by Amy Vansant
Charlotte sighed and leaned back against her door. “What is it you want me to do in exchange for this possibly useless, possibly slightly helpful book of magic?”
Stephanie grinned. “It’s super simple. I need you to follow Jason Walsh over the weekend.”
“Who’s Jason Walsh? Another man who figured out you’re a psycho and tried to run? Can I give him a head start?”
Stephanie scowled. “He’s an assistant district attorney.”
“This sounds illegal.”
“It’s not. I’m the good guy this time. He’s cheating to make me lose a case. He’s a spoiled rich kid who thinks laws don’t apply to him.”
“But he works for the government. Your clients are all scumbags.”
“They still deserve a fair trial.”
Charlotte grunted. “I suppose. What do you think he’s doing?”
“He’s meddling. Paying my witnesses to flip sides. I have an important witness who’s going to win this case for me on Monday. I have to reveal I’m using her as a witness on Friday. That gives him the weekend to pay her off and destroy my case. I need a third party—someone he wouldn’t recognize—to keep an eye on him.”
“Why me? There are other detectives.”
“Sure. But why not you?”
“Because you hate me.”
Stephanie pouted. “Aww. Why would you think that? Does it hurt your wittle heart?”
“Spare me. You’re up to something.”
“Yeah, I’m up to hiring you.”
Charlotte sighed. “I dunno...it feels a little like a spider asking a fly to hop into her web.”
“Look, I promise. I need a detective. You’re a detective. And you’re cheap.”
Charlotte squinted. “Watch it.”
“I have something you want. Something I don’t need. It doesn’t get any cheaper than that.”
“I’ll think about it. Expenses?”
“I’ll throw in expenses.”
Charlotte nodded as her gaze fell to the leather bound book.
It would make a great Christmas present for Frank...
“Give me a minute to think about it. I’ll call you.”
Stephanie smiled. “Great. Declan has my number.”
Charlotte felt her cheek twitch. “I have your number.”
“Great.” With the flash of another grin Stephanie slid into her Viper and drove away with a squeal of wheels.
Chapter Nine
Charlotte took the rest of the day to finish her embroidery work and get all the gifts in the mail. She’d called Frank to let him know about Noelle, but Darla had talked him into an impromptu holiday shopping trip and he’d taken the day off. Charlotte guessed he was too cranky to answer his phone.
She finished up a few loose ends the next morning and then crossed the street to borrow Mariska’s car.
I really need to get a car.
Before becoming a private investigator, she’d had little reason to use a car. She worked from home and could walk to the food store. Now, she was having a hard time imagining pedaling around behind the Assistant D.A. on her ten speed.
Mariska never minded her borrowing the Volkswagen, but then, that was when she borrowed it once a week to run an errand. Keeping it day after day for surveillance could be an inconvenience.
Mariska wasn’t home, but Charlotte had a spare key. She looked at her watch and guessed Mariska had gone to the pool. She wouldn’t need the car for a little while.
She drove the VW to the Sheriff’s office, still mulling Stephanie’s offer as she walked in through the front door.
A goldfish swam circles in a bowl on the counter as Linda, the new receptionist, stopped her paper shuffling.
“He’s in,” she said. She knew Charlotte sometimes stopped by to see Frank.
Charlotte smiled and held up a hand. “Thanks. How are you?”
Linda sighed. “Oh you know. Never enough money and never enough time. And my nephew’s gotten the neighbor girl pregnant.”
Charlotte winced. “Yikes. Or congratulations...”
“You said it. I don’t think anyone’s decided which yet.”
Charlotte took another step.
“Of course, the pregnancy takes my mind off the cancer.”
Charlotte stopped. “What’s that?”
“My father. Prostate cancer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Apparently they all get it at his age.”
“So it isn’t anything to worry about?”
She shrugged. “We don’t know yet. With his luck, it’ll probably kill him.”
Charlotte remained frozen in place, afraid if she took another step, Linda’s goldfish might float to the top of his bowl.
“Well...Hope everything works out okay and you have a good Christmas.”
Linda snorted. “Christmas. Don’t even get me started.”
Charlotte scurried down the hall and tapped lightly on Sheriff Frank’s open office door. He looked up.
“What are you doing here, Deputy Morgan?”
Charlotte couldn’t stop a grin from leaping to her lips. “You told me to stop by today to start on the Rudolph case.”
“Oh right. Come in. Shut the door.”
She stepped in and closed his office door behind her.
“You made it past Suzy Sunshine.” Frank jerked a thumb towards the front office.
“She’s in rare form this morning.”
Frank nodded. “By the time I got back here I was about ready to hang myself. This morning she said the sprinkles on the donuts reminded her of all the pills her mother has to take.”
Charlotte chuckled. “I’m afraid I have some more bad news for you.”
“Uh oh. Last time somebody started a conversation like that Darla’d driven the Ford into the pond.”
“Compared to that, I guess my news isn’t that bad. Or it’s worse...depends.”
“Spill it.”
“Kris Rudolph has an ex-wife, Noelle Kringle.”
“Noelle Kringle? You’re kidding. She bring the kids, Jingle and Bells?”
“No kids that I know of.”
“How’d you find this out?”
“She was at Rudolph’s house yesterday. She sold all his furniture to Declan.”
Frank straightened. “Is she still there?”
“No. That’s the bad news. She tore the place apart, called Declan, sold him the stuff she hadn’t destroyed and headed back to Wisconsin.”
“Wisconsin?”
“That’s what she told Declan.”
“Why didn’t he stop her? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He didn’t know she was important to the case. We haven’t told anyone it was a murder yet, remember? And I tried to call you yesterday, but you didn’t answer your phone.”
“Darla.” Frank slapped the tips of his fingers on the edge of his desk. “Dang. I would have really liked to talk to her.” He looked up at Charlotte. “What did you mean about her destroying things?”
“Drawers open, things strewn about...I think she was looking for something.”
“What?”
She shrugged.
Frank dropped his hands into his lap and leaned back so far in his chair Charlotte worried he’d flip it. “She give him any proof she had the right to sell his stuff?”
“Declan said she had a signed will. He’s got a copy of it if you want it.”
“She must have already identified the body. Why didn’t Roger do me the courtesy of letting me know she—”
“Who’s Roger?”
“Coroner. County has the body and they’ve got people looking into things but they’re as dry as we are on this one so far.”
“Still no leads?”
Frank lifted his hands in the air and snapped back to the upright position. “Worse than that. We hardly know a thing about Kristopher himself, let alone who killed him. Turns out that’s not his real name. I doubt it’s Kringle either.”
Charlotte frowned,
recalling Stephanie’s fingerprint book. Could Kristopher be the victim of a revenge killing? Had he been a witness? She’d hoped to keep the book a secret until the holiday, but it seemed they might need it sooner than she’d thought. “I might be able to help you with his identity.”
Frank perked. “Yeah? How so?”
“Stephanie has a book of fingerprints.”
“Stephanie—Declan’s ex-girlfriend?” He swirled his finger against the side of his head to demonstrate he considered the woman one or two eggs short of an omelet.
Charlotte nodded. “That one.”
“What’s a book of fingerprints? And since when are you and Stephanie bosom buddies?”
“Good question. I’m still trying to work out that bit myself. She’s offered me a book containing the fingerprints of all the criminals her mother had stashed in witness protection—here, in Charity.”
“You think Kristopher could have been killed for what he saw or said?”
“Maybe. It might explain why this all seems so odd.”
“Where’s this book?”
“I don’t have it yet. Actually, I was going to give it to you for Christmas.”
Frank clapped his hands together. “Christmas is coming early this year. I need it now.”
“I haven’t done the work she hired me to do yet.”
“In exchange for the book?”
She nodded. “She thinks an assistant district attorney is tampering with her cases. She wants proof. Wants me to follow him for the weekend.”
Frank sighed and rubbed his hand across the top of his head. “Can you get the book early?”
“I can try. Can you get me Kris’s fingerprints? If she won’t get me the whole book maybe she’ll at least let me see if his prints match any of them. Sort of a test run.”
“I can do that. We’ve really only got one or two leads so far but they’re not great.”
“Who?”
“Jimmy the Jeweler called me this morning wanting to know if we found any rings at Kris’s. Seems he lent one to him.”
“If there were rings there, I imagine Noelle has them now.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. We weren’t looking for rings when we did our sweep. I was going to go back this afternoon, but it seems I’m too late.”
“What did he lose? I’ll ask Declan to keep an eye out.”
“A ruby-emerald ring.”
“How Christmassy.”
“That was the idea. It was for the Christmas raffle. Kris was going to put it on display during the parade, but Jimmy says he didn’t see it anywhere, and when he tried to find out why, Kris avoided him.”
“Kris was dead by the end of the day. Does that count as avoiding someone?”
Frank shrugged. “I believe Jimmy believes something wasn’t right.”
Charlotte wandered across the room in thought. “Jimmy’s angry about the missing ring, and the next thing you know, Kristopher is dead? Should we be worried about that?”
Frank scoffed. “Aw, Jimmy didn’t kill anyone over a ring. The ex-wife probably had more reasons to kill him than Jimmy, but I’m going to have to track her down to find out if it’s true.”
“She did show up awfully quickly.”
Frank nodded.
Charlotte sat in the chair across from Frank. “You said one or two leads. You have another?”
“The Mayor.”
“The Mayor?”
“He’s been acting really squirrelly. Haven’t figured it out why yet.”
“How so?”
Frank shrugged. “He’s been asking a lot of questions. Tell you what. Why don’t you go and talk to Jimmy and I’ll talk to the Mayor.”
Charlotte saluted. “Aye, aye, sir.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re my deputy. Not in the navy.”
“What do you guys say?”
“For you? Just Sure, Uncle Frank will do.”
She grinned. “I’ve never called you uncle. You’ve always been Frank.”
“Fine. Solve the crime and you can call me whatever you want.”
“Deal.” She saluted again.
Frank chuckled. “Oh, and here.” He opened a drawer and tossed something at her. Taken off guard, she bobbled the flat item until she’d grasped it. She held it in her palm and smiled.
“My very own badge.”
“Your very own badge. Flash it with pride.”
“Can I wear it?”
“On a tank top? No. Just keep in in your pocketbook in case you need it.”
Charlotte pouted. “Fine. You’re no fun.”
Charlotte danced out of the room, repeatedly pretending to flash the badge. “Deputy Morgan here. I’m Deputy Morgan. That’s Deputy Morgan to you, punk.”
“That’s very unprofessional,” called Frank after her. “Hold on, I need to get you the printout of Kris’s fingerprint.”
Charlotte jigged back into the office and waited while Frank wrestled with his printer. When the ornery machine finished its work, he handed her the printout.
“Here.”
Charlotte assumed an expression she hoped looked James-Bond-debonair. “Thank you. I’m Morgan. Deputy Morgan.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Get out of here, you loon.”
Chapter Ten
Charlotte drove to Jimmy the Jewelers, eager to interview him as her first official job as a deputy. As elated as she was to have her badge, she felt a tickling dread teasing the back of her mind. She sat waiting for a light to change and realized the cause of her unease.
Stephanie.
She hated the idea of working for the bloodthirsty, sneaky wench, but the fingerprint book could be a handy thing to have. She parked near Jimmy’s and looked down at the phone sitting in the passenger seat.
Might as well get this over with.
She reached for her phone and dialed.
Stephanie didn’t bother to say hello.
“You know if we were sister wives, I’d be the original wife and you’d be the young new thing who seems exciting for a while, but it’s always me Declan comes back to in the end.”
Charlotte scowled at her phone and then raised it back to her ear. “Can’t you just answer the phone with hello like a normal person?”
“Consider it my daily observation.”
Here’s an observation for you. You’re a b—
“Decided you needed the fingerprints after all?” asked Stephanie.
Charlotte wanted to throw the phone out the window. Stephanie had known all along she’d come crawling back for the book and she hated proving her right.
“Yes. I’ll follow the D.A. for you.”
“Assistant D.A. Don’t start giving that jerk a raise.”
“Whatever. Do you have an address for him?”
“You’re the detective. It’s not like he invites me to dinner parties.”
“Fine. Can I have the book now?”
“No, you can’t have the book now. In what world does that make sense?”
“In what world does me following this man for a weekend and trusting you to then hand over the book make sense?”
“I’ll give you half.”
Charlotte considered the offer. While half sounded good, if Kristopher Rudolph wasn’t in the half she received, she’d have no way of knowing if he were in the other half. That’s all she really needed to know at the moment. “Tell you what. Right now I really only need one.”
“One fingerprint?”
“Right. A specific one. If it exists.”
“Isn’t half the book better than one print?”
“I’m looking for one particular print. If you give me half, and the one I need isn’t in that half, then I’m stuck.”
“Then you wait a few days.”
“I don’t want to wait a few days.”
Stephanie sighed. “How do you propose we do this? I’m not going to sit here comparing your fingerprint to the book.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll sit in your office and do it.”
Stephanie went silent.
“Hello?” prompted Charlotte.
Stephanie’s voice returned, and Charlotte could hear the she-devil’s amusement the second she began to speak. “Tell you what. Send Declan over with the fingerprint and he can search the book.”
Charlotte closed her eyes. She really never misses a trick.
She resolved to make Stephanie state her reasoning for requesting Declan out loud. Maybe if she heard herself say something so pathetic—
“Why do you want Declan to do it? Are you afraid I’ll memorize them?”
Stephanie laughed. “Right. Because I think you’re a genius.”
“So you just want to be near Declan? Isn’t that kind of...oh I dunno...sad?”
“No. Just another example of how I can make him come to me any time I like.”
Charlotte felt her temper rise and warned herself to keep her mouth shut. If she said what was on her mind, Stephanie would burn the book.
“Want to know what I tease him about when we’re together?” asked Stephanie during the lull.
Charlotte took a deep, calming breath. “Not at all, thanks.”
“His taste in women lately.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Ha. Ooh, got me there. Sizzle burn. I’ll get back to you with a time Declan can swing by. Goodbye.”
She hung up and pulled into a parking spot down the block from Jimmy the Jeweler. She had things to do, but first she thought she’d sit and stew for a minute.
Why Stephanie thought Declan would ever want anything to do with her again, after everything she’d done—
Hm. Good point. What if he refused to go see Stephanie? She really needed the book. She’d be thrown in the awkward position of begging him to spend time with Stephanie.
Probably exactly what she’d wanted.
Someone knocked loudly on the hood of the car and Charlotte jumped, yanked from her thoughts by what felt like a minor heart attack.
She looked out the window and spotted Declan’s uncle Seamus waving at her, an enormous grin on his glistening face. Even his short gray hair appeared soaked with sweat.
She stepped out of her car.
“What are you doing here? You almost scared me to death,” she said.
“Sorry, I saw you sittin’ there and couldn’t help myself.” Seamus pulled a rag from the waistband of his shorts and used it to wipe his face as Charlotte stared at the building in front of them. She knew it as Chuck’s—a dive bar she’d never actually stepped inside before. The place was in the paper every week for some sort of altercation—a fight outside, a fight inside, health department violations... The sign that used to hang over the bar had been pulled down and now leaned against the wall, the shadow of its shape still burned into the frontage.
