Chapter 16
It took all of Grant’s self-control not to grin like an idiot when Seraphina stepped off the sidewalk in front of her apartment and slid into the passenger seat. Her dress matched the royal blue paint of the BMW near perfect. As he navigated the city streets and interstates, Seraphina rode silently beside him. Her hands were demure in her lap, her gaze held by scenery flashing by the window.
Once he picked up I-40 East and set the cruise control, she turned to face him. “So, what’s this really about?”
She had no idea he had any connection to Oliver, and Grant wasn’t ready to reveal that secret. He cursed himself a coward. He wanted backup when Seraphina learned the truth. “Tanbee House. We’re going to meet someone who can shed some light on a few of the mysteries we’ve unearthed. I’ll say no more than that.”
Her lips were pressed together. The amusement he’d caught in her eyes as she’d folded herself into the car disappeared behind a cautious, intent stare. “I shouldn’t go anywhere with you.” Her voice was grave and resigned, as if she never had any choice in the matter. She said no more but turned back to the window.
Grant didn’t reply because he didn’t know what he could say. He hoped Oliver would.
Holland Bottoms State Wildlife Management Area was a well-known area a little more than half an hour from central Little Rock, just on the other side of Jacksonville. It was hemmed in on the western side by Pickthorne Lake, a popular fishing destination, and the Southern Oaks Country Club. The lake had gathered a good crowd for a late Saturday morning. Boats were on the water. Several cars were parked in the lot. Grant drove a slow, fruitless circuit of the parking area, searching for evidence of Oliver, to no avail. Oliver would have to find them.
He parked and met Seraphina’s dubious glare. “This isn’t much of a picnic area,” she noted.
“Oh, I have no intention of having a picnic here. But this is—”
A rap of knuckles across the window at her back made Seraphina jump. Oliver bent down and grinned at them, then waved for them to step outside. Seraphina met Grant’s eyes in one quick, shocked moment before she angrily shoved the door open without a word.
Oliver greeted her stony veneer with a friendly hug. “There it is! The face I expected. Good to know I’ve still got a knack for reading people. Just wait. You don’t even know why you’re pissed off yet.” He swung to Grant as he walked around the car, offering his hand.
Grant shook it with a frown. “There are better places to meet.”
Oliver shrugged. He gave the area a quick, disinterested perusal. “We’re out of town, not somewhere you’d expect to be found, or be likely to run into anyone you know. I followed you to make sure you weren’t followed, so we’re good to go. This’ll be quick.”
Before he could ask, Seraphina yanked the strap of her purse off her arm, rooted inside, and retrieved a white glossy envelope. She held it aloft as if deciding whether she’d prefer to keep the evidence. Her gaze was sharp and biting, pivoting between Oliver and himself. Grant parked his hands on his hips and glared at Oliver with raised eyebrows. The detective could sort out his own mess.
Oliver scratched the back of his neck, mimicked Grant’s stance, and gave Seraphina an apologetic glance beneath his lashes. He seemed genuinely contrite. “Yeah. About that. A team is moving on Brendan right now. He’s being taken into custody, based on the circumstantial clues that earned us the search warrant. If we don’t find anything, we can’t hold him. It’s a risk, but Cappy Don—that’s my captain,” he explained in a quick aside to Grant, “decided we might give him time to move evidence if we waited.”
Seraphina’s glare held steady. “Go on.”
Oliver cleared his throat. “Grant. The city. The historical society.” He paused, giving the implications time to soak in. “All of them were in on the sting. And you, Seraphina, are the steadfast mare we hitched our wagons to. Sorry for the terrible metaphor.”
She didn’t flinch. Her eyes didn’t seek Grant, and he wondered if it was a good sign or a bad one. Grant gave Oliver an accusing stare as he spoke to Seraphina. “I was told we’d make Brendan suspicious if you and I were seen too often with our heads bent together, or if I accompanied you on your searches of Tanbee House.”
She ignored Grant completely, her sights firmly set on Oliver. “Hitched your wagons to. Explain that a little better, Oli.”
Oliver grimaced. “You know I hate that name.”
“Yes.”
Her simple reply didn’t invite rejoinder. Oliver gusted out a sigh. “You were maneuvered. A little bit. We knew you were taking a position with Gallagher Interiors, and we knew if we could get Grant’s firm to move their latest project to the stash house Brendan used, we could draw him in. We had to get the governor on board, include certain members of the planning commission—”
“Oliver Pierce. I do not give a shit how elaborate and conniving your sting was, nor how painstakingly you pieced it together. What I wish to know is to what extent I was used and lied to, so that I may decide what I will do about it. Seems to me I could’ve been easily included. You can trust Grant, you can trust a hundred city employees, and yet I was kept in the dark.”
“No, you weren’t,” Grant cut in. Finally, Seraphina’s burning stare came his way. For a second, he regretted drawing attention to himself. Then he decided he didn’t. If they hashed it out now, the bone of contention couldn’t come back to haunt them later. “The only thing you didn’t know about was me, and even as I argued with both Oliver and Ophelia, I can’t fault their decision. You didn’t trust me, Seraphina. Maybe you still don’t. And that mistrust would’ve been noted by Brendan, relaxed him. He might’ve even seen you as a shield. Anything you threw against him he could’ve played off as a personal attack. Had you and I shared one secret thought on our faces, he might’ve seen it. As clever as he is, he might’ve wondered. Why did I hire him despite his reputation? Why did I so easily accept his bid to work on Tanbee House? On this, we had to be of separate minds.”
Oliver nodded. “I counted on you, Sera. I counted on you to be willing to spy for me, to be my eyes and ears. I can’t go anywhere near Tanbee House, or Brendan will disappear in a cloud of smoke. Or worse, get a restraining order against me that would taint the entire investigation. Brendan would expect your suspicion, and wouldn’t give it a second thought. He did exactly what we expected him to do—keep an eye on you, but not consider you more than an inconvenience. It worked. You can blame me and Ophelia for Grant’s part in this. He was upset that you didn’t trust him and wanted to tell you he was one of the good guys. We denied the request.”
“Ophelia,” she murmured. “My supposed assistant.”
“One of mine,” Oliver offered, with a thin smile. “I can’t do inside work anymore. Not after the attention my little operation at Free Leaf Concepts drew. She’s my team’s new mole.”
“So, what’s changed? Why now?” She still refused to look at Grant.
He decided he’d take a backseat and observe from here. Oliver had done his best to explain Grant’s deceit. Grant could do little more than await her reaction. By the way she ignored him, he surmised she was still deciding how she felt about the day’s revelations.
Oliver shrugged, but his expression gave away his anxiety. “Since the warrant is served, Brendan will have guessed he’s been watched. He’ll know you had some hand in it, Sera. I’d like to keep Grant’s part in this quiet. Should we screw this up and get nothing, he’ll likely return to work. It’s the smartest thing he can do. He needs to stick to his story, and that means sticking to the job as if his professional credentials were ever his only concern. But if the two of you seem like you’re on the same team now, he won’t be surprised. A little suspicion from Grant would be expected after Brendan’s questioning is made public.”
For a long minute, silence billowed between the three of them. Grant shifted uneasily. He
craved a moment alone with Seraphina. He sensed she held back in front of Oliver.
“Have you had the drugs tested yet?” She shot Grant a look. “No need to fill you in, I presume?”
Oliver ignored her sarcasm and answered in earnest. He laughed breathily, without any humor. “Yeah, actually. The final piece of this big, crappy puzzle has slid into place, and makes for an ugly picture.” He grimaced and his gaze fell beyond them, to the lake in the distance. “The lab guys determined the mushrooms we confiscated at Free Leaf Concepts weren’t a perfect match to the degraded samples we’ve gotten from victims that were buyers off the street. Including the ones used on Kay. They were bitter,” Oliver went on, his gaze coming back to regard Grant and Seraphina in turn. “Too bitter to be edible. Kay could taste something off after just a few bites. We concluded maybe we’d happened upon a test batch, or perhaps there was a second step to the process. It clicked when the results came back from that little baggie you found. Sugar.”
Seraphina’s mouth popped open. She closed it abruptly, but her puzzled expression remained. “Sugar?”
“Sugar and a wild concoction of other street drugs, including PCP. The substance is heated to a melting point, and the mushrooms coated. It dries into a hard shell.”
Grant tried to get a mental picture in his head. “Candied mushrooms?” He had a hard time imagining sugar improved the taste.
Oliver nodded. “Exactly. It’s why overdoses are so common. It’s a melting pot of drugs, and the side effects are all over the map.”
“God,” Seraphina breathed. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah.” Oliver sighed heavily. “It is. But now we know what we’re looking for and can run the right tests on the samples we do have. Oh, and the kid they picked up, who came for the stash? They located the drugs, but he’s still not talking. We can charge him, though, so we have time to try to convince him to deal with us.” Oliver’s hand flew to his pocket as a jangle of music burst from it. He laughed lightly. “Cappy Don’s ring tone. I better take this. Oh, and could you put in a good word to Kay? She didn’t know I’d set her up to enlist you for your help until this morning. Suffice to say, things are tense at home.”
While Oliver stepped a few paces away to take his call in privacy, Grant pulled Seraphina aside and pitched his voice for her ears only. “Are we okay?”
For a moment, she peered at him, and her pale blue eyes were unreadable. “No. Not right now.” She swiveled to Oliver and waved, heedless of the phone at his ear. “I’m going to need a ride home.”
* * * *
Seraphina put fresh eyes on Ophelia as they bent their heads together over the latest batch of updated specs. “Here.” Seraphina pointed where the current window existed. The one busted out the night she and Grant had visited Tanbee House, before the beefed-up security measures. “I’ve had Marc hold off on the repair. I think we should create a side exit.”
The other woman nodded. “I can get with the landscaping company and see if they’ve marked a pathway up this side of the house. Even if it’s a cobblestone path, there ought to be something.”
If only Roper weren’t in the room. Seraphina longed to confront Ophelia. She wanted to ask how the search warrant had panned out. She wanted to ask what she’d done previously to qualify her for this sort of undercover work. Instead, she settled for giving Ophelia pointed glances, which Ophelia ignored.
It wasn’t until Brendan Berkley shuffled past Seraphina’s office with his head down that she called quits to the meeting. She made a show of checking her watch. “How about that? Time for me to call the electrician.”
Roper stretched and stood. “I could use a latté myself.” He hadn’t done much besides hover, and Seraphina wondered whether he wanted to be helpful, or if Grant had made his wishes plain that Roper stick around.
The dark slash that was Ophelia’s brow arched. “I didn’t know you were going to speak to the electrician today.”
She hadn’t either. She almost grinned at the facetious thought. “I want to know if sconces on the brick façade of the fireplace are doable, or if I should keep my plans as they are.” This she added for Roper’s benefit. She no longer felt compelled to make excuses for Ophelia, who was probably keeping tabs on everything she did. “Besides, I’m getting a crick in my neck.”
Ophelia dropped cover long enough to shoot a knowing glare at Seraphina behind Roper’s back as he walked toward the office door. The edge of it was softened by the wry ghost of a smile.
Less than a minute later, Seraphina had Oliver on the line. “Brendan Berkley just strode past my office,” she declared with feeling. It could only mean the search warrant hadn’t provided any viable evidence. She prayed Oliver would give her some other explanation. Maybe they were misleading him on purpose. Just another leg of their long con. “He didn’t look like he’s having a great day, but I can’t believe he’s here at all. What happened?”
“Now maybe you understand our need for secrecy. We gave away our advantage, but there’s no reason he should puzzle out how deep the sting operation goes. Or went, I guess.” He sounded tired and defeated. “They found a candle stick almost exactly like the one you found in Tanbee House in his apartment, but it’s not reason enough to hold him. There’s no evidence he’s ever owned more than just the one, and as such, it’s still circumstantial. I can’t directly tie them together through anything more than coincidence. They don’t match exactly. The details are different.”
Seraphina’s heart fell in a twist of anxiety. She could tell Oliver was upset and disappointed by the way he babbled. Oliver never babbled. “Surely there’s something.”
“There isn’t!”
She froze with the phone to her ear. She’d never heard Oliver shout. Or sound so hopeless.
He continued, heedless of Seraphina’s shock. “Circumstantial. Every link I’ve got can be explained away. Every last one. The runner he sent to Tanbee House won’t talk, we’ve got no proof he hid the drugs or removed them. It could’ve been you, Sera, or Marc Curry, if it’s a simple matter of access. I mean, we’ve got evidence. We just need something solid and undeniable linking what we’ve got to Brendan Berkley. Our experts insist candelabra sets are usually matching. That they aren’t exact throws a little too much doubt on their connection. Nor can I come up with a feasible reason he’d stick something he owns in the wall to begin with. Even some of my team are having doubts now, considering perhaps Brendan is being set up. I can’t fault their logic. I can’t explain why he’d do something that stupid or obvious, either. Why plant something that could be linked to you, even if marginally?”
Seraphina ignored the rhetorical nature of the question. “Um, Oliver…I think I can answer part of that. Recall I mentioned the day Roper confronted me over the amount of time I was spending at Tanbee House? I had to give him something. I told him I thought there was something in Tanbee House. Something valuable and significant.”
Oliver made a noise in his throat. “And?”
Seraphina smoothed the file that sat on top of her desk and licked her lips. “When Roper left my office, he bumped into Brendan just outside the door. If he was eavesdropping, he’ll have known I expected to find something. It doesn’t explain everything, but…”
Silence reigned while Oliver thought. “It does, though,” he said. “Brendan was sending you a message, Seraphina. He knows you’re onto him. Also, this is another reason we didn’t want you and Grant obviously on the same team,” Oliver pointed out, almost under his breath. “Imagine what you might’ve said, even in jest, that that little pecker could’ve overheard.”
“Yeah, well, you made sure that wasn’t an issue.”
“I did what I thought was right for my investigation. Again, I’m sorry if my methods made for a rough patch in your personal life. A rough patch that’s pretty handily corrected, if you can give Grant a break. The man tried. He came here to my home to personal
ly ask that I let him tell you the truth. If you want to be pissed off at someone, I’m your guy, Sera.”
The muscle in her jaw worked. Her pride hadn’t allowed her to forgive Grant. Not yet. “You’re not out of the weeds yet, Oli,” she promised. “Anyway, about Brendan. Maybe this was less about sending a message, and more about covering his ass. Once I told Roper, Roper might tell someone else. Maybe it would look funny if nothing ever came of all my searching. Or if someone else thought to start poking around, as well, in hopes of beating me to whatever treasure might be stowed away on the property.”
“Maybe.” Oliver was silent for a beat. “Also, now you’ve found the candelabra, you no longer have a reason to poke around Tanbee House. You’ll have to come up with a brand new excuse to keep pawning your work off onto Ophelia.”
“Pawn? I didn’t… Did she complain to you?”
“A little. Don’t worry, it’s what we wanted.”
Seraphina sighed. “I know, Oliver. And I’m glad I could help. But regardless of the reasons and the methods, it’s shitty to feel used. Even if you’re a tool for good, you’re still a tool.”
“You’re right. I can apologize, but I’m not sorry. You’ve helped me establish a few possible motives for Brendan to leave behind the candlestick.”
“So what happens now?” At least she was in on the plan moving forward.
“Nothing. Brendan wins again. Until we can do better.”
That there may no longer be a plan hadn’t occurred to her. “So what, we’re giving up? This douchebag walks free? After everything? I mean, surely you’ve got someone looking further into the candelabras, right?”
Oliver’s weary sigh almost pulled her down with him. “Nope. I told you, they’re just old candlesticks, Seraphina. They aren’t all that special or unique. The design is not unheard of. There’s no evidence he ever owned more than the one he has. Not a ring of dust around a void where the other candleholder might’ve sat on the shelf. No photos of his apartment that show both candleholders on the mantel. Someone could be trying to set him up, or it could be the coincidence of a lifetime, but judges don’t convict people for coincidences.”
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