Going past the bed, she used the bathroom. She felt filthy inside and out, so she took a quick shower. When she returned to their bedroom, Seth was leaning against the bed board, reading a mystery novel.
“I . . .” Ava started.
“No,” Seth said. “Let me start.”
She nodded in acquiescence.
“I had no idea that your father was at the center of this case,” Seth said. “Honestly, I didn’t remember that he was even involved. I simply dismissed him when I was sure he hadn’t killed her.”
“Mom said that he used her murder as leverage to move up in the state,” Ava said. She hiccuped a sob. “So everything, even my job at the Denver Crime Lab — came from this poor child’s murder.”
“Oh, Ava,” Seth said.
He held out his arms, and she threw herself at him. Her head ended up in his lap. He held her for what felt like a long, long time.
“I would never set you up like that,” Seth said. “I just wouldn’t.”
“I know that. I do,” Ava said into his lap. “It’s just that . . .”
“I understand,” Seth said. “What did you learn from your mother?”
Ava sighed. For a moment, she thought about not telling him. If she were a loyal daughter, she would protect her mother from all of this. She sighed.
Then it hit her — this man right here was the only family that mattered to her.
She told him everything. He asked good questions. She surprised herself by having the answers to his questions.
“This is big, Ava,” Seth said. “Bigger than us. You’ve got government officials involved in the murder and rape of a young woman. You’ve got the Sheriff and his deputies of a rural county covering it up to get money out of the state. Your mother’s lies? Your father’s involvement? We don’t have a choice.”
Ava sucked in a breath. She closed her eyes and bit her lip.
“We have to call the FBI,” Seth said.
Ava let out her breath and her lip at the same time. She knew it was the right thing to do. She just . . .
He looked at her. She gave him a vague nod but didn’t respond.
There was a knock on the door, and Maresol stuck her head in.
“Ava?” Maresol asked.
Ava looked up at her.
“Your mother and her husband are here,” Maresol said. “I have given them the guest bedroom on the other side of the house.”
“Why are they here?” Ava asked.
“They decided to go to the FBI tomorrow,” Maresol said.
“We were just talking about that,” Seth said.
“Yes,” Maresol said. “I imagine you were.”
Maresol raised a hand in “good-bye” and left the room.
Ava lay down. Everything hit her like a crushing weight. Her fear and despair when her father had come home upset combined with her adult responsibility. She felt as if an avalanche had blown over her. She gasped for breath.
Seth grabbed her hand.
She opened her eyes to look at him. He gave her a soft smile.
“Sleep,” he said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She fell into a sound sleep.
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Fifteen
Five months later
“It’s on.” Maresol stuck her head into the den to tell Ava.
Ava had been sitting at the kitchen bar in her “quiet time.” Unsure if she wanted to watch, she simply looked at Maresol.
“You want to watch this,” Maresol said. “Don’t worry. He always puts on a good show.”
Maresol went to the coffee table for the remote control to the wide-screen television. She turned on the television and moved it to the right channel. The screen opened to a beautiful female news presenter with long blondish hair and a handsome male news presenter with dark hair, sitting behind a news desk.
“If you’re like us, you’ve been closely following this case,” the woman said.
“I know I have, Josephine,” the man said.
“In 1992, L’Keisha White was assaulted and then killed by some of Colorado’s power brokers,” Josephine the news presenter said. “Ms. White came to the office of then-District Attorney Aaron Alvin for assistance. Ms. White’s grandmother worked for Mr. Alvin, so Ms. White had basically grown up in the office. She expected care and comfort. She received something quite different. Jeff?”
“Instead, she was assaulted and killed,” Jeff the news presenter said.
“Ms. White’s family had all but given up on finding justice for L’Keisha,” Josephine said.
The screen cut to an outdoor interview with L’Keisha White’s grandmother.
“I’d all but given up on finding justice for L’Keisha,” Mrs. White said. “It just seemed like, no matter how hard they tried, they kept running into obstacles. Now we know why.”
The screen cut back to the news presenters.
“Today, we know why this case was so hard to solve,” Jeff said.
“We are going live to the news conference held outside of the federal building,” Josephine said.
The screen shifted to a podium set up on the wide granite patio in front of the Colorado State Capitol. Seth was sitting in a wheelchair to the side. Ava’s mother, Vivian, was standing next to him. The Denver Chief of Police was standing just off the microphone. He was flanked by the Commander in charge of Major Crimes and the head of the Denver Cold Case Unit. The FBI agent who’d taken over the case was standing just behind him with his supervisor and the Chief of the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. Ava’s supervisor from the Denver Crime Lab was standing next to the FBI Division head.
Someone said something, and the Chief of Police moved to the microphone.
“We are here today to update you on the resolution of the assault and murder of L’Keisha White,” the Chief of Police said. “This case has shaken the core of Denver and the state government. If not for the work of our staff at the Denver Crime Lab, as well as the witnesses who came forward, we may not have been able to resolve Ms. White’s murder.”
“Based on the evidence found in the victim’s clutch bag, we have taken into custody the heads of the Colorado Department of Labor and Employment, the head of the Colorado Department of Revenue, the head of the Colorado Department of Transportation, as well as two sitting chairs of the Public School Fund Investment Board.”
“Detective O’Malley spent two days interviewing retired Chief Justice Len Bartholomew before he died,” the Chief of Police said. “Mr. Bartholomew went into minute detail of the events that led up to Ms. White’s murder as well as the many years of influence peddling by Mr. Aaron Alvin that continued after. Mr. Bartholomew identified . . .”
The Chief of Police sniffed and made a slight sneer.
“Mr. Jacoby of the Department of Labor and Employment as the individual who ended the girl’s life,” the Chief of Police said. “Our team at the Denver Crime Lab identified enough evidence that he has since confessed. He is in custody, awaiting sentencing. We also have the current as well as the retired Kiowa County Sheriff in custody.”
The Chief of Police moved away from the microphone so that the FBI Division Chief could speak.
“We have investigated the grant given to Ms. O’Malley and her team at the Denver Crime Lab,” the FBI Agent said. “We have found that the grant was given for the express purpose of resolving this particular cold case.”
He looked at the Chief of the CBI. The Chief stepped forward.
“We’ve determined to continue the cold-case grant,” the CBI Chief said. “We were unable to find a connection between the reason the grant was awarded and the scientists who worked to resolve this case. It’s our opinion that Ms. O’Malley went above and beyond what was required of her.”
The CBI nodded to the camera and stepped back.
“It’s a tremendous win,” Dr. Quincy said as she rolled into the den in a wheelchair.
Her husband followed behind her. Dr. Quincy was rec
overing from the surgery to remove her colon cancer.
“Great work, Ava,” David Quincy, the Director of Criminal Justice Information Services at the FBI said. “If you need our help in the future, I do hope you’ll let us know.”
Ava gave him a vague nod. Unsure what to do, Ava turned off the television.
“What will happen with the other remains?” Maresol asked.
“The archaeological remains?” Dr. Quincy asked.
Maresol nodded.
“Nothing,” Ava said. “Usually, each county decides what they want to do with historic remains. Since the Sheriff of Kiowa County is awaiting trial, the remains are in limbo.”
Ava shrugged.
“They are waiting for a decision at History Colorado,” Ava said. “We’re planning to keep plugging away at it. But there isn’t much we can do.”
“Did you ever talk to that strange woman?” Maresol asked.
“O’Malley did,” Ava said. “She’s a part of this.”
Ava gestured to the dark television.
“She saw my parents give the remains to the Sheriff and watched Pete Cabrón, the now-Sheriff, bury the girl on her land,” Ava said. “He thought it would implicate her and her family.”
“Why?” Maresol asked.
“I guess she’s a well-known pain in the ass,” Ava said. “When she wasn’t implicated, they threatened her to keep her mouth shut.”
“And these historic remains?” Maresol asked.
“She wouldn’t talk to O’Malley about it,” Ava said. “She said that we hadn’t made a great-enough effort to be ‘worthy’ of her information.”
Ava shrugged.
“Time to move on,” Ava said.
“And the cases are piling up,” Dr. Quincy said. “We start a new one next Monday?”
Ava nodded.
“I’ve fielded calls from law enforcement all over the state,” Ava said. “They don’t care that my mother was implicated. They care that we solved the case. We’re expected to continue on for at least nine more.”
“I’ve been told that you can do as many as you want,” David Quincy said. “You’ve proven yourself to be honest, and your team is certainly talented. You could easily spend the rest of your career working these cases.”
“And is that okay with you?” Maresol asked.
“I’ve signed up to do ten,” Ava said. “These people deserve justice. After that, we’ll see what the team wants to do.”
“What will happen with your mother?” Dr. Quincy asked.
“She got ten years’ probation,” Ava said. “Some community service and a big fine, which O’Malley’s already paid. A publisher is talking to her about writing a book on her experience with Aaron and this case. So, we’ll see.”
“Where is the team?” Dr. Quincy asked. “I thought they would be here to enjoy the win.”
“I gave them a few days off,” Ava said. “We’ve been grinding through this physical evidence. Early mornings, late nights, all-nighters — it’s been ‘All hands on deck.’ I’m the weakest lab member, and I was in the lab every single day for a month. That wig! You told us it would be a treasure trove of evidence, and it was.”
“Where’d you find it?” Dr. Quincy asked.
“In those old evidence boxes,” Ava said with a nod.
“It was there all along,” Dr. Quincy said.
Ava nodded.
“Anyway, the team deserves a few days off just to catch their breath,” Ava said. “You do, as well.”
Dr. Quincy smiled at Ava and looked up at her husband.
“What are you going to do now?” Maresol asked Ava.
“Sleep,” Ava said. She grinned at Maresol. “Read a book.”
“So you’re not going with O’Malley to Venice?” Maresol asked.
Ava grinned.
“Surprise,” Maresol said. “Go get packed. He should be home soon. You know how he gets.”
Ava hugged Maresol.
“Have a wonderful time!” Dr. Quincy said.
Ava waved at her and ran to pack.
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Never read a Seth and Ava Mystery?
There are four longer books where Seth is in charge.
The books have the same characters and are set in Colorado. The mysteries tend to focus around weird things that happen in Colorado.
Here’s the first chapter of the Tax Assassin! You can find the book anywhere you purchase eBooks.
Enjoy.
The Tax Assassin
A Seth and Ava Mystery
Claudia Hall Christian
Cook Street Publishing
Denver, CO
Copyright Cook Street Publishing and Claudia Hall Christian, October 2012
ONE
The Tax Assassin
“So you think she’s coming back?”
Seth O’Malley looked up from the ancient upright piano he was playing.
“You asked me the same thing last night,” his friend and housekeeper, Maresol Tafoya said, as she leaned against the doorframe.
“I don’t remember what you said.” His fingers continued their dance along the keys, unleashing a familiar tune.
“Otch.” She moved into the room to pick up a crystal tumbler sitting next to the couch. “You’re drinking! Twenty years of sobriety gone! Just like that. The girl’s only been gone twelve hours.”
He felt his back burn from the heat of her glare. He continued playing until he was forced to respond.
“Dale,” Seth said of their resident handyman. “He was here for a while last night. Plus, it’s Scotch. I hate Scotch. Smell it.”
She held the glass to her nose and nodded.
“It’s ten?” he asked.
“It’s ten,” she said.
“You’re late for work,” he said.
She shook her head at him. She’d been his housekeeper since he’d graduated from Eastman School of Music more than four decades ago. They were closer than family and more comfortable than lovers. She went to the small, built-in bar along the wall and washed the crystal tumbler. She set it in the cabinet before wiping down the sink and bar. Tidying the room, she folded his mother’s hand-stitched quilt and laid it across the back of the leather couch.
“Well?” he continued playing.
“Do I think she’s coming back?” Maresol kneeled down to sweep the ashes from the fireplace.
“Would you mind telling me again?” he asked.
“I think she’s having a very difficult time,” Maresol said. “She’s had a lot of hard, horrible times that would break most young people. I understand why she wants to be with her mother now; so do you. She wouldn’t have gone if you hadn’t encouraged her.”
“But?”
“Yes. I do think she’s coming back to you, old man.”
“Old man?” He smiled.
“You’ll be fifty-nine in a few months,” she said.
“And you?”
“Otch, don’t be mean,” she clucked and set up another fire in the fireplace. “Maybe you should start drinking again.”
He laughed. Standing up, she put her hands on her hips to survey the small, wood-paneled room.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” He stopped playing and turned to look at her. She scowled at him. “You’re right. I’m an ass. I’m sorry.”
“You have a guest,” she said.
“Who?” he asked.
“One of your war buddies,” Maresol said. “He asked to speak with you in private, then had the nerve to ask if I was making rellenos for lunch.”
He smiled.
“I wasn’t planning to make rellenos for lunch.” She gave him a sour look. He chuckled and she shook her head. “Should I send him down?”
“Who is it?”
“McArthur, McAudry,” Maresol shook her head.
“McGinty?” Seth asked.
“Sure,” Maresol said. Switching to Spanish, she added, “All you old white men look and so
und the same to me.”
Seth laughed.
“Go,” Maresol said. “Wash up. You’ve been up all night, and you smell of worry.”
“You think he’ll care?”
“I care,” she said. “I’ll bring him down on the elevator. With Ava gone, your puppy needs a walk. I set clean clothing for you in the bathroom.”
Seth watched Maresol leave the room. His fingers itched to return to the quiet space provided by the song and this hand-me-down piano. He’d touched the keys for the first time when he was four years old and had written his first concerto right here when he was eight years old. He returned to the sanctuary of this piano whenever he could.
He grunted when he stood. His stiff joints were the only remnants of almost dying from First Responder’s Toxin. He made a slow, stiff journey to the full bath he’d installed in his father’s precious den. Five minutes, a brutally hot shower, and a fast shave later, he was playing the piano again.
He looked up to see Maresol holding the elbow of his old friend, McGinty. His hair and clothing were clean, but an indentation around the oxygen cannula in his nose and his unkempt fingernails told a tale of a long hospital stay. Seth stood to greet his friend. Maresol left the room to make chile rellenos.
“Before you ask,” McGinty’s voice came out in gasps. “I got the sarcoid like Mitch.”
Seth nodded. His best friend, Mitch Delgado, died from sarcoidosis almost ten years ago.
“Rained Agent Orange on us,” McGinty said. “Didn’t it, Magic?”
“Rain?” Seth smiled. “The tunnels flooded with the stuff. I still taste it in my dreams.”
“Nightmares. You ever go see the museum they made out of hell?”
“No.”
The finality of Seth’s ‘No’ spoke volumes. McGinty shuffled to the couch. As if he’d walked a long way, his eyes closed with relief when his ass hit the cushion. Seth sat on the piano bench and waited for his friend to collect himself. When he was ready, McGinty opened his eyes and looked around the room.
“How ‘bout you, Magic?” McGinty asked. “Anything?”
Little Girl Blue, a Seth and Ava Mystery Page 10