Toni Donovan Mysteries- Books 1-3

by Helen Gray

  There was little other activity in the courtyard or parking lot. When a car cruised slowly past the complex, her muscles tightened. As it came even with her line of vision and she saw that it was blue, the tension ebbed from her. With a sigh she turned and went to her room.

  Just as she was crawling into bed, her phone rang. She grabbed it from the night stand.

  “How’s my girl?” Kyle asked.

  “Missing you,” she said wistfully. “How are you?”

  “Let’s talk about you first. How is your class turning out?”

  “It’s been a good experience, and I think the students have done well, but I’m ready for it to end. I miss you and the boys, and I prefer my own job.”

  “I know Kara appreciates you pinch hitting for her.”

  “It’s been fun spending time with her, too.”

  Toni pushed herself up against the headboard of the bed. It was good to hear from him and know he was all right. She was being careful not to be the one to bring up the subject of his job. She didn’t want to pressure him.

  “Have the police arrested anyone yet?”

  Toni sighed. “No. It looks like it’s not going to be solved before I leave here, if ever.”

  “I hear the disappointment in your voice. Has Quint been taking good care of you this week?”

  “He fed me steak this evening. I’ve enjoyed the time with him.”

  They talked a few more minutes about inconsequential things, neither of them broaching the subject hovering between them.

  “I tried to call you Monday night and again last night,” she said when they seemed to wind down. “I was starting to get concerned about you.”

  There was a moment of silence. “I’ve been really busy. I worked some extra hours so I can get home early this week. It looks like I can make it in by tomorrow night and bring the boys up Friday morning.”

  “Have you talked to them this week?”

  “No, I’ve been on the move and…preoccupied. I’ll give them a ring next.”

  “Good. Gabe called me the first of the week to tell me that Garrett was worrying him.”

  “He must have been dreaming again if it upset Gabe enough to call you. What was he doing or saying?”

  “Gabe said he was hard to understand, but it sounded like he said ‘watch the black car’.”

  After a slight pause, he asked, “What significance have you attached to it?”

  Toni attempted to keep her tone light. “It has made me think a time or two that I was being followed by a black car. But I’m being careful,” she hastened to assure him.

  “Toni, I don’t want you taking any chances. If there’s even a possibility you’re being followed, don’t leave the apartment.”

  “I have to go to school,” she reminded him. “But don’t worry. John has been following me to school in the morning and meeting me after class.”

  “Good.”

  There was another pause. “Toni, I know I should have called you back before this,” he finally said. “But I really have been busy—and thinking. I didn’t call because I’m still not sure what to say to you.”

  “It’s all right,” she said quietly. “You have a lot on your mind, and it’s too important a decision to rush.”

  “I’m exploring the alternatives,” he continued. “But I don’t want to make a decision until I’ve finished my research.” His words ground to a halt.

  “Why don’t you call the boys and chat with them awhile?” she suggested. “I bet that will make you feel better.”

  “I will.”

  When they ended the call, Toni turned off the light and snuggled down. But she slept fitfully.

  Big yellow eyes followed her everywhere, watching her every move. She tried to outrun them. She tried to hide from them. But they dogged her everywhere.

  She was in the van, sailing down Kansas Expressway, when suddenly the eyes zoomed up behind her, and she realized that it was the headlights of a black car. Terrified, she slammed the accelerator to the floor and shot forward. But she couldn’t outrun it.

  Toni woke with her heart pounding and her skin clammy. It took her several moments to get oriented and look at the glowing numbers on the digital clock. Six o’clock. She peeked out the window and saw a man carrying a black lunch box getting into a battered pickup. The working world was up and about.

  She gazed up at the skyline. The sun was making its morning climb, but it looked like there might be some light puffy clouds drifting from the south. Hopefully they would bring the needed rain, but she wasn’t too optimistic about it.

  Donning her robe, Toni went to the kitchen and found Quint leaning against the counter with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He was barefoot and wearing faded jeans and a tee shirt. She halted in the doorway.

  He set the mug down. “I decided to get up and see you off to school. I have coffee and cinnamon toast made. Care for some?”

  “Sounds great.” She took a seat at his table.

  “Can you join us and Kyle’s family for barbecue tomorrow?” she asked as they both nibbled at their toast.

  “What time?”

  “I think they plan to eat around two.”

  “I have to work tomorrow night, but I could stop by and mooch a free meal before reporting for duty.”

  “I’d better get going.” She drained her cup and stood.

  Minutes later Toni left the apartment and found John waiting in the parking lot. As she watched him follow her up the street, a sense of foreboding washed through her. She gave her shoulders a shake, as if she could physically dispel it. It didn’t work.

  *

  By the time final exams were about finished, Toni was gripped by a mixture of relief at having completed a challenging task, and something like withdrawal pains. This summer teaching experience had been different from her regular job—less discipline, more in-depth and longer assignments—but about equal in paperwork.

  Most of the students had turned in their exams and left the room well before the allotted time expired. Nicole Warren waited until last to say a private good-bye. With tears in her eyes, she thanked Toni for the class and promised to keep in touch.

  When everyone was gone, Toni looked around the empty room and felt a bit sad that she would probably never see it again. But it was time to move on. She tackled the grading, and then averaged all of them. That done, she made sure all equipment, materials, and models were tucked into their proper storage places and all the tables wiped.

  She picked up a protective drape and approached the skeleton in the corner of the room. “Well, Mr. Bones, let’s wrap you up until your next class,” she said to the inanimate model. “You’ve been very cooperative and helpful.”

  She started to pull the drape over it, but paused. Tipping her head to one side, she asked whimsically, “So what’s your opinion, Mr. Bones? Do you think the police are going to find the coach’s killer? Or should you and I stick around and help?”

  She paused again, as if listening to an answer. “Okay, I guess they’re on their own. I have to go, and you’re not talking.”

  “I’ll miss you,” a gruff voice said.

  Chapter 23

  Toni gasped and jumped back. Then she whirled to face Quint, who stood leaning against the door frame. Not in uniform, he looked comfortable in jeans and a white polo shirt.

  “Does Kyle know you talk to spooks?” he asked, chuckling.

  Toni shook her fist at him. “You stinking little brother. One of these days I’ll…” Her voice trailed off as images of his teasing when they were children flashed through her memory. He had been such a cute and impish little boy—and she had adored him. She still did.

  In a sudden movement, she lunged at him and planted a huge smacking kiss right on his cheek, startling him. “I’ll teach you to make fun of me.”

  As she started to kiss him again, he grabbed her hands and trapped them in front of his chest. “Hold on there, girl. If you attack me again, I won’t feed you.”

&
nbsp; Suddenly their gazes locked, and the playfulness disappeared. “You’re babysitting me,” Toni accused.

  “So?” He produced a faint grin.

  “It’s all right. You need to feel like you’re taking care of me while I’m on your turf. You’ve always had a hero complex.”

  He shrugged. “Well, you’re the only sister I have.”

  Although considerably younger than her and Bill, Quint had always been determined to do anything his older siblings could do. And he had. Toni recalld seeing him swatting baseballs with Bill and his friends when Quint was hardly big enough to hold the bat. With his big brown eyes, perpetual energy and winning nature, the older boys had let him tag along and play with them—and entertain them.

  Toni still loved him dearly, but her emotions were mixed about having him feel responsible for her. She reached up and touched his chin. “I’m a big girl. You don’t need to miss sleep and interrupt your routine because of me.”

  “Yes, I do,” he returned simply. “Kyle would have my head if I let anything happen to you. Now, are you about done in here?”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “I just have to finish putting Mr. Bones to bed.”

  Lunch was a stop at Taco Bell. By one o’clock they were at the police station. Toni parked her van next to Quint’s pickup.

  “I’ll take you to meet the chief first. We’ll see if he’ll approve my looking at the files with you along,” Quint said, meeting her at the van door. “Lieutenant Green is off today, so you don’t have to be nice to him after all.”

  “I’m not sure this is worth our time. I just keep hoping we’ll spot a missed detail,” Toni said, as Quint escorted her to the chief’s office and opened the door to peek inside.

  The man at the desk was not a big man, but it was hard to judge his height with him seated. Light brown hair was swept straight back from his forehead, and deep set eyes peered at them from behind wire rimmed glasses. He beckoned for them to enter. “What are you doing here on a day off, Nash?” he asked, his tone deep and even.

  “I’d like to introduce my sister to you,” Quint said, stepping on inside the office. Toni followed and stood at his side. “Chief, this is my sister, Toni Donovan. Toni, Chief Rick Anderson.”

  The chief stood and reached across the desk for a handshake. “Good to meet you, Toni,” he said, releasing her hand. Then his eyes sparked in recognition. “You’re the teacher whose boy found our latest murder victim.”

  Toni gave a slight nod. “I’m afraid so.”

  He resumed his seat and leaned back in the chair, “What can I do for you?” He directed the question at Quint.

  “I’m off duty, but I’d like to look at the files on that case.”

  The chief’s brows lifted slightly, and his eyes darted to Toni. “You mean you’d like her to see them.”

  “Yes.”

  His fingers tapped idly against the arm of his chair. “She came up with a couple of helpful ideas already, right?”

  Quint nodded. “That web site and the apartment.”

  The look he gave Toni was hard to read. “You think she might find something else?”

  “I don’t know,” Quint said frankly. “But I figure it can’t hurt to let her try. She’s leaving town tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” The chief reached for the phone and punched a button.

  “Pull the files on the Campbell case,” he instructed someone. “Put them on Green’s desk.”

  “You can use Green’s desk since it’s empty today,” he said when he hung up.

  Quint took Toni to the familiar office. “You use the desk,” he instructed, taking a chair in front of it.

  As she settled in the seat, an officer entered and dumped a bundle of files on the desk. “Hello, Nash,” he said, his voice not exactly warm. “What makes you think you can do better than the people who are trained for this kind of work?”

  “I don’t,” Quint returned easily. “My sister here is a scientist, and surely another brain couldn’t hurt. Toni, this is detective Boyd Wagoner.”

  The man gave her a skeptical glare. “Don’t get anything mixed up,” he snapped before leaving the room.

  Toni ran two fingers across her brow in a gesture of relief. “I don’t think that one’s happy.”

  Quint shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. That one’s never happy. Dig in.”

  Toni picked up the files. There were five of them, a huge one on Jesse Campbell, smaller ones on Sonya Finch, Vince Harcourt, Dean Patrick, and Mitch Sandoval. She looked up at Quint. “You want one?”

  “I think I’ll let you do the work.” He eased back in the chair, his legs extended and feet crossed. Then he pulled out his cell phone and began composing a text.

  Toni started through the files, skimming to get an idea what was in them. There were copies of detectives’ reports, with written memos regarding interviews with each of the suspects. When she finished the overview, she went back and began to read in detail the items that interested her the most.

  In Sonya’s file she zeroed in on the phone bill that had been methodically checked and color coded. Calls to one number were highlighted in yellow, another in pink, and some in lime green. A key at the top indicated that calls to Mitch Sandoval were in yellow, ones in green were designated as Dean Patrick, and the pink ones were Corey Franklin. She counted twenty-two made to Mitch, only eight to Dean, and two to Corey. Mitch apparently was Sonya’s main man, probably a lover as well as a business associate. All the calls had occurred within the last two and a half weeks—since Campbell’s death.

  She checked the bills in the other files and did a comparison. All three guys had called Sonya—Mitch several times, Dean and Corey only once each. There was no question that those four were connected, but the police already knew that.

  Toni put the phone bills aside to examine the credit card bills in each file. They showed the normal charges—gas, groceries, restaurants. Nothing looked revealing, which didn’t surprise her, since she knew that it was illegal for credit card companies to accept charges for online gambling.

  A bundle of printouts with a label indicating they were from Sonya’s computer were more interesting. The first sheets were a list with a heading that said RECEIVABLES-OVERDUE. Toni assumed these money amounts had to be gambling debts owed to Campbell.

  She was amazed at the length of the list. As her eyes ran down the three pages, the names and amounts boggled her mind. She noted all three of Sonya’s cohorts, or whatever they were to her, on the second and third pages. Dean was only in for a couple hundred dollars, but Mitch and Corey owed over five thousand each.

  Beneath that list was a stack of correspondence that made it clear that, while Jesse ran the operation, Sonya managed the day to day functions and kept track of information related to wagers, runners, and bookies. There were even copies of letters documenting mediations involving disputes between bettors.

  After reading through them, Toni laid those files aside and opened the Campbell one. The autopsy report was on top, so she read it first. Quint had told her what was in it, but it was still interesting reading. The pathology report indicated nothing remarkable aside from the stab wounds. The time of death was judged to have been between ten p.m. and midnight. Lab tests showed a minimal amount of alcohol in the victim’s system, but no drugs or poisons. Death was due to multiple stab wounds caused by a single edged knife with a six or seven inch blade. A detective had noted on a sticky note that the knife had been found with two sets of prints on it, Sonya and an unknown. There was nothing there that Toni didn’t already know.

  The next items were the ones she had been hoping to see. A trace report on Jesse Campbell’s car stated that silver nitrate had been found on the handle of the passenger door, both inside and out. Someone had been handling film. An image of Sonya Finch snapping pictures at the Goldenrod flashed in Toni’s mind. She saw no notes indicating the detectives had made that connection.

  Sonya had been in that car. But when? If it had been the night of t
he murder, had she witnessed the murder? Committed it? That didn’t seem right. Aided the killer? That seemed more likely. The one thing Toni was growing more certain of was that, whether she had done it or not, Miss Finch knew who had done it. She had probably kept up an affair with Jesse since high school, and over time become involved in his gambling business.

  Toni placed that sheet face down on the desk and moved on to the next one. The tech portion of the report indicated that keys to the vehicle were found under the floor mats, and fibers and debris had been taken from the floorboard.

  She paused to ponder. Why were the keys still in the car? Jesse surely wouldn’t have left them there if the car had been unoccupied. Someone—Sonya was Toni’s guess—had been with him. She began to visualize a scenario. Jesse had slipped the keys under the mat and walked across the park to meet someone, not feeling threatened. His passenger must not have noticed him putting them there. When Jesse didn’t return, the passenger went to look for him—and witnessed the killing. Whatever the reasoning, the knife had been removed from the crime scene.

  That reason suddenly became clear to Toni. Sonya had been looking for the car keys, thinking they were in Jesse’s pocket. When she didn’t find the keys, she took the knife. Then she left. But how did she get home? She must have called someone to come get her. Toni thought it had to be one of those three young men.

  She dropped that sheet and shuffled back to Sonya’s phone bill. When she located it, she ran her finger down to the date of the murder. Then she moved down to the time that would have coincided. There it was. At ten-thirty-seven, Sonya had made a call to Mitch Sandoval.

  Feeling pleased at that little discovery, Toni went back to the reports and resumed reading the remaining interview notes and memos. When she finished, she picked up the bundle of photographs. There were shots of the body and crime scene, taken from every angle. Since she had been present at the scene, the pictures were not shocking to her.