by Ali Franklin
Two minutes later, she was stuck at an intersection where the traffic light had gone out. Nicki called.
“Where are you?” asked the chief.
“I’m at Elm and Fifth. The light’s out again.”
“Should I come get you?”
“I’ll be there soon.”
Three minutes later, Ryan pulled into Nicki’s driveway. The chief was standing in the garage, about to get into her Jeep. She gave Ryan a long hug.
“You okay?”
“I am now. Did you call Jack?”
Nicki put her arm around Ryan’s shoulders and led her into the house. “He’s sending a car out there now.”
“Does he think it has anything to do with the FLH?”
“He didn’t say, but it feels that way in my gut.”
“I’m beginning to think someone is after the money,” said Ryan. “There’s no other connection between all three women.”
They went in the house and sat at the kitchen table.
“Have you eaten?” asked Nicki.
“No.” Ryan looked toward her friend. “Wait a minute. Why are you dressed like that?”
Nicki was wearing black jeans, boots, and a button-down shirt with light paisley pattern. Her hair was freshly styled.
The chief flashed a half-grin. “I had dinner plans, but we rescheduled.”
Ryan exhaled. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…I should’ve called Teddy instead.” Her shoulders felt heavy.
Nicki put a hand on her arm. “I’m glad you called. I would have felt terrible if you hadn’t.” She looked down at the ground, about to say something else. Then she stepped over to the refrigerator and called out what she found inside.
They settled on comfort food: grilled cheese sandwiches and some Chardonnay. While they ate, they talked about the connection points between Veronica, Emma, and Danielle. They couldn’t find anything except the FLH.
“How well do you know Danielle?” asked Nicki. “Had you worked with her before this year?”
“No. I’ve seen her at hospital fundraisers, but we’ve never spent any time together. I know everyone thinks the world of Joanna.”
Nicki smiled, remembering the meeting at O’Leary’s. “Yeah, she’s a great kid.” She looked serious again. “Have you ever heard any rumors about Danielle? About her having affairs or any other trouble?”
“I’ve never heard a bad word about her. Why are you asking that?”
Nicki moved her finger along the tablecloth, tracing an inkless doodle. “We don’t know when or how that shoebox got to Danielle’s front door. And we don’t really know why she left town. We have to consider the possibility that she’s trying to throw suspicion off of herself.”
Ryan finished her grilled cheese in silence. Her mind raced through scenario after scenario, arranging the clues in one order and then another. But it just didn’t make sense.
She felt something plop into her lap and looked down with alarm. It was a slobbery tennis ball. Maverick sat next to Ryan’s chair, his tongue hanging out of his mouth and a “Come on, let’s play” look on his face.” Nicki smiled and offered to do the dishes if Ryan would throw the ball to the dogs in the back yard.
It was just what the three of them needed. Twenty minutes later, Maverick, Star, and Ryan returned to the house, ready for a good night’s sleep.
Chapter 16
Ryan spent a fitful night at Nicki’s, tossing and turning as she dreamed about rats. She padded out to breakfast Tuesday morning in a pair of Nicki’s pajamas and sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. An already-dressed Nicki set a mug of coffee in front of her.
“Rough night,” said Nicki. It wasn’t a question. The chief had heard Ryan’s restless movements in the adjoining guest room. She’d wanted to go in and comfort her friend, but she wasn’t sure how Ryan would have responded.
Ryan picked up the mug and smiled a thank-you. “I’ve always been prone to nightmares. Last night set me up for some bad ones. I moved around so much that Maverick finally got off the bed.”
“Yeah. He came back to my bed in the middle of the night, whining. I think he was worried about you.” Nicki sipped her own coffee. “I’ll call Jack and Gus this morning and see if they found anything else at Danielle’s house.”
“Maybe just call Jack.”
“What makes you say that?”
Ryan replayed Gus’s visit to her office the previous day, when Gus had stressed the fact that Ryan didn’t have an alibi for Veronica’s murder—and claimed that the rat poison was found in Ryan’s recipe.
“He didn’t actually come out and accuse me, but he said he’s keeping an eye on me.”
Nicki frowned. “It’s been a week since Veronica was killed. Jack says they haven’t made much progress in the case. Maybe they’re re-interviewing everyone, hoping someone will remember something new.”
“I just hope he doesn’t consider me a strong suspect.”
“At this stage in the investigation,” said Nicki, “almost everyone is a suspect. But Jack and Gus are pros. They’ll keep working until they figure it out.”
“Nick, when I found that rat last night, I just kept thinking about Danielle being the third person on the committee to be targeted with threats and harassment. That has to make all three crimes connected, right?”
Nicki’s phone buzzed and she lifted it from the table. She looked at the text message and smiled. Then she clicked off the phone and set it down. She looked at Ryan.
“Killing a rodent isn’t a crime, but it does seem threatening. There could be connection with the committee.” Her phone buzzed again. She looked at the message.
Ryan frowned. “I wonder what Gus thought I could tell him yesterday that I hadn’t told him before.”
“When I worked in Los Angeles, I knew plenty of guys like Gus; guys who wanted to make a name for themselves closing cases. They may not be the sharpest thinkers, but they get it done because they keep knocking on doors and talking to people.”
The chief’s phone buzzed again. She lifted it and typed a few words. When she looked up, she was smiling.
“I don’t suppose that’s Jack?” asked Ryan.
“No.” Nicki slipped the phone into her pocket. “It’s just Becky wondering when we’re going to reschedule our dinner date.”
Ryan stood and walked to the coffeemaker. Nicki continued. “Jack probably sent Gus to interview you because Jack knows you too well. He doesn’t want it to look like he’s giving you a pass.”
Ryan lifted the coffee pot to fill her mug. Nicki’s phone buzzed again. The carafe dropped to the counter, landing on its side. Ryan watched as the coffee spilled out.
Nicki grabbed two towels and covered the escaping liquid while Ryan stepped back from the counter. Nicki looked back. “Are you okay?”
Ryan shook her head. Her hands were trembling.
“Maybe that’s enough coffee for this morning,” said Nicki. “Why don’t you go get dressed? Then I’ll take you home so you can shower and change.”
Ryan walked to the bathroom in a daze, her fingertips brushing the wall as she went. A few minutes later, Nicki tapped on the bathroom door.
“You almost ready in there?”
“Yeah.” Ryan came out dressed in the clothes she’d been wearing the previous night.
“When we get to your house,” said Nicki, “pack a bag with a few days’ worth of clothes. That will keep us from having to go back until this is all over.”
Ryan nodded.
As they drove, Ryan asked, “When you talk to Jack, will you ask him why Gus interviewed me again?”
“I will.”
“Could you ask him how he feels about Gus?”
Nicki took a deep breath. “Jack and I have gotten to know each other during the past year, but I’ll have to be careful about that. Partners can develop a relationship quickly. It isn’t usually a good idea to question one’s motives when talking to the other.”
Ryan went quiet again.
/> “Hey,” the chief patted her friend’s knee. “I’ll look for an opportunity to find out what Jack really thinks about Gus. But unless you have a specific reason to question Gus’s motives, it’s just going to make you seem defensive.”
They reached Ryan’s house. Inside, she said, “I just need twenty minutes. Do you want some coffee?”
Nicki grinned. “No, I think we’ve had enough.” The chief sat on the couch and pulled out her phone.
Ryan showered and dressed in record time. She packed a bag with three work outfits, three sets of workout clothes, shoes, and something to sleep in. At the last minute, she added another pair of shorts and one more T-shirt. She needed a workout, pronto.
When Ryan was ready, Nicki walked around the house with her and made sure every door and window was locked tight. Nicki slammed a window to make sure it was closed tight. Ryan screamed.
“Sorry—I guess I’m a little jumpy.” Ryan looked at Nicki. “Would you mind if I just got a ride with you today?”
“No problem,” said the chief. They left the house and got into the Jeep.
As soon as she started the engine, Nicki’s phone buzzed. This time the buzzing didn’t stop. She pulled out the phone.
“Sorry,” said Nicki. “This will just take a minute.” She tapped a button.
“Hi, Becky. I’m just on my way to work with Ryan. We’ll be there in ten minutes. Can I call you then?”
Ryan could hear the woman talking on the other end of the call but couldn’t make out what she was saying. That was probably for the best. She looked out the window, pretending she didn’t care.
Nicki was talking again. “I know, but things come up. I am a law enforcement officer.” She listened to whatever Becky said, then laughed.
Ryan’s grip tightened around the door handle.
“I can’t wait, either. But I don’t have my calendar with me right now. It’ll just be a few minutes.”
This time Becky talked for a full minute before Nicki said anything. Ryan concentrated on the passing buildings, wishing she was anywhere else.
“Okay, take care,” said Nicki. She tapped a button and set the phone in a cup holder. She looked at Ryan.
“Sorry about that.”
Without looking at her, Ryan said, “No problem. You know, I don’t expect you to put your plans on hold for me.” It came out a little meaner than she’d meant to.
Nicki was silent for a minute. Then she asked, “Is something wrong?”
“I can stay at my own place until the case is over.”
“Ryan, I want you to stay with me. I offered.”
“But you have your own life to live.”
Nicki frowned. “I asked you to stay with me because I want to make sure you’re safe.”
Ryan didn’t answer. Nicki stared ahead, wondering where the conversation had gone awry. They drove in silence until they reached the campus. Nicki parked in the East lot and the two women walked together until they got close to the SUB, where the police station was housed. Ryan waved a hand and veered off toward Glaser Hall.
“Let me know how your conversation with Jack goes,” Ryan called over her shoulder. “Whenever you have the time.”
Nicki stared after her, shaking her head.
Ryan hardly acknowledged Helen when she walked into the office. She went straight to her inner office and closed the door.
Helen knew better than to push her. When Ryan was ready to talk, she’d let her assistant know.
The dean began pacing immediately. She walked from one end of her office around the desk to the window that overlooked the recreation fields. She stopped for a moment, glancing out to see what was happening, then headed back around the backside of the desk to the far wall. If history was any indication, Ryan would do this over and over until she either solved her problem or Helen interrupted.
This time the interruption came by way of a phone call to her direct line. She glanced at the caller ID and raised her eyebrows before lifting the receiver.
“Good morning, Oscar. What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to talk with you about the FLH,” said the president. “What’s the plan?”
Ryan collapsed into her chair. “I think we’re going to have to cancel it. Danielle left town last night and Father Paul and I can’t run the whole thing by ourselves.”
“What about Chase?”
“Chase?” She’d almost forgotten about Veronica’s husband. “He said he can still do the tennis tournament, but there’s too much that’s gone wrong. We just can’t do it, Oscar.” She thought she should add, I’m sorry, but she didn’t want to lie.
“Ryan, the FLH has taken place every year, no matter what obstacles were in the way.”
She leaned back in her chair. Her muscles felt heavy. Ryan didn’t have the strength to argue, but she rallied. “Oscar, we need to cancel. There’s no way around it.”
“Ryan, you’ve never let me down before.” He paused. “Why don’t you talk with the other committee members today and call me back? See if there’s something you all can do.”
With a sigh, Ryan agreed and ended the call.
She stood and walked back to the window and watched a group of students toss a football. She envied their energy. With a sigh, she turned and resumed pacing around her office.
At the last committee meeting, Chase had promised to keep the tennis tournament going. He’d said there were enough teams signed up and enough volunteers to work the event, with or without him. So maybe they could save that part of the weekend. Veronica’s absence didn’t leave any of the events without a leader, but Emma’s death meant the dinner-dance didn’t have a head chef or hostess.
Danielle could have taken on the dinner-dance in addition to the silent auction, but she’d disappeared. Ryan couldn’t see any option other than canceling the Saturday night activity.
That left Ryan and Father Paul. The chili cookoff could run with or without her, Ryan supposed. Community members had already committed to bringing their dishes, and Ryan had the venue and a cadre of students waiting to assist.
The last event was Father Paul’s pancake breakfast. She pulled her cell phone out of her attaché and called St. Andrew’s.
“The father isn’t here,” said the parish secretary. “He’s at the mission, getting ready to serve lunch.” Ryan asked for his cell phone number.
“He won’t answer his phone while he’s there,” she said. “The only way you’ll be able to talk to him is to go down there.” Ryan thanked her and ended the call.
Ryan supposed serving lunch to some of Haverwood’s less fortunate might be a good idea right now, for a few reasons. She walked into the outer office.
“Helen, I need to go see Father Paul, and I don’t have my car today. May I borrow yours for an hour or so?”
If Helen was surprised at the request, she didn’t show it. “Of course.” She handed the keys to Ryan.
“Thanks,” said Ryan. “Call if you need anything.”
Twenty minutes later, Ryan was talking with Father Paul in the kitchen of the homeless shelter. They stood behind a long counter and ladled items onto the clients’ trays as the men and women walked down the cafeteria line.
“Everything’s already arranged,” Father Paul was saying. “We have all the food and volunteers, plus the parish hall. I don’t see any reason to cancel.” He stopped serving food and turned to her. “Except that we’re mourning two of our members.” His shoulders slumped and he lowered his head.
Ryan ladled faster to make up for the priest’s inactivity. She wondered if the enormity of the situation had just occurred to him. She looked around the room at the clients. These people, who were struggling to live day to day, made her realize that she could try a little harder. After all, these were exactly the people the FLH to was designed to help.
One of the kitchen managers called Ryan back to help with the dishwasher. She handed her ladle to Father Paul and complied.
In the back, she got to work sl
iding big trays of dirty dishes into the the machine, engaging the lever, and pulling out trays of clean dishes. Steam escaped from every orifice as the machine ran through its cycle.
The temperature in the room was only bearable because someone had propped open the back door. The door led to the alley, where the huge brown trash containers were stored. It was a dead end, and a favorite spot for some of the shelter’s clients to store some of their belongings.
Ryan loaded and unloaded tray after tray of dishes before glancing toward the back door. When she did, she froze. Chase Arrington stood in the alley talking with a man in a shiny silver suit with a bright purple tie. The two men were gesturing at each other, their faces set in anger. The man in the suit stepped close to Chase and pointed his finger until it rested in the middle of Chase’s chest. Chase looked down at the finger, breathing heavily, then glared back at the man. He bowed his head and said a few words, then walked away. The man in the purple tie smiled.
Ryan ran to the front of the kitchen and grabbed Father Paul by the arm. “Father Paul, I need you to see something.” She tugged him toward the back room.
“Ryan, I can’t just leave the line. There aren’t enough of us.”
Ryan took a breath to protest, then stopped. The man in the suit had just walked in the front door. She ducked down below the counter, then realized the man didn’t know she was. She rose and turned to Father Paul.
“You see that man in the shiny suit?” she asked.
He nodded. “That’s Benny Harmon. He hangs out down here sometimes.”
“Forgive me for saying this,” said Ryan, “but he doesn’t look homeless.”
“He’s a lost soul, and we’re here to help.”
“Lost soul?”
“Benny preys on the men who come down here,” said Father Paul. “Always has a get-rich scheme for anyone who’s gullible enough to take him up on it. I hear he’s also a loan shark.”
“Father, have you ever seen Chase Arrington down here?”
“I’ve asked him to volunteer many times, but he’s never taken me up on the opportunity.”
