Toni Donovan Mysteries- Books 1-3

by Helen Gray

  They just laughed.

  “I hope you catch that man’s killer before you finish your class and go home for good,” Garrett said, his small face creased with concern.

  “I’m not supposed to be the one figuring that out,” Toni reminded him.

  He shrugged. “But you can, so you should.”

  His childlike logic and faith in her was touching. “You really think so, huh?”

  His head bobbed.

  “Okay, I guess I’ll go look at some stuff on the computer.” She uncurled her legs and eased off the bed. “Come tell me good night when you’re ready for bed.”

  A couple of minutes later, while the computer booted, Toni sat studying what she had printed from Campbell’s files. One of the lists of addresses struck her as being Springfield streets. She didn’t live here, but she had spent quite a bit of time navigating those streets and knew her way around pretty well. One of the addresses was on Glenstone, clearly a Springfield thoroughfare.

  She put that list aside and studied the other two. Neither of them had anything familiar. Since Campbell had lived in Ozark, she got out the Ozark street map she had printed when checking how to find Mrs. Campbell. It didn’t take long for one of the lists to correlate. All of the streets were there.

  She stared at the third list, thinking. Suddenly she remembered Nicole saying she had been in Campbell’s class in Branson. She went to the computer and located a street map of Branson. Each street name on the list was there. She labeled each list and printed the Branson map.

  *

  Wednesday morning Toni crawled out of bed and called Jenny first thing. When she got no answer, she figured Jenny was still at the hospital where she couldn’t use her cell phone. She called the hospital and asked to be connected to John’s room. She was about to hang up on the sixth ring when he answered. “Zachary here.” He sounded short of breath.

  “Toni here,” she echoed his breathless manner. “How are you feeling?”

  “About how you would expect,” he said, speaking clearer now. “I’m getting dressed, and having an arm in a cast isn’t helping. I’m being dismissed, and Jenny’s going to chauffeur me to class.”

  “Do you need me to pick you up afterward?” Toni assumed Jenny needed to get back to Clearmount. As for herself, she had lab until one o’clock today, and John finished class at noon. Maybe Barb or Dan could get him for her.

  “No,” he interrupted her thoughts. “Jenny is going to stay here until I finish class tomorrow and drive us home for the weekend in her car. That means I’ll need to hitch a ride back up here with you Sunday afternoon. By then I should be able to drive with this cast.”

  “Your company would be welcome. You know that,” she assured him.

  When they disconnected, Toni felt better. By seven-thirty she had dressed, eaten a bowl of cereal with her in-laws, packed herself a sandwich, and headed for class. The hoped-for rain had not materialized, and the day was another hot, dry one.

  “Forty-five percent of the blood in females is red,” she lectured the class, speaking of packed red blood cells. “In males, fifty-five percent is red.”

  Nicole Warren’s hand shot up. “So is a midget’s blood only about twenty percent?” she asked when Toni acknowledged her.

  The room went silent, and then someone snickered.

  “Oh, duh!” Nicole groaned, covering her eyes with a hand. “I can’t believe I asked that.”

  Toni couldn’t either. Nicole was a good student. “We all get ahead of our brains once in a while,” she said with a grin, struggling to not laugh. “Now we know you’re human.”

  By one o’clock Toni was tired and hungry. She bought a soda from the vending machine and ate her sandwich while putting the classroom in order for the next day.

  When she left the building, she called Gabe and told him she needed to run some errands and wasn’t sure what time she would be home.

  “Go look for the bad guy,” he said matter-of-factly, knowing her so well it was scary. “We’ll ask Grandpa to set up the sprinkler so we can play outside in the water.” He disconnected.

  Toni laughed and muttered, “Sounds like they have plans and won’t miss me.”

  When she was in the van Toni pulled out her list and street map for Ozark. Noting that two of the addresses were only a few blocks apart, she decided to start with them.

  She exited the highway at the Ozark turnoff and drove into the residential area where she thought she needed to be. The streets were lined with trees, the homes large, modern, and immaculately landscaped and maintained. She found the street she was looking for, and then the house number. A high wooden fence across the backyard made her think there was probably a pool back there. She parked on the street, made her way up the walk to the wide porch that ran across the front of the house, and rang the bell.

  The woman who came to the door was polished and somewhat haughty looking—definitely a high maintenance lady. She wore an expensive designer dress and shoes, her hair was carefully highlighted, and her makeup professionally applied.

  “May I speak to Mr. Vince Harcourt?” Toni asked, wondering if the woman’s husband was as intimidating as her.

  The woman directed a visual inspection that approached disdain over Toni. “What do you want with him?”

  “I want to talk to him about. . .”

  Just then a young man came striding through the doorway behind the woman. “Is that for me, Mother?”

  “It’s some woman asking for you.” She continued to stand in the doorway, like a barricade between her son and a potential threat.

  The young man, who appeared to be no more than seventeen or eighteen, took his mother’s arm and edged his way between her and the doorway. He wore a monogrammed polo shirt, pristine Dockers, and shiny loafers. His dark brown hair was fashionably long, and he had wide shoulders and a tall lean body. Toni’s instant impression was one of affluence and a young man who knew just how good-looking he was.

  Scowling, his eyes raked over her. “Hello,” he said cautiously. “What do you want?”

  “Uh, I’m a recruiter for Missouri State University,” she improvised hurriedly. A kid was the last thing she had been expecting. “I have a list of names Coach Campbell was recommending for scholarships, and I’m checking around to see if his recommended players are still interested or have made other plans.” It was lame, but she was deducing that the athletic looking young man was involved in school sports.

  His faint smile held a touch of arrogance. He took a swig from the plastic bottle of water he carried. “MSU was one of the schools Coach thought I should consider.”

  “So I can still consider you a candidate,” Toni said in a manner she hoped fit her assumed role.

  “I guess so,” he allowed. “But with Coach gone, I have to see how this season goes.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll keep us in your radar,” she said, anxious to get away from there before she dug a deeper hole for herself.

  “Too bad he’s dead,” the young man said, not sounding overly grieved. His attitude struck her more as one of being personally inconvenienced.

  “I’ll keep your name on the list,” she said. “Thank you for your time.”

  As she walked away, Toni felt two pairs of eyes boring into her back. She didn’t waste any time scrambling into her van and driving away. She now suspected that all the names on that list—and maybe all the lists—were teenage students. But she wanted to be certain. She drove around until she found the next address. The house was older than where she had just been, but it still spoke of affluence.

  This time she was not surprised when a middle-aged woman answered the doorbell. She was tall and thin, almost to the point of gauntness. Her sallow skin and lank brown hair spoke of illness. “Yes? May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Mr. Tim Rutherford,” she said politely.

  The woman shook her head. “He’s out with a friend right now. I have no idea where they are, or when he’ll be home.”

  “T
hat’s all right. I’ll get back to him later.”

  “May I tell him who’s looking for him?”

  “Tell him the recruiter from SMU,” she said briefly. “Thank you for your time.” She turned and hurried back to her van.

  Toni was satisfied that Tim was another teen, but she decided to make one more stop. She pulled to the curb a few blocks up the street and studied her map. It looked like someone by the name of Dean Patrick lived only a few blocks from there. She put the van back into motion.

  At this address she had her story ready for another mother, but a boy answered the doorbell. He looked even younger than the first young man. About five foot nine, he had a stocky build. His eyes were dark, his hair a little too long and stringy. The crotch of his pants hung nearly to his knees, and his long tailed tee shirt hung outside the pants. He sported a sparse goatee on his chin. Behind him, a television blared rock music.

  “Whatcha want?” the kid asked flippantly.

  “I’m looking for Mr. Dean Patrick,” she said.

  “Who’s that, Dean?” a woman called from the next room.

  “It’s for me, Mom,” he called back.

  “Okay,” she answered.

  The young man stepped out onto the porch, as if he didn’t want his mother to overhear.

  Toni repeated her recruiter spiel, and then asked, “What year of school are you in now?” She wanted to ask him why his name was on a list of kids who appeared to be getting money from their coach, but she didn’t think she would get a straight answer. And it might alert him if there was something crooked going on.

  “I’m just a sophomore,” he said. “So I’m surprised to hear I’m already on your list. Guess I’m better than I thought if you’re already looking at me.”

  Toni took a deep breath. “Your coach must have thought a lot of you. How many years have you played for him?”

  “Just this past year,” he said. “We moved here last summer just before school started. I was nervous about trying out for the team, but I’m glad I did. I was a guard and got quite a bit of playing time. I also made first string catcher for the baseball team.”

  “Your teams had a good year, right?”

  He grinned, slapping his right fist into his open left palm. “We sure did. Our basketball team won our district, and I won the conference gold glove in baseball.”

  “How long was Coach Campbell with the district?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I think this was his third season here. Why?”

  “I was just thinking he must have been a pretty good coach,” she evaded. She had hoped to get the boy to say something that would give her a clue as to why Campbell was keeping track of payments to a bunch of kids. “Were you close to your coach?”

  “Both my coaches,” he clarified. “I played baseball for Coach Jolson and basketball for Coach Campbell.”

  “Did you ever wash his car or do odd jobs for Coach Campbell?”

  He gave her a look of suspicion. “Naw, I’m too lazy to do stuff like that,” he laughed it off.

  He wasn’t going to clear up anything for her. “Well, thanks for talking to me. I’ll keep your name on the list.”

  Once in the van, Toni looked back at the house and saw Dean still standing on the porch, watching her. She drove away, more positive than ever that something was wrong about all this. Those boys were being paid money. But for what? The possibilities made her blood boil.

  She glanced at her watch. It was only two-thirty. She had time to talk to Mrs. Campbell again. She drove to the Excelsior Gardens apartments and parked in front of the Campbell unit. Young children frolicked on the playground equipment nearby, their mothers sitting on a bench keeping watch over them. Toni marched to the door and rang the bell.

  When the door opened a crack, Sheila Campbell’s wan face stared across the chain at her. “You’re back?” The tone wasn’t outright hostile, but it wasn’t welcoming.

  “I was in the area and thought I’d drop by and see if you’ve had any luck finding my friend’s flash drive,” Toni said, trying to strike a tone that would gain the woman’s confidence.

  Sheila seemed to wrestle with herself for a moment. Then she slid the chain from its latch and opened the door. But she didn’t invite her inside. “I didn’t find it,” she said flatly.

  “I’m hoping you can help me figure out something.”

  A flicker of interest crossed her face. “How?”

  “Well, you’re the only person who knew that John and I were looking for his flash drive. But yesterday John was attacked and his new drive taken.”

  Sheila stared at her, and then she blinked. Her eyes traveled over Toni as she absorbed the statement. Her head shook back and forth. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Do you have any idea who else might have wanted that flash?”

  Sheila bit down on her lower lip. “Well,” she said at last, “someone else came here looking for it. But I never dreamed he would hurt anyone.”

  “Can you tell me the name of the person?”

  The woman just stood there, as if her brain had quit functioning.

  “I need to know who it was,” Toni repeated urgently. “John is in the hospital, and I don’t want him attacked again.”

  Sheila gulped and firmed her shoulder. “It was Jesse’s bookkeeper.”

  Toni’s heart sank. He was the guy whose name Sheila couldn’t remember before. “Have you remembered his name?”

  She nodded. “When he stopped by and I saw him, I remembered. It’s Barry Kuzman. Jesse called him his scorekeeper.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

  “I’m sorry. He said Jesse was supposed to give him some important information, but it wasn’t on the flash drive he gave him. His story was sort of like yours. You both said you had the wrong drive, so I thought you would want to get them swapped back. I gave him your names. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

  Toni’s gut said the woman was innocent of harmful intent. Her husband may have been involved in something fishy, but she hadn’t known about it. “If the man returns, I hope you won’t mention this visit,” she said gently.

  “I won’t,” Sheila promised quickly.

  *

  As Toni approached her in-laws’ home, she recognized Quint’s navy pickup at the curb. When she pulled into the drive, he hopped from the truck, loped to her van, and slid into the seat beside her. He was dressed for work.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

  Surprised, Toni pulled her cell phone from her purse and checked it. It was turned off. “I guess I accidentally turned it off. Sorry. What’s so important?”

  He heaved a sigh. “I know you too well. What have you been up to?”

  “I checked on John. He was dismissed from the hospital this morning. Jenny picked him up and drove him to class. He’s really sore from the bruised ribs, and he’s fighting headaches from having his head nearly cracked open. The cast on his arm makes driving tough, if not impossible.”

  “Toni!” Quint slapped the dash with a palm. “Stop rambling and answer me. Have you been out playing detective?”

  She froze, startled by his sudden outburst. She couldn’t keep guilt from showing on her face. Feeling suddenly trapped, she jabbed the button to lower her window. Hastily gathering her wits, she faced her brother. “I went back to see the victim’s widow again.”

  “Again? Give me the whole story.”

  “Monday afternoon John and I looked her up. We explained how John and Jesse’s flash drives got mixed up and asked if she would look for John’s drive in Jesse’s things.”

  Quint’s eyes pierced her. “Did she?”

  “Yes, but she couldn’t find it. We gave her our names and phone numbers and asked her to call one of us if she found it.”

  He thought that over for a moment. “Okay, that was Monday. Then John was mugged yesterday. When you realized that, since the only thing taken from John was his new flash drive, and the widow was
the only person who knew about the accidental switch, you thought she might have talked to someone about it. You went back to ask her. How am I doing?”

  Toni gave him a wry grimace. “Pretty good.”

  He sighed. “Okay, I admit it was good thinking. What did you learn?”

  “Jesse’s accountant had been to see her. Jesse must have seen him, probably after he and John left the lab Thursday, and given him a flash drive. But it didn’t have whatever was supposed to be on it. He wanted her to find the right drive in Jesse’s things and give it to him.”

  “She told him she had already looked for it for someone else and couldn’t find it. What else did she tell you?”

  “She gave the guy our names.”

  Silence reigned for several long moments. “So John was attacked specifically for that drive and whatever was on it.”

  Toni nodded. “That’s what I think.”

  “I hope she gave you that accountant’s name.”

  Now she grinned, relaxing a bit. “She did. She couldn’t remember it when I asked her Monday, but when she saw the guy face to face, it came to her. She said Jesse called him his scorekeeper, and his name is Barry Kuzman.”

  Quint yanked out his notebook and jotted a note. “I’ll check him out when I get to the station. Now tell me where else you went. Who else did you dig up?”

  Toni took a deep breath, tense again. “I looked up some other addresses.”

  “What addresses? Where did you get them?”

  She felt his radar intensify. “From some lists,” she said vaguely.

  “What lists?”

  “Campbell was recording payments to some people. I wanted to see if I could find out what the coach was paying them for.”

  Quint shook his head, his eyes closing for a moment. “You made a copy of that drive before you gave it to me, didn’t you? I should have known. I saw those lists last night and was planning to work on them tonight.”

  “What I found was kind of weird,” she said, not denying the charge.

  He sighed in resignation. “You’re obviously one step ahead of us. What was weird?”