by Robin Mahle
Charlie folded her arms across her chest. “No, we’re not.”
“Oh yeah, we’re the same.”
It had been two days since the deadly murders and Detective Montoya’s only person of interest was the husband, Carlos Diaz.
Shane sipped on his coffee steaming from its paper cup when he noticed the senior detective looming toward him. “Montoya. What can I do for you?”
“Sully, we got a problem.” He dropped a file onto Shane’s desk. “You mind telling me what your friend’s prints were doing all over Tommy Boyce’s office?”
“Despite what you might think, I actually have a lot of friends. You want to help me narrow it down?” Shane asked.
“I’m not dicking around, man. You know I’m talking about Allison Hart.”
“If I recall, she mentioned to you she went there that night looking for Tommy.”
Montoya’s veins bulged on his neck and forehead. “She also said she didn’t go inside. Now I find her prints? She contaminated my scene. That’s not okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’ll find out what happened. Hey um, did any other prints come back?”
“Not yet. Hers were in the system because of her previous job. We’re still waiting for any others.”
Shane nodded. “Look, Montoya, I get you’re pissed but Allison’s not withholding information from you. What can I do to help?”
“Remind your girlfriend who’s in charge. It’s bad enough she’s all over that office, I don’t want to discover her prints or anything else of hers anywhere near this case or I’m going to have no choice but to include her as a suspect.”
“I get you. And hey, let me know if you need anything. I’m here to help. I mean that,” Shane replied.
“Just keep Allison Hart away from my investigation.” Montoya turned on his heel and disappeared beyond the corridor.
Montoya didn’t know what he was asking. It was like asking a shark to avoid the school of fish heading right toward him. Allison wasn’t going to give up because he said so. Nevertheless, Shane would need to take care to keep Allison and Montoya at arm’s length from one another. He’d known her long enough to understand that if Montoya pushed, she would push back—harder. It was dumb luck she had gotten away clean that night. By all rights, she should be dead too. Allison was in deep now and Shane would have to help her not only play it safe but stay safe.
Finley Dawson jogged into the surf with his board under his arm. The waves had been forecasted at between 5 and 6 feet this morning; perfect for him to catch a few before work. His sandy blonde hair went dark as he plunged under the water before springing up and laying on his board with ease and agility. With his arms gently paddling, Fin watched the rolling wave approach and in one swift motion, he jumped to his feet and rode the wave back to shore. When the surf dumped him near the shoreline, he bobbed for a moment until reeling in his board. Upon resurfacing, he spotted a woman standing on the shore only feet from him. The glare of the morning sun made it difficult to identify her, though her silhouette was lean. She waved to him.
Fin squinted and placed his hand on his brow to shield the glare. “Allison?” He paddled to shore and carried his board to meet her where she stood. “Allison, what are you doing here?”
“I was wondering if you could sit down with me for a minute.” She pulled down her sunglasses. “There’s a coffee stand up the street.”
“Sure.” He rammed the bottom of his board into the soft sand and followed her. “How did you find me?”
“I tried your phone, then checked your house and figured at this time of morning, this was the most logical place to try next.”
“No wonder why Tommy liked you.”
Allison smiled. “I don’t know if he liked me, but I do know how to read people.” She continued toward the small booth near the oceanfront. “Morning. Two coffees please.”
The man inside the air-conditioned kiosk leaned over. “Cream and sugar?”
Allison turned back to Fin. “Well?”
“Both. Thanks.”
She turned back to the man. “Both, yeah, thanks.”
“That’ll be right up.” He disappeared inside.
“What did you want to talk about?” Water droplets clung to Fin’s chest and his wet hair curled up into ringlets.
Allison tried hard not to stare. The sunglasses offered an effective disguise. “The man you told me about. I tried to reach him last night.”
“Good. Was he helpful?”
“Well, I had hoped he would be but according to his voicemail, he’s on vacation. And unfortunately, he didn’t give any time frame on his return.”
The man inside the booth held two cups. “Here you go, ma’am. That’ll be $8.75 please.”
Allison handed him a ten. “Keep the change.”
He glared at her with mild contempt.
“Hey buddy, I’m unemployed. Wish I could do more.” She reached for the cups and handed one to Fin.
“Thanks. I can pay for this,” he said.
She raised her hand. “Don’t worry about it.” Allison sat down at one of the tables where Fin joined her. “I don’t suppose you would have any idea where this guy would vacation, would you?”
Fin sipped on his coffee and chuckled. “I’m afraid not. I’m sorry it didn’t pan out.”
“I should probably clear up something. I want you to know I’m not after your clients or your contacts. My only goal is to find out who killed Tommy Boyce. It would be helpful if I knew who his enemies were.”
“Allison, I wish I could help you. I really do. Look, I was friends with Tommy and I’m sorry as hell he’s gone. It hasn’t really sunk in yet, but I told you everything I know. If you think I’m threatened by you, then you’ve totally misread my intent.”
“One thing I failed to mention last night was that I went to Tommy’s office after the shootings. The detective in charge just got the report of my prints in his office. He wasn’t happy that I’d been there.”
“I’m sure. But why did you go?” Fin asked.
“After what happened, I knew I had to talk to Tommy. He wasn’t answering his phone, so I went to his office. Unfortunately, someone beat me to it. The place had been tossed. My point is, I got a call early this morning from my detective-friend. He said Montoya, who’s running the investigation, hasn’t received any other reports of fingerprints back yet. Just mine.”
“And this is a concern for me why?” Fin asked.
“After I identified Tommy’s body yesterday morning, my friend and I went back to Boyce’s office in search of any new details that would tell us what the hell happened. He took his kit with him and pulled prints. And when he ran them through the system, he got back more than just mine. I don’t know how or when you did it, but you should’ve told me you had been to his office too.” She sipped on her coffee and eyed him, waiting for a response.
Allison just stepped on a landmine. She had no such evidence and neither of them had returned to Boyce’s office. She was playing the odds, and in a moment, she would know if the landmine would explode in her face.
“I told you I worked with Tommy on a regular basis. It should come as no surprise my prints were found in his office. What is surprising is that your buddy pulled prints in the first place. This isn’t his investigation.” Fin eyed her for a moment. “Why don’t you tell me the real reason you tracked me down this morning, Allison? Somehow, I don’t think it was to check out my surfing skills.”
“If I’m going to find out who’s responsible for killing Tommy Boyce, I’m going to need your full cooperation,” Allison began. “You were at Tommy’s office. Makes sense. But then why act like you didn’t know anything? Were you helping him with the Diaz case?”
Charlie Wells still worked for the Bureau at the state agency. The ordeal regarding Davis Cantrell was ongoing and the man had been placed on administrative leave, with pay. Had it been any other of the staff it would have meant immediate dismissal or at the very least, leave with no pay. Typi
cal upper management crap as far as Charlie was concerned. But she had a job, for now. Although the prospect of moonlighting with her closest friend, Allison, sent her mind soaring. It would be an incredible opportunity and allow her to finally leave this joint and move on to something better. Something more exciting and maybe someday it might help her toward retirement.
Charlie plugged away on her computer when she spotted a surprise visitor. “Shane, what are you doing here?”
“Hey, Charlie. Don’t suppose you’ve heard from Allison?”
Charlie turned stone-faced. “No. She should be at home. Why? Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened. Everything’s fine. That I know of.” He glanced around for any eavesdroppers. “I need to find her though and she’s not home. She’s not answering her phone either. I was hoping you knew what she had going on this morning.”
“I haven’t talked to her yet. She can’t just up and disappear like this.” Charlie’s tone was laced with fear. “I’ll go tell my boss I have an appointment or something. Give me one minute.” She marched through the hall leaving Shane at her desk.
“I have an emergency.” Charlie stood in the doorway of her supervisor. “It’s one of my boys. I have to pick him up from school.” Almost everyone in her office, including her supervisor, was well aware of Charlie’s trouble with her deadbeat ex-husband and how she was pretty much on her own where her boys were concerned.
“Of course you can leave. Maybe shoot me a text later to let me know everything’s okay?” the woman said.
“I will. Thank you.” Charlie marched headstrong back to her desk where Shane waited. She reached in a drawer and grabbed her purse and started away. “Let’s go.”
“Where to?” He jogged to catch up with her.
“We’ll figure that out in the car.”
10
The question lingered for far too long and made the hair on Allison’s neck stand on end, even in the heat of a rising sun. Fin appeared caught off guard by her question of his involvement with the Diaz case that brought an end to Tommy Boyce.
“I’m not sure what it is you think you know, Allison, but I worked with Tommy regularly. We exchanged information on a variety of cases. Frankly, I don’t know you. Tommy didn’t know you. If you think I’m going to hand over sensitive details to someone whose motives I haven’t figured out, then you’re mistaken.”
The young surfer who could melt the heart of any woman with a blink of his eyes had hardened in an instant. But Allison wasn’t just any woman.
“You can dance around it all you want but the sooner we get on the same page, the sooner we’ll find out who killed Tommy and maybe who killed the couple.” As strong as Allison portrayed herself to be, there was a hint of fear beneath the surface. This man who had seemed so open to helping her earlier had withheld vital information either to protect himself or someone else. Maybe she didn’t want to consider the alternative. Maybe Finley Dawson had something to do with Boyce’s murder.
“I got the heads up from Goodfellow’s housekeeper about the wife showing up that night,” Fin conceded. “Tommy knew from what the husband had said about her visiting friends, but he wanted something solid and asked me to check around. He needed some extra hands, as you know. And I found Harlan Goodfellow’s housekeeper. She said she’d been instructed to clean that day and stock the fridge, including alcohol. She was also instructed to light candles and whatever else he wanted to impress his mistress with. So, I figured the two would be found at his place that night.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this from the start?” She tipped back the last of her coffee that had already cooled. “You’re right. I didn’t know Tommy. But he trusted me enough to hire me for the task. You say you were close to him, then you should’ve known well enough to trust his instincts.”
“Fine. Maybe I was wrong, okay? I’ll admit it. I don’t see how this helps you get any closer to finding out who killed him,” Fin replied.
“It doesn’t. I just need to know what I’m up against. I don’t profess to be some great detective with a nose for clues, but I am good at what I do.”
“Which is?” Fin added.
“I’m good at exposing the liars. Now, you can sit on the sidelines or you can get on the field and we’ll find out who killed Tommy together.”
“So tell me, oh wise one,” Shane began. “Where will we find the elusive Allison Hart on this fine morning?”
Charlie glanced at him from the driver’s seat of her car. “There’s only one other person, besides you and me, who Allison would confide in.”
“Milo,” he replied.
“You got it.” She grabbed her cell phone. “I’m going to find out if he’s talked to her today.” Charlie dialed the number and waited for the line to answer. “Hey Milo, it’s Charlie Wells.”
“I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” Milo replied.
“Let me guess, you’ve talked to Allison this morning?” she asked. “Please tell me you know where she is. I’m with Shane and we need to talk to her.”
“I haven’t talked to her, actually. Not since yesterday when I offered her the name of one of Boyce’s associates.”
“Was that Finley Dawson?” she asked.
“The one and only.”
“Do you know how I can reach him?” Charlie added.
“I’ll text you his number. Let me know if you hear from her, okay?” Milo said.
“I will. Thanks, Milo.” Charlie ended the call. “She might be with this guy she met last night.”
“A guy she met last night?” Shane asked.
“Yeah. Tell me about it. Anyway, his name if Finley Dawson and I guess he worked with Tommy. Milo’s sending over his number now.”
“I should try her phone again. The detective working the case came to me this morning. He said Allison’s prints were all over Boyce’s office when his team went through it looking for evidence. I covered for her, but if that detective gets a wild hair, she’ll be the one under the microscope.”
“Allison did say she was there that night,” Charlie began.
“What she told me was that she was careful and didn’t leave behind prints.”
“Sounds like she wasn’t as careful as she thought,” Charlie said. “I just want to find her. We’ll figure out the rest afterward.”
Allison pulled off her sunglasses and examined her phone. “I need to take this if you don’t mind?”
“Go ahead,” Fin replied.
“Charlie, what’s going on?” She said into her phone as she stepped away from the table. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“You’re in the middle of something? Shane’s been trying to get hold of you. I’ve been trying to get hold of you. Where are you, Alli?”
“Calm down. I’m fine. I’m at the beach.”
“What? Why are you at the beach?” Charlie asked.
“I’m meeting with someone. Tell Shane I’m sorry for not answering but I’ll call him back later. Is that all you needed?”
“Is that someone Finley Dawson?”
Allison raised her brow. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess. Look, do you know anything about this guy?”
“I’m learning.” She peered at him and revealed a brief smile. “Charlie, I’m going to have to call you back.”
“Wait. Shane needs to ask you something.” Charlie handed him the phone. “Better make it quick.”
“Allison, it’s Shane. Montoya approached me first thing this morning. He said your prints came back all over Boyce’s office.”
In light of the imaginary scenario she had presented to Fin, this seemed unreal. “That’s not possible. I told you I was careful.”
“I know. That’s why I needed to talk to you. Somehow your prints are there and yet you didn’t leave them.”
Allison glanced at Fin who was drinking his coffee. “No, I didn’t. I’m sure I was careful.”
“We need to put our heads together. Maybe you shou
ld excuse yourself from that meeting of yours and come to the station. Look, I covered for you with Montoya—for now. But we should get a handle on just who Finley Dawson is before you put all your eggs in one basket.”
“Sure, okay. I’ll wrap things up here and meet you back at the station. Give me just a little bit.”
“I’ll see you later. And Allison, be cool. Don’t let Dawson pick up on the fact he was the topic of conversation,” Shane said.
“Sure thing. I’ll be cool.” Allison ended the call and returned to the table. “Sorry about that.”
“Everything okay?” Fin asked.
“Just peachy. But I will have to cut short this meeting. What’s your answer?” Allison leaned over the table and waited. In the back of her mind, she wondered how she had been careless enough to leave prints. Maybe it didn’t matter now, but Shane’s hackles were raised about Dawson. She had faith that Tommy was a good guy and so were the people he surrounded himself with. But she didn’t really know.
“You’re asking me to break into the office of a dead man,” Fin said. “If there was anything to be found it would have been uncovered already.”
“Maybe. But what I’m looking for the cops might not have found. You know more about Tommy than I do. What are the odds that we’d find surveillance footage at Boyce’s office? Tommy was smart. I have no doubt he had cameras everywhere. Probably in places the cops wouldn’t think to look.”
He inhaled deeply. “He had cameras. That much I know. And there’s a slim chance they were tucked away where the cops wouldn’t find them. You want to go to his office to look for video evidence? Is that what you’re saying?”
“As clearly as I possibly can,” Allison replied. “I’d like to do this tonight. The sooner, the better. Preferably before the cops get around to looking any harder.”
He nodded. “Tonight. 9 pm. We’ll meet at his office.”
Allison walked into the stationhouse and removed her sunglasses. “Hey Jan, is Sully here?” she asked the desk clerk.
