Howard just stared at the letters and shook his head in disbelief.
“Did you write these, Howard?”
The man sighed and ran a hand over his forehead. “Some of ‘em.”
“Some of them?” Morgan was skeptical.
“Yep. Those two there, I wrote those, that’s my handwriting, but the typed ones…I’ve never seen them before, I don’t even know how to type. Who even has a typewriter anymore? I usually just text or something. No way, I didn’t write the other three.”
“Okay,” Morgan sighed. “Let’s just say for the sake of argument that you did only write these two…you made some pretty nasty threats in here against Marvin and Ruth Venkman,” he held up the two handwritten notes.
“I was just mad, you know? I didn’t mean nothing by it, and I didn’t say nothing in there about no woman. I was raised better than that. My anger was against the man.”
Morgan looked at the notes again and realized that the two handwritten ones that Howard had admitted to sending, were both threats against Marvin. The threats against Ruth were from the typewritten ones. “You threatened to kill Marvin Venkman.”
“No, that ain’t true. I said I was gonna mess him up and make him go away. I just meant by playing mind games on him and all.”
“You said that if you ever saw Carissa Mooney with him, you’d make sure that he never touched another woman again. There’s really no grey area there, Mr. Parker. You were making violent threats.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Howard spread his hands wide, acting as though being questioned was frustrating him terribly. Morgan changed tactics.
“What do you do here, Mr. Parker?” he asked.
“I supervise the packaging of raw materials and get the product sent over to shipping, why? What’s that got to do with anything?”
Tyler took a long shot. “Are you acquainted with Ronnie Delario?”
“It’s a small plant, man. Everyone knows who everyone is that works here, but I ain’t never talked to the dude, why?”
“Are you familiar with the department that Mr. Delario is in?”
“Yeah, he’s in shipping. One of the loading dock guys. Kinda slow, complains a lot.”
“Is there any way that someone in Mr. Delario’s position could touch the raw product in any way?”
Howard shook his head. “I don’t think so. You got to have special badges to get into the product areas, and the loading dock guys don’t get those badges.”
“Who has access to raw product?”
“My team and the sales guys I guess.”
“The sales guys?”
“Yeah, they can sell individual bottles of stuff. We have a warehouse here that has a little bit of stock on site. The rest of it gets shipped out in bulk.”
“Can you show me where the sales department is?” Morgan had a hunch.
“Yep, follow me,” Howard was clearly confused, but led the way out of the conference room they’d been in, through a maze of corridors, and ending up in a small sales office.
“Hey Howard, what’s up?” a young man in short sleeves and a tie asked, interrupting the game he was playing on the internet.
“Man wanted to see the sales office,” Howard mumbled, jerking a thumb in Morgan Tyler’s direction. “You done with me?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes, for now. Thank you Mr. Parker,” he handed him a business card. “I’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
*
Exhausted after another dinner spent reassuring Ruth Venkman that she wouldn’t be going to jail for withholding information from the police, followed by closing down the café and stopping by the bank to make a deposit, Rossalyn wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with Barney and Ryan and mindlessly watch a movie. She pulled into the driveway of her cozy home with a sigh of relief, only to grimace with frustration when a pair of headlights pulled in behind her.
“What now?” she muttered, grabbing a box of leftovers from the front seat and stepping out of the SUV.
A man killed the lights of his pickup truck and got out, walking toward her. Rossie squinted to try and identify him in the low light glowing from the porch.
“Officer Tyler?” she asked, hardly recognizing him out of uniform.
“Aww…come on Rossalyn, you’ve been calling me Morgan for months. Have we really gone back to formalities?” he chided gently.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of uniform. Are you undercover?” she asked, hoping that whatever he wanted wouldn’t take long. She just wanted to get inside and pour a glass of wine.
“Uh, no. I’m actually not here for official reasons,” he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his well-fitted jeans and looked a bit nervous.
“Oh?” Rossie was confused and her patience was wearing thin.
“Yeah, I was hoping that you might want to go out for dinner or something…sometime,” he confessed, looking relieved at having gotten the words out.
“Oh!” Rossalyn’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. Whatever she’d been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been that. “Wow, umm…I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.
“Look, I’m sorry that I caught you by surprise, and I’m sorry that things have been strange since the murder case a few months ago. I just think that you’re a really interesting and smart and fun person, and I’d like to get to know you better,” Morgan shrugged.
Rossalyn was profoundly grateful that their conversation was interrupted by the loud pipes of Tom Hundman’s motorcycle as he rode past, staring at her and Morgan as they stood together in the driveway. The noise made conversation impossible, and allowed the awkward moment to pass. Rossie raised her hand in a small wave and Tom ignored it.
“Subtle, isn’t he?” Morgan commented, making a face.
“He has a right to be upset,” Rossie murmured. “I wouldn’t be too happy with someone who had suspected me of murder either.”
“I had to explore all possible…” Morgan began, clearly frustrated, but Rossie interrupted him.
“I know, I get it,” she brushed off his explanation. “Here’s the thing…” she took a breath. “I’m just starting to get the hang of this whole “surviving on my own,” thing,” she gripped her Styrofoam takeout container so hard that it squeaked a bit.
“I’ve only been a widow for a little bit less than a year now, and the whole world looks different, you know? I’m still trying to find my place in it, and until I get closer to that goal, it would really be a bad idea for me to even think about dating,” she bit her lip.
Morgan nodded. “Sure, I get that,” he gazed into her eyes and smiled with understanding. “But…you gotta eat, right? I’m not talking about becoming involved, just a shared meal between a couple of people who might be friends. Or coffee, if dinner is too intense. Don’t give me an answer now, I know I just kind of sprung this on you. Think about it and let me know, okay?”
“Sure, okay. Hey, did you get anywhere with the whole poisoning thing? I talked to Ruth Venkman today and she seemed pretty upset because she thought she might be in trouble for not telling the police her story,” Rossie was eager to change the subject.
“I don’t think she has anything to worry about. She just seems like she’s caught up in a weird situation. I did get an interesting lead after talking with her husband though. We’ll see how that pans out. In my line of work, I realize every day how nice it is to have a relatively sane, boring life,” he shook his head.
“Must be nice,” Rossie gave him a wry grin.
“Lonely sometimes,” he tilted his head and gave her a look that made her feel suddenly hollow.
“So, thanks for stopping by, I need to get going,” she tried not to scurry, giving the attractive cop a tight smile on her way to the door.
**
After a strangely restless night, Rossalyn needed to clear her head, so she got up extra early to take Barney for a walk in the silent dark of a crisp April morning. The two of them trotted down the
porch steps, Rossie dressed appropriately for exercise in yoga pants and a hooded sweatshirt, and when they neared the end of the driveway, Barney stopped suddenly and turned toward the house, letting out a small whimper. Rossie’s scalp prickled as the dog fixated on the garage.
“What is it, boy?” she whispered, crouching down next to the dog and finding comfort in the silken texture of his ears.
Barney stood motionless, then started creeping toward the garage, head lowered.
“Is it a bunny?” Rossalyn whispered, hoping.
She stared in the direction of the hound’s gaze and could’ve sworn that she saw a shadow move between the garage and the house, but then recognized that she was probably just spooked by Barney’s odd behavior. The hound’s creeping turned into a trot, nose to the ground. He led her to the back and sniffed all around behind the garage, apparently following a trail that led to just under the kitchen window. When he got there, Barney just sat down and looked up at Rossalyn as though he expected her to do something. Knowing that she couldn’t see well enough in the pre-dawn light, she promised him that she’d come back and check under the window later, then tugged on his leash a bit to get him to follow her back down the driveway for their walk. Barney glanced back over his shoulder and wagged his tail slowly for a moment before trotting obediently alongside his new human.
Whatever had caught the hound’s attention hadn’t scared him a bit, and by the time they had rounded the corner of their first block, Rossie was so preoccupied with other things that she didn’t give the strange non-encounter another thought. In his room, thirteen year old Ryan Channing woke from a dream that he couldn’t remember, but which compelled him to go to his window to peer out into the semi-darkness before dawn, where he saw a dark figure slipping down the alley behind their house and disappearing.
**
Rossie walked briskly with Barney at her side, her head down, mulling over life and how strange it could be sometimes, only vaguely conscious of the world around her. She nearly jumped right out of her skin when Tom Hundman’s voice broke through her fog of introspection.
“Most people don’t take dogs on their walk of shame,” the bearded biker drawled, leaning against his porch railing, arms crossed.
“Oh! Gosh, you scared me,” Rossalyn exhaled, her heart beating a mile a minute. “What did you say?”
Tom stared at her smirking. “I said, most people don’t take their dogs on a walk of shame.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” she frowned.
“Wow, so you didn’t even know that your cop slipped out the back way this morning after spending the night?”
“What are you talking about? No one spent the night at my house last night,” white-hot anger shot through her veins when she realized what Tom was insinuating, and her nostrils flared.
“Oh really? Then that was just the paperboy sneaking around in your back yard? Come on Rossalyn, be an adult, I’m not blind. I know what I saw,” the biker raised an eyebrow at her.
She was about to shout an appropriately incensed response when realization slammed into her like a sledgehammer.
“The bunny,” she mumbled to herself, putting two and two together.
Now it was Tom’s turn to be confused. He stood staring at her, his skepticism evident.
“Barney scented something this morning when we came outside for our walk. He sniffed around behind the garage and acted like he was following a trail, but then he stopped under the kitchen window,” she remembered. “I wonder if he smelled what you saw,” her eyes went wide, her anger dissipating in the face of the realization that there might have been an intruder in her back yard.
Tom’s eyes narrowed. “So the cop didn’t spend the night?”
“No, he talked to me in the driveway for like ten minutes and then Rye and I watched a movie,” she shivered, feeling suddenly chilled, despite the exertion of her brisk walk. “Did you get a good look at whoever was back there?”
“No,” was the quiet reply. “Just saw that it was a guy. Tall, broad shoulders…it was dark,” he admitted. “I made some assumptions.”
“I’ll say you did,” Rossie glared at him. “Now who’s judging whom?”
Tom’s expression had been contrite, but Rossalyn’s words and tone caused his cobalt eyes to harden like diamonds. “Don’t feel too good, does it?” he said quietly, then turned to go inside, leaving Rossie standing on the sidewalk, feeling very much alone.
CHAPTER NINE
*
Carissa Mooney was making the most of her day off. Today was a yearly mandatory testing day, so the gym teachers weren’t needed, and she planned on relaxing and doing whatever she wanted with her rare taste of freedom. So far, she’d started out the morning with yoga, and had whipped up a homemade smoothie for breakfast. After showering and dressing in comfy jeans and a tshirt, she gave herself a pedicure and had just begun taking the polish off of her fingernails for a manicure when her doorbell rang.
“Great,” she sighed. “I guess a day to myself really is too much to ask for.”
The look on her face when she opened the door changed from annoyance to surprise when she saw Officer Morgan Tyler on her heavily bristled doormat.
“Oh, hello,” she gave him a half smile, eyebrows raised.
“Ms. Mooney?” Morgan didn’t return her smile.
“Yes?”
“I’m Officer Morgan Tyler with Chatsworth PD. I’m investigating the death of Deedee Delario, may I come in?”
“Umm…yeah, sure, but I’m afraid that I didn’t know Deedee Delario,” Carissa was confused.
“Not at all?” Morgan asked, following her to the kitchen table.
Carissa recapped her nail polish remover, threw a couple of sodden, polish-tinted cotton balls in the trash, and sat down across from him. “Nope, the first time I ever heard of her was when I saw the article in the newspaper.”
“What about Howard Parker? Are you acquainted with him?”
The woman’s eyes went cold, and a shudder of terror passed through her. “Oh boy, what did he do now?”
“Are you aware of a series of communications that he had with your coworker, Marvin Venkman?”
“You mean the threatening letters?” she asked guilelessly.
“So you’re aware of them?” Morgan concealed his surprise.
“Yes, Marvin mentioned them. It really didn’t surprise me that Howard did that. He has a wicked temper, I had to get a restraining order on him when we broke up.”
“Do you think that he’d ever follow through with the things that he threatened in the letters?”
“Well, I would hope not, but if he’s mad…you just never know,” she shrugged.
“Can you characterize the nature of your relationship with Marvin Venkman?”
“Sure, we’re coworkers, and friends.”
“Nothing more serious than that?”
“No, not at all. We have lunch together occasionally, to vent about work, but that’s it.”
“So, why do you suppose Mr. Parker chose to threaten Mr. Venkman and his wife?”
“Oh, he didn’t threaten Ruth, just Marvin. At least that’s what Marvin said when he got the letters.”
“How many letters did Mr. Venkman mention having received?”
“Umm…I think it was two, but I can’t be sure.”
“I see,” Morgan nodded.
Howard Parker had only admitted to sending two letters, but Marvin Venkman had shown the officer five letters total. Assuming that Howard was telling the truth…where had the other three letters come from? Was there more than one person making threats? And if so, why?
“Are you acquainted with Ronnie Delario by any chance?” Tyler asked casually.
“Sure,” she nodded. “He sometimes makes deliveries to the school. He unloads boxes and stuff I think.”
“Have you ever been…involved with Mr. Delario?”
Carissa snorted. “Heck no! I’m a gym teacher and he’s an older guy who isn’
t exactly in great shape. You look like a guy who works out though,” her glance roved over Morgan from head to toe, looking as though she were mentally measuring his body fat.
“To your knowledge, did Mr. Parker and Mr. Delario know each other?” Morgan intentionally ignored the comment.
“I have no idea. Howard never mentioned him.”
“Have you ever spoken with Mrs. Venkman?”
“Just once. Marvin brought her to a faculty get-together. She seemed nice. Really quiet.”
“Has Mr. Parker contacted you recently?”
“No, he’s actually being a good boy and abiding by the protection order.”
“That surprises you?”
“Yeah, he can do some pretty stupid things when he gets mad,” she pursed her lips.
Morgan pushed back his chair and stood to go, handing her a card. “Please contact me if you hear from him.”
“Sure. You think he’s gonna do something?” her eyes rounded with fear.
“I’d just be vigilant,” the officer said noncommittally.
“Okay, thanks,” she sighed.
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Mooney.”
CHAPTER TEN
*
Rossalyn Channing blinked blearily, realizing with a sigh that nothing could remove the sand-like feeling beneath her eyelids, other than sleep. Ever since she’d realized that someone had been in her back yard, and had gone out to verify that the grass under the kitchen window was smashed down by rather large footprints, she’d hardly slept a wink. As random as adopting a stray dog had been, she was more than thankful for Barney’s placid presence. If nothing else, he would alert her to any strangers that might be lurking about.
“All I wanted was to start a new life in a place where Rye and I would be safe. Is that just too much to ask?” she muttered, pouring coffee into a travel mug to take to work with her.
She also chewed Morgan Tyler’s dinner invitation over and over in her mind, not knowing how to feel about it. On the one hand, he was a smart, handsome and seemingly a very nice guy, but even considering going out with him seemed terribly disloyal to Will. He hadn’t been gone a year yet, it was close, but not yet, and she was still grieving, despite the fact that she was moving forward with her life. It wouldn’t be fair to him to start seeing someone…would it? She also considered the fact that, while she found Morgan Tyler to be a very good-looking man, she’d never been attracted to him, but wondered if that was because she was still blinded by her love for her late husband. Then there was also the reality that he’d mistakenly led her to believe that her neighbor Tom Hundman might be a murderer, which she still felt bad about, despite the fact that the bear-like biker had seemed to have decided that she wasn’t worth speaking to.
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