by Ann Simas
“No. Edgerton’s too small. I’ve lived here my entire life. I’d have to step down on half the cases I supervise, if just knowing someone were grounds for recusal.”
“That’s a relief,” Andi said, “because if you know Denise, that will give you the perfect inside track to warn her.”
“I agree she needs to be warned,” Stacy said, “but I can’t just go over and say, ‘Clem just spilled his guts to a woman who hears the dead and told her he hired someone to kill you because he thought you were having an affair,’ now can I?”
Andi shrugged. “When you put it that way, it sounds very Ghost Whisper-ish. On the other hand, people who are grieving are often more likely to accept what I hear.”
Stacy gave her an incredulous look. “You mean Vaughn Hemmer and the Spences?”
“That’s one example,” Andi said.
“You have others?”
“Well, um, no, but I’d be willing to bet Denise will believe you if you give it to her straight.”
“I’m more inclined to think she’ll believe me more if I tell her I’ve heard chatter that her husband put a contract out on her because he thought she was cheating on him.”
“OMG!” Andi said, as a thought occurred to her. “I never asked Clem if he’d told anyone what he planned to do. What if he did? That might help us track who the hitman is.”
Stacy narrowed her eyes on Andi. “Before you go any further, tell me what the error is in that comment you just made.”
Andi chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking. “Clem wouldn’t have told anyone what he was doing?”
“Wrong. You used the word us, as in might help us track the hitman.”
“I didn’t mean that literally,” Andi said in her own defense.
“Right,” Stacy said, though her tone was anything but agreeable. “Look, Andi, you’ve got a fine mind. You’re organized, thoughtful, and insightful. Hell, if you ever decide to change careers, I’d love to have you investigating cases for me, but right now, you write game apps.” She leveled a stern expression at the game-app writer. “You don’t work for EPD. I appreciate that when you hear something untoward from a Smokie, you bring it to the police, but you can’t go getting involved again, like you did on the Hemmer case.”
Father Riley reached over and gave Andi’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Andi understands what you’re saying, Lieutenant, but she is the one who initially gets the information. You can’t just expect her to hand it over then stand back, waiting to see if it gets resolved satisfactorily.”
The LT’s demeanor grew even more grim. “Actually, I can.”
He tapped his copy of Andi’s notes. “You wouldn’t have one iota of information about this if Andi hadn’t done a mini-interrogation on Clem. He’s stuck in Limbo Land forever if there’s no resolution in sight, so he will be back and she can try to get more out of him.”
Father Riley paused for effect, which Andi had always found to be one of his more effective skills.
He went on. “Will you be able to do that?”
The LT frowned at the priest, though it seemed to be more as a result of her internal struggle than any displeasure she had with him.
“Vaughn Hemmer knew Clem,” Andi inserted. “He said he went to his service, too. He asked me if Clem had stopped by to chat on his way to…wherever.” She still wasn’t sure Naylor would be headed to Heaven. “Vaughn told me if I’d like to pick his brain about Clem, feel free.”
“I saw him at the service. In fact, we spoke briefly.” Stacy drummed her fingertips against the stapled notes, obviously thinking. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen.” She rolled her eyes skyward. “And God help me if I’m making a big mistake.”
“You’re not,” Father Riley said.
Since Stacy hadn’t yet outlined her plans, Andi had no idea how he could be so certain.
. . .
Father Riley booted up his laptop and they logged into Clem’s account on the hitman-for-hire website using his password. From there, they poured over the information, item by item. Not only could a person choose the method of death, but the date and time, as well, which coincided with Clem’s statement to Andi. What surprised them was that the questionnaire was set up something like a multiple choice test, with second options available in some instances.
“I’ll get our IT people on this, see if they can trace the IP address and find out who hosts this site,” Stacy said.
“Since Clem read about a hitman site on the FBI webpage initially, let’s see if we can find the article. Maybe someone at the FBI can provide us with some helpful information.” Andi’s fingers flew over the keyboard typing in hitman for hire. The article she sought was second up. “Here you go.” She read off the agent’s name and contact info to Stacy, who wrote it down in a small notebook.
“Brilliant, Andi. I take it back. Either quit Orion’s Belt and come work for me tomorrow, or stop using plural pronouns.”
Andi pretended to think about it. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay where I am for the time being…and I promise I’ll try not to say ‘we’ or ‘us’ again.”
The LT shook her head, as if to say, I’ll bet.
Father Riley shot Andi a wry grin. “The Belt probably pays better, anyway.”
“Maybe so, but the worst would be, if I went to work for Stacy, I’d have to quit dating Jack and that’s not something I’m willing to do.” She glanced at Stacy. “Sorry.”
The LT laughed. “Don’t be, I get your point. Let’s move on.”
Next, Andi inserted the liquidator hitman into Google. The task of sorting through the multitude of listings about both the movie and the merchandise-liquidation TV series was laborious, but it netted several items about various law enforcement agencies searching for the paid killer. In one, they discovered he’d come close to being caught and had left behind what might be his weapon of choice, The Hitman's Heatmaker, a level-one sniper rifle.
“Sloppy,” Stacy commented. “When you talk to Clem again, try to pin him down on the exact choices he made on the questionnaire. Maybe we can get a lead on The Liquidator somehow with that information.”
Andi added a note on her new to-do list to print out the hitman form when she got home.
“What about making contact with some of the people who’ve been imprisoned after hiring the hitman?” Father Riley suggested. “We’ve come across two or three here in the Northwest alone.”
“That could be an option,” Stacy said.
“I volunteer to speak to them,” the priest went on. He glanced at Andi and grinned. “I could reprise my author persona and say I’m writing a book about hitmen.”
Andi grinned, remembering how she’d made up the author story so she could get information out of her dentist that would help trap Sherry’s killer. “Worked before.”
“Like a charm,” Father Riley agreed.
“You two make a great mutual admiration society,” the LT commented, her tone dry.
Andi and her cohort in crime-fighting both laughed.
“Moving on,” Stacy said, “and please note that I did not say you couldn’t pursue that lead.”
Score one for their team. “Shall I talk to Vaughn?” Andi asked.
“Ordinarily, I’d say no, but since Vaughn already knows you hear dead people, I’ll agree to it. Just remember to advise him that this must remain confidential.”
“I trust him,” Andi said, “and I think after our conversation, he’s probably been mulling over the changes he mentioned in Clem. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Clem will have said something to him that will help us.” She didn’t actually believe that was going to happen, but a girl needed to stay positive, didn’t she?
Stacy seemed entranced by the pen she tapped against her notebook. She glanced up at Father Riley. “You’ve already spoken with Avery about the autopsy, right?”
“Yes, he confirmed it was an aneurism.”
“And he did a tox screen?”
“As a matter of course, but he doesn’t
expect results back for a couple of weeks.”
Stacy jotted something in her notebook. “I’ll see if I can get a rush on it. We want to make sure wifey didn’t poison him or something because she found out he was planning to off her.”
“You don’t really think that,” Andi said, startled.
“No, but when you’re a cop, everyone is a suspect until they’re not, every rock must be turned over, and every scenario considered. Don’t for a minute think that no one has ever retaliated in advance of being killed themselves. Yes, they’d be further ahead if they just came to the police, but some people don’t think that way.”
Andi hoped for the sake of the LT’s sister’s friendship with Denise Naylor, that wasn’t the case.
Father Riley shook his head. “It’s a sad world we live in sometimes.”
“Amen to that,” Stacy said. She ran her finger down her notes, then tapped the page with her index finger and closed the notebook. “Everyone has their assignments. I’ll expect to be kept apprised of progress at every step. Jack will be back on Sunday, and on Monday, he’ll be in interrogation for part of the day. When he’s free, he’ll be on this case with you.” She slipped the notebook back into her purse. “At worst, we only have until next Wednesday. At best, we have twelve days from next Wednesday. Let’s get this bastard by Tuesday.”
That left five days to find and stop the killer. Andi admired the LT’s determination, but she didn’t hold out much hope they’d be able to find The Liquidator by then. “Haven’t you forgotten one thing?”
Stacy arched an eyebrow at her.
“When are we going to talk to Denise?”
“There you go with a plural pronoun again.”
“More plural than you know,” Andi admitted. “I think Vaughn should be there when we talk to her.”
Stacy pushed away from the kitchen table and stood. “I’ll call her tomorrow and try to set up a time in the evening. That should work for everyone’s schedule.”
“Perfect. I’ll pay Vaughn a visit before then.”
“You seem so sure he’ll be willing to get involved.”
“He will,” Father Riley said, his eyes on Andi. “Our girl instills not only trust, but faith in those with whom she comes in contact.” He turned his gaze on Stacy. “You and I, case in point.”
The LT responded with a small smile of agreement.
“You give me too much credit,” Andi said.
“I think not,” the priest replied. “You’re more like Jeanne D’Arc than you realize.”
“I don’t lead men into battle,” Andi protested.
“Not in the traditional sense of battlefield, but the mighty forces of good versus evil can manifest in many ways. Yours just happens to be in the form of helping souls right wrongs so they can cross over.”
Andi would have replied, but Father Riley had effectively silenced her into deep thought.
Chapter 7
Andi decided to make an early night of it. She called Jack before she turned in, but his voice mail picked up.
“Just me,” she said. “Didn’t sleep well last night so I’m hitting the sack early. Met with Stacy and Father Riley tonight. I’ll catch you up on what’s happening tomorrow. Hope everything’s going okay for you.” She almost signed off with love you, but caught herself in time and said instead, “Miss you. ’Bye.”
She dozed off thinking about Jack and how she felt about him. She wasn’t sure yet that she did love him, but after multiple thorough examinations of her feelings, it sure as heck felt like it.
Getting a full eight hours of sleep did wonders for her disposition the next day. She went into work early again, thinking she might need to take an extra hour for her meeting with Vaughn. When eight o’clock rolled around, she called and asked if he could meet with her around noon.
“Funny coincidence. I’m going to be downtown this morning,” he said.
“Meeting with Orion?” she guessed.
“Yep. He’s definitely interested. What if I buy you lunch afterward?”
“You don’t have to do that, but I’d love to have lunch with you.”
“Great. I’ll give you a jingle when we’re done. You pick the place.”
“See you then.” No sooner had Andi disconnected than the redolence of smoke filled the air around her.
I’m going to miss the snow, Andi, but you know what? I’m not cold at all. I don’t think I’ll ever be cold again. Isn’t that wonderful?
Andi agreed that it was and then, just like that, the smell of smoke was gone. From her recent Smokie visits, she deduced that warmth was a common theme among the newly departed. She recorded the communiqué, then went back to work and made decent progress on Bunnicula for the next three hours. She got up only once to refill her coffee cup. At eleven, Brent stuck his head in the door to inquire how the vampire rabbit was faring.
“He really has his teeth in the game,” Andi responded, deadpan.
Brent laughed and went on his way.
Andi’s phone pinged. Stacy, texting to say the meet with Denise Naylor was on for six-thirty that evening. Did Andi want to join her for dinner before that? Andi texted back a yes, to which Stacy responded with the name of a restaurant on the north end of town, near where the Naylor’s house was located. Andi loved Thai food, so the choice was good by her. She sent off an OK and turned back to her computer.
The pungent odor of smoke filled the inside her office. Andi got up and closed the door, which would signify to her co-workers that she didn’t want to be disturbed.
“Hello, Clem.” She wondered why she could identify him by the scent of his smoky odor, and realized for the first time how unique it was from any other Smokies that had stopped by to chat.
I did something bad, Andi, and I don’t know how to fix it.
“I’m going to help you, remember?”
I don’t see how. At this point, it seems hopeless. I’ve put things in motion to kill my wife and I’ll be forever earthbound because of it, repenting my sin.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, Clem. Really think about them before you answer, okay? I mean it when I say I’m going to help you.”
Go ahead, but I don’t see how that’s possible.
“Did you ever mention to anyone else that you suspected Denise was having an affair?”
No.
“Don’t be so quick to answer. Not anyone? Not a good friend, or a work associate, or someone you don’t even know that well?”
This time, he didn’t answer immediately.
I might have said something to someone I met up with on the running paths.
Andi debated. Did she ask if it was Vaughn, or let Clem come up with Vaughn’s name on his own.
Clem took the decision out of her hands. It was Vaughn. He moved into our neighborhood about a year ago. He’s a big-shot software developer, or was. He sold his company and he and his wife moved here with their kids to be close to her family. How did you know?
“Vaughn’s wife, Sherry, passed by here when she was cremated. I knew her from school.”
Oh, my God! I remember now, she was murdered. After a lengthy pause, he went on. Did she tell you she’d been murdered? Is that the way this works? People fuck up in real life and in the afterlife, they come to you for help?
“Your guess is as good as mine about that,” she said. “I’ve been working in this building since last spring. Every time there’s a cremation, I smell smoke and I hear a voice. Generally, it’s just a pleasant comment or two in passing. Sherry was different, she asked me for help and I gave it to her.”
I read about the murder in the newspaper, and after that, Vaughn told me what happened, but he never mentioned your name.
“No, and that’s the way I want it. I don’t need or seek credit for any part I played in outing her killer.”
And now you want to help me the same way.
“Yes. I’m going to talk to Vaughn today and see if he has any information that you may have forgotten you gave him
.”
Good, good. I was a basket case for the last few months, Andi. I don’t remember half of what I said or did, thinking that Denise was screwing some guy on the side.
Andi decided to withhold an editorial comment about the necessity of communication in a marriage. The guy was anguished enough by his actions and a could’a-should’a-would’a reminder wouldn’t do a darned bit of good now. “I need to know about the questionnaire you completed on the hitman website.”
So, you checked it out.
“Had to. It’s all part of the helping-you package.” Andi pulled the form she’d printed out from the manila folder. “You’ve already given me the dates and times you designated, but what about the method you wanted him to use? You said before that he would shoot her.”
I didn’t want Denise to suffer. No matter how badly she’d deceived me, I didn’t want her to experience pain.
Andi thought that rather hypocritical and oxymoronic, but didn’t say so. She forgot that he seemed to be privy to her thoughts.
I know it doesn’t make sense to you, Andi, but I still love my wife, even though I thought she’d cheated on me. I never understood that old saying before, that you have to love someone to be able to hate them, but I do now. Hate makes you crazy. It makes you do things you wouldn’t do ordinarily. It makes you say things you can’t take back.
Andi got off track for a moment. “Does that mean you said something to Denise that you regret?”
The day I died, I told her I knew what she’d been doing and I was going to make her sorry.
“Did you mention outright that you thought she was having an affair?”
No. She had this shocked look on her face, like I’d betrayed her somehow, and then she started crying. My wife is a strong woman, Andi. I don’t think I saw her cry more than once or twice in all the years we were married. It nearly destroyed me. In fact, if I hadn’t been filled with such a hateful rage toward her, I might have done something bad to myself for hurting her.
“Easy to say now,” Andi said, uncaring that she had no sympathy for how his actions had affected him.
