“Is Sonya a junkie?”
“Good question. I only met her once and she seemed okay, but Monica said she’s been jittery and losing weight. She also suspects that Sonya’s hanging out with the wrong people.”
“She’s got that right.”
“What worries me even more is that if Tyrone plans to tie up all loose ends, then Sonya could be in danger.”
“You should phone Stan so he can pass the news about Sonya to his cop contacts,” Marie said. “It’ll earn you some brownie points.”
Casey doubted it. “I have the lead investigator’s number. I’ll call him myself.”
Truthfully, she would rather not hear Stan’s I-told-you-not-to-go-to-that-neighborhood speech.
“Stan’s our boss.” Marie prepared to pull over. “Shouldn’t you tell him first?”
“Don’t stop. Keep driving.”
“It’s all right. We’re not being followed.”
How could Marie be a hundred percent sure? “We’re not far enough away from the park.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
Easy for her to say. Marie didn’t know what it was like to be beaten, to have Tyrone’s raging eyes only inches from her face. “How about you call Stan while I call the investigating officer?”
“You sound like your bossy old self,” Marie remarked.
“I’ve never been bossy.”
Marie laughed. “There’s the Casey I know.”
Did the woman need reminding that seconds-in-command were supposed to be the ones making the decisions and assigning tasks?
Casey stepped out of the vehicle and looked around. She pulled out the number Novak had given her and dialed. When she got voice mail, she left a message, then called Denver. At least he was answering his phone.
Denver swore a couple of times at her update. “You shouldn’t be back there. Leave right now. We can locate the daughter.”
“How? You don’t know Sonya’s last name, license plate, where she lives, or even where she works. And asking Monica would arouse suspicion, especially since she doesn’t trust cops,” Casey replied. “What if Marie and I drove back there and got the plate number while she’s inside the house?”
“Too risky. Tyrone and Ricky could be nearby.”
“I’m with a coworker in her SUV. They don’t know the vehicle. I could just snap a photo of the license plate as we drive past her car. It’s not like I’d have to go in or anything.”
“Talk to Novak,” Denver said. “I mean it, Casey.”
“I’ve tried, but he’s not answering,” she replied. “I’ll try again in a few minutes.”
“Make sure you do.” He hung up.
As Casey climbed back into the vehicle, Marie said, “I have to go. Stan wants me on the M20 as soon as possible.”
“We can’t leave.”
“Why not?” Marie asked.
Casey hesitated. “I’m really worried about Monica. She got into the vodka right away and already seemed on edge. The granddaughters were being difficult, so Monica broke up an argument by slamming a knife through a donut.”
Marie’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”
“No.” Casey shook her head. “Something else scares me even more. If Tyrone Ripple wants one last payoff and to tie up another loose end, he could go after Monica and Sonya at the same time. Trust me, Marie, the man’s ruthless. It won’t bother him if little kids are around.”
“Then call your cop contact again.”
Casey did so and again got voice mail. “Damn it. He’s not picking up.”
“Call Monica,” Marie suggested. “Maybe she can go to a friend’s.”
Casey shook her head. “I think that Elsie was her only friend. I know I’m sounding paranoid but . . .”
She dialed Monica’s number. By the fifth ring, she still hadn’t answered. Monica never took this long to answer a phone. On the other hand, she could be yakking with Sonya.
“She always answers her phone,” Casey murmured. “Can we do a drive-by and see if Sonya’s car is there?”
“Maybe Monica’s in the bathroom, or Sonya already left with the grandkids and Monica’s having a nap.”
She hadn’t been feeling great, so that could be possible. But given the stakes, shouldn’t they find out? As Marie pulled away, Casey tried Monica’s number again. After ten rings, there was still no answer.
“I don’t like this,” Casey murmured.
“Call again.”
“I just did.”
“So what?”
Casey stared at her. “Now who’s sounding bossy?”
“If you call back right away,” Marie added, “maybe she’ll realize someone really needs to talk to her.”
Casey tried once more. Still no answer. She tapped her foot and rubbed her hands on her capris. What if Sonya had shown up with Ricky and Tyrone? Sonya and Ricky could distract her while Tyrone went after cash and jewelry. Thanks to Sonya, he’d know exactly where to look.
“Please, let’s just drive by Monica’s,” Casey urged. “See if Sonya’s car is there.”
“And if it isn’t?” Marie replied. “You’ll want to go inside, and then what?”
“I’ll do a quick check to make sure she and the kids are okay.” The thought of facing that dangerous freak made Casey clammy. “If I’m not out in five minutes, then call 9-1-1.”
Marie frowned. “It’s a risky move. Stan won’t be happy.”
Making Stan happy wasn’t her priority.
“If I’m late for work, I’m blaming you,” Marie added. “I’m not risking a disciplinary note in my file.”
“Why would Stan discipline you when protecting seniors is supposed to be our priority?”
“Need I remind you that the last time you went out of your way to protect someone you wound up in the hospital? You damn well know that Stan expects us to put our personal safety first.”
Casey sighed. The old Marie was definitely back. No point in arguing with her, so Casey kept her mouth shut. She watched for the Echo and a white van all the way to Monica’s street, but didn’t see either. As they approached Monica’s house, Casey leaned forward for a better look.
“Sonya’s car isn’t at Monica’s or anywhere else on this street. Pull up across from her place.”
As Marie did so, she said, “What excuse are you going to give for returning so quickly?”
Casey removed her sunglasses. “That I can’t find my sunglasses and thought I might have left them inside.”
“Good luck. If I don’t see you in five minutes, I’m calling the cops.”
Casey stepped out of the SUV. Her heart thumped as she studied each window, then hurried across the street and climbed the steps. The ringing doorbell prompted no noise from inside. She waited several seconds, then rang again. Finally, the door opened. Monica stood there with a tissue in hand.
“Goodness, Casey, I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”
“I can’t find my sunglasses and thought I might have left them here. I called but there was no answer. Is everything all right?”
“For the most part. I got the girls to watch a video in their room so I could make myself presentable.” She swept her hand through her hair. “My phone must be downstairs.”
“Sonya hasn’t come by yet?”
“No.” Monica’s mouth tightened and she looked away. “Guess she has a lot of things to take care of.”
“I see.” Casey nodded. “I might have left my glasses in the kitchen.”
Monica marched down the hall, while the sound of cartoon characters came from upstairs. What was the edginess about? Did she not like people dropping by unexpectedly or was she irritated that Sonya hadn’t yet shown up? Maybe she knew something about Sonya’s activities.
Wait a sec. Monica couldn’t be a paid informer, could she? She might be hard up for money, but Elsie had been a good friend. Monica was truly devastated by her death. Unless her death was accidental, something that Tyrone’s associates hadn’t expected
to happen. It was easier to believe that Monica had unknowingly passed on information about Elsie without realizing who Sonya was giving the information to. But had Monica begun to figure out the truth?
“I don’t see your sunglasses,” Monica said from the kitchen.
“They must have fallen on the sidewalk or between the seats in my car. Sorry about that.”
Casey’s phone rang. Marie.
“A blue Echo just pulled in the drive. Get out of there!”
“Okay.” As Monica reappeared, Casey gave her an apologetic smile. “My ride’s pressuring me to get going.”
She almost reached the front door when Sonya stepped inside. Casey tried not to stare at the red nose and watery eyes. Sonya’s stare was shadowed with caution.
“You’re back,” Monica said, her fixed smile a sharp contrast to the flicker of disapproval in her eyes. “You remember Casey from the other day?”
Sonya glanced at her mother, then back at Casey. “Yeah. What brings you here?”
Casey’s voice nearly caught in her throat. “I popped by earlier to return something, then thought I’d forgotten my sunglasses. But they’re not here.” She held her breath, praying that Sonya wouldn’t ask what she’d returned. “Anyway, I’ve got to go.”
“Bye now,” Monica said with forced cheerfulness.
Brushing past Sonya, Casey could almost feel the woman’s eyes burning a hole in her back. As long as Sonya didn’t call Tyrone, everything would be okay.
Casey shut the door and jogged down the steps, memorizing the Echo’s license plate as she passed by. Two car seats were fastened in the back. Terrified that Tyrone was nearby, Casey kept moving. Her ribs protested at every step. By the time she climbed into Marie’s SUV, she was sweating.
“You look totally freaked out,” Marie remarked. “Did Sonya say anything to you?”
“Not much, but she was suspicious.” Using the Notes icon on her phone, she typed in the license plate number.
“That woman looks like a skanky junkie, if you ask me,” Marie remarked. “Drugs would be all the motivation she needs to do anything Tyrone says.”
“We need to go,” Casey said. “She could be calling him right now.”
Marie took off. “It’s hard to believe that Monica wouldn’t know, or at least suspect, her daughter’s drug problem. I’d sure in hell know if my kids were looking and acting differently.”
“Yeah, and now I’m wondering exactly how much Monica knows about all of this.”
Casey’s head began to pound.
TWENTY-NINE
Casey glared at the text message from a coworker. Sorry about postponed wedding. New date set? Before parting company a couple of days ago, she and Marie had drifted into a conversation about their personal lives. Casey told her about the postponement. She’d planned to tell everyone when she was next in the office, but apparently Marie couldn’t wait to spread the news. Casey had been bombarded with sympathy texts and questions.
“What do you think?” Summer asked, emerging from the bridal shop’s dressing room.
Casey’s jaw dropped. “Barb was right. It is gorgeous. That color is brilliant on you.”
The vibrant turquoise dress seemed to float, and the delicate swirl of crystals on the bodice added a splashy touch.
“The waist looks a bit loose,” the clerk replied, slowly circling Summer. “But we can fix that.”
“As long as I don’t gain weight between now and the new wedding date.” Summer turned to Casey. “It won’t be far off, right?”
“That’s the plan.” When this was over and Tyrone Ripple in jail, she and Lou would choose a new date. A late-October wedding would be lovely, provided they could pull it off by then. Many of Barb’s ideas would have to be scrapped for something simpler.
“Would you like to try on a gown?” the clerk asked Casey. “Mrs. Sheckter set one aside for you.”
Casey saw the hope in the clerk’s eyes, but based on Barb’s previous choices, Casey didn’t have much faith. “Is it big and frilly?”
The clerk smiled. “Not as much as the last one you tried.”
“Maybe I’ll browse a bit first.”
“Take your time,” she replied. “I need to prepare this young lady’s dress for alteration.”
As the clerk attended to Summer, Casey was drawn to a rack of ivory gowns. She hadn’t gotten far with the browsing when the phone rang.
“This is Monica.”
Casey heard a loud sneeze and coughing. “You sound worse than you did yesterday.”
“I am. I’ve had pneumonia twice before and this feels the same.”
Familiar young voices squabbled in the background, and Casey felt sorry for her. “How long are your granddaughters with you this time?”
“All day, but I need to get to the doctor. I’m not well enough to drive. My head’s fuzzy and I can’t think straight.”
“Oh dear.” Casey had a feeling she knew where this was going.
“Sonya’s at work and the manager won’t let her leave.” Monica lapsed into a coughing fit.
So the woman hadn’t been arrested yet. Too bad. Surely the cops were watching Sonya. On the drive back to MPT with Marie, Casey had left a message with Novak, providing Sonya’s license plate number and her location. He hadn’t bothered to return her call and offer so much as a thank-you.
“I have a huge favor to ask,” Monica said after the coughing stopped. “My appointment’s at two-thirty and I was wondering if you could drive me there. It’s only fifteen minutes from my house. I’d take a taxi but I’m low on funds right now.”
Yep. Exactly what Casey had feared. She hated the idea of returning to that neighborhood again, but suggesting that Monica should take a bus would be cruel.
As if reading her thoughts, Monica said, “Please, Casey? You’re the only one I can count on right now.” Her voice sounded shaky.
She really did sound awful. Casey was tempted to call Marie or even Lou for assistance, but both were working right now. Damn. Casey checked the time. It was just after 1:00 PM. She’d have time to take Summer home, then head over.
“Okay. I’ll try to be there in about forty minutes. But it’ll help if you and the girls are ready when I get there.”
“I’ll do my best, and thank you.” Monica wheezed through her good-bye.
Casey approached Summer. “Monica’s really sick and needs a ride to the doctor. She also has her granddaughters with her, and since their mom can’t get away from work, I’m going to take her.” Casey braced herself for the rebuke.
“Must be hard driving all the way to Bellingham and back for work,” Summer replied.
Casey frowned. Bellingham, Washington, was just over an hour’s drive from here. It was also a shopping mecca for Canadians who thought that cheaper gas and food were worth the wait at the Canada-U.S. border.
“What makes you think that Sonya works in Bellingham?”
“Because of something I heard her say on the phone.”
The clerk stepped back and nodded to Summer. “All done. You can change now.”
“Thanks.”
Casey thought back to their first visit with Monica. She recalled that Summer had gone to the bathroom and returned just as Sonya arrived. She also vaguely recalled that Sonya had been on the phone.
“I know this sounds weird,” Casey said, “but can you remember exactly what Sonya said on the phone? It could be important.”
Summer’s gaze drifted to the floor. “It was something about how her latest delivery to Bellingham was the most profitable yet.”
Adrenalin jolted through Casey. “Did she give any clue as to what she’d delivered?”
“No, sorry. That’s all I heard.”
Was Sonya selling drugs or fencing stolen jewelry? While Summer changed, Casey scrambled for Novak’s business card in her purse. She dialed his number but once again got voice mail. Man, the guy had to be deliberately avoiding her calls. Well, screw that. She called Denver and got the same response.
Casey left a message, blurting out her theory about Sonya’s trips and adding that she’d be picking Monica up in an hour.
When she hung up she found the sales-clerk gaping at her with alarm. It was a lot like the expression she wore the last time Casey had to dash out of here.
“Do you mind me asking what you do for a living?” the clerk asked.
“I work in security.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “That’s more exciting work than I thought it would be.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
The clerk wrote up the alteration notes, then handed Casey a ticket stub. “The dress should be ready in a week to ten days. Maybe you’ll try some gowns then?”
“Absolutely.”
Summer emerged from the dressing room. “Should I come with you?”
“Probably not. Monica could be contagious, and I’m sure you won’t want to be squished in the back with two noisy toddlers.” She paused. “Wait a sec. I don’t have car seats. This isn’t going to work.”
“Maybe Monica has them in her car.”
“Good point.”
Casey’s phone rang.
“Got your message,” Denver said. “Good theory about fencing the jewelry. Did you tell Novak?”
“I left a message, as usual. He never calls back.”
“He’s busy and under a lot of pressure to get this thing solved, Casey. Returning calls from MPT security officers isn’t at the top of his to-do list.”
“Well, let’s hope he’s got people watching Sonya because she claims to be at work right now, which is why Monica called me. She admitted she’s too broke to call a taxi, and she really does sound sick, Denver.”
“Okay.” He sighed. “I’ll talk to Novak, or someone on his team.”
“Any luck finding Tyrone?”
“Not that I’m aware of. You’re not driving out there in your own vehicle, are you?”
Casey thought about it. The solution came quickly. “I’ll take Rhonda’s station wagon. She wants me to run it regularly anyway.”
Knock Knock Page 22
