by Claire Booth
Sheila explained what was going on. He perked up right away and she could hear a computer keyboard clicking.
‘Yes. Dispatch just took a call. Pissed off woman. 2005 Chevy. Lonnie Timmons.’ His smile came through the phone line. ‘I’ll have somebody take a phone report ASAP and email it to you. You say you have eyes on him?’
‘He’ll be in handcuffs sixty seconds after I get that paperwork,’ she said. ‘And I plan on taking a very long time to process him. I need to sweat him on my homicide case.’
There was more typing on the Des Moines end of the line.
‘How about a probation hold?’ the watch commander said. ‘He’s got a piss-ant shoplifting conviction here, but it means he’s on probation. Any new arrest would—’
‘Violate that, and let me hold him a lot longer,’ Sheila finished. ‘You’ve made my day.’
‘Mine, too,’ he said. ‘I’ll send you all the paperwork.’
She thanked him and ended the call. Then she thought things through for a minute before calling Pimental back. Lonnie Timmons was a possible killer so backup would be a wise move, regardless of which deputy was making the arrest. It was an especially smart decision with Ted, who still wasn’t completely steady on his feet. Sheila sighed. For that very reason, sending reinforcements would look like she didn’t have confidence in him, which was the last thing she wanted. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in frustration. Managing people was a pain in the ass. Her phone chimed with the email notification from Des Moines. She took a deep breath and dialed Pimental.
‘We’ve got more than we even thought we would.’ She explained what Des Moines told her. He let out a whoop.
‘I’m real close,’ she continued. ‘I’ll be there in twenty.’
Silence.
‘I just want to see his face when you put the cuffs on him,’ she said.
Now she heard a chuckle. ‘All right,’ Pimental said. ‘I’ll wait.’
Sheila started her cruiser and sped toward the Po-dump. Technically it was called the Po-dunk Motel, and it had twelve rooms that had all seen illegal activity at one time or another. Its revised name had been bestowed by Hank when she took him on his introductory tour of county hot spots. That had been the first time she’d thought that maybe they actually would get along OK.
She made it down there in fifteen minutes and roused the manager to get the set of ancient master keys. Then she stood plenty out of the way as Pimental pounded on the door, trying to angle herself so it wasn’t obvious she’d drawn her service weapon. Pimental pounded again.
‘I ain’t coming out. You got nothing on me,’ Lonnie screamed from inside the room.
‘You’re wanted for car theft,’ Pimental yelled. ‘You come on out, or we’re coming on in. And you don’t want that, pal.’
There was a lot of swearing and some crashing glass. Pimental gestured for the keys. Sheila’s stomach churned. She didn’t want him to be first in. The last time he was first, he’d almost died. Pimental signaled more forcefully. The look on his face made it plain that he knew what she was thinking. She held up her hand in a wait-a-sec motion, exchanged her Glock for the Remington shotgun in her car, and then tossed Pimental the keys.
‘Last warning, Lonnie,’ Pimental hollered as he twisted the key in the lock.
The room’s window exploded and glass rained down on the pavement. Pimental leapt to the side and Sheila raced forward along the row of rooms until she was pressed up against the wall on the opposite side of the window from Pimental. He had his gun in one hand and the keys in the other. She shook her head. They needed more people. No deputy was going to get injured on her watch. Pimental shot her a disappointed frown. She shook her head again and radioed for backup. Then flinched as something came flying out of the window. A clock radio hit the pavement and broke into a hundred pieces. Then came a crappy particle board dresser drawer that split apart on impact. Another followed, and then a chair. Pimental rolled his eyes.
‘We don’t know if he has a gun,’ Sheila mouthed.
Pimental pointed at the room remnants and then his Glock and then the window. Sheila got his meaning loud and clear. If he had a gun, he’d be using it instead of furniture. She gave him a glare that was interrupted by a pillow sailing in between them as it went through the broken window. Another one followed seconds later. Pimental was starting to laugh. The manager was screeching about the room deposit from the far side of the motel. Sirens were becoming audible down Highway F. They all needed to shut up because she was trying to hear something. She inched closer and heard grunting and then a scraping sound. She chanced a quick look and saw the TV moving closer to the window. She moved to a full-on angle and saw that Lonnie had both hands full wrestling with the flat screen.
‘Now,’ she shouted, and moved directly in front of the window with her shotgun raised. Pimental kicked at the door and broke through the knob and the flimsy interior chain. The TV froze.
‘You got two guns on you, Lonnie.’ Sheila had to shout to be heard over the god-awful din. ‘You throw that TV at us, and things are gonna end very bad for you.’
Pimental moved closer until he was level with Timmons and had a clear shot at the man instead of the TV. The mullet swung back and forth as Lonnie looked from deputy to deputy.
‘Put it down slow,’ Pimental said.
Timmons’s face twisted and his shoulders slumped. He let go of the TV and it fell the four feet to the floor with a sharp crack. Sheila steadied her Remington.
‘This is aimed straight at your fool chest,’ she said. ‘So you’re going to let Deputy Pimental handcuff you. Or I’m going to get to practice my center-mass target shooting. You got it?’
The mullet nodded. Pimental holstered his gun and told Timmons to put his hands on his head. Sheila aimed her shotgun downward once Ted moved closer to Timmons. He wasn’t gentle as he pulled each arm down and cuffed the idiot behind his back. Then he hauled Timmons out the door and walked him over the smashed window glass to where she stood.
‘He’s all yours,’ she said. ‘Book him on every charge you can think of.’
Pimental shifted his weight off his bad leg and smiled.
‘With pleasure.’
SEVENTEEN
They had just started the coffee pot when Hank walked in the door of the disappointingly pedestrian Castle offices. No turrets or drawbridges anywhere. He’d expected more of Lew. There was just a little sitting area and then a few desks separated by a low wall. There were two doors in the back that Fin had told him were the offices for Lew and Marco. In between the two was one more desk. The surface was cluttered with the standard office equipment and a few picture frames, but the seat was empty.
He shifted a small bouquet of flowers from hand to hand and waited for someone to notice him. Finally, a woman with short red hair at the nearest desk glanced up.
‘Oh, goodness. I’m sorry – I didn’t see you walk in. Can I help you?’
He smiled. ‘I’m here to see Tina Hardy.’
He now had not only the redhead’s attention, but everybody else’s as well. There was a younger guy with floppy college hair wearing a tie and a woman who looked to be in her late fifties with reading glasses perched on top of her teased hairdo. That must be Human Resources Doreen. Excellent.
‘Tina isn’t here,’ the redhead said slowly.
‘Oh.’ Hank tried to look disappointed. ‘I’m sorry. I thought she said she would be back today. I must’ve gotten my dates mixed up.’
Doreen stood up. ‘She said she would be back? Really? We haven’t heard anything.’
‘We’ve been starting to get worried, actually,’ the redhead said. ‘She’s been gone so long.’
They all stared at him.
‘I haven’t heard from her lately, either,’ Hank said. ‘She told me a date a while back, and I must’ve written it down wrong. I, um, I wanted to welcome her back. We, um …’
He held up the flowers and gave what he hoped was a sheepish smile. All thr
ee of them broke into grins and Doreen actually clapped.
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘How wonderful. After that horrible husband. Where did you two meet?’
That’s what Hank was afraid of. Specific questions.
‘Don’t ask him that,’ the guy said.
Hank sighed in relief. Maybe this guy assumed they’d used a dating app and current etiquette dictated that you didn’t admit to that? He had no idea what dating was like nowadays, thank God. So he needed to turn the conversation away from that subject area quickly.
‘About her ex-husband – he hasn’t come around, has he?’ He took a concerned step closer to the low dividing wall. ‘Because he, um …’
He trailed off, hoping someone would take the bait. Doreen didn’t fail him.
‘Has a temper? Oh, yeah. She’s told us. He did come here a couple of times right after he moved out of the house. But he hasn’t been back since.’
‘Oh, good,’ Hank said. He looked around. ‘She sure does like working here.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ the redhead said. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to tell with her. That’s why we were so glad that she decided to take that vacation. She was all stressed out.’
Hank voiced vague agreement and then glanced at Doreen, who suddenly had a perturbed expression.
‘Oh, honey, don’t mind me,’ she said when she realized he was looking at her. ‘I just wish she’d filed the right paperwork with me. Her going away without it just made my job harder, but never you mind. It’s Lew’s fault, really. He should’ve sent her to me real quick before, instead of telling me after. It’s murder on the payroll coding.’
Hank hid his delight. Lew was coming up in the conversation, and he hadn’t even had to be the one to do it.
‘Bosses, right?’ he said. ‘My department head just does whatever he wants. He forgets to track things or schedule people. And don’t even start on budgeting. He’s got no clue.’
‘That’s why you need an accounting department,’ the young guy said with a grin.
‘Will you stop with your “business school” stuff?’ The redhead pivoted in her office chair and jabbed air quote marks at the kid.
‘I didn’t say anything about business school, but since you brought it up – go Tigers.’ He made a face at the redhead. ‘And, I gotta say, you all should’ve had somebody who knows accounting a long time before me.’
Hank was pretty sure he heard the redhead mutter something about being ‘full of himself’ as she turned to Business School.
‘We move plenty of inventory, so there’s nothing to worry about,’ she said. ‘So stop criticizing.’
Hank hadn’t taken his eyes off Business School. A look flashed across his face as she spoke – skeptical and secretive at the same time. The kid’s eyes flicked quickly toward the window and then back. Interesting.
‘You both need to go back into your corners. Lord, cats and dogs get along better,’ Doreen said. She returned her attention to Hank. ‘When you see Tina, would you tell her to call me?’
‘Of course,’ he said and then gestured toward her desk. ‘Say, could I leave her a little note? Just, you know, so she’s got something cheerful to greet her on her first morning back.’
Doreen thought that was a great idea and waved him right through. She even gave him an envelope ‘for privacy’. He jotted down a generic, unsigned hello, left it sealed on her desk, and walked out of the office with a smile on his face and Tina’s day planner in his pocket.
‘So you want to tell me why you thought it’d be a good idea to trash that motel room last night?’
Lonnie Timmons sat slouched in the hard plastic chair, his ankle chained to the floor of the interview room. His hands were bandaged – the little snowflake had scraped his poor fingers while heaving Po-dump motel property through broken glass. Sheila placed her pen on her notepad and waited. Eventually, he shrugged.
‘I didn’t like the décor.’
‘That’s a real big word for you. I got another one – reimbursement. You’re going to owe the motel for everything you ruined.’
He rolled his eyes.
‘But we both know that’s the least of your worries.’
He just yawned and stared at her. This wasn’t his first rodeo. She asked where he’d been in the days before Clyde was found dead. He launched into a long-winded, and frankly ridiculous, tale that involved meeting people, several Uber rides, a hangover, and buying bananas. She sighed.
‘Let’s talk about when you were down here a month ago to see your dad.’
He stiffened, just a little.
‘You busted up some furniture. Hmm, that seems to be a thing with you, doesn’t it? What you got against coffee tables?’
He let out a splutter of laughter before he could stop himself.
‘And what,’ she continued softly, ‘did you have against your dad?’
Now every inch of him, from the mullet to the soft-soled jail shoes, tensed up.
‘You told me that the last time you talked to him was six months ago. That was a lie. You saw him a month ago.’
His look said, Yeah, so? She decided to go out on a limb.
‘You’re really hurting for money. And he wouldn’t give you any. Who do you owe, Lonnie? Because it’s one thing to be late on the rent. But you’re not going to drive six hours and beg a man you don’t like, just ’cause you got overdue bills. You’re going to do that ’cause you got some serious, break-your-kneecaps debt. So who do you owe?’
‘I’m not telling you shit, lady.’
Now she was the one who shrugged. Then she jotted a few things in her notebook and examined her pen for a long moment.
‘I talked with quite a few of your dad’s friends yesterday,’ she finally said. ‘They’re devastated that he’s dead. They were close, you know. All said what a great guy he was. Good sense of humor. Kind and thoughtful.’
Lonnie’s snort was snide and derisive at the same time. ‘Then that means they didn’t know him. He was a dick.’
‘I think they knew him better than you. You don’t see him in Lord knows how long and then you come down last month, vandalize his place and smack him around and—’
‘I didn’t lay a hand on him.’ He hit the table with his fist and then yanked it off into his lap as Sheila raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘I asked him for money, yeah. He said no, so I left. I might’ve kicked at the table on my way out. But I didn’t touch him.’
Nobody had claimed he did, actually. She was just throwing out different kinds of bait, seeing what he would snap at. She kept the questions coming quickly.
‘Why ask him for money if he didn’t like you?’
‘I knew mom and him had retirement money. I figured he couldn’t have used it all up yet.’
‘Why do you need it so bad?’
‘I gotta get square with …’ He stopped and shook his head.
She had to keep pressing. The second she gave him any time to think, he’d lawyer up and that would be the end of it. She tried a different angle.
‘Would this person have killed your dad? The one you owe? Could they have gotten in the house and killed your dad?’
From the astonished look on his face, that clearly hadn’t occurred to Lonnie. Sheila hadn’t considered it, either. Because it was ridiculous. It was far more likely Lonnie killed his old man than some two-bit Des Moines loan shark or bookie or whoever. But when his surprise turned to fear, Sheila started to broaden her thinking. If Lonnie’s astonishment had turned to agreement – if he’d jumped right on her theory – then she’d be even more certain he’d killed Clyde. What better scapegoat than a mysterious moneylender? But that wasn’t what he was doing. Which was very interesting.
Hank was just about back to the BMW when incredibly bad timing pulled into the Castle parking lot. Marco Cortello climbed out of his Infiniti sedan and gave him a hearty hello. Hank scanned the area – no one else was outside, but Lord knew who could be looking out the office windows. And what if he went inside s
aying he just saw Lew’s nephew? That would throw the whole place into high alert. He forced himself to smile.
‘What are you doing here on this blustery morning?’ Marco asked as they shook hands.
Operating under false pretenses. Pilfering personal items. Manipulating people.
‘Oh, nothing much. I just stopped by to see Lew, but he’s not here.’
‘Yeah, I think he has off-site meetings all day.’
‘I couldn’t even leave a message with his assistant.’ If his cover was going to be blown, he might as well try to get some information first. ‘She’s out, I guess?’
Marco nodded and his face turned grave, but in a way that looked more rehearsed than genuine. ‘A family illness. We’re not sure when she’ll be back.’
‘That’s too bad. I’d imagine she’s pretty integral to operations around here.’
Now his face went blank. ‘Yes. I suppose so.’
The wind gusted and leaves skittered across the asphalt. Marco took a step toward the building. Not so fast, buddy. ‘Things sound pretty busy. Lew said you guys are thinking about opening another store?’
Marco nodded. ‘Sales are doing pretty well. And we’ve got another investor coming on board. I’m trying to talk Lew into using some of that money to start selling on the internet. But he keeps refusing.’
Marco’s tone stayed even, but his whole body stiffened and one hand curled into a fist before he stuffed it into the pocket of his immaculately cut wool overcoat.
‘I’ve always wondered about that,’ Hank said. ‘Do you know why?’
Marco half-shrugged, his shoulders still tense. ‘He believes it’s a treasure hunt. And that it can only be done in person at a physical location. We slumped there for a while, and that’s when I started pounding on him to build a website. But the stores have come back strong, especially one we’ve got just off the highway. So I have no grounds to argue with him on that. But I still think we need to sell online. Especially since we’ve nailed down one vendor whose stuff sells like hotcakes.’
Hank phrased his next words carefully. ‘That must be tough, to have two different philosophies about the business. Especially after working together for so long.’
