by Meg Lelvis
Wait, wait, don’t go. Deafening explosion, ground shaking, red, yellow, black smoke. Trees torn from their roots. No, no, Pa, come back, where’s Karen, don’t—
Jack bolted awake, throwing off the sheets, sat up. “Christ, what the fuck. Not again.” The explosion seconds ago was thunder crashing. Lightning lit up the room’s shadows. Panting, he wiped his brow, heart thumping like a bass drum. He stumbled to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face, he averted his eyes from the mirror. Didn’t want to see what stared back at him.
Chapter 27
The downpour saturated everything in sight as Jack drove to the station the next morning.
Baumgartner’s vincas hung their heads in defeat, the soil morphing into tiny ponds. At least the rain offered relief from the strangling heat of the past two months. Jack drove in the middle of neighborhood streets to avoid rising water threatening to crest sidewalk curbs. The left windshield wiper scraped and squealed against the glass as Jack leaned forward, trying to see through the torrent of blurry fog against the pane. He cursed himself for not replacing the blade on the wiper when he had a chance; don’t need the frickin’ things when the sun’s shining. The rhythm of the grating wiper set his teeth on edge.
He eased into the parking lot and turned off the blasted wipers. Umbrellas were for wimps, but the deluge pounded his car, and he hadn’t worn a coat. He relented to common sense and grabbed his large black umbrella, which sheltered him from the elements on his way into the station.
The parking lot was turning into a lake, and reminded him of major flooding in Richmond two years ago. Just his luck, this was a repeat performance. Chicago looked more and more appealing. He didn’t know which he hated more, rain or heat. A toss-up.
Ten minutes later, Jack poured coffee into his mug and helped himself to a glazed donut from the box on a nearby table. Denise walked over from the fridge and stared at the goodies.
“Gonna get fat, Bailey.” She helped herself to two donuts.
“Look who’s talking.” Jack couldn’t bring himself to apologize for chewing her out a few days ago for sticking her nose into his private life and intimating he had the hots for Terri.
“I talked to the cat lady last night.” Denise filled her coffee cup.
Several cops wandered in and made a bee line for the donuts. Jack said, “Let’s go to the office. Fill me in there.” He wrapped his donut in a napkin.
Jack sat at his cluttered desk and placed his mug and pastry on a stray file folder. Denise settled in a chair across from him.
“We may have something, Bailey.” She sipped her coffee. “The old gal says that she not only hears a noise like a firecracker, she sees a kid hurrying down the sidewalk in front of Todd’s house.”
Jack wiped crumbs off his chin. “She’s sure this is the night of the murder?”
“Yeah, she remembers telling Moose that day about hearing the popping sound around midnight, but she swears seeing the person just dawned on her.”
Jack shook his head. “I dunno, Williams. Why did she think it was a kid?”
“She says he’s dressed in all black with a hoodie.” Denise rolled her eyes. “Sound familiar? Anyway, he’s pretty skinny, so she figures he’s a teenager, but it was too dark to see much else. She thinks he either came down the front sidewalk or maybe between the houses from the back.”
“Doesn’t make sense he’d come from the back with the privacy fence, but guess he could’ve jumped it.”
Denise brushed crumbs off her lap. “The whole thing sounds bogus, Bailey. But if there’s anything to it, Vega and Warner are out of the running. They’re big SOB’s.”
“My gut says to ignore the old bat. Probably her imagination. Did she seem to have all her marbles?”
“Pretty much, other than blabbing on and on about her frickin’ cat who kept trying to jump on my lap. Got hair all over my slacks.”
Jack smiled. “Goes with the territory, Williams. By the way, guess I could’ve been nicer the other day when you stuck your nose in my business.”
“My god, is that an apology, Bailey? As I live and breathe.”
“Don’t press your luck, Williams. Now get out of my office and get busy with whatever it is you do all day.”
Denise stood clutching her remaining donut and coffee. She laughed. “Have a good one, Bailey.”
After she left, Jack shuffled papers and thought about calling Terri. Probably too early. She may be sleeping in because of her late shift at the hospital. The thought of her in bed warmed Jack’s spirit and other parts as well. Don’t go there, he told himself.
His phone rang before he thought of anything further. He clicked on. “Bailey.”
He listened, frowned. “Crap, are you sure? Okay, thanks.”
Bad news for the investigation. No match on the guns, so Vega and Warner were off the hook unless Jack’s team could come up with other evidence. All they had now was the old lady’s claim about the thin person hurrying down the sidewalk. Who the hell would fit that description? Bryan Warner was slim and wiry. His alibi wasn’t solid. Didn’t want to think of him. They could look at Kelly Vega’s brothers again. Or some other girl could come forward.
All those speculations, damned weak. Why didn’t the perp leave a drop of blood, a hair, a piece of lint, something you see in those lame-ass forensics TV shows where the murder is solved in an hour including commercials? He texted the team regarding the gun news.
He was up against a brick wall. He could have his men revisit the files, see if they missed anything, approach it like a cold case. The bullet was the only evidence available. There probably were other girls Todd seduced, must’ve been an operator to trap the three they knew about. Maybe Jack should call Derek, the roommate, again. Bust his balls some more. Would he know more about Todd’s private life than he’s disclosed before? After all, they shared a house. His gut told him further investigation was futile, but he’d run it by the team, see what they think. Meanwhile, he decided to call Terri. What the hell, he’d made bigger mistakes than that in his life.
Jack punched in her number and slurped down the rest of his coffee. Damn, voice mail.
“Lt. Bailey here, Mrs. Warner. There’s new information we need to to discuss. Please call. Thanks.”
Deciding he needed more coffee, Jack locked his door and walked toward the kitchen. On the way he glanced out the windows where rain dumped more misery from gloomy skies. As he passed Jill’s desk, she smiled and waved at him while talking on her phone. The gray from outdoors wedged its way into his mood. He should seriously consider returning to Chicago; the winters couldn’t be worse than this.
After refilling his cup and eying the empty donut box, he headed for Moose’s desk.
“Get the team in my office, fifteen minutes.”
“Good morning to you too, Jack.” Moose held up a donut. “Want a bite?”
“Nah, had one already. Gotta go over the frickin’ case. See ya.” Jack wasn’t up for needless chatter, not even from Moose.
Later when the team gathered in his office, Jack pulled out his side desk drawer.
“Anybody wanna doc up your coffee?” He took a fifth of Jamesons out, untwisted the cap, and splashed several ounces into his mug.
“Too early for me, Jack,” Moose chuckled.
“I’ll pass.” Hector set his mug on the desk.
Tilford plopped his considerable heft into a chair and held out his cup. “Gimme a few drops.”
Jack grunted and poured more than a few drops. “About the case, you may’ve heard Williams questioned the old lady near Kaplan’s place. Talked to Moose the first day. Claims she saw a kid or teenager hauling ass around the the
house and front sidewalk at the time of the murder.”
Hector said, “What was your take on her cred, Moose?”
“Not too bad. Seems pretty smart for an old broad. Hard to buy she just now remembers seeing a person though. Sure likes that damn cat.”
Tilford licked his wide lips. “Good coffee, Jack. They’re sure about no gun match?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you call ‘em and find out?” What an ass.
“No need,” Tilford said. “Should we bring the old lady in for more questioning?”
“Nah. Moose, go back to her place and talk to her again. She’ll relax more in her house than here. Williams got a good take, but let’s see if she tells you the same story.”
Moose nodded. “Okay, but that cat better not get hair on my new pants.”
“You guys think we should call in Derek Walls again? He may know more about Kaplan than he told us two weeks ago. Things might be getting back to normal for him.” Jack slurped his coffee.
“We should give it a try,” Hector said. “Is he still living in the house or with the girlfriend, what’s her name?”
Moose crossed his spider legs. “Amy something. Let’s see.” He punched his cell screen.
“Hume.”
Jack said, “Moose, you find her and see if she’s remembered any more of Kaplan’s friends.”
Jack indicated Hector and Tilford. “You two get Derek. Sweat him out this time. My left nut says he’s hiding something.”
“Okay, Jack.” Moose stood up. “Meantime, let’s figure out who fits the cat lady’s person in the dark hoodie.”
“Only the whole high school population in town,” Hector said. “Or the Warner kid, the brother.”
“Or Kelly might have brothers, cousins, who the hell knows.” Jack drained his coffee. “Catch you guys later.” He was reluctant to mention Bryan Warner. Conflict of interest.
Tilford hoisted his substantial ass from the chair and tried to smooth his rumpled shirt. “Hope the rain lets up. Don’t wanna ruin my hair.” He chuckled.
“What hair?” Hector gestured at the man’s shiny pate.
“Shame you can’t stay.” Jack hurried them out the door.
Alone in the office, he stared at his phone, willing it to ring. She should call. She’s home from work. Won’t leave till this afternoon. Playing hard to get? Stop. This isn’t high school.
The rest of the morning limped along while Jack caught up on paperwork and met with Captain Murphy in his office down the hall. He informed Murphy of the latest developments in the case, which amounted to squat.
“Too bad about the gun match,” Murphy said. He poured a glass of Perrier for himself, but offered none to Jack. Not that he drank that sissy stuff anyway. “What’s your plan for the old lady’s mysterious figure she claims she saw?”
“Moose is talking to her again. If it seems solid, we’ll see who matches the description.” Jack didn’t mention Bryan Warner. He never thought the kid could’ve done it, but he was biased because of Terri.
Murphy smoothed his white Bill Clinton hair. “I hate to see this go cold, Jack. That Benson jerk from the Herald is breathing down my neck. Did you see the article a couple days ago?”
“Yeah, my housekeeper mentioned it.” Easy for Murph to talk; he’s not doing the grunt work.
Everything’s always about him.
Murphy’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen. “Gotta take this, Jack. Keep me posted.”
Saved by the bell. Jack nodded and walked out the door. God, when would this day end? He promised himself he’d call his mother tonight. Maybe this time she’d convince him to move back to Chicago. When he got his head on straight. Then Terri tickled her way into his thoughts.
Chapter 28
The weekend didn’t come soon enough for Jack. Yesterday dragged its weary feet with little to show for it. Rain soaked the area, but at least it abated. Forecasters canceled predictions of major flooding. Richmond denizens breathed a collective sigh of relief, including clerks and customers at Kroger, where Jack found himself after work. His pantry made Mother Hubbard’s cupboard look like a supermarket, so he forced himself to stock up on necessities: frozen pizza, tortilla chips, and a couple salad bags to ease the guilt from his main diet of beer, fast food, and snacks.
His buzzing cell awakened him early Saturday morning. He squinted through gauzy curtains of sleep and reached for the phone. “Yeah.” His voice barely croaked. Boone crawled from his spot on the bed and rested beside Jack.
“Did I wake you up?” Terri’s voice, silky.
His heart skipped a beat. He cleared his throat. “Nah, been up for hours.”
“Just returning your call. Is there really new information on the case, or you needed an excuse to call?”
God, he could visualize her green eyes teasing him, her tongue wetting her upper lip. He felt a stirring in his lower regions. “Do I need an excuse?” He sat halfway up and leaned against the headboard, Boone’s chin on his leg.
“Maybe. What are you wearing, Lieutenant?”
“I said you could call me Jack.”
Terri laughed. “Jack, would you like a good breakfast?”
“What’s open at this hour?”
“Silly boy. I’m a pretty good cook.”
“Among other things.” He ruffled Boone’s fur.
She giggled. “Breakfast will be served in half an hour.”
Jack thought a few seconds. “No one else home?”
“Not a soul. Brooke’s coming over around noon, Bryan’s on campus.”
Jack’s brain registered a small red flag, but temptation prevailed. “Be right there.”
. . . . .
The morning unfolded as he hoped. They immediately headed for the bedroom, that seductive lilac fragrance perfuming the air. Once again, the earth moved.
. . . . .
An hour later they sat at the kitchen table, Jack in a t-shirt and boxers, Terri covered with a white robe. They shared scrambled eggs with melted cheddar, pork links, and blueberry muffins.
Aromas of Chicory coffee and fried sausage floated through the air.
“How can you keep your girlish figure eating like this?” Jack gulped his coffee spiked with amaretto. Almost as good as Jamesons.
“I work out,” Terri said, her jade eyes dancing. She straightened the collar of her terry cloth robe, her tousled hair begging for his fingers. “Just kidding, Jack. I’m lucky that I can eat whatever I want and not gain weight.”
“Guess it runs in the family.” Shit, Terri’s expression told him he’d stepped in it this time. “I mean, not Brooke, a—”
“It’s okay. I’m not even supposed to mention weight around her.”
Jack took a bite of muffin. “What do you mean?”
“It’s all about values and self-esteem. Brooke got caught up in the culture of thin is beautiful, which was part of her problem. So the doctors and therapists say to downplay appearance and focus on character, what’s inside.”
Jack nodded. “Makes sense to me. What’s the other part?”
Terri looked confused. “What?”
“You said wanting to be thin was part of her problem.”
Terri stood and made her way to the coffee pot. “More?” She returned and filled their cups without waiting for an answer.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Jack added a splash of amaretto. “If you don’t want to talk about Brooke, I get that.”
Terri sipped her coffee. “It’s just that, I dunno how much Brooke told Ms. Williams that day you all were her
e. You have to know the story, or some of it, for you to question Doug.”
“Story?” Jack treaded lightly.
“Brooke knew that Todd Kaplan guy, enough for him to ruin her life.” Terri licked her lips and moved her eggs around with a fork, staring at the plate. “Jack, this is really hard.” She swallowed.
He put his hand on her arm. “Take your time.”
Terri told him the same information he heard from Denise. How Brooke’s anorexia was probably triggered from Todd’s act, how it came out in therapy. It devastated the Warner family, thwarted Brooke’s college plans, may have been the catalyst of the divorce, not to mention the cost of psychiatric hospitals.
“I can’t talk any more, Jack.” She drained her cup and put her napkin on the plate, her uneaten eggs cold by now. “Want something else to eat?”
“Thanks, I’m good. I’ll help clean up.”
Together they cleared the table and Terri placed the plates and cups in the dishwasher. The gloom from outside crept into the room, intensifying the already dismal atmosphere.
“Sorry, Jack, I didn’t mean to put a damper on things.” She took his hand and led him into the foyer.
“Nothing to be sorry about. How is Brooke doing since her last hospital stay?”
“Better.” She frowned. “Of course, I’ve been wrong before. She’s moving into an apartment with a friend next week. Still looks the same, though, way too skinny.”
He smoothed Terri’s hair from her forehead. “You’re doing all you can without smothering her.”
She said nothing, put her arms around Jack’s neck and kissed him. “I’m glad you came over, Jack.”
“Me too. Gives a new spin on bed and breakfast.”
Terri giggled. “You make me laugh. I like that.”
“Am I getting kicked out?” He reached inside her robe.
“I need to get some things done before Brooke comes.” She kissed him again and removed his hand from her breast.