A Mysterious Mix Up

by J. C. Kenney

  Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  “Are you doing any—”

  “Excuse me, Miss Cobb?”

  I turned to find a tall woman with short, brown hair standing a few feet away from me.

  “I’m Brandy Whitaker. I’m here for the interview.”

  I didn’t want to be rude to Brandy, so the question about the light would have to wait.

  “Wonderful meeting you.” I shook her hand.

  Renee poured her a cup of coffee while we exchanged pleasantries.

  The woman chattered nonstop as we walked to the back of the store and got seated. I’d never had someone fangirl over me, so I didn’t know what it was like. This had to be close, though.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually having coffee with the Kickboxing Crusader.”

  The mention of the crime fighting nickname Sloane had given me made me wince. I’d gotten used to it as a joke among family and friends, but its use by people I didn’t know made me uncomfortable.

  “I’ve looked over your resume.”

  Brandy was practically bouncing up and down in her seat, so I focused on my interview checklist to minimize the distractions.

  “I see you’re an adjunct professor of English. Tell me about that.”

  “Sure, but can I get a selfie with you first?” Before I could protest, she had her arm around me and her camera in front of us. “Smile.”

  She was quick. I had to give her that. I scratched an eyebrow as I regathered my thoughts. “Now, about your teaching experience.”

  “Right.” Her focus was on her phone. No doubt, the picture was going to be on the web in minutes. “I teach English as a Second Language to adults at the community college in Columbus. This semester, I’m teaching night classes twice a week.”

  Okay, Brandy was stretching the rubber band of truth, but not enough to make it snap. To teach a class like that, she had to have a strong background in two languages. That was a promising start.

  “And what made you interested in the position?”

  “Working with you.” She leaned toward me. “By the way, I heard you’re looking into the librarian’s murder. Is it true?”

  Good Lord, this woman wasn’t interested in working in the publishing industry. She seemed to have this misguided idea I lived this Wonder Woman–like double life as a literary agent by day and crime fighter by night. If only I was as glamorous as Lynda Carter or Gal Gadot, the actors who’d played Wonder Woman.

  Despite every effort I made to limit the discussion to the intern position, the conversation invariably turned to my history of solving mysteries. The realization was crushing. Given Brandy’s background, I’d begun the interview with high hopes. With each question and each rambling, off-point answer, those hopes died a slow, pitiful death.

  When the interview reached the thirty-minute mark, I brought it to a close.

  “Great. Do I have the job? I can start anytime.” She gave me a soft punch to the shoulder. “You and me. We’ll make a great pair, like a modern Holmes and Watson.”

  It took one hundred percent effort from every fiber in my body to refrain from cringing. At least I had a ready-made excuse to let her down softly.

  “I’m still conducting interviews. I’ll be in touch when they’re complete.”

  I shook her hand and escorted her out the door. The second she was out of sight, I leaned against a wall and blew out a long breath.

  “I take it the search continues?” Renee glanced at me from the sale she was ringing up.

  “Yep. One more to go.” I left it at that. There was no need to be unkind.

  Since Renee was busy with customers, I headed upstairs. With my question about the mystery light still on my mind, I bypassed my apartment and climbed the steps to the third floor.

  A fine layer of dust covered the corridor’s hardwood floor. The unadorned walls took on a grayish sheen in the meager light that penetrated the dirty window behind me. A trail of footprints from the stairs to the door to my left were the only indication of activity up here.

  In the time I’d lived in my apartment, I’d been aware of the third floor but hadn’t given it any thought. It was like the Soldiers and Sailors Monument in downtown Indianapolis. I knew it was there, but it didn’t affect my life, so I never gave it any thought.

  Renee told me when I moved in that she had plans to eventually renovate the third-floor apartments but wanted to replace the roof first. Maybe she’d been up here the night I saw the light.

  I wandered toward the window at the far end of the hall, my footfalls echoing as if I was in a subterranean cave. When I reached the end, I leaned on the windowsill and peered out. The view of the courtyard below wasn’t that much different than the view from my fire escape.

  Green, wall-to-wall, all-weather carpeting took the place of grass. A gas grill, its lid open, had been wheeled against the fence that bordered the alley. Someone had set up a game of cornhole but hadn’t bothered to put it away. Plastic deck chairs were situated in a shallow U-shape, apparently to watch the cornhole game.

  After a glance over my shoulder to make sure I was alone, I undid the latch. Dirt, wood, and old paint conspired to make an awful screech as I forced up the window. After leaning on the frame to catch my breath, I poked my head out to get a look around.

  Visions of me taking the place of a bird in a cuckoo clock made me laugh. What did I think I was doing? I had no business being up here. Sure, Renee had never prohibited me from visiting the third floor, but I couldn’t escape the feeling I was trespassing.

  Well, I was here, so it would be a waste of time, and effort, to simply slip back inside and return to my apartment. With that in mind, I leaned out as far as I could to see if I could get a look into the apartment to my left.

  The light was off. With no illumination, I couldn’t see anything. Maybe I’d have better luck next time.

  Someone had turned off the light, though. That must have meant something. I just didn’t know what. Or maybe I was just getting paranoid.

  With a growl, I scooched back in and closed the window. Ugh. My hands were filthy and I’d gotten cobwebs in my hair. On top of that, my blouse was covered with grime. Hopefully, a trip through the washer and dryer would get the stains out. It was one of my favorite tops. I didn’t want to have to throw it away because of my own carelessness.

  I brushed what gunk I could off my hands and marched downstairs like I snooped around the third floor all the time. Ursi met me when I opened my door. She gave me a quick sniff, pinned her ears back, and turned away from me.

  “Happy to see you, too.” I rolled my eyes and headed to the bathroom. “I get it. I was sticking my nose where it didn’t need to be and got all filthy.”

  After cleaning up, I made my way to the kitchen for some dinner. Ursi wound her way around my legs and started running her motor the second I opened a can of fancy, soft food.

  “My apologies for coming home so gross.” I put her food bowl on the floor.

  Ursi gave me a meh and attacked her dinner. Evidently it was apology accepted.

  The marijuana from Vicky’s desk was weighing heavy on my mind, so I texted Ashton to apologize for my hasty exit and to let her know I’d return in the morning to finish the job. Nobody else was getting a look in there until I had a chance to give it a thorough once-over.

  God only knew what else was in there.

  After chatting with Brent and promising all was well, I fell into bed early and drifted off to sleep with Ursi curled up at my feet and Janet Evanovich’s latest on my lap. Holy cow, what a day.

  The next day, I strode into the library as the doors opened. After exchanging pleasantries with Ashton and the rest of the staff, I made a beeline for Vicky’s office. A disturbing thought had occurred to me while I’d been getting dressed. What if there was more marijuana stashed around Vicky’s o
ffice? Or at her house, even? There’d been no word of anything being found, but maybe the police were keeping that quiet.

  I held my breath as I opened the door. The room was as I’d left it.

  Maybe I was letting my imagination run wild by worrying about problems that didn’t exist. It had become an occupational hazard. I’d had a hyperactive imagination my entire life. While it had served me well as an agent, as an investigator, it had its plusses and its minuses.

  Finding the room as I’d left it was a huge relief. I let out a long, tension-relieving breath and thanked the stars for my good fortune. It was time to get to work.

  I finished the desk in short order. After that, I turned my attention to the first of the filing cabinets. The top drawer was packed with purchase orders. I stuck a Post-It note on the front of the drawer so the staff would know what it contained.

  The drawer below was much the same. Evidently, the document retention policy Vicky followed was to keep every single document.

  The next one down housed folders containing spreadsheets and similar budget-related documents. Except for the last folder.

  It held an aluminum foil package just like I’d found yesterday.

  My heart rate hit maximum race speed as I yanked open the other drawers. One package had been bad enough. Two was outright worrisome. A third turned up in the bottom drawer of the middle cabinet.

  Now I was sweating.

  As if I were searching for a ticking time bomb, I went from cabinet to cabinet, shelf to shelf, hoping and praying the bomb wouldn’t be there. I even got on my hands and knees to check under the credenza.

  Right when I thought there was nowhere else to look, I noticed a sliver of space between the filing cabinets and the wall. It wasn’t more than a couple of inches wide.

  But it was wide enough to serve as a hiding place for package number four.

  Enough was enough. It was time to call the police.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Hey, Allie. What’s up?” Jeanette’s voice was cheery. Like she was having a good day.

  And I was about to ruin it.

  “Can you come see me at the library? And bring Matt if he’s available?”

  My efforts to keep my voice neutral were utter failures because Jeanette went into serious cop mode in an instant.

  “What’s going on? Is it an emergency? Are there injuries?”

  “No. It’s nothing like that. I, uh, found some things in Vicky Napier’s office.” In stop-and-start fashion, thanks to being totally unnerved, I told Jeanette about offering to clean out the office and my subsequent findings.

  “Stay right where you are. We’ll be there in five.”

  Now all I could do was wait. And let the chips fall where they might.

  A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Before I’d had a chance to answer, the door swung open and Matt entered. Jeanette was right behind him, with her evidence technician kit in hand.

  The police chief’s eyes were blazing as he marched to within inches of me. He stood there, glaring at me, until the door closed with a click.

  “Officer Wilkerson, will you repeat to me the conversation you had a few minutes ago with Miss Cobb?”

  Miss Cobb? Matt never called me that. This wasn’t good.

  His gaze held me rooted in place as Jeanette recounted our phone call. When she finished, he opened his notebook.

  “Is that an accurate version of what you said to Officer Wilkerson?” When I nodded, his focus, finally, shifted from me to the notebook. “Can you point to where these items are?”

  At my direction, Jeanette, with gloved hands, retrieved the evidence. She opened one package and gave it a sniff.

  “Marijuana. No doubt about it.” She dropped each of the packages into their own paper evidence bag and made notes on each of them.

  “I want a detailed sweep of this room. Call in backup if you need it.” Matt turned his attention back to me. “You found another one of these yesterday? Where is it?”

  With a wince, I confessed it was at my apartment. “I’m sorry. I know I should have called you. I panicked. Vicky was my hero. I didn’t want to believe she’d have anything to do with something illegal.”

  I’d messed with evidence and compromised a crime scene. On top of that, I’d delayed reporting what I’d found by almost twenty-four hours. If there was ever a time for Matt to be justified in yelling at me, then slapping handcuffs on me and hauling me off to jail, this was it.

  The explosion never came.

  Instead, he leaned on the edge of the desk and rubbed his eyes. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”

  “Look.” My embarrassment was turning to anger. Sure, I’d messed up, but I was still going to stand up for myself. “I was leaving well enough alone. I only found the pot because I was doing Ashton a favor. Seems to me your team should have been more thorough when they searched the library. Or did they even conduct a search?”

  Matt swallowed as he scribbled down something. Jeanette was seemingly too engrossed in her evidence collection work to get drawn into the debate. Their silence spoke volumes.

  They must have completed only a cursory search of the office.

  This wasn’t the time to press my advantage. What mattered was getting to the bottom of the situation.

  “Is this the drawer where you found the package yesterday?” Jeanette was by the desk, down on one knee. When I nodded, she put a yellow evidence marker by the drawer pull. “I’ll finish searching the room and check for prints where Allie found the evidence. Work for you, Chief?”

  Matt nodded and adjusted his Rushing Creek PD baseball cap. I was still in his doghouse, but calling his team out on their major oversight had knocked him off his high horse. For now, we’d reached détente.

  “What haven’t you told me?” He cracked the smallest hint of a smile. The man knew me well. He’d learned, sometimes the hard way, there was usually more to my stories than I let on initially.

  Since this was one of those times, and I was still in jeopardy of being arrested for withholding evidence or something worse, I told him about my visit to Mom’s office. A knock on the door brought my report to a halt.

  “As much as you’d like me to, I can’t cover for Vicky. This information will have to go into a police report. All of it. Be right back.” Matt stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

  I dropped curse words as I flopped into Vicky’s desk chair. “I hit a new high mark in stupidity this time, didn’t I?”

  Jeanette, who was burrowing her way through a box of paperbacks that had been marked for the book sale, shrugged. “I don’t know. Facing a killer alone in a hotel room’s pretty tough to top in that category.”

  There was no malice or ill intent in Jeanette’s tone. She was simply stating the truth. It was a tough point to argue. Still.

  “I don’t know. I thought walking down a dark alley at night while a murderer was on the loose was pretty inadvisable.”

  “Copy that.” Jeanette went to a box of hardbacks for the sale. “Then again, chasing a truck being driven by a suspected murderer through town on your bike is a solid contender for the Foolish Amateur Crime Fighting Award.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes the Kickboxing Crusader has to put herself at peril in the pursuit of truth, justice, and the American way.”

  Jeanette laughed so hard, she snorted. That was one of the many great things about her. She knew the value of a joke, especially in anxiety-filled moments.

  “I thought you hated that nickname?” She picked up a massive Stephen King novel, gave it a shake and, when nothing fell out, returned it to the box.

  “I do. But I figure now is as good a time as any to bring up my past exploits on behalf of the greater good. You know, like Frozone from The Incredibles.”

  “Here’s the deal.” Jeanette remov
ed her gloves. “Were you foolish, dumb, reckless? Yes. Did you break the law when you decided to keep the weed you found yesterday? I’m afraid so, but a good defense attorney could probably get you off.”

  I opened my mouth, but Jeanette put her hand up to stop me.

  “Let me finish.” She stared at the floor. “Matt’s angry, but he’s less mad at you than he is at himself and the department. We should have been more thorough when we searched the library. He’s the one who’s going to have to deal with any blowback from this.”

  Jeanette’s words were reassuring and let me return to why she and Matt were here in the first place.

  “All this marijuana has to be connected to the murder, doesn’t it?”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Matt closed the door behind him. “I’ve been persuaded to keep the library open while Officer Wilkerson continues her work. Allie, you and I are going to continue our conversation elsewhere.”

  He opened the door. “Shall we?”

  With my head held high in defiance of Matt, I strolled out of the office. Determined to maintain my poise, I avoided eye contact with the dozen or so patrons and staff who had gathered by the checkout counter.

  Their whispered conversations made my ears burn, but I wasn’t in handcuffs, so I stopped new rumors from getting out of the gate. A few feet from the exit, I turned to him.

  “Thank you for your quick response to my call, Chief. I appreciate your help.” Without waiting for a response, I pushed open the door and headed for my bike.

  “Not so fast.” Matt wrapped a hand around my upper arm. “Clever stunt, but we still need to talk. Wheel your bike over to my cruiser and then we’ll go someplace less conspicuous.”

  Twenty minutes later, after a stop at my apartment to pick up the last of the contraband, we were seated in a booth at the back of Big Al’s Diner. It was my favorite restaurant. Matt knew that, so he must want something.

  “This is less conspicuous than the library?” I raised an eyebrow as I stirred sweetener into my coffee.