I threw my coffee away and jogged to catch up with Larry. “You keep the park clean.”
Larry glanced in my direction as he stabbed another piece of trash, picking up his garbage bag. “Somebody has to do it. I can’t leave it up to these kids.”
The tension in his voice, and the way he said the word “kids” grated down my spine. “You don’t like kids?”
Larry shrugged. “Some kids are fine. Is there anything I can help you with, lady? Because I’ve got work to do.”
“Actually, there is something you can help me with, Mr. Turner.”
Larry quit walking and turn to regard me, giving me his full attention. The fact that I knew his name, when he’d never offered it, was reason enough to be suspicious. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet. Tell me Larry, why are you volunteering at a school if you don’t like kids.”
“How do you know where I work?” He asked.
“Just answer the question.”
His gaze narrowed. “I volunteer at a school so that my niece can attend. My sister can’t afford the tuition, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Do you know any little girls named Petunia?”
Larry’s face hardened. He did know Petunia.
“Why do you want to know?”
“It’s a matter of life and death.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Start talking about Petunia, and tell me everything.”
“Petunia is one of the good kids. She picks up after herself. She’s a nice little girl. Whenever she comes to the park, she comes with a packed lunch and offers to share with strangers.”
“And let me guess, you like to indulge.”
Larry held up his hands and took an unconscious step back. “It’s not like that. I’m not a pedophile. She’s just a good kid. The first time I met her I was sitting on the grass eating my lunch. She came up and sat down next to me and just started talking. She talked about how the chef makes her lunch, how her mother doesn’t eat, and she started telling me about her friends at school. It was strictly innocent. She reminds me of my niece.”
“Who was watching her that day? Or should I say, who wasn’t watching her?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. That was the first time she talked to me.”
“Would you be surprised to find out the Petunia is getting death threats from a stalker obsessed with her mom?”
“Well, yeah. Thinking back to all the times I’ve seen Petunia here, she’s hardly with her mom. Who the hell would hurt a child, especially one as nice as her?”
Larry’s face was growing red with agitation. He looked ready to take his frustration out on the perpetrator, just like me. I had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t my guy. “Have you ever noticed anyone watching her? Or maybe a person that doesn’t belong here?”
“No, I mean, Petunia has pointed out the people I’ve seen her with since. She’s sometimes with a security guy and other times with a short auburn-haired lady that carries a basket full of food.”
“Her chef. Anyone else?”
“Sometimes some guys in suits watch her from the bench but they’re on their phones most the times.”
I sighed and pulled up a picture of both Max and Carter and turned it for Larry to see. “These guys?”
“Yeah, that’s them. I haven’t noticed anyone paying close attention to her that wasn’t already with her.”
I pulled a card out of my pocket and handed it to him. “If you do notice anything, please give me a call. I’m in charge of her security now and someone really is trying to hurt her.”
I’d turned to walk away when Larry grabbed my arm. “Is she going to be all right?”
“Whoever is doing this will have to get through me to get to her. No one is going to hurt Petunia, not if I can help it.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help…”
“Thanks. If I need to ask you anything else, I’ll find you.”
“Lady, I’ll be around. If I’m not working here, I’m at the school, but something tells me you already know that.”
“You’d be right.”
****
I returned to my house and was standing in front of the computer monitors, reading up on the man that Dexter had sent to prison. Paul Kilnery’s arrest record and police file showed the progression from a troubled youth into a man. Paul’s arrest picture looked rough. He had a black eye and a busted lip. His dark scraggly hair hung down over one of his eyes. His scruffy face needed a shave. This guy screamed “I’m guilty.” But I never judged a book by its cover. If Kilnery wasn’t involved, then I was back to square one.
“Gwen, it’s just me. Don’t shoot,” Faith yelled before knocking on my door and just walking in. She slapped my keys in my palm and grabbed hers off the counter. “I didn’t even get out of town before they stopped me.”
Fillpot was better than I gave him credit for.
Faith pointed at the computer screens. “Is that your suspect?”
“He’s a guy the fiancé put away. He’s a member of Hells Bat motorcycle club and just got released from prison for robbery and attempted murder.”
“It’s not him,” Faith said as she headed toward the door.
“How can you be so sure? He checks all the right boxes.”
Faith grinned. “Let me know when you need us to help. Cassie can always scry for the stalker if given something of his to work with, like one of those letters or I can talk to some spirits.”
“You underestimate my ability to find the perpetrator.”
Faith chuckled. “I’m offering you some sisterly help, but it’s going to cost you if you take me up on the offer.”
“What’s it going to cost?” I asked.
“We’ll discuss it later,” she said and shut the door behind her. Within the next two minutes, her truck backfired letting me know she was actually on her way out.
FDG had the best of the best for anything and everything that I could need. I wouldn’t be relying on ghosts or spirits and spiritual guides to give me the answers. I didn’t work that way. Not that I didn’t believe my sisters were talented; I knew first-hand they were. But with something as delicate as Petunia and Amelia’s lives, I wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
I grabbed my gun and stashed it in my ankle holster. Pulling up Kilnery’s address, I walked out the door and slid into my car and drove across town.
I pulled up across the street from Kilnery’s sister house and cursed beneath my breath. Max’s BMW idled across the street.
Max
Chapter 23
Max jumped at the knocking sound on his car window. He hadn’t been expecting anyone to catch him. After he’d clicked the unlock button, she slid inside and closed the door.
The tantalizing scent of strawberries filled the space.
“You’re out of your element, Counselor,” she said as she picked up the extra pair of binoculars sitting on the dash.
“I’m just watching things,” he said with a shrug. He had been in the same spot for the last thirty minutes. He glanced in the rearview mirror and spotted Gwen’s car. “No smoke screen or backfires from your sister’s truck. You really are being covert.”
She rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t have been here long. Have you seen Kilnery?”
“Not yet. There’s not even a motorcycle in the driveway.” Either Paul hadn’t slept in his own bed last night or he’d gotten an early start. Max’s money was on the late night out. Paul Kilnery’s file was full of bar fights and arrests for drunk and disorderly. “We might have better luck finding him passed out at the bar.”
“If he’s not home, then maybe the sister will know where he is,” Gwen said, climbing out of the car. She leaned back in to look at him. “Stay here, Counselor.”
He opened the car door to have it slammed shut again. Gwen had moved around the car and leaned into the window. “You’re a suit. She’ll view you as a threat. She won’t talk to you.”
He raised his brow and opened the door. “
Like to make a wager on that, Gwen?”
She rested her hip against the car. “What do I get if I win?”
“What do you have in mind?” he asked, sliding out of his suit jacket. He unbuttoned the shirt cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.
Her gaze lowered down his body before meeting his eyes again. He couldn’t read her mind, but he had a pretty good idea it was in the gutter. “I’ll have to think about it.”
He shrugged. “Okay, if I win, I want you to take a vacation with me, not because you have to or for work, but because you want to.”
She scrunched her nose and rested her hand on her hip. “I was sure you’d say you wanted to have sex.”
Her bluntness always seemed to catch him off guard. He gestured to Rena Kilnery’s house across the street.
They jogged across the street and walked up the sidewalk to the door. “Somehow, I don’t think your charm is going to work.”
He smiled as he knocked on the door. “You’re proof my charm works just fine, Gwen.”
She outright laughed. “Don’t kid yourself, Max. The only thing I prove is quid pro quo. You had an island, and I needed access.”
“Right, well…”
His words were cut off as the door swung open. A petite woman stood on the other side. Her hair and makeup were perfect, and the apron covering her clothes gave him pause. The bump in her belly caught him by surprise. This woman looked like she was ready to pop. He stepped back and glanced at the house number again.
“Can I help you?” Rena asked. Her slow methodical panting didn’t sound promising.
“I’m Gwen Bennett, and this is Max Pierce. We’re looking for Paul. Is he home?”
Her gaze went from Gwen to Max and back again.
“He’s at work. He promised me he wouldn’t violate the terms of his parole. What did he do?” She opened the door and gestured for them to come in.
“Nothing yet. We’d just like to ask him some questions,” he said, glancing around the cozy living room. The television was on the afternoon news. Throw pillows were on the flowered couch. The yellow walls were bright and cheery. This didn’t look like a place a killer would live unless the frilly frou-frou drove him to lose his mind.
She panted again, and her face turned ashen.
“Ms. Kilnery, are you all right?”
“Braxton Hicks. This is the third time,” she said. Her worried look didn’t soften. “What type of questions?”
“About some death threats,” Gwen answered.
Rena’s hand went to her pregnant belly, and it looked as though she forgot to breathe. “Someone is threatening to kill him?”
Max slid his hands into his pockets. “Not quite. Do you know where he is?”
“If the threats aren’t against him, are you suggesting he made them?”
“No,” Max said.
“Yes,” Gwen answered at the same time. “Listen, this will be easier if we just talk to him. Did he say where he was going?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but her face contorted and a scream wrenched free.
Max reached for her and held her as she lowered to the ground. “Gwen, call an ambulance.”
Gwen’s face turned white. Max would have found it comical if it weren’t for the situation, they were in. “How far apart are your contractions?”
“I don’t know.” She panted as he picked her up and carried her to the couch. Max glanced at his watch. “We’ve been here about three minutes. Do you know when the last one was?”
“I just put cookies in the oven,” she answered.
Gwen was talking into the phone, and then she spun around to face them. “You have cookies?”
“They still need about five minutes, but you’re more than welcome to have some.”
Gwen spoke into the phone. “Contractions are about eight minutes apart. Send an ambulance and make it fast.”
“Rena, everything is going to be fine. Just breathe,” Max said.
Rena pointed to the phone on the table. “Call Paul. He’s my Lamaze partner.”
Max grabbed her phone from the table. “Where is your suitcase?”
Rena pointed to the closet door. “I have it ready to go.”
Max grabbed the suitcase, and Gwen went for the phone. “What’s he listed under?”
“Paul.”
She nodded and scrolled before hitting Send. Max didn’t hear the other half of the conversation. He didn’t hear much of anything when Rena let out another scream as he’d been bent over putting the suitcase at her feet.
She’d latched onto his shirt with both hands, and her face contorted again from happy homemaker to potential killer in two seconds flat.
Gwen
Chapter 24
As the paramedics arrived and pushed us out of the way, Max and I looked on, thankful that we wouldn’t be the ones delivering the baby.
“You turned white as a ghost,” Max teased. “What’s the matter? Haven’t you read any books on how to deliver babies?”
I swallowed hard. “Books contain the knowledge. It’s not like having the first-hand experience. I still have to do those things for the first time.”
“I see your point,” Max said as the paramedics headed for the door and wheeled her out. He glanced over his shoulder. “Aren’t you coming?”
My lips twitched. “Not till the cookies are done and I’ve had time to snoop.”
Max’s lips parted.
I crossed the room and closed the door, peeking out the blind. “What? It’s not illegal. We were invited in. It would be rude if we let her house burn down because no one dealt with the cookies.”
The timer went off, and I hurried into the kitchen to pull out the fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. My mouth watered, and my stomach growled. I returned to the living room with one chocolate delicious warm cookie wrapped in a napkin to find Max flipping through a magazine. He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you ready now?”
“No, silly, we have to wait for the rest of them to cool first, and then we can leave,” I answered, heading toward the closed doors down the hall.
“Uh…Gwen,” Max called out. “He might be our guy.”
I glanced over my shoulder with my hand on the knob. Max turned the wedding magazine around to show me the pages full of holes. Someone had cut out things, just like the letters pasted to the death threats. I smiled. We were getting closer to having our answers.
I opened the first bedroom door and was met with flowered décor. Closing that door, I moved to the next one. I pushed it open.
This room had a darker décor. It smelled of musk and spice. This was Paul’s room. I stepped inside and picked up the picture on the dresser. It was of a motorcycle gang, all dressed in their leathers, straddling bikes. The picture beside it was of him and his sister from when they were younger.
“We should leave,” Max said as he entered the room behind me.
“A few more minutes,” I answered and began pulling open the dresser drawers. “Check under the bed.”
Max did as I asked, and I shut the last drawer and moved to the closet. I pulled open both doors, and my hand flew to my mouth.
Sequined dresses were lined up next to the leather jacket. Mannequin heads were sitting on the top shelf, wearing wigs. The high heels were on the floor, large, about the same size as the leather boots.
“You think these are his sister’s?” Max asked, coming to stand next to me.
I pulled out one of the dresses and held it up to Max’s six-foot frame. A grin split my lip. “Too long and wide to be the sister’s dresses.”
I put the dress back and shoved them to the side to reveal cut-outs of wedding dresses taped to the back wall. “Something tells me those cut-outs in the wedding magazine weren’t used to threaten your sister.”
“What the hell are you doing?” The voice had me reaching for my gun as I spun around to the sound.
A man stood there, wearing one of the sequined dresses, holding a wig in his hand. Makeup was caked on
his face.
“Your sister let us in. We called the paramedics, and you,” I answered.
His eye twitched. “You didn’t leave when they took her out?”
“I had to wait for the cookies,” I answered.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.
“Gwen Bennett.” I held out my hand and shook his, twisting his hand to get a better look at his nails. “Great nail polish. What’s the color?”
“Fire Engine Red,” he answered, moving around us to place the wig on the head of one of the mannequins. “You two need to get the hell out.”
“We have some questions for you, Mr. Kilnery.”
He sighed and grabbed a shirt and jeans from his drawers. “The dresses are mine. I do a drag show on Friday nights up at the Luxor, and I had rehearsals for tonight’s show. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to change, and then I have to get to the hospital before Rena kills me for missing this.”
He walked into the bathroom to change. “Mr. Kilnery, is it true that you threatened Dexter Cline when you were sentenced?”
“Yeah, sure did. Not one of my finer moments.” He peeked out the door. “I’m working on my rage in anger management. It’s part of my release. The first step is acknowledging I have a problem.” He disappeared back into the bathroom.
“That’s great,” I announced when Max rolled his eyes. “So then are you saying you didn’t send any threating letters?”
“Why would I do that when emailing would be so much easier?” He walked out, pulling his shirt down over his smooth waxed-looking chest. “Why? Is someone saying it was me?”
He walked out of the bedroom, and Max and I followed. “Did you know that District Attorney Cline is getting married?”
Paul grabbed a cookie and tossed one in his mouth before gesturing for us to have one. “I don’t even know the dude. Why would I care if he’s getting married?”
“He’s the one that put you in jail,” Max pointed out.
“Oh right, him. During that phase I was always high on drugs and didn’t know what the hell I was doing,” Paul sighed. “Listen, I have to go to the hospital, but if you don’t believe me, stay and search the house. I have nothing to hide. You already found my dresses.” He headed for the door and turned before opening it. “I’m trying to turn my life around. I want to be there for my sister and her baby. I won’t ruin the chance Pastor Michael gave me.”
Rotten Apple (Bennett Dynasty Book 1) Page 11
