“Oh, yeah? Anyone I know?”
To Cliff’s shock, Ryan’s cheeks turned red. “Yeah. Shelby.”
Cliff’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding me.”
Apparently unable to meet Cliff’s eyes, Ryan shrugged. “Nah. We sorta hooked up a few months ago, and…I dunno…it’ s been cool getting to know him and what?” He rounded on Cliff, who couldn’t stop the huge smile on his face.
“Nothing. I think it’s great. I’m glad you’ve met someone.”
“I haven’t met someone. It’s no big deal. We’re just enjoying each other and hanging out. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.”
Ryan glared at him, but Cliff schooled his face to remain neutral even though inside he was fist-pumping for his best friend. Cliff liked Shelby a lot. His quiet nature hid a wickedly funny sense of humor, and Cliff’s wish was now for the two men to settle into a serious relationship. Despite Ryan saying he didn’t want one, sometimes he could protest too much.
“Where are you going?”
“Dinner, then dancing at the Wild Orchid.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It will be. Now I gotta go.”
They gave each other a big hug, and Cliff walked Ryan to his car. “Maybe this weekend the four of us can get together?”
Ryan sighed. “Cliffie. I know what you’re trying to do, but don’t get it in your head this is anything other than Shelby and me hooking up and letting off some steam.”
“Okay, okay. I’m not pushing.” He put his hands up. “But you have to eat, right? So why not the four of us?”
Ryan’s lips twitched but before he could answer, Cliff heard the squeal of tires as a truck came racing down the street, the blaring music breaking the silence of the quiet afternoon. Instinctively Cliff froze, preparing himself for what, he couldn’t be sure.
“You cheating on your man, there, Baxter?” The grinning, unshaven face of Travis Falk appeared in the window. “Jesus, you got a parade of queers coming in and out of your place, don’tcha?” He leered, and both fear and disgust cramped Cliff’s stomach. “But that’s what you like. In and out. Maybe I should come over and give it a try.”
Fury sent Cliff storming over to the truck. “Shut the fuck up, Travis. You come anywhere near me, and I’ll have your ass in jail so fast, you won’t know what hit you.” An idea sprang to mind. “You have anything to do with shooting out my window this morning? Better confess now before Paul finds out.”
Travis snorted and belched, then took a swig from the paper bag he held between his knees. Cliff would lay bets that it was beer. “I ain’t gonna waste no good bullets.” His beady eyes narrowed to slits. “If I wanna git you, I’ll come do it myself. Personally.” He bared his yellow teeth in a grin.
“That better not be a threat.” Nausea bubbled in Cliff’s stomach, and he wondered if he was reading too much innuendo into Travis’s words. “Stay away from us.”
Without waiting for a response, he strode back to Ryan, who’d come to meet him halfway. Travis laughed and gunned the truck, taking off for his house. He pulled into the driveway and hopped out. He and his father had the same protruding beer bellies, but where Wilbur had run to fat, Travis was big and brawny, and his stained T-shirt stretched across a barrel chest and thickly muscled shoulders.
“You’re white as a ghost. What did that asshole say to you?” Ryan searched his face.
“Nothing. Just stupid talk. He’s an idiot. I don’t pay much attention to him.” Cliff gave Ryan a push. “Now get out of here and make yourself pretty for your date.”
But Ryan didn’t join his smile. “I don’t like the look of him. He’s mean and ignorant, which can sometimes be a deadly combination. You need to watch your back with him.”
“You too?” Cliff snapped. “You’re doing exactly what Paul does. Shunting me aside to be the protector. I said it’s no big deal, and it isn’t.”
“There’s a difference between being overprotective and simple caring. Paul and I both love you, and that guy is a brute.”
Exhaling, Cliff gave him a wan smile. “I’m overreacting, huh?”
“A little. Now I really gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Cliff watched Ryan drive away, but despite his cautionary words, he couldn’t help glancing across the street at the Falks’ house, where Travis sat on the porch, a beer in his hand. Was that a smirk Cliff saw? Unwilling to poke the bear, he decided to forgo working outside in the garden.
Before he set foot on the steps to the front porch, Judy bustled over with a covered dish in her hands. “Here you are, dearie. I didn’t think you would want to cook tonight, so I made you and Paul a ham casserole.”
He mustered a smile. “Thanks, Judy.” The last time she’d brought them over dinner, it was because Paul had mentioned to her in passing that he’d been sick with the flu. It had been an inedible hunk of overcooked meat, and they’d ended up ordering in.
“It’s Father’s favorite, so I hope you love it.” Her gaze darted from his for a second, then returned, and he was a little startled by the shrewdness he saw there. “I saw you talking to that Travis. He’s a bad one, I hope you know.”
Figuring he might be able to help Paul, Cliff decided to ask her some questions. “What do you mean?”
“Well…” She moved closer, ready to settle in for a bit of gossip Cliff was more than willing to receive. “I’ve heard he’s with a bad crowd, and they’ve been saying some strange things. Maybe I should’ve said something to Paul, now that I think of it.”
Prickles of awareness rose on his skin. “What did you hear? Who told you?”
She cocked her head. “It was Dorothy from Moonshine Liquors.” Her eyes twinkled. “I stop by there once a week to pick up a little something for Father.”
Father was smarter than any of them, Cliff mused. “What did she say?” He tried not to sound impatient.
“Well, let me think…” She scrunched her nose. “Just that some guys were making noise, and the one they called Trav—I assumed this was Travis Falk—was bragging about coming into money soon. And that if things went according to plan, everything would turn out the way they wanted.”
“What the heck does that mean?” Cliff muttered, forcing himself not to look over at the Falks’ house again.
“I don’t know, dear, but I guess if you told Paul, he would know what to do?” Her bright eyes searched his.
“I will. Thank you, Judy. For the food and the information.”
“You’re welcome.”
He watched her quick steps back to the side entrance of her house before mounting the stairs to his own and going inside. The casserole went in the fridge, and then he picked up his phone and texted Paul.
Spoke to Judy Swanson. Said Dorothy at Moonshine Liquors overheard Travis saying he’d be coming into money soon if things went according to plan. Thought you’d want to know. Plus she brought us a casserole for dinner.
The message delivered, he saw Paul was typing a response.
Thanks, Detective in Training. Will check it out. Dump the casserole. I’ll bring home Maria’s.
Cliff snorted. He sent a thumbs-up and decided to clean the bathroom, his heart lighter than it had been since morning. Everything would be okay.
Chapter Five
“So how pissed off was Cliff at you for not telling him about the notes?” Rob drove while Paul ran through what he wrote down.
“On a scale from one to ten?” Paul grunted. “About four hundred fifty-six.”
Rob whistled. “Damn. What do you have to do to make it up to him?”
Sweat trickled down Paul’s neck despite the cool of the car’s air conditioner. “Something I’ve been putting off. Talking about Harley.”
Rob expelled a sharp breath. “That’s gonna be rough. I’m sorry. Cliff was his best friend, right?”
“Yeah. Next to our family, Cliff was the closest to him. And maybe…” Paul rubbed his jaw, staring at the cars passing them on the highway. “Just
maybe, Cliff knew him better than anyone, us included.”
“Well, then hopefully when you two talk it out, you’ll get some peace. I know it still eats you up inside, but I never met your brother, so it wouldn’t be much help talking to me about it.”
“It’s okay. Cliff and I will work it out.”
“I have no doubt,” Rob said, exiting the highway. “Okay. Now what about the shots and the notes? You think they’re connected?”
“Don’t know. We’ll have to sort things through when we get back to the station.”
They turned onto the street, and Paul spotted the squat gray building of the Thornwood Park police station. “Let’s hope we get a chance to work on it and don’t get sidetracked.”
Once inside, Paul immediately placed a call to Manny. “Anything yet?”
“Bulldog, damn. Give us a chance. It’s only been an hour or so. Believe me, we got the whole team working on it.” He paused. “So…” Paul tensed but decided the time had fucking come.
“Yeah, Manny. It’s my house. I live there. With Cliff Baxter.”
Manny’s voice softened. “I understand the concern. And I’ll make sure to ride the lab. One of our own deserves the highest priority.”
“Thanks.” It shouldn’t be so hard to simply be yourself.
“Always, man.”
He hung up and sat for a second.
Rob came over and sat down. “Paulie. You okay?”
He gazed at Rob. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. I just told Manny I lived there with Cliff.”
Rob’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, man. You okay? Manny was cool with it? Lemme get you a cup of coffee.” To Paul’s amusement, he scrambled out of his seat and raced to the coffeemaker and back in the span of a minute. He proffered the cup of hot coffee to Paul. “Here. So it was good, right?”
Paul had to laugh. “Yeah, it was. It really was fine. I think Manny was afraid to ask, and then I thought to myself, ‘Why am I hiding it as if there’s something wrong with it?’ ” Emotions swirled inside him. “There’s nothing wrong with who I am. I’m the same as you and everyone else, so why should I have to be afraid?”
Rob gazed at him steadily. “You shouldn’t have to be. And now I hope you’re not.”
“It’s still not that simple.” He dropped his gaze to stare into the milky depths of his coffee. “It’s all easy for you. Straight is the norm. The expected. But every time someone asks me where I live, and I want to say, ‘With Cliff,’ it’s another time where I have to prepare myself, to make sure it’s safe to come out.”
“I’m sorry it has to be this way. You know how I feel about it.”
His lips ticked up in a quick smile. “I do. Every day I feel better about myself.”
“Well, good. Now you better haul ass and earn your keep.”
Paul chuckled. “The notes are in to test for fingerprints and for the handwriting analysis. Manny’s moved the file to the top. And we know the shots fired through the window came from a .357.” He pulled out his phone and opened the text from Cliff. “Cliff said a neighbor told him a clerk from Moonshine Liquors mentioned Travis was boasting about coming into money soon.”
“Interesting. Guess we’ll need to pay a visit there.”
“But until we get the info from Forensics, we should work on the Main Street robberies.” He clicked open the file on his computer, bringing up all the notes they’d scanned in. Over the past year, the department had been slowly converting all its hard-copy files to digital, and while Paul disapproved at first, he had to admit it was handy to have everything searchable on-screen instead of shuffling through boxes of files and papers. “I’ll call the first two—Today’s Man and the electronics store—and you can take the jewelry store and the Curry Spot. We can see if anyone’s willing to talk to us today, or if not, we’ll start setting up interviews for tomorrow.”
Rob hitched his chair closer to the desk. “Okay. Looks like they shot out the lock to the safe in the jewelry store. Forensics has the shell casings, and they’re from a Ruger LCP.”
“No weapons used at any of the other jobs, but they minimized the need to, because they hit the stores after they closed.” Paul clicked through the notes he and Rob had compiled over the past few months. “No known commonality between the stores, except they’re all members of the Thornwood Park Chamber of Commerce. Could be something.”
Rob picked up the phone. “Might as well start now.”
Paul pulled up the numbers he needed to call. Within half an hour, they had two appointments set up. Who knew everyone was so anxious to talk to the police?
Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a parking space in front of Twenty-Four Karat. Despite the break-in and burglary, the jewelry store was open and, from what Paul could see as they walked inside, busy. The display cases that had been damaged were covered by heavy cloths, but aside from that, not a trace remained that a violent crime had taken place there.
“Gentlemen, can I help you?” a tall man in his early fifties, with dark, silver-streaked hair greeted them. His accent made Paul smile.
“New York or New Jersey?”
The man’s bright-blue eyes twinkled. “Long Island, to be exact. I’m Jeffrey Rothstein, the owner.”
“Detective Paul Monroe, and this is my partner, Detective Rob Gormley, of Thornwood Park PD. We’d like to talk to you in greater detail about the break-in on July fifteenth.”
His eyes dimmed. “Would you mind if we went to the back? I have an office where we can sit and have some privacy.”
As they crossed the space of the jewelry store, they passed a woman behind one of the non-damaged display cases, showing a necklace to a customer. “Elana,” Jeffrey said, “I’ll be in the office.”
The woman’s gaze met Paul’s and then Rob’s. She nodded. “We’ll hold down the fort, don’t worry. Joshua is with me.” Her accent was light, but Paul noticed it right away and wondered where she was from.
“Joshua is our son,” Jeffrey said. “He works with us. Keeping it all in the family.”
A man in his late twenties or maybe early thirties, with Jeffrey’s blue eyes and his mother’s thick, coppery hair, stood by her side. He was big and built like a football player, yet handled the necklaces with care. He sent them a friendly smile, his gaze lingering on Paul. It was fleeting, but enough.
Jeffrey led them to a room and closed the door behind them. “Please take a seat. Can I get you gentlemen a drink of water or anything?” He took a seat behind a desk piled with magazines, a computer, and various uncut stones that looked like crystals embedded in rocks.
They both declined, and Paul flipped open his memo book. “Can you tell us a bit about the store, Mr. Rothstein? It’s relatively new, correct?”
“Yes. About a year. My family moved here from New York. My wife can’t take the cold anymore, plus we were looking to downsize and move toward retirement in a few years. Our son, Joshua, is going to take over the business when we do.”
“He didn’t mind moving down here with you?” Rob posed the first question.
“Not when he knows he’ll own the store in a few years. He went to business school after college and always knew he wanted to be in the jewelry business with us; he grew up in the store. So, to make a long story short”—he laughed—“no.”
“Getting back to the break-in. Can you tell us what happened? Anything out of the ordinary occur that you might remember?”
Jeffrey stroked his chin. “No, nothing that I can recall. We had a good day with strong sales.”
“No disagreements with any customers, or complaints? Do you only have family working here?”
“Yes, just the three of us.” Jeffrey grinned. “Believe it or not, no complaints. Even though we’re relatively new, our clientele is mostly repeat customers. We’re trying to keep our prices low and be competitive, and also become part of the community. We’re participating in the ‘Get to Know Your Neighbor’ Saturday celebrations the Chamber of Commerce organizes, and we have discounts for seniors and
students. Plus we’re going to participate in the big jewelry sale and auction next month at the Starrywood Hotel. All to get more involved with the community. Joshua also works with the kids at the youth center in East Thornwood Park, in their after-school programs.”
“What made you pick Thornwood Park?” Rob asked.
“We have relatives living not far from here, and every summer we’d come and visit. During one of our drives we stopped to have a picnic in the park and decided to walk around. We liked the small-town feel and the friendliness of people. I got tired of commuting into Manhattan every day, and we’re lucky enough to be able to start thinking about retirement. Elana, my wife, suggested we come here and open the store and then Joshua could take over.”
When no one’s shooting out windows or leaving threatening notes, it’s a great place to live.
Progress was all well and good, but Paul missed the true small-town feel of the Thornwood Park of his childhood.
“Well, welcome, and I hope you won’t let this setback make you think negatively of Thornwood Park.” Rob flipped his memo pad closed. “I’m raising my family here and couldn’t think of a better place to live.”
“Not at all. I was robbed four times in my store in New York City in two years. Another reason I’d had enough.”
They left his office and walked around a bit to get a feel for the place. Paul took pictures on his cell phone of the closed-circuit cameras, recalling that they provided little help, as the two intruders who’d come into the store were careful to be covered up and keep their faces out of sight. The last customer departed, and Jeffrey stood conversing with his wife and son. He and Rob walked over to them and introduced themselves.
“Did either of you have any issues with customers in the past month or so?”
Joshua shrugged. “Nothing unusual. Someone complained that their necklace broke, so we fixed it for free. I did have to turn away this guy who wanted to sell me a watch I told him was fake. He insisted it was real and got angry about it.”
Death Comes to Main Street (The Paul Monroe Mysteries Book 3) Page 4
