Carrots: A Shelby Nichols Adventure

by Colleen Helme

  “Shelby…I’m sure it’s hard. I wish it had never happened. I keep hoping that maybe it will go away.”

  “Me too.” I leaned into his arms for comfort, and hoped our conversation was over. He had questions about Thrasher Development that I didn’t want to answer, so I decided to take his mind off them the best way I knew how.

  He pulled away from my kiss with a raised brow. “You’re distracting me again.”

  “I know.”

  Instead of protesting, he pushed me onto the bed, and grabbed my arms. I yelped, realizing his intentions a second too late, and he began tickling me without mercy. One thing led to another and it wasn’t until much later that I was resting peacefully beside him. His breathing deepened, and I congratulated myself that I’d accomplished my goal. Then his deep voice startled me. “Did you know Thrasher Development is owned by Joey Manetto?”

  His unexpected question gave me a shock, and my heart sped up. It took me a minute to answer. “Mr. Manetto’s first name is Joey?” I tried to put as much unbelief in my voice as I could.

  “So, you know him?”

  “I’ve met him. Briefly.” If Chris could hear my heart pounding, he’d know I was lying through my teeth.

  He rose up on one elbow, and leaned over me. “Shelby, this guy’s bad. He’s a mob boss, and I don’t want you working for him.”

  “What?” I tried to act surprised.

  “I want you to quit your job.”

  “Wow, a mob boss? How did you find out?”

  He was thinking that was a pretty dumb question since he was a lawyer, and knew stuff like that. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you quit working for him. I don’t want you getting involved in any of his business. I know you just started, but there’s got to be something else you could do.”

  “Umm…I guess I could quit. I certainly don’t want to be involved with criminals.”

  “Good, do it as soon as you can.”

  “Sure, first thing Monday morning.”

  He lay back down, relieved I hadn’t put up a fuss. “I’ve been thinking about your new talents. Since you seem to be stuck with them, it might be a good idea to put them to use, and make a little money while you’re at it, since you want to have a career and all. What do you think?”

  “You mean, like a detective agency?”

  “No, nothing dangerous, but I’m sure there’s something else. We’ll have to think about it.” Thoughts of playing poker in Las Vegas briefly crossed his mind, but he wasn’t sure I knew how to play. He was right, but I could learn, couldn’t I? “Oh, before I forget, we probably ought to turn in the rental car tomorrow.”

  My heart sank. “I don’t want to turn it in until I have another one to replace it.”

  “Maybe we can look for a car tomorrow,” Chris replied.

  “Yeah, if there’s time, that would be good.” We said goodnight, and I spent the next few hours tossing and turning. I should have known Chris would find out who owned Thrasher Development. Maybe he’d known it all along.

  Somehow, I’d have to figure out a way to keep the car until Monday. Hopefully by then, I’d know who Uncle Joey had killed so we could put him behind bars permanently. In truth, it was about the only way I could quit my job.

  ***

  The next morning was Saturday, and after my unsettled sleep, I woke up late. Chris and Josh had already left for their soccer game, and I decided it would be a good time for me to go to the library. It was the best place I could think to do some research on the man Uncle Joey killed. I just had to find out who he was. I showered and got ready, dropping Savannah off at her friend’s house on the way.

  The archives were in the basement, and it took a while to get settled in and find the newspapers on microfilm I wanted. I decided to go back twenty-two years to make sure I didn’t miss anything. The first two years of newspapers, I spent way too much time reading everything. After that I decided to just check for murders, and if there wasn’t a picture included, I checked the obituaries as well.

  I went through eight years in three hours with no luck, and my heart fell. How could it not be there? Uncle Joey couldn’t have covered the whole thing up, could he? Maybe I hadn’t gone back far enough.

  This time I went back thirty years and started over, pinning all my hopes of success that I would find something. Another hour and two years later, my heart skipped a beat when I scanned the page and there was a photo of him. Stephen Cohen. He was a handsome man, with dark blond hair and a nice smile. Uncle Joey’s memory had faded some, but I recognized his eyes. They were deep and penetrating in the picture, like he was looking into your soul. Just as they had when Uncle Joey stabbed him.

  The headline read, “Prominent Lawyer Murdered” and stated that he had been killed in his own home when he walked in on a burglary. Luckily, his wife and young child were away at the time.

  I gasped and fought off a chill when I read the name of the law firm he had worked for. It was Cohen, Larsen, and Pratt, the same firm where Chris worked. The article continued, saying that the victim had died of a stab wound. At least they got that right. The knife had been found along with several stolen articles in the trunk of a known thief, and they had the man in custody. The police said it was an open and closed case, given all the circumstantial evidence. I cringed, knowing they’d sent the wrong man to prison.

  Could this man be out of prison by now? Was he the person who had killed Johnny for revenge? It probably had nothing to do with it and I was grasping at straws. Even so, that didn’t change the fact that Uncle Joey had killed Stephen Cohen. That knowledge had to be good for something, right?

  I put everything back, and was shocked it was so late. What excuse could I give Chris? It always took me a long time to go shopping, and since I couldn’t think of anything better, I stopped at the mall and looked through all the clearance items. I found some really cute clothes on sale. A black skirt with turquoise paneling, paired with a turquoise v-neck cardigan looked fantastic. When I tried them on they fit so well I had to buy them. Of course, I had to get some black pumps to go with the outfit. But they were on sale too, so altogether, I saved more than I spent. Is that even possible? There’s nothing like a good shopping trip to make me happy.

  I was putting my new purchases in the trunk when my cell phone rang. Chris was probably wondering what had happened to me. My excuse was cut short when I realized it was Uncle Joey instead. What did he want? I almost didn’t answer, but knew I didn’t really have a choice.

  “Hello?”

  “You left so fast yesterday that you forgot to leave a cancelled check,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s right,” I started to apologize, but he cut me off.

  “It’s okay. I’ve opened an account for you at my bank. You can pick up the paperwork on Monday. That’s why I’m calling. It’s Johnny’s funeral on Monday and I want you there. A lot of times the killer will show up at the funeral, and it would be helpful if you could use your talents to locate him for me. The funeral’s at noon.”

  He rattled off the name and address of the funeral home and disconnected before I could say anything. Damn! My good mood evaporated, and I wanted to throw my phone across the parking lot, instead, I just stomped my feet a few times. I got in the car and slammed the door, then sat for a minute and took some deep breaths. I could get through this. I just needed to keep it together a little while longer.

  When I got home, Chris was ready to go car shopping. He had even found a few cars in the paper he wanted to look at. He was excited to use my mind-reading talents to get the best deal possible, and I had to go along with it.

  We spent the next few hours looking at cars. I told Chris I didn’t want another van, even though that was probably the most practical kind of car for us. I mean, how do you pick up a bunch of kids in a cute, sexy sports car? So that’s what we ended up looking for. Most of the dealers were pretty straight-forward. We told them what we wanted and how much money we had to spend, and they showed us the cars in
that price range.

  There were a couple of dealers that tried to sell us some bad cars, and we couldn’t get away fast enough from them. Along the way, I got a headache trying to keep all the numbers straight. High book, low book, it was kind of confusing, and I’m not the best at numbers in the first place. Still, I was surprised at how much the cars were marked up. We came home empty-handed, which was my goal since the car I was using wasn’t really a rental. I kind of felt guilty, but Chris just smiled and said we’d try again tomorrow. Yuk!

  The next day between going to church and looking at cars, I asked Chris about his law firm. I couldn’t get over the fact that he worked for someone so closely tied to Uncle Joey.

  “So, tell me something,” I began. “I’ve met the partners Larsen and Pratt from your law firm, but never Cohen. How come?”

  “That would be Stephen Cohen. He was the force behind the establishment of our law firm, a real smart and talented guy. Unfortunately, he was killed about twenty-five years ago. Murdered, actually, and from what I know, his murder was a real tragedy,” he said. “Apparently, he surprised a burglar in his home, and ended up getting killed. At least his murderer was put away for it.”

  “Wow, that’s awful.”

  “Yes,” Chris agreed. “The senior partners have been around a long time, but they’re thinking of adding to the list and retiring. I’m hoping I can move into one of those spots.”

  “So, you think it’s a good firm?”

  “Of course,” he said, surprised. “Why are you asking me that?”

  “It’s just that Kate seems to represent some clients that aren’t the best. Even you think that Mr. Hodges is guilty, right?”

  “Well, yes at first, but now I’m not so sure. We went to court on Friday, and he seemed pretty desperate. I haven’t seen him like that before. He told everyone that no matter who stole them, his jewels were gone, and if he didn’t get the insurance money, he was ruined. It didn’t seem like he was lying to me.”

  “When will you find out the verdict?”

  “Monday, or Tuesday. We still have more witnesses to call.” He could see I was still troubled. “Hey, in this business sometimes you can’t choose who you represent. It’s not always a matter of who’s guilty; it’s a matter of representing your client to the best of your ability under the law. If everyone does their job right, the guilty are caught. But sometimes it doesn’t work that way.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” I had to ask.

  “Yes, but I try not to think about it too hard.”

  “Just don’t make any enemies or you could end up like Stephen Cohen.”

  He sensed that I knew more than I was saying, but he didn’t pry, and I was grateful. I didn’t think telling Chris about Stephen Cohen and who really killed him was a good thing to do. At least not yet. First, I had to figure out how to use this information to my advantage, but for the life of me, I couldn’t come up with anything.

  Chapter 10

  Monday morning began rainy and wet, perfect for a funeral. I donned my wig and glasses, but decided not to wear my black clothes even though they were the right color. I was getting tired of black. Besides, I wanted to wear the new clothes I got at the mall.

  As I drove to the funeral, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t care much for funerals in the first place, but I was worried that with my abilities, I would pick up a lot of the family’s grief and sadness. I really didn’t want to cry, but some funerals were sad with all the goodbyes, even when the deceased wasn’t someone you knew. That, along with listening to all those minds could be disturbing. I mean, wouldn’t most of them be thinking about Johnny? Of course, the murderer probably would too, and that was what I wanted, right? If I actually heard the murderer, I sure hoped I could figure out who it was in the crowd.

  I arrived about ten minutes early. Not early enough for the viewing, but hopefully in time to get a good seat in the back. Usually those were the first to go, but if I was the murderer, that’s where I’d sit, and I was hoping the proximity would help me ‘hear’ him. Or her if it was a woman, I mean, who knew?

  The place was filling up, and there weren’t many seats left. So much for my plans. Uncle Joey and Ramos were sitting up front, but I didn’t want to go up there. I scanned the back again, hoping to find a small space I could squeeze into. Number Five was sitting on a row close to the back, and caught my eye. He motioned me over, and I happily squeezed in beside him.

  “Thanks for letting me sit here,” I said, truly grateful.

  “No problem,” he answered. “I have to admit I am surprised to see you here. I didn’t think you knew Johnny that well.”

  “Oh, I’m not here for Johnny as much as for Uncle Joey. He was pretty upset about Johnny’s death.”

  Number Five smiled. “I didn’t know Mr. Manetto was your Uncle.”

  Oops. “Oh, yeah, on my mother’s side.” My mother would kill me if she ever found out I’d said this.

  “Ah…I thought you were involved because of other reasons.” He was thinking it was because of things I had no control of.

  “Oh, I am…I mean…well…you know how it is.” I was trying not to say too much, but if he was a cop, I didn’t want him to think I was really working for Uncle Joey of my own free will. I smiled and he just smiled back. Maybe now was a good time to do a little probing of my own. I whispered, “I think Uncle Joey has a good idea about who killed Johnny.”

  “Really? Did he tell you?” Number Five was suddenly tense. His whole body tightened up, and he focused all his attention on me.

  “No,” I said quickly, hoping he’d calm down. Why was this upsetting him so much? “But he has informants everywhere, even in the police department.” I hoped he took that as a warning.

  “Oh.” He relaxed, and I let out my breath. I puzzled him. He was wondering why I’d bring up the cops, since he was the one who took care of them. Maybe I didn’t know as much as I thought. Or maybe I knew a lot more than he was giving me credit for. Whatever the case, it was time he did some real checking up on me.

  Oh great. Now, I’d just made things worse. What was I thinking? The funeral services began, and the conversation around us stopped. Everyone stood as the funeral directors brought the casket down the aisle with the family following behind. I didn’t want to listen to any of them, their grief and anger was too fresh. Besides, I already knew none of them did it.

  After everyone sat down, I got down to business. I tried to pick out individual thoughts, and concentrated on the back row. I figured I’d move forward row by row, that way I wouldn’t miss anyone.

  At first, all I got were random thoughts, none of them telling me anything important. I scanned up through the crowd, listening for anything that sounded remotely incriminating. There were a lot of people who would miss Johnny. He was a good person even though he was a bad guy. Everybody seemed to agree about that, but I wasn’t sure it made sense. Many were angry that he’d been killed so violently, but that came with the territory. They just hoped Uncle Joey would take revenge.

  Soon, my mind began to overload. I could no longer pick out individual thoughts because there were so many. It was like being in a crowded room with everyone talking at the same time. I used all of my concentration to pick up those stray thoughts that told me they were glad he was dead, but it was almost like looking for a needle in a haystack. I tried blocking out thoughts and then listening again, but that didn’t make them any clearer.

  I tried everything I could think of, but all it got me was a pounding headache. The funeral was nearly over when I knew I had to get out of there, even if it was just for a few minutes. I excused myself to Number Five, realizing I didn’t even know his name, and nearly collapsed when I got outside the doors.

  I found a drinking fountain, and swallowed some aspirin, then wandered around until I found an empty room. I sank into a soft chair, and closed my eyes, grateful for the silence. After a few minutes my headache dulled to something bearable, and I co
uld breathe again. I relaxed and decided I couldn’t go back in there. The stress was too much. I wasn’t sure what I’d tell Uncle Joey, but I’d figure that out later.

  After a while the voices of people leaving the service reached me, and I knew it was over. I reluctantly left my chair, and searched for Uncle Joey. He would probably want a report, and if I give it to him here, then maybe I could go home.

  I wandered into the foyer and spotted Ramos standing beside Uncle Joey in a watchful stance. He looked like a bodyguard, and it hit me that Uncle Joey was a standing target for the killer. If someone took him out now, my troubles would be over.

  That didn’t make me feel as glad as I thought. I didn’t like Uncle Joey, and I hated being in his service, but I still didn’t like the thoughts of him being gunned down in cold blood. What was wrong with me? Was I showing signs of that hostage syndrome thing? I hoped not. It was probably just that I didn’t like to see people get killed. Now if he were holding a gun to my head, it would be different.

  The crowd had thinned considerably when Uncle Joey spotted me. His smile was friendly, and he motioned me over with an outstretched arm. “I’m glad to see you made it. You look a little pale, are you all right?”

  “I’m okay now. It was a little stressful in there.”

  “I didn’t see you come in.”

  “I sat in the back by Number Five, but I got a headache, and had to leave for the last few minutes of the service.”

  “Number Five?”

  “Yeah, the guy you saw me talking to in the parking garage, on your surveillance camera. I don’t know his name, so that’s what I call him.”

  “Oh, yes I remember now. Why don’t we head over to my office? We can order some food, and discuss what you found.”

  “Well, I really didn’t find anything…”

  “That’s okay. I have some other things I need to talk to you about.” He held the doors open for me, and I took a breath of fresh air. The rain had stopped, and the sun was shining. A big rainbow hung over the cemetery like a benediction, and took my breath away.