by Kim Karr
“Good morning, Drew, how are you today?”
“Fantastic,” he says, striding toward Will, who is now off the phone.
Keeping it brief, I fill both him and Drew in on my call and then busy myself with my work so as not to ponder on the information from Detective Hill.
I decide to start to proofread my article before officially sending it to Jasper, Will, Drew, and Jake for approval.
The open space can get noisy. I’m just about to put my earphones on when I hear Drew say something that catches my attention. He’s talking to Will about recalled parts and how he doubts Hank Harper will be the middleman for any parts even if he can easily reengineer them.
“But for Jasper, he might,” Will tells him.
“He pretty much already told me hands down, no, he just doesn’t do that. Never has. Never will. He doesn’t have the time nor the space or the technology, he says. But I’m going to give it one more try.”
“He did it for my father’s plant all the time,” I say across the room.
Drew and Will jerk their heads in my direction.
“How do you know that?” Drew asks.
“I saw the bank records and the invoices. HH Automotive sold parts to him pretty consistently the year before—” I stop, not wanting to mention the tragedy.
“What kind of parts?” Drew asks.
The picture of the yellow carbon is in my head, but I can’t see the faint writing on the lines. “I’m not sure. I can’t recall what the invoices had written on them, but I know I saw them and that they matched the deposits from him for the parts. Unfortunately, those were the bank statements I just told you about.”
Will stands and looks over at me. Jasper told the guys everything, so they are aware of what I hope to do here in Detroit, although no one but Jasper has talked to me about it.
“Where did you get all that stuff anyway?” Drew asks.
“My father had stored it away in boxes in a storage unit here in Detroit.”
“What else is in there?”
My head jerks toward the stares when I realize Jake is standing there. “Good morning, I didn’t hear you come up.”
Almost following Will’s office dress code, he’s wearing dress pants, a gray shirt, and dress shoes, but no tie or jacket. Almost there, but not quite. He bobs his chin toward me. “Go on. I’m curious to hear this.”
Thankfully the list is short, because being under Jake’s scrutiny is worse than facing the wrath of Will. “He had some ledgers, invoices, bank records, shift schedules, maintenance repair logs, electric bills, and phone bills. I’ve gone through some of the stuff but every time I look at it, I see nothing out of the ordinary. I can’t figure out what my father was doing with it all.”
Jake takes a step toward me and knocks his fist on my desk. “If you want a fresh set of eyes to look at it sometime, I’d be glad to.”
Rapidly blinking at how fast Jake’s demeanor can change, I give him a slight smile. “Yes, sure, that would be great. Jasper and I are going to the storage unit tomorrow. I’ll bring some of it in on Monday.”
Jake nods.
Wow.
Laces hitting the metal staircase and fast-moving feet alert me that Jasper is on his way up the stairs. He is at the top in record time and he’s not following dress policy at all, but then again, he is going on a test drive today, so I guess it’s okay.
Before he goes I want to tell him about Detective Hill’s call, but as soon as he looks at me, I can see the gloom on his face.
“What is it?”
Eyes circling the room, it’s as if he’s taking inventory of who’s here and glad to see everyone. “My mother just called. An abandoned car with a body was found in the woods near her house this morning. The police are going door-to-door and asking questions at the houses in the area. She’s worried her name will trigger an avalanche from the press and she doesn’t know what to do.”
“Fuck. It will be a shit storm for Hank if the press gets wind of the fact that Jasper Storm’s mother is a tenant in one of his rental homes,” Jake mutters.
“Yeah, I know,” Jasper says.
“You need to get her out of there,” Drew tells Jasper.
“She can’t leave; the police are parked at the end of the road. I’m going to see if I can get through and at least calm her down so she doesn’t say anything stupid.”
“I’ll come with you,” Will says.
Jasper nods and I can see the apprehension in his eyes. Another press frenzy could be on the horizon. We’d avoided the press all week, using the tunnel beneath his building to come and go and not going anywhere out in public together. This would be different, though. This could possibly expose his mother’s affair. An affair that has remained hidden for many years. And I doubt his mother would take that well. In fact, judging from the look in Jasper’s eyes, I’m sure she wouldn’t.
Searching, searching, searching for what to say, I come up with nothing.
Jasper circles my desk and places his strong hand on my back, and then leans in to kiss me. “I’ll call you when I can.”
I look up at him with concern.
“It will be fine,” he assures me.
Words spoken without context or feeling behind them. They don’t make me, or him, feel any better.
“Jake, can you call Max and tell him we’ll have to postpone the test drive?”
“Yeah, sure. No problem.”
Jasper gives me one final nod and then, just like that, he and Will are gone. The laces from his boots hit the metal staircase faster than I’ve ever heard them.
I hope everything goes okay.
As I stare out the window, the sky begins to cloud over and I sit in my seat just watching it for a long time.
I feel on edge. Hot and testy. At odds with myself. I wish I could have gone with Jasper. Yet, I know I couldn’t. I hate that I can’t be with him in times like this. I need to clear my father’s name so I can hold my head high.
After berating myself enough for now, I sip my cold coffee, and then finally try to read my blog post. After the fifth reread, I feel that it is ready to be sent to everyone else, so I compose my email. As I hit Send, I know the chances of getting everyone’s approval today are low.
The rest of the morning drags on. No call from Detective Hill. No news from Jasper.
I try to start a new post but end up corresponding on social media about my previous posts from the corporate account instead.
“We’re heading out to grab some lunch. Want to come?” Jake asks.
“No, thanks. I think I’m going to leave around four if I haven’t heard from Jasper. I have some things to do, if that’s okay?”
Jakes shrugs. “It’s fine with me. And you can go ahead and post that article. Drew and I both approved it.”
Uncertain, I try not to sound that way. “You sure it will be okay?”
Drew chuckles. “If you want, I can email you my approval along with a note that says I told you to go ahead and post it.”
I laugh but look at him seriously. “Would you, please?”
Jogging back over to his desk, he sits down and lifts the lid to his laptop.
For some crazy reason Jake looks at me like I’m from Mars, and I begin to wonder if I forgot to brush my hair this morning. “What is it?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I was wrong about you.”
My brows rise. “What do you mean?”
“You’re good for Jasper, that’s all. Tell anyone I said so, though, and I’ll deny it.”
With my fingertips I pretend to zip my lips closed.
That makes him laugh.
Somehow I’m able to bite back the word I’m thinking—anomaly.
“Done,” Drew says, and slams his lid down. “Oh, and Charlotte, I’m going to see Hank Harper after lunch about that parts contract we want from him.”
“He’s in the office?”
Drew nods.
I guess he wouldn’t be near the press.
“I’m taki
ng off for the rest of the day after that. Tell Jasper to call me,” he says.
“Okay,” I tell him. “Have a good weekend.”
“I’ll be back,” Jake says.
“Hey,” I call to him.
He turns before stepping down the stairs.
“How late will you be here? I thought about grabbing some of those documents I told you about and bringing them back.”
Jake shrugs. “I don’t have any plans. I can hang out here. I’m sure Jasper won’t mind if I invite myself over for dinner.”
Feeling a little excited over the prospect of making headway, I extend an offer that I probably shouldn’t without talking to Jasper first. “Good, I’ll stop at the grocery store after I run home to get the key for the storage unit.”
He raises a brow. “You’re cooking?”
“I am.”
Jake takes a step down. “I’ll definitely be here. How are you getting to your place?”
“The People Mover.”
“I’ll be back before you leave, so you can take my car.”
“No, I don’t want to be an imposition.”
He holds up a hand. “Look, Charlotte, the goody-two-shoes thing wears on me a bit. Just say yes, will you? Besides, if you don’t, then I have to listen to Jasper’s shit about why I didn’t help you out.”
“Okay. Yes.”
He shakes his head.
I smile at him.
Saying no more, he disappears from my view.
At one, I stretch my legs and pop downstairs to grab an apple and the few slices of cheese I brought yesterday but never ate. I don’t feel like running out for lunch.
By two, I’m ready to crawl out of my own skin. I still haven’t heard from Jasper and Jake hasn’t returned. Searching the news, there is nothing about the abandoned car.
With my fingers still hovering over the keyboard, I type HH Automotive in the search bar. What Drew had said about Hank earlier not wanting, or being unwilling, to supply the parts needed got me thinking about what he would have been providing for Laneworth.
The search results yield many articles about the company’s growth and financial success. The company is privately held, so financials aren’t available, but I learn plenty about the company. Enough to understand it wouldn’t be to their strategic advantage to buy parts from another parts supplier in any way, shape, or form; even twenty years ago HH dominated the market.
I try to picture those invoices, and every time I see them I swear I see the word widget written across them. I’d come across that box when I first went to the storage unit and hadn’t really paid it much attention.
For the heck of it, I Google the word and get the following result: Widget is used in texts and speech, especially in the context of accounting, to indicate a hypothetical any-product.
A hypothetical any-product?
That doesn’t make sense.
The sound of the front door has me jumping out of my seat. “Jasper!” I call, rushing toward the staircase.
A body emerges up the winding metal but it isn’t Jasper, it’s Jake. “Sorry, it’s only me. You haven’t heard from him either, huh?”
Disappointed, I shake my head.
“I tried to call but he didn’t pick up.”
Dropping back into my seat, I sigh. “I scoured the news, but there’s nothing yet.”
Jake tosses his car keys on my desk. “Yeah, I did too. It’s coming, I’m sure.”
Reaching for his keys, I give him a slight smile. “Thanks again.”
Jake being Jake, he just shrugs it off. “I left it parked out front of the building. No reporters out there today.”
“You found a spot?”
He nods. “My lucky day.”
I ignore his sarcasm. I’m starting to get used to it. “Hey, can I run something really crazy by you?”
He raises a brow. “You sure you want to do that?”
I sit back in my chair. “I’m serious.”
He takes a seat and crosses his arms. “Go for it.”
“What if one person is responsible for all of this—the explosion, the accident, Eve’s murder?”
“As in the same person?”
I nod. “Who are you thinking?”
“Hank Harper.”
Jake starts laughing. “You had me. Here I thought you solved a twenty-year-old crime.”
“I’m serious. Think about it. Who gained the most from the plant explosion? Why doesn’t he want to help Jasper—perhaps because he doesn’t want Jasper to build the plant?”
“That’s not true.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do. He’s always been supportive of Jasper.”
“Yes. But business-wise it makes sense. It will hurt his business when Jasper brings other businesses back to Detroit. He’ll no longer have a monopoly.”
Jake scratches his head.
“Makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“I wish I could say yes, but I can’t. Even if Jasper weren’t like a son to him, what would be his motive for killing Eve?”
My lips purse. “I don’t know the answer to that.”
“And besides, he’d never kill all those people on purpose.”
I nod.
“Charlotte, I know you want to clear your father, but I think you need to take this a little slower. Jasper looks up to Hank. I would keep that theory under wraps until you have a little more proof,” he says and turns around in his chair.
He’s right, of course, but even though I try to dispel the idea, my mind is on those bank statements. Why was HH paying Laneworth for parts, even if they weren’t widgets? It doesn’t make sense. From everything I read about HH, they should have been able to procure the parts cheaper than Laneworth.
At three fifty-one, I can’t take it anymore. I still haven’t heard from Jasper. Hopefully, he’ll be back by the time I am. “I’m going to head out now. I shouldn’t be too long,” I announce.
Deep in concentration, Jake gives me a nod to let me know he heard me.
Not a man of many words.
As soon as I set foot on the sidewalk, I freeze.
The car is right in front of me.
It can be rather intimidating.
Sure, I’ve heard the Storm described as visionary and cutting edge. In a class of its own. And yes, it’s super fast, super sleek, and a performance machine, but it’s also a manual transmission, and the stick shift is what scares me the most.
The first car I learned to drive on was a stick shift, but it’s been a while and this isn’t my car. What if I stall in the middle of the road and someone hits me from behind? Worse, what if I ruin the transmission?
I turn my phone to silent; I need all my attention on getting from point A to B to C with the car in one piece. I must have been crazy when I decided to go home, get the key for the storage unit that I keep taped under the coffeepot from the bed-and-breakfast, then go to the storage unit, then go to the grocery store, all before heading back to Jasper’s place.
Nuts.
Nuts.
Nuts.
Once in the driver’s seat I think back to watching Jasper do this.
Car in neutral.
Foot pressed on the clutch.
And turn the ignition.
The car purrs to life and I’m off to a good start. I put it in reverse and just like riding a bike, driving a stick comes back to me.
Soon I’m shifting out of instinct.
I got this.
OVERDRIVE
Jasper
SOMETHING’S NOT RIGHT.
Streaking down the highway, I can hear the roar, hiss, and whistle of the engine. Normally music to my ears, it sounds off. I look over at Will. “Do you hear that fluttering?”
From lids half-mast with exhaustion, he fully closes his eyes and listens. “Sounds like the headers might be leaking.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Are the RPMs within range?”
A glance at the dashboar
d tells me what I already know. “No, they aren’t ticking all the way through.”
“You might want to have Max look at it,” Will says.
I nod. “I think while he’s at it he should recalculate the pipe lengths. What do you think?”
“Maybe. Not sure if that is it or if someone messed with them when the car was at impound. But either way, taking another look will only make the Storm go faster.”
That puts a smile on my face and I focus on the road ahead, and then try Charlotte’s cell again.
Still no answer. This time I leave a message. “Hey, it’s me. It was a crazy day and I haven’t had cell service for past couple of hours. Call me.”
Soon enough, it’s home, sweet home.
It’s after four when I’m finally nearing my building. I crest the slope into the garage like a skateboarder taking flight over a mondo ramp.
It’s been one long fucking day.
All I want to do is see Charlotte and not leave my apartment for the entire weekend. I don’t want to have to submit to police searches because a dead body was found in the abandoned car near where my mother lives. I don’t want to wait outside for hours while my mother cries on my shoulder that Hank is going to break up with her if word gets out about who she is. I don’t want to have to explain to her that she’s his tenant, nothing more, if asked.
And for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to be trapped in the limits of Bloomfield Township unable to leave until the crime scene investigation is complete, with no fucking cellphone reception to boot, like I have most of the day.
I give Charlotte another ring.
“Did she pick up yet?” Will asks.
I shake my head no. “Maybe she has her earphones in.”
Looking exhausted, he nods. “Probably. Knowing Drew and Jake, they’re jamming to happy-hour music by now.”
Screeching into my spot, I whip my door open and stretch my back. I’ve been in the car way too long.
Will does the same. “I’m heading home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
