by N. C. Lewis
"It's been such a busy week," Amy began. "So busy that I haven't told you about Mrs. X—"
"Mrs. X?" Nick hadn't wanted to interrupt but couldn’t help himself. "Who is Mrs. X?"
"Mrs. X was Chloe Foreman, and she hired…"
When Amy had finished, Nick understood.
"I'm at a loss for words," he said at last. "There'll be other clients. Your business is less than a year old. Mrs. Foreman's death is a pure coincidence."
"But who would've done such a thing to an innocent person, and why?" Amy's voice trembled with indignation.
"Let's wait for the medical examiner's report," Nick suggested. "The body was discovered yesterday morning, and there isn't much in the file right now. Things slow down over the weekend. I'm sure we'll know more Monday."
"But Nick!" Amy pleaded. "Tell me what you think."
Nick had worked as a detective in homicide. Now he headed up the lollipop liaison unit—a two-person team that worked with local schools to improve traffic safety. He disliked the job, hoped to move back to criminal investigations, but city hall politics prevented that at present.
"Looks suspicious," Nick admitted. "Back in the day, a detective would have already hit the streets. Standard drill—talk to acquaintances, family, and friends—but the police department is so overstretched. They'll assign a detective to the case, eventually. "
Amy couldn’t wait. She knew how slow the police department moved. "What about Mary Wilson; could she work it on the side?" Detective Wilson was a close family friend. Nick had encouraged Mary to join the police department. Later, he recommended her to the position of detective.
"She's in Montana, on vacation. When she gets back, there are a dozen active cases on her plate, and half a dozen or more cold cases."
Amy let out a frustrated sigh. "This city eats our tax dollars and gives us so little in return!"
"It's politics," Nick said. "Unless the chief comes under political pressure, I don't think the case will get much airplay. It rarely does when Jane Doe dies." Nick regretted his words. It was late, he had already said too much.
"How can I rest knowing Chloe Foreman's killer is still at large?" Amy stared at Nick through those big eyes that had attracted him to her over twenty-two years ago—wide, vulnerable, lovely. "What if they strike again, and again!"
"Hope not," Nick replied, waiting for his wife to go on.
"Nick, I won't deny Mrs. Foreman's death is a financial blow to my new business, but now I've had time to think about things that's not what troubles me. Mrs. Foreman's murder feels personal. She was going to offer Studio Shoal Seven work. I can't sit on my hands and do nothing. I can't!" Tears formed in Amy's eyes.
Nick mumbled a sympathetic sound but didn't say anything.
Amy gazed at her husband, her eyes wide, unblinking. "Let me do a little digging…with Danielle…like we did in the bookstore murder case. It can't hurt." Amy didn't ask Nick to get involved, although she knew he would.
"I'm skeptical," Nick said but knew he couldn't refuse. He wondered whether Lieutenant Kostopoulos would give him the green light, decided not to ask. I'll work this one under the radar, he thought, ask for forgiveness later if it blows up on me.
They talked some more about the death of Mrs. Foreman, about their upcoming grandchildren, about their secret trip to London to visit Zach and Victoria, and about how happy they were now that Noel and Ruby seemed to be getting along so well.
It was two in the morning when, in the comfort of Nick's arms, Amy felt sleep come to her. She knew her rest would be brief, that in a few short hours she'd face the grisly facts surrounding Chloe Foreman's brutal murder, but for now, she snuggled into the arms of her husband and drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Chapter 14
Saturday morning was cooler, with high white clouds that glided swiftly in irregular formations across a light blue sky. The animal sanctuary was on the far edge of town, along a narrow, winding county lane scattered with ranch houses and farms. It was a pretty drive especially this time of the year, what with the rolling hills dotted with livestock and the handwritten signs advertising fresh eggs, fruits, and vegetables.
Amy sipped black coffee from a travel mug, enjoying the scenery and wondering if many people would show up for the open house. She saw the tiny sign for the sanctuary at the last moment and swung the car left onto a potholed track.
For several minutes she snaked along the narrow pathway eventually coming out into a large, open field filled with parked cars and trucks. The shouts of children, the occasional bark of a dog, and the low mumble of adult voices filled the air. A sea of people strolled toward a collection of buildings set in a grove of oak trees. "This place is more popular than I thought," Amy said as she moved with the crowd.
At the entrance a young girl about seventeen, with blue eyes, curly hair, and a shy smile held up a large poster—ASK ME A QUESTION. I AM HERE TO HELP. Most people walked by without giving the girl a second glance. They must be regulars, Amy thought, as she turned to speak with the girl. "Do you know Auntie Folate?"
The girl smiled through her braces. "Everyone knows Auntie Folate. She's in the bird aviary. You better hurry, it's one of our most popular spots. Her demonstration has already started." The girl stopped speaking and pointed. "The bird aviary is the flat-roofed building at the end of the courtyard."
The aviary was cool with a musky ferret odor mixed with ripe undertones that reminded Amy of honey. There was a dizzying array of birds. Many looked familiar, although Amy didn't know their types or species.
A crowd gathered in a semicircle at the far end. "The mission of the shelter is to assist wild animals in need through rescue, rehabilitation, and education," boomed Auntie Folate. She stood on a raised platform, her eyes bright with excitement, arms gesticulating wildly. "Now, can anyone tell me the name of the birds in this cage?" She pointed at a group of brightly colored birds with splashes of reds, greens, and purples across their feathered bodies. Each had a hooked orange beak, and they made a tremendous squawking sound.
They looked like parrots to Amy, but so did all the other birds.
A seventh grader raised her hand. "That's easy, miss! They are black-capped lories."
"Do you know what they like to eat?" asked Auntie Folate with a knowing grin.
The girl folded her arms as if the question was beneath her grade level and jutted out her chin. "Pollen, nectar, flowers, fruits, and insects."
Auntie Folate clapped her hands. "As you already know, young lady, they are very intelligent birds and need plenty of toys to keep them busy."
"And they can learn to speak," the girl interjected. "Just like we humans, but even better."
"Yes, that's correct. These birds love clowning around. They are a lot of fun to watch."
Amy left the aviary and wandered around. She'd plan to catch up with Auntie Folate later. As she stepped onto a dirt path that ran between the buildings, a metal object hurtled toward her almost knocking her to the ground.
"Oh no! Sorry about that," cried a woman sitting in a wheelchair. Her thin, crouched body gave a quick, nervous kind of jerk and she smiled apologetically. "I haven't quite got the hang yet. Are you okay?"
Amy swiveled around, placing her hands on her hips and looked down into the face of a woman with pockmarked cheeks and sunken eyes. Her blanched, sallow complexion reminded Amy of a specter she had seen dancing with ghostly steps in a Día de Muertos parade in downtown Austin.
"I'm fine," Amy said almost automatically, and wondering what ailment had the woman looking so sickly. "No bones broken, but please watch where..." Her voice trailed off as she gazed with wide eyes into the woman's lap. A fluffy, white ball with two huge blue eyes stared nervously back. "That's so cute, what is it?"
"This is Maxi," the woman cooed, patting the fluffy ball. "She's a baby Nigerian dwarf goat, only three days old. Her mother died, so I'm taking care of her." The woman glanced up. "I'm Lizzie, Lizzie Dawson, and I work as a volunteer."
Maxi bleated. It was a long slow sound, reminiscent of a baby's wail. Lizzie patted Maxi. "I'm on my way to the small barn to settle her down. Why don't you come over after you've looked around, and I'll show you some of our other orphaned and sick animals."
"I'll do that," Amy replied, filled with a sudden pang of guilt for never having visited the animal sanctuary before. I may not know a budgerigar from a black-capped lory, she thought, but I'm grateful there are people who do.
It was two hours later that Amy found herself back in the aviary. She'd seen a tiger, ring-tailed lemur, potbellied pigs, and signed up to sponsor a Galapagos tortoise named Billy. The earlier crowds had gone. Auntie Folate was adding water to a bird feeder. "Amy, I'm so glad you made it today."
Amy noticed a slight stoop in her shoulders, and the twinkle that had been in her eyes earlier was gone. Something was wrong. "This place keeps you busy," Amy said, wondering if she wanted to talk.
"I've volunteered at the sanctuary since it was only a handful of cages in a disused house. That's more years than I care to count. I wouldn't change it for the world; I love it. But, yes, today has been a challenge."
Amy seized the opportunity. "How so?"
Auntie Folate let out a heavy sigh. "A good friend and a volunteer at the sanctuary passed away yesterday."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
Auntie Folate tried a little smile. "Death is part of life, I've seen enough to take it on the chin, but not murder. That, I just don't understand."
A sudden weakness gripped Amy's legs. It couldn't be, could it? She had to ask. "Is your friend's name Chloe Foreman?"
Auntie Folate's face froze into an expression of astonishment. "How did you know? It wasn't in the newspaper." Then she looked at Amy with hopeful eyes. "Were you and Mrs. Foreman friends?"
Amy shook her head, looked sympathetic, but not knowing what to say gave Auntie Folate a hug. Finally, she said, "Mrs. Foreman wanted to hire my staging business. I've no idea what for."
"Oh, she planned to expand into a pet café. It was probably for that."
"Really?"
"Mrs. Foreman always talked about her plans in our weekly call." Her voice broke. "I…I'm looking after Percy; he was her budgie, a gift from her assistant Lizzie Dawson. He is good company for my Charlie. Lately, she'd gotten mixed up with the folks at the Temple on Twelfth Street… I tried to warn her."
"Sage Oats?"
Auntie Folate's eyes narrowed. "Went through one of his prosperity ceremonies. Too woo-woo for me."
"Did it work?"
"She seemed to think so." Auntie Folate lowered her voice. "I only know that because I spoke with her on the telephone the night she…was killed and poor Percy became an orphan!"
Amy stared hard at Auntie Folate. "What time did you speak with her?"
"Around eleven p.m. or a little after. We spoke for maybe twenty minutes." Auntie Folate paused. "She was definitely alive then, and she would have left before midnight. So, I guess between eleven twenty and twelve was when the Beast of MoPac struck."
"The Beast of MoPac?"
"That's what the ladies in my luncheon circle are calling him. I do hope the police catch him soon."
Amy was surprised at how much Auntie Folate knew. Maybe, she thought, the little old lady also had some deep insight into the identity of the killer. "What makes you think the Beast of MoPac is a man?"
She tapped her nose. "I have inside information." She glanced over Amy's shoulder. "And here he comes now."
A tall, slim man, north of sixty, wearing an expensive single-breasted suit strode up to the two women.
"Let me introduce you to Mr. Sartain," Auntie Folate said to Amy.
He smiled, took Amy's hand and made a little bow. "Pleased to meet you, Miss...?"
"Mrs. Amy King," Amy said, withdrawing her hand.
"Ah! All the beauties are taken," he replied in a resigned voice. "It's not easy being a wealthy bachelor!" He turned to Auntie Folate. "How are things going?"
"I was just telling Amy about Mrs. Foreman and Rumpus House. It is such a tragic loss."
"Indeed," he said, gazing intently at Amy. "Such a tragic loss."
Auntie Folate tuned to Amy. "Why don't you join us at Rumpus House this coming Tuesday. A group of friends is gathering to help clean up the store."
"And bring any surplus supplies back here to the sanctuary," Mr. Sartain added.
"I'm not sure," Amy replied.
"Please! We'll need all the help we can get," Auntie Folate begged. "Bring a friend as well."
"Okay, I'll help out. Maybe it will help me get a better handle on Mrs. Foreman and her business."
Mr. Sartain blinked, rubbed his chin, then stared at Amy. "If you're interested in finding out about Mrs. Foreman's business you'd better speak with her personal assistant, Lizzie Dawson. I believe she volunteers here at the sanctuary."
Chapter 15
Even though Nick didn't have to be in his car on the way to the police department headquarters at ten thirty this Saturday morning, he had a mission. First, he'd check the computer database for an updated copy of Mrs. Foreman's case file. Second, track down Officer Rees Jones to get his account. Third, and most important, he had to carry out his investigation under the radar. This meant avoiding his partner, Officer Bob Chambers, and his boss, Lieutenant Kostopoulos.
Chambers would be easy, he was a nine-to-five cop and wouldn't be in the office on Saturday morning. Officer Chambers enjoyed donuts and was, to put it politely, a rather rotund, languid character who enjoyed long lunches but was fastidious about leaving work exactly on the dot of five.
As Nick turned his car into the parking garage he said with a wry smile, "Chambers is probably sleeping off the effects of two dozen donuts."
Nick climbed out of his car worrying about Lieutenant Kostopoulos. The lieutenant, Nick thought with growing frustration, would never allow him to work the case. Lieutenant Kostopoulos was a policy and procedures cop. He followed orders, given by the chief, to the letter. The chief in turn, took direction from city hall. School traffic safety resonated louder with the politicians than the slaying of another Jane Doe, especially with elections looming. That meant Nick would have to stay on his lollipop duties. It wasn't personal, just politics.
Nick walked quickly to the bank of elevators with the feeling that at any moment Lieutenant Kostopoulos' hand would come down heavily on his shoulder putting an end to his plans. The thought entered his mind as he stepped into the elevator. It still lingered as he stepped out.
Almost at once, as he hurried along the corridor that led to the offices, he ran into Lieutenant Kostopoulos.
"Detective King! What brings you here bright and early this Saturday morning?" The lieutenant wasn't smiling.
Nick spoke fast, a little too fast. "Amy's out visiting the animal sanctuary, and there aren't enough hours in the day. I thought I'd make use of a little free time to catch up."
Lieutenant Kostopoulos listened intently, his eyes scanning Nick's face. At length he blinked, folded his arms. "Try walking in my shoes for a day," he grumbled.
"No thank you, sir."
The lieutenant chuckled. "Guess that's true. I understand now why no one else raised their hand when the vacancy became available all those years ago!"
Nick was feeling comfortable now. It was clear something preoccupied the lieutenant, and for once it wasn't Detective King. "I don't think any of the current crowd would step forward to take your position, so keep on doing what you are doing. We are all grateful."
Lieutenant Kostopoulos laughed out loud. "Can't say I'd have signed up for the post if I understood all it involved." He scratched his chin. "Well, I better get going."
Nick let out a quiet sigh of relief.
The lieutenant strolled toward his office. At the door he stopped, turned.
"Detective King, you didn't say what you are working on. Why are you here Saturday morning?" The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
A sensation of mild depression washed over Nick, with visions of his barely started investigation brought to a halt and kicked into the long grass. He needed a convincing answer, didn't have one.
Brring-brring ... Brring-brring.
The urgent clamor of the telephone came from behind the closed office door. The lieutenant rested his hand on the doorknob but didn't speak for several moments. "Catch up with you later." He pushed the door open slowly and disappeared from Nick's view.
Nick felt a surge of triumph as he threaded through the open-plan office toward his desk. Maybe he would get away with working this case under the radar. Once he had access to the updated computer file, the case might crack wide open. Often all it took was a pair of eyes on the details, and with no detective yet assigned, he'd be the first to review the facts. Perhaps, he thought with rising optimism, Mrs. Foreman's death will be one of the easy cases.
Nick nodded with a cheerful smile as he strolled by a handful of weekend employees. Then he turned the corner that led to his desk.
And stood as still as a statue.
Officer Chambers sat with his size fourteens up on the desk, eyes half-closed. He wore a worn jacket held in place over his bulging stomach by a single button. An open carton of donuts rested, lid up, by his side. Between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, he held two of the sugar-frosted confections and was trying to cram both simultaneously into his open mouth.
"Mmm, mmm, delicious. Just as nature intended," he said, turning as if by some sixth sense, to glance at Nick. "Detective King," Chambers continued without surprise, "I'm sampling a selection of Mrs. Naturals all organic vegan donuts. They have an unusual earthy flavor with a pleasant tang of sweetness hinted at by the organic sugar frosting. Would you care for one?"
Nick ignored the question. "Chambers, what are you doing here? It's Saturday!"
Chambers crammed the remnants of the donuts into his mouth, munched furiously, then licked his fingers, and with a satisfied click of his tongue said, "Human Resources! They said I was five hours under last month. Damn clock watchers! I thought I'd better come in today to make it up, it's the only day Mrs. Naturals runs their donut specials—Two dozen for the price of one."