by Lisa Regan
“Quinn, Palmer. We need to talk about— Who the hell is this?”
Amber strode over to him and extended a hand. “Amber Watts,” she said. “The Mayor sent me over. I’m the police department’s new press liaison.”
For a long, pregnant moment, Chitwood stared at her. His face grew more ruddy by the second. Finally, he said, “Horseshit. We don’t need a press liaison. You’re a spy, is what you are. Go back to the Mayor and tell her she can pound sand.”
To her credit, Amber didn’t miss a beat. She gave him a megawatt smile, as if they were in on some joke together and said, “Chief, I know how this looks.”
He folded his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at her. “Do you?”
“I do,” she said easily. “With the Quail Hollow Scandal in the news and the conflict over city resources putting you and the Mayor at odds, it must seem as though she’s planting me here to keep an eye on you. I can assure you that’s not the case.”
“Can you? How is that?”
“I answered the job listing for a press liaison months ago. I interviewed for this position before the flooding even started,” she answered.
He pointed a finger at her. “More horseshit. The Mayor can’t hire people without telling me.”
“Well, sir, I’m afraid that’s something you’d have to take up with her. My job is not only to manage press briefings and other matters here in-house but also to coordinate between the police department and the Mayor’s office to be sure that both city departments are sending the same message to the public.”
Josie said, “What you really mean is that you’re here to make sure that we stay on message.”
Chitwood, who normally would have rebuffed Josie for speaking up, remained silent, staring hard at Amber, waiting for her response.
Amber turned to Josie, her smile never faltering. “No, that’s not my job. I’m not the Mayor’s lackey.”
“She’s here to spin things,” Gretchen said.
Amber said, “I’m sorry. We haven’t been introduced. You are?”
“Detective Gretchen Palmer.”
“Oh yes. Well, Detective Palmer, if I recall, you were personally involved in a case a couple of years back that was heavily covered in the media.”
“That’s none of your business,” Josie snapped.
Gretchen reached over and touched Josie’s arm. “It’s okay, boss.”
Amber’s smile slipped. “I’m not here to make enemies. Far from it. I know it doesn’t seem like it, especially since the Mayor hired me, but I am on your side. The only reason I brought up your history, Detective Palmer, is to make the point that this city has been the home of several high-profile criminal cases over the last five years. Cases that have captured national interest. You really should have had someone like me in place a long time ago. My job is not to get in your way or to make your job harder. In fact, my job is to make yours easier. I deal with the press so that all of you can carry on with your investigative work. Just this morning, Detective Quinn was captured on the news recovering what looked like a dead body from a flood zone. The press are camped outside, and their numbers are growing by the minute. I can help you deal with them. That’s what I do.”
The three of them regarded her warily. When none of them spoke, Amber said, “I can see that the Mayor didn’t exactly pave the way for my arrival. I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot.” She turned to the Chief. “How about if I set up a meeting with the Mayor? The three of us can discuss this in private. Would that put your mind at ease?”
Chitwood raised a brow. “What would put my mind at ease is if the damn Mayor would stay the hell out of my way and stop screwing around with Emergency Services!”
From inside her briefcase, Amber produced a cell phone. “We can definitely put your concern on the agenda. I’ll give her a call right now.”
Josie and Gretchen stared at Chitwood, braced for an explosion. He had one of the foulest tempers Josie had ever seen on the job. Most people were intimidated by him—or at least annoyed—but Amber was unfazed. They all listened as she spoke with the Mayor, never once breaking from her professional demeanor. She was smooth, Josie would give her that. Unflappable. She pulled the phone away from her ear for a second and asked the Chief, “Today at two? At the restaurant just past the university campus? I think neutral territory would be best.”
The Chief’s pitted cheeks flamed. Haltingly, he said, “Uh, sure, yeah.”
Amber confirmed with the Mayor and ended the call. “Lovely,” she said. She graced them all with another smile and said, “I can see you’ve all got work to do so I won’t make myself a nuisance. Chief, I’ll see you later today.”
He didn’t answer. Amber tilted her head, her voice softening. “The awkwardness of my arrival aside, I really do look forward to working with all of you. Detective Quinn, I’ve been an admirer of yours for some time.”
Josie managed a weak “thank you,” and they watched Amber disappear back into the stairwell. Chitwood patted down the stray hairs on his scalp, letting loose a stream of muttered expletives before addressing Josie. “Quinn, I want you to find that job listing for me, you got that?”
“Of course,” Josie answered, grateful that Amber’s arrival had overshadowed her actions from this morning. She fully expected to be dressed down by the Chief, but he was more worried about the Mayor’s machinations.
“I’m not going into this meeting unprepared,” he said. “I will not be intimidated by this woman. I don’t care if she’s my boss.”
Josie remembered her own experience with the Mayor back when she had served as interim chief of police. They’d had a case where an infant had been abducted, his mother beaten. The Mayor’s husband had briefly been a person of interest. The Mayor had personally and privately requested that Josie brush his connection to the case under the carpet. Josie hadn’t agreed to it, and her relationship with the Mayor had been strained ever since. “I’ll dig up whatever I can,” she assured Chitwood.
He nodded. “Also, Palmer brought me up to speed on today’s events. I expect Dr. Feist’s autopsy will show we have a murder victim on our hands. Palmer and Quinn will take the lead on the case.”
Josie waited for him to mention her dive into the river after the tarp, but he said nothing.
“We’re headed over to see the owner of the house now,” Josie told him. “Calvin Plummer.”
Chitwood gave a pinched expression. “He’s one of those Quail Hollow Estate assholes. Not the worst of them, though. Good luck. Keep me up to speed. I’ve got to get out to the command post and assess the shitshow for the day before I see the Mayor.”
Seven
Calvin Plummer’s office was located in South Denton, which was primarily a commercial district. Squat, flat-roofed buildings sat along the main route, housing strip malls, a car rental agency, and a storage facility among other things. The residences left over had long been converted into businesses as well. Josie drove along back roads to avoid the flooding but when she went to turn onto the main road, there was water flowing across it for as far as the eye could see. Two patrol cars sat at the intersection, lights flashing. Uniformed officers in bright yellow raincoats walked up and down the road, waving cars out of the now flooded area.
“The south branch of the river must have overflowed,” Josie said. “There are a bunch of creeks down here that flow into it.” About a quarter mile down the road to the right, she could see the two-story colonial home with the sign hanging from its porch that announced: Calvin Plummer, Attorney-at-Law.
“It’s moving fast,” Gretchen said.
“You bring your waders?” Josie asked her, putting the car into park.
Gretchen smiled. “You kidding me? After this week? They’re in the back.”
They rushed out into the rain, and Josie popped open her hatch. They pulled on their waders and raincoats and set off toward Plummer’s office. The uniformed officers nodded at them as they moved through the ankle-height water. T
he strip of grass between the road and Plummer’s front door hadn’t yet been overrun with water, but the ground was soft beneath their feet. Just inside the open door was a small sitting area with a couch, two overstuffed chairs, and a coffee table in the center of them. A small cherry reception desk stood empty. Across from the front entrance were two doors, both open, and to the far left, a flight of stairs. A man emerged from one of the doors carrying a cardboard file box in his hands. Josie knew from the website that they were looking at Calvin Plummer. He was short and stocky with thinning gray hair and a chubby face. He wore a suit with no jacket.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This really isn’t the time. The police are evacuating us.”
Gretchen flashed her credentials at him as she and Josie approached. “We are the police.”
“Oh,” Calvin said, glancing at Gretchen’s ID. He raised a brow. “Detective? I assume this is about my property on Hempstead.”
“Yes,” Josie said, offering him her credentials as well.
He took a cursory look at her ID and shifted the box in his hands. “I’m happy to talk to you, but right now I’ve got to get these files up to the second floor before we get out of here.”
Josie looked around. The sound of a metal drawer slamming sounded from the room Calvin had just emerged from. “My secretary,” he explained. “Tammy. Now, if you don’t mind.”
He muscled past them and started up the steps.
Josie said, “We’ll help.”
Gretchen gave her a brief glare but then nodded at Plummer.
“Fine,” he said. His head bobbed in the direction of the file room. “In there. Tammy will give you some boxes.”
From outside came a hammering sound on the porch roof, as the rain picked up. The long, low howl of the South Denton fire company’s emergency alarm began. “Hurry,” Plummer told them.
Tammy was in her early twenties with long, dark hair that swished across her back as she unloaded file folders from the metal cabinets lining the room and tucked them into letter boxes. She was shorter than Josie and much curvier, her tight black dress and six-inch heels oozing more sexual energy than professionalism. She was going to have a hell of a time carrying letter boxes up and down the steps quickly in those shoes.
They introduced themselves, and Tammy handed them each a box. Plummer joined them, taking a third box. Josie and Gretchen followed him up the steps as he talked. “I’ve had that house on Hempstead for years,” he said. “A damn shame. Is Mrs. Bassett okay?”
“Yes,” Josie said. “A small bump on the head but otherwise fine. Happy to be alive.”
“She lost everything though,” Calvin muttered. At the top of the steps, they followed him left and down a long hall. On the second floor, the insistent drum of the rain was nearly a roar. “Do you know where I can reach her? I can at least return her security deposit. I definitely don’t need it now. She was always a great tenant. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find good tenants?”
Gretchen started with his first question. “We’re not sure where she’ll be placed but as soon as we know, we can pass that along.”
“Speaking of tenants,” Josie said as they came to a doorway. “We were wondering if you could tell us about the tenants who lived in the house before Mrs. Bassett.”
Calvin walked into a large room which was empty, save for a stack of file boxes along one wall. He motioned for them to place their boxes on top of the pile. “This is to do with that thing you jumped into the water for, isn’t it? On the news, reporters are speculating that it was a body. Is that the case?”
“Yes,” Josie answered, setting her box down. “It is a body. It’s with the medical examiner now.”
Calvin hung his head. “You’re telling me there was a body buried under one of my houses?”
Gretchen put her box on top of Josie’s. “Yes. Do you have any idea how it might have gotten there?”
Calvin laughed as he headed back down to the file room. “If I knew anything about a dead body underneath one of my properties, you’d be having this conversation with my attorney. Of course I don’t know anything about it. Listen, that property has always been a rental. Like I said, I’ve had it for decades. Before Mrs. Bassett, there were a bunch of tenants; not the most savory types, if you take my meaning. Any one of them could have been doing illegal things there. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if they had been. I was lucky to find Mrs. Bassett. I’m sad to see her go. Sad to see the house go. Insurance will cover it, I imagine.”
“About those former tenants,” Josie said, trying to keep him on track as they took more boxes from Tammy and followed Calvin upstairs again. “Do you have records? A list? Something we can use to track them down?”
Over his shoulder, he said, “I’m only required to keep records for seven years, but I suppose I can check and see what I’ve got. Actually, Tammy probably knows where those records are better than me.”
Back in the file room, he addressed his young secretary.
“Tammy,” he said. “I need you to find all the records we have on the Hempstead property, if you can find them quickly.” He looked out of the file room toward the front door. Beyond, the murky brown water began to cover the grass.
With a sigh, Tammy turned away from them, walking sideways through a narrow passage between two piles of letter boxes and then navigating her way to a file cabinet in the corner of the room, blocked by a rolling cart with computer equipment on it. “I think those are in this one,” she said, pushing the cart aside. They watched as she bent at the waist to open the bottom drawer. As she riffled through it, Josie looked over to see Plummer’s gaze glued to his secretary’s rear, eyes hungry. Gretchen’s elbow jabbed at Josie’s side, an indication for Josie not to stare. Josie tore her eyes from the attorney and stepped forward, searching for an empty file box. A moment later, she and Tammy were loading file folders marked “Hempstead” into it.
Plummer said, “I trust you’ll return them to me when you’re finished? We don’t really have time to make copies right now.”
Outside, the mournful wail of the emergency fire siren went on. Gretchen said, “We don’t need copies. We can bring them back as soon as we’ve finished with them.”
“Perfect,” Plummer said. He gestured to the rest of the files in the room. “You mind helping us with these?”
Eight
“I feel dirty,” Gretchen joked once they were back in the car. She shifted the letter box that Plummer had given them on her lap. “And not just because I’m sweating. From now on, check with me before you volunteer us for hard labor.”
Josie laughed. “What do you think the age difference is between Plummer and Tammy?”
“It’s gross,” Gretchen answered. “However many years gross comes out to.”
Josie laughed harder and started the car, turning her windshield wipers up as fast as they’d go. Two more patrol cars pulled up, maneuvering around her vehicle to block off the road. The water had been up to their calves by the time they left Plummer’s office. Josie turned her vehicle around, driving away from the flooded area. “Some people say age is just a number,” she teased.
Gretchen shook her head. “To be fair, I was twelve years younger than my husband, but I’m thinking there’s a lot more years than that between Plummer and Tammy.”
They returned to the police station, pushing through the soaking wet throng of reporters still staked out at the back door, and took the file up to their desks. Once they got out of their raincoats and waders and felt sufficiently dry, they spread the paperwork out across Josie’s desk and pored over it. Josie said, “This guy saved a copy of every check Evelyn Bassett ever sent him.”
“That’s a lot of checks,” Gretchen said. “Here we go. This is the tenant before her.”
She pulled out a thin manila file from the box. Josie gathered up the documents from Mrs. Bassett and made room for the new file. Gretchen opened it and began placing various documents side by side. The lease, copies of checks
, letters, and what looked like legal documents. Josie picked one up and skimmed over it. The top of it was marked with the Denton City Municipal Court seal. “This is an eviction action,” she said. “Calvin Plummer versus Vera Urban, April 9, 2004.”
Something in the shadows at the back of Josie’s mind fought to burst forth.
Gretchen picked up more documents. “Looks like Vera lived there for about seven years before Plummer filed that. Did it go through?”
Josie flipped through the pages but found no evidence that Vera had actually been evicted. She moved on to the rest of the legal documents until she found a Petition to Withdraw. “They must have worked it out,” Josie said. “Because he withdrew the action June 18, 2004.”
“So what happened?” Gretchen asked.
Josie paged through the copies of Vera’s rent checks, then she went back to Evelyn Bassett’s checks. “There’s a year-long gap here between Vera Urban’s last rent check and Evelyn Bassett’s first one.”
“So the house on Hempstead was vacant for a year?”
“It appears that way. From the eviction proceedings, it looks like Vera hadn’t paid her rent for two months when Plummer filed against her. Then he withdrew the action, but I don’t see that she ever squared up with him or that he ever returned her security deposit,” Josie said.
“Maybe she took off, and he kept the security deposit,” Gretchen suggested.
“We’ll have to ask him. In the meantime, let’s see what we can find out about Vera Urban.”
Gretchen paged through the rest of the stuff in the letter box while Josie pulled up the TLO database. She took a few minutes to search through it. “This is strange,” she said.
Gretchen leaned over her shoulder to look at the screen.
Josie said, “She’s had no property purchases, no utilities, not even a phone for the last sixteen years.”