—”
“And no one heard and reported the gunfire?” Rachel’s voice was skeptical.
“He used a silencer. Just like today.” Color rose in Kelsey’s cheeks, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “And even though a silencer doesn’t completely muffle the sound of gunfire, no one would have heard the shots coming from the eleventh floor. One of the bullets should be embedded in the concrete, or there should at least be a chip.”
Rachel sat forward. “And you didn’t see the man’s face?”
“No.”
“How did you get to the roof?” Brad asked. Even to his own ears, he sounded harsh. But she’d lied to him . . . or at least hadn’t told him the truth, and he’d given her plenty of opportunity.
“I don’t get it. Three hours ago you were accusing me of being the Phantom Hawk, and now you don’t believe me. Why don’t I just show you . . . people?”
He figured she was about to call them something unflattering, like bozos, when she caught herself. Instead she turned to Maggie.
“Would that be all right?” she asked. “Can we take a trip to the building in question?”
“It might settle things quicker, and I’d like to see how you accomplished it myself,” her attorney replied, then addressed the three detectives. “What do you think?”
“I’m game,” Rachel said, and Reggie echoed her sentiment as everyone stood.
Brad was ready as well. It was one thing to think this slender, five-five woman with the spiked hair was a cat burglar, and another to hear her admit it.
Kelsey grabbed the backpack from her car, and they all walked to the Allen Auto Parts building. In the elevator, she punched the button for the thirteenth floor. “We have to walk up one flight.”
Once they exited through the service door on the roof, they followed her to the adjoining building, where she took a small, motorized winch with a hook on the end from the backpack and walked to the edge of the roof. “This is where I attached the winch,” she said, pointing to a metal pipe anchored a foot from the ledge.
Rays from the afternoon sun popped sweat across Brad’s forehead. Fresh markings that matched the size of the hook verified her words. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, she was indeed the cat burglar.
“After I secured the winch I went over the side and down to the eighth floor. It was when I came up that I noticed a light was on in an office that hadn’t been on when I went down.”
The three detectives knelt at the edge of the roof. Again there were markings on the concrete.
“That’s where the cable rubbed. And right there is where the bullet ricocheted,” she said, pointing at a gouge in the concrete. Vindication echoed in her voice.
After Rachel took photos of the edge of the building, Reggie and Brad took a couple. “Did the Crime Scene Unit process the roof?” he asked.
“No. Didn’t know they needed to.” Reggie peered over the side of the building and shuddered. “She has more guts than I do.”
Visualizing Kelsey dangling fourteen stories above the street was hard to imagine, but if it were true, and it seemed to be, she’d outsmarted some of the best security specialists in Memphis.
She was also on the wrong side of the law.
21
KELSEY’S STEPS WERE TROUBLED as they walked back to Maggie’s office. While she’d stood at the edge of the building looking down, she remembered seeing a white flash before the man fired at her. Only today, it was more than a flash . . . more like a face. But the image didn’t hang around long enough for her to make out any features—if it was real. She still wasn’t sure.
Once they were settled in Maggie’s office again, Reggie took out a notepad. “So you say this happened around ten thirty?”
Kelsey nodded. This was the second time he’d asked a variation of this question. She still had no indication of whether either of them would arrest her or not. “I remember checking my watch before I went down, and it was ten. When I came out the front door of Allen Auto Parts, the barbecue cook-off hadn’t shut down yet, and they close at eleven.”
“Can you describe the man you saw?” Brad asked.
“There was a light right behind him, and I only saw his silhouette.” She hesitated, not sure if she wanted to mention the image. “Except maybe for half a second. There was a flash of light, but it was gone so quickly, I’m not even sure it was real.” She shook her head. “No, the light was real, but it lasted such a brief time, I’m not sure what I saw.”
“You don’t remember his face at all?” Rachel asked.
She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against them. “No. I’m sure I saw it, but when I try to bring it up, all I see is his silhouette.”
Reggie looked up from his notes. “Did you hear any gunshots before he fired at you? Or see anyone else?”
The questions were coming faster than she could answer. “No,” she said sharply, “and I didn’t see Mr. Hendrix, if that’s what you’re thinking. I figure the murderer had already killed him and disposed of the body, or he would have run instead of taking shots at me.”
“I think that’s enough for now,” Maggie said. “Except, I don’t think she’s mentioned this, but Walter Rutherford hired her to test the security in all his buildings, not just the Pink Palace, so Kelsey was doing nothing illegal.”
“Why didn’t you say so before?” Reggie said.
“I thought I did,” Kelsey said.
Brad shook his head. “Why didn’t you reveal what you’ve told us Saturday night?”
“Partly because I was in shock. And I wanted to do the job Mr. Rutherford hired me to do, so I didn’t want to compromise my cover. I would appreciate it if this wasn’t made public.” Kelsey stood and walked to
the window. It was hard to explain her state of mind then. She squared her shoulders and turned around. “But the main reason I didn’t was that I had no idea if he had told anyone else he’d hired me for the jobs I did as the Phantom Hawk. Jackson wasn’t aware of it. I . . . I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.”
She said this last to Brad. She couldn’t understand why it was so important that he believed her now.
“I can understand that,” he said. “But it would have made everything much simpler if you had just told the truth.”
She snorted. “You would have believed me?”
He pinned her with a solemn stare. “We’ll never know now.”
Fine. If he wanted to be that way, there was nothing she could do about it. Kelsey turned to Rachel. “Did you get the bones to Dr. Caldwell?”
“Yes, and he said you were welcome to sit in.” Rachel stood and moved toward the door. “Do you know who’s taking over for Mr. Rutherford?”
“Jackson King. He was his partner.”
“Thanks,” the detective said. “I’ll touch base with him tomorrow.”
“Rachel, wait and I’ll walk out with you,” Reggie said and stood. “I wish we could provide security for you, Kelsey, but we don’t have the manpower.”
“Her father is providing a bodyguard as soon as he can arrange it,” Maggie said.
Reggie turned to Brad. “You going with us?”
“No, I need to ask Kelsey a couple of questions.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
As soon as Reggie and Rachel left, she realized she’d never thanked Brad for the motorcycle officer who had shadowed her. “By the way, thanks for the escort.”
“I wish I could do more,” he said.
At least he didn’t still sound angry. “I hate that I have to have a bodyguard.”
“If it were me,” Maggie said, “I’d feel better knowing someone had my back.”
“Why don’t you want someone protecting you?”
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