Crime Seen

by Victoria Laurie

  Bree glanced nervously at her house. ‘‘Do you think my family’s in danger?’’

  My left side again felt thick and heavy. ‘‘No, my radar says they’re going to be okay. It’s you who could be at risk, though, so it’s important that you take precautions. Okay?’’

  Bree wrung her hands. ‘‘How long do you think it will be before they catch the guy who killed her?’’ she asked.

  I shrugged. ‘‘I’m not sure. But as I get updated, I’ll pass that along to you.’’

  ‘‘Good. Thanks again, Abby, for all of this. I mean, I’ll definitely keep my eyes open and be careful, but I’m really grateful to you for connecting me to my mom again, and for shining some light on her murderer.’’

  I grimaced, because the next thing that I had to ask played right into her sense of gratitude. ‘‘You’re welcome,’’ I said and paused as I thought how to broach the subject. ‘‘Now I need a favor from you.’’

  ‘‘Sure,’’ she said enthusiastically. ‘‘You name it.’’

  ‘‘It’s big.’’

  ‘‘I figured it might be,’’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘‘I need your log-in and password at Universal.’’

  Bree tilted her head curiously at me. ‘‘Why?’’

  I looked her dead in the eye. ‘‘I can’t tell you, but it’s important.’’

  ‘‘Is it illegal?’’ she asked.

  I smiled. ‘‘No. I need it to look up something. The information will not be used illegally, I swear.’’ For emphasis I held up my hand, scout’s honor style.

  Bree hesitated. ‘‘They guard those passwords pretty closely, you know,’’ she said to me. ‘‘I mean, they’ve fired processors before for giving out their passwords to loan officers.’’

  Crap. I was putting her in a really sticky position. ‘‘Bree, I swear, I need to look up this information one time, and then I will never use that password again. In fact, how about if I tell you that I only need it tomorrow morning, say, before eight a.m. Then you can go to the IT department and tell them that you’ve forgotten it and need it reset. Okay?’’

  The look of worry on Bree’s face brightened at the suggestion. ‘‘That’s cool,’’ she said. ‘‘I can live with that.’’

  ‘‘Great,’’ I said, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen from my purse. ‘‘Write it down on this, and after I’m done in the morning I’ll flush it down the toilet.’’

  Bree actually laughed as she took the paper and pen. ‘‘It’s not like it’s the code to Fort Knox or anything.’’

  While Bree was writing down her log-in and password, my eye caught a silver sedan making its way slowly down the street. It paused ever so slightly in front of Bree’s house, then continued to the end of the block and turned the corner. ‘‘Here,’’ she said, pushing the paper in front of me.

  I took the paper and folded it several times as the three of us stood up. Thinking about the suspicious behavior of the car I’d just seen, I said, ‘‘Remember, if there’s a stranger at the door, don’t answer and stick close to your husband for a while, okay?’’

  ‘‘You really think I’m in danger, don’t you?’’ she asked earnestly.

  ‘‘I think that you can go a long way toward making sure you keep safe. I’ll talk to that law enforcement officer again, and hopefully he can have someone keep you under surveillance or something.’’

  We headed back across the street and waved good-bye to her as we got into the Hummer. ‘‘Want to fill me in on the mother-murder thing?’’ Candice asked while she buckled her seat belt.

  ‘‘Can’t,’’ I said flatly. ‘‘It’s official FBI business and Dutch would kill me if I said anything,’’ I added, feeling a bit guilty about keeping something from her.

  ‘‘Okay,’’ she said, holding up a hand in surrender. ‘‘Don’t want to know too much and make myself all vulnerable.’’

  ‘‘I know what you mean,’’ I said moodily.

  We drove in silence back to the office and parked in the garage. ‘‘What now?’’ I asked her, noting that it was still fairly early in the afternoon.

  ‘‘Now I do some digging,’’ said Candice. ‘‘I want to check out Dillon’s story and find out what he’s lying about.’’

  ‘‘Good idea,’’ I said. ‘‘While you’re doing that I can get back to my mailing list.’’

  We headed up to our suite and as we came down the hallway we saw a tall figure pacing in front of the door. ‘‘Uh-oh,’’ I whispered as we approached.

  ‘‘I’ll let you do the talking,’’ Candice whispered back, then said, ‘‘Good afternoon, Detective Johnson.’’

  ‘‘Candice,’’ Milo said evenly. ‘‘Abby,’’ he said without a hint of warmth in my direction.

  ‘‘Hey there, Milo,’’ I said with a brilliant smile. ‘‘What’re you doing here on a Sunday?’’ I asked as I opened the door to the suite.

  Milo followed us in and said, ‘‘The question is, what are you doing talking to Dillon McDaniel about his dad’s murder?’’

  Crap. ‘‘He called you, huh?’’ I asked, as my mind worked feverishly to come up with a plausible story that didn’t involve telling Milo I thought Lutz was innocent.

  ‘‘Yes, he called me. He wanted me to find out who’d hired you and Candice to dig up dirt on Lutz. Trouble is, you two never asked him a question about Lutz. Instead you drilled him on his personal business. He seems to think you might be trying to cast some doubt on the case, and he’s worried that Lutz is the one who hired you.’’

  Milo was giving me the hard stare. Typically, he played good cop to Dutch’s bad. But when he was alone, like now, he could really do the bad cop thing well. ‘‘Lutz did not hire us,’’ I said, hoping I could leave it at that.

  Milo gave me a look of contempt—he wasn’t buying it. He turned his attention to Candice. ‘‘What do you have to say about this?’’

  ‘‘I have to say that in the brief time we’ve been looking into the murder of your former partner, the evidence is really beginning to turn us in a new direction,’’ was all she said, but it was enough to incense Milo.

  He started breathing hard through his nose, and his jaw clenched and unclenched a few times before he said, ‘‘This isn’t a case you want to continue to work on, Candice. You’re new in town, and at some point you’ll need the full cooperation of the police on some other investigation you’re working. I’d hate for you to get stonewalled because you’ve got a reputation for being friendly toward cop killers. And I’d also hate it if, say, a complaint ended up at the private investigators’ licensing bureau. You know how they hate to renew licenses to PIs who rack up a lot of complaints.’’

  My mouth fell open and I inhaled sharply. Milo was playing really dirty pool here. He was such a straight shooter—this just wasn’t like him. ‘‘Hold on a second,’’ I said.

  ‘‘I’m sorry, detective, I must have misunderstood you, because I thought I just heard you threaten to hamper any future investigation I might conduct,’’ said Candice evenly. Her eyes were narrowed and she was standing ramrod straight. I got the feeling she didn’t cotton to being pushed around.

  ‘‘Oh, I didn’t threaten so much as promise you that if you proceed to try and muddy the waters at Lutz’s parole hearing by introducing some bullshit about a hero’s family and his financial affairs, I will make sure you go broke in this town.’’

  ‘‘That’s enough!’’ I yelled and stuck my face right into Milo’s. He was still glaring at Candice, who was glaring right back. I took him by the shoulders and said, ‘‘Listen to me!’’

  Milo blinked and his eyes looked straight into mine. I’d never gotten up in his face like I was doing right now. ‘‘Let go of me, Abby,’’ he said quietly, but I could tell he was one breath away from twisting me around and slapping handcuffs on me.

  I let go of his shoulders and held up my hands, but I wouldn’t back away from him. ‘‘Lutz didn’t hire Candice,’’ I said. ‘‘I hired her.’’
<
br />   Again Milo blinked several times in rapid succession. ‘‘You?’’ he asked. ‘‘Why would you hire her?’’

  I sighed, trying to figure out where to begin. I decided I might as well start from the beginning. ‘‘Remember that night you came over with Lutz’s file, and Dutch told you he’d asked me to look at those three cases of his?’’

  ‘‘Yeah?’’

  ‘‘Well, when he left the next morning I went to his study to work on them, but the case I ended up getting the most info on was Walter’s. His file got mixed in with the others and my radar wouldn’t let it go.’’

  Milo’s expression softened. Unlike my boyfriend, Milo had always believed in my intuitive abilities one hundred percent. ‘‘And?’’ he asked after a short silence.

  I continued. ‘‘The very first impression I had was that Lutz didn’t do it.’’

  Milo rolled his eyes. ‘‘Abby, he confessed to it. He had details only the killer would know.’’

  ‘‘He had details fed to him by the killer, Milo!’’ I insisted. ‘‘I swear to you, Lutz did not kill Walter!’’

  Milo folded his arms. ‘‘Then who did?’’

  ‘‘Wolfe was there,’’ I said, trying to remember the images that had flashed into my mind. ‘‘And someone else. But I’m not sure who actually pulled the trigger.’’

  ‘‘Wolfe has an alibi,’’ Milo said with a sigh. ‘‘He was playing poker at a friend’s house. Five separate witnesses have all given sworn testimony that he was there all night.’’

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. ‘‘And I bet all five of those witnesses work for Wolfe,’’ I said.

  Milo looked a little uncomfortable and I knew I’d hit the nail right on the head. ‘‘Whatever,’’ he said with a wave of his hand. ‘‘We have a guy in jail who has confessed to the crime. We have another guy who has five witnesses who place him well away from the scene and no other evidence against him. Someone’s going to pay for Walter’s death, Abby, and if it’s the guy who confessed, then that’s okay with me.’’

  I shook my head sadly. ‘‘You know,’’ I said after a long moment, ‘‘I really used to think you were one of the good guys, Milo. That you were a cop worth looking up to.’’

  Milo’s jaw set and his lips formed a thin line. I’d stung him. ‘‘Don’t even think about lecturing me on this, Abby.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I’ll think about it,’’ I snapped. ‘‘What would Walter say if he were here and he knew this was your attitude? Do you think he’d be proud?’’

  Milo’s complexion darkened and his face turned so fierce that I knew I’d gone too far. ‘‘You have no idea what you’re saying,’’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘‘I’m gonna leave now, and it would be a pretty good idea if we didn’t talk to each other for a while.’’ With that, he stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind him.

  ‘‘Wow,’’ Candice said when he’d gone. ‘‘Think we hit a few nerves there.’’

  I had tears in my eyes and I fought hard to pull them back before I answered. ‘‘Guilt can blind you to a lot of things,’’ I finally said.

  ‘‘Do you want to drop the case?’’

  ‘‘No,’’ I said firmly. ‘‘I need to solve it now more than ever.’’

  Chapter Eleven

  Candice and I hung out at the office until dinnertime, when we decided to grab a bite to eat. I told her that I needed to swing by my place first and take care of Eggy. As we came down my street, I spotted Dutch’s car in my driveway. ‘‘Abort! Abort!’’ I said and made a circular motion with my finger.

  ‘‘You and the boyfriend fighting?’’ she asked as she pulled into a nearby driveway and turned around.

  ‘‘No. But five seconds after I walk through that door we will be,’’ I said. ‘‘If I know Milo, he’s gone straight to Dutch, and Dutch is going to tear me a new one about sticking my nose where he doesn’t think it belongs.’’

  ‘‘Supportive,’’ Candice said sarcastically.

  I sighed. ‘‘That’s the problem. He usually is, but he helped put Lutz away, so he’s not going to let go of all that hard work so easily.’’

  ‘‘Men,’’ Candice said with a sigh.

  Over dinner she and I discussed strategy. Candice planned to find out what had happened to Lutz and continue checking into Dillon’s background. There was only so much she could do on a Sunday, though; she felt she’d have better luck on a weekday.

  I was going to get to Universal as early as possible the next morning and use Bree’s password to look up anything that might give us a clue in the old loan files around the time of Walter’s murder. We planned to regroup at lunch, exchange information, and decide what to do next.

  ‘‘Whatever you find,’’ said Candice as she pushed her dinner plate away, ‘‘I think it’s best if tomorrow is your last day at the mortgage company.’’

  I let out a sigh of relief. ‘‘I’m so glad you think so,’’ I said. ‘‘I hate that place.’’

  Candice smiled. ‘‘The nine-to-five grind isn’t your thing, huh?’’

  I shook my head vigorously. ‘‘At least it served its purpose. Now I know I need to get that mailer done and work on building my business back up. There is no way I ever want to work for corporate America again.’’

  ‘‘I feel ya,’’ she said. ‘‘I may be poor right now, with slim prospects, but I’d almost rather starve than go back to working for someone else’s PI firm.’’

  Candice and I paid, then cruised back to my place. Dutch’s car was gone from my driveway, and I felt both relieved and disappointed. ‘‘Coast is clear,’’ said Candice as she spun us around again and headed back to the parking garage to pick up my car.

  When I got home, there was a note from Dutch on the kitchen table:

  Abby,

  Call me in the morning. We need to talk. And don’t even think about dodging me on this. Dutch

  I sighed and wadded up the note before pitching it into the waste can. No sense saving that love note. I picked up Eggy, who looked very tired. No doubt my boyfriend had been passing the time by tossing a ball around with him. I carried my pup to bed and watched the telly until I fell asleep. Sometime in the night I woke with a start. My heart was racing and my sheets were soaked with sweat. Eggy had moved to the other side of the bed and he yawned sleepily at me.

  I flipped on my light and grabbed a pen and pad of paper from the drawer in my nightstand, then began scribbling furiously about the dream I’d just had.

  Sometimes my very best intuitive information comes when I’m asleep, and I’ve always been one to pay attention to my dreams. The one I’d had tonight was particularly intriguing, albeit a bit on the terrifying side.

  From what I remembered, it had started out simply enough. I was a shepherd on a hill overlooking a flock of sheep. The day was sunny and warm, and I remember feeling the heat of the sun on my skin. The sheep were all grazing peacefully, until a cloud moved over the sun and cast a shadow on one section of the herd.

  I don’t remember what pulled my attention to one group of sheep in particular, but a song had seemed to fill the air around me. A man’s voice had been singing, ‘‘Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? The big bad wolf? The big bad wolf?’’ As I looked to a small clump of sheep, there were cries of alarm from them, and they scattered. Right on their tail was a monstrous wolf, with bared fangs and black fur, chasing a sheep along the fence line.

  I tried to stand, but I felt weighed down by gravity. When I finally struggled to my feet, my eyes had trouble focusing. It was as if my lids were too heavy and my eyes kept closing. Running was out of the question—I could barely stand, let alone walk, and all around me the frantic bleating of the sheep rang out along the hillside.

  Then suddenly the sheep made a sharp turn and one of them headed up the hill toward me with the wolf right on its heels. I struggled to keep focused and with all my might I lifted one leg and was able to take a small step. The sheep bleated and ran as the wolf gained s
peed and was almost on top of it. I cried out, ‘‘Nooooo!’’ just as a gunshot rang out. The sheep fell over and turned into Walter McDaniel. And it was just then that I got a clear image of the face of the wolf, which had suddenly taken on human characteristics. I had a vague recollection of the face, but what made it click in my head was the crown on the wolf’s head. It was King Edward VII.

  I could remember being terribly confused by the whole scene and then I felt two sets of hands grab me roughly under the arms and pull me back and away from the scene. ‘‘Where are you taking me?’’ I asked, trying to twist around so that I could see the face of my kidnappers.

  ‘‘To jail!’’ said one of the men.

  ‘‘But why?’’ I wailed.

  ‘‘You’re guilty of murder,’’ said my captor. ‘‘You let that wolf kill your sheep!’’

  I fought against them, but it was no use. I was dragged into a building, which I instantly recognized as Universal Mortgage. In the next moment, I was thrown into a large cage filled with snakes. I moved to the door of the cage and began pulling on it. That was when Dick Wolfe appeared and laughed as I struggled with the barred door.

  ‘‘Look out,’’ he said with a chuckle. ‘‘Snakes are going to eat you!’’

  I looked down at my feet and saw dozens of snakes slithering all over my shoes and up my legs. ‘‘Let me out!’’ I screamed.

  Dick laughed and was joined by Darren Cox.

  ‘‘Let me out now!’’ I demanded as I felt more snakes crawl up to my middle.

  Dick and Darren just laughed harder, taking turns pointing at me as they whooped it up and slapped each other on the back.

  I felt a snake encircle my neck, and dozens more wound around my legs, and up to my torso. I screamed and pulled on the door to the cage with all my might, and just in time I woke up.

  After writing out the dream I got out of bed and wriggled out of my shirt. It felt damp and uncomfortable. Slipping on a fresh one, I crawled back into bed and scooted over a bit to be closer to Eggy. I grabbed the paper I’d written the dream on and read back through it, pausing to circle a few phrases and make a note or two in the margins. When I was done, I felt sleepy again, so I set the pad down and turned out the light. The next sound I heard was my alarm.