I pulled into the station’s parking lot just as my phone buzzed in my bag. The text didn’t come in on my personal cell phone. It had come in on the burner phone. Glenn was the only person who had the number, so I knew the text was from him. “Meet me at Jean Young’s. We forgot something last night.”
His car was in the lot, so I assumed he took a cruiser to pick up the equipment he left at Jean’s. I pulled out and headed for her house.
A terrible attack of the yawns hit me on the way. Each one was bigger and louder than the last, and I desperately needed some coffee. I pulled into Chummy’s lot, fully intending to take advantage of an employee running orders. Instead, I was happy to see the large menu board had been taken down from the side of the building, and the drive-thru was open again.
When the employee’s garbled words came across the speaker, I smiled and shouted my order. “One large black coffee.”
Dee was at the window to take my money. “Oh, it’s you,” she said and reached for my five-dollar-bill. “Tell Pepper it’s her turn to drive Saturday night.”
I doubted Pepper was going back to work at Chummy’s, but I’d let her tell Dee herself. I nodded and said, “Ok.”
She handed the change to me by placing the coins on top of the dollar bills. Most of the coins slid off onto the ground. I grabbed my coffee from her and pulled away from the window.
I took a sip of the hot drink and could have kicked myself for not running inside to place my order. Hot cocoa with whipped cream lurked beneath the lid. I consoled myself with the fact that there was at least some caffeine in the chocolate.
When I arrived at Jean’s, there wasn’t a police cruiser in the driveway, but there was a black Porsche. I couldn’t help smiling. If the Blue Hat Society came here in another one of Lucille’s dead husband’s cars, I certainly wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe they brought cookies and tea to thank Jean for her part in helping catch Barbie.
I rang the doorbell and waited a full minute. No one answered. I rang again. Jean finally opened the door. She had been crying and tears remained on her face. She held her arm in a manner that let me know she was hurt. My first thought was Harvey had come home and beat her. I didn’t have him pegged as a wife beater.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is Harvey home? Did he hit you?”
She couldn’t speak. She barely shook her head.
Before I could react, a man stepped out from behind the door and shoved her aside, causing her to cry out in pain. He reached out, grabbed my arm, and pulled me inside the house. He shoved me away from him and toward Jean.
“Who are you?” he demanded, aiming a gun at my head.
He didn’t know me, but I knew who he was. He was Lucille’s Mr. Malloy, the weed dealer. And even though fear gripped me, I tried to keep it from showing.
“Who are you?” I asked. “And what did you do to Jean?”
He held the gun steady on me. “I asked you first. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
Were we in first grade? I was tempted to say, I asked you second, but seeing what he had done to Jean caused me to hold the snarky comment back.
“I’m a private investigator, and I’m here because I got a text from my boyfriend telling me to meet him here.
The man pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and tossed it toward me. It floated to the ground at my feet. I could clearly see the number written on it. “That’s the number to a burner phone I carry.”
“I thought it belonged to that cop Barbie works with,” he said.
“That cop is my boyfriend, and do you have any idea who Jean’s husband is? He works for the FBI. What do you think he’s going to do to you when he finds out what you’ve done to her?”
I could tell this was news to him, and he looked startled. I couldn’t believe Jean hadn’t already told him about Harvey. Emboldened, I asked again, “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“I’m Barbie’s husband. I’m looking for her. I had to leave her house in a hurry last night when some women’s group showed up. She called me later and said she was spending the night with a sick friend at this address. She said she’d be home this morning, but she never showed up. I need to find her, and this shrew refuses to tell me where she is.”
Once again, I found myself completely thunderstruck. How could Barbie have a husband? It wasn’t in any of the information I’d found when I ran her background check, and Arnie hadn’t said anything about marriage when he was searching the deep web for information on her.
“I told him the police arrested her last night and impounded her car, but he doesn’t believe me,” Jean said.
“She is the police,” he yelled at her. “They wouldn’t arrest her.”
“Listen, Malloy,” I said. He jerked his head as if I’d slapped him. “Yes, I know who you are. You shakedown businesses for protection money, and you deal drugs out of the Chestnut Ridge Apartments.”
He visibly tightened his grip on the gun. I flinched. If he put his finger on the trigger, he might accidentally shoot one of us.
“I know about you, and I know about Barbie. She killed Wade Locke’s wife up in Youngstown, because her husband wouldn’t sleep with her. She broke up the marriage of Tony Lucas in Portsmouth by having an affair with him. I’m sure you read about his murder last week. That was Barbie’s doing, too. And the bullet wound she has in her arm? Self-inflicted to incriminate me, so she could steal my boyfriend – her partner at work.”
“You’re Jo Ravens,” he said. “Barbie told me about you. You’re a liar, and I don’t believe a word you’ve said.”
“She confessed to everything right here last night,” I said. The recording equipment is still here somewhere, and I suggest you leave before the police show up to pick it up.”
Jean whimpered beside me. She was in a lot of pain. I couldn’t help wondering if her arm was broken.
The man was rattled. “I need to think. Get in there.” He motioned for the two of us to go into the living room. “Wait. Toss your purse over here.” I hesitated but tossed my bag to him. “Now empty your pockets.”
I reached into my jeans and showed him there was nothing in my pockets.
“Take off the sweatshirt and toss it to me.”
My brain raced. I had to distract him or do something to keep him from getting the hoodie. Barbie’s gun and the flash drive with her confession were in it. A few moments later, I realized there was nothing I could do. I removed the hoodie and tossed it to him.
He frowned when he caught it. He pulled the gun from the pocket. “This is Barbie’s. How did you get it? This is your last chance to tell me where she is.”
I raised my voice. “She’s in a cell down at the police station. Why don’t you drive down there and see for yourself. You can take some of your drug money and bail her out.”
He took a step forward, but stopped and continued checking the hoodie. He pulled out the flash drive.
Jean couldn’t help a slight intake of breath. “How did you get that?” she asked me.
“What is it?” Malloy asked. “Is it something important?”
“It has your wife’s confession on it,” I said. “I was taking it down to the station when I got the text telling me to come here. I think you should listen to what’s on there.”
Jean’s eyes lit up. “I agree. Officer Wheeler left all the recording equipment in a box on the back porch. That way, when an officer stopped by to pick it up today, he wouldn’t disturb me.”
“I’ll listen to it later,” he said and pointed to the sofa. “Sit down.”
The news a police officer would be showing up seemed to disturb him more than Barbie’s confession. He walked over to stand next to the fireplace. Jean had a moderate fire going to combat the chilly day. He tossed the flash drive into the fireplace.
“No!” I shouted. I stood with the intention of lunging for him, but he aimed his gun at me, his finger on the trigger.
“Now there’s no confession,” he said with a smile
.
His smile was replaced by alarm in his eyes. I looked over my shoulder and out the window. A police cruiser was coming up the drive. He quickly turned toward the kitchen. “If either of you say anything to cause that officer to come after me, I’ll come back and kill both of you.”
He bolted for the kitchen and the back door.
“You can’t let him go out there,” I said.
“I most certainly can,” Jean said. She considered the look of horror on my face, and said, “Oh, all right, but you’ll have to help me. I can’t raise my left arm.”
Shots rang out from the backyard. “He’ll kill your dogs,” I said.
“No he won’t. They’re like ninjas, and he won’t be able to shoot straight when he’s peeing his pants.”
I rushed her to the door.
“Stand behind me and slip your arm through mine. When I yell at the dogs to halt, hold your arm out straight with your palm up.”
Malloy had run off the porch and was nearly to the corner of the house when Jean yelled, “Boris! Brewster! Halt!” She was a few seconds late as the dogs sank their teeth into him – one grabbing a leg, the other grabbing an arm. They each gave a hard shake of their head before releasing him and backing off. Malloy writhed on the ground and screamed with pain.
Officer Collins ran into the yard with his gun drawn, his eyes directed at the dogs.
“Tom, don’t shoot!” I yelled to him.
Jean clenched her arm to mine. “Don’t lower your arm yet,” she said.
The two of us moved in unison off the porch and toward the dogs.
“Good boys,” she said, slowly lowering my arm and issuing another command. “House.” Both dogs took off running toward their doghouses. She looked at Tom and me and said, “Call the paramedics. Everyone will be fine as long as no one steps on the porch. Do you have police tape we can put across the steps for now?”
Tom was speechless. At least for a few moments. “Who is this guy?” he asked.
“His name’s Malloy,” I said. “He says he’s Barbie Cane’s husband. I don’t know about that, but I do know he’s a drug dealer. He’s the one who sold the weed to Lucille, and he’s been extorting money from businesses around town.”
Tom rolled Malloy over onto his stomach and put cuffs on him. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” he said. “Why don’t you run and call Sarge? Fill him in and have him send an ambulance and a few men up here.”
I laughed. “Nice try. Do it yourself.”
I hooked my arm through Jean’s good arm and walked her around to the front of the house. Tom soon followed, and we heard Malloy screaming for us not to leave him alone.
Jean and I went inside to wait for more help. We sat on the sofa, facing the fireplace. It was warm and comforting, but I was heartsick Barbie’s confessions were destroyed. At least Jean would be a good witness against her.
Ten minutes later, three police cars and two ambulance vehicles pulled into Jean’s drive. As bad luck would have it, Harvey’s car came up the drive a few minutes later.
I braced myself for another round with Sergeant Rorski.
Chapter Fourteen
“Champagne?”
I smiled at the flight attendant. “Yes, please.”
I wasn’t even disgusted with myself when she set the flute in front of me and I giggled. I was in heaven, and nothing could upset me now. Ten days in Hawaii was something I would have never dreamed of three weeks ago. Now, Glenn and I were on our way to the island of Oahu.
I leaned a little closer to him. He took my hand in his and lifted it to his lips for a kiss.
“I love you, Mrs. Wheeler.”
Mrs. Wheeler. The name sounded so old.
“I love you, too,” I said and took a sip of champagne.
“But?” he asked. “I know that look. You love me, but there’s a but in there.”
“My name. Should I keep Ravens for work? Should I go by Jo Ravens-Wheeler? I don’t want anyone calling me Mrs. Wheeler. It makes me sound like a schoolteacher – or a lunch lady.”
He laughed and kissed my hand again. “Well, if you want my honest opinion, Ravens is the name of a man you used to be married to. It would be nice if you’d let it go, but I’ll go along with whatever you decide. Jo Wheeler doesn’t sound like a lunch lady, and the name has a nice ring to it.”
I twisted the rings on my finger. He was right. I was comfortable in the name Jo Ravens, but it was time for a new chapter in my life to start, and a new name would be fitting. I leaned over and pecked him on the lips. “Jo Wheeler it is.”
“Good. I’m just happy to be able to call you my wife.” His smile was broad, and I noticed the flight attendant’s gaze lingering on his face longer than necessary.
I felt no jealousy. This sexy hot man with a dimple that buckled your knees was my husband. It was almost too much to believe.
It was only three days ago that Barbie and her husband were arraigned in court. The district attorney assured us Barbie would be going away for life, and her husband would be behind bars for many years. Arnie said they were married in Mexico, but because of the extra curricular activities of both of them, they kept separate housing in the States, and Barbie used her maiden name.
It killed me to tell Sergeant Rorski the flash drive with Barbie confessing to her crimes was burning in Jean’s fireplace, but he took the news well. Glenn told me later that Barbie wrote a full confession at the station the night he brought her in. She knew he already had her words on tape, so she followed procedure and wrote it all down.
Jean Young’s arm had been wrenched from the socket, resulting in a dislocated shoulder. She was going to be fine.
Harvey wasn’t happy to see me, but he was happy to take over the matters of Barbie’s husband. When Malloy’s apartment was raided, not only were there large amounts of marijuana in one bedroom, but there were copious amounts of cocaine and prescription painkillers in the other. There would be no getting out of the narcotics and racketeering charges brought by the federal government.
No charges were brought against Lucille. The gun was registered to her, and she had a legal carry permit. The amount of marijuana was small enough to be deemed a misdemeanor with a one hundred and fifty dollar fine, but no record. She was already asking around town to find a new dealer. She said the wacky weed made her hip feel better.
Glenn was reprimanded and given a four-week suspension without pay. Not turning in a person wanted for murder was more than Sergeant Rorski could overlook. That, and his colluding with me to get the confessions from Barbie, forced the sergeant’s hand.
Glenn came home early yesterday evening, after having taken my truck to a shop specializing in cleaning and detailing, and found me in the basement staring at the whiteboard. Keith had been in here since I moved out, adding clues to what might have happened to the Buxley Beaver mascot costume. The answer was right there for him to see, but it didn’t look like he had connected the dots yet.
“Do you have this crime solved yet?” Glenn asked. “I’m getting tired of running down leads, and everyone up at the school is hyperventilating over their missing beaver.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t studied Keith’s clues and solved it yourself. Buxley will never have a detective if someone doesn’t step up.”
He stood back, hands on hips, and read every item carefully. “For one thing, he draws better than you do.”
I backhanded him on the chest. “He drew a beaver. How hard can that be?”
He grimaced at my words, but couldn’t help smiling.
“Ok, let me get serious,” he said. “The doggone thing has been spotted around town, but it doesn’t fit whoever is wearing it, so it’s probably not an adult or a high school student. We have to think younger.”
“What if it’s a vertically challenged adult?” I asked, trying to throw him off. “If Pepper wore the costume, it would look like there was a little kid in there.”
He ignored me. “How would a kid get access to it? The sightings
have been brief, so he doesn’t want to get caught.”
“What if it’s a girl?”
He ignored me again, sidestepped over to another part of the board, and pointed to a list of animals. “What’s this all about?”
“Jimmy Faust’s mother hates that the school uses a beaver for their mascot. It’s been brought up over and over at council meetings that the third graders have to write a report on beavers during school pride week, and every year, a few of them get more than they bargained for when researching. No one in authority wants to be the person to put an end to the beaver, so she’s on a mission to have the mascot changed herself. She’s circulating a petition and asking signers to vote for a new animal. Those are the top five choices.”
Glenn read the list aloud. “The Buxley Bandicoots. The Buxley Black Bears. The Buxley Balloonfish.” He furrowed his brow and laughed. “Has anyone ever used a balloonfish for a school mascot? The Buxley Badgers. The Buxley Bloodhounds. Personally, I wouldn’t vote for any of these. Keep the beaver.”
“Do you have any idea where the costume is?” I asked.
“Not a clue.”
I gave him a smug smile. “It’s in Jimmy Faust’s house. His mother is a booster club member, and I think she swiped it. Jimmy must have discovered where she kept it hidden, and when she wasn’t home, he took it and put it on somewhere around town. I would even bet Keith’s worn it a few times.”
A smile spread across his face. “That little devil. I think you’re right.” He grasped my arm and led me to the loveseat.
“Sit down,” he said.
I laughed and sat down. “Ok. Now what?”
He knelt in front of me and pulled my engagement ring from his pocket. “Jo Ravens, will you marry me? Tomorrow?”
“What?” I squealed. “Tomorrow? We can’t get married tomorrow. What about the double wedding with Nancy and Hank?”
“I can’t wait that long. Let them have their day. We’ll have ours tomorrow.” As if to sweeten the pot, he pulled two first-class tickets to Hawaii from his pocket. “We leave late tomorrow afternoon for vacation no matter what your answer is, but I’d like it to be our honeymoon.”
Murder Page 14
