by Lois Lavrisa
“He’s dead. And he was my uncle.” Veins in Nowak’s neck stood out. She clenched her fists.
Unfortunately, she seemed to have found the key to her mouth.
I turned to Nowak, putting my hand out. “I got this.” I’d noticed this a few times, Nowak’s trigger point when someone talked bad about Ray.
“I’m so sorry,” Amanda stammered.
“Listen, you didn’t know.” I had to get Amanda to continue this conversation and not hold back because she was afraid of offending Nowak. “What did the woman look like? Anything that stood out to you?”
“She had big dark sunglasses on and a scarf over her hair. It was obvious she was uncomfortable being seen with him,” Amanda recalled.
“Was she tall or short? Thin or heavy?” I encouraged her to remember more.
“She was sitting down. Average weight. Average everything, I guess.” Amanda paused. “But you know, there was one thing that stood out. Her nails were painted red, white, and blue.”
Nowak nodded.
“Did you overhear their conversation?” I asked.
“Bits and pieces. He seemed pissed. I heard her say something about moving. Maybe that’s what set him off. I’m not sure.” Amanda tugged at the sleeve of her shirt. “He raised his voice and grabbed her arm. Then I said, ’cause I don’t put up with that bully crap, I said, ‘I’m calling the cops.’ Then he was, like, ‘I am a cop. Leave it alone.’ After that, he chilled a bit, and the lady left.”
“What happened after she left?” I asked.
“He sat there for a minute. Drinking his beer.” Amanda returned to her task, picking up a fork, knife, and spoon followed by a linen napkin. She rolled the silverware inside and then placed it on a pile of completed napkins. She glanced at her phone. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I really have to finish setting up.”
“If you don’t mind, just one more question. Did he have anything to eat?”
“I don’t think so. He might have had some of the pretzel mix we put on the bar.” Amanda pointed toward the bar. “I’m not sure. I didn’t keep an eye on him the whole time.”
“Does the mix have any peanuts in it?”
“Not sure.”
Nowak seemed to take the cue and walked over to the bar.
I thanked Amanda before Nowak and I left.
On the way back down the elevator, Nowak told me, “There were pretzels, sesame sticks, goldfish cheese crackers, and rye chips in the mix. No peanuts.”
“And he didn’t order any other food, so right now I doubt he had contact with the allergen here. Besides, it’s a long shot that he would have a reaction so long after getting exposed.”
“You’re right.” Nowak exited the elevator with me, and we made our way to the hotel lobby. “I know what we need to do next.”
I thought I’d let her tell me.
Nowak wiggled her fingers. “It’s the nails.”
“Go on,” I prompted.
“It’s the only clue, really.”
“Yeah. I know. Not much to go on.”
“There are a lot of nail salons around. And a lot of women getting manicures, so there’s no way to track the mystery woman down through her salon.”
“You’re right. What would you do next?” I wanted her to use logic and deduce the following step.
“We need to visit Councilwoman DeLeon. She knew Ray. Last night, I noticed she had the same nail polish that Amanda described. She very well might be the mystery woman.” The door whooshed open and we made our way outside. “As the police academy taught us, go with the obvious first, before the obscure.”
When she wasn’t emotional, she was clever. I smiled. “You’re pretty smart, rookie.”
She beamed as if I had given her a gold medal.
Chapter 18
“What a surprise seeing both of you,” Patrice greeted us. After closing her office door behind us, she motioned for us to sit and then half-laughed. “Do I need to get a lawyer before I speak to you?”
“No, of course not.” I folded myself into a narrow, padded chair opposite her desk, meanwhile noting Patrice’s patriotic nails.
Nowak sank into the chair next to mine.
“After the way the game ended last night, with your ambush interrogation, I thought I needed to lawyer up before I spoke to you again.” She glared at me. “You do realize you insulted me and probably everyone else there.”
“We didn’t mean to.” I shot Nowak a glance.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to, either. I’ve been very emotional with all that happened,” Nowak explained.
“I understand you’re going through a really tough time. I’m sorry for that. No need for apologies. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re upset. I’ve forgiven the unwarranted allegations.” Patrice folded her hands on her desk and leaned forward.
Great, I thought, just in time for me to accuse you of being Ray’s mistress. I’d have to handle this gently and get around to her relationship with Ray without offending her.
“So, what can I do for you?” Patrice asked.
Nowak leaned forward. “I want to know what you and my uncle were doing at the hotel.”
So much for decorum and tact.
Patrice did everything but look at Nowak. It was obvious the question hit a nerve.
“What Nowak meant to say is that someone who looked like you met Ray at the Bohemian Hotel a few hours before Friday night’s poker tournament. We were just wondering where you were before the game.” I tried to sound nonjudgmental as I shot Nowak the evil eye.
Nowak blushed and fidgeted in her chair.
Apparently, she got my message.
“This is the second time you’ve insulted me. I don’t need to answer you.” Patrice stood.
I got up from my chair, too.
“It could’ve been anyone.” She walked towards the door. “Ray was quite the charmer. I bet he had a lot of lady friends.” She opened the door. “This meeting, or whatever it is, is over. I’ve got a lot to do.”
Nowak followed at my heels.
Patrice folded her arms. “José, we’ve been friends for a long time. And you’re good at your job. I know that. But what I don’t get is why you’re trying to turn an accidental death into some sort of investigation.”
“There are a lot of loose ends. It’s my job to find answers and tie them up,” I argued.
“And it’s personal to me,” Nowak added.
“I know, and again, I am so very sorry about what happened to your uncle. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. You have my deepest sympathy.” Patrice brushed at her hair. “By the way, you’ll be hearing about this sooner or later, so I might as well tell you now. I’m leaving office at the end of the month and moving to Atlanta.”
Surprised, I asked, “Are you staying in government?”
“No. I’m done with that.” Patrice sighed. “I received a job offer in the private sector I couldn’t refuse.”
“Congratulations.” I remembered Amanda saying that Ray’s temper had flared after the mystery lady had said she was moving.
“How angry was my uncle when you told him?” Nowak asked, not beating around the bush.
It was apparent that Nowak was stubborn, letting her emotions about her uncle overtake her thinking.
“What Nowak is saying is that, right now, all the facts point to you as the mystery woman who met Ray at the Bohemian.”
Patrice’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide.
“C’mon, we’re friends. You can level with me,” I urged.
“I…um…well…” She bit her lip. “It’s complicated.”
“Try me,” I persisted.
“Ray and I had a relationship.” Patrice’s voice lowered almost to a whisper.
“No kidding.” Nowak rolled her eyes.
I looked at Nowak and mouthed, “Shut up.”
“I know the hypocrisy, committing adultery while my campaign slogan was ‘always doing what’s right.’” Patrice hung her he
ad. “You don’t need to admonish me any more than I already have. I put my marriage, career, and—well, everything on the line. Ray was charming. I was foolish and weak. But—” Patrice looked away.
“You had an affair,” I guessed.
“Yes.” She stopped. “But you have to understand that I wanted out of it. I met him at the Bohemian before the tournament, and I told him I was resigning from office. I also told him I’d come clean to my husband. That there was nothing left to hold over me. But Ray didn’t want to hear any of that.” She shook her head. “He was so angry at me. He grabbed my arm and told me I could never get out. I owed him.”
“Owed him?” I leaned against the door.
“After our relationship started, he began to blackmail me. He said that he would expose me if I didn’t do favors for him.”
“You were his pawn in City Hall, weren’t you? You pushed his promotion through over mine, didn’t you?” I felt anger boil in my blood. It should have been my decision if I accepted or rejected the promotion. It had been mine to make, not hers.
“I’m so sorry, José.” Patrice looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears. “I felt like I had no choice; I was so tangled up in the deception. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Is that how I got on the bomb squad?” Nowak asked.
Patrice slowly nodded.
“There were other cops more qualified than me. All this time, I wondered why I got the assignment.” Nowak’s shoulders slumped. “I was hoping it was because I deserved it.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” I felt sorry for the kid. “I’ll make you great. By the end of training, you’ll have earned your spot on the team just like anyone else.”
Nowak half smiled at me.
I turned back to Patrice. “And I’m paying for your favors, too, because I didn’t make lieutenant and get the raise that went with it.” My voice rose as I continued. “How many times have you screwed people? Messed up their career, like mine?” My jaw compressed.
“I’m so sorry.” A tear trickled down Patrice’s’ cheek, and she wiped it away.
“Well, that won’t change what you did to me.” I glared at her while my neck muscles tensed up. “You, of all people. You were supposed to be my friend.”
“You were my friend. I messed up. I get that you’re pissed, and you have every right to be.”
“That’s the understatement of the day.” I looked away from her.
“José, if I could go back and change everything, trust me, I would,” Patrice said in a low, soft tone. “My marriage is over, and there’s no changing that.”
“Karma sucks.” As soon as I said it, I regretted it, knowing how snarky it sounded.
“I deserved that, José. I cost you your promotion. Not only that, I betrayed my marriage vows. I lowered my values and ethics on so many levels. That’s why I told Ray that I had to leave Savannah, start fresh. That I didn’t care what he did to me. I was done doing his bidding.”
“The night he died, you grabbed his phone to wipe away any trace of your relationship,” I realized. “Covering your ass.”
“You’re right.” Lowering her gaze, Patrice put a hand on my arm. “But I had nothing at all to do with his death. Zero. You have to believe me. I might be an adulterer, but I’m not a murderer. Trust me.”
“Trust a politician. Do you even hear yourself?” I twisted away from her touch. “Worried about appearances. Once a politician, always a politician.”
“You’re mad. I get that. You should be. You hate me now, and I don’t blame you. I totally messed up. One day, I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. But that’s up to you. I can’t change anything in the past.” Patrice glanced toward Nowak. “I’m so sorry about what happened to your uncle. I really am.”
“Me too.” Nowak’s eyes welled up as she turned away from Patrice.
“Now that it’s over, and I’m leaving, I don’t see the point in letting my indiscretion come out,” Patrice reasoned. “I’d like to leave my reputation intact.”
“You don’t deserve that. You made your bed; you have to lie in it, whether it’s here or in Atlanta.” I grimaced. “But let me be perfectly clear, our friendship is over.”
“I know,” Patrice murmured.
I still needed to find out how Ray had gotten exposed to peanuts. “There’s one more thing I need to know. Did Ray tell you where he was going once he left the Bohemian?”
“Why do you want to know?” Patrice frowned.
“Hey, you just admitted you cost him his promotion. The least you can do is answer his question.” Nowak puffed her chest out. “He’s trying to figure out how my uncle got exposed to peanuts, that’s all.”
“Forgive me. You’re right.” Patrice sighed. “And no, he didn’t tell me.”
Chapter 19
“Well, that meeting was weird and not at all useful in figuring out what happened to my uncle.” Nowak and I walked along River Street. “Let’s grab some lunch now. I’m starved.”
I glanced at the few dozen stands set up along the river. Some had white canopied tops protecting them from the glaring sun. Their occupants peddled food and local souvenirs while a band played country music. Throngs of people milled about the area. River Street seemed to have some sort of festival going on almost every weekend. A group of guys walked by. I turned my head and checked out the tall, dark-haired one before quickly looking back.
“Hey, what was that about?” Nowak asked.
“What?”
“Were you checking that guy out?” Nowak shrugged. “I mean, I’ve noticed you do that before. I don’t give a damn and all, and it’s really none of my business, but I’m just connecting dots, being observant like we’re trained to be in the academy. If you’re gay, it’s no biggie. Really.”
I averted my eyes.
Maybe Bezu, Annie Mae, and Cat were right. Maybe I should simply be honest about who I was. It was apparent I couldn’t control my reaction when I saw a handsome guy. I thought I’d been doing such a great job of concealing my attraction to men. Maybe I’d have to work harder to hide my inclination.
“There wouldn’t be anything wrong with it, you know. Not in this day and age. I’m just saying. It’s none of my business, but if you are, you don’t have to hide it from me.” Nowak hesitated. “But I can tell you don’t want to talk about it, so I’ll stop now.”
She was right that being gay in general society wasn’t as big of a deal now as it once had been. But things were different in the police world. There were a bunch of Neanderthal cops on the force. I changed the subject. “We’re no closer to finding out how Ray came in contact with the allergen.”
“No kidding.”
“Maybe after we eat, we could check Ray’s car. See if there’s anything in there that might have been contaminated. It’s a long shot, but it’s all we’ve got.”
“I’ve got his spare set of car keys,” Nowak offered.
“Good.”
She inhaled loudly. “Can lunch wait a minute?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Don’t you smell that? Dessert first.” Nowak pulled out her wallet. “Sweet baked wonderfulness. Funnel cakes. My treat.”
A loud crack pierced the quiet from somewhere to my left. The noise of the bullet whizzed past my ear.
“Get down!” I screamed as I tackled Nowak to the ground. I unholstered my gun, scanning the area as I placed myself between her and the shooter. “Are you okay?”
“Twisted a bit.” Nowak held her ankle. “But, yeah. I’m good.”
“Everyone! Take cover!” I yelled as loudly as I could. There were hundreds of people in the line of fire, and no way to tell who the target was. Grabbing Nowak’s wrist, I dragged her toward a short brick wall enclosing a large flowerbed.
Two more shots rang out as we ran, bits of cement dust and debris exploding from the sidewalk in front of us where the bullets impacted. They seemed to follow us. Shoving Nowak down behind the wall, I crouched low and searched for t
he shooter. With the crowd in a frenzy to get to safety, it didn’t take long for me to pinpoint the likely suspect.
Someone in a dark hoodie was moving too slowly to be in the same fear for his life as an innocent bystander. He shoved what looked like a pistol into his pocket.
“I’ve got eyes on the shooter. You okay?” I whispered, never taking my eyes off the suspect in the hoodie.
“Go. I’ll call backup and secure the area,” Nowak assured me.
I ran in the direction of the shooter, who kept his head down and face out of sight. My approach obviously caught his attention, though, as he immediately took off in a sprint.
I gave chase but almost tripped over a group of girl scouts spilling out of a souvenir shop.
“That was so cool! I didn’t know they were filming a movie today,” a girl exclaimed, beaming.
An adult in the group remarked, “I hope they do that again, so we can take pictures.”
I weaved around the group, yelling at them, “This isn’t a movie. Take cover now!”
As I ran along the cobblestone streets, dodging cars and pedestrians, I kept a visual on the shooter, who was about a hundred feet ahead of me. As usual, River Street was packed, but most of the tourists and locals had already scattered.
The muscles in my legs burned from exertion, but I ignored the pain. I was catching up with the guy and would have him within reach soon. As though hearing my thoughts, the shooter accelerated and then ducked into an alley.
I followed him and rounded the corner of Factors Walk, the back side of the buildings that face River Street. He dodged a car and then scrambled away. As I followed him, the smell from the alley dumpsters rotting in the heat made me gag and my eyes water.
The shooter raced up the steep brick steps leading to Bay Street.
Adrenaline pumped through me as I raced up the stairs, two at a time. He had on faded, ripped baggy jeans, blue-and-yellow gym shoes, and a dark gray hoodie that covered his head. Between five ten and six feet and on the average side regarding build. I caught a glimpse of his face and saw he wore what looked like a wrestling mask.
