by Julie Chase
Why did people keep saying that?
“I’m motivated.” I broke the words into syllables, hoping to help Chase catch up. “This is a big deal. My dad’s life is at stake.”
“I feel like your statement is making my point.”
“Oh. I see.” I clamped trembling hands over my hips. “I’m overreacting because you’ve already told me everything will be fine, and I didn’t accept that as gospel, is that it?”
“Yes.”
Mom spun back toward the hallway. “Thank heavens. What took you so long?”
I tore my anger away from Chase to see where she was going.
Jack, Dad, and the family attorney sauntered toward us, speaking softly among themselves. Dad’s shoulders were rolled forward, and Jack reeked of guilt. As he should.
“Detective Oliver,” I snubbed. “What? No cuffs?”
Dad took my hand and pulled me into a hug. “No need to be harsh, pumpkin. He’s doing his job.” He kissed the top of my steaming head. “Now, what do you say we go home?”
“Hallelujah.” Mom headed for the door, matching pace with our attorney.
I stepped out of Dad’s embrace. “Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Chase, Jack, and I waited in silence until Dad vanished into the sunlight.
I turned on Jack. “Well? Are you satisfied my dad isn’t a murderer?”
He lifted his brows. “You’re still mad about this?”
I chomped my lip. Tears swam in my eyes.
Chase moved behind me, close enough for me to share his strength. “Give her a break, man. She’s scared for her dad. Surely you get that.”
Jack shifted his weight and locked Chase in a venomous stare. “I’m well aware of why she’s upset, Attorney Obvious. I didn’t want to do this any more than she wanted me to, but it’s my job to follow the facts. Don’t you have some millionaire you need to pander to right now?”
“You mean someone exactly like you?” he snapped.
Jack’s mouth fell open. It wasn’t common knowledge that the broody detective had inherited the Grandpa Smacker estate not long ago, and he liked to keep it that way. Grandpa Smacker was a megacorporation established more than seventy years ago by Jack’s grandfather. Grandpa Smacker sold jams, jellies, and sweets of every sort to people across the country. Jack was insanely rich and too innately stubborn to give up detective work and enjoy the money. Jack was too stubborn for most anything. Including giving up on a hunch that his grandfather’s death wasn’t an accident.
The medical examiner was a friend of his grandpa’s, and he’d hidden a few things from the press after the autopsy. For one, his heart attack was likely caused by ongoing small doses of GHB, a date rape drug found in his stomach along with some wine. Jack believed his grandpa’s live-in girlfriend, Tabitha, had been secretly administering the drug. The question was, why? I’d suggested the little doses might have been enough to loosen his lips and not actually meant to kill him. Maybe she wanted to extract trade secrets or his bank account numbers. I hadn’t worked out the details, but Jack and I had been exploring the theory together, until he started pushing me away. And accusing my father of murder.
Chase looped an arm protectively around my back.
Jack stared at Chase’s fingers in the curve of my waist and worked his jaw until I worried his teeth would crack. He moved his gaze to my face. “We don’t think Mr. Becker’s heart attack was an accident. We suspect it was a direct result of being locked in the freezer.”
I gave him a pleading stare. “My dad didn’t do this. Have you checked the security cameras yet?”
“Parking lot surveillance shows your dad’s car. No one else’s. We’ve got him at the crime scene until ten.”
“When was the time of death?” I asked. “Are we sure Mr. Becker was in the freezer when Dad left?”
Jack pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes. “I don’t know anything for sure yet. That’s why I’m asking questions.”
“Any interior cameras?” Chase asked.
I’d nearly forgotten he was there.
Jack shook his head and dropped his hand from his face. “The only internal feed covers the bar.”
I contemplated the new information. There wasn’t a camera pointing at the freezer, but there was still hope. “You said he was locked in, but did you check the freezer’s safety mechanism? Walk-ins have measures in place to prevent things like this from happening.”
“There was a mechanical issue.” He bit out the words.
Why was he being coy? “I’ve already spoken with Lana. The light was on when she got to work.”
“Sure, the exterior light alerts workers that someone is stuck inside, but he was only stuck because the . . .” Jack stopped midrant. His eyes stretched wider. “Did you say you spoke with Lana? The woman who found Mr. Becker?”
I needed a change of subject before I got another lecture. “Was this really a routine questioning, or is my dad a suspect?”
Jack raised his chin, apparently caught off guard. “I asked him not to leave town.”
My heart clenched. Nothing about this scenario made any sense.
Chase’s fingers pressed against my waist, reminding me again that I wasn’t alone.
“I can’t believe a person could die from a few hours in a freezer,” I complained. I wasn’t premed long, but I’d stuck it out enough semesters to know Mr. Becker should’ve lived, maybe with a little frostbite or hypothermia, but he should’ve lived. “I don’t understand why he had a heart attack.”
“Well,” Jack rocked back on his heels. “The ME will have an official report soon, but Wallace Becker was definitely locked in the freezer, and he’s absolutely dead.”
I bit back the urge to swear and sweetened my voice instead. “Even if my dad’s car was in the lot last night, why does that matter? They were friends. They went out. Neither of those facts should make him a suspect.”
Dad eased into view. “We had a fight in the parking lot.”
I jumped. I hadn’t heard him return. “You and Mom?” I asked. “Why?” I craned my neck to see where she was.
“No. Wallace and I.”
The implication of his admission crashed over me like a bag of rocks. I jerked my eyes to Jack’s, hoping he hadn’t heard that.
Jack watched Dad.
Dad moved into my personal space. “Our disagreement was caught on the security feed.”
Chase released me, and I grabbed Dad’s hands. “What happened?”
He tipped his head and smiled sadly. “Wallace invited me inside for a drink, to talk things through in private.”
“Dr. Crocker,” Chase warned, “you shouldn’t say anything else without your lawyer present.”
“It’s okay,” Dad said. “I’ve told the police everything I know. This is on record with the authorities. I thought it was time I put it on record with my family.”
“Daddy.” I pressed my lips into a tight line. I hadn’t called him that since high school. Even then, I’d only used the endearment when I was truly frightened.
Jack moved toward Dad, bringing himself back into view. “The camera pointed at the bar caught the whole thing. Parking lot cameras show your father leaving a few minutes later. Alone.”
“That’s why you were acting so strangely this morning,” I whispered. “You had a fight with Wallace.”
“I tried to call him when I got home, but he wouldn’t take my calls. I woke this morning thinking he’d be ready to talk, but the calls still went to voice mail. I thought the things I said to him had ruined our friendship.” Dad’s voice wavered. “I thought I’d said too much. Been too far out of line to turn back, and he might never speak to me again. I had no idea how true that would be.”
Chase set a hand on one of my shoulders and one on Dad’s. “Let’s talk about this somewhere else. Yes?”
We nodded in unison.
Jack shook Dad’s hand. “I’ll keep you appraised as details come available.”
Lie
s. I glared at Jack. He planned to tell a murder suspect about new clues in the case? Yeah, right.
Chase steered me out the front door to where Mom waited at his car. He loaded us inside and rolled slowly away from the station.
Jack stood at the front door as we passed. He slowly mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
Yeah, so am I.
Chapter Four
Furry Godmother protip: If you want something done right, do it yourself. Just don’t get caught.
Chase dropped me off at work after taking my parents home. No one had spoken a word after leaving the police station, and I’d found myself thinking irrational things that were still with me an hour later. What were Dad and Mr. Becker fighting about? What if Mr. Becker threatened Dad physically, and Dad pushed him into the freezer to get away from him? What if Dad’s disposition at breakfast was the result of more than a verbal dispute between friends? Why wouldn’t he talk to me about it? I shook off the nonsense for the hundredth time. Even if Dad pushed Mr. Becker into the freezer, which he never would have, he certainly wouldn’t have kicked a doorstop in front of the door. Good grief. No, Dad didn’t hurt Mr. Becker, but he was definitely keeping a secret.
Imogene bagged another box of valentine treats and handed them across the counter to a smiling customer. “Y’all come back.”
She gathered a fresh cloth and spritzed the glass display. “Don’t you just love meeting people from all over the world, Lacy?” She wiped crumbs off the bakery counter in wide sweeping circles. “I traveled for a whole year in the seventies. Did I ever tell you that? Just me, my best friend, her boyfriend, and the occasional hitchhiker, all in a psychedelic love bus. We went to concerts and protests. Met all sorts of people. It was a time of free love and open rebellion. How’s that for complicated?” Her smile faded when her gaze landed on me.
I tried imagining Imogene in bell bottoms and rose-colored glasses. It wasn’t happening. My mind kept snapping back to Dad and all the trouble he was facing.
She discarded the bottle of cleanser and dropped the cloth. “Hey, now. You can’t think that way. You’ll pollute fate with that stinking thinking.” She swung her hips in my direction and stopped a few feet away. “Hey. Stop that.”
I tried smiling but felt the creases in my forehead tattling on me. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to say anything. Those ugly thoughts are written all over your face.”
I blew out a long breath and sucked in a new one. “You’re right. I’m overthinking. Jack’s a great detective. He’ll find the killer, and Dad will be fine.” I worked up a more natural smile. “I was pretty mean to Jack earlier. I probably should apologize.”
Imogene patted a palm against my shoulder blade. “I’m sure he understands. You’ve been through a lot these last few months. This must bring back some tough memories. Not to mention you’re a daddy’s girl through and through.” She dug into her apron pocket. “I’ve got something in here to help clear your mind.”
I stepped back. “Oh, no thank you.” Normally, I accepted whatever Imogene pulled from her apron, purse, or pocket because it made her feel better to help, but the last couple of times I’d welcomed her mystical interventions, my messes had gotten a lot bigger. This one was big enough already.
She frowned.
I flipped my phone over on the counter in search of a distraction. “I met a guy this morning who works at the hall where Mr. Becker was found. If I can find him, I bet he’ll shed some more light on the crime scene.” I searched for a list of local fire departments.
Imogene went back to digging in her apron, unfazed by my initial refusal. “I could’ve sworn I put it in here this morning.”
I did my best not to wonder what “it” was.
The door sprang open with a fresh round of shoppers, and I made my getaway. “I’m going to make a few phone calls. Would you mind keeping watch?”
“Of course.” She went to greet the little crowd with open arms and a thick southern Louisiana accent. “Welcome to Furry Godmother, where every pet is royalty and every day’s a celebration.”
I ducked into the stock room.
Penelope was seated atop Spot, the Roomba robotic vacuum, when I arrived. It seemed Spot had returned to his base for a recharge, and Penelope didn’t like it. She pawed his start button, uselessly.
“What are you doing, sweetie?” I asked. “Is Spot ignoring your commands?”
Her green eyes widened, begging me for help.
“Sorry, hon. Even robots need a break sometimes.”
I dropped onto the chair at my desk and dialed fire station phone numbers until I connected with someone who knew a volunteer named Robbie, who also worked for Mr. Becker’s event hall. I hadn’t found his station, but the guy on the other end of the line was more than happy to hand out Robbie’s cell phone number when I confessed how much I regretted not asking him for it when we met.
I danced my fingers across the keypad while kicking my feet in victory. Too easy.
Robbie answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Robbie,” I started. “This is Lacy. We met this morning. I was being weird. Sorry about that.”
“I remember,” he said. “Not that you were weird. I remember that we met. The situation was definitely weird.”
“Yeah.” I chewed my lip, mulling my words. “That’s why I’m calling. Now that I’ve had time to think about what happened to Mr. Becker, I have a couple questions. I think you can answer some of them for me.”
“I didn’t know Mr. Becker, personally. I just clean and set up for events at the hall.”
“That’s okay. My questions aren’t about him. Can you tell me about the freezer?”
He laughed. “Um, okay. What do you want to know? Make and model? Capacity? Are you looking to buy?” he teased.
“No.” I smiled against the receiver. “What can you tell me about how it worked?”
“It’s a standard walk-in deep freeze. It stays colder than a walk-in fridge.” He paused. “I’m not sure what you want to know.”
“I’m more interested in how Mr. Becker got trapped in there. You mentioned there was a doorstop blocking the door.”
“That’s true, but the safety latch has been broken for a while too. The doorstop was overkill.” He went silent. “Sorry. Bad choice of words.”
“It’s fine. You said the safety mechanism on the door was broken?”
“Yeah. The door is supposed to need an extra push to cause the lock to engage, but the weight of the door is enough to do that, so the crew and I use the doorstop to keep from getting stuck in there.”
I tapped the end of my pen against my forehead. “Do you think Mr. Becker knew that?”
“I don’t know why he would. I’d never seen him at the reception hall before Lana found him there this morning. He owned the building and rented it out, but it wasn’t like he spent time there or anything.”
Was it still possible that his death was an accident? Could he have gone into the freezer and let the door shut without knowing he’d be trapped? “Any ideas why he’d go inside the freezer?”
“None.”
Spot revved to life, nearly giving me ten consecutive strokes. He backed off his charging station with Penelope sitting on top, tall and proud. They bumped into stock boxes and spun toward the open doorway.
“Lacy?” Robbie asked. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Sorry.”
“You gasped.”
“Cat,” I said by way of explanation. “Can you tell me what happens now? Is the hall closed for the night? A week?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Are you worried about your delivery? I can call Lana and see if she knows what’s happening with the party.”
Yikes. I’d forgotten about all those dreidel biscuits. “No. That’s okay. I’ll take care of that. I meant, what happens to the freezer? Will it be replaced? Cleaned out? Scrubbed down?”
“So you are in the market?” He chuckled.
I
released a guilty sigh. “I’m just wondering. Curiosity is an affliction of mine.”
“I guess they could clean everything out and rebuy the stock.” He didn’t sound sure. “As far as I know, there weren’t any contamination issues, and the Swensons’ sixtieth wedding anniversary party is still on for Monday with a kitty entourage. A crew will go in and scrub the place before then.”
“A crew? Not you?”
“No. I’m on call at the firehouse tonight and tomorrow.”
My phone beeped with an incoming message from Scarlet.
“Okay, thank you.” I rushed off the call with Robbie in case there was an emergency and flipped the phone around to check my texts.
Caution: Becker’s death made local news.
I logged into the laptop on my desk and brought up the Chanel Six website. “Oh, no.” Somehow, surveillance footage from the reception hall had found its way out of police custody. A grainy image of Dad and Mr. Becker anchored the frame. Both men waved their hands and made angry faces. This wasn’t good.
The comments were impossibly worse. Dozens of people with usernames that began with CB, presumably for Cuddle Brigade, had already left presumptuous and tersely worded remarks about my dad’s guilt. They accused the police of negligence and favoritism because Dad cared for most of the officers’ pets.
I logged out and called the Normans about their doggie treats. I sighed in relief to learn Mrs. Norman would send someone for the dreidel biscuits right away.
Back out front, curious faces turned toward me as I entered the room. Had they seen the news?
My heart sped. My throat went dry. My mouth was gummy. The beginnings of a panic attack had become all too familiar since being tied to a stage prop last summer and threatened at gunpoint. Thrice. I grabbed a bottle of water from the minifridge behind my counter and cracked it open.
My therapist’s words rushed to mind. Engage the intellect, control the emotion. Expensive words that sounded a lot like try not to think about it to me, but Mom claimed Karen was the best therapist this side of the Mason–Dixon Line, and it was nice to vent to someone and know that what I said wouldn’t get back to my mother. Anywhere else in the district, the chances were iffy at best. Eavesdropping was a sport here.
