by Keene, Susan
He turned out the desk lamp. “I can see where you would be protective. We can take it to the house and put it in the garage where it will be safe from vandals.”
I put both hands on my hips and cocked my head to one side. “You’re picking on my car.”
“Never!”
CHAPTER 10
I followed Ryan to his place. It was massive. I guessed it at twenty-thousand square feet. To live in a place that big would unnerve me. I hadn’t been there since college, not counting the other day when I cowered in the garage.
It surprised me when I walked in.
We entered through the kitchen from the garage. It was bigger than my entire apartment, but homey and inviting. He had a small table near the windows and the door to a deck.
A sixty-inch television took up most of the wall to the left, and it looked as if he used the counter for a desk instead of the actual one.
“What are you thinking?”
I got flustered, something I tried never to do. “I was thinking about you, but not the way you think.”
“Really? How do you know what I think?”
I ignored his comment. “Why do you keep this big place? It is pretty obvious you only use a couple of rooms.”
“I can’t sell it. It has been in the family for two hundred years. I might downsize though. I’ve been thinking about opening the main house to the public and making myself an apartment out of the servant’s wing.”
“Wing?”
“Yes, wing. I am shamelessly rich, the one percent of the one percent.”
“I know, but charming.”
“Why, thanks, let’s eat while this stuff is hot.” It was his turn to be flustered. He began opening the little boxes of Chinese take-out. “Do you want to eat this with chop sticks or a fork?”
“Chop sticks.” I said.
“Good.”
“I need to wash up. Amy and I spent some time at a filthy strip bar on the north side, and I couldn’t possibly eat with these hands.”
I held them up like a small child.
“First door on the left.”
I couldn’t believe it when I looked in the mirror--unruly hair, dirty hands, and a rumpled suit, every man’s dream. I did what I could and headed back. I tried never to carry a purse. It usually slowed me down and, if I couldn’t use it for a weapon, what good was it? In my front pocket, I kept some lipstick, usually a neutral shade I thought would go with anything. I had never mastered the girly-girl thing.
“Did you find your man?” he asked.
“Yes.”
I took a few minutes and told him the story. Then we began talking about Lizzy while we polished off cashew chicken, crab Rangoon, tempura veggies, and shrimp fried rice. We both looked at the fortune cookies and laid them down without opening them. Years ago, we made a game of them, each person at the table read the fortune out loud and added the words in bed to the end of it. In college, we got some serious laughs out of it.
Ryan began picking up the containers. “I think there must have been a time and place where Michael, Roomy, Andy, and maybe Lizzy were together and saw something. Maybe they didn’t help when they should have and someone wants to make them pay. Did Michael ever talk about anything like that?”
“No. I wonder if anyone else was involved. I know I was never in a place with any of them where something happened with enough significance to get anyone killed. If Lizzy was involved, why didn’t he kill her like the rest? Why kidnap her?”
“There are lots of questions to be answered. I’ll get the calendars and we can go through them.”
I started to follow him. “Need help?”
“No. You wait here, I‘ll only be a minute. Pour us another glass of wine.”
Actually, nearly ten minutes passed before he came back. When he returned, he held a large box of National Geographic calendars under his right arm. The one on top had 1992 printed across a picture of a rhino with its ivory tusk in the hand of a poacher. Ryan said the one on the bottom was 2016. He sat the box on the desk under the window and stopped to smile at me. “I can imagine you think this is weird. Can I take a moment to explain?”
I began putting the calendars in order beginning with the oldest. “By all means.”
“I never felt like I belonged until I met the eight of you. I felt I found the brothers and sisters I never had. This place is big, cold, and impersonal.” He held out his arms and turned in a large circle to emphasize his point. “Although my mother and father loved me, they were formal people. We dressed for dinner, talked about opera, artists they admired, and literature. None of the music we discussed ended up on rock radio. No one played catch with me, baked cookies, or taught me how to fish.” He turned around and smiled at me. “I am not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me. I was trying to impress upon you why the eight of you are so important to me. I did my best to keep the nine of us together. Money has never been an object, but I have never had the idea anyone of you were my friend for the money.”
“I don’t think anyone is your friend for money. We all love you.”
Why did that make me blush?
“I began keeping track of all of you like I would my family. I helped with down payments on houses, private schools for kids who weren’t thriving, and on and on. So when someone starts killing my family, I get mad.”
I couldn’t help it. I put my hand on his and squeezed ever so gently. I stood up, we hugged for a long time, and both began to cry. We had held it back all day and when it came, it stayed and stayed.
Once we regained our composure, we began going through the calendars before us. A ski trip to Aspen, but Lizzy didn’t go, a shopping trip to New York, without Michael. There was a fishing trip to Alaska without Andy. We got nowhere. Could it have been all the way back at the beginning when we all were kids and went to the South of France for no other reason than to sun ourselves and drink beer?
If so, it meant more of us could be involved.
“I don’t remember anything happening in France. No stories about maidens in distress or fights. Nothing,” he said.
“I don’t either. Tomorrow, after the interviews with Roger, we all need to go somewhere to talk. Maybe one of the others remembers something.” Though I doubted it. “I still want to see the tapes from the gallery.”
“We’ll see them in the morning.” He looked at his watch. “Did you know it’s three? We have had an exhausting day. I’ll drive you home.”
“No need for that. I can get in my car here and you have guards at the apartment. What could go wrong?”
“I can’t think of anything, but I’m not willing to take the chance. I’ll take you home and then I can sleep soundly knowing you are okay.”
“What about you? Aren’t you afraid?”
“I’ve lived with the threat of harm all my life. The chance someone might kidnap me loomed over everything I did. It was my parent’s worst nightmare. I had a bodyguard at age five. You guys are the closest thing I’ve had to normal all my life.”
“You’re a wonderful man, Ryan, and we are all lucky to have you.”
He had been moving closer to me the entire time we talked. He was a breath away now, leaned down, and kissed me lightly on the lips. When I didn’t move away, his kiss deepened, and I returned it, but I broke the spell, put my hand on his chest, and pushed him away.
“It isn’t you. You know that, don’t you?”
“How many times have I heard that? “ He slammed his hand on the table and gave me a look that said he was sorry he had done it. “Michael is never coming back, and I loved him as much as you did, just in a different way. It would be easier if it were me. I could handle that. I could change or we could talk about it. To fight the memory of a dead man is insurmountable, but I keep trying because I think you’re worth it. I’ve always loved you, Kate. I loved you enough to be happy when you fell in love with Michael. I loved you enough to help you get over him. I don’t know how much more I have in me.”
I h
ad nothing to say. I was stunned, embarrassed, sad, confused, honored, and tired.
CHAPTER 11
I tried to think about what Ryan had said. It would be easy to fall in love with him. He was right. Michael would never be back. I knew it, but right this instant, the thought crushed me. One day, I would move on, but now, how could I be sure?
Whenever I thought of things I didn’t want to deal with I began repeating my mantra until it was out of my thoughts. “I am blessed to have my life. It is wonderful as it is.” Tonight it did very little to erase Ryan’s kiss, and the warmth of his body; Lizzy, and the fear she must be experiencing; and my dear friend Andy, lying in the funeral home.
After a hot shower and a cup of warm tea, I fell into bed and a fitful sleep. I woke four hours later to my cell phone ringing. It was a short night. The caller ID read Amy Perkin.
“Hi, Amy.”
“Hey there. I think I’ll call in sick today.”
“I’m sorry, what’s wrong?”
“You two don’t need me. Ryan seems to be doing a fine job on the investigation.” Her voice sounded little and uncertain.
“Honey, this is our business. If Ryan’s family wasn’t involved, he wouldn’t be either. We have at least six people on the answering machine who need us. Please don’t get your feelings hurt.”
“Am I being a baby?”
“Yes, but we’re all entitled once in a while. I’ll see you at the office in an hour. I’ll bring breakfast.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. It’s our agency, and Ryan will be out of the way as soon as we solve this. Is Jake still in town?”
“No. He played last night for Molina and went back to Springfield early this morning to catch the team before they head to Tulsa to play the Drillers. Kate, don’t get me wrong, I love Ryan. I just don’t love him as part of our crime-solving, people-finding business.”
“Copy that. He’ll be around for a while though. He needs to feel like he’s helping find the killer of his friends. That okay with you?”
“Sure, I don’t really have an issue with Ryan.” She sighed. “Jake and I had words last night about me not wanting to go to Springfield on the days he’s in town with the team. You and I know, I’m not much of a baseball fan. Give me a good old-fashioned runaway case any day, and it’ll hold my interest, but a pitching duel is boring to me.”
“Okay. Don’t worry about it. We’re just adrenaline junkies of a different kind. See you in an hour.”
We hung up. Goodbyes weren’t necessary.
When Amy and I opened the office, we divided the workload. Amy had her PI license. She did the office work and handled the new clients. I led the investigations. Everything else, we did together. Her presence and kooky attire made the days bearable. I needed Amy, now more than ever.
I drove out of my way to the Missouri Bakery on the Hill to pick up a caramel stolen, drove through Starbucks, and ordered two skinny lattes, then headed for the office. Amy certainly didn’t need anything skinny, nor did I, but like all women, we thought we did. It looked like a parade driving to the office with two cars full of Ryan’s men following. Another car with two men in it sat outside the office when I arrived.
Ryan sat in his truck out front, engrossed in a deep conversation on his cell phone. I walked past him undetected and headed for the office door.
Amy was busy answering questions on the office phone.
I set the gooey stolen and coffee in front of her and plopped into the nearest chair to listen.
The conversation went on for a good fifteen minutes. Seemed someone thought his wife cheated on him every Tuesday. He wanted solid proof before he filed for divorce, in hopes of getting custody of his children. Those cases had a tendency to get nasty. I didn’t like them, but they paid well and kept me and Amy in the black.
Ryan came in, looking flushed, tired, and worried. He had a coffee mug in one hand and a notepad in the other. He sat in a chair next to me, facing Amy.
“Well, ladies, hope your morning’s going well.” His voice matched his demeanor.
I glanced up. “What’s up?”
“There were three times Andy, Michael, Roomy, and Lizzy were together for any length of time. Once in France, we were all there. Then again, in Aspen in 2004. We all went skiing, but our arrival times varied. The four of them were in the cabin a day or two before Tim arrived. The third time was 2009 when Andy bought out a veterinarian clinic in Chicago. Andy and I drove up. Lizzy had a showing there so she dropped by to help. Roomy drove down from Indianapolis, where he had been visiting his mother, to give a hand loading the truck, and Michael took a couple of vacation days to help drive it back and unload.” He seemed relieved to have some kind of information.
“I guess the next thing is to check with the others and see if anyone remembers anything about the trips.”
“We can do that after the meeting at Central. Until then, I thought we could go over to the gallery and watch the tapes. Try to find out who Spencer is.” He stood up, but I didn’t follow suit.
“Amy and I have a couple of cases we need to get started on. I’ll meet you at Central at eleven-thirty and we can take it from there. If you get a last name on Spencer or recognize him, give me a call.”
“Okay. See you then.”
He left without an argument.
Amy and I went through the notes she had made and put them in order of importance. We started with a Mr. Woo.
Mr. Woo had an import-export business in a warehouse on the East side of the Mississippi near Granite City. It was not one of my favorite places. Until they finally built a couple of overpasses, you spent most of your time waiting for trains. Bad for us, but a good place to have a shipping business. We made an appointment with Mr. Woo for Friday. Today was Tuesday.
Next came Leonard Wright, the man Amy was talking to when I arrived. We would meet at the Sunset Motel at two-thirty this afternoon. Seemed his wife’s indiscretions took place like clockwork.
The others we lined up for Thursday, Monday, and next Tuesday. I usually loved it when we were busy. Today, it overwhelmed me. By the time, we had returned all of the phone calls and appointments were set, it was time for me to meet Ryan and the rest of our group at Central.
Amy stayed behind to do background checks on our new clients, something we did routinely. Last thing I wanted to do was end up in a lonely office with some hardened criminal who had a six-page rap sheet. This didn’t completely rule out the scenario, but it helped.
Ryan, Sarah Delaney, Danny Probst, and Tim Jenkins were already in Roger’s office when I got there. There were somber hugs and little conversation. Andy’s funeral was tomorrow at one, and we needed to move this along. We truly loved one another. We had gone through the deaths of parents, weddings, divorces, births, addictions, and all the other human conditions and had come out on the other end, stronger for it.
Roger started. “As you know, Andrew James was murdered two nights ago. We have no suspects and no leads. However, there is one clue that keeps reappearing at each crime scene. By crime scenes, I mean the deaths of Michael Nash, Roomy Martin, and Andrew James.”
There were audible gasps in the room. I didn’t think they knew Roomy was murdered or that the three could be connected.
“At each scene, we have found the same note,” Roger continued. “It reads, He who sees evil and walks away becomes the victim of the evil he ignored. Does it ring a bell with anyone?”
Ryan and I didn’t say anything when he left out the detail about the note being a fortune from a Chinese cookie. It was always good to hold back some information.
A murmur went through the room.
When I looked at Ryan, he appeared to be looking intently at each of our friends in turn. I did the same. All I saw was shock and sadness. I made a mental note to ask Ryan later what he noticed.
Roger cleared his throat. “We have you all here together because we don’t know if the disappearance of Lizzy Smith is connected to th
e killings.”
They all began talking at once. Their voices became a loud crescendo that flowed through the room like a tidal wave. Everyone had a question. Everyone had the same question. They didn’t know Lizzy Smith was missing. We hadn’t told them.
“What is going on? Am I next?”
The sentiment came from each of them. They didn’t all use the same words, but I could smell the fear in the room.
Of course, Roger couldn’t know. He wanted them to think about anytime they were with the other four and if any unusual event had occurred. Did they walk up on a mugging, or drive away from an accident. He said they should be careful and drop by his office tomorrow for a personal interview. He wanted any memories they thought of by then, written down in their own handwriting. He dismissed us.
Ryan got everyone together at the door. We said we would meet at five at his house. At that time, we would chat about what we knew singularly and collectively. He would have dinner ready. We all hugged and shed a few more tears for our dead friends before we went our separate ways with our private thoughts.
I checked in with Amy. She said things were progressing well with the background checks. On a whim, I asked her to run a check on the rest of our group. If she thought it was an odd request, she didn’t say.
All my years as an investigator had led to one persistent fact. No one really knows anyone.
Ryan and I drove over to the gallery on the Landing and spent some time reviewing the tapes of the meeting between Spencer and Lizzy. Whomever this mysterious man was, one thing was for sure, he knew how to keep his face out of the line of the camera. A couple of things were obvious. Lizzy knew the man. He had a wig on, wore baggy clothes so it was difficult to judge his size, and he was left handed. Not much to go on.
On the way back to the office, I took the tape to Roger for him to review. With some of the sophisticated equipment the police had, he might be able to find out more than we did. Ryan headed to one of his restaurants to pick up food for dinner. I hoped to grab a shower before we all met again.
