Lou sincerely doubted that Adrian’s heart had room for kindness.
"Can’t you see where this is going, mate?” the editor asked. “Kathy Simmons was pitiful. A total loser. I got a call last week from a women's club. The president saw Kathy scooping extra food into her purse. How humiliating! And yet, she was always yammering on about story ideas. Inflated ideas. Frankly, I quit listening. That's all she ever talked about. This idea and that one. Stupid cow. She thought she could play in the big leagues, as you Yanks say. She was convinced she knew everything there was to know about journalism!”
Adrian’s ego was his Achilles heel.
“Not up to your standards, huh?”
“Not by a long shot,” said the editor, giving a sharp jerk on his colorful jersey. In his spandex biking outfit, Adrian looked ridiculously out of place as he stood next to a row of cubicles. “For the sake of comparison, I have an extensive background in journalism, and a classical education. My real interest is writing books. This was,” Adrian used his index finger to make a circular motion that indicated his surroundings, “a stop-gap measure. A way to secure health insurance while I worked on my magnum opus.”
“Okay,” said Lou, “let’s go back to your office. So we can talk.”
Actually, Lou wanted another look around. While Adrian sank down in his oversized office chair, Lou went to the editor’s bookcases. The shelves were filled with titles on Florida history, politicians, and local lore. Three ring binders were neatly labeled, "W.I.P."
Lou pulled one off the shelf.
"That's confidential!" squealed Adrian.
The pages proved a disappointing mishmash of state politics, political figures, and the Senator. Lou asked, "What does W.I.P. mean?"
"Work In Progress. It's a term we professional authors use."
"So you’re telling me that you're an author?"
"I recently turned in a manuscript for a book."
"About what?"
"It’s the biography of a local politician."
"Really?"
"Yes." The young man's lips curled into a smarmy smile. "That’s why I was in the Big Apple, if you must know. I have a New York publisher."
"Is your New York publisher aware that you had a little problem in the UK? Illegal phone hacking? Escaped going to jail by the skin of your teeth, didn’t you?” Lou mentally thanked Ollie for pulling up the dirt on Adrian Green.
“Nothing was proven,” Adrian replied hastily.
“Proves something to me. You think you’re above the law, and you don’t mind lying.”
CHAPTER 39
~Cara~
“Back to the world of high finance,” I told Jack as he trotted along beside me. We’d both had our breakfast, and he’s been outside to go potty. Now he was walking around the store with me, looking over the merchandise we had for sale. “Or low finance, if you want to be more accurate.”
There was only one sure way to see what we’d sold, what we’d had left, and what had been shoplifted. That was to do a physical inventory.
Once Sid finished our point-of-purchase system, it would be much easier to keep track of things. For now, I had no choice but to print out a list and manually check it against my stock. I worked a little, adjusting the list we already had, and listened to the rain coming down outside.
A tapping on the front door interrupted me.
“What now?” I asked Jack. “Busy morning, huh, pup?”
Huddled in the alcove stood a young woman with wet hair and a pinched face. One arm was wrapped around her torso, in an attempt to keep her lightweight jacket from billowing. The wind had picked up, and each gust drenched her, but she seemed determined to stay put.
“Sorry, but the store isn’t open until ten,” I said, opening the door a crack. “You could go over to Pumpernickel’s and wait.”
“I need to talk to Cara Mia Delgatto.” She pushed her way inside and shook the way a dog does. To my shock, a furry head poked its way out of her jacket. Before I could say a word, a cat jumped out and landed on my floor. Not surprisingly, Jack hightailed it for the back room. The cat puffed up like a balloon that’s being inflated.
“Uh, your pet—”
“Not mine,” said the girl. “It’s Kathy’s.”
“Kathy's? Kathy Simmons’ cat? But you need to grab her. Him. Whatever. My dog’s feeling threatened.”
The cat scuttled under a small end table and began licking its fur.
“Her. That's Luna and she’s yours now.” My visitor reached up and squeezed water out of her hair. The young woman was shockingly thin. My Italian compulsion to feed people kicked in. Besides, I needed to check on Jack, who was probably totally freaked out.
“Come on into our back room. Let me get you a towel, a hot drink, and some food.”
“I’m Darcy,” she said after I’d put Jack in his crate. I handed the young woman a towel warm from the dryer. Wet, she smelled vaguely of cooking oil. Visions of French fries danced in my head. “We might have talked on the phone. I’ve been calling about Kathy Simmons. She was my roommate.”
“Yes, of course. I am so sorry about Kathy. Can I get you some tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee, please.” She sniffed the air. “Something smells good.”
"I was heating up quiches."
"Quiches? What’s a quiche?" Darcy ran the towel over herself.
"Egg dishes with onions, bacon and cheese in them." I popped more of the tiny pies into the microwave.
Patting dry her clothes hadn't done much good. Darcy was still sopping wet.
“Why don't you step into the bathroom and hand me your things. If I toss them into the dryer, they’ll be done in no time. Here’s a towel for you to wear.”
She did as I suggested. When she passed me her clothes, I noticed how worn the fabric was. The elastic on her underwear was ready to give out. Everything went into the dryer with a sheet of scented fabric softener purported to smell like an ocean breeze. It missed the mark, but still, the fragrance was pleasant.
I tossed Darcy another towel to wrap around her bare legs before she settled on the folding chair. The timer dinged on the microwave. Although the quiches were steaming hot, Darcy fell on the food as if she were starving. Meanwhile, Luna wandered in and stared at Darcy, me, and the quiches, but ignored Jack. The poor animal looked like one of those feral cats you see at rest stops.
I opened a can of tuna and set it on the floor. Jack’s tail wagged excitedly, thumping against the crate, as he caught the stink of oily fish. The cat made a beeline for the food while Jack watched the feline’s every move.
“Kathy told me you would help,” said Darcy, between mouthfuls.
“Help how?”
“She told me to give you this.” From a pocket inside her jacket, she withdrew the black and white photo that I’d sold to Kathy. It had been tucked inside a plastic baggy for protection. Without the frame and the mat, it didn’t take up much space.
“When did she give this to you?”
“Right after she bought it. She wrote up her article about your store and text-messaged me that she was giving Adrian a ride home.”
“Adrian? Her boss?” I decided not to tell her that she’d missed him by minutes. I wondered if he’d gotten to work without being soaked. It sure was coming down. In the distance, thunder rolled like a bass line in a pop song.
“Yeah, he promised to buy her dinner in exchange for a ride because it was raining. Kathy knew I was working, but she didn’t want him to know that. After they went through the drive-up window at Wendy’s, where I work, she told him she needed to pee. When she ran inside, she handed me the photo for safekeeping. She said to give it to you if anything happened to her.”
Now I shivered. “Those were her exact words? ‘If anything happened?’”
“Uh-huh. Are there more?” She pointed to the crumbs on her plate.
Why was Kathy so intent on getting that photo back to me?
The only reason I could imagine was that the photo was
a gift for Kathy’s mother. Maybe she expected me to make sure the woman received it.
I filled a plate with quiches and shoved them into the microwave. “Darcy? What sort of mood was Kathy in?”
Darcy frowned. “She was, like, excited. Really excited. Nervous, too. She said she was following up on a big story. A really big deal. But she didn’t have time to talk with Adrian waiting in her car. He’s a jerk.”
“You must have been frantic when she didn't come home.”
“She’d been working on this one idea for a long time. Done a lot of research. It started with a letter she had. It proved how nasty someone was. But the whole thing was tricky because it involved someone very important.” A tear rolled down Darcy’s face.
I handed her a box of tissues. Nasty letters reminded me of my sister. Could that important person have been Cooper? The pieces fit. Maybe that’s why Kathy had brought up his name! I picked up a paper towel and carefully blotted the outside of the plastic bag. It had protected the picture so far, but I didn't want to take any chances.
A loud boom of thunder shook the building. The lights flickered. I could hear the wind whipping up outside.
“Stupid rain,” said Darcy. “Most people come to Florida for sunshine, but Kathy was different. She loved the rain. I can’t get it out of my head, you know? I stood there at Wendy’s and watched her running through the puddles to her car. Wearing that old scarf and that silly raincoat."
CHAPTER 40
“You should tell Detective Murray about this. All of it.” I tried to sound firm but kind.
“Don’t like cops." She watched me take the quiches out of the microwave.
"He seems gruff, but he's really a good guy." I slid all but two of them onto her plate.
"Ha. He and his friends wouldn't even go out and look for Kathy when I called in. If they had, maybe she'd be alive right now!" Darcy’s face grew more animated and her voice picked up strength. "Then our apartment gets broken into. Yeah, can you believe it? The cops smirked as they walked around. I heard one guy saying, 'Why would anyone break in here? This place is a dump.'"
I nodded. "The job gets to them."
“Yeah, sure, so I should forget about how they didn’t care that Kathy was missing? And how they thought it was funny that someone broke into our place in broad daylight? Yeah, yeah. Now I’m supposed to trust them to find Kathy’s killer? Ain’t no way."
She was right. Sometimes the police let their prejudices get in the way of doing their job. But didn't we all? Every one of us makes judgments on a daily basis, and we adjust our behavior accordingly. We size each other up. Decide if the other person has anything to offer us, and then mentally dismiss him if he doesn’t seem to. Wrong or right we jump to conclusions, and once we make a decision, backing up and starting over is nearly impossible.
"Kathy said you’d been around the block. She said you’d had your own tangle with authorities.”
“How’d she know that?”
“She googled you before she came to your media party. Showed me the stuff in the papers about how you bonked your ex-husband over the head. He deserved it. We agreed.”
I groaned. I needed to hire one of those internet privacy firms that could bury your unsavory information so far down in the search engine that it never came to light.
“Darcy, I really, really think we should get Detective Murray over here and—"
"No! I know what they do! The cops took my brother and put him in jail because he had one measly ounce of dope on him. He gotten beaten up in jail, and he’s never been the same. Broke my mother's heart.”
“Did Kathy tell you about this big story? What it was about? Who was involved?”
“She said the less I knew the better. The man involved has a partner, and she’s nasty. Really mean.”
Now that sounded exactly like my sister! Kathy must have known what Jodi was holding over Cooper’s head. If it came out, maybe he’d finally be free.
“How about if I call Detective Murray and explain—”
“No!” The reaction was swift; the pitch of Darcy’s voice climbed higher. “You can’t! You have to promise! Look, someone killed Kathy and I don’t want them coming after me. I am so out of here. I just needed to wait for my paycheck and make sure Luna was all right. Kathy loved that cat. If I left Luna alone in the apartment, animal control would come get her and put her to sleep. That’s the way it is, right? Everybody wants kittens, or a cat that’s special, not anything ordinary. It’s the same with people. If you’re pretty or smart, you matter. If not, people kick you to the curb.”
I didn’t want to admit it, and I would have denied it in a public forum, but she was right. I changed the subject. “Why not stick around for Kathy’s funeral? It’s only a few days away.”
“Kathy's ma hates me. She goes off on me whenever she can. Thinks I’m to blame for…whatever. Besides, what difference would it make? It’s not like I can say goodbye. Kathy’s gone. She’s not in any old casket. She hated small spaces. Hated them. She wasn't in that there morgue. She left me. She's gone. I could tell by looking. It’s like they’ve got this wax dummy that’s a leftover, but it sure isn’t Kathy. Not even close.”
Big tears splashed down Darcy's face. The dinger on the dryer sounded. I pulled out her warm, dry clothes. Grabbing them from me she ran into the bathroom to change, but she left the door slightly open as she did so she’d know if I tried to call Lou. I thought about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to betray Darcy. I knew how it felt to be on the wrong side of the law.
“You’re right. Kathy’s not in that casket, but you might want to say goodbye to her,” I said, as Darcy walked back out of the bathroom. The way her fingers fumbled with her buttons gave her a curiously child-like quality. She had nowhere to go and little chance of being successful in life, because she had neither the tools nor a support network. No family. And now no friends. I said, “Funerals can be comforting. Believe me, I know.”
“No way. Kathy kept saying things would get better, that she knew she’d get her big break. But things didn’t get better, did they? Not for her and not for me.”
“Where will you go? What will you do?”
“I’ve got enough for a bus ticket to Miami. I speak a little Spanish. I’ll get another job in fast food.”
“Where will you stay?”
“I’ll figure that out when I get there. I can hang around the bus station until they kick me out. There are lots of nooks and crannies in parking garages. They’ll give me a uniform at work, and I can use the john at the restaurant to change. I’ll make do.”
The hopelessness of her situation overwhelmed us both. She added in a brave voice, “I’ve done it before. Nothing to it.”
I withdrew two one-hundred dollar bills from the cash register drawer. Because we had stayed open late the night before, I hadn’t had the chance to make our usual deposit.
“Take this,” I handed the money to Darcy, as she struggled with her jacket. “Consider it payment for the photograph.”
“Thanks.” Darcy’s eyes grew wide as she reached for the money. She self-consciously yanked down the sleeve of her jacket, but she couldn’t cover the tattoo on her arm fast enough. It read: Darcy+Kathy4Ever.
CHAPTER 41
9:30 a.m. on Saturday
The Shoreline News office
~Lou~
“Don’t even think about leaving town,” Lou said to Adrian Green. “We’re done here for now.”
Green pouted like an angry child.
It was still raining when he and Ollie walked to their cars.
“I’ll meet you back at the station,” he told Ollie.
“Take your time. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy,” said his partner.
Lou needed coffee to think. He stopped at the Starbucks at Monterey and Federal Highway and treated himself to his secret favorite, a Tall Skinny Vanilla Latte, a drink he never ordered in front of the guys. When he got back to his desk, he noticed that Ollie was concentrating on his c
omputer screen while he held a phone to one ear. Instead of bothering him, Lou double-checked the inventory sheets from Kathy Simmons’ apartment. Nothing of interest was on the list.
On a notepad, he wrote:
ESTABLISH TIMELINE!
1.Could KS have gone back to the apartment before heading to the newspaper?
2.Need to confirm KS/AG visit to Wendy’s and Winn-Dixie.
3.Any sightings of KS after she dropped off AG?
4.Could the motive for the murder be a story KS was working on?
5.Did KS threaten anyone other than Cara?
6.Where is the photo that KS purchased from The Treasure Chest?
7.What was KS's relationship with her co-workers at the paper?
8.What did KS have on Cooper Rivers?
He also wrote down the list of Known Associates and their contact information.
“You got anything to add?” he asked, as he tossed the pad onto Ollie’s desk. The other cop looked up from his desk. As always, the surface was littered with food byproducts. Crumbs of sourdough bread from Panera and flakes of sugar from Dunkin’ Donuts. Ollie's empty mug smelled of hot chocolate.
“Yeah,” said Ollie, after looking over the notes. “Actually, I do.”
“What did you learn from Kathy Simmons’ co-workers?” Lou pulled up a chair.
“They liked her, except when she mooched off of them. Owed everyone money. Small sums. A buck here and there. Not enough to kill her over.” Ollie picked at a couple of red spots on his neck.
“What about Adrian Green?”
“No love lost there. In the words of one woman, Mr. Green thinks his stuff don’t stink.”
Lou nodded. “That’s the impression I got, too. What about his relationship with Kathy Simmons? He told me she had the hots for him."
“Doubtful. He might think he’s a player, but everyone else thinks he’s a weasel.”
“Anything else?”
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