by Sharon Pape
I spotted Ronnie in a booth on the right, halfway back, drinking iced tea. I slid in across from her at the same time the waitress arrived to take my drink order. Service was never lagging at The Caboose; turnover was the name of the game. I ordered my strawberry shake and turned to Ronnie. My heart dropped at the bleak look in her eyes. She made an effort to paste on a smile, but it was like putting a little Band-Aid on a gash from a machete. My own smile instantly evaporated.
“Are you all right?” was the first thing to pop out of my mouth. A downright stupid question given her expression. “What’s wrong?”
“No, you first. You said you had a question.”
I thought about arguing that she should go first, but it was easier and faster to get on with it. “Jim’s file on Roger Westfield mentioned a letter he wanted Jim to give to his wife in the event of his death.”
Ronnie nodded. “It was sealed when Westfield gave it to us.”
“Do you know where Jim put it for safekeeping?”
“Ordinarily he would have put it in Westfield’s paper file, but for some reason, he shredded it.”
It was hard to keep the frustration out of my tone. “Couldn’t he have been disbarred for doing that?”
Ronnie shrugged. “As long as money isn’t involved, you’d be surprised what lawyers can get away with in this state.”
My head filled with a dozen related questions, all of which were beside the point for now. “What makes you think he shredded the letter?”
“I did all the shredding in the office—part of my job description. In fact the shredder was always right next to my desk. He hated wasting his time on it. A few months ago, I left early, forgot my glasses and had to go back in. I found Jim at my desk, feeding the letter into the shredder. I knew it was Westfield’s letter, because he’d dropped the envelope that had his wife’s name on it. He jumped six feet when he heard the door closing behind me. It’s possible he was startled, because he wasn’t expecting anyone. If I’d been in his shoes, I might have reacted the same way.”
“Did you ask him why he was shredding it?”
“Yes, and he got angry. Told me to mind my own business. In all the years I’d worked for him, he’d never spoken to me like that before.” I could tell by her voice that the incident had shaken her at the time.
“Another dead end,” I murmured with a sigh. “We’ll never know what was in that letter.”
The waitress stopped at our table to set down my shake and take our order—two cheeseburgers with fries, no onion on mine. Once we were alone again, I tried to put the letter out of my thoughts and listen to what was on Ronnie’s mind.
“Here it is,” she said, punctuating the words with a heavy sigh. “When I told you about Duggan calling me down to the police station again, it wasn’t just about my having had access to the gun. Someone came forward with new information.” She stared at her iced tea, poking at the lemon wedge with her straw. “I didn’t tell you the truth when you asked me if Jim was having an affair.” She couldn’t seem to look me in the eye. “This person claims to have seen Jim and me in a . . . a compromising situation that—”
“Hold on. What are you saying?” Although I’d heard her words, my brain was having trouble making sense of them.
“I’m saying I was the one having an affair with Jim,” she said bluntly, her words quickly swallowed by the general hubbub.
“Wait—you and Elise are friends, really good friends.” I wanted her to take it back. Tell me it was a joke. That she’d misspoken.
“We didn’t mean for it to happen. I know that’s what everybody says when they’re caught. But it’s the truth. It wasn’t some thoughtless, frivolous fling. We’d managed to keep our feelings under lock and key for a long time. And then one day we couldn’t anymore. I’m not saying any of this to excuse my behavior. There is no excuse for it. I was hoping to at least spare Elise more pain, let her memories of Jim remain untainted. But that’s not likely now. I wanted you to hear it from me. That way you can be there for her when . . .” Her last words caught in her throat.
In the space of a minute, she’d rendered me senseless, too numb to react. I couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. Not one expletive to spit at her.
“Here you go, ladies,” the waitress said brightly, parking our plates in front of us. “Enjoy!” she called as she moved on to another table.
I rummaged in my handbag for money. I found a twenty, tossed it onto the table, and stood up on shaky, Gumby legs. Ronnie rose too. We both started to talk at the same time. “I’ve gotta go,” I mumbled, amazed that my voice was working.
“No,” she said, low and determined as she dropped another twenty on the table. “I’ve done enough damage. Please stay and eat.” She walked away before I could argue. I didn’t want to stay, but I also didn’t want to follow her out like I was running after her, so I sank back down in the booth. My stomach recoiled at the thought of biting into the burger, despite the fact that I’d been looking forward to it all day. I reached for the shake instead and took a sip. Cool and creamy, it slid down my throat without effort, although the taste barely registered in my brain. I drank most of it and once I was certain I wouldn’t see Ronnie in the parking lot, I got up and left. The forty on the table would cover the bill and a hefty tip. I didn’t want to signal the waitress to bring the check, because then I’d be forced to explain why our food went untouched. She’d ask if my friend was okay, if I’d like a to-go bag or if I’d prefer to order something else. Questions I didn’t want to answer. Questions I wasn’t sure I could answer with any degree of normalcy.
I parked in my driveway and went inside, unable to remember how I actually got there. A part of my brain must have directed my driving, while another part was busy sorting out my tangled thoughts and feelings. One realization I’d come to was that in addition to all of Ronnie’s sins, she was a coward. She should have been the one to tell Elise. To stand there and take whatever Elise would say or do to her. But Ronnie had made me her flunky. All that babble about not wanting to cause Elise more pain was pure garbage. Ronnie didn’t want to grovel or deal with any more pain herself. For Elise, hearing this news would be like losing Jim all over again. A second death that robbed her of even the sustaining memory of being loved. And Ronnie had me the messenger.
I turned on the TV in hopes of distracting myself. It was hard to find a show that wasn’t about murder or adultery. I tried a couple of sitcoms, but they were more irritating than amusing. Sleep was probably the one thing that would quiet my thoughts, if I could manage to fall asleep at such an early hour. A cup of Tilly’s Sweet Dreams tea might help. She made it from a mixture of chamomile, valerian, lemon balm, and lavender. I’d never been crazy about the flavor of valerian, but Tilly maintained that it was the most potent herb in the concoction. While I waited for the tea to steep, I checked to be sure the cats’ communal water bowl was full.
I was headed from the kitchen to the stairs, teacup in hand, when the phone rang. I backtracked to the kitchen for it, glancing first at the caller ID. I was afraid Elise might be on the other end and I wasn’t up to destroying her world quite yet. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Travis’s name.
“Hi there,” he said. “I assume I’m not intruding on your bedtime again.”
I squelched a laugh. If he only knew. “Hi, what’s up?” I asked, reaching for my most wide-awake voice.
“I thought you might want to hear the results of my latest research.”
“Sure.”
“If you’re not busy, I could swing by in . . . say . . . ten minutes.” Oops, I hadn’t realized he meant in person. He sounded so eager, I didn’t want to shoot him down. Not to mention that my heart had started doing a little jig at the thought of seeing him again. I gave him directions to the house, then ran upstairs to pull a comb through my hair and put on some lip gloss. I told myself I would have done that if it was a girlfriend coming over too. But I didn’t buy it.
Chapter 24
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sp; Travis was at my door almost to the minute. The cats, who’d been sleeping on various ledges and furniture tops, took off at the first whiff of a stranger entering their space. Only Sashkatu remained. He opened one discriminating eye to appraise the situation and decided there was no need to further trouble himself.
I offered Travis a drink, hot or cold, but he declined. I’d left my own tea in the kitchen. I could always reheat it later if I still wanted it. For now sleep was the last thing on my mind. We sat on the couch, angled toward one another, with enough distance between us to satisfy a dueña.
He certainly wasn’t a sweep-you-off-your-feet kind of guy. I was torn between finding it a refreshing change from other men I’d known and wishing I knew if he was interested in me as more than a casual friend.
He frowned at me. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so hot.”
“Wow, that’s what every woman wants to hear.” It really was the last thing I needed to hear at that moment. Then again, a lot of men wouldn’t have even noticed. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing for a guy to be able to key into your emotional state. At least Travis had the good sense to look abashed.
“Hey no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, stumbling over his words. “But you look stressed. Like something happened to upset you. Shut up, Travis,” he muttered to himself, “before you shove your foot any farther down your throat.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. He did have a charming, boyish way about him, what my grandmother would have called winsome. “You happen to be right,” I admitted. “Something did happen. But word of advice—don’t ever use that as a pickup line.”
“Got it,” he said with a wry smile. “Look, if you want to talk about what’s troubling you, my ears are at your disposal.”
I did want to talk about it, especially to someone who could be objective. The problem was, in his line of work, information, gossip, innuendo were all grist for a very hungry mill. “I need to know that you won’t disclose anything I tell you to anyone. That I won’t see it on the late news or in tomorrow’s paper.”
He came off the back of the couch and sat up straight. “You can trust me,” he said soberly. “I know that’s what a lot of reporters would say to ease your mind, while trying to worm their way into your good graces, but I can’t think of any other way to put it.”
“Even if what I tell you could be a bit of a scoop?” I pressed him.
“You can trust me no matter what it is. If you have a bible handy, I’ll swear to it.”
I wanted to believe him and I’d always been a good judge of character, until my instincts went belly up with Ronnie. I told myself her confession was going to come out, probably sooner than later, whether or not I said anything. At least this way I could vent and find out how trustworthy Travis was. Two birds, one stone. I filled him in about Ronnie and Jim.
“It does put a new spin on the case,” he said.
“Please tell me you’re not sorry you made that promise?”
Travis shrugged and grinned. “If I don’t cut it as a reporter, I can always go to work for my uncle’s construction company. Seriously though, it looks like the police have a new contender for the killer’s crown.”
“But why would Ronnie kill the man she claims to have loved?” I’d come up with a few scenarios myself, but I wanted to see if he could add anything.”
“Maybe she got tired of waiting for him to leave his wife and marry her. Maybe he replaced her with a newer model. Maybe he broke off the affair and fired her, a lethal double whammy for a woman of a certain age.”
“All good reasons not to own up to the affair unless the police found out about it,” I said. “If Ronnie did kill him, she might have gotten away with it, if not for that one witness.”
“One is all it takes,” he said, “unless the witness had a vested interest in destroying her or is too old and dotty to be credible.” He paused. “Can I still take you up on that offer of a drink? Water would be fine.”
I was already on my feet. “Is water with citrus okay?”
“Sure, we reporters like to live on the edge.”
I returned with a tall glass and a napkin and sat down a little closer to him this time. It takes two to tango, as they say. “Okay sir, you have the floor. I assume you’re here to shoot down my theory on why Westfield left the big city.”
Travis took a long drink of the water, then put the napkin down on the end table and set the glass on it. “Not necessarily,” he said, lounging back against the cushions. “I admit I’m more cynical than the average person. In my line of work, I can’t afford to take things at face value.”
“I would never have guessed,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Hey, if you’re not cynical, you don’t dig, and if you don’t dig, you can’t find buried secrets. I read through the police reports and the ME’s findings for the six months preceding Westfield’s resignation. Sadly, what stood out was how many kids died due to gun violence. I knew it, of course, but the statistics are always hard to read.”
“In other words, I was right. Westfield wanted to get his family out of Dodge.”
“Possibly. But a good reporter doesn’t find one statistic and call the job done. I also found a number of the usual eyebrow raisers—people who died young from medical conditions that had previously gone undetected.”
“Like high school athletes dropping dead on the football field?”
“Or forty-year-olds dying during their morning jog. They tend to be mostly undetected heart conditions, but it’s far from a common occurrence. The media, with the exception of me, pounces on cases like those and plays them up until it seems like a new plague is erupting.
“And?”
“So far nothing seems questionable.”
“Do I get to gloat now?” I asked sweetly.
“Not quite. I want to poke around some more. Think you can hang in there?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“I promise not to keep you waiting too much longer.” He covered a yawn. “Sorry, not bored, just sleep deprived.” He glanced at his watch “I should probably let you put on your jammies and get to bed too.”
Now that he was about to leave, I was consumed by the need to tell him about the threatening letter. “If you have a moment, there’s something I’d like to run by you.”
“Sure, I’ll assume I’m still under oath.”
I told him about the letter and explained that I couldn’t bring it to the police, because I considered Duggan a suspect. And I if I told Tilly or Elise, they would worry, which would make me feel worse and do nothing to help the situation.
“I’m glad you told me,” he said when I was done. “It could be an empty threat, someone playing with you. But it could also be the real thing if the killer is worried that you’re getting too close. You never want to back a killer into a corner. Any chance you’d be willing to stop your investigation and leave it to the police?”
“How can I? If Duggan is the killer, it’s in his best interests to let Elise take the rap. I may be the only person working to prove her innocence.” Hearing my own words out loud made them scarier than thinking them.
“Hopefully, a good lawyer would.”
“I can’t let it go that far. Her kids just lost their father. If she’s arrested and tried for killing him, it will destroy them completely.”
Travis was silent for a minute. “I think you’re making a mistake,” he said finally, “but I can’t fault your loyalty. Any chance you’d consider taking on a partner?”
A partner would mean having someone to discuss clues with, bounce ideas off. Not a terrible idea. But I did have a couple of concerns. “I guess I wouldn’t mind a partner as long as that partner isn’t volunteering his services merely to protect me.”
“No way. I’d be in it for my own selfish reasons. Breaking this case could get me a few rungs higher up the news chain.”
I couldn’t tell if he was messing with me or being totally honest. “You should also kno
w upfront that I’m not great at playing second fiddle.”
“Now there’s a big surprise. I wouldn’t be much of an investigative reporter if I hadn’t figured that out by now. So, what do you say—partners?”
“As long as either one of us can call it quits at any time.”
“That’s what I like—a firm commitment,” he said wryly. “I guess I’ll have to live with that for now.” He stuck out his hand, and we sealed the deal. Another part of my brain was busy wondering if we were ever going to get past the handshaking stage. “I’m sure you realize that as much as I’d like to, I can’t pursue this case full-time,” he said. “My producers have their own ideas about how I should spend the hours I work for them.”
“You mean because they pay you a salary, they think they own your time?”
“I know, they have a lot of nerve. Seriously though, I will keep after it whenever I’m free. Meanwhile, Kailyn, please try to stay out of trouble. Don’t ever forget, this isn’t a mental exercise; you’re trying to take down a killer.”
“I couldn’t forget it if I wanted to. My best friend lost her husband, and her children lost their father. That’s about as real as it gets.”
“I imagine it is,” Travis said.
“Now that we’re partners, do you think you could do some checking on the other suspects on my list too?” I asked as I walked him to the door.
“Sure, but it will cut into the time I spend on Westfield.”
“I can live with that.” What I couldn’t live with was letting the killer get away because I was chasing after the wrong person.
Travis turned to me when we reached the door. “If this partnership has any chance of working, we have to keep each other in the loop. You can’t pick and choose what you tell me. Nothing is too small to mention. That includes any other threats.”
