Disk of Death

by Kim Smith

  Mentally, red danger balloons floated up. I immediately recognized the trap he’d hoped to spring. “Oh, I was just helping Mr. Fine with a few things he needed clearing up,” I lied. “While I was at it, the thought occurred to me there might be a clue to help with the case in the company database Rick kept on his customers.” I wasn’t going to enlighten him further as to what I had really been doing there.

  “You know we already went through these right?”

  “Yes, but I might see something you missed,” I answered, trying to engross myself in the laptop screen.

  We watched as I scrolled through the files. It took some time to reach the ‘S’ category.

  “Satin Sheet, Inc.; Silvestri; Simmons…” I muttered, as I scrolled with the mouse. Soon, I was in the right area.

  “Have you seen anything that could be a clue in this case yet?” Sal asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

  “Um. No.” I answered automatically. Then, the name appeared. Straw Hat Company, right near the bottom.

  Damn. Careful, Wallace, don’t let him see you sweat.

  I turned toward him, and smiled sweetly. “Is lunch still an option? I think my blood sugar is dropping. I’m getting quite shaky.” He reached across me, mouse-clicked the file closed, ejected the flash drive, and placed it on the stack I’d created near my elbow.

  “Sure, lunch is still on. How about the Gin?”

  “Can I have that flash drive?”

  “Nope.”

  Double damn. He would never let me take those files.

  Defeated, I answered, “How about the home cooking place around the corner from the Gin? It’s my aunt Tillie’s place and I can get us fed for free.”

  “Free is always good.”

  “Can we meet in about an hour?” I asked. “I have something to do real quick.”

  “I thought your blood sugar was dropping?” he drawled, a suspicious look on his face.

  “I said it’s dropping, not bottomed-out.”

  He shrugged. “Fine. And by the way, I would appreciate it if you didn’t share the information about those files with anyone. Once in my hands, it’s considered part of my case and therefore confidential.”

  I gazed up at him. Did he think I would run out and blab about something to the newspaper? Maybe Charlotte had been using her reporter wiles on him and he wanted assurances that she wouldn’t get the info from me.

  Time to roll. I smiled, nodded my understanding, scooped up my purse, and moved toward the door.

  “See you shortly,” he replied, and I hastened my exit.

  Walking to my car, I didn’t know what to think. I’d just found out Charles Fine had an alibi, the Straw Hat people were the lawn service Rick had used, and his apartment key was in my possession. I could finally go to see if any of our secret videos remained. To add to the uncertainty, I had a date with my college crush, which made my heart flutter in ways it totally shouldn’t be doing.

  I loved Rick. But he was beyond my reach now. Sal was warm and alive, and breathing, and…I didn’t know whether to cry or sing.

  Chapter 14

  The lunch crowd at Aunt Tillie’s place was always a thriving mass. It remained one of the best places in our small town to eat, and lines were a norm.

  We waited behind an elderly couple while Tillie hurried around delivering food, handing out drinks, and seating people. She smiled at the couple and led them to a table. I nodded at her and headed for one at the very back of the restaurant, near the bathrooms and kitchen. It was noisy over there but would be better cover for the conversation I wanted to have with Sal.

  “Nice of you to treat me,” he said, smiling.

  “Yeah well, I have connections. Have you been here before?”

  “Yes, lots of times. One of my favorite places. Your aunt makes a mean salmon patty.”

  I couldn’t argue. “Glad you like it. Thanks for coming.”

  “You want to pick up where we left off?”

  “Yes,” I nodded, shooting him a sharp glance. “As I’ve said, I think the older brother is involved.”

  “And as I’ve said, he isn’t.”

  Aunt Nancy came to the table, her blue apron swinging with every step. “What y’all drinking?”

  “I’ll have—”

  “Sweet tea, no lemon,” she interrupted. “I know. How about you, sir?”

  “Just water, thanks.”

  She wrote on the pad, but gazed at him over it, giving him a good sizing up. I knew what she wrote was likely, “husband material possible”.

  He played with the sugar packets, oblivious. Before she hurried away, she winked at me, approving, tilted the pad toward me so I could see the smiley face.

  “How can you be so sure about Charlie? He had motive, and opportunity, no matter what Charlotte Dillon says.”

  At the reporter’s name, he scowled. “How’d you know it was her?”

  “She left with him from the funeral. Easy enough to put them together after that.”

  He tilted his head back and frowned at the ceiling. “Ever consider going into law enforcement? You’d make a good detective.”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned toward me. “Okay. I won’t. Here’s the deal. You have a dead boyfriend who received threats against his life over the phone, and maybe through email, just like you. Wouldn’t he know his own brother’s voice? Charles Fine has a good alibi for his whereabouts on the evening of his brother’s death.”

  My mouth fell open slightly. “Oh.”

  “Oh is right. And, on top of all that, we have a better suspect.”

  My pulse quickened. “No, you don’t, Sal. You think you have a better suspect. It wasn’t Joe Drury. I’ll stake my freedom on that.”

  He fiddled with the salt shaker and remained mute.

  “I’m telling you, it isn’t him.” How could I convince him?

  “Even I can’t be that certain on guilt or innocence, and I’m trained to know these things. What makes you so special?” Now his serious brown-eyed gaze found mine.

  “Well, think about it. Why would his best friend kill him? What reason did he have? He would never hurt Rick. I know it all the way through me. Besides, Rick would recognize his voice, too. And by the way, the voice calling me on the phone is muffled, far from distinct. It could be Rick’s brother easily.”

  “Or anyone else with murderous intentions.”

  “It wasn’t Joe. He had no motive, damn it.”

  Sal bit his upper lip and tapped the table with a fingertip. “What if Drury was in love with you?”

  This took me aback. “Oh, get real. I’m not that appealing.”

  He laughed and sipped at the water Aunt Nancy had placed before him. “Okay, well, I still have reasonable doubt. Drury is the better suspect.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Why? I mean, you don’t understand. I know Joe. He’s innocent. I feel it in my gut.”

  “Chica, you defy explanation. If I went on my gut for every case, I would never arrest anyone. Do you think he’s going to seem guilty?”

  “What are the facts, Sal? What exactly do you have on him?”

  He grinned and his even white teeth gleamed. “Things.”

  “Like what? The fact that he was at Rick’s apartment the night he was killed? That doesn’t prove anything. I was there too, remember?”

  He shrugged. “Obviously you’ve been talking to Drury. Let me remind you, there are points of my case on which I cannot discuss. This case is far from closed, but even so, it’s better than this flimsy assumption you’re trying to build around Charles Fine. There’s a few more ghosts in Mr. Drury’s pantry.”

  “I think you mean skeletons in his closet,” I said with a sigh.

  Nancy came to take our order.

  “Get Detective Ramirez whatever he wants at no charge. I’m leaving. My appetite is gone,” I said, a twitch beginning in my eyebrow.

  He tilted his head, questioning. “You’re not eating?”
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  I rose to leave. “You don’t have anything on him that will stick. And you know it. I refuse to stay here and be your pawn while you try to exorcise what I might know from me.”

  He thrust out a hand to stop me. His eyes gleamed. “Sit down, I’m not finished.”

  I stared at his hand where it wrapped around my forearm. It felt warm and was covered with small dark hairs. He wore a gold pinkie ring sporting an opal on it.

  My gaze traveled back to his face and I mustered a smirk.

  He squeezed my arm. “Please.”

  Nancy cleared her throat and gave me an “better do it” look. Never one to refuse a plea, I sat.

  “Please bring me a chicken salad,” he told Nancy. “And give her something with rosemary in it. Maybe herbs will calm her.”

  Nancy patted his shoulder. “Tillie’s rosemary baked chicken will certainly fit that bill.” She took off for the kitchen doorway and a safer battleground.

  I clenched my fists. “I don’t need calming, Detective. I need answers. Someone out there has me on his speed dial list. I think he followed me to Rick’s office. How else did he know I would get that email?”

  “I was getting to that.”

  I crossed my arms. “Get on with it.”

  “Maybe the sender was just taking a shot in the dark, hoping you would get it?”

  I opened my mouth to spew my opinions, but he held up his hand. “It isn’t Rick Fine’s brother; I’ll promise you that. Charles Fine has an alibi and someone who will corroborate his whereabouts despite your opinion of her, yes, her. Secondly, Joe Drury is the one with motive, opportunity and no alibi” At my stricken look, he continued with a wave for me to listen. “Look I’m not saying that Drury is the perfect perp, but he is a person of interest. Not that you need to know any more about it. Through his own admission, there was something going on between him and Fine. Drury even admits to being at the victim’s house on the night of the murder. I haven’t figured out why he made such an admission, but there it is. Now, if you were a cop, which suspect would you be most interested in?”

  I shrugged. “He admitted to being there for the same reasons I did. So you would know that he isn’t guilty. But go on, you make it sound so easy.”

  “It’s not easy, but you have to think like the killer thinks.”

  “And you’re saying you’re doing that?” I leaned closer and whispered, “Bullshit.”

  “I’m looking for the missing pieces. I don’t believe the killer would aim at you for an issue he had with or against Fine. Drury was at that apartment. If he killed Fine-”

  “No, Sal,” I rushed at the chance. “It wasn’t Joe. He wouldn’t have to play these stupid phone call games if he wanted to get to me.” I paused and thought a moment before asking, “What if Charlie has an accomplice? If his alibi is so ironclad, then there has to be someone else.”

  He stared at me like I had told him that aliens were real.

  I took a deep breath and finished. “Listen, the voice calling me is well disguised. It could be Charlie, or as you said, anyone else. I’ll give you that. But you have to believe that Charles Fine is just as much a suspect as anyone else, alibi or not.”

  He held up a hand. “I don’t want to accuse an innocent man, but it’s not looking good for Drury, especially.”

  I flopped back in exasperation. “What can I tell you? What would convince you that Joe didn’t do it?”

  “Information that is solid. Convince him to come into the office and sit down and tell us everything. When we hauled him in the other day, he clammed up. Refused to tell us certain facets that could be vital to the case. I want the whole story this time about what he was doing there and what went on in that apartment. Make him help me understand. He’s got to do a better job than what went on the other day.”

  “Easy breezy,” I agreed. I had no doubt that he would do it, and no doubt that he would tell them whatever they needed to prove his innocence. A slight nagging began in my mind though, wondering what Joe was hiding. “When?”

  “Wait a minute now. He screamed everything from entrapment to brutality when we had him the other day. If you talk to him, be gentle. We don’t want him to think you’re doing it for us.”

  “He’s entitled to a lawyer, right?”

  He shuffled his feet and tilted back in his chair as Nancy nestled plates before us. When she left, he gave me a no-nonsense look. “Hiring himself a lawyer is probably a good idea.”

  I desperately wanted to go to Rick’s apartment but felt it might be better to wait until dark. The fewer questions raised the better.

  Instead, I decided to make a swing by the Underground and then go to see Joe. It would be preferable to have Dwayne with me, but I would manage. The rude waiter from the first visit was mostly hot air. He didn’t scare me. I knew how to deflate fat tires. Mean, fat, bald guys wouldn’t be any different.

  The interior of the dive was as dark and gloomy as before, but today it held a few more patrons. I glanced around. Charlie sat tucked in a booth at the back near the bathrooms. I strolled to the ladies’ room, head held high. Surprise swept across his face as I passed him. He wore a white linen shirt and matching shorts and smoked a cigarette, the blue smoke swirling around him. His friend’s profile was etched with acne scars, and he had a head full of wiry red hair that frizzed out like a clown’s.

  I kept moving until I reached the alcove where the restrooms resided. Then I paused to listen, but I couldn’t hear anything distinguishable. There was too much noise. I stepped into the ladies’ room and collected my thoughts.

  Who was Clown Hair? Didn’t I know him from somewhere? I struggled to remember. Surely I wouldn’t forget that hair. The accomplice angle returned to my mind.

  I chewed a nail while I decided what to do. I couldn’t stay in here all day, and I couldn’t do anything about the pair out front. I lingered a couple of minutes more and then sauntered out as though the two men didn’t exist. Just as I passed their table, a hand snaked out and caught my wrist, halting me.

  “Well, well, well,” Charlie sneered. “Look what the cat dragged in. What’re you doing here?”

  I yanked my arm away. “Creep.”

  His laughter followed me out. “If you want a real man, here I am.”

  I kept going until I was in my car, afraid of saying something that would be usable in court. I tried to memorize the cars in the lot. None of them rang any bells though and I made a vow to start paying more attention to details.

  Dwayne didn’t call, so I figured he must have hit pay dirt with his surveillance of Redmon’s wife. I drove to Joe’s hoping to convince him of the need to work with the cops. It would rid Sal of his silly suspicion, and make room for the actual suspect, Charles Fine. Every time I thought of him, I shivered.

  Joe lived on the west side of South Lake, close to Rick’s apartment. His neighborhood had been one of the nicest in the whole city during my high school years, until the city’s airport decided it needed to expand its runways and bought out many of the homes closest to it. This buyout left great gaping holes in the subdivision as people moved away, and their houses were razed. The remaining houses became the first to fall into hard times. The blight of owners selling at lower than market value threw the rest into what became a total disintegration of the area with grown up lawns, peeling paint, and cars up on cement blocks.

  Joe’s house sat on a quiet cove, just off Greenman Road, barely into the neighborhood. An old Camaro sat in his driveway and his yard needed a trim. I climbed from Betsy and made the short stroll up the walkway. The garage door was up and the entry leading into the house stood slightly ajar.

  I tapped on the glass, hoping he was in the den just off the kitchen. When he didn’t make an appearance, I pushed the door open and eased into the country-style kitchen.

  Several times after going to see a local pro soccer team play, we had eaten pizza and laughed over beers with Joe in his neat, clean home. Now it was mass chaos.

  The chairs la
y overturned, yanked out from under the table. The curtains barely hung on their rods, which had been ripped out of the wall. I inched forward. Glass crunched under my shoe.

  Someone had cleared the table of dishes, which now lay shattered on the floor. A terrible odor assaulted my nose and I pinched it closed, gagging. A blood trail began by the table and wound behind the kitchen bar, out of my line of sight. I knew whatever was on the other side of that bar would be something I didn’t want to see.

  I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. I didn’t know where Joe was, but a terrible suspicion gathered me in its arms. I began to tremble all over.

  God, this can’t be happening! Not real, not real, not real.

  The words ran through my head, a litany of hysteria on the verge of spilling out. My head knew what my heart wouldn’t admit. I cried out Joe’s name, and the silence grew deeper when he didn’t answer.

  Unspeakable horror crawled upwards from my stomach and the tears began before I could pull my cell phone out to call South Lake PD. I made the call, never moving a muscle until an officer arrived and rushed past me. Officer Blalock, my knight in blue, had arrived once again. He came to me, eyes wide, talking furiously into his lapel mike.

  Things seemed in slow motion. I sank to my knees, relieved that someone, anyone, had arrived. Blalock gently took my arm and led me outside. “Miss Wallace,” he began. “Did you see anyone leaving the area?”

  I shook my head. The wail of sirens rang out faintly in the distance. The city’s finest were on their toes.

  “Did you touch anything? Go into the house anywhere besides the kitchen?”

  I shook my head and crouched on the curb, my voice thick with tears. “I didn’t have to.”

  The first cruiser arrived. Sal stepped out of the passenger’s side. I was too war-worn to do more than glance at him. He waved for the others to go ahead.

  He knelt in front of me.

  “Shannon, I’ll need a statement. I know this is hard for you right now, but you have to help me. Help us. Do you understand?”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head trying to clear the tumbled thoughts. “I—I don’t know who, or how-”