“I knew it! You’re working for the cops.” She slammed the receiver into the cradle.
“No,” Deena said and exaggerated the word with her mouth. She pointed to the phone.
Kitty picked it back up hesitantly.
“I’m not working for the cops. But a man is dead, and his family probably knows nothing about it. He’ll end up in a pauper’s grave, unmourned and unknown unless we do something about it. How would you feel if that was your grandfather and not a stranger?”
Kitty seemed to consider it. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. But I swear we didn’t kill him.” She took a few deep breaths. “When I came out of the bank, I thought he was asleep. He made a kind of raspy sound. I saw Leslie coming outside and tried to drive off before she got to the car. I didn’t want her to get a good look at the guy in case she’d seen my grandfather at the bank before. We’d put a baseball cap on him, but you could still see his face a little.”
Deena had assumed Leslie knew about Rocky. “Are you saying Leslie didn’t know that the man in the car wasn’t the real Edwin?”
“That’s right. She stuffed the ID and bank slip in his shirt pocket, and we left. Clay and I were both relieved she didn’t stick around to talk or anything. I was driving and we headed back toward the park. I made a sharp turn on Boulder Drive—you know where that curb juts out by the Laundromat? That’s when the old guy fell over on top of me. I pushed him back, but he was dead weight—you know what I mean.”
Deena could relate, remembering the time she’d ended up sitting on a dead man’s lap at a haunted house. “What did you do?”
“We pulled into the alley and Clay checked him out. When he said the man was dead, I just about threw up. We didn’t know what to do.”
“I could think of a few things,” Deena said. “Take him to the hospital or call emergency—for starters.”
“Yeah, well, I’m no Girl Scout, and Clay has a record. At least we didn’t dump him under the bridge.”
Deena bit her tongue. That hardly earned the woman and her boyfriend a merit badge.
“We drove back to our place and parked in the carport and put a blanket over him. We waited until the middle of the night and took him to the café and set him in one of those big rocking chairs out front. He was already in a sitting position—if you know what I mean.”
Deena tried to ignore the picture. “But you forgot something.”
“Right. We forgot to empty his shirt pocket.”
“And that’s how this whole mess got started.” Deena tsked at the girl across from her.
Kitty’s head dropped. “Besides stealing from my grandfather, do you think we did anything illegal?”
Deena considered the question awhile before she answered. If only Ian were there. “If everything you say is true, I know you have a couple of problems. You might be charged with failure to render aid—”
“To a dead guy?”
“Yes. For all you know, he might have been able to be revived. Also, mishandling of a corpse. You can’t just dump a body even if it is in plain sight. And before you say anything else, I strongly advise you to tell all of this to your attorney. She’s the only one who can help you and Clay with this mess.”
Obviously, the sound of her boyfriend’s name upset her again. Her face was red and worn. She looked ten years older than her thirty years. “Okay.”
“Time’s up,” the guard said. His eyes were red as though he’d just woken up from a catnap.
Kitty stood up. “One last thing. Will you try to find Clay for me? Please?”
Deena found herself nodding as the guard took the receiver from Kitty and hung it up.
Deena watched as Kitty was led away. What had she gotten herself into now? Not only had she promised not to report on the information Kitty had given her, she wasn’t sure she could trust Ian. That only left Guttman to rely on. And Miss Unicorn, attorney-at-law. Deena would check the court record to see who had been assigned the case.
But in the meantime, it was her turn to be grilled. She’d have to face Dan and tell him what happened without revealing any information. Maybe she could do it by text. Wasn’t that how all the millennials broke up with each other these days?
Unfortunately, this wasn’t her boyfriend. It was her boss, and she’d rather talk to him in person than have him accuse her of anything unethical.
Maybe ethics meant nothing to Kitty, but they meant everything to Deena.
Chapter 17
Major crimes only, Deena repeated to herself like a mantra meant to focus and relax a person during meditation. But as she walked into the Tribune building, she felt anything but relaxed.
Dan waved her in when she knocked on the door to his office, barely looking up at her. Was he avoiding eye contact? What did he have to be nervous about? He was the one who held all the cards in this situation. Unless . . . unless he was afraid she’d quit.
“Hey, Deena. Whatcha got?” He kept his focus on his computer monitor.
“I spoke to Kitty Cooper.”
Dan turned abruptly to her as though she’d passed a test and was now worthy of his attention. “Yeah? Let’s see your notes.”
“I didn’t take any.” It was all she could do to keep from squirming in her chair.
“Why not?”
“Because, like I said before, I want off the story.” She felt her chin lift in defiance and hoped Dan noticed it too. “When I came back to work at the newspaper, you said I would be reporting on major crimes only. This isn’t that kind of case. You should assign it to Crosby or Hollings.”
Dan stared at her a long moment and then slowly nodded his head. “Yeah, I should probably do that. They’re both hungry and would love to sink their teeth into a story like this. Front-page bylines are like fresh meat to them.”
Deena knew what he was doing. She wasn’t going to take the bait. “Good. Tell whoever you decide on to call me and I’ll fill them in on the background.” She held Dan’s gaze.
He swiveled back to his computer. “Yeah, I understand. It’s probably getting a little harder to keep up the pace these days. You probably want to sit back and enjoy working in your garden and hanging out at the fruit market.”
“Seriously? Now you’re throwing my age at me?” She jerked up out of her chair.
Dan shook his head. “Settle down, cutie. I’m not doing any such thing. I’m just trying to understand why a good reporter wants to walk away from a juicy story. It’s got everything—a mysterious stranger, a fishy business dealing, an arrest. Only thing missing is a murder. Is that what you’re holding out for?”
“I’m not even going to justify that with an answer.”
“Okay, you win. But don’t be surprised when some of these newer reporters try to steal your beat.” He picked up the phone and punched in some numbers. “Crosby. I need you in my office, now.”
Deena smiled. She’d won and it felt good, although Dan hadn’t put up much of a fight. She spent the next thirty minutes in a small conference room catching Eric Crosby up on the story, being careful to only include the information that she’d gotten on the record or was public knowledge.
“Thanks for this,” Eric said, holding up his notepad. “This story might be the break I need to get noticed by some bigger papers. Don’t tell Dan that, though.”
She left the building knowing why Dan needed her. Few good reporters were willing to stick around a small town like Maycroft when there were bigger markets like Dallas and Houston right around the corner. Dan had always said she was a good writer, but he really liked the fact that she was tenacious when it came to following up on leads. Her gut instincts were good.
But it was that same gut bothering her now. She missed her job with Ian and got a sinking feeling in her stomach every time she thought about it. Not only that, but she needed to find out why he had filed a complaint against Kitty. If it was him, that is. Had the girl done more to take advantage of her grandfather than she’d admitted to Deena?
The only way to
find out was to talk to him, but that wasn’t her next stop.
Chapter 18
Detective Guttman pulled out of the parking lot in his unmarked police car as Deena turned on the street behind the station. He didn’t seem to notice her. She thought about honking to get him to pull over but knew that would set him off. She was hoping to find out where his officers were on identifying Rocky B., and his mood would dictate how much he would be willing to share. Maybe he was headed to the coffee shop, and she could offer to buy him one of those cinnamon bear claws he liked so much.
He drove fast and she had a hard time keeping up with him. It didn’t take long for her to realize he was headed to the south side of town and not to his favorite doughnut shop. Maybe he was going to the Pine Tree Motel or the Oak Street bridge to interview potential witnesses. She decided to hang back a little to see where he ended up.
Instead of turning right toward the motel, he took a left toward one of the older, more run-down neighborhoods in Maycroft. Deena knew it well from some of her prior investigations. A lot of elderly and working-class folks lived in this area, although a number of the properties were foreclosed on and vacant.
She waited at the corner for Guttman to get further down Borman Road before she followed him, but then she stopped when she saw Guttman pull up and park behind a black pickup. The door of the truck in front of Guttman opened and a man got out. Luckily, Deena’s distance vision was much better than her near vision, and she recognized the man as Officer Santos. He was in uniform and hurried to get into the passenger side of Guttman’s car.
Deena wasn’t sure what to do. She couldn’t just sit there at the corner because someone might pull up behind her and force her to drive past the police officers. She decided to back up, make a U-turn, and pull onto the next street over. She made the turn and drove down the street parallel to Borman, driving slowly to find just the right spot to park where she could sit in her car and still keep her eye on Guttman between the houses. She found just the right spot, but as luck would have it, a gray-haired man in overalls sat on his front porch with a dog the size of a Chevy lying at his feet. As soon as she slowed and pulled over to park, the dog raised his head, bared his teeth, and growled. The snarl from the monstrous beast sounded like the roar of an oncoming train.
Plan B. She kept on driving down the street and wound her way back to the previous spot at the corner.
Santos got out of Guttman’s car and back into the truck. He pulled away from the curb and headed down the street, turning at the next corner. Was he coming after her? She stared in her rearview mirror. It wasn’t like she’d done anything illegal. She waited, but Santos never came. Guttman stayed in his car. What was he doing?
Curiosity got the best of her, so she backed up and parked in front of a house that had a condemned notice on the front door. Now what? Should she just act like she was taking a stroll down the street and just happen to notice Guttman in the car, or should she slink into stealth mode and sneak up like a ninja? She was afraid the latter approach might get her shot. She considered leaving her purse in the car but thought better of it and hitched it up on her shoulder.
As she walked around the corner, she wondered, on a scale of one to ten, just how angry Guttman would be at seeing her there. She could see him through the rear window of the car, but he didn’t seem to notice her approaching. When she got close to his window, she realized why. He was staring off down the road through binoculars. She stayed an arm’s length away and reached out to tap lightly on his window.
The detective jumped and the binoculars hit his steering wheel and caused his car horn to honk. He glared at her, his face red and pinched, and then frantically motioned for her to get in the back seat.
When she shut the door, she could see him staring at her in the rearview mirror. “What in blazes are you doing here?”
She decided against the “taking a stroll” excuse and went with the truth. “I wanted to talk to you about Rocky B. and Kitty Cooper.”
He turned back to the front window and slinked down in his seat. “Get down!” he hissed. Deena threw herself down across the back seat, expecting to hear gunshots. Her mind reeled like the wheel on Edwin’s favorite game show. When it finally stopped, she’d figured out the puzzle. She whispered to Guttman, “Are you on a stakeout?”
“What was your first clue, Sherlock?” he whispered back, still hunched down in his seat.
Deena could only imagine how mad he would be if she’d blown his cover. She lay there quietly, feeling a muscle pulling in her right calf. She took a few deep breaths, hoping the pain wouldn’t turn into a full-on cramp.
Guttman pushed himself up, venturing a look out the front window. He let out a long sigh. “The coast is clear. You can sit up now. Just don’t make any noise.”
Deena couldn’t imagine what noise he thought she’d make by sitting up. Bones creaking, perhaps?
“What are you doing here?” They said it in unison.
“You first,” Guttman said, keeping his voice low and steady.
“Like I said, I wanted to find out if you’d identified Rocky B. yet, and to see if you could tell me who reported Kitty Cooper to Adult Protective Services.”
“And it didn’t occur to you to call or go to the station?”
“I did go to the station, but when I saw you pulling out, I decided to follow you. I thought you were getting doughnuts. That’s not a crime, is it?” She watched his eyes in the rearview mirror.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll check on it as soon as I get back to the station.”
She relaxed a little. How mad could he be if he was making jokes? It was a joke, wasn’t it?
He cleared his throat. “We’ve got a lead on Rocky. That’s all I can say for now. And I don’t know who reported the Cooper girl, and I wouldn’t tell you even if I did.”
Deena desperately wanted to tell him about Kitty and Clay and the bank, but knew she’d promised Kitty she wouldn’t. She had hoped the police would have gotten the information on their own by now.
“And for your other question, see that house down there with smoke coming out of the chimney?”
“Yeah.”
“Notice anything suspicious?”
Deena stared at the well-worn wood-frame house that had probably been someone’s dream home in the forties. It looked like every other house on the street. “Not really.”
“Not even the smoke coming out of the chimney?”
“Oh, that. Yeah. Why would they have a fire going in spring?”
“Exactly. Neighbors said two men have been going in with bags of groceries and burning a fire for several days now. You know what that probably means?”
“A meth lab!”
“Shhh. Hold it down.” Guttman raised his binoculars. “Look. A guy’s coming out with one of those pizza-warming bags.” They watched as the man got in his car.
“Don’t a lot of drug dealers disguise themselves as pizza delivery guys? I saw that on TV.”
Guttman picked up the radio receiver and pushed the button. “Santos. The yellow bird is flying.” He looked back at Deena. “Where’s your car?”
“Back around the corner.”
“Look, I want you to stay down. This guy may be armed.”
Deena did as instructed, her pulse rate zooming up to top speed.
Guttman radioed again. “Santos. You take the lead. I’ve got a civi on board.” They pulled out and drove down the street at a normal pace. But once Guttman turned the corner, he hit the gas. Within seconds, he screeched to a halt. “Stay down,” he yelled again as he got out of the car.
Deena closed her eyes and held her breath. She had her cell phone in her hand and was ready to dial 9-1-1 at the first sign of trouble. She could hear voices but couldn’t make out what they said. No one was yelling, and no one was shooting.
Deena waited until she could wait no more. She raised her head just enough to get a peek at the action.
The man with the pizza box was sitting on the g
round, his arms handcuffed behind him. He was leaning against the yellow sedan he’d been driving. The red insulated bag was unzipped and a pizza box lay next to it, lid open. From Deena’s angle, she couldn’t see what was in the box. Sirens grew louder and two cars raced down the road past them, apparently going to the meth house.
Guttman turned and caught her peeking over the back seat. She lay back down on her side and waited. It wasn’t long before Officer Santos pulled his car next to her, got out, and opened her door. “Come on,” he said. “I’m taking you back to your vehicle.”
Deena noticed Guttman kept his back to her now. She got in the police car and told Santos where her car was parked. They drove past the house with two police cars parked out front. One officer stood on the porch. She assumed the others were inside. She wondered how long it would be before Dan would have a reporter on the scene.
“So did the guy have meth on him?” Deena didn’t know if the rookie would tell her anything or not.
Santos sat silent as he pulled up next to her car. Just as she was about to get out, a voice crackled over the radio. “Hey, fellas, can we bust these guys for making wood-fire pizza out of their house? That’s what they’re doing.”
Santos stared straight ahead, his face the color of marinara.
She got out. “Thank you, Officer Santos,” she said. “Have a nice day.”
She could only imagine the grief Guttman would get for this. She started up her SUV and remembered the only way out of the neighborhood was by driving past the pizza-man bust. She didn’t dare stop and razz him now. There’d be time for that another day. But to her surprise, the detective actually flagged her down as she drove past. She rolled down her window. “I won’t say anything about the crust bust. The pie spy. The—”
“It’s not that,” Guttman said, a serious look molding his face. “I just got a call that your neighbor Edwin Cooper has been found dead in his home.”
Stay Sharpe Box Set Page 40