She paid for her groceries and made perfunctory chitchat with the checkout clerk, her mind on the crime scene that had defined her day and the bookstore that would define her night. Technicians were still at the plot of undeveloped land, along with the medical examiner. He would work through the night, not because the skeletonized remains screamed for sudden urgency, but because the media had found out.
Claudia fired up the Imperial and chugged toward home. For now she was playing it quiet, and so far luck was with her. Word hadn’t leaked that Bonolo was an alias for Farina, nor had neighbors paid any attention when Moody and two cops in plain clothes knocked on the big man’s door, dressed more like Jehovah’s Witnesses than police officers. To no one’s surprise, Farina hadn’t answered and Moody said the place appeared deserted. They could toss his house later, though Claudia suspected Farina already would’ve cleared it of any incriminating evidence about his past, his porn or anything relating to Hemmer. He was a man on the run.
Claudia parked and carried her groceries in. She moved methodically through the kitchen, pulling out plastic containers for the microwave. This business with the body behind Willow Whisper . . . something was squirrelly there. She smiled dryly, thinking of a brief conversation she’d had with Suggs. It was shortly after crime scene uncovered enough of the skeleton to know they had the whole thing. She’d called him with the update.
“Hershey,” he’d said, “I don’t know what stirs my ulcer most, the idea that maybe the body behind Willow Whisper is somehow tied to the Hemmer thing, or that we now got two equally ball-breaking cases on our hands.”
They’d traded their impressions on Manning—his feigned disinterest in what crime scene was doing on his property, his rush to buy Hemmer’s house back from Sandi’s grandparents, his buddying up with the mayor, his bringing in “Bonolo” on the homeowners association. Claudia told Suggs she’d overheard Manning say “Gloria” when he was on his cell phone at the crime scene. She couldn’t tell whether he was talking to a Gloria or about a Gloria, and no way could she know whether the reference was to Addison.
“Yeah,” Suggs said gloomily, “but if somethin’ looks like a skunk and smells like a skunk—”
“Then it probably is a skunk,” Claudia had finished on cue.
The salmon came out overcooked and the broccoli undercooked, but to Claudia they tasted like something from a five-star restaurant. The meal also surprised her with an energy kick she applied to overdue floor exercises and a half-assed session with her oboe. Her spirits were buoyed; real food could do that. She played with Boo for a few minutes, cleaned his litter box, took a fast shower in cold water, and then headed back out into the night. Whatever came her way, she was ready.
* * *
They were in place by eleven o’clock, their vehicles hidden from view. Claudia positioned herself inside the bookstore with a grim-faced Dell Martinlow. Moody huddled behind a concrete post outside the entrance; Suggs had the alley where Farina was expected to park. The chief was no night owl, but Carella was off celebrating his wife’s birthday with a pricey dinner out and Suggs refused to bring in a patrol officer from his already depleted staff. They had portable radios that actually worked in close proximity, and twenty-ounce cups of coffee. All they needed was Farina.
The interior of the store was dim, lit only with a small security light that cast purplish shadows. Claudia could read the apprehension in Martinlow’s face well enough, though. And he should be apprehensive, she thought. He’d lied to her about not knowing that Bonolo was really Farina. She wasn’t surprised at his deceit, but warned him that if he spun another lie or didn’t give an Oscar-winning performance tonight, she’d toss him in jail for the rest of his natural days—and not just any jail.
“I’ve got friends in the state department,” she said. “Cross me and I’ll figure out a way to send your ass to a Turkish prison. Inmates there dig their own toilet holes on a daily basis. You up for that?”
“Talk about lies,” Martinlow mumbled. “But you made your point.”
“Good. Now tell me again what you’re going to do if Farina shows.”
“I bitch about the late hour. I remind him I’m an old man and ask what’s the deal with that.” Martinlow unwrapped a piece of candy and popped it in his mouth. He tucked the wrapper under his watch band. “I tell him he better not be bringing heat onto me.”
Claudia nodded. She hoped that before they surprised Farina, the bookstore owner would get him to say something interesting. He certainly wouldn’t talk after the fact.
“Then what?” she said.
Martinlow sighed. “Then we do our business. I bring him to the front counter. He gives me new tapes. I give him cash for the last batch. You pop out of hiding and I act as shocked as Farina, like I had no idea you’d be lurking in my store. Fat chance he’ll buy it.”
“You don’t like your odds, I can take you in right now.”
He waved a hand. “We’ll go your way.”
There wasn’t much to say after that, and they waited silently for the clock to wind down to eleven-thirty. Even though Claudia didn’t think Farina would show, she felt herself tense with each passing minute. Martinlow’s anxiety showed visibly. He’d chewed so many candies the store smelled like butterscotch air freshener.
Eleven-thirty came and went. Then eleven-thirty-five . . . forty . . . forty-five . . . fifty.
“You better not have called him,” Claudia said to Martinlow.
“I didn’t. I swear. He calls me. I don’t even know how to reach him.”
Claudia’s radio crackled and the chief’s voice came on. “How much longer you wanna give this, Hershey? Bugs are bitin’ me in places I didn’t even know I had. My wife gets a look and—wait a minute, wait a minute.” The radio hissed. “Here come some headlights on low beam.” He paused, then his voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t recognize the vehicle. It’s some kind of sports car, looks like.”
A sports car?
“Hang on, hang on . . . the driver’s parkin’. I’m talkin’ ten feet from me now. Driver door’s opening. Hang on, hang on . . whoa. It’s a broad gettin’ out.”
Moody’s radio sputtered. “Addison?” he asked.
“Everybody stay in position,” Claudia snapped. “It’s her. Got to be her. Go to silence. Let’s play it like it was Farina.” She wheeled and faced the bookseller. “You know who Gloria Addison is?”
“Who?”
“Addison, Addison. Gloria Addison.”
“Uh-uh, no.”
“Well, whether you’re lying or not, you’d better be ready to show me how flexible you can be. Play this like you’d play it if I weren’t here. Got it?”
He nodded and started for the rear door. Claudia threaded her way through the book stands and into Martinlow’s cramped office. She sidled into a corner, concealed by the blue curtain. A second later she heard a rap on the door. Martinlow took a breath, then cracked the door open.
“What that . . . who the hell are you?” he growled.
“Bill sent me.”
Addison’s voice all right.
“I don’t know nothin’ about a Bill,” Martinlow said, “and I sure as hell don’t know nothin’ about a lady. If you’re lookin’ for a book, come back during business hours and use the front door.” He made like he was shutting the door.
“Hey! You do too know about a Bill, and if you want what he sent you’ll open the damned door.”
Claudia risked peeking from behind the curtain. She could just make out Addison holding up a fat package wrapped in plain brown paper.
Martinlow grunted. “I don’t like this.”
“Let me in,” Addison said petulantly. “It’s creepy in this alley.”
Still Martinlow hesitated. “Bill who?”
“Bonolo, you ass. Now come on, already. I’ve got places to be.”
The bookseller opened the door wider, made a show of peeking left and right past Addison, then let her in. “See? All I needed was the magic word.
A fella can’t be too careful.” He started toward the front.
Addison muttered something unintelligible. Claudia caught a whiff of her perfume when she passed, then silently followed, barely breathing for fear of jostling the book racks. Earlier, they’d arranged one book stand so that it ran perpendicular to Martinlow’s makeshift sales counter. She peered through a gap between science fiction novels on its top shelf. Martinlow stood on the seller’s side. Addison stood on the customer side, impatiently shifting from one foot to the other. She’d placed the package on the counter. Even in the dim light Claudia could see all she needed to.
Addison thumped a knuckle on the counter and said, “Come on, sugar. What’re you waiting for? Let’s get the show on the road. You’re supposed to have something for me, too.”
“I got all kinds of things a pretty gal like you might want,” Martinlow crooned. He wriggled his eyebrows. “All kinds of things.”
“Sweetie, whatever you could give me would probably level half this hick town in less than an hour and keep the health department busy for the rest of the decade. Let’s get Bill’s business done and over with.”
“You’re just playing hard to get,” Martinlow said. He tapped the top of the package. “I got to see the goods first. Open it up.”
“Bill didn’t say anything about that.”
“So call him.”
“What? I won’t be able to reach him now. This was supposed to be in and out. I don’t even know what’s in the package.”
“So what do you want to do? I told him last time I wouldn’t accept new product without his first showing me. Are these things even rewound?”
“How the hell would I know?” said Addison. “You think I’d watch this crap?”
Claudia could’ve kissed her for that statement alone, but she waited to see what would happen next.
Martinlow reached below the counter and brought up a thick wad of cash held together with a rubber band. He flipped through the money and told Addison it was her call. She swore. But she fumbled with the string around the wrapping until it was off and the paper fell away. Claudia squinted. Eight videos.
“There. You happy?” Addison said. But she didn’t wait for Martinlow to examine the tapes. She grabbed the money from his hand. “This better come out right,” she said, counting it swiftly. When she was finished she smiled triumphantly. “Pleasure doing business with you, you filthy pervert.”
Good enough. Claudia stepped out. “You’re not the lady I thought you were, Gloria.”
Addison wheeled toward the voice, but before she could respond Martinlow gasped. “Jeez, lady, who the hell are you?”
Claudia stepped out of the shadows and held up her shield. “Both of you, hands on your heads and don’t misbehave.” She waited until they complied, then spoke into the radio. “Got ’em.” The words were barely out of her mouth when Addison made a clumsy lurch toward the front door. Claudia half anticipated the move and was on her before she managed two steps. She yanked Addison back in the same second that Moody, gun drawn, burst through the door, which probably would’ve knocked the younger woman senseless.
“Holster your weapon, Mitch. We’re good here.” She faced Addison to the wall and nodded for Moody to cuff her. When he was done, she spun Addison around. “That was so remarkably stupid, Gloria. Resisting arrest gives us one more charge we can throw at you.” She heard Suggs coming through the back door. “We’re secure,” she called out.
The chief made his way to the front. He wiped sweat from his forehead and glared from Addison to Martinlow. “What a piece of work you two are.” He watched Moody handcuff Martinlow and read him his rights. Then he told him to call two patrol cars for transport. He nodded for Claudia to step off with him a distance. When they were out of hearing range, he said, “I can’t figure whether this is a good thing or a bad thing, getting Addison instead of Farina.”
Claudia smiled. “Oh, I think it’s a good thing. We weren’t even expecting Farina to show. At least with Miss Ditz I have something to work with.”
“You need me anymore?”
“No. It was comforting to have muscle at the front and back. But it’s all talk and paperwork from here on out.”
“Good, ’cause I got a cramp in my leg from crouchin’ by that stinkin’ dumpster. I’m gonna head home, see if I can work it out. Call me later.”
“Yes, sir.”
Suggs stopped halfway to the back door. He turned to her. “You just call me ‘sir’?”
“You know, I might’ve. I just might’ve.”
“Damn. Nobody was even within earshot to hear it.”
Claudia shrugged. “I’ll see if I can work it in again, sometime when we’re in a crowded room. Sir.”
He gave her backhanded wave, then headed out.
Addison leaned sullenly against the wall and refused to make eye contact when Claudia returned to the front. Martinlow reacted just the opposite, pleading with his eyes for her to honor their deal. She was still irritated with him, but gave him a slight nod. He’d done his bit.
“Mitch,” she said, “when the units get here have them take Mr. Martinlow to county lock-up. Get him processed. Tell them to bring Miss Addison to the station for questioning. I’ll get her through the system later.” She pretended not to notice when Addison glanced up, startled.
“Got it,” said Moody. “Anything else?”
“No, I think—”
“Wait a minute,” Addison said, a thin note of hope in her voice. “I’m not under arrest?”
“I’m still making up my mind. Mitch? I’m out of here. As soon as you’re done with Mr. Martinlow, go home and get some sleep.”
“What about you? It’s after midnight. You must be beat.”
“Nah. I’m wide awake.” She looked at Addison for a very long minute. “In fact, I feel downright energized.”
Chapter 27
The video camera was old, a relic taken as evidence in a low-ball burglary case that predated Claudia’s arrival to Indian Run. According to Suggs, the case went south when the suspect jumped bail. No one ever claimed the camera, so Claudia occasionally put it to use for suspect interviews. Right now the camera was positioned on a tall metal file cabinet in her office. It beamed down at a chair beside her desk. She had also arranged the tapes confiscated from Martinlow’s bookstore beside a heap of file folders on the corner of her desk. The top file had Addison’s name on it, and Claudia had stuffed it with enough paper to make it bulge significantly. Finally, she had turned on the faucet in the utility sink just enough so that it would drip annoyingly, and she’d aimed a small fan toward the chair Addison would take, then set it on high. When she was satisfied that she’d made her office environment as uncomfortable as possible, she stepped into the multipurpose room where an officer was babysitting the young woman. Addison looked up, her expression a blend of apprehension and defiance.
“Thanks for hanging around, Officer,” she said. She removed her jacket so Addison could get a look at the .38 holstered at her waist. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Okay, Lieutenant. Give a holler if you need me to come back.”
“Will do.” She turned toward Addison. “Come on. Let’s talk in my office. It’s not as hot in there.”
Addison followed wordlessly and sat in the chair beside the desk. Claudia closed the door, then leaned against the file cabinet and for a moment just stared at her. The fan immediately began agitating the young woman. Each time it rotated past her, Addison fumbled at her hair, trying to keep it in place.
“We’ve got a situation here, Gloria,” Claudia said at length. “Actually, you’ve got more of a situation than I do, because when I leave I’m going home to a warm bed. But you might be headed for a hard mattress in a cold jail cell.”
Claudia pointed at the video camera and explained that she would be taping their conversation for the record.
“I thought I wasn’t under arrest.”
“At this very moment you’re not. But if that’s w
hat winds up happening, then it’s to your advantage to have a record of our conversation, don’t you think?”
At first Addison said nothing and Claudia worried that she might start screaming for a lawyer or simply walk out. But she only shrugged unhappily. Claudia quickly flipped the video camera to “record,” and a red light came on. She established the date, the time, their identities and the circumstances. Then she leaned back against the cabinet and crossed her arms.
“There is some good news here, Gloria. A first offense on a porn charge isn’t even a felony. It’s a first-degree misdemeanor. You might get off with a stiff fine and probation. On the other hand, the courts take a dim view of porn these days, what with the hubbub over porn and kids, so it’s possible you could wind up doing as much as a year. Really, how you come out of this depends on how lucky you get with a judge. But then, I’m sure you knew all that before you decided to drop off eight videos at Mr. Martinlow’s bookstore.” She gestured at the stack on her desk.
“That’s not how it was.”
“Then how exactly was it?”
Addison fought with her hair and frowned at the utility sink.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
Claudia rapped lightly on the file cabinet. “Hey. Gloria. Try to stay focused. I’m probably the only one who can help you out of the jam your good friend ‘Bill’ put you into.”
“He’s not my good friend.”
“You said that once before, but if he’s not your lover and he’s not your friend, then why would you go out close to midnight to break the law on his behalf? I mean, you do understand that he set you up, don’t you?”
Addison squirmed in her chair, trying to angle herself away from the fan. Claudia moved close to her, then crouched down to her eye level. “Look at me, Gloria, and listen. He had a date with the bookseller and if he’d kept the date instead of sending you, he’d be in this chair right now, not you.” The fan kicked their hair into a cloud. Addison tried to sit further back, but Claudia didn’t budge. “Obviously he wasn’t sure if going would be safe. And by now he knows it wasn’t, of course, because you’d have already delivered the cash to him, or at least given him a call. Talk to me, Gloria. Tell me where Farina is. Tell me how you met him. Take me through everything.”
The Claudia Hershey Mysteries - Box Set: Three Claudia Hershey Mysteries Page 68
