Jake shrugged. On the whole, he'd rather think about Gage's death than Joe's. Still, it wasn't like they were learning anything new.
"Sure. We'll meet back here tomorrow."
Vince shook his head. "No, we will not. Tomorrow morning I am sleeping in. Then I'm going to run some personal errands—like buying groceries so I don't have to eat junk food all the time. I'll see you tomorrow evening at the funeral home. If something suggests itself, or we get news from the lab, we can get back to work on Sunday. After church. My mother is relying on me for a ride. She likes to complain to me about the state of my sister's soul since she married a Protestant."
Jake nodded. He probably had enough personal and business housekeeping to keep him busy Saturday. Even church sounded like a good idea. He hadn't been in a long time.
It was a mild evening, a nice change from the cold snap they had been experiencing. Nice evening for a walk. Riverside Park seemed to call him. He listened, picking up the trail running between the Court House and the Central Library, then past the Arts Centre. Quite a few people were out, power-walking for exercise, strolling after dinner, or just using the park as a shortcut as they travelled from point A to B. Once the trail crossed the river and the railroad tracks, Jake found himself alone. He passed a man walking his dog, crossed paths with a jogger, then nobody.
Without distractions, the inevitable question came back to haunt him. What was he going to do now Joe was gone? He knew the terms of Joe's will. Once the estate was settled, he would own half of Garrett Investigations and Kate Garrett would hold the other half. What would she expect for her half? A cut of the profits? The business didn't have much in the way of profits. Anything extra had to be banked against the inevitable periods when there were no new jobs and the revenue dried up. Should he hire another detective? Could he afford to?
Jake wasn't worried about the management of the business. Joe had sloughed off most of the administration tasks on him already. He could keep the books well enough to hand over the reports to the accountant every month. The part making him nervous was finding new clients. It wasn't like there was a lot of walk-in trade. Not like the movies. Most of their work came from insurance companies and there was a lot of competition. That was Joe's area of expertise. Joe knew how to court clients and contacts. Everyone knew Joe. Most people forgot Jake after meeting him.
What was Kate Garrett going to say when he had a bad month? A bad year? Would he even be able to keep the company afloat? What did she expect of him? And what did he do ten years ago to piss her off so much?
The river and the trail curved toward the central north-south artery. He could have followed the trail for miles as it wound west, then south, then west again. He certainly had the stamina. What he didn't have was the ability to push aside these nagging thoughts about what the future would bring. The empty trail would only give his doubts more scope. Instead, he headed up the avenue toward the Crossroads Tavern.
According to the old tintype prints on the walls, and accompanying text supplied by the city museum, the Crossroads was built on the remnants of an old posting inn. It was at the junction of two streets that had been, before the freeway, important highways. It was now one of the favourite hangouts of the more philosophical students from the university—those that preferred to talk while they got drunk, rather than dance or shout at sports matches. After a couple of beers, Jake found himself in the middle of an incoherent argument about geopolitics and decided it was time to move on.
His next stop was the Chooch. It was named for its proximity to the train station and the quality of its alcohol. The Chooch was the home of cheap drinks and obnoxious drunks. Neither appealed to Jake for very long.
The White Horse drew him in next. He and Joe used to go there for a pub lunch and a couple of beers on quiet days. It was just a block from the office. One of the oldest establishments in the city, its rooms were still marked "Gentlemen Only" and "Ladies and Escorts," though, obviously, the designations were no longer enforced. Heading for the Public Room (Gentlemen Only), Jake settled in to get thoroughly drunk. Two boiler-makers later, he decided his heavy drinking days were over.
Wandering down the street, he weighed the cost of a taxi against the near-certainty that a bus ride would make him nauseous. Walking home was out. His legs were starting to feel leaden. Crashing at the office was an attractive alternative. It was close and he was tired.
He marked his target visually. There was a light shining from the office of Garrett Investigations. It was Jake's beacon and he homed in on it.
27
Kate only stayed home long enough to change and pack a few snacks and casual clothes in a bag. Then she headed downtown to the office of Garrett Investigations.
She surmised, correctly as it turned out, that Carmedy wouldn't be in the office. He and Valerio would be out investigating, or at headquarters, and she would have the place to herself for the rest of the afternoon. She also guessed, incorrectly as it turned out, that Carmedy would go to the office after leaving headquarters. Her plan was to sort out the information she had gathered, see if there were any obvious holes in her theory, then discuss the case with Carmedy. Not only the case, they could discuss the future. After all, she was his partner now.
Kate wasn't too sure the partnership was viable. Obviously, it was what her father intended, so it was worth a try. The first step was finding out what had happened ten years ago that put them on such bad footing.
She didn't know.
When they first met, she rather liked him. He was good looking in an unfinished sort of way. A bit of a geek, he possessed the worst pick-up lines in history. She felt like Lois Lane meeting Clark Kent and wondered if there was a Superman hidden under those khaki clothes. The second time they met, he acted like a jerk. It was 'Miss Kate this' and 'Miss Kate that', as though she were some spoiled debutante. She wanted to give him a slap.
The next time they met, it was Yuletide at the Thorsens. Carmedy continued acting as though she was a spoiled child, even though he barely knew her. Maggie tried to break the ice between them. The chief seemed uncomfortable with the situation. Her father acted as though nothing was amiss, but it was only an act. She could tell something was up.
"I want you two to get along," he said. "Jake doesn't have family to go to this year. Make him feel welcome."
But not too welcome was unsaid and yet understood.
Kate decided if her father wanted to make Carmedy his new protégée, she would let him. When she knew Carmedy was going to be at a function, she made excuses to absent herself. It wasn't difficult. With course work and theatre, she didn't have a lot of extra time. In retrospect, she wondered if she shouldn't have made a bit more effort to get to know the man. At the time, she couldn't imagine him sticking around for long.
Being brutally honest with herself, Kate had to admit that while she didn't know what the initial problem was, the reason she and Carmedy continued to be so prickly around each other was habit. If they were going to work together, it was a habit they had to break.
So, Kate settled in at her father's desk and arranged it to suit her needs. She plugged her notebook into his computer terminal and downloaded all the posted information pertaining to the Eldridge, Gage, Proctor and Rossini cases. This included interview transcripts, legal statements, lists of evidence gathered, forensic reports to date and supporting documents. While the information percolated, she brewed a pot of coffee. Both were ready at about the same time. She poured herself a mug of dark roast and started reading and making notes.
At five, she called down to the Helios and ordered take-out. When it was time to pick up her meal, she took the stairs to get the exercise. After that, she made a point of stretching every hour. Time passed and still no Carmedy.
Finally I want to see him and he isn't around. Figures.
Still, she kept working. Eventually, she dozed off reading a document on drug interactions. She woke an hour or so later when the office security system told her someone had ent
ered their lobby.
It was a little like deja vu, except that she was viewing the scene from the outside. It was only a few days ago she stepped off the elevator and pulled her sidearm because she knew someone was there. This time it was Carmedy pulling his weapon—or so she assumed. He had turned off the lights. Any moment now, he'd throw himself through the door and try to shoot her.
Just in time, she remembered the lock override control. With it on, Carmedy's thumb print couldn't open the door. She heard him push at the door. He'd kick it in next. Just as he made contact, Kate released the override and the latch. She tried not to laugh as he fell through the door, and was duly impressed when he popped back up, using his desk as a shield.
"Don't shoot," she said, raising her hands. "It's Kate Garrett. Sorry about the door, I just didn't want to be mistaken for a burglar."
He stood, an assault rifle in his hands.
Where the hell had that come from?
"What the hell are you doing here?" He looked around the room as if she might be hiding accomplices.
"I was working."
"Why here?"
Kate paused. His tone set her back up. The familiar irritation welled up. She tamped it down if for no other reason than he'd been drinking and one of them had to be responsible. "I could say, why not here. I have as much right to be here as you do. Setting aside the terms of my father's will, which makes you and I full partners, I am one of his executors and I was a partner before he died."
"A silent partner."
"Not silent anymore."
Carmedy opened his mouth, then closed it.
Not too drunk, she thought.
"Can you put that rifle down?" she said, slowly lowering her hands. "Where did you get it? It wasn't on you when you stepped off the elevator."
"I keep it in a compartment under my desk…where only I can get it." He made the rifle safe and laid it carefully on his desk. "I would have expected you to let me know before you made yourself at home."
It was a good point completely undermined by a loud, smelly belch.
Laughter, not anger, had to be suppressed this time. "Why don't you go to bed? You can use Dad's place, or I'll make up the couch across the hall."
Carmedy let out another belch. "Couch. No need to make it up." He waved her off and staggered toward the interior door leading to the other half of the floor.
On and off, her father tried to lease the extra space. Garrett Investigations didn't need it. No company that moved in lasted more than a few months, either because they moved on or went out of business.
The most spectacular failure was a marketing company. When they went bankrupt, Joe took the furnishing in lieu of back rent. He sold off most of the pieces, but kept the conference table and chairs, the shelving in the storage room and a couch that converted to a bed. With an adjacent washroom, it made a good place to crash.
Her father had gone through a heavy drinking phase and Kate had learned a few tricks from him and David about staving off a hangover. Despite being waved off, she mixed a cocktail using her father's vitamin tonic, warm milk and vanilla syrup for taste. She took the mug and a bottle of water to Carmedy, tapping gently at the door before entering. She found him on the edge of the couch, head in hands, heaving over the waste basket. Fortunately, it had a liner. Kate waited until he was done and swapped out the bag with a clean one.
"I don't get it," he said, hoarse from retching. "I used to drink a hell of a lot more than I did tonight."
"Where did you go?"
"White Horse, Chooch, someplace else…"
She whistled. "You're lucky you're just throwing up. The hooch at the Chooch has been known to put heavy drinkers in hospital. There's a reason they sell so cheap."
"I thought that was just urban legend. What's in the mug?"
"Something you can't handle yet," she said. "Just hold on a moment, okay?"
The washroom was equipped with useful items like seltzer, anti-nausea medication, pain medication and bandage strips. She mixed up a glass of bicarbonate of soda and water, and pocketed the bottle of acetaminophen.
"Drink this," she said, handing him the seltzer.
He did and immediately threw up again. She refilled the glass with bottled water, then told him to rinse and spit, then sip. He followed her directions. She passed him of a couple of painkillers and he swallowed them without question.
"When you're up to it, the warm milk will help, too," she assured him, sitting down beside him. "You can drink it while I make up the bed for you."
"You don't have to."
"I know, but can you think of a better goodwill gesture?"
He looked up at her and forced a smile.
"No, not really."
Eventually, Carmedy went to the washroom. Kate changed the bag again and started working on the bed. It was a one of those semi-automatic beds that unfolded from the middle. It was already made up with clean sheets and only needed pillows and a comforter. Kate took care of that in time for Carmedy to emerge, bare from the waist up, looking more human again.
"What did you give me, by the way?"
"Just acetaminophen and the bi-carb, of course."
"How about something for nausea? I still feel pretty punk."
"Stay away from the Gravol. It doesn't mix well with alcohol. Just think of Felix Proctor."
"Right." He shuddered
"By the way, the milk just has a slug of B-vitamin tonic and a dash of vanilla, in case you were wondering."
He pulled a face. "What? You think I don't trust you? I was just asking. Of course," he added, "Delano Gage trusted whoever poisoned him."
Kate shrugged. "Maybe not. Maybe he just didn't expect his murderer to want him dead. I have an idea about that. It's the main reason I came here to work, so I could run it by you."
"Why me?"
"I told you," she said, giving him a crooked grin. "We're partners now."
28
Saturday November 24
The last thought Jake had before falling asleep was of Kate. It wasn't friendly.
Aggravating bloody woman. She drops a bombshell, then insisting he isn't up to discussing it, walks out. The worst part was she was right. Between lack of sleep, stress and bad liquor, he wasn't up for much except sleep. So, he crawled between the clean sheets and gave in to the inevitable.
Despite the lack of natural light, Jake woke at dawn. It was a habit started by growing up on a farm and ingrained by years in the military. He didn't need to see the sun, he just knew when it was rising and rose with it. After satisfying his most immediate needs, he headed back through the main office and up to Joe's flat to make use of the shower. He was still feeling a bit off. This was his only excuse for not picking up the clues earlier. Instead, he was surprised to find Kate Garrett in her father's bed, one shapely leg poking out from the covers and hugging a pillow in her sleep.
"Oops."
"Hmm?"
He was impressed. She went from zero to sixty in a couple of seconds.
Sitting up, holding the covers with one hand as the other reached for something under one pillow. Meanwhile, Jake found himself assessing her bare shoulders and the line of her back. He had to force himself not to stare.
"Right," she said. "You want a shower. Go ahead. I'll have mine later."
Then she lay down again, tucked herself up and closed her eyes. He wasn't sure whether to be offended or honoured by her lack of concern.
Probably thinks of you as an uncle, he thought, catching his image in the bathroom mirror. Even for a man with his usual lack of vanity, the sight was daunting. Fortunately a hot shower, vigorous scrubbing and a close shave repaired most of the last night's damage.
When he re-entered the bedroom, clean and fully awake, Kate seemed to have gone back to sleep. He was a little disappointed that she was fully covered. As he quietly made his way across the bedroom, she lifted her head.
"Don't suppose you're any good at making breakfast, are you?"
He was, but the
re was no food in Joe's fridge. There was orange juice, so he poured that and made a pot of coffee. Then he made a phone call. By the time Kate emerged, showered, dressed and ready for the world, he had the table set and a breakfast platter for two, ordered from the Helios, sitting between the place settings.
"I wasn't sure what you would like, so I order the grill," he said, removing the platter lid with a flourish. "Bacon, liver, sausage and eggs, with mushrooms, tomatoes, hash browns. Plus," he added, stepping aside to reveal another platter, "Oatmeal scones and applesauce to absorb the fats."
"Big breakfast," Kate said, sounding awed.
Jake puffed himself up. "When I was a recruit, I could have eaten all this myself."
She grinned. "I believe you. According to family legend, my grandfather would have eaten all that washed down with a quart of milk. I thought they were exaggerating until I went to the academy." She took a deep breath. "Smells great. Shall we start?"
Jake waited for Kate to sit, then poured the coffee while she served herself food. She had a respectable appetite, he noticed, and she took a bit of everything.
"You eat this every day?" she asked after trying a bite of the liver.
"Joe and I used to start our week with this breakfast every Monday morning. The rest of the week, I stick to oat bran and grapefruit juice. You?"
"Whatever I can get my hands on. Sometimes my roommate gets ambitious and makes cinnamon buns or corn bread. Saturdays I meet, that is I used to meet my Dad for breakfast."
"The one date he would never break," Jake said, nodding. "I know. Tell me something. Am I the reason you stopped going to the Thorsen's at Yuletide?"
She hesitated. She didn't look comfortable with the question.
No surprise there, he thought. Would she answer?
The silence lengthened.
Finally, sounding as though she was picking her words as she went, "I stopped for Dad's sake. He said you didn't have family to go to. He seemed to want to make you part of his."
Deadly Legacy (A Carmedy & Garrett Mystery) Page 17