Murder in the River City

by Allison Brennan

Black pondered that. Shauna watched him closely. He was a smart guy, constantly thinking, but he kept his face blank. She hated that. She wanted someone she could read.

  “Well?” Shauna prompted.

  Black said slowly, “There may have been more to the robbery than money. Perhaps she thought the baseballs were worth more than what they appraised for.”

  “That’s thin,” Shauna said. “And you know it.”

  Black smiled at her, but his eyes didn’t. “It’s nice you can read my mind so easily.”

  She sighed, exasperated. “It’s obvious now that she or her boyfriend knew the Babe Ruth was fake and left it.”

  “Which leads credence to the theory you just attributed to me, that they killed Mack for the baseballs.”

  “They may have wanted to steal the baseballs, but why would they kill him?”

  “Because he could identify them?”

  “And why did her boyfriend kill Callie?”

  “Maybe she didn’t plan on killing Mack. Threatened to go to the police.”

  It made sense. Dammit, it made a lot of sense.

  Except. “This Joey Gleason—he didn’t break into Mack’s apartment. It was someone else, someone taller and heavier. A partner? Why? Did Mack have something of value?”

  Black smiled, and this time it lit his dark eyes. “Now you really are thinking like a cop,” he said.

  She couldn’t decide if he was being condescending or not.

  Black said, “I know Mack was a good friend to you both, but was he ever into anything that might have gotten him in trouble? Maybe in the past—did he have friends on the other side of the law?”

  Dooley frowned. Shauna knew what he didn’t want to say, but she let her grandfather tell it in his own way. “Mack’s been with me for nine years,” he said. “He had a rough time at first. Served in the Army, Desert Storm, honorable discharge. He didn’t want to come back home—but couldn’t go back because of shrapnel in his leg. He tried a lot of jobs. When he came to me, he was in debt. Gambling. Legal gambling, as far as I know—lost his house, his car, his family. All in Reno. Moved here for a fresh start. I don’t think he was gambling anymore, but sometimes—sometimes I suspected he was going over the mountain, to Reno, to play cards. But he didn’t seem to have worries, never asked for more money. I never saw any discrepancies in the books. He wasn’t stealing from me.”

  “I concur,” Shauna said. “I would have noticed.” After learning how Jason Butler had bilked investors, she’d been doubly careful with all the accounting records she kept, for both her father and her grandfather.

  “Did he ever have more money than he should have had?”

  “You saw his apartment, right? He’s been there for nine years. Rent’s not expensive. I think he spent more for his television than all his furniture combined.” Dooley smiled sadly at the memories. “He loved his sports. Has a car, nothing special.”

  “His bank statements are in line with his salary and lifestyle,” Black said. He didn’t have to tell them that, and Shauna appreciated that he was including them in the investigation.

  “There’s one thing,” Dooley said, hesitation in his voice.

  He didn’t say anything at first. Shauna prompted, “Da, what is it? You have to tell us.”

  “I called his daughter Missy. She still lives in Reno. He wasn’t on good terms with her or his ex. He’s been sending her money when he can—she’s a single mom. She said she already knew, that a Sacramento detective had talked to her about his murder.”

  Black tensed. “When?”

  “I talked to her yesterday morning. Tuesday. I meant to call her Monday, but—” His voice trailed off.

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have her contact information?”

  “I’ll get it.” Dooley shuffled toward his office in the storeroom.

  Shauna said quietly, “That wasn’t a detective who spoke to her, was it?”

  Black shook his head. “I didn’t send anyone to Reno. I would have contacted the local police department if I needed something from her.” He stood and said, “Tell Dooley I’ll take a rain check on the Guinness. I have some calls to make. Can you send me the daughter’s contact information?”

  “Of course,” Shauna said. “And you’re welcome anytime, Detective.”

  He smiled. “Glad to be on your good side again, Ms. Murphy.”

  She didn’t know if he was serious or not.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sam called John, filled him in on what he’d learned at Coresco & Hunt Law Offices, and went to visit a friend of his for some background information.

  Manny Rodriguez was a former cop who’d left Sac PD at the same time Sam did. But Sam never wanted to give up his badge, while Manny resented the scrutiny and bad blood he and Sam had gotten after turning in Sam’s former partner for bribes.

  Manny had a small office in a converted Victorian on I Street, close enough to the courthouse and bail bondsman who comprised most of his business. Sam thought it was humorous that the ground floor housed a hair and nail salon, while Manny shared the second floor with a criminal defense lawyer.

  “I heard you were back,” Manny said after giving Sam a hug. Manny looked more like the gang-banger he used to play on the streets than the undercover cop he used to be or the private investigator he was now. “I wish you would have taken me up on my offer for a partnership.”

  “If I had left the job for anyone, it would have been you,” Sam said. Manny had stuck with him through the arduous investigation and fall-out.

  Sam sat in one of the stiff chairs in Manny’s surprisingly sparse office. Looking around he said, “You getting enough work?”

  “More than enough. Sure you don’t want to give up the badge?”

  “Positive.”

  “Can’t believe you came back here.”

  “I’m in homicide now. Working with John Black.”

  Manny nodded. “Black’s a good cop. His team has the highest clearance rate.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Why’d you come back?”

  “I missed home.”

  “You’re divorced, your parents have been dead for years, what’s home?”

  “Are you trying to depress me?”

  “You came back for that redhead.”

  Manny was partly right, but Sam came back as much to fix things with Shauna as to take back his life and former career in Sac PD. Yet, he’d spent half the night wondering if Shauna had been playing a game with him last night or if it her flirting was innocuous. He had the distinct impression she was trying to make a point, but he hadn’t been thinking with his head.

  “Tell that girl you love her already.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s not. You fucked up, admit it, fix it.”

  “Manny, you know Shauna.”

  “I do. That’s why you have to tell her it was all your fault, you were an idiot, you weren’t thinking straight, you never thought of her as a sister, and you’re scared to death you’re going to screw it up again.”

  “You want me to be that honest?”

  Manny shot him a look that, if Sam didn’t know him, would have looked murderous. Six feet of solid Cuban muscle with a long-faded scar on his jawline, Manny looked like a bouncer or an enforcer. When he’d been a cop in Vice, Manny had infiltrated some of the most violent gangs in Sacramento. Sam had known him long enough to know he could act exactly how he looked. He’d gotten out of law enforcement because he feared what he was becoming. He thought it would save his relationship with his girlfriend. It hadn’t. She’d left him. But he still hadn’t returned. Yet this office, this life, had done him well. Manny was a lot calmer and seemed happier than two years ago.

  “Sammy, you’ve had a hard on for that chick since forever. Emma was a bitch. You know I couldn’t stand her, but you set up that marriage to fail because you were in love with another woman. Girls know these things. Emma knew it and
used it to hurt you.”

  “There was never anything between Shauna and me.”

  Manny laughed a deep, guttural roar. “Just because you haven’t had sex?” He laughed again. “Sam, you’re right. We should never be partners, if you’re so fucking blind.”

  “I thought you were giving up swearing.”

  “So sue me.” Manny gave the boring square office a shake. “Now, tell me why you came by? You’re obviously working.”

  “What do you know about Coresco & Hunt? Lawyers.”

  Manny leaned back in his chair, but his body wasn’t relaxed. “I won’t be taking any business from them, if that’s what you mean.”

  “No, I don’t—the name came up in a double homicide Black and I are working. Mack Duncan, Dooley’s bartender, was killed at the pub Sunday night. A former employee, female, was killed an hour later at Discovery Park. We have evidence she may have been at the bar, or know the people who were.”

  “I’ll preface this to say that I don’t know a lot about all the people working for the firm, but the head honcho, Jimmy Coresco, has ties to what passes as the mafia in Sacramento.”

  “They’re not criminal defense.”

  “No. They’re worse. If everything I’ve heard is true—and I don’t know anything first hand—Coresco helps criminals launder their money. Sets them up in tax shelters, helps keep their businesses squeaky, knows all the ins and outs of tax law and banking law and corporate law. Very high-end stuff.”

  “Do you know any of their clients?”

  “I don’t know names. Well, there was this one case, a bust I made a few years ago. There was this homeless shelter for teens. The shelter was run by Mika, a former nun, who alerted us to possible sex trafficking. Some pimp was recruiting girls from the shelter. They were being sent to someplace called Mary Magdalene’s Home for Girls.” Manny cringed. “Taking a religion icon and perverting it, I wanted to string them up.”

  “What happened?”

  “We shut down the trafficking—they’d been prostituting the girls, and some were being transported across state lines, essentially sold to other prostitution rings. But the Home for Girls had retained Coresco & Hunt. They had all their paperwork in order, were completely legit according to the D.A.”

  “But?” Sam stopped in the shade of the porch.

  “But I don’t buy it. Coresco didn’t defend them in court, but he convinced the D.A. the home was simply being used by a criminal, that the services they offered were being abused. Thing is—that guy, who I busted, ended up dead in prison before his trial. I was in the game a long time, Sammy. I know something was fishy.”

  Sam wasn’t certain Manny was right, but he had been in Vice long enough that Sam had to trust his instincts. Enough to dig deeper.

  “What about the other guy? Hunt?”

  “Know nothing about him. I can find out.” Manny eyed him. “You want me to dig deeper on the firm? Pro bono, for an old friend.”

  “Thanks.”

  #

  Fifteen minutes later, Sam walked into Dooley’s, gratefully escaping the Sacramento heat. He loved his hometown, but it was days like this that made him want to become a cop in a place like Maine or Idaho. He paused inside the door, relishing the cool, artificial air. He took off his dark sunglasses and hooked them on his belt loop. Shauna was across the room, her back to him. He loved the way her never-ending legs were exposed through her filmy skirt as she shifted this way and that, wiping tables and stacking dishes. He remembered Manny’s advice:

  Tell her you love her.

  Manny had met Shauna, but he didn’t know her like Sam did. He’d blown it big time, and he was blowing it again. Maybe. He wished he knew if she had truly forgiven him. He wished he knew if he could take everything back and start new. Fresh. But with their history, he didn’t see how that was possible.

  A movement to his left caught his eye, and he turned to see Mike Murphy gesturing to him from one of the tall bar tables next to the window.

  He slid onto the stool across from Mike. “Was Shauna okay last night?” he asked.

  “You know Shauna,” Mike said. “She won’t slow down. But she’s fine. I made sure of it before I left this morning. And she nearly decked me when I woke her up every two hours to make sure her concussion wasn’t giving her problems. She thinks I lied about her injuries so I could torment her.” Mike sipped his beer. “So, what’s going on?”

  “We filled you in yesterday.”

  “Shauna said Mack’s murder is connected to the girl pulled from the riverbank the other day.”

  “That was my case. John and I are now working them together.”

  “Callie Wood. Shauna told me. Was Mack into something he shouldn’t have been?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “A lot of leads right now.” He glanced at Shauna, trying to read her. She was the same as always. Chatting with customers, moving non-stop. But she seemed more aware of her surroundings, and every time someone walked into the bar, she looked at them, a small frown on her face. He didn’t want Shauna to go through the rest of her life fearful.

  “You’re worried about her,” Mike said.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Of course. But you have your cop face on.”

  “I don’t have a cop face.”

  “You have a lot on your plate, coming back after two years, picking up in a new division, but—” Mike glanced over at Shauna again.

  “I’ll watch out for her,” Sam said. “John said in passing that her ex-boyfriend was giving her some problems.”

  “Austin Davis?” Mike snorted. “He doesn’t mean anything to her. I wouldn’t even call him an ex-boyfriend. She went out with him a few times, that’s it.”

  “Would she have told you if something was wrong?”

  “Dooley never liked him, and she’s not seeing him anymore. I don’t know anything else about it. Ask her.”

  Sam shook his head. “I’m not the one to talk to her about her love life. John thought it was odd enough to mention, but if you don’t think there’s anything she can’t handle…”

  “Shauna’s fine. At least, she will be when you catch the guys who killed Mack. I’m more concerned about Jason Butler.”

  At the mention of Butler, Sam burned. “He’s living in San Francisco,” Sam said. “I checked with his parole officer when I found out he was released early.” Non-violent crime, the parole board said. Time off for good behavior, they said. Jason Butler was a slimeball to the nth degree. Insurance fraud was just the tip of the iceberg. As far as Sam was concerned, he deserved life. But he’d plead out and paid restitution to all his victims. His family was loaded. He bought his way out with money and a couple years of his life.

  The only consolation was Shauna had seen his true colors and kicked him to the curb. But she hadn’t been happy with Sam at the time. And Sam knew she’d visited him in prison.

  Maybe he’d been a wee bit militant about the bastard who’d planned on marrying her.

  “He’s in town,” Mike said.

  “Visiting his parents?”

  “I don’t know. Dad said he was at the office today talking to Shauna. I wanted to talk to her about it, but she’s been swamped all afternoon.”

  “He went to see her?” Sam said. He thought he was calm, but Mike gave him an odd look.

  “Sam, be careful with Shauna about Jason. They were friends for a long time before they got involved. She’s not naïve, but she’s not going to tell him he’s persona non gratis.”

  “She should,” Sam said, getting up from the tall bar table.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Sam ignored Mike and walked over to where Shauna was pouring two pints and chatting with regulars who’d been coming to Dooley’s so long even Sam recognized them.

  “Shauna, do you have a minute?” he said.

  She glanced at him, hope in her eyes and he realized she probably thought he had information about Mack’s murder investigation. How was he going
to do this?

  She served the pints with a smile and excused herself. “Dooley!” she called to the other end of the bar. “I’m taking five.”

  “Take as much time as you need, girl,” Dooley said.

  “It’s crowded,” Sam said as they made their way through the storeroom and to Dooley’s small office in the back. It was more Shauna’s desk—she handled Dooley’s books and paid all the bills. A small fan on top of the filing cabinet blew warm air over them.

  “Everyone is coming in to support Dooley,” she said. “He needs it, but it’s keeping me on my toes. You have news?”

  “No.” He didn’t want to give her false hope about Callie’s boyfriend, but he said, “We have a lead on the boyfriend, and the crime scene techs have been all over Mack’s apartment. They have some fingerprints that aren’t his or yours and are processing them. Maybe we’ll get a break.”

  “What about the beer? At Natomas Fast Gas?”

  “No archived security footage.”

  “Too bad,” she said.

  “Um, we need to talk.”

  “That’s what you said a minute ago. What’s wrong?”

  He had to spit it out. “What did Jason Butler want?”

  She stared at him, her green eyes so bright and vivid he could get lost in them. Except he knew that look, and it was too calm.

  “Mike told you,” she said.

  “He said Butler was at Murphy & Sons today.”

  “He was.” She didn’t elaborate.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Why?”

  “You want to know why he came to visit me?”

  “The guy’s a convicted felon.”

  “Who served his time.”

  “You know he was guilty of worse shit than what he pled to!”

  “What business is it of yours?”

  “I just don’t want to see you make a mistake.”

  Her eyes widened and her chest reddened and Sam realized he’d way over-stepped.

  “I mean…” He tried to backtrack. “If he—”

  She poked him with her index finger. “Do you think I would let my brothers dictate who I talk to or who I do business with?”