To Keep a Secret
Brenda Chapman
Copyright © 2014 Brenda Chapman
First published in 2014 by Grass Roots Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Grass Roots Press gratefully acknowledges the financial support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Government of Alberta through the Alberta Foundation for the Arts.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Chapman, Brenda, 1955–, author
To keep a secret / Brenda Chapman.
(Anna Sweet mysteries)
ISBN 978–1–77153–006–4 (pbk.)
I. Title. II. Series: Chapman, Brenda, 1955– . Anna Sweet mysteries.
PS8605.H36T6 2014 C813’.6 C2014–900325–0
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
About the Author
For my sister, Donna Russell—and all the good times.
CHAPTER ONE
Storm Investigations’ newest recruit, Nick Roma, texted me just as I was sitting down to supper. A meal that included my dad’s fall-off-the-bone spareribs and mashed potatoes. I glanced at the message on my cellphone: Call me at the office when you get this. Urgent. I set my beer bottle on the table, sighed deeply, and stood up.
“Looks like I have to make a phone call,” I said. “Work related.”
Dad said through a mouthful of meat, “Thought you had the day off.”
“So did I.”
Evan looked up from his plate. Barbecue sauce dripped down his chin. “Are we still going to watch the movie after dinner, Aunt Anna?” He was wearing that hopeful puppy-dog look. His mom, who was my sister Cheri, and his dad, Jimmy, had been working long hours lately, including now. When not in his Grade One class, six-year-old Evan was spending a lot of time in after-school programs or with a sitter. He reminded me of a little houseplant thirsting for attention.
I reached down and ruffled his hair. “I don’t see why not. I just need to let our new office manager know that he should be phoning Jada. She’s on call today. Not me. Otherwise, it can wait until tomorrow.”
“You tell him,” Dad said, waving a rib in the air.
I speed-dialled the office as I crossed the kitchen floor and stepped into the hall. Nick must have been waiting with his hand hovering above the phone.
“Anna, sorry to bother you, but . . .”
I cut him off. I didn’t try to hide my irritation. “Jada’s the one you should have contacted. I’m on a well-deserved day off, if you recall.”
I pictured our new hire. Nick Roma was twenty-eight, tall, and good-looking. He had straight black hair that he wore shaggy and on the long side. His soulful eyes reminded me of black velvet. He had too much going on to be working for minimum wage in a start-up PI business. But I’d yet to get his full story out of Jada. Nick had managed to sidestep my personal questions like a boxer dodging opening jabs.
Everything about him made me grumpy—from his handsome face to the patient way he looked at me. I just couldn’t get a read on what was going on in his head. He reminded me of my brother-in-law Jimmy Wilson and every man I’d ever dated who believed women owed them just for looking good. Well, I was older and wiser now and not so trusting. I could feel in my bones that Nick Roma was up to something. I just didn’t know what . . . yet.
“Jada’s the reason I’m phoning you.” Nick paused as if waiting to see if I was going to cut him off again. When I didn’t, he said, “Jada got a text message around ten thirty. She told me that she had to leave for a minute but would be back for a one o’clock meeting. She never showed up.”
Odd but not earth-shattering. “Did she call in?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea where she went?”
“No. I’ve tried calling her all afternoon. But her phone’s been off.”
Jada never turned her phone off.
I tapped my fingers against my forehead while I thought. Had she told me about a new client? I didn’t remember, if so. I realized that I knew nothing about her life outside the office. I hadn’t wanted to get too attached to my business partner. I planned on leaving Ottawa in the spring and returning to my life on the road in the US. Maybe I should have made more of an effort.
“Do you have her address handy?”
“Right here. She lives downtown near the bus station.” I couldn’t fault Nick’s research skills. He was proving to be always one step ahead.
I jotted down the address. Jada lived in a rough section of town. “Well, I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’ll swing by after supper,” I said.
A supper that I wasn’t going to enjoy, now that worry was sitting like a big cabbage in my stomach. And especially now that I had to tell Evan that I wouldn’t be around to watch a movie.
• • • • • • • • • •
It was close to eight o’clock and snowing lightly when I parked across the street from Jada’s house. I’d checked in again with Nick before I told Evan I had to go out. No word from Jada. She’d been out of contact for eleven hours.
I zipped up my jacket and looked across the street. Two weeks into November and grass was still showing. This light snow would melt before long, too. I waited for two men in grubby jackets and black skull caps to walk by before I stepped out of my car. I made sure to lock it.
Jada’s once proud house was now tired brown brick: old-style windows, peeling paint, and lopsided steps. The front yard was small and hemmed in by driveways. The building had been a three-storey mansion in its day. Now it was divided into apartments. I climbed the snowy steps carefully and checked apartment numbers under the eight mailboxes. They were screwed into the brick in two crooked rows. Jada’s box was empty.
The front door wasn’t locked, so I pushed it open and stepped inside. There was just enough light to see two apartment doors and a staircase. I climbed the grey painted steps, taking care in the near darkness. I found Jada’s apartment on the right of the small landing on the second floor. Apartment number three. I knocked and waited. I knocked again, louder this time, and leaned my ear against the door to listen for sounds of life. Nothing.
I checked that nobody had poked their head out of the other apartment. Then I reached inside my pocket and took out a pick. It took me a good minute to work the lock. As quietly as I could, I turned the door knob. Then I slipped inside my partner’s apartment and pulled the door shut behind me.
CHAPTER TWO
All of the lights were off. But a streetlight outside the living room window brightened the darkness, so I could see well enough. I stood for a moment in the hallway, trying to get a sense of the space. Then I walked down the hall to the kitchen and turned on the overhead light. It was a long, narrow room with a small window looking out over the driveway. Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink. A stain of milk spread across the counter. The stove and fridge were ancient, built in another era. I crossed to the small table and two chairs tucked into the corner.
A bulletin board on the wall above the table had photos
of Jada and a hot-looking young man. In some pictures, he was alone, dressed in a soccer uniform. In others, he had his arm around Jada and they were smiling. They were both fit, compact with glowing brown skin and dancing black eyes. For some reason, I’d thought that Jada lived alone. Did her boyfriend live here or did he have his own place?
I backed out of the kitchen and kept going down the hall. The bathroom had an old claw tub and a black-and-white tiled floor. Jada’s bedroom was just big enough for her double bed, dresser, and bedside table. Crime novels and murder mysteries were stacked in piles on the floor. Her reading lamp had a pink shade and tassels. There was no sign of a man sharing the room.
The back bedroom was slightly larger. Posters of Ottawa Senators hockey players and Blue Jays baseball players covered all of the wall space. Two rows of shelves held sports trophies and high school text books. I checked inside a chemistry notebook. Henry Price was written in blue ink on the inside cover. Now why hadn’t I known that Jada was living with her brother?
I made another check of the apartment, but didn’t find anything out of order. I hadn’t expected to, but I’d sleep easier knowing. No signs of a struggle or bodies on the floor. I flicked off all the lights and stepped outside the apartment, pulling the door closed. I turned around and shrieked.
A white-haired woman was glaring at me through gold-rimmed glasses from across the hall. She stood just inside her apartment with a brass chain keeping the door from opening very far. She held a cellphone in her raised hand. Her eyes pinned me to the wall.
“Give me one good reason not to press 9-1-1,” she said in an upper-crust British accent.
I held up both hands to show that I hadn’t stolen anything. “I’m just looking for Jada Price,” I said. “She’s gone missing.” I smiled weakly.
“And you would be . . . ?”
“Her partner, Anna Sweet. We work together.”
I heard the chain scrape out of the lock and the door swung open. “You’re earlier than I expected. Taller, too.” Her beady blue eyes looked me up and down before she turned and disappeared into the apartment.
I stood in the hall, completely confused. Should I wait or high tail it out of there? Was she even planning on coming back?
As I hesitated, she called out, “Well, are you coming in, then? I haven’t got all night!”
“On my way,” I called back. Just what was I getting myself into?
I stepped inside her apartment and into her living room. The apartment was laid out the same as Jada’s, just completely reversed. The woman had crammed a houseful of furniture into the tiny living room: a massive couch, two Lazy Boy chairs, a rocker and footstool, a large oak coffee table, four end tables, lamps, and a hutch. Framed photos of cats and grandkids covered every square inch of the walls. Figurines filled the surfaces. It took me a moment to take it all in.
The woman waved me closer to where she sat on the couch. She was wearing a flowery blue dress and sturdy black shoes. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun. A long-haired grey cat stretched across her lap. I sat in one of the Lazy Boys and pressed my knees together. I felt like I was visiting the principal’s office.
“My name is Pam Rendell,” she said. “Retired Grade Four teacher. My husband left me two years ago and made off with most of our money. I was forced to sell my house to pay off his debts. So here I am. Jada comes for coffee now and then. I’m telling you this so that you know I can be trusted. Now, can you show me some ID?”
Does she think we’re secret agents? I found my wallet and pulled out my driver’s licence. Pam held it up to the light.
“Right,” she said. “Jada told me to only share this information with you. The young lad, her brother Henry, was in a terrible state this morning. He should have been in school. Jada showed up and took him away.”
“Jada took him away?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“Do you know why or where?”
“No. She told me that you would show up looking for her tomorrow. I’m to tell you ‘Brenner stakeout.’ I assume that’s code for something.”
I let my mind scramble back six years. The Brenner stakeout was for an armed robbery suspect. Jimmy Wilson was on that case. He spent a week parked outside the Bluebell Motel in the south end of the city. A tip from the public had led the police there. It was a good tip in the end. The suspect’s brother owned the Bluebell. Seven days after the robbery, Randy Brenner showed up in the middle of the night, and was arrested.
“It tells me her location. Why didn’t she just call me?”
“No idea, Miss Sweet. I suggest you ask her.”
“Believe me, that’s just what I plan to do. Do you have any idea why Henry was upset?”
Pam shook her head. “He was scared out of his wits about something, but not talking. Also his clothes were dirty and he was walking with a limp.”
I stood. “Thank you for passing along Jada’s message. I’ll go see what I can do to help.”
“One last thing.” Pam lowered her voice even though we were alone. “Jada said to make sure you aren’t being followed. Said you were to be careful . . . and to tell no one. She and her brother are counting on you.”
CHAPTER THREE
I took side streets and shortcuts through shopping centre parking lots to make sure I wasn’t being followed. I had no idea why, but Henry’s fear made me want to play along. Just before nine thirty, I pulled up to the Bluebell Motel. Jada’s black Sunfire, a car that should have died five years ago, was angled in front of door number two. I parked my car in the empty spot next to her. Doing another check to make sure I wasn’t followed, I got out of my car and walked up to room two. I knocked and waited. No sound of movement in the room, but the door to number five opened wide. Jada waved me over.
“What’s going on?” I asked as she grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. She kicked the door shut behind her. I saluted Henry, who was lying on the far bed watching TV. He lifted a hand and waved back. I turned to face Jada.
“Anna, this is my brother Henry. Thanks for coming,” she said. “Did you bring any cold beer?”
My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? I was a tad busy making sure nobody was following me over here. You give your neighbour lady Pam a message for me to get here urgently . . . and you ask me about beer? Are you out of your ever-loving—”
Jada shot me a little smile and I stopped waving my arms. Henry chuckled from the bed.
“I’m sorry,” Jada said. “But until I know what we’re dealing with, I have to play it safe.” She flung herself onto the bed closest to us and looked up at me. Her eyes were worried.
I lowered myself into the only chair in the room. I rested my elbows on my knees and leaned close to her. “So what’s going on, Jada? Why are you and Henry in hiding?”
She glanced over at her brother. “Maybe Henry should tell you. It’s his story.”
Henry was even more attractive in person. He had Jada’s bright eyes and smile, not that he was smiling now. He pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed with his feet on the carpet. “It’s all my fault,” he said. “I never should have let Mandy talk me into her hare-brained scheme.” He thumped his hand against his forehead. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”
“This isn’t the time, Henry,” Jada said. “You can get mad at yourself later. Tell Anna what happened.”
Henry nodded. He looked at me as he spoke. “Mandy Blair is a girl at my school. Kind of a hard ass. Her idea of a good time is scaling a cliff or biking across Canada. She doesn’t take any guff from anybody. She’s also freakishly brilliant about computer systems.”
I began to have a bad feeling. “Does what you are about to tell me involve hacking?” I asked.
Henry’s frown deepened. “No . . . well, not really. Maybe, sort of . . .”
“Spit it out, Henry,” Jada said.
“I need to know all the bad bits if I’m going to help you,” I added.
“Okay,” Henry took a deep breath. “We
were just messing around on the computer a few months ago after school at my house.”
“You had a girl in your bedroom?” Jada asked.
“You were at work. Nothing happened. We were trolling through some of the second-level sites.”
“What do you mean, second-level?” I asked.
“There’re the top-level sites that are easy to access—the ones everyone sees—and then there are the sites harder to get to. They’re the ones keeping secrets.”
“The underworld.”
“Yeah. You could put it that way. Anyhow, Mandy found this dating site for married men. You needed a password and they had security, but Mandy had a way to get past that. We figured the married men just wanted privacy. But then we realized that the women on the site looking for men were teenagers. None under sixteen, though, from what we could tell.”
“Legal,” I said. “But just.”
“Yeah, that’s why we didn’t turn the site over to the police. So, Mandy came up with another idea. She’s seventeen but looks about fifteen when she dresses young. We set up a parallel page and contacted some of the men from Ottawa. Mandy met them at a coffee shop and recorded their conversations. I was at another table and filmed the meetings with my cellphone. Then we blackmailed them.”
“For money?”
“Not for us! We told them to donate two thousand dollars to a girls’ charity. We destroyed all the evidence once we saw the donation in their name on the charity’s site.”
“How did these men know that you hadn’t made copies?”
“Because Mandy promised. Plus, they had no other option. For them, two thousand dollars isn’t much of a gamble. We got two of the men to pay and one more was thinking about it.”
“Did any refuse?”
“Nope. We only contacted the three.”
I thought some more. “Could the owner of this site have known what you were up to?”
Henry shook his head. “Mandy contacted the men directly once they signed up on the site. The page she sent them with her picture wasn’t actually on the site.”
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