Wild Blue Mysteries Boxed Set

by Diane Bator

  “The model’s wife.” Danny’s words stopped him in his seat.

  Leo let out a low whistle and sat back. Things suddenly got a bit more interesting. “He’s married? Do you think his wife found out he was cheating and split?”

  “Actually, she’s apparently been missing for a couple months, but no one’s bothered to file a report. Gage was only seeing the model for about a month before he died.” Danny sipped his coffee. “As far as the missing wife goes, the shooter either killed and buried her before he shot Gage, or she escaped the weirdness and went on the run. A couple other officers interrogated the model a few times and said he doesn’t seem like a psychopathic killer. More clueless than crazy.”

  “Yeah, well I guess you never know what’ll make people snap.” Leo scanned through the information. “So what gives? No photos of either the suspect or his wife. How do you expect me to find her?”

  Danny shifted in his seat and glanced around the coffee shop. “There were only a couple of pictures, which I thought seemed weird. Either her husband erased her from their apartment after she left or...”

  Leo leaned forward when Danny didn’t offer an alternative. “Or?”

  “I have the model’s portfolio and more crime scene photos. I’ll send you copies later.”

  “Why would someone get rid of all traces of their spouse? Unless he’d done something to her as well. Interesting.” Leo shuffled through the paperwork once more until he returned to the photo of Gage. “So aside from that, all I have to go on for now is a name, a location, and a newspaper clipping?”

  “For now.” Danny nodded. “I’ll be sure to forward everything as soon as I can. I have faith in you. You’ve found people before with less.”

  “Yeah, but that was—”

  “Leo, this is for Hannah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She and Gage were friends in college and she thinks the whole case sounds weird. I didn’t want to take this one, but I told her we’d look into things just to make her feel better.”

  Leo narrowed his eyes. “So you’re keeping the agency open on Hannah’s hunch.”

  “And because fixing cars isn’t as exciting as being threatened, kidnapped, and shot at and harder to do when I’m back on the force.” His frown turned sheepish. “Mostly, I want to see justice carried out. Hannah says this Gage guy was weird, but had lots of potential. I’ve met the model who shot him. The guy’s a few bricks short of a retaining wall, but I just don’t buy the whole set up. I don’t think the model killed anyone.”

  Leo laughed. “Face it, you’re an adrenalin junkie. Go back to Newville and deal with the case there. Make sure the job gets done right. Frankly, it’s a bit too bizarre for me.”

  Danny shook his head. “I promised my sister the agency would look into Gage’s murder from outside of what I can do as a cop.”

  “You did. We have.” Leo stood. “Now we’re done and the cops are on it. I’m not interested in finding a killer who’s already behind bars. I’d rather catch a plane.”

  “What about the model’s wife?” He tapped the folder

  Leo scowled. “That’s why they have cadaver dogs. After breakfast, I’m going home to pack then hopping the next flight to Tibet.”

  “Like hell.” Danny leaned forward, his eyebrows lowered. “I need you, Leo.”

  A woman in a blue parka stopped next to the table. Katie Mullins, the red-head who ran the nearby bookstore and had dated Danny since summer began. “Excuse me? Do you gentlemen need a little privacy?”

  Leo met her gaze and winked. “Yeah, probably for the rest of the day.”

  “For a case, Katie.” Danny flashed a wry smile at his girlfriend. “I need him to help me with a case.”

  “A new case? Really? I thought you said you were going to shut down the detective agency.” She paused then smiled. “What can I do to help?”

  “Go back to your bookstore and keep your nose out.” Leo groaned. “The last time you tried to help, Danny got kidnapped and nearly killed.”

  She huffed. “That wasn’t my fault. I never took you for the dramatic type. If you’re jealous of me and Danny, I totally get it but—”

  “Hell, no.” Leo flinched. “No offense, babe, but you’re not my type.”

  Katie fell silent for several seconds. “What exactly is your type?”

  “I’ll let you know when I meet her.”

  Danny groaned then stood between Katie and Leo to give Katie a quick kiss. “Good. Then go back to the store, stop being nosy, and behave. I have to get Leo up to speed. We’ll talk later.”

  “You’re trying to get Leo up to speed? Good luck with that, you’ll probably need a jackhammer for that skull.” Katie groaned, then pushed open the coffee shop door and walked out into the cold.

  Leo picked up his cup. “On that note, I’m done here. See you in a few months.”

  “She didn’t mean that. Don’t leave.” Danny grabbed his sleeve. “Please. Sit down so we can go over the files. I need your help on this one. I’d love to check out the crime scene and the suspect’s apartment, but I know you’d see things I’d miss. Besides, I’m booked for an interview in Buffalo at the gallery Gage tried to get his paintings hung in. I could really use another set of eyes and ears.”

  “Divide and conquer?” Leo sat and folded his arms across his broad chest.

  “If we split the work, the case will be solved by Christmas.” Danny settled back in his chair. “Hannah can sleep at night and I can get her off my back then I can spend at least part of the holidays with Katie in peace.”

  Leo was doubtful. “Then can I go to Tibet?”

  “Buddy, I will drive you to the airport myself.”

  “You wear a chauffeur’s uniform and we’ve got a deal.” He sipped his tea and pulled out the photo of Gage’s body. “Whoever shot him was mad enough to empty a handgun into him. Maybe the missing wife caught Gage and hubby doing some after hours posing?”

  “Jealousy?” Danny shook his head. “No, the suspect would have as many holes in him as the victim does, probably even more. Maybe the model was upset either over the upcoming sale of Gage’s paintings or another affair. I haven’t seen the paintings yet. Maybe there’s something the model was trying to hide. Like his identity.”

  “Or maybe Gage was just a world class jerk. Artists are known to be temperamental.” Is that why Leo had a hard time taking this case seriously or was it simple burn out? “You said according to the blood work the model was drugged. If he’d actually passed out, how could he shoot Gage?”

  Danny narrowed his eyes. “You think there was a second shooter?”

  “That would explain a few things.” He sat back, his gaze still on the photo. “Where do you want to start looking?”

  Danny rubbed his jaw. “I’m off to Buffalo to check out the paintings Gage sent to the art gallery. Where do you want to start?”

  Leo raised his cup. “For now? At Needlez. I have an appointment with Clancy to finish the tattoo he started this summer before all hell broke out.” When he’d been called on to track a serial killer in July and help with a drug bust in August. “I’ve got research to do and your model’s not going anywhere for a while anyway. Neither is the vic.” He finished his tea. “As for the wife, while I sit, I’ll have time to think about where to start looking.”

  He left the warmth of the coffee shop and wandered across the street to his apartment. Despite the early hour, the homey smell of fresh bread wafted from the bakery a few doors down. Leo’s stomach growled. He should have grabbed a bagel on his way out. He might have to pop into the bakery later.

  By ten o’clock that morning, Leo shut his laptop and rubbed his dry eyes. Why hadn’t he fled the country again before things got crazy? He blinked, but the room around him remained a blur. He hoped he didn’t need glasses after all the research he’d been doing. All he’d found in two hours of web surfing was a whole lot of nothing. Gage had a website with a couple photos of abstract paintings posted, nothing Leo would ever throw money at. Do
zens of pictures showed Gage at gallery openings, sitting cross-legged on silver floors, and painting even uglier abstracts on huge canvases.

  Leo followed every link and checked out every gallery associated with Gage’s name. Nothing panned out electronically, but the more he searched, the more he became fascinated with Gage’s Warhol obsession. The whole silver studio concept came from Andy Warhol’s Silver Factory in New York City. In Gage’s case, the brick walls were painted silver, the floors laid with stainless steel tiles and the furniture was either chrome or foil-covered. He even owned a replica of the red couch Warhol was photographed on years earlier.

  Finding Gage’s whole Warhol obsession creepy, Leo turned off the computer and stretched. What he needed was to do a little leg work and maybe some interrogation. Danny would be his first target. He’d shake him by the shoulders and question number one would be “What the hell are you thinking taking this case?”

  Chapter 2

  The roof slid off first taking with it the walls and chimney until the entire building collapsed. Frozen in place, Christina stared. Building a gingerbread house wasn’t as easy as her mother had always made it look. Of course, things were never as easy as Daisy Davidson had made them look and now that she was gone, all that remained were ruins of gingerbread, icing and Christina’s life.

  Her shoulders sagged. She dropped her head back to stare up at the ceiling and let out a loud moan. “What the hell ever possessed you to leave me in charge of the bakery? Were you crazy, woman? There’s no way I can run this place the way you did. I’m a bigger mess than this stupid house.”

  “Are you talking to yourself again?” Her brother Clancy walked into the kitchen of Daisy’s Bakery via the back door and hoisted a gigantic bag of flour onto the counter. “People are going to think you’re crazy, you know.”

  Six-foot-four and two hundred pounds of solid muscle, Clancy Davidson commanded attention when he walked into any room. Women drooled over his shiny brown curls and pale green eyes. He should be running the shop, actually he should be running the bloody country but already had a job. A certified genius and computer whiz, every conversation Christina had with him made her head spin. Why he chose to become a tattoo artist was beyond her.

  “Could you pour that into the vat for me? There’s no way I can dump the whole bag in there on my own as fast as you.” Unlike her brother, Christina was five feet of Silly Putty and frizzy brown hair she wrestled into a floppy ponytail each day. She sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want a full-time job?”

  Clancy hoisted the bag with one hand and dumped the contents in the drum. “Thanks, but I already have a couple. I’d love to help you, Sis, but you’re on your own with this place. Why don’t you put an ad in the paper if you need help so badly?”

  “Because psychiatrists charge too much and don’t make house calls.”

  He grinned. “I’ll bet they’d stop by for some of your gingerbread cake.”

  “You like my gingerbread cake?” Christina tilted her head. “Wow, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Hey, how come you haven’t decorated and turned on the Christmas music yet?” He reached for a day old sugar cookie. “Cripes, Mom would’ve had the carols blaring on the first of December and danced around the kitchen while she baked.”

  Christina folded her arms across her chest. Her tank top already damp with sweat. “Yeah? Well, I’m not Mom.”

  “I’m aware of that. You’re shorter, grouchier, and not nearly as much fun.” He walked to the front counter and turned on the radio their dad Mel had installed years ago. A minute later, he’d found a station playing Christmas music and the strains of White Christmas came over the speakers in every corner of the bakery.

  She scowled. “At least you could find something cheerful.”

  “Give it a minute, the song’s almost done. You’ll survive.” A truck backfired in the alley while he flattened the empty flour bag and laid it on the stack by the back door. “You want me to take out the trash? I think it’s garbage day.”

  She glanced at the calendar. If it was still Sunday, she could have stayed in bed and enjoyed her one day in the week off. “Garbage day’s tomorrow. That’s the delivery truck for the bookstore. Katie usually gets stock on Wednesdays, but with Christmas coming, I guess she’s getting a second shipment this week. You should know that better than me, you work next door to the bookstore.”

  “Katie, of course.” Clancy’s pale eyes lit up and he grinned before turning away.

  Was it possible her brother had a crush on the bookstore lady? Too bad for him Katie Mullins was dating a city cop from the gossip she’d overheard.

  “Good morning.” Sophie Jackson called out as she bustled though the front door with an armload of bangles jingling. “Sorry I’m late, Krista. My son slept in and I needed to drop him off at school. Thank goodness it’s almost the holidays.”

  “Big deal. She’s always late and she still can’t get my name right even after two months.” Christina peered into the front of the bakery and waved. She rolled her eyes and muttered to Clancy. “What makes today so different?”

  “At least she’s close.” Clancy smirked. “Well, looks like you’ve got everything under control here, I’d better go open my shop. I’ll come by for lunch later. Are you making calzones today?”

  Despite his dedication to perfecting his body at the gym with some jungle cat trainer he bragged about, the calzones were Clancy’s favorite meal of the day. Dough stuffed with pepperoni, bacon and cheese. She made them every morning and usually sold out before he came in for lunch.

  Christina smiled. “Of course. Yours will be in the microwave.”

  “You rock.” He grinned and kissed the top of her head. He opened the backdoor before he glanced back. “I’m glad you decided to stick around Packham for a while.”

  The cold air sent goose bumps up her bare arms. To combat the heat of the kitchen, she’d gotten into the habit of wearing tank tops beneath her apron while she baked. “Um, correction, I didn’t get to decide. I was shanghaied.”

  Clancy paused and closed the door then looked down at the floor. “I know. Dad didn’t want you to go home yet because of...well, your life.”

  Christina focused her gaze on the dough. She clenched her jaw. “There’s nothing wrong with my life except that I’m stuck here. He doesn’t know a thing about my life in Newville.”

  “Maybe that’s part of the problem. He knows you’re prone to getting sucked into trouble. You’re just too trusting.”

  “Don’t you start nagging me.” Touché. Not like she had much of a life in the city anyway. Nothing anyone here would understand anyway. Her thoughts strayed to Brady, her friends and her teachers at the university.

  Attending school was almost like having a real life, but something was missing that left it more surreal than anything else. Reality was the first word to come to mind. No sane person would ever want to live her life. They’d never understand. The only thing she really missed was strolling around campus and sitting in the Starbucks where she’d met...

  She shook her head. “What did Dad tell you?”

  He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. After a minute, he smirked. “To be honest, I don’t see anyone standing behind you with a gun to your head. You’re free to leave anytime you want. The only thing keeping you here is your sense of obligation to Mom.”

  The chimes in the store tinkled and Sophie ran into the kitchen, saving Clancy from Christina’s wrath. “There’s not much on the shelves. I need fresh buns and ginger snaps. Chop, chop. What have you been doing back here all morning anyway?”

  “Your job.” Christina snapped. Once she’d finished with both Sophie and their customer, she stood alone in the kitchen with a batch of raw dough and a raging fire in her belly.

  “I said I was sorry. My son slept in and then had a melt down because we didn’t have his favorite cereal in the house.” Sophie paused for a dramatic sigh and ran a hand through her chin
-length, auburn hair. “Don’t ever have kids, Krista. They’re nothing but trouble, especially when they’re teenagers.”

  Christina sighed. “My name’s not Krista, it’s Christina.”

  “Whatever.” Sophie waved a hand and walked away.

  As Christina groaned, her argument with Clancy replayed in her mind, adding to the hopelessness of the gingerbread house ruins and the itch to escape. Clancy was a bit like their father in some ways. The biggest commonality was their passion for telling her how she should live her life. If they only knew the kind of life she lived when she wasn’t trapped in Packham.

  Even when she’d finally come back to spend time with her mom and help out with the bakery and her mom’s care, her father had yelled so loud his voice cracked. “I’m not giving you a damned dime until you get a job and take things seriously.”

  “I don’t want your money. I have a job.” Her entire body had filled with indignation. “Besides, you haven’t given me money in years.”

  Mel had poured another glass of scotch. “Posing naked for wannabe artists who shovel drugs and booze in your face isn’t a job. It’s a hobby. Find something that pays or else.”

  Christina had snorted. “What are you going to do about it? Cut me off? You don’t give me money as it is. Besides, any job is better than what you do.”

  “Run the bakery? Hah?” His face reddened. He’d known she was right.

  “You haven’t had anything to do with the bakery since I moved away.” She’d reminded him. “All you’ve done is draw a paycheck from Mom’s hard work and gamble the money away.”

  “You’re a liar.” His eyes darkened.

  “She’s right, isn’t she?” Clancy had asked from the doorway.

  Their father threw his hands in the air. “It’s my money and I have every right to do what I want with it.”

  Christina had flared her nostrils. “Your money that Mom earned. Where were you when things were busy and she couldn’t keep up? Where were you when she juggled her job, her family, and the house? Where were you when she was sick and couldn’t do any of it anymore?”