Foxy Roxy

by Nancy Martin

  “Some archaeologist dug it up on a Greek island a couple of years ago. At least, that’s what it says here.”

  “Had it originated on that island? Or had it been made elsewhere and stolen? Moved to that location?”

  Sage shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought you’d know that kind of stuff. How much do you think it’s worth?”

  “It’s priceless. That’s why it belongs to its homeland.”

  “But if it wasn’t going back to its homeland,” Sage insisted. “How much?”

  “Depends on the provenance,” Arden said. “If you can prove its origin—”

  “Here we go again,” Sage said with a grin.

  Arden’s face got warm. “What I’m saying is, if it was legally removed from a licensed dig, it’s more likely to find a legitimate home for a lot of money. But if it was looted—dug up and stolen, then smuggled somewhere, London or New York, say—you’d be dealing in the black market, where the prices vary.”

  Sage looked interested. “There’s a black market?”

  “Of course. Collectors who don’t care about how they acquire their pieces drive a thriving black market now. Their money is incentive for looters to keep digging and stealing important antiquities. It’s very cutthroat. People have died.”

  “Died? Really?”

  “We’re talking huge sums of money.” Arden thought fleetingly of her uncle Julius. Maybe he died because of his foolishness with women, but he could just have easily been killed for art.

  “Wow,” Sage said, frowning.

  “The commercial market for ancient objects should be curtailed. At least, that’s my view.”

  Sage reached for the cup in front of her. “Cool.”

  Arden’s buzz was definitely wearing down now. She wondered if the coffee shop had a bathroom she could slip into for a quick bump. Just a little one. She felt outgunned by Sage, who was only a kid, really. But a kid who was very observant.

  Kiryn returned with two more cups and a sugar cube, which she fed to the dog. Arden accepted one cup and sipped the hot liquid. It was very soothing, she decided. But she didn’t need soothing right now. She needed zing.

  Sage’s phone began to play the Darth Vader music again.

  Kiryn giggled. “Your mom’s relentless.”

  Sage laughed ruefully. “What did I do to deserve this?”

  Arden watched the two teenagers. What had happened to all the smart girls in her classes at school? Had they outsmarted her then, too? Only she hadn’t realized it? Arden wondered if maybe she’d been one of those people who peaked in high school. Or in a dorm room at Brown. And now a lot of other forces seemed poised to overwhelm her.

  Sage said, “You okay, Arden?”

  Arden snapped back to the present. “Sure, why?”

  “You looked kinda—I don’t know.”

  Arden pretended to check her watch. “Wow. Look at the time. Is there anything else you needed to know? Because I should get going.”

  Sage and Kiryn exchanged a glance, and Arden worried. She’d missed a point somewhere. Her meds were fading. She needed something to help her think straight.

  “Sure, we don’t want to keep you,” Sage said. “But can I call you again sometime? If, you know, I need more information?”

  “Okay.” Arden tried to wrangle Samson. The dog had wrapped his leash around Sage’s chair. “If I’m still in town. I just—I need to get away right now. I mean, I need to get home. To feed the dog.”

  “Need any help? With Samson, I mean?”

  Arden let Sage coax Samson into the backseat of the SUV. Then she helped Arden into the driver’s seat, too.

  The two tall girls stood on the sidewalk and waved good-bye.

  Arden drove away. She wasn’t sure where. Next time she talked to Sage, she’d write a script for herself ahead of time. To ask the right questions. Right now, all she knew was that she’d failed to learn anything useful to deflect Tiki and the Ministry of Antiquities.

  20

  On her way to face Kaylee about witnessing more than just the murder of her boyfriend, Roxy tried phoning Henry Paxton. He didn’t answer his cell phone, so she left a voice mail.

  “I think you have something of mine, Paxton. My necklace? Did you take it to prove something, you slippery son of a bitch?”

  Nooch waited until she hung up before saying, “You’re cussing again.”

  “I’ll go to confession.”

  Roxy parked the truck in an open space just a few doors down from her current crash pad. Evening light had just started to slant over the roofs of the tightly packed houses, which meant it would be dark in a few minutes.

  “Stay here,” she said to Nooch. She didn’t want him to hear the talk she intended to have with Kaylee. “I’ll be back soon.”

  She got out onto the sidewalk. A second later, somebody opened the driver’s door of the parked car in front of her. Since she’d been approached by would-be muggers a couple of times, Roxy reached into the open door of her truck and put her hand on her pry bar. Then Zack Cleary got out of the car.

  Roxy considered using the pry bar on her daughter’s boyfriend, then decided against it. Nooch would disapprove. She tossed it back into the truck. “What are you doing here?”

  Rooney jumped out and ran over to Zack, barking like he wanted a hunk of fresh meat, pronto.

  Zack had good instincts. He jumped up onto the trunk of his car. “Hey, call off your dog!”

  Roxy kind of liked seeing Zack on the run. Served him right, the little horndog. “He’s just being friendly. Aren’t you in the wrong neighborhood?”

  Zack had automatically covered his family jewels and now sheepishly moved his hands away. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  “Don’t you have a leash for that animal?”

  Roxy whistled, and Rooney reluctantly sat at Roxy’s feet, panting.

  Zack carefully climbed down to the sidewalk. There, he managed to regain his cocky cool. “You’re looking good, Mrs. A. As always.”

  “I hereby give you permission to stop calling me Mrs. A. I’m not married.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Call me Roxy.”

  “Okay. Roxy.” He bobbed his head nervously. “Thanks.”

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Oh, Sage showed me once. We were driving around, you know, and she showed me the house you’re fixing up. I thought I’d try to catch you here.”

  Although the afternoon light had faded, Roxy finally noticed that Zack’s face was swollen. The beginnings of a black eye showed purple along his cheekbone.

  Roxy stepped closer to take a look. “What happened to you?”

  Zack reached to touch the bruise gingerly. “This? Another guy in my class and I had a disagreement. Nothing important.”

  “Does he look worse than you?”

  Zack allowed a grin. “The sergeant broke us up before any real damage was done.”

  “The police academy allows fistfights?”

  “It was no big deal. We just got a little hot. We’ll get a lecture tomorrow. They discourage losing your temper at the police academy. No swearing, either.”

  “That’s a fucking tough gig,” Roxy said.

  Zack laughed. “Yeah, it is.”

  “Don’t disappoint your daddy.”

  His face sobered up. “No, I won’t.”

  “What do you want with me?”

  Zack glanced up the street, as if gathering his courage. “I guess I need your help. Is there someplace—? Could we go inside? There’s something wrong with Sage all of a sudden. She’s—I don’t know. Weird.”

  “And you think I have some insight?”

  He started to look genuinely unhappy. “I don’t know. I thought I’d ask. You know. For advice.”

  It was Roxy’s turn to laugh, but she kept it short. “Sure, tiger. Let’s go inside. I’ll give you a beer. Are you old enough for a beer?”

  “Why not?”

  Roo
ney took off and dashed up the sidewalk toward the house. Zack fell into step with Roxy, matching her long strides. He said, “This is a kind of scary neighborhood. You okay with that?”

  “Sage won’t be living here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “No, I wasn’t asking.”

  “Isn’t she a little young for you?”

  The question startled him. “Sage? Hey, no, we’re not really, you know, together. Like a couple or anything. But if we were, she’s—well, she seems older than she is. Older than high school, I mean. She’s smart.”

  “Maybe too smart for you?”

  “I’m no dummy,” he shot back.

  “So what are you saying? You don’t want to be with my daughter?”

  “Sure, I do! I mean, you know, as friends.”

  Roxy stopped and faced him. “Friends with benefits?”

  “What? No, I— Look, I like Sage. But she’s mad at me or something. I was hoping you could tell me how to make her happy.”

  “Happy?” Roxy repeated. “Happy?”

  “Yeah, you know. Like, do I buy her some jewelry, maybe?”

  “That hasn’t been my experience, tiger.”

  “Well, what has?”

  Rooney barked and dug at the front door.

  “Cut that out,” Roxy commanded from the sidewalk. Then she planted a finger on Zack’s chest. “Listen, kid, you don’t want to know what would make me happy right now. But Sage? She’s going places. And if she doesn’t get anchored down by some jagoff who only thinks with what he keeps in his pants, she’s going farther in this world than either one of us. Know what I’m saying?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m saying what would make me happy is you keeping your distance from my daughter.”

  “But—”

  Somehow, Rooney managed to push the front door open with his nose, and he disappeared into the house.

  The open door surprised her. Roxy went up the stoop in one leap, forgetting about securing Sage’s future away from Zack. “That silly chick left the door unlocked?”

  “What chick?” Zack asked.

  They could hear the dog barking inside. Roxy pushed the door the rest of the way open and went into the house. Zack hesitated behind her.

  “Kaylee!” Roxy shouted.

  The pitch of Rooney’s barking suddenly changed. Roxy heard it and felt all her nerves contract. She went into the hallway of the empty house. A breeze hit her in the face, coming from the kitchen. Someone had left the back door wide open.

  A lamp lay on the living room floor, casting a glare at a crazy angle.

  “Oh, shit.” Zack sounded like a little boy.

  Roxy headed for the stairs, and when she turned the corner she could see Kaylee’s shoe on the landing. Above it, Kaylee’s bare foot.

  Rooney whined. When Roxy arrived on the landing, she found him sniffing Kaylee’s hair.

  The dog had tracked her blood on the staircase. The girl lay sprawled on her back, her legs awkward, one arm bent beneath her.

  “Oh, shit,” Zack said again. He had followed Roxy up the stairs, but he suddenly turned and stumbled back downward. When he arrived in the living room, he kept going out the front door. Roxy could hear him gagging on the stoop.

  Someone had chased Kaylee, she could see. She had run up the stairs to escape, but her attacker had grabbed her dress and dragged her down. She’d hit her head on the staircase—the blood was everywhere. She had probably fought with whoever it was. It looked as if one of her front teeth was missing in her half-open mouth. Roxy guessed by the crooked angle of her arm that it was broken.

  And she’d been shot. The bullet had torn into her throat and exploded out the back of her head. The new plaster above her was splattered with something gruesome. The pillow from the bed lay on the upper stairs, the case shredded as if the shooter had wrapped the pillow around his gun to muffle the noise.

  Roxy called Rooney to her, and the dog obeyed. Together, they sat down on the lower portion of the staircase. Roxy hugged Rooney, and he snuggled close. Roxy couldn’t quite catch her breath.

  When Zack staggered back inside, wide-eyed and catching his balance on the newel, Roxy pulled out her cell phone and called 911.

  21

  Bug Duffy wasn’t the first cop to arrive, but when he did show up, he told Nooch to stay in the truck and invited Roxy to sit in the front seat of his squad car for a while. While he talked to his buddies, Roxy watched the Channel 2 people set up their remote. The on-camera girl wore a fluffy coat and a ludicrous amount of makeup. She joked around with her cameraman, then sobered up when the big lights came on, and she did her report in front of the police grimly going about their business.

  Roxy thought about getting out of the car to throw up on the reporter’s shoes, but she talked herself out of it.

  After half an hour, Bug returned to the car. He’d given up his crutches in favor of a cane. He got in behind the wheel even though he hadn’t been the one who drove.

  “What a mess,” he said to Roxy.

  “In so many ways.”

  The sun had disappeared and a soft rain began to fall, speckling the windshield with tiny droplets that caught the streetlight. More fickle autumn weather. The Channel 2 girl opened a striped golf umbrella and lit a cigarette, clearly intending to spend some time hunkered down at the crime scene.

  Bug’s car was cold, and Roxy had to concentrate to quell her shivering.

  “You okay?” Bug asked.

  “I’m better off than Kaylee.”

  Bug nodded and pulled a notebook from his pocket. He seemed glad not to have to cope with an emotional female, so Roxy marshaled her feelings.

  Playing the unflappable cop, he said, “You want to tell me what she was doing at your place?”

  “I already explained to the officers who got here first. And to the Homicide cop.”

  “Well, tell me, too, and then we’ll all know.”

  It was routine, she knew, so she didn’t make a fuss although the exasperation of it was pressing behind her eyes. Roxy told him most of the truth—including what she knew about Kaylee being shot at the day before.

  “You think it was the Delaney brothers who did that?” Bug asked, making it obvious that he’d already gotten the gist of things from his colleagues.

  “I don’t trust a lot of what the Delaneys have to say, but yeah, I think they were paid to intimidate Kaylee.”

  “Paid by a dead man?”

  “That part I will quibble with.”

  “So they lied to you?”

  “What a surprise, huh?” It was hard to say, but Roxy blurted it out. “Look, Bug, you should know I took a gun away from the Delaneys.”

  Bug didn’t seem surprised. “Where is it?”

  “Back at my yard. In my desk drawer.”

  “We’re going to need that, like, an hour ago.”

  Roxy handed him two keys off her ring—one for the office door, the other for the drawer.

  He took them. “We sent a car around to pick up the Delaneys,” he said. “Those two shouldn’t be on the street to begin with. But they’re not anywhere we can find them right now. Know where they might hang out?”

  “They’re not my best friends.”

  “We’ll keep looking. Shouldn’t be hard to find a pair of idiots like those two.” Bug craned around in the seat to look out the back window. “Where’s Nooch?”

  Although he’d seen where Nooch was, Roxy said unnecessarily, “Waiting in my truck. He’s got an armed guard.”

  “Where’s he been all day?”

  “With you guys and Marvin. I picked him up just an hour ago.”

  “What about the Cleary kid?”

  “He has nothing to do with any of this. He was here to see me. He’s dating my daughter.”

  “Well, thank God for small favors. I don’t have to tell the chief his kid is in trouble.” Then Bug grinned fleetingly. “Abruzzos and Clearys. There’s a match made in heaven.”

  From outsi
de the car, a man approached Bug’s window and knocked with one knuckle. Bug put the window down, revealing a uniformed cop who said, “Marx says to remind you they have to cut Hyde loose in four hours.”

  Bug, the back of his head to Roxy, made a cutting motion across his throat with his thumb, but said, “Hey, thanks. Is there any coffee?”

  The uniform missed the point and leaned down to see who was in the passenger seat. He had no expression as he studied Roxy. “No, not any we’ve found yet.”

  Roxy waved at the cop using her fingertips.

  Bug rolled up the window. “Sorry about that.”

  “You’re just sorry you got caught. Which Hyde do you have in custody?”

  “No custody. We’re interviewing Trey.”

  Roxy’s experience was that the cops could “interview” someone for twenty-four hours, after which time the person needed to be charged with a crime or turned loose. The fact that Trey was coming up on his twenty-four-hour deadline was a matter of urgency to the investigators, she could see.

  Bug said, “I can’t talk about Trey with you.”

  “You think he did it? Killed his brother?”

  “You think he didn’t?”

  “He didn’t kill Kaylee,” Roxy pointed out. “If he’s been with you for a whole day, he couldn’t have chased her around my house and shot her on my heart-of-pine stairs. If you think Kaylee was killed to cover up Julius’s murder.”

  Bug sighed, unhappy. “Yeah, Trey being with us today put a wet blanket on one theory.”

  “Trey was your new best suspect? What happened to the homeless guy?”

  “We’ve been corroborating everybody’s stories.”

  “Save that crap for the media. While you guys focused on the wrong guy, the real killer kept going.”

  The thought had clearly occurred to Bug a long time ago, but he said, “Maybe Kaylee was killed by somebody other than the guy who whacked Julius.”

  “Even I know there are too many connections for that theory to work. Unless you think it’s a coincidence that a burglar broke into my house and Kaylee stopped him from stealing my underwear.”