“Then you know why he hated Oscar so much.”
Noah’s mouth tensed into a frown. “Yes, I do. But I’m not going to betray his confidence. He was bawling that day. I had never seen him like that, and it scared the hell out of me. All I can say is that Oscar had a hand in hurting the Rodriguez family very badly. I’ve been trying to help Reuben heal, but these past few days have been a nightmare. It’s not my place to tell you what he went through. It’s Reuben’s. It’s his choice.” His sigh was heavy. “But I’ll see if I can talk some sense into him. I think you want to help. That’s why this whole thing is tearing you apart. You want to help Reuben, but you can’t deny the facts. And I wouldn’t want you to.”
Li shuffled his feet. “I—is he still angry at me?”
“He’s upset. But mostly, I think he’s frightened. Oscar’s death scared him.” Worry stole into Noah’s eyes. “And now he’s starting to be evasive with me. Something’s making him nervous. I think he’s terrified that you will mention something to the police. Don’t tell him I said this, but his greatest fear in life is losing me. And he might be terrified that the police will take him away from me forever.”
That was a major reason Li stayed quiet. He had no concrete proof. Just fears. If he let himself get carried away by the currents of his fears, he could hurt two innocent people. Maybe even more. Violent death did that, sent out ripples of terror and suspicion in all directions, without prejudice to those who get swallowed by its riptide. Oscar’s murder affected everyone from those as close as his widow to as distant as Li himself.
“I’m sorry, Noah. I don’t want to hurt you or Reuben. You’re the only friends I have in town.”
“It’s okay, Li. We’ll weather through this. But instead of being opposite sides, let’s try working together for a change.” Noah clapped Li on the shoulder. “Let’s put the groceries away and forget about all this for now. Also, if your head’s up for it, I wanted to teach you this simple recipe so you won’t go hungry on us. I believe you should learn how to cook, especially living on your own.”
Li’s answer was distracted. “Yeah … sounds good to me.”
He couldn’t shut off the engine in his mind, despite the never-ending throb on the crown of his skull. He couldn’t shake the idea he gave to Detective Hughes that someone was after him, someone who didn’t mind hurting him.
A car. A baseball bat. What next?
“The report’s incomplete. I’m afraid he showed up at the wrong time.”
Morley slid the tape recorder across the table to his employer.
The Lady tapped the recorder with a manicured nail. “It’s satisfactory. As you say, he’s not much of a threat. But I don’t like loose ends. Or loose lips.” Her tapping nail sounded like a ticking bomb in the silence around them. “I assume you’ve dealt with him, Morley.”
“He never knew what hit him. I’m certain.”
“Is he dead?”
“That I can’t say. I gave him a good smack, but not at full power. He’ll be seeing stars for a while. Shall I go back and—?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I want to know what he knows.”
Morley cleared his throat. “May I interject something, ma’am?”
The ticking time bomb halted. A pause. “I suppose.”
“The kid can’t hurt us. He’s new in town. He doesn’t even have the resources to feed himself properly. The amount of firepower he has wouldn’t be enough to fuel a sneeze.”
Another pause, this one stretching longer. The Lady spoke quietly, but her words were rimmed in steel teeth. “You don’t understand, Morley. It’s not who he is that I worry about. It’s what he knows. He blabbed to the cops about my conversation with your former boss. That I can’t allow. How much did he hear? How much has he figured out? Information can kill as effectively as a gunshot. A knife in the heart. A thimble of poison.” Her voice curdled with irony. “A baseball bat to the skull. Information in the wrong quarters is lethal. I have to eliminate the problem.”
Morley swallowed hard. He had never heard The Lady sound so cold.
The Lady tapped her finger. The return of the time bomb, tick-tick-ticking its countdown clock. “Perhaps it would be best to invite the young man to tea.”
CHAPTER 11
Long Shadows
“Hi, Li.”
Never before had two little words sounded so defeated and unwilling.
Li froze mid-scan of the can of soup in his hand. Now what was going to happen? After that eventful Monday (the pain in his head had reduced to a dim hum), Li shuddered at the prospects of Tuesday when the employees of Esther’s Family Grocery were allowed to return to work.
Reuben twisted the corner of his apron in his hands, and he had trouble making eye contact with Li. “My boyfriend would like me to invite you to have dinner with us tonight after work. Seven o’clock. If you can make it.”
Li paused, slowly lowering the scanner. “Do you … want me there?”
“I … Noah asked me to invite you. And … And we did offer to lend you the computer for your essay if you still need it. It’s due tomorrow, isn’t it?”
Li nodded. Actually, he had started to stress about his paper since this weekend had proved to be more thrilling than Li wanted. However, this invitation still felt like tiptoeing across no-man’s-land into an enemy camp.
Reuben inhaled deeply and drilled his stare into Li’s eyes. “Then come. Your education is important. And I don’t welch on a promise. Noah … We would like you to come.”
“Um … thank you. I’ll be there.”
“Just one thing.” Reuben stepped forward, his eyes starting to heat up. A frown pushed out his bottom lip. “You won’t mention him at all tonight. Understand? I’ve been miserable all weekend and it’s starting to affect Noah, which I can’t allow. So don’t bring him up. For once, I’d like to not think about it.”
“I promise, Reuben. Really.”
“Good. Great. See you then.”
With that cheery finish, Reuben slumped off to continue his work. Li could read in the carriage of his shoulders that the burden of the universe perched on Reuben’s back, making the once buoyant man drag his feet as if wading through slime. Slime left behind by the malice of Oscar Lindstrom. Misery, thy name is Reuben Rodriguez.
How am I going to help him?
Li returned to scanning the soups. The repetitive activity would help clear his mind, letting him dissect the problem. He remembered that being the case when he washed dishes on the cruise ship. An out-of-body experience where his hands worked in a routine while his brain organized one heck of a murderous mess.
Back and forth and back and forth. That’s the direction Oscar kept going on his last night on Earth. Oscar in his home. Oscar at the store. Oscar in his office. Oscar in the spice aisle. Would they ever clear up this tangle in his travels?
Where was he going? What was he doing?
“Enjoying your day at work, Liam?”
Li flinched. Dammit, couldn’t Detective Hughes just stop being everywhere? “Is this a courtesy call, Detective?”
The detective was alone today and looked—in his own veteran policeman way—kind of friendly. He wore a dark sweater and slacks emphasizing the lean cut of his figure, and carried a basket with a bag of coffee in it. He—and Li was flabbergasted that this was possible—even smiled at him, his teeth sparkling against his dark skin. Li could almost forget there was a murder investigation. Almost. “I am wondering where you suddenly picked up some sass. I didn’t expect it from you. I’m here buying coffee for the station coffee maker before I head in for work.”
“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can help you with?”
The smile relaxed, eased into something more pensive. He nodded at the scanner in Li’s hand. “I wondered if you could tell me something about those scanners.”
Li arched a brow, glanced at the scanner, frowned, and glanced back at Detective Hughes. “The scanners? But why—?” His eyes ballooned to an unnatural
size. Double take. He stared at the thing in his hands as though it morphed into a cobra.
Handheld. Portable. Easy to carry and use.
The gorge rose in his throat. He fought to keep it in place.
“Oh my God.” His words were raw and horrified. “This killed Oscar.”
Detective Hughes gripped his shoulder. “Easy does it, kid. Don’t get sick. That’s not the one that did it. And I would appreciate it if you would keep this to yourself, okay?”
Li nodded and gingerly rested the scanner on the shelf. His cheeks were green.
“Okay there, Liam?” The answering nod was dazed. “Then is there anything you can tell me about this equipment?”
Despite the nausea, Li worked to keep his words even. “We don’t hand them to customers, if that’s what you’re thinking. We’re supposed to keep them locked up. But …” He tossed a glance over his shoulder, hunting for his boss with the thousand-watt smile. “… I have noticed that Leo has a bad tendency to leave them lying around. Like on shelves or on carts. The rest of the employees have to clean up after him.”
“Making it very easy for the murderer to find his weapon. A nice weapon of opportunity. Did you see anyone with a scanner who shouldn’t have had one?”
“No. I don’t think so. It would be pretty noticeable.”
“The one we believe is responsible for the murder was found in the public men’s room toilet. Do you recall seeing anyone near there that night? Anyone suspicious? Anyone who seemed out of the ordinary?”
“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t over there most of the time. And I hate to say it, but other than Oscar’s death, it was a normal night. Nothing seemed out of place.”
“Can you account for any of the scanners on the night Oscar died?”
Li winced. His memory just punched him with a cruel one. He had had a scanner that night. And before he had found Oscar’s body, he had placed the scanner right in Reuben’s hand.
So many black marks against his would-be friend.
“Liam?”
Li couldn’t lie. Detective Hughes would sniff it out. That would end disastrously. “Only one, sir. I had it. My training partner, Reuben Rodriguez, and I were doing price changes on oatmeal that night. He was teaching me how to use it. Then our boss split us up. I swept the floors while Reuben did price changes on the canned pasta.” Now for the part that knotted his stomach. “I … I handed Reuben the scanner I used.”
Detective Hughes tilted his head, studied him like a brandnew artifact in a museum. “You know, this might be the first time you were completely honest with me.” A faint tinge of approval warmed his voice. “You’re coming around, son. Thank you.”
Li felt lower than the dirt sub-floor of the bottom level of a 200-story underground hotel. And he had a shovel to dig himself deeper. “But, Detective, that still doesn’t sort out how Oscar could be in two places at the same time.”
Detective Hughes’s smile dropped into a frown. Li could almost hear the iron thud it made when it hit his chin. “Now I wonder where you would get that idea, young man?”
Li gulped. Well, he was on this honesty kick. Besides, he didn’t like that you-have-the-right-to-remain-silent look on the detective’s face. “Kathryn Lindstrom came to the store on Monday. I was headed home after finding out the store was closed for the day. I met Mrs. Lindstrom in the parking lot. She told me about her neighbors seeing Oscar in his office that night.”
“Oh? And I suppose you might have a theory on how to solve that little paradox?”
“Since there’s no question that Oscar came here because we found his body, the Oscar they saw couldn’t be the real one. It might have been a silhouette, a dummy, or even somebody else posing as him. Almost like an alibi for Oscar.”
The you-have-the-right-to-remain-silent look morphed into the-electric-chair-is-down-the-hall look. Li had a feeling he had nailed the target on that theory. “And why would Mr. Lindstrom or whoever do that?”
“Oscar Lindstrom didn’t want anyone in Shorewood to know he was going to Esther’s Family Grocery.” Li advanced the conjectures about the upturned coat collar and the stormy night.
The glare diminished, but not by much. “You’ve given this case a lot of thought, Liam. Is there anything else you and Kathryn Lindstrom discussed?”
“Well, she did mention the package with the beef heart dumped on Oscar’s doorstep.”
“Did she now? Seems like you’re becoming a crack investigator, aren’t you?”
Li glared back. After all, he couldn’t be arrested for glaring. “I didn’t ask for this to happen, Detective. It just does. I’ve got rotten luck. I can’t help it if all this stuff gets thrown in my lap.”
He wondered if Detective Hughes believed him. Hell, he wondered if he believed himself. Why did murder and misfortune haunt his footsteps?
Detective Hughes’s face molded itself back into the immobile mask of the police, a face that gave nothing away. “You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about, Liam. And next time you learn something interesting, I would appreciate it if you would deliver this information to me as soon as possible. I’m a little concerned where these enterprising efforts of yours will lead. And Liam …” He leaned forward, his voice dipping an octave. He was so close that Li could see a few golden flakes in the detective’s brown eyes. “Keep your nose clean. Killers are dangerous. I don’t need more kids hurting themselves thinking they’re invincible.” The hard eyes softened a bit. “You’re somebody’s son, somebody’s pride and joy. I can’t allow you to get killed trying to do my job. Just a reminder.”
Li didn’t need reminding. After the cruise, it had taken a week for the finger-shaped bruises on his throat to disappear.
“Be safe, Liam.” With that, Detective Hughes took off for the checkout stands, not turning back once.
A coil of tension slinked its way around Li’s exposed throat, a residual memory of the man who tried to squeeze the life out of Li’s body. Now there was the car in the rain. The bat to the skull. Someone was after him, someone with deadly intentions. How would his mother and sister react if these lunatics finished the job? Only three scant years after losing a loving husband and father, could they survive losing a son and brother? Could anyone? Could he really let himself rip another huge hole in their hearts?
Li settled it. He would not discuss, investigate, or even think about Oscar anymore. It was over and done. It was an episode of his life he wanted to bury deeper than the tombs of ancient Egyptians. He wanted to live to see his next birthday, his sister’s birthday, the engagement announcement of his new friends …
He hoped that resolution lasted longer than those made at New Year’s.
Detective Hughes loaded the coffee maker and set the cardinal-red box of croissants on the counter. Around him, the police force of Shorewood was a peaceful hive of activity. Phones blared, quickly answered. Officers flitted in and out of their cubicles and offices, bees on the honeycomb. There was a sedate buzz in the air, the surface atmosphere calm and cool, but underneath brains hummed furiously as they dissected and resolved the problems of the city.
Adam materialized next to his case partner, flipped open the box, and teased out a flaky, buttery croissant. “Ruby makes a pretty good croissant, but you haven’t lived until you’ve tried mine, Tony.” Nonetheless, he tore off a huge bite and guzzled coffee.
Detective Hughes studied Adam’s eyes, which were turning an incandescent red like the box from Ruby’s Bakery. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Couple hours.”
“Kid, don’t kill yourself just for a promotion. I know you really want it, and heaven knows you’ve earned it, but don’t hurt yourself for a title. We risk our lives as it is.”
“It’s not that, Tony.” His red-rimmed gaze dropped to the ground. “Well, not all of it.” A glaze slid over his eyes, suggesting his thoughts had turned to distant memories far from the murder of Oscar Lindstrom. “It was a horrible night, wasn’t it?”
�
��Adam?”
Adam squared his shoulders and thrust his chin forward, but it didn’t quite erase the glazed gloom in his face. “We’ve got the information on Bauer and … and Hate Night. It’s on your desk, Tony.”
“Thank you.” Detective Hughes moved to his little slice of the station. He scanned the crowd of photographs milling about on his desktop. All showed his beautiful, brilliant wife and the light of his life, his two-year-old son. The detective’s eyes softened.
I hope you’ll understand one day why I work so much, son. I want this city to be a safe place to grow up.
The files were neatly bundled on the desk, so innocuous, so without menace. No clue as to the horror nestled within that manila folder.
A list of the one-time employees of Bauer restaurant whose dreams were incinerated by Oscar Lindstrom.
A dossier on Chef Felix Bauer, his career, and his whereabouts since Hate Night.
A collection of Oscar’s restaurant reviews.
A printout of the infamous blog post that sparked the riots.
A list and a map of addresses attacked on Hate Night, forming a distinct and unwelcome pattern.
Police reports. Witness statements. Articles.
Could a murderous truth lie within these documents?
Hate Night. That was the name of it at the station. A furnace of a night fed by hate and terror. Detective Hughes would never forget the fear, the fire, the blood. No one at the department would forget the hurricane pulse of the station, the screaming phones, the sharp orders to protect the innocent citizens who were terrorized. Shorewood was on red alert. And when motives were uncovered, the police worked even harder, throats scraped raw and fingers whittled to bone, to save their city.
A group of twenty or so men had held them all hostage that night. They infected the streets, dividing into hostile, cancerous cells and targeting specific houses. These men sprayed graffiti, burned effigies on the lawns, hollered obscenities, and threw smoke bombs, balloons filled with pig blood, and even lit torches into people’s homes. Houses burned. Families cowered. Sirens howled through the night. First responders raced to evacuate people from neighborhoods, stop the spreading fires, catch the lunatics.
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