Sandie James Mysteries Box Set

by Tessa Kelly

  “I guess.” I turned to the shelf that held the containers with the multi-colored sprinkles the customer wanted on the tutu. "It's just that this is all happening so fast. I won’t be able to give Kath a notice. How’s she going to manage?”

  “I’m sure she’ll understand,” Felisha said. “She knows you’re working here on a temporary basis until you find something in your field.”

  “Except, this job is pretty far removed from what I actually want to do with my life. Also, I’ll miss seeing you guys every day.”

  Felisha grinned. “Now you’re coming up with excuses. I think you’re just getting cold feet, like before a wedding. A new job is a commitment. You know?” She took a long sip from the large iced coffee standing next to her on the table before picking up the pastry bag again. “You’ll have to pay your dues, Sandie. That’s how it works. No one starts out with their dream job. Money Tycoon is just a stepping stone to where you’re going. You should definitely take the job. Follow your dreams, right?”

  Was fear of change the true reason behind my hesitation?

  I’d always thought of myself as brave. Perhaps I’d been wrong. Maybe I was simply scared of leaving the safety of my familiar life and plunging into the unknown.

  In that case, there was only one way to beat a fear. You had to face it head-on.

  “Okay," I said. "You’re right. Thanks for the pep talk.”

  Getting back to work, I left the cake for a minute to turn on the big mixer and measured out the ingredients for the peanut butter bars. The rich brown batter began to churn, sending up delicious smells of peanut butter. My thoughts began to churn with it again.

  Was working for Money Tycoon really my dream? All this time, I had thought I knew what I wanted. Now, suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. And what about the investigation? Far from being complete, it now looked like the wrong person was going to be charged with the murders. Besides, until the real killer was caught, there was no real guarantee Dad was off the hook. How could I go off into the city and abandon him in the middle of a crisis? Especially when I was so close to the solution. So close, and yet not close enough. It was right under my fingertips but still eluded me, refusing to get pinned down. Pieces of the puzzle were still missing, and I sure wasn’t going to find them on Wall Street.

  AFTER WORK, I WALKED over to Dad’s, getting there just as he was closing up the book shop for the night. I couldn't help noticing his hunched shoulders and the look of sadness in his eyes, rimmed with dark circles. But he greeted me with a smile.

  “Hey, kid. Come on in, I was just about to make a pitcher of my specialty iced tea.”

  It was exactly what I needed. “Sounds great, Dad.”

  Ten minutes later, we sat in the shabby armchairs in his office, and Dad poured two tall glasses of his iced tea, the ‘specialty’ part being the splash of brandy he added to it.

  “I was going to call you today,” he said, “so it’s good you came by. Can you close up the shop tomorrow? Josh asked for the night off, he’s got an art thing. And I've got a darts tournament with the guys at the pub. Would hate to miss that.”

  He hadn't even mentioned Dora, which meant her death hit him much harder than I thought. I wondered if he was in denial. But he was obviously not ready to talk about any of it, and I knew not to push the matter. He would open up in his own time. If not, it would be pointless trying to coax it out of him.

  Taking my cue from his silence, I sipped my iced tea. It had a nice kick to it. “Sure, Dad. I’ll close the shop. No problem.”

  Not to mention, I could use the extra money as I was still woefully short on rent.

  Marlowe trotted in and made his place at Dad’s chair, resting his head on Dad’s feet. Dad bent down to rub the dog’s head. He settled back again, his eyes fixing on me.

  “So? What’s the trouble?”

  I blinked. “What makes you think there’s any trouble?”

  “Because you’ve got it written all over your wrinkled forehead.”

  “Wrinkled?!” I grabbed a compact mirror from my shoulder bag and examined my face in the lamplight. It was smooth, not a wrinkle in sight.

  He chuckled. “Gotcha.”

  “Dad, that’s mean.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. But I’m your dad, Sandie. I can tell when you’re worried about something.”

  I didn’t want to talk about my interview with The Money Tycoon again. Instead, I jabbed my finger at the sage-green Manila folder still lying on his desk. “Why do you have it out, Dad?”

  He picked up the folder and opened it, looking pensive. “Nostalgia, I guess. Was going through some of the old stuff in the attic and found your stories. Wanted to give them another look, thought I might have them made into a book. They’re quite good.”

  I smiled. “You sure you’re not just missing the way things used to be when Mom was alive and we were kids and living here?”

  “Suppose that’s part of it,” he conceded. “But your mom and I thought you had a real talent for writing.”

  I laughed. “You were my parents, you had to think that.”

  “Ahh, Sandie.” He clucked his tongue. “You know your mother didn’t give praise where it wasn’t due.”

  I reached for the folder and leafed through it. “You really think they're good?”

  He nodded, tracing the beads of condensation on his glass. “Shame you didn’t stick with it, though.”

  “Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t,” I said.

  “Guess it wasn’t your passion.”

  “I guess not.” But I wondered.

  I sank back against the chair and looked at the first editions of Raymond Chandler on the bookshelf behind the glass. The books that had become the source of so much trouble for us lately. “Speaking of passion, are you going to temper your collecting from now on? I mean, after everything that’s happened?”

  Dad took a long drink of his tea and set the glass on his desk. I kept myself from wincing. Dad had never had much truck with coasters. “Probably not,” he said after a moment. “Life’s too short, Sandie. You should have the courage to go after your dreams, even if they give you a major headache at times. Just make sure they really are your dreams, and not what other people think you should want.”

  I frowned, all my recent doubts and fears stirring up again. “How do I know if my dreams are my own?”

  “Oh, you’ll know.” He leaned back with a faraway look in his eyes, nodding to himself as he spoke. “It’s the things that make your soul sing. They give you that feeling of floating on air, so to speak. Dreams are like secret passages inside you, Sandie. Ones that are truly yours will lead you to the light, the others only into a dead-end. So make sure you choose the right ones.”

  I stared at him, the glass frozen on its way up to my lips.

  It was that moment they talk about. The Thunderbolt. Dad’s words had been what I had needed all along, the final nudge to push all the pieces of the puzzle into place.

  Setting the glass down, I jumped to my feet. “Dad, this was great, but I’ve got to go. Thanks so much for the tea and the talk!”

  Leaving him to stare after me with his mouth open, I rushed downstairs and out onto the evening street.

  Will!

  I needed to see my brother and tell him everything. But as I walked a few steps, I paused, suddenly wavering.

  No. It was too soon to go to Will. I had the puzzle firmly in place, but it was still only a theory. I had no proof, and no strategy to force the killer from the shadows.

  What I really needed was to be alone and think things through. I picked a direction at random and started walking. Before I knew it, the long stretch of the Brooklyn promenade was before me, and the jagged Manhattan skyline glittered with hundreds of lights across the East River. I leaned against the iron railing and stared into the dark water below. As I stood there, a plan of action began to form in my mind.

  I had been right not to go to Will, because, for this to work, I would have to act alone. The law was
less restricting on civilians like me, but Will could easily lose his job if he got involved.

  My pulse quickened with excitement. Yes, I could do this. But to implement my plan, I would first have to take several steps of preparation, and that included paying a visit to an acquaintance. I nodded to myself.

  Tomorrow.

  Chapter 14

  It was early morning when my train arrived at the station. The warm breeze greeted me as I stepped through the sliding doors and out onto the open platform. Empty, which was not surprising. At this hour, I was the only one making the journey downtown. The uptown platform on the other side was full of people. Heading off to their jobs in the city.

  The doors closed behind me and clamor filled the air as the train sped away. One after the other, the cars flashed past me, empty save for a couple of teenagers in the last car, probably skipping out on school to bum around at the beach.

  The half-curious eyes of the crowd on the other side followed me as I put away my phone, making sure to erase the browsing history. Just in case. Then I walked to the end of the platform and descended the long metal stairwell to street level.

  Dense rows of low buildings stretched out before me in four directions, their uniformity broken up by regular cross streets. This was a commercial street. As in my neighborhood, most of the ground floors were taken up by small businesses, eateries, and storefronts.

  An Italian bakery on the corner stretched out its feelers to me, trying to rope me in with tantalizing whiffs of freshly-baked bread and something else I couldn’t identify. It beckoned, at once spicy and sweet, unrelentingly daring me to go in. My mouth watered at the thought of a fresh cannoli, and I turned toward the bakery like a homing pigeon.

  Snap out of it, Sandie!

  I gave myself a mental slap. Italian pastries weren’t the reason I’d made the forty-minute train ride to downtown Brooklyn this morning. Of course, I could compromise and get the cannolis on my way back. But, business first.

  I scanned the surroundings, checking the numbers in the nearest buildings and verifying them with the address I had on my phone, then headed up the street, leaving the massive steel pillars of the above-ground subway behind me.

  The house was located at the end of a tree-lined residential street, five blocks from the waterfront that carried down whiffs of fresh salty air. Officially, the business provided car maintenance and repair services, but behind the scenes, the owner’s dealings were on the shadier side. It wasn’t the sort of place I would normally set foot in, but I needed to talk to one of its employees.

  Stopping in front of the open doors, I took a deep breath before walking into the darkened space. This was a first for me.

  A short man in a greasy dark shirt and dark stubble over half his face came out of the side door, wiping his hands on his gray overalls. “Hello, toots. What can I do you for?”

  “I need to see Bennie,” I said. “Is he here today?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  I turned around to face a tall, gangly man with a cropped haircut and very black eyes under thick dark eyebrows. Bennie having a prior arrest record and an inside track with the seedier side of Brooklyn led him to occasionally serve as an unofficial informant for the police. I’d met him once on a police ride along with Will, but it was over two years ago, and I doubted he still remembered me.

  “I’m Sandra James,” I said. “You know my brother, William.”

  “Oh, right, right. You came for that part he ordered?” His eyes darted shiftily over my shoulder to the man in the overalls, probably worrying his boss would find out Bennie was having regular dealings with the police.

  The man jabbed his chin at Bennie. “You got this one?”

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s cool, Tony.”

  Before I could say anything, he grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me to the other side of the shop where a dark car stood, missing its front wheels. Glancing behind me, I saw the older man retreating into his office with a look of disinterest.

  I cleared my throat. “Uh... Bennie, I didn’t come for a part.”

  He lowered his voice. “I know, I know. But your bro, whatever he wants this time, tell him I don’t got no news for him. Tell him not to come here asking, I don’t want no trouble with the boss. Okay?”

  “Sure. But I’m here for myself, not for my brother.” Also lowering my voice, I added, “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He frowned. “Like a favor or something?”

  “Of course not. I’ll pay.” Though I’d have to dip into my rent money for that. My insides clenched with worry, but I forced myself to relax. This had to be done. It was more important than rent.

  Bennie’s eyes brightened. “Okay. What do you want?”

  “I need you to make me a bump key.”

  He whistled. “What, you’re going into crime? A cop’s sister?”

  “No, I’m not! I’m trying to help someone who’s in trouble, to prove they’re innocent. But I can’t do that without a bump key.”

  “Look, lady.” Bennie raised his hands in protest. “I don’t want no more trouble with the law.”

  “You won’t have any trouble,” I assured him. “It’s just a bump key, it’s not like I’m asking you for a gun or anything. Trust me, you’ll only earn points with my brother if you help me out.”

  At the mention of my brother, he wavered, chewing the inside of his cheek.

  “You paying cash?” he asked finally.

  “Of course.”

  “Fine. I'll make you one.”

  A half an hour later, I left the place with the freshly-made bump key in my bag and my nerves singing a tight tune. If my theory was correct, there was only one way to prove it, and it would require doing some breaking and entering. As I got on the uptown train, I took out my phone and scrolled through the contacts until I found Valeria’s number.

  ‘Hey! Are you at the bakery today?’

  It was Valeria’s day off, and she had made plans to go shopping with Lauren, but I played as though I’d forgotten about it.

  A minute later, my phone pinged with a reply. ‘Day off. Why?’

  ‘I have the afternoon free. Want to catch a matinee?’

  ‘Can’t. Going shopping with Lauren. Did you ask Felisha?’

  ‘Yes, but she’s busy,’ I lied.

  Her reply came as an emoji, sticking out its tongue at me. I snorted. ‘Thanks. Very nice.’

  Another tongue, then a conciliatory text, ‘Next weekend?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  It was good indeed. I smiled to myself at the same time as my stomach flipped with nerves. Everything was ready, and the pieces were set in place for the next part of the plan.

  Back in my neighborhood, I went by my house to drop off the cannolis I’d bought for Felisha. She had been out with Tyrone again the night before and was still asleep in her room, but the cats met me at the door with hungry meowing. I hurried into the kitchen to pour food into their dish and stash the box from the bakery into the fridge. Quickly, I watered the plants on the balcony, the ones that needed it, then took my bag and my peach scarf and headed out.

  Walking to Kathy’s bakery, I took a different route than usual and reached the block from the opposite side, coming out next to Luce della Vita. I hurried past the restaurant, glancing into the open bar windows as I went. The darkened place was empty inside, except for Liam who was leaning on the bar scrolling through his iPhone and didn’t see me.

  I stopped in front of the adjoining house—Sonny’s place—and glanced up and down the street to check that it was empty as I worked to steady my breathing. My pulse hammered a drumbeat in my ears.

  I touched my fingers to the Connemara pendant around my neck and gave it a squeeze for luck.

  Okay, Sandie. Here goes nothing.

  Approaching the front door, I slipped my hand into the pocket of my jacket. It closed tightly around the bump key.

  Lauren and Valeria would be at the shopping center by now, and the
house had to be empty.

  With a deep breath, I took out the bump key and inserted it into the keyhole. I almost expected it not to work, but then there was a satisfying click and the door opened. I threw one more glance down the street. On the corner, a guy in light gray sweat pants and dark sunglasses lit a cigarette. He wasn’t looking my way, so I pushed open the door and slipped inside.

  Most of the first floor was taken up by a carpeted sitting room. It had several armchairs and a dark-green couch facing a big screen TV. A half-closed door at the back led into the kitchen. I gave it a quick glance, then headed toward an open archway that gave onto the narrow corridor leading toward the stairs. If I was right, then what I was looking for had to be upstairs, on the second floor.

  Though I knew I was alone in the house, I found myself tiptoeing up the steps. One of them creaked, making me freeze in place. I made a mental note to step over it on my way down.

  The upstairs hallway, covered in new parquet, was just as narrow as the downstairs one, but the spotless white walls gave it a more open feeling. Up here was another sitting room with a TV and a master bedroom, followed by a closed study. Further down the hall were the bathroom and a walk-in closet.

  Passing the living room and the bedroom, I put my new key into action on the locked study. It opened with as much ease as the front door. Unlike Dad’s office, the furniture here was polished and spotless, the floor empty of papers. Instead of old books, the tall glass cabinet against the wall contained an impressive collection of expensive liquors. Behind the large mahogany desk, stood a dark wood wall entertainment unit with a small, older model TV. It had a built-in VCR player. I nodded with satisfaction. It was as I expected. So far, my theory checked out.

  The VCR was empty, as was the shelf below which should've contained the tape collection. This didn’t surprise me, but... I looked around, frowning. Where could the other thing be? If I didn't find it before Lauren and Valeria's return, all of this would've been for nothing.