by Honor Bound
“See this one?” Kelly said, passing it to Ben. “She looks terrific, at least on paper, but the checklist shows she wasn’t interviewed or contacted at all.”
“Given Frank’s lack of organizational skills, I’m astonished there is a checklist,” Ben murmured, glancing through the application, his frown deepening.
“Viv made sure a list was attached to every résumé. I remember she cross-checked with the applicants on their interview status when we got a call from someone Frank claimed he’d interviewed, but hadn’t. He was more careful with the paperwork after that.”
“There’s nothing like getting caught out on a lie.”
“It might have been an honest mistake,” Kelly acknowledged, “but it looked bad. He wasn’t even required to interview all of the top applicants, though it’s generally a good practice.”
All at once Kelly’s office door flew open and the mayor stood there, scowling. He hated closed doors, being paranoid about what employees might be saying behind them.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
Ben didn’t twitch. “My job.”
The mayor grabbed a file from Ben and saw the employment checklist stapled to the front. His face turned red. “You’re spending time on personnel issues when the murder of a fine citizen like Harvey Bryant goes unsolved? That’s outrageous. You should be investigating the stuff that homeless trash was involved in—something illegal, no doubt. There must be a connection. It’s the only explanation for the murder of an upstanding member of our community. The bum got himself killed and it led to Mr. Bryant’s death.”
Kelly slapped the file she was reading onto the desk. “That’s complete and utter non—”
“Thank you for your insight, Mayor,” Ben said smoothly, interrupting Kelly. “We’ll give it the attention it deserves.”
The mayor gave him a cornered look. Nothing in Ben’s words or expression was disrespectful, but Phillip Stone knew he was being mocked. “Do that,” he snarled.
Kelly sat frozen until the sound of footsteps receded.
“That ass,” she fumed. “The unmitigated gall. There’s no way Simon was involved in anything illegal. He was homeless, not dishonest.”
“We certainly haven’t found any evidence of a problem.”
“You won’t,” Kelly said staunchly. “Simon was clean, sober and alert. I might have wondered what his story was, but I know he was a genuinely decent person.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
Ben’s quiet words took a moment to sink in, and when they did, she stared. “It…is?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I’m shocked, too.”
“HEY, BOSS, I’M MAKING a burger run. Do you want anything?” Detective Fairmont asked an hour after Ben returned to the police station.
Ben examined the younger man’s face. His instincts told him that while Fairmont and Lasko hadn’t been the best candidates for their positions, they weren’t linked to Frank Stone except by accident.
“Boss?”
Ben took out his wallet and tossed a ten on the desk. “Sure, I’ll have a cheeseburger and a chocolate milk shake.”
“You bet.”
When he was alone, Ben turned to his computer. He could have his detectives run a background check on the former police chief, but it would be better to do it himself. While Ben didn’t think much of the mayor, he didn’t want to trash him politically based on nothing more than a feeling that something was off-kilter.
He just hoped Kelly would watch what she said around Mayor Stone. They didn’t need him getting more suspicious than he was already.
Two hours later Ben’s milk shake had melted and the hamburger was uneaten. He dumped both into the wastebasket and skimmed through the material he’d tracked down on Frank Stone. The former police chief didn’t have any convictions, but he had been arrested once in Seattle for suspected smuggling of rare artifacts.
A mug shot couldn’t reveal much about a person, but Frank Stone was similar in appearance to his brother, with more hair and a weaker chin. He was forty, with an average height and build, and his smug smile was annoying as hell—he must have pissed off the arresting officers with that attitude.
Ben flipped a page and read the arrest record a third time. The case had been dropped when the star witness suddenly developed amnesia, but that didn’t make Stone innocent. Or guilty, Ben acknowledged. Yet being the Sand Point police chief would have put him in an unparalleled spot to pursue criminal activities, and having inexperienced detectives on his staff would be safer since they’d be less likely to figure things out. They wouldn’t even know the right questions to ask.
Ben lifted the phone and dialed his uncle. “It’s me,” he said when Henry answered. “Was Frank Stone in town when you had your accident?”
“Hmm…yes. He’d been hanging around City Hall for a few weeks. Viv got angry when he kept bothering the female employees.”
“Why wasn’t a sexual harassment suit filed?”
“Because this is a small town and he’s the mayor’s brother. I warned Frank and he backed off. Do you think he tampered with my truck?” Henry asked.
“Maybe. You told me he ran an auto repair shop before it was sold, so he’d probably have the skills to do it. And he was arrested in Seattle a couple of years ago on suspicion of smuggling. Sand Point is an international port. Having the police chief out of the way would be convenient for a smuggler—I may start checking my Jeep before I get into it.”
“Paranoia isn’t pretty…but watch your back.”
Ben chuckled. “I plan to. I’ve got a lot to live for.”
“Oh? Is there anything we should be aware of?”
“Nope,” he said, pretending ignorance.
“Well, your mother called again last night.” Henry didn’t say anything else, and Ben knew he didn’t want to push.
“I’ll get back to her in a day or two.”
“It would mean a lot if you did.”
Ben wasn’t sure of that, but Kelly had made him realize he should be more forgiving of his parents’ mistakes since he’d made so many of his own. And one of his biggest mistakes was failing to understand that even if his own mother and father had disappointed him, Henry and Gina never had.
Ben said goodbye and locked the material on Frank Stone in his desk. He could see Frank being involved with the murders, and he could even see him writing the threatening letters as a way to bring attention to the Deep Sea novel. But what about the mayor? Did he have anything to do with this?
Maybe.
Phillip had appointed Frank interim police chief and fought to make the position permanent. To this day he resented the City Council’s actions in hiring somebody else and was doing his best to get Frank reinstated.
As for Simon, with the exception of the mayor, nobody had anything negative to say about him. That didn’t mean much since homeless men were largely invisible. Yet, however difficult it was for him to take something on blind faith, Ben did trust Kelly’s judgment.
Ben opened Simon’s case file and gazed at the picture they’d extracted from a parking lot video camera. Harvey Bryant had made enemies from one end of Sand Point to the other, but why kill a homeless man? According to Kelly he’d spent his days sketching pictures of the waterfront. Could he have seen or drawn something he shouldn’t have?
Possibly.
Ben motioned to one of his officers.
“Yes?” Garrett said as he entered. Hired and trained by Henry, he had an air of solid competence.
“I need you to search the docks again, but not just the area where the murders occurred. We’ve never conclusively found where the homeless victim slept. Find it. He was an artist. I want to examine all of his work that we can get hold of. And tell Lasko and Fairmont I want to see them,” Ben said.
“Yes, sir.”
He briefed the detectives when they came in. “I have Garrett searching the docks for Simon’s sketchbooks, but in the meantime, contact the homeless shelt
er and see if he left any there. Then contact local businesses and ask if he ever traded his sketches for food or other goods.”
The two detectives looked more excited than they had for days—there was nothing worse than an investigation gone cold. “We’ll get on it now.”
Ben considered sending an officer up to guard Kelly for the rest of the day, but she was in City Hall. It didn’t seem likely that she was in danger at work, though he would have someone escort her home and keep watch until Henry arrived.
Of course, Kelly wouldn’t like it.
He’d probably get his butt kicked off the couch and have to stake out the house in his Jeep. And he still had to ask for the sketches that Simon had given her. She was sentimental. He might have to sign his name in blood to get his hands on the things.
LATE THAT AFTERNOON the dispatcher stuck her head inside Ben’s office door. “I thought you should know—we got a B and E at Kelly Lawson’s house. Officer Cooper called it in twenty minutes ago. He said you’d asked him to escort her home.”
B and E.
Breaking and entering.
Kelly.
Ben’s pulse slowed to a frozen crawl. “Is Mrs. Lawson all right?”
“Yeah,” Paige said solemnly. “Upset, of course.”
He got his keys from his pocket, his mind churning with questions. The biggest ones being who had broken into Kelly’s home…and why hadn’t she called him herself?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KELLY HELD FRODO, WHO GROWLED steadily at the policemen as they dusted for fingerprints. The loss of privacy was doubled—first by a thief, and second by the investigators. She knew they were just doing their job, but that didn’t make it easier.
“What have you got, Officer Cooper?” someone asked, and she realized it was Ben.
She shifted Frodo, arms aching from the weight of the large cat, and wished she could start the day over and make it come out differently. Someone had systematically gone through her house, throwing things to the floor, not caring what they broke. Most of the closets had been turned out and drawers emptied. It was a waking nightmare that refused to go away.
“Mrrrreow.” Frodo growled louder, a sound as if a swarm of angry bees was coming from his chest, and she blinked. He was warning Ben to keep his distance.
“Let’s put him someplace quiet,” Ben suggested gently. “The activity is too stressful.”
“He’ll make a fuss.”
“We can give it a try.”
In the back of her mind she noted that a litter box, food and water had been moved into the main floor powder room. Ben, she thought as he laid a thick towel down as a temporary cat bed and shut the door in Frodo’s irate face.
There were more questions and the investigators asked her to check her belongings. A few small items had been taken, yet the big things like her computer and television hadn’t been touched. Kids, someone speculated. Still, something didn’t seem right to her.
It was endless.
Ben kept sending her sharp glances, but Kelly was too numb to care. The tension level rose with each piercing feline complaint, and when she couldn’t stand it any longer, one of the officers let Frodo out.
He stalked into the living room and glared universally.
“I got some drops of blood on a book,” a detective called out. “It’s fresh. Man, I love DNA evidence. Maybe the cat nailed our perp. He’s big enough to do some damage.”
Frodo casually licked his paw.
The officers cleaned up the fingerprint powder, fixed the door where the intruder had broken in and gave Kelly the report to sign. Then everyone was gone except Ben and Frodo and the wreckage.
Silently, Kelly started to tidy the mess. A lot would have to be thrown away, some could be repaired and the rest put back in place. She needed to be alone, to process what had happened, but was too tired to object when Ben began working beside her.
BEN HELPED SORT OUT the damage, outraged by the breakin and the deliberate destruction. Yet what was still nagging at him was the fact that Kelly hadn’t contacted him when she’d found her house ransacked. And just as bad, she hadn’t turned to him when he arrived. He’d wanted to comfort and reassure her, but she’d looked at him as if he was a stranger.
Didn’t becoming her lover mean anything?
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked finally, trying to keep the question low-key. There was no telling how a person would react when in shock.
“I didn’t want to bother you.” She picked through another pile of debris and he heard the tinkle of broken glass.
Bother him?
What bother? He was the police chief. But it reminded him of what she’d said before, that when she had called another time, he was too busy.
Ben was ready to demand an explanation when Kelly sank to the floor. He crouched next to her and saw that she held a picture frame between her fingers.
“Please, let it go.”
He tried to release her grip on the shattered glass, appalled by the trickle of blood rolling down the back of her hand. Then he saw what was inside the frame…a photo of Shanna James. A young Shanna, unhardened by the years, wearing the same look of hopeful anticipation that he’d seen in Kelly when they were teenagers.
“Just before the accident she was talking about me going to college,” Kelly whispered. “She didn’t want me to end up working in a roadhouse. The last thing she said was ‘it’s fine for me, but not for my baby.’”
Dear God.
Suddenly Ben remembered a long-ago keg night at his fraternity house, and Kelly’s phone call through the noise telling him about the accident. As soon as he learned she wasn’t seriously hurt, he’d figured life was all right. It was too bad; they’d both had lousy mothers. But all along he’d failed to see the love between Kelly and her mom. He might have been too drunk that night to understand what it meant, but not the next day.
“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “I should have come. I swear I didn’t realize how much she meant to you.”
KELLY SHUDDERED. SEEING her mother’s smile through the shards of glass was like losing her all over again. This picture, in its inexpensive frame, had survived when everything else had fallen away.
And now this was stomped on and broken, as well.
“Momma thought this frame was so pretty.” Kelly swallowed, trying to hold herself together. “I know it’s cheap, but she’d never had anything that was nice. She grew up in foster homes, with no one truly caring about her. She wanted things to be nice for me. She just didn’t know how to do it. But she tried so hard, and all people saw were the clothes and the men.”
Ben eased her fingers from the glass and laid the picture on the bookshelf. With clinical detachment she saw a stream of blood running down her skin. He left and then returned with the first aid kit from the kitchen. Kelly flinched as he dabbed the cut with alcohol. The blood flowed more freely and he pressed a gauze pad to the injury.
“Tell me about Shanna,” he urged. “I want to understand.”
Did he? All at once it seemed terribly important for Ben to appreciate the good things about her mother…but Kelly wasn’t sure he could.
“I…I don’t know my father’s name. Momma just said he was a boy from school. He wanted to be a Marine and they were going to get married when he finished his basic training. Only she didn’t hear from him after he left for Camp Lejeune—even when she wrote that she was pregnant. She waited for him as long as she could, but her foster parents threw her out when she turned eighteen.”
“It must have been terrifying, being pregnant and alone.” Ben applied a second pad of gauze and taped it down. He pushed the first aid kit to one side and pulled her against him.
“She never talked about being scared. Maybe she didn’t want me to feel guilty.”
“Was she from Sand Point originally?”
“No, a little place in Georgia. She came here when a trucker she knew got her a job at the roadhouse. It was on one of his long-haul routes and he gave her
a ride. I think she mostly wanted to get away from the reminders of my father.”
“Surely she was too young to serve drinks.” Ben sounded shocked.
“In the beginning she washed dishes and did odd jobs. They let her sleep in a back room to save money for the hospital bills and stuff. After I was born she would change my diapers and feed me on her breaks. They were decent to us. Nobody was allowed to smoke or curse around me. Momma took it outside, as well. Don’t you remember her smoking on the porch?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“She’d heard about secondhand smoke and didn’t want me exposed.” Kelly gazed at their reflections in the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the deck—the image was fractured, broken by light from different sources. Shanna hadn’t liked Ben much when he was a kid, but what she would think of him today?
Kelly rested her head on Ben’s shoulder. “The roadhouse wasn’t bad, even if my sippie cups were shot glasses and my lullabies were played on a jukebox. The patrons used to bring disposable diapers and toys for me—they’d say it was part of the tip to get her to accept them.”
Ben checked her hand. A little blood had soaked through the bandage, but it wasn’t serious. “Shot glasses and lullabies…that sounds like a country ballad.”
“Don’t knock it. Things only got rough once I started school with kids from families who thought they were better than us. They didn’t want their precious darlings playing with a roadhouse brat.”
“How did you end up loving Sand Point? This town can still be pretty judgmental.”
“It was only a few of the kids and their parents making trouble, and it got better after we moved into the duplex. Then when Henry and Gina came, it was really good. They attended school functions because Momma was usually working at night, and I stopped taking the bus because Henry would drop me on his way to the police station. Any place with Henry and Gina in it has to be okay.”
Ben stroked her hair. “That’s right.”
“Anyway, the talk bothered me, not Momma,” Kelly said. “She didn’t care. She paid her rent on time, put food on the table with money she’d earned herself and never took welfare. That’s what mattered to her. I know she had lots of boyfriends, but they weren’t about a meal ticket. They were about looking for someone who’d care enough to stick around. It’s all she ever wanted.”