He rose and rounded to the front of the desk, took her hand, and helped her rise. Her body lifted, as did her psyche when she noticed a twinkle of admiration in his eyes. “Please, aren’t we way past that formality? Call me Jonathan. May I call you Janie?”
“Absolutely, Jonathan. Let bygones be bygones.”
His lips parted in a smile. He handed her an envelope and motioned her toward the door. “Your instructions are on that piece of paper. So is my private cell phone number. Call me anytime.”
She took it and turned to leave, but he stopped her. He tapped his finger to his lips and then spoke again. “Can we meet up and discuss your progress on Wednesday, say over dinner at Chez Zee’s at 7:00 PM?”
She put her hand to her heart. “Jonathan Gates. Are you asking me out on a date?”
His cheeks darkened, just a tad. “Um, well…”
She held her breath. He still could be charming, but…
He began to stutter like a school boy. “I-I would like to get to know you a bit better, um, that is learn how you think. Plus, now that we are both...” He stopped and swallowed. “I mean it won’t stir up any unnecessary gossip. I figure meeting in public might be more comfortable, and we both need to eat.”
“I see.” She angled her head. She recalled the old test she used to screen boys in high school. Invite them to worship. If they squirmed, cross them off the list. “Well, Jonathan. Wednesday is church night. Services start at seven followed by Bible study at eight.”
“How about an early dinner at five-thirty?” He opened the inner office door leading back to the reception area.
She’d gotten her answer. “Very well. Five-thirty it is.”
He nodded. “Afterwards, may I escort you to services? I haven’t been in a while, and it’s high time I returned.”
Janie halted. Whoa, not what she expected. “I didn’t know you went to our church.”
He took in a breath. “I don’t. We went to First Presbyterian in Austin for years, but after Marge’s funeral, I found it hard to walk in there, or any church.”
The distant loss still reflected in his eyes touched her. “I’d be happy for you to accompany me. It is a lot easier to come with someone than by yourself.”
His facial features relaxed as he took her hand into both of his. “Ah. You do understand. Thanks.”
“You’ll do fine. Time has passed so the sting of the memory will be less. Our architecture is more modern anyway.” She retracted her hand and gave him a soft smile. So, he was a tad bit lonely. She shouldn’t read more into it than that. Just because Betsy Ann had a hot and heavy boyfriend didn’t mean Janie needed to start looking. Heaven forbid, it would be Jonathan Gates anyway.
As Janie walked past the receptionist’s desk, she became fully aware Chief Gates still had his eyes on her. She turned at the glass door, gave him a small wave, and exited. Halfway down the hallway, she leaned against the wall and took a long breath. After all of these years, which had been kind to him, to run into each other again? Well, it had been bound to happen, especially as Blake and she worked together on the sly.
Maybe Jonathan didn’t recall that barbecue party in 1970 when he and Jack were still on the beat in Austin. He became a bit tipsy and bumped into her as he mildly flirted, knocking her into Sergeant Morrison’s pool. Jack and he had almost come to fist-a-cuffs. But two years later, they were forced to work together on a murder case and mended fences.
Her gray cells conjured up a fuzzy memory of Marjorie Gates at the policeman’s ball on occasion. She recalled her to be quiet, demure, and a touch on the plain side, but nice enough. And Jack never gave any indication Jonathan ever had a problem with alcohol after the horrid pool party. They had been young rookies—overwhelmed and scared most of the time and afraid to show it. Besides, everyone can make a mistake. Not for her to judge. And definitely not her concern. She puffed into her bangs.
She wasn’t one to harp on the past. He’d been pleasant to converse with today. And if she wasn’t too rusty on the signals, he acted mildly interested in her company as well. Jonathan Gates. Of all people…
A giddiness crawled up her spine as his request sunk in. Forget the past. She would officially be investigating a case after all the years hugging the background. She pumped her fist. “Yes.”
Her voice echoed through the corridor. Four people focused their attention on her. She slunk past them and headed for the stairwell to the parking garage, her steps lighter and quicker.
~*~
Betsy Ann stood at Janie’s back stoop. “Well?”
“Well, we met again after all these years. He acted pleasant. Not at all stuffy as Blake described him.” Janie unlocked her kitchen door and ushered her friend inside. A cool blast of air greeted them. “Thank the Lord for A.C.”
Betsy Ann fanned herself. “Whew, it’s a steam bath out there. Supposed to hit ninety-nine today. We’re only into June. Earliest on record if the temperature tops one hundred.”
“Probably will in downtown Austin. All that concrete and glass.” Janie harrumphed. “Another reason I moved to the country.”
“Me, too.” She plopped into one of the kitchen chairs. “So, Janie, tell all. What happened?”
Shivers of excitement crawled up Janie’s arms. She slid into the chair across from her. “Chief Gates, uh I mean Jonathan”—she emphasized his first name—“wants me to be a part of this burglary investigation.”
Betsy Ann’s left eyebrow arched. “First name basis? That outfit we picked out had an effect, huh?”
Janie tilted her head and traced the edge of the place mat. “He’s a widower now. He invited me to dinner.”
Her friend slammed her hand on the table. “No? Really. A date?”
“Perhaps.” Janie tucked her lips together. “Maybe not. He wants me to report in and thought meeting in a public place might not attract as much attention from the press. My involvement has to be hush-hush.”
“Because you’re Blake’s mother-in-law?”
“Yes, and because I’m not on the force. More of an outside consultant. Besides, if anyone digs into the past, they’ll learn he and Jack worked the beat together on occasion and how would it look?”
Betsy Ann rubbed her hands together. “Ethel is going to swoon with envy.”
Janie shrugged. “She wasn’t an eye witness.”
“What about me or George?” Her face deflated.
Janie pitty-patted her arm. “You’re our main witnesses. I’m sure Hemphill will want to interview you both, and I’ll need your investigative skills as well, as I stated earlier this morning.”
Betsy Ann perked up. “Oh, of course. Happy to help out, considering we are neck-deep in this.”
“What? You aren’t going to scold me this time?”
“Not if you’re official.” She smiled. “So, what are you going to wear?”
“Huh? Oh, to dinner? I don’t know. Hadn’t thought about it. He’ll be accompanying me to Wednesday night services afterward.”
“Hmmm. Something churchy then. I’d suggest another skirt instead of slacks, though. Just not the long one with the little purple and pink flowers.”
Janie protruded her lower lip. “Why does everyone hate that outfit lately?”
“It’s fine around us, dear. Just not around, well.” She edged closer and whispered, “M-E-N.”
“I’m not out to impress him, Betsy Ann. Except for my professionalism and sleuthing skills.”
Betsy Ann snickered. “Right, Janie. Sure.”
FIFTEEN
After he paid the taxi driver for dropping him off at the outlet center, Arnie Jacobson wandered around to the loading docks and scaled the security fence. He strolled across the back field and down the dirt road for half an hour before turning at the live oak with the rusted no trespassing sign nailed to it. He climbed over the barbed wire barrier and headed for the riverbank. As he crouched in the reeds and waited, his heartbeat thumped in his ears with each passing second.
Anoth
er man’s footsteps approached at last. Arnie stepped out of the shadows into the new moon’s glow. “You’re twenty minutes late.”
“I almost didn’t come at all.” His partner, Joe Winston, ran his hand through his dark hair.
“Why?” Arnie came closer.
“That was a dumb move, man. They’ll find out.”
“Wellington was a squealer. Once the pain pills began to wear off, he wanted to sing like a cardinal in spring in order to get some more. Didn’t even recognize me.”
Joe cocked his head to the side. “So, you let him confess?”
“What can I say? I shoulda been a priest. I acted all concerned.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
"I gave him double the dose for good behavior, and he fell asleep again. The rest was easy.” Arnie let out a small laugh.
“You did what? Idiot. It’ll show up in the toxicology screen.”
Arnie crossed his arms over his chest. “Considering they do one.”
“You made it look like suicide. Of course they’ll do one.” Joe paced back and forth in the tall grass.
Arnie swatted the comment away. “So, what? It’ll show he overdosed. Big deal. Could be he got tired of waiting for it to take effect and took the quicker way out.”
His partner shoved his finger in the direction of Arnie’s blond moustache. “You better hope that’s what the coroner concludes. That doesn’t explain how he got the pills, though.”
“They were his. The hospital pharmacy gave them to him.”
“Yeah, but protocol states the officer in charge is supposed to keep them.”
“Perhaps Wellington snatched them when he wasn’t looking. I left the empty bottle under his cot and made sure his fingerprints were all over it.” Arnie placed his hand on a tree trunk. “Quit worrying. Wellington had a history of instability. He was volatile.”
Joe scoffed. “You mean he was nuts? Not the way his parents report things.”
“Well, parents often wear blinders. Anyway, why would they think any foul play occurred, Joe? The kid screwed up, felt guilty, panicked, and did himself in.”
“What about that Alamoville cop?”
Arnie pushed off from the cypress tree and met him nose to nose. “Branson doesn’t know a thing. The crushed-up pills I slipped into his coffee knocked him out. The man is too proud to ever admit he fell asleep on the job.”
“And if he does, you figure the police doc will say it was an adrenaline crash after the manhunt.”
Arnie’s moustache twitched as he tapped his temple. “Now you get it. By the time he does come forward and confess, if he does, the pills will be well out of his system.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Arnie took two steps forward. “You’re sure no one saw you come here?”
“Positive. Parked the car two miles up the road at the rest area. You?”
“Took a cab to the mall and walked the rest of the way.”
Joe nodded. “So, when do we get our money, Arnie?”
“Tonight. Under the bridge by the park.”
Arnie hissed under his breath. “Um. No. You won’t.”
“Right. See ya then.” Joe turned to head back up the bank.
Arnie screwed the silencer into the muzzle of his gun, aimed just to the right of his partner’s left shoulder blade and pulled the trigger. The idiot dropped like a stone to the dirt. The bullet did its job, lodging deep inside his chest. Most of the bleeding would be contained internally.
Arnie quickly snatched Joe’s personal belongings and then took the roll of duct tape from his pocket and wrapped three large rocks around his partner’s hips and legs. He placed rocks across each of the arms, securing them to the torso. He scraped the skin off the fingertips with his pocket knife blade to destroy their prints and wiped the blood on Joe’s shirt. Next, he raised his fist and repeatedly whacked Joe in the jaw to dislodge most of the dead man’s teeth. He pulled them with a pair of pliers to destroy any dental signatures, depositing the teeth in a handkerchief, sealing it in a baggie, and pocketing it.
“Bye, Joe. It’s been real, man.” Arnie rolled him into the San Gabriel River. It took five seconds for the body to disappear under the black silky water, barely illuminated by the moonlight. “Bon appétit, catfish.”
He walked two miles back to Joe’s car parked near the highway. The man’s signature black hoodie lay on the passenger seat. Arnie ran his hand over it. “Sorry, Joe. You were too much of a liability, man.”
Arnie drove to an all-night fast food joint. He stuffed the wadded-up teeth and pocket knife deep into the already brim-full dumpster, disturbing a dozen or so flies. He swatted them away and walked to the entrance around the other side. In the dim lighting he checked over his clothes to make sure he’d avoided getting blood or dirt on himself. No need for any clues that could link him to the crime if he could help it. He was smarter than that.
His watch read ten forty-five. “Time for a burger and shake.” He pushed open the glass doors and stepped into the almost vacant restaurant.
“Howdy, handsome.”
“Hey. Betty Lou, isn’t it? Number three, please. Oh, and super-size the fries.”
“Aren’t y’all still investigating that burglary? Where’s your partner?”
“Heck if I know. Didn’t show up for our shift. I’m not his mother, am I?”
The order taker chuckled as she smacked her gum and turned in his meal ticket. “On the house. You cops have been through enough this week.”
Arnie winked at her. “Thanks. You’re an angel.”
SIXTEEN
Blake sat on the couch, hunched over the coffee table, tapping his pen on the lined note pad. For a proper internal affairs investigation, he had to bring in a citizen who would be unbiased. That ruled out Janie, Betsy Ann, and George since they were all witnesses. Gates frowned on bringing in someone from I.A. in Austin as a consultant. Even in a smaller city such as Alamoville, some distrust of the police in general had filtered into public opinion due to recent national headlines about kick-backs, brutality, and evidence tampering, not to mention two headliner movies and three hit TV shows that had featured plots which flushed out dirty cops. His officers had noticed the change in civilian attitudes and commented on it. Bringing in a big city negotiator might make the local press think he’d stacked the deck.
He thunked his temple with his fingers as he spoke to his reflection in the glass table top. “Duh, Blake. How about Ethel? She’s smart, savvy on crime, well at least as portrayed in the books she reads, and is about as trustworthy as they come. Perfect. She’ll jump at the chance.”
Blake recalled how excited she’d been when she and Janie had been detained in the police department interrogation room after the morgue break-in. Like a kid at the circus for the first time. He picked up his cell phone to dial her number, but halted on the third digit. He hit delete and speed dialed Janie instead. She answered on the second ring.
“Blake. Hi. Let me set Mrs. Fluffy’s new ultra-light weight cat litter down. Lighter, my foot. It weighs a ton.” She huffed into the receiver as she picked up her phone again. “Now, wait until I tell you about my visit to the chief of police’s...”
He heard her kitchen chair scoot across the tile, then a slight swoosh as the fake leather cushion gave every indication it had been pressured by her rear end. “I thought you were going to have that rip in the upholstery repaired.”
“I will. Duct tape is a quick fix for now.”
“Right. Which is why it almost sounds like a whoopee cushion,” Blake groused.
“Boy, aren’t we a grump.”
“Sorry. Sitting on my you-know-what all day having my head examined got to me.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it did.” She sighed through the connection. “I have the material to redo all four of the dinette chairs, but I need your industrial sized automatic stapler.”
His tone brightened. “Why don’t I bring it over now? We can tackle it together, and you can tell me all abou
t your day. There’s something I want to discuss with you as well.”
“Oh, goody. Is it related to my assignment?”
Blake chuckled. He could almost picture her bouncing in her chair like a school kid on the last day of classes. “Yep. Do you need foam? I can drop by the home improvement store and grab some cushion pads.”
“Excellent idea. Probably the stuff in there now could use replacing. Jack and I bought this set when Mel was in middle school.”
“Right. See you in an hour.” He hung up and called up the stairs. “Mel. Your mom needs help reupholstering her dinette set. Back in a few hours.”
“What about your all-important investigation?” Her voice filtered down to him.
Blake cringed at the iciness of her tone. “I have to interview her again anyway. Kill two birds…”
Mel appeared at the top of the landing, folding a bath towel. “You know I’m jealous, don’t you? Your honey-do list from me is yellowing with age.”
He took the steps two at a time and pecked her firmly on the cheek. “Sorry. I’ll start on it as soon as we get back from vacation. I promise.”
Her mouth dropped. She pointed over his shoulder. “Oh, look. A purple pig just zipped by with polka dot wings.” She harrumphed and wandered back into the bedroom to finish folding clothes.
Blake smirked. While he was at the hardware store, he’d pick her up that wind chime she always eyed when they went into the garden department. The $39.95 one with hummingbirds. Unless of course, he could find one with purple pigs...
~*~
Janie stopped in mid-cut with her shears hovering over the fabric. “You’re asking Ethel?”
Blake rocked back on his heels. “The guidelines for internal investigations specify that in small towns, the force should bring in a citizen of impeccable standing as a consultant. You don’t qualify.”
She placed her other hand on her hip. “Because I’m your mother-in-law?”
“That and a prime witness.”
“Why did Gates give this to you?”
Threes, Sixes & Thieves Page 8