Threes, Sixes & Thieves

by Cosgrove, Julie B;

  He tromped out the back door into the alley and took a deep breath. He only had forty-eight hours, and the next five would be tied up with a shrink. What Internal Affairs investigation ever wrapped up in such a short time? Mel was going to kill him if their vacation had to be cancelled.

  He dug his cell phone from his back pocket and speed dialed the number to his mother-in-law. Like it or not, he needed Janie to help him pull this off. After all, she had been an eyewitness. Blake just hoped this didn’t slam a coffin nail into his career.

  FOURTEEN

  After only four hours of sleep, Janie brewed an extra strong cup of coffee while Mrs. Fluffy ate her breakfast. “Just once, I wish you’d let me sleep in, beast. Just because Ethel phoned at the crack of dawn doesn’t mean the breakfast bell sounded.”

  Her cell phone rang again at seven fifty-eight as she poured some instant oatmeal in a bowl. She looked at the caller identification and grinned. About time. “Good morning, Blake.”

  “I hope you haven’t had breakfast. I’m driving through the Taco Shack now. You want your regular?”

  She chuckled. “I guess that means you’re coming over?”

  “Yep. Can’t stay long, though. I, um, have a doctor’s appointment.”

  “Uh huh. Let me guess. The department wants your brain tested.”

  He sputtered. “How, how...?”

  “Jack went through that rigmarole twice. You’ll do fine.”

  “Thanks. See ya in a few. I’ll come to the back door.”

  She covered the cereal bowl in saran wrap and put it in her pantry. Ten minutes later he tapped on the jamb. She let him in and he set the sack on the table. He made a beeline for the coffeepot. “Ah, fresh caffeine.”

  “I made it extra strong today. Just warning you.”

  He swiveled to face her as he poured the black liquid into a mug. “I need it. Top you off?”

  She held up her cup. “Please. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  He pulled up a chair, dug in the sack, and gave her the one marked no chorizo sausage. “This is official business. I need to interview you about last night while it is still fresh in your mind. Before we get to that, I have a surprise for you.”

  Janie scrunched her shoulders in excitement. “Well, what is it?”

  “Police Chief Gates requests the honor of your presence.” He swept his hand in a chivalrous bow.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure but from the expression on his face, I think he knows you and not just about you.”

  The wrench in her gut tightened, even after all these years. “Yes, that’s true. But it’s been a while.” She stirred her coffee and chose to ignore Blake’s quizzical smirk.

  ~*~

  Janie called Ethel as soon as Blake closed the door. “Guess what?”

  “Your voice is an octave higher, so I am thinking this is good news?”

  She bounced on her toes as she opened her closet and thumbed through her clothes. “I’m to meet with Chief of Police Gates at eleven today.”

  “Did you find out if he is the same…?”

  “Yep. Though I seriously doubt he wants to wander down memory lane.”

  “Why the meet and greet?”

  “Don’t rightly know. I guess to go over the recent events.” She pulled out a red blouse and frowned. Then she hung it back up.

  “I knew I should’ve sneaked over there last night.” Ethel scoffed. “Did he ask for Betsy Ann, too?”

  “No, just me. Casual or church clothes?”

  “Dress for success. You want to look important. Wear high heels and show a little leg.”

  “Ethel!”

  “Well, some of your mid-calf skirts are a little, um, dowdy.”

  “They are?”

  “The one with the small purple and pink flowers definitely. Also, the navy one with white daisies, which reverses to a red and white picnic table pattern?”

  “Darn, I like that skirt. One of these days, wrap-arounds will come back in style. I’m just ahead of the curve.”

  The famous Ethel-huff blasted into her ear. “Call Betsy Ann for advice then. She’ll probably want to do your hair as well.”

  “Exactly what I’m afraid of. She’s headed over here anyway. I’ll ring you later and fill you in.”

  “Good. Then I won’t have to pry it out of ya.”

  They laughed and disconnected their conversation.

  ~*~

  The psychologist’s waiting room oozed tranquility. Soft blue and green hues adorned the walls, upholstery, and rugs. A fish tank bubbled in the corner, glossy green plants added atmosphere, and soft guitar music played in the background. Inspirational signs were placed about the room—some on the walls, and others in the form of plaques perched on side tables. The whole scene made Blake squirm. So did the myriad of forms attached to the clipboard on his lap. What did they want him to list next? His belt size?

  He handed it back to the receptionist with a terse grin, which she returned as she slid the frosted glass window closed. Minutes passed. He re-crossed his leg and tapped his knuckles on the arm of the chair but decided it made him appear too nervous so he clutched his hands in his lap.

  Blake sighed. Five hours here meant half the day gone out of the two he’d been allotted to investigate. So while he waited he decided to review the facts again. The little he had only led to questions.

  Exactly what went down in the West Woods, which led to Wellington’s being shot? Also, what happened once he had been booked into the jail that led to his demise? Chief Gates had e-mailed him the report from the Grayson force, but the reason gunfire had to be exchanged remained vague. Why had the cop—now known as Jamison—insisted upon escorting the prisoner from the hospital to Alamoville police headquarters? Rather unusual since he was out of his jurisdiction. Then, again, it had been an unusually chaotic night. Perhaps he thought since he made the arrest, he should follow it through. Blake could grasp that notion. Police officers took pride in how many criminals they collared. He made a mental note to ask permission to speak to this Jamison.

  At last, a man appeared at the door. He walked over to Blake, hand extended. “You must be Blake. I’m Roger. I’ll be your test facilitator today. You’re scheduled to meet with Dr. Mattocks on Thursday at nine to go over the results. This way, please.”

  Blake sucked in a breath through his nose and followed the guy down the hall. Thursday. The day he and the family were to head to the beach. So, they’d grab lunch and leave later. Drive in the heat of the day for five hours. Another thing Mel will absolutely love. He’d better stop by the florist shop on the way home before he slapped this latest development in her lap.

  He entered the room with a small table flanked by two chairs facing each other. A laptop showed a screen saver of a field of soft flowers illuminated by the sun and a rainbow.

  Oh, brother. What a waste of time. He hoped lunch would be decent.

  ~*~

  Chief Gates answered the anticipatory questions at the impromptu council meeting with positive and vague sentences. He was pleasant with the press, who filled the chambers with their cameras and tape recorders poised. Meriwether did his job placating the curiosity as well as convincing the reporters that the mayor and the councilmen were on top of everything.

  One of the Austin television news reporters asked if an investigation was pending.

  Gates smiled. “It is protocol. An internal affairs committee, what we call I.A., is being formed as I speak. They will consist of an impartial police official, a citizen, and one council member of the mayor’s choosing. He promises to let me know by the end of today who that member is and I will inform Chief Detective Blake Johnson. He’s the lead investigator.”

  “What?” Councilwoman Rebecca Frazier half rose from her chair. “Isn’t he being reprimanded or something?”

  Gates took a swallow of water to calm his nerves. He knew the can had been opened now. From their expressions, the press would hang on every syllable, and probably tw
ist a few around to boost their ratings. Oh, well. Eggshell walking came with the job. He gave them a serious but sincere facial expression and began his memorized spiel.

  “The fact Chief Detective Johnson is on administrative leave does not negate his outstanding record as an investigator in this community. Because he has been under medical care following a heroic incident during his last investigation—which, I might add, uncovered a major organ smuggling ring in Central Texas—he had no connection with the events which unfolded during the recent manhunt. Therefore, he more than qualifies for leading the investigation team, according to the California I.A. statutes of 2007, which every police force in this country now follows. His history of integrity while employed with the Alamoville Police Department over the past ten years gives me every confidence in his ability to provide a fair and balanced account. I have nothing further to add. Thank you.”

  Before the press could respond, he nodded and left the podium.

  ~*~

  Janie tapped on the doorjamb to the reception area for the chief of police. A bright-eyed receptionist looked up from her computer screen and motioned her to come in.

  “I’m Janie Manson. I have an appointment at eleven.”

  “Why, yes. You’re about five minutes early, which is fine. The chief appreciates promptness. May I offer you a cup of coffee or some water?”

  “Water is fine.”

  The girl bobbed her head, rose, and left the room. Janie glanced around the perimeter of the reception area. Decorated in hunter greens and maroons, the place appeared unpretentious yet professional. An oriental rug, most likely fake, covered most of the floor in front of the secretarial desk. Two mahogany chairs with dark green leather seats perched against the wall underneath a print of the Texas Hill Country. She sat in the one on the left, furthest from the glass door from which she’d entered.

  The girl returned with a tumbler glass of iced water, not a plastic bottle, wrapped in a paper napkin. She slid into her office chair and punched a button on her phone. “Chief, Mrs. Manson is here.”

  Janie heard male footsteps beyond the interior mahogany door. It opened. A tall man with a firm jaw and a wave of white hair stood before her. Other than a slight paunch, he still appeared very healthy. His skin tone showed he probably played golf or tennis regularly. His stride oozed confidence. He held out his hand and flashed her a smile, which dazzled her almost as much as his deep-set blue eyes. She noticed a small, gold wedding band on it. Yes, he had been married back in the day. So had she. Most likely his wife still waited at home for him. What had been her name?

  Janie blinked the thought away and stood to greet him. She sucked in a deep breath as they shook hands and their wedding rings pressed against each other. “Chief Gates, it is a pleasure to meet with you. Blake, er, Chief Detective Johnson, speaks highly of you.”

  His hearty chuckle filled the room. “What a loyal woman you are. I like that. This way, please.”

  He motioned her into his office, and as she passed, his hand briefly pressed her lower back. Then as quickly as it landed there and sent a chill up her spine, his warmth disappeared. Janie turned to see him grasp the door handle leading into his office. “Shirley. Hold my calls for the next half hour.”

  He waved his hand. “Please sit down. I’ll leave the door open a wedge for propriety’s sake.”

  Hmm. Manners, too. Janie checked herself again. She sounded like Betsy Ann with George. She had to admit, however, the man’s gaze captivated her as he sat in his leather chair and swiveled slightly to meet her eyes. But they always did. Could it be he didn’t remember that summer?

  “I say, that navy blue suit looks stunning on you.” His stare lingered as if he sized her up.

  Janie wiggled in her seat. Yes, he was trying to place her.

  He snapped out of his daze. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’ve heard quite a bit about you as of late, Janie Manson. Even so, you’re not what I expected to see after all this time. Not feeble or dowdy in the least.” He laughed. “I guess I’ve been watching too many Mrs. Marple shows.”

  If it hadn’t been for his amazingly masculine and yet congenial demeanor, Janie might have taken offense. She tugged her pencil skirt over her knees. “Not disappointed, I hope.”

  “Not in the least.” His eyes scanned her once again. He paused then cleared his throat. “I understand we have more in common than me knowing your late husband and your son-in-law. You see, I’m a widower. I lost my Marjorie eleven years ago to multiple sclerosis.”

  Janie gasped. “I am so very sorry. How hard that must have been. Pardon me for saying so, but in many ways, I thank the good Lord He decided to take my Jack quickly twenty years ago.”

  “Has it been that long?”

  She nodded. “It hurt horribly, like ripping a bandage from a wound, but after the initial daze of grief, the roller coaster of anger, and the denial phase, I realized it may have been a blessing...for both of us.” She twisted the gold band she’d worn for close to fifty years now.

  Gates tented his fingers and nodded. “No offense taken. Still, even though it pained me to watch her diminish, a lot of cherished moments emerged from our struggle.”

  “What a positive attitude you have. Many might be bitter.”

  “It seems ages now. Ten years ago, I was the only crime detective in Georgetown. Alamoville was a lot smaller, too.”

  “I remember. Which is why Jack and I moved out here back in 1986, to get away from the noise and bustle of Austin. He said the commute home became his link to sanity after dealing with the dredges of the inner city all day.”

  “And he, um, made the ultimate sacrifice in 1997?”

  “Yes. But I stayed in the house for almost fourteen more years, long after the kids left and married.”

  He edged forward. “Why?”

  “The memories.”

  Gates gave a short snort. “And I took the Georgetown post soon after she passed because I wanted to escape the memories. Turn over a new leaf as they say. Sold the house within a few months after the funeral. Bought a small two-bedroom condo in Somerset Village.”

  “Overlooking the lake. Yes, I have a few friends who live there.”

  “But you chose to move to Sunset Acres. Why?”

  She shrugged. “It was time, I guess. Plus, I had friends there as well. And by that time, Mel and Blake had moved out here from Cedar Park where he’d been on the force, so I wanted to stay in the area. It was that or move to New Jersey where my son and his family live. Too cold.”

  “Makes sense. Marjorie and I could never have kids.” He turned in his chair and stared out the window. “When I came on board here, there were twelve of us full time on the force, Blake included. I often donned a uniform and pulled traffic control out on the highway. That still remains our biggest revenue maker.” He shook his head. “Now the commuters from Austin have found us as they did Round Rock and Pflugerville fifteen years ago. Can’t tell where their city limits end and ours begin.”

  She smiled. “It is growing by leaps and bounds.”

  “So is the crime. Hard to keep up even though we now have fifteen uniforms and four crime detectives.”

  “Four?”

  He returned to face her. “Didn’t Blake tell you? We promoted Phil Edwards the end of last week. Tomorrow is his first day in street clothes.”

  “Because of his response to my distress call?” She swelled her chest.

  “Not totally, no. Also, due to his other actions in both the Edwin Newman and the organs smuggling ring case. Blake saw his capabilities and put in the recommendation. I escalated it knowing Blake was headed for vacation by the end of the week. I wanted them to have a few days together and for Edwards to work with Hornsby as well.”

  Janie nodded. “Ah, yes. He’s back today.” She looked to her hands. “Even though Blake isn’t, is he?”

  Gates smiled. “No. Protocol had to be followed after his and your ordeal. I read your statement and thank you for it.” He le
aned in. “However, that is not why I asked you here. Nor it is due to your recent hospitality toward my force. Though I do owe you my gratitude for that as well.”

  “You’re welcome. So, may I inquire…?”

  His face took on a stern expression. “The real reason does not leave this room. Do I have your word?”

  Janie inched up to the edge of her chair. “Of course.” She pressed her lips together.

  Gates handed across a sheet of paper. “I have assigned Blake to piece together what happened in the field on Monday night, as well as what happened between the time Jacob Wellington left Mercy Memorial Hospital and the time my men discovered him hanged by his bandages in his jail cell this morning. It leaves Hemphill to investigate the actual robbery.”

  “Oh?” She scanned the document.

  “I don’t want to overload him. Blake indicated you may be of help. Because of your track record and who your husband was, I approve of your involvement in this case.”

  She lifted her chin in triumph.

  “But...” He lifted his finger and aimed it at her face, “I want to make it absolutely clear this is in a fact-gathering aspect only. You’re to report to me―not Hemphill, Blake, or anyone else on the investigative team in his absence. I must keep a tight rein on things, understand? The press is already having a field day with this. Once they learn I’ve solicited the help of a civilian, much less—pardon me for mentioning this, but, a woman of your, um...”

  “Age.” She crossed her leg, revealing her knee. His eyes traveled down, and then back up.

  “Well, to be honest, yes. Though you hardly look old enough to be in a retirement community.”

  “Neither do you.” She flashed him a soft smile. “To complete your thought—if they discover I’m involved, you won’t be sitting in that chair much longer. Especially in the light of recent events, which put both me and my son-in-law in danger.”

  He smirked. “You are sharp as ever. Blake was right.”

  Janie shifted her gaze to the carpet as she felt her cheeks warm. She sighed and clutched her purse strap. After a moment, she lifted her eyes to his face. “Very well. You have my word, Chief Gates.”