Save Her Soul: An absolutely unputdownable crime thriller and mystery novel (Detective Josie Quinn Book 9)

by Lisa Regan

  She was up and out of bed before anyone else in the house woke. She left Noah a note and went to work. Surprisingly, Gretchen sat at her desk in the great room, typing away at her keyboard. When Josie plopped into her desk chair, Gretchen pushed a paper coffee cup across to her.

  Josie said, “Have I told you how much I treasure our friendship?”

  Gretchen chuckled. “One of the guys working the holding cells yesterday left an envelope on your desk.”

  Josie found it on top of a pile of paperwork. Her name was on the front. She turned it over and slid a finger under the seal to open it. “How was your first night with Poppy?”

  Gretchen put a hand through her hair. “She doesn’t sleep either, so I think we’ll get along just fine.”

  Inside the envelope was a blank piece of printer paper. It smelled like cigarette smoke. Josie unfolded it and read it. The handwriting was surprisingly neat.

  Jojo: the name is Silas. That’s all I got. – Z

  Josie felt something go out of her. Some kind of tension she’d been holding onto for so long, she couldn’t remember when it first started. Maybe when she was a child. She had no idea why Needle had chosen to help her now when there was absolutely nothing in it for him, but the act brought all kinds of feelings to the surface. She pushed them back down and showed Gretchen the note. Within ten minutes, they had a driver’s license photo, rap sheet, and background check on one Silas Murphy, age fifty-five. Although he was much older in his driver’s license photo, it was definitely the same man they had seen in the photo they’d found in Beverly’s possessions, of Vera standing in her kitchen talking with a man.

  His employment history showed that he’d worked at several local auto repair shops and from what they could see, he’d gotten married in 2000. They didn’t have divorce records, so it wasn’t clear how long he’d been married or if he was still married, but he was definitely the friend they’d been searching for.

  Josie did more searching. “He has never legally purchased a firearm.”

  “He wouldn’t be able to,” Gretchen said. “Not with his rap sheet. The prison inmate records show he’s done time for possession on several occasions and—check this out—he has a large tattoo on his back. Under description it says: skull.”

  Adrenaline surged through Josie’s veins. “Let’s go find him.”

  Forty

  Silas Murphy’s apartment was in a six-story building in West Denton. The area was flooded, with a couple of inches of water in the streets, but the level wasn’t high enough to reach people’s homes. Now that the rain had stopped, patrol units had let traffic back into the area. Josie parked out front of Silas’s building. It had seen better days. Its brick face crumbled in several areas. Where the brick had worn away near the windows, birds had burrowed inside the walls. A set of double glass doors were centered on the first floor of the building. One of them had been broken and boarded up with plywood and duct tape. Inside was a small room filled with dented metal mailboxes, each one bearing an apartment number. Silas’s number was 612, which meant he was on the sixth floor.

  Gretchen looked around. “There’s no elevator.”

  Josie shook her head. “Figures.”

  Josie led the way, trudging up six flights of stairs, trying to ignore the pain in her leg. She was glad for all the early morning jogs she, Noah, and Trout took. Even though she was in good shape, she felt beads of perspiration along her hairline. The stagnant air in the stairwell was hot and cloying. By the time they reached the sixth floor, sweat ran down the sides of Gretchen’s face. The hallway was at least twenty degrees cooler. Josie and Gretchen took a moment to suck in the air before they searched out Apartment 612.

  Josie pounded on the door. There was no answer. They waited a few minutes, knocked again and waited. They turned when they heard the sound of the stairwell door creaking behind them. Silas Murphy stood there in a black T-shirt and jeans, a white plastic takeout bag in one hand and a set of keys in the other.

  Gretchen said, “Silas Murphy.”

  He dropped the bag and his keys and took off, banging through the stairwell door. Josie pushed past Gretchen and ran after him. She was faster and in better shape, even though the stitches in her thigh ached with the exertion. As she got to the stairwell, she heard his footsteps pounding down, down, down. Josie tore after him, jumping down as many steps to each landing as she safely could.

  As she reached the lobby, she saw the double doors flap closed. She was gaining on him. Bursting outside, she saw him run across the street, his footfalls splashing up water. He slipped into an alley between two buildings—one condemned and the other a mirror image of his apartment house. Josie sprinted after him, running down the alley, catching a flash of his shirt before he turned left, behind the condemned building. Josie emerged into a lot flanked by high concrete walls on two sides. A dumpster lay tipped over in a two-foot puddle of murk where the floodwaters had collected with nowhere to recede to. Silas dashed across the lot toward the dumpster and jumped on top of it. He was going to scale the wall, Josie realized.

  “Stop,” she yelled. “Police!”

  His sneakers slipped on the surface of the dumpster, and he fell on all fours. Scrambling to his feet, he reached up and tried to grab the top of the wall. It was too high.

  “Stop,” Josie said again. “Stop right there! Police!”

  He jumped up, trying to reach the edge again as Josie waded through water so grimy, dirty, and greasy that it was black with a rainbow oil slick running across it. There was no time to be concerned about what was soaking through her pants into her skin and her fresh stitches. Hopping onto the dumpster, she rushed at Silas, slamming into him from behind and knocking the wind out of him. He fell forward and she stayed on him, flipping him onto his stomach and applying zip ties to his wrists.

  “Get off me,” he wheezed when he caught his breath. “I ain’t done nothing!”

  Gretchen appeared from the alley, huffing and pale. Josie jumped down from the dumpster and dragged Silas through the water to where Gretchen stood, leaning against the wall of the building. Josie shoved Silas forward and he stopped, turning back toward her, his dark eyes flashing. “Are you crazy? I didn’t do nothing. Take this shit off me.”

  Gretchen said, “If you didn’t do anything, why’d you run?”

  He stood in the mouth of the alleyway facing them. “I don’t trust cops, that’s why.”

  Josie sighed. “I’ve seen your rap sheet, Mr. Murphy. You ought to know that the quickest way to get in trouble with the cops is to run. I don’t really believe you when you tell me you haven’t done anything.”

  Under his breath, he let out a stream of curses. Then he said, “You arresting me then or what?”

  Gretchen said, “That depends on whether you answer our questions or not.”

  He sneered. “That depends on what the questions are.”

  Josie said, “We need to talk to you about Vera Urban.”

  “Oh Christ. That? All right, all right. Yeah, I saw that stuff on the news about her kid. But look, I haven’t seen Vera in damn near twenty years. She was on me every day for this and that, owed me a lot of money, and then one day she skipped town without a word.”

  “Did you look for her?” Gretchen asked.

  “Of course,” he said. “Never found her.”

  “You said she owed you money,” Josie said. “What was that for?”

  His face changed as he realized his slip. Josie could tell by the way his eyes went up toward the sky that he was trying to come up with a good lie. Josie said, “You don’t have to make anything up. We’re not here about your drug dealing.”

  “I don’t deal drugs.”

  Josie knew he was lying but, for the moment, it didn’t matter. They needed information from him about the past. “Silas,” she said. “We don’t care about that. We need to know about Vera Urban.”

  Gretchen said, “Where were you two mornings ago?”

  His gaze snapped toward her. “Wh
at?”

  “Two mornings ago,” Gretchen repeated. “About seven a.m. Where were you?”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think?” Josie asked.

  “I don’t know what the hell happened or what you’re trying to pin on me, but I was at home asleep.”

  Josie said, “Can anyone corroborate that?”

  “Shit,” he said. “My dog, okay? He can corroborate it. Why are you asking me this stuff?”

  “Tell us again the last time you saw Vera Urban,” Gretchen said.

  “I don’t know. Like, almost twenty years ago. It was—it was the year that the Jays won the state championship.”

  Josie and Gretchen exchanged a look. Josie said, “You mean the Denton East Blue Jays?”

  “Yeah,” Silas said. “Everyone in the city was following it. You don’t remember?”

  Gretchen said, “I’m not from here.”

  Silas shook his head. “Well, it was a big deal. We don’t have professional sports teams. People were into it, you know? Anyway, it was around then; that was the last time I saw her.”

  “How long had you known Vera?” Josie asked.

  “I don’t know. My whole life, practically. We went to school together. She was a few years ahead of me, but we just knew each other, from, like, around.”

  Josie said, “Silas, we looked at your rap sheet before we came here. We know you’ve been in and out of prison your entire life for drug offenses. So I’m going to ask you again—and we’re not interested in arresting you—did you supply Vera Urban with drugs?”

  “You can’t arrest me,” he said. “This is, like, off the record.”

  “We’re not journalists, Silas,” Gretchen told him. “But just as Detective Quinn said, we’re not interested in any drug-related crimes you might have committed decades ago. We just want information from you.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I might have helped Vera get some drugs back in the day.” He turned slightly and shook his bound hands. “Will you take these off now?”

  Ignoring his plea, Josie asked, “What kinds of drugs?”

  “Pills,” he said. “That was all she wanted. It wasn’t even for her, just so you know. Vera wasn’t like that. I mean, not then.”

  “Who were the pills for?” Gretchen asked.

  “She worked at this hair place, you know? She had all these rich bitch clients. They were taking them like candy. Vera was in tight with them. She liked being a part of their little group, I think. So yeah, I helped her out.”

  “That was it?” Josie prodded.

  She let the uncomfortable silence play out until Silas became agitated, one of his feet tapping against the broken pavement. “All right, fine,” he said. “One of them liked pot and there was another one who got hooked on cocaine—and I mean hooked. She would do anything.”

  Josie said, “How do you know that? Wasn’t Vera the one supplying them with the drugs?”

  His eyes widened as he realized he had said too much yet again. “Shit,” he repeated.

  Gretchen said, “You met these women? Vera’s clients?”

  “Listen,” he said. “I didn’t do anything wrong. These women, you gotta understand, they were bored. Bored rich bitches.”

  “Vera invited you to their parties?” Josie asked.

  “Not at first, but then one night they were partying, and they needed more so Vera called me up. I went over to one of their fancy-ass houses, and they wouldn’t let me leave.”

  “Wouldn’t let you leave?” Gretchen echoed.

  “They were all over me. Their husbands were rich assholes, out traveling and playing golf or whatever rich assholes do. Everything that happened—they wanted it. They asked for it.”

  “It was consensual?” Josie said.

  “Yeah, consensual.”

  “What exactly was consensual, Silas?” Gretchen said.

  “Oh come on. You gonna make me say it? You know what. The sex, okay?”

  “You had an affair with one of them?” Josie asked.

  He laughed. “An affair? No. It wasn’t like that. They just wanted a boy-toy.”

  “They?” Josie prompted. “How many women were there, Silas? Did you sleep with them all?”

  “Sort of.”

  Josie said, “You ‘sort of’ had sexual relationships with all of them?”

  “A couple of them flirted with me but then when things started to get… heated, they backed out.”

  “Do you remember the names of the women you actually had encounters with?” Gretchen asked.

  “That was a long time ago, okay?”

  “What about Vera?” Josie asked. “Did you ever have sex with her?”

  “That was a huge mistake,” he said. “I should have known. She was always hung up on me, you know? We were together a couple of times, and then I had to put a stop to it. She was getting clingy and jealous. I had to stay away from that. She wanted a relationship and shit. She wanted to get married. I wasn’t into it.”

  “But you got married eventually, didn’t you?” Gretchen asked. “In 2000?”

  He rolled his eyes. “That was a mistake, okay? Lasted a coupla years and then I kicked that bitch to the curb.”

  “You got divorced?”

  “Yeah, she took care of it. All I had to do was sign some papers.”

  Josie said, “We understand there were four women who were regularly at these parties with Vera and her wealthy friends. Do you remember their names?”

  “Like I said, I don’t remember no names. That was like, thirty years ago.”

  “But you remember four women?” Gretchen asked.

  “Yeah. Four.”

  “Of those four, you slept with how many? Two?” Josie said.

  “I guess, yeah. I mean, not at the same time. They didn’t know about each other. I don’t think. Unless they talked to each other behind my back.”

  Was this what Mayor Charleston was hiding? Josie wondered. A thirty-year-old tryst with a local drug dealer while she was married? “You know that one of those women became the Mayor of Denton?” Josie said.

  “I thought that was her, yeah,” he replied.

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  Color crept into his cheeks. “I don’t want to say,” he told them. “I don’t actually remember. We got hot and heavy this one night, but I don’t remember what happened. I was pretty drunk at most of those things.”

  Josie said, “Did you ever try to use this information against the Mayor in any way?”

  He raised a brow. “Like what way? Like blackmail? It’s not like I have proof. I’m not even sure what happened. It would just be my word against hers and she’s the Mayor.”

  But Josie knew that wasn’t the way Tara Charleston handled things. Silas Murphy was a loose end, and Tara would have tied him up one way or another.

  “She never came to you? Offered to help you in some way in exchange for you pretending that you’d never met her? Never partied with her? That you definitely never hooked up with her?”

  He said nothing.

  Josie looked at Gretchen. “You have his rap sheet on your phone, by any chance?”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Gretchen said. She took a moment to pull it up. Silas stared at them in confusion. For a moment, thoughts of Lisette and Sawyer Hayes crowded Josie’s mind, but she pushed them away. Finally, Gretchen handed her the phone.

  Josie scrolled down the list. “Silas, you’ve got a lot of charges here that were nolle prossed.”

  “So I got charges dropped, so what?” he said.

  “Not dropped,” Josie told him. “Nolle prossed. That means the prosecutor chose not to prosecute you. It doesn’t mean they were dropped. You could still be tried for them.”

  “Wait, what? No, no. They were dropped. That’s what she said. They’d be dropped. Gone.”

  “She?” Josie asked, handing Gretchen’s phone back. “So the Mayor has helped you?”

  “Oh come on, man,” Silas complained, groaning. “Why are you doing th
is to me? So what? The Mayor put in a good word for me now and then with the prosecutor. I agreed that nothing ever happened between us and that it was unnecessary for me to ever bring it up. I don’t even know why you care. You know, it wasn’t like we were doing terrible things. Me, Vera, the Mayor, their friends? We were all just having a good time. We were all young—like in our early twenties—and high and drunk. We’d party together. People party when they’re young like that. Sometimes I’d end up in a bedroom with one of them. Things happened. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “For how long?” Gretchen asked. “How long did things happen?”

  “I don’t know. Till one of them had to go into rehab. I was at a couple more parties after that and that was it. Vera stopped doing it. The cocaine lady, I saw her for a while longer. She stopped going through Vera and came to me directly. That lasted a lotta years but then she died.”

  “We’re aware of that,” Josie said. “So you were providing drugs for these ‘parties’ that your friend Vera was having for a select number of her salon clients. You attended those parties and eventually ended up engaging in a sexual relationship with some of these women. Then one of them went into rehab and the parties stopped happening. But you maintained your relationship with Vera.”

  “Well, yeah. We were friends. I didn’t really see her after the parties stopped. Then she got pregnant. I hardly saw her at all after that.”

  Josie thought of the photo that Beverly had taken. “Never again?”

  “It was a long time, okay? Her kid was like, grown up and shit by the time she started coming around again. She hurt her back and she needed stuff, so I helped her.”

  “You helped her by getting her painkillers.”

  “I helped her with her pain,” he corrected.

  “Were there other things you helped her with?” Gretchen asked.