Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery)

by Dashofy, Annette

  “Good. Here comes the tow truck.”

  He studied the gray, icy face of what had once been Ted Bassi. How had he come to be way out here on this bitter night in Jerry McBirney’s Buick? Had he and Jerry gotten into a fight and Ted escaped, mortally wounded, in Jerry’s car? And if he hadn’t driven himself, who left him here and why?

  So many questions burned in his mind. Not the least of which was where had McBirney been in the hours after the supervisor’s meeting?

  First things first. He wanted the Buick secured inside the township garage before the weather further ruined any evidence he might find.

  Zoe doubted she’d ever be warm again. Earl blasted the heater inside the ambulance’s cab during the long, treacherous drive from the game lands to the morgue in Brunswick. While the heat managed to penetrate her parka, it failed to chase the chill from her bones. She clamped her gloved hands under her armpits, but her fingers still ached from the cold.

  They wasted no time delivering their charge to the attendant and filling out the paperwork. As soon as Ted’s body was wheeled into the cooler, Zoe bolted for the door.

  In all her years as a paramedic, and more recently as deputy coroner, the worst thing was arriving on scene to discover she knew the patient. Or victim. But she’d never before dealt with the death of a close friend.

  Poor Rose. And the kids.

  “You okay?” Earl asked as he steered out of the parking lot.

  “What do you think?” Zoe snapped.

  “Sorry. Stupid question.”

  She stared out the front window at the fat snowflakes, like a swarm of insects flying into their headlights.

  Had Pete talked to Rose yet? When they’d parted company at the game lands, he had left Seth and Nate Williamson, one of his part-time officers who’d arrived with the tow truck, to secure the crime scene until County arrived. Pete had been on his way to talk to Joe Mendez. But after that, he’d have to notify Ted’s family. His next of kin.

  Zoe’s cell phone rang, and she tugged off her gloves to answer it.

  “Where are you?” Pete’s voice asked.

  “On our way back from the morgue. Have you seen Rose?”

  “I’m heading there next.”

  There was a moment of silence on the line, and Zoe feared they’d been disconnected.

  But then he continued. “I thought you’d like to be there when I talked to her.”

  The word “Yes” came off her tongue before she had a chance to think. “But—I’m still on duty for another five hours or so.”

  Earl never took his eyes off the snow-covered road. “Do what you need to do,” he said. “All things considered, no one’ll say anything about you taking the rest of the night off.”

  If her partner wasn’t married with three kids, she’d have kissed him right then and there. “We’re a good ten, maybe twelve miles from Dillard,” she told Pete, “and we’re making lousy time on these roads.”

  “I’ll meet you next to the old Convenient Mart. Take your time.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Earl eased into the unplowed parking lot of what had been Dillard’s only grocery store. Snow clung to the Real Estate For Sale sign concealing the details of the available retail space. Pete’s SUV sat next to the building.

  Zoe thanked her partner as she stepped out of the ambulance. He waved and pulled out, the tire chains biting into the snow and ice.

  “How about we stop at the house first,” Pete said as Zoe settled into the passenger seat. “Then you can stay with Rose and the kids while I go break the news to Sylvia. I’ll bring her over afterwards.”

  “Sylvia doesn’t know yet?”

  “That’s one reason I kept all communications off the air. She’s manning the radio back at the station.”

  “Oh.” Learning your son was dead over a police radio transmission would be horrific. Not that there was any good way of receiving news like that.

  Pete wheeled the SUV out of the parking lot and coasted down the snow-covered hill, easing around the sharp bend at the bottom. Ted and Rose Bassi’s house sat at the end of a narrow side street. The porch light was on, but otherwise the house was dark.

  “I’m surprised,” Zoe said. “You’d think Rose would be waiting up.” She pictured her friend wearing a hole in the kitchen floor, pacing, wondering where her husband was. A deeper chill ran up her spine. “Something isn’t right.”

  “She probably just fell asleep waiting for Ted to come home.”

  Zoe studied Pete’s face, searching for a sign that he really believed what he said and wasn’t just trying to keep her calm. But he’d been a cop too long to give away his true thoughts.

  Fierce winds drove a swirl of snow into the car as soon as they opened the doors. Zoe pulled her collar closer around her neck and flipped the oversized hood over her head until they stepped onto the porch.

  Pete held out an arm, directing her behind him. With his right hand resting on his sidearm, he pounded on the door with his left.

  She listened for movement—footsteps indicating someone was home. All the time she’d been examining Ted’s body, it had never occurred to her that he might not be the only victim. Had someone killed the entire Bassi family? Had Ted been trying to get help?

  Pete banged on the door again. “Rose,” he called. “It’s Pete Adams. Open up. I need to talk to you.”

  This time a light flicked on behind the closed curtains followed by the thump-thump of feet on the floor. Zoe’s knees went weak with relief.

  The blinds on the door’s window parted and an eyeball appeared between them. Then the deadbolt creaked and clicked and the door was yanked open.

  Instead of Rose, a bleary-eyed Logan stood before them in flannel pajama bottoms that threatened to drop off his narrow hips.

  He rubbed his eyes like a child. “What’s going on?”

  “May we come in?” Pete said.

  “Yeah. Sure. I guess.” He unlatched the storm door and stepped back.

  Zoe followed Pete into what she’d always thought of as a cheery kitchen. “Logan, where’s your mom?”

  The boy sniffed as if he had a cold. “Mom? I guess she’s still over at grandma’s. Why?”

  “Sylvia’s?” Pete asked. She lived two doors over, but spent most of her waking time right here.

  “No. My other grandma. Mom’s mom. Grandma Bert. She’s got the flu, so Mom’s spending the night over there. Do you want me to get my dad?”

  Zoe and Pete exchanged looks.

  Logan sniffed again and glanced around the kitchen before grabbing a paper napkin from the table. “He must be sleeping. I waited for him to get the door when you knocked, but…”

  “No,” Zoe said as the boy turned toward the hall. Then she winced. She’d heard the anguish in her own voice and knew from the look on Logan’s face that he’d heard it, too.

  Pete caught her arm. “Go back out to my car and call Rose,” he said into Zoe’s ear. “Tell her she’s needed at home.” He drew away enough to meet her eye.

  Zoe understood the intense gaze, the unspoken request. Try not to alarm. “Okay.”

  “Good.” He turned to Logan, his tone professional. “Let’s make some coffee while we wait for your mom to get home.”

  The kid was buying none of it. “What’s going on?”

  As Zoe stepped outside, she heard Pete’s soothing voice calming the boy without using words like everything’s all right. It wasn’t.

  She climbed back into the SUV and tugged off her gloves to fish her cell phone out of her pocket. It took a moment for her trembling fingers to locate Mrs. Bertolotti’s number in her cell’s address book.

  On the fourth ring, Rose picked up with a sleep-fogged, “Hello?”

  Words jammed in Zoe’s throat, leaving her choking for the r
ight ones.

  “Hello?” Rose said again. “Is anyone there?”

  “It’s me,” Zoe said, her voice raspy.

  The fog was gone. “What’s wrong?”

  “I—I can’t say on the phone. You need to get home. Now.”

  “Oh my God. Is it Logan?”

  Zoe considered saying no, Logan’s fine. But in her mind she played out the rest of the conversation. Rose would ask about Allison. And then Ted. “Just come home.” Zoe hung up before her friend had a chance to ask anything else. Try not to alarm. Well, she’d seriously failed at that one.

  Now what? Should she stay in Pete’s vehicle and wait for Rose? Or should she go inside and try to avoid a teenaged boy’s inquisition? She could see Pete through the kitchen window. Filling the coffee pot from the sink, she presumed. Calm. Professional. In control. A shadow swept behind him. Logan. Pete would be giving him tasks to do to keep him occupied.

  If she joined them, the balance of composure Pete was establishing would crumble into panic, concern, and frantic questions. No, she should stay right where she was.

  Minutes passed. Zoe shoved her fists deeper into her pockets and slouched inside her coat, like a turtle in its shell hiding from the world. She closed her eyes, trying to block out reality, but Ted’s battered face floated behind her eyelids. Blinking away the vision, she caught the sweep of headlights approaching from the rear of the police SUV and twisted in her seat. The car pulled up behind her.

  Rose.

  Zoe bounded from Pete’s car and intercepted her friend as she staggered toward the sidewalk to her house.

  “Zoe? What the hell’s going on? Why’s Pete here? What’s happened?” Rose’s voice faltered.

  Maybe Zoe should have waited inside with Pete and Logan. She wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Let’s go in the house.”

  Rose shook her off. “No. Tell me now. What’s happened to my kids?”

  A lump wedged in Zoe’s throat. “The kids are fine. Pete’s in there with Logan now.”

  “Then what?” Rose’s gaze bored into hers.

  “It’s Ted.”

  Tears filled Rose’s green eyes. “How bad is it? Is he…”

  Zoe couldn’t speak the words. He’s dead refused to pass her lips.

  It didn’t matter. Rose knew. Her wail pierced the snowy night’s silence.

  FOUR

  The scream jolted Pete into full alert. “Stay back,” he barked at Logan. Two strides carried him to the door. He fingered his sidearm, ready to snap it free from the holster. With the other hand, he edged aside the curtain hanging on the door’s window. Outside, two women knelt in the snow at the end of the sidewalk. Zoe had her arms around Rose. He relaxed his stance.

  “What is it?” Logan asked.

  Pete signaled him with a raised closed fist, but then remembered the kid didn’t know what that meant. “Stay here. Keep an eye on the coffee.” He snatched his coat from the back of the chair where he’d draped it and stepped out onto the porch.

  Zoe looked up at him, panic in her eyes. Rose had collapsed, and Zoe was all that kept her from going face-down in the snow. Pete approached them, thinking Rose had passed out, but her keening told him otherwise. He dropped to his knees beside them.

  “I should have let you break the news,” Zoe whispered. Her face was damp with tears.

  “Yes. You should have,” he said, but kept his voice gentle. She didn’t need to be chastised right now.

  He scooped Rose up in his arms and carried her back to the house with Zoe trudging behind him.

  What the hell was the kid going to do when he saw his mother in hysterics? So much for keeping everything low key. But to Pete’s surprise, Rose thumped him on the shoulder when they reached the stoop.

  “Put me down. I can’t have my kids seeing me like this.”

  Atta girl, Rose. He lowered her to her feet, and she straightened to her full height, which barely reached five feet.

  She swiped her arm across her face and sniffed a couple of times. “Was it a traffic accident? What happened to him?”

  “We’re not sure what happened just yet. I need you to answer some questions for me.”

  Rose gave him a quick scowl. “Are you sure it was Ted? Maybe there’s been some mistake.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rose. There’s no mistake.”

  She looked past him to Zoe. He didn’t break eye contact with her to see Zoe’s reaction, but she obviously backed him up. Rose’s shoulders slumped. “I have to talk to my kids.”

  As they stepped into the kitchen, Logan launched out of his chair and caught his mother by her arms. “Mom, what’s going on? No one will tell me anything.”

  “In a minute. Where’s your sister?”

  “Upstairs asleep.”

  Rose eyed Pete. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like a few minutes alone with them.”

  “Absolutely. Take all the time you need.”

  She led her son into the darkened living room, and they disappeared down the hall.

  Pete turned to face Zoe. Her face was streaked with tear-smudged mascara, and she hugged herself as if she were still out in the blizzard.

  “Now what?” she said.

  “Now we have coffee. It’s going to be a long night.”

  They sat across from each other at the kitchen table for almost a half an hour, nursing their respective mugs of caffeine and not saying a word. Finally Rose shuffled into the room followed by Logan, and the Goth daughter…what was her name? Madison? Addison? Allison? Yes, that was it. Allison.

  “Okay, Pete,” Rose said, “I want to know exactly what happened.”

  “Is there someplace we can talk alone?”

  He left Zoe in the kitchen with the kids and followed Rose down the hall to a small home office. Not much larger than a walk-in closet, the room contained two desks, two chairs, and two laptops. Shelves over one of them held assorted fire department memorabilia. That would be Ted’s. The other desk was cluttered with real estate flyers. Pete had noticed Rose’s name on several property for sale signs around the area.

  Sinking into one of the chairs, she covered her face with her hands.

  Pete removed his notebook and pen from his coat pocket. “I know this is lousy timing, but I need to ask you a few questions.”

  She dropped her hands into her lap. “First, I need to know what happened. Was it a car accident or not?”

  “I’m hoping you can help me figure out the answer to that.” He went through the usual questions, and she responded without hesitation. The last time she’d seen Ted was when they parted company after the supervisors’ meeting around a quarter after eight. He was still pretty steamed and said he was going home. She was going to check on her mom who’d been ill.

  “You were there all evening?”

  “Yeah. Mom’s flu seems worse. I was afraid she’d be too weak to get to the phone to call me if she needed help.”

  “Did Ted know you were staying?”

  “I called the house, but got the machine. I figured Ted was in the shower.”

  “What time was that?”

  “I dunno. About nine-thirty, I guess.” Rose’s voice broke into a sob. “What’s this all got to do with what happened to Ted?”

  All of her answers would be easy enough to confirm. Time to shift to the difficult questions. “I need you to think hard about this,” Pete said. “Is there any reason at all that Ted would be driving Jerry McBirney’s car?”

  Rose blanched. “What?”

  He waited for her to process his question.

  “What the hell does Jerry McBirney have to do with this?” Her eyes shifted from Pete to the empty chair at Ted’s desk and back to Pete. “Did they get into a fight? Did—did Jerry kill—” />
  “We don’t know what happened yet. The car, Rose. Can you think of why Ted might be driving it?”

  “No!”

  “Did he have access to McBirney’s keys?”

  “No! Pete. What the hell is going on?”

  Zoe sat in Ted and Rose’s living room in one of the camel-back chairs. She had offered to make hot chocolate or even coffee for the kids, but was met with sullen rejection.

  Logan had changed into baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. He paced the floor in his bare feet with one fist pressed to his mouth, attempting to tough it out, fighting tears that he was too old to shed. She longed to hug the boy she’d known his entire life and tell him everything would be okay. But she knew it wouldn’t.

  Slumped on the couch, Allison sat catty-corner from Zoe. Still wearing her pale blue pajamas, the girl was doing a great impersonation of a zombie. How was a fifteen-year-old supposed to react to the shock of losing her dad? Allison apparently chose to internalize her grief.

  Zoe moved closer to Allison. What should she do? Pull her into a hug? Try to get her to talk? Try to get her mind off this terrible night?

  She opted for the latter. “Hey, kiddo. You haven’t called me to go riding in a while.”

  Without looking at her, Allison shrugged.

  Zoe reached out to place a hand on her knee, but Allison pulled away, withdrawing into the seated equivalent of the fetal position.

  Zoe sighed. She’d always been so close to these kids. Watching them grow into happy, feisty teens had been a blessing. Watching them agonize over Ted’s death was torture.

  The sound of footsteps coming from the hall drew her attention. Rose, looking as if she’d aged twenty years, followed Pete into the living room.

  “You stay with them,” Pete told Zoe. “I’m going to the station to talk to Sylvia.”

  “Grandma?” Logan stopped his pacing. “I should go with you.”

  “Thanks, but you’re needed here.” Pete clapped him on the arm. “Take care of your mother and your sister.” He brushed passed Zoe, through the kitchen, and was gone.