Cold Call (Iris Thorne Mysteries Book 1)

by Dianne Emley

  “It didn’t come up.”

  “Were you boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  Somers looked at his daughter, started to lie, then backed off. “Yes… but we were in college. We were almost adults. We were adults. And careful. Safe… you know?”

  “I get the point, Dad. Why did you break up?”

  He sighed. For a time, he had shared Iris’s bright dream and imagined a life as something other than another cop in the family. His grades hadn’t been good enough to join Iris in the European study program and he saw this as only the first time she would leave him behind. But he hadn’t tried very hard to go with her. He’d said he preferred staying put. Who cares about going over there anyway? He’d hidden his fear of the unknown under a cover of macho bravado. It seemed stupid now, but that was how he felt then. He’d been young.

  He’d dated other people, as they’d agreed, and Penny had become pregnant. They’d been careless, as he and Iris had never been, but Iris had held onto her future with clenched fist and would never have made such a trivial mistake. Somers had done the right thing, got married, put the past behind him, provided for his family, and thought he was happy. He was busy and didn’t have time to dwell on what could have been or even what was. But reflective moments had crept in since, uninvited, and although he loved his daughter and would never have undone the events that created her, he’d wondered about those careless encounters with Penny and why he’d let himself slip so easily into a familiar lifestyle. It was as if the dangers of being a cop weren’t as scary as the exploration of his own potential.

  “We grew in different directions.”

  “Oh. Here’s Oaxcatil. It’s north of Mexico City—here.” She pointed to a small dot on the map.

  “Looks like a cow town. I wonder if Camarena with the Tijuana police can help me out.” He looked at his watch. It was 9:00. “I’m going to try him at home.”

  He went upstairs to use the phone in the den.

  Camarena was home and was glad to hear from him. Buddies forever, after that case they’d worked on together. Somers made plans to drive down to Tijuana the next day, Sunday. It would make communications with Oaxcatil easier than trying to have a three-way conversation. He’d spend the day. They’d do it up. Dog races, everything.

  He climbed back onto the bed. “Done.”

  The phone rang.

  “Iris. What a surprise. How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Look, I’m sorry about leaving today. You’re just doing your job.”

  “It’s okay. I know my job’s weird.”

  “It must be hard, day in and day out.”

  “We have a sick sense of humor about it.”

  “Really?”

  “But I’ll spare you.”

  Laughter. Silence.

  “Look, John. I have to tell you something.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Joe Campbell’s father might know something about Alley’s murder.”

  “Joe Campbell’s father? How did you come up with that?”

  “I… heard something. I think you should look into it.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “I just heard something, okay? Can’t we leave it like that?”

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “It’s just something that someone said. I can’t even remember it exactly.”

  “C’mon, Iris. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

  “No, honestly.”

  “Who are you trying to protect?”

  “I’m not trying to protect anyone.”

  “Who are you protecting, Iris?”

  “No one.”

  “You don’t trust me to do my job.”

  “John, I don’t want to fight. I’m just trying to help.”

  “You’d help a lot more if you’d tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ve discounted Alley. Look at what you told the newspaper.”

  “You’re discounting me. I told them something based upon experience.”

  “Alley wasn’t that way. You don’t know.”

  “I’ll tell you what I know. I know a guy who got involved in a lot of money somehow, probably because he let somebody sweet-talk him into thinking he was a big shot. Played on this pride that everyone’s been talking about. That’s the Alley I know.”

  “That wasn’t Alley. I know it wasn’t. And I won’t sell him out.”

  “Iris, this is wearing a little thin.”

  “Look. Just listen to this. Joe Campbell and his parents are meeting Stan Raab and his family at Disneyland tomorrow.”

  “That’s nice, I hope they have a good time.”

  “They’re meeting at ten o’clock. On the Castle Bridge.”

  “You expect me to go on some wild-goose chase? Why not make it easy and just tell me what this is all about?”

  “Joe Campbell’s father has some connection to Alley.”

  “Iris, I don’t have time to fool around with citizens trying to be cops.”

  “If that’s the way you feel about it, fine. I only have one more thing to say.”

  “Go.”

  “You’re wrong about Alley.”

  “Thank you for that unsolicited insight, once again.”

  “And it was good that things turned out the way they did between us. You always accepted the status quo. You never challenged yourself.”

  “Oh, I didn’t? Well, why don’t you think about why you’re obsessed with Alley’s murder?”

  “Because no one else will be his friend.”

  “No, that’s not why. Solving this murder has become bigger than life to you. It’s your cause, your purpose. It makes you feel needed and not so alone. Maybe I’m not the only one who should do some thinking. Let Alley go, Iris.”

  She slammed down the telephone receiver.

  He smashed his thumb on the TV remote control and changed the station. “I hate French movies.”

  Iris finished the bottle of champagne and fell asleep on the couch.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Stan Raab stood on the bridge to the castle with his arm around his wife’s shoulders and watched the swans swim in the moat and his children play. He compared his family to the ordinary folks walking around and found his brood to be a cut above. This was what his hard work had earned.

  “Kyle, Morgan!” Susan Raab yelled. “You’re going to get dirty before anyone gets here. C’mere.” She leaned down and swatted the knees of their Baby Gap overalls, adjusted their matching painter’s caps, and raked her porcelain nails through their spiked, pop-star haircuts, her wedding-ring rocks splitting light like prisms.

  Stan smiled at Morgan, the birthday boy, and thought about the price tag on this Disneyland birthday soirée. The contractors’ final payment on the Tahoe house construction was due this week. As well as the boys’ tuition. The family vacation to a Caribbean resort was coming up. Insurance had refused to pay anything on Susan’s liposuction and tummy tuck. He hated worrying about money. No matter how much you had, it was never enough. There were always so many hands in his pockets.

  “There’s Vi and Vito and Joey,” Stan said. He stood straighter.

  “Joey’s alone?” Susan said. “I thought he was bringing a date.”

  “He’s weird about bringing women around his family. Remember that girl he was engaged to who got cold feet after he told her about the family business?”

  Joe Campbell stood tall and lean, looking like Hyannis Port in crisp khaki slacks and a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His mother, Violetta, held his arm and was bright and happy, talking and smiling, being escorted by her son. She was petite with auburn-tinted hair cut in a cute bob. She wore white pants, a bright print shirt, and practical tennis shoes for the day of walking.

  Joe’s father walked a little apar
t from Joe and his mother, his hands behind his back, turning to watch a uniformed worker efficiently brush a cigarette butt and a candy wrapper into a dustbin, nodding with approval, like a patrón stepping his acreage. He wore a forest green polo shirt, buttoned to the neck, tucked into dark slacks, and dark sunglasses, which hid eyes that could quickly turn from warm to menacing.

  Stan met his friends halfway down the bridge, radiant with family good cheer. “Vito, Violetta, Joey! So good to see you.”

  There was hugging and kissing.

  Susan gathered her squirming children under each arm.

  “Look at these fine boys,” Vito said, bending over to their level.

  Susan Raab beamed. “Say hello to Uncle Vito, boys.”

  The seven-year-old murmured, “Hello, Uncle Vito.”

  Joey’s father laughed and took a lollipop out of his pocket.

  The boy took it, muttered his thanks, and darted away.

  “And here’s the birthday boy,” Vito said.

  “Morgan, say hello to Uncle Vito,” Susan said.

  The four-year-old saw the dark glasses loom close and buried his face in his mother’s legs.

  “Morgan,” Stan scolded.

  “Vito,” Vi said. “He’s scared by your sunglasses.”

  Vito laughed, “Heh, heh, heh,” and firmly patted the boy’s head. He handed Susan the other lollipop he’d brought. “Such fine boys.”

  Susan beamed a bonded smile, “It won’t be too long before Joey will have some grandkids for you to play with.”

  “Tch,” Vito sucked his teeth.

  “Joey’s just a late bloomer, Vito,” Stan Raab said.

  Vito faced his son. “Family is nothing to this one. This is the boy who changed his family name.”

  “Not here, Pop,” Joe said.

  Vi leaned toward Susan. “They’ve been at each other’s throats all morning.”

  “How would you feel, Stan, if your boys changed their family name?” Vito asked.

  “Don’t drag Stan into this,” Joe said.

  “Listen to how my son talks to me.”

  “Let’s put whatever is going on between you two behind us today, okay?” Vi said.

  “Vi, this isn’t your business,” Vito said.

  “Don’t talk to my mother that way,” Joe said.

  “This boy knows everything,” Vito said. “Tell me, since you know everything, since you know so much, you must know how to fix that offshore thing by now. Just yes or no.”

  Stan paled.

  Joey shook his head. “I don’t believe this.”

  “That’s it,” Vi said. “That’s it. Finished. Susan, come on. Let’s go. We’ll leave them here.” She swept Susan and the boys along with outstretched arms.

  “I’ll go with you,” Joe said.

  Stan waited until they were out of earshot. “Vito. I’m glad we have a chance to be alone.”

  “Joey said you and he talked.”

  “I feel responsible.”

  “Stan,” Vito turned the dark sunglasses toward him. “It’s done. Don’t beat yourself up.”

  “I’m the manager of the department.” Stan threw up his hands. “I feel like I have to do something. Did Joey tell you what happened yesterday?”

  “Your Worldco papers were stolen. It’s someone in your office. We figured that.”

  “Vito, I think I know who took the papers.” Stan pulled a snapshot from his pants pocket and handed it to Joe’s father.

  Vito shoved his sunglasses up onto his forehead, where they rested. “Good looking girls. Fat guy.”

  “It was taken at a company picnic. Everyone got a set of pictures. They’re all McKinney employees.”

  “This is the guy?”

  “No.” Stan tapped the photo. “I think this woman, Iris Thorne, stole my Worldco file.”

  “The woman?”

  “She broke into my filing cabinet yesterday. I have proof. She was closer to Alley than anyone else at the firm. If anyone could have put Alley up to something, it’s Iris.”

  “Huh.”

  “Vito, I feel like I have to do something. We go way back, Joe and me. He trusted me. You trusted me.”

  Vito patted him on the back and put the photo into his rear pocket. “Stan, you’ve been a good friend to my son.”

  “Iris is one of my top people. I keep asking myself how she got involved in this. I don’t want to put her in danger.”

  “Stan, I just want to find out what happened. That’s all.” He patted him on the back again.

  “You won’t tell Joe?”

  “You’ve come to me in confidence. Enough business for Sunday. Let’s go on that ride with the singing dolls.” He chuckled, put his hand on Stan’s back, and guided him along.

  “What do we tell Joe we were talking about?”

  “Flowers. For your spring garden.”

  Jimmy Easter was talking to two high school girls, smiling a winner’s smile, charming them with his smarmy good looks and his just slightly over familiar manner.

  Sally Lamb came back with ice cream bars and told the girls to beat it. They looked scared and hurt and scurried away.

  “I’m tired of gettin’ in trouble because you can’t keep your dick in your pants,” Sally told Jimmy.

  “I’m gonna forget how, the long hours we’ve been working.”

  “Just watch the man. If we don’t stay straight and keep our noses clean, we’ll end up in the canyon.”

  “Sleeping with rattlesnakes.”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  Well isn’t this a stupid waste of time?

  Paul Lewin shoved popcorn from a cardboard box into his mouth, scattering puffs on the ground. A young man in a crisp uniform swept up the puffs as soon as Lewin walked away.

  I end up on the Ice Princess’s wild-goose chase so that the Professor can down tequila shooters in Tijuana.

  Lewin crossed the Castle Bridge, keeping a safe distance behind Stan Raab and his party.

  People. Somers and this Thorne broad. Go figure it. At least he’s wised up. Probably found ice cubes up there.

  Lewin watched Joe Campbell’s father laughing at the costumed Mickey Mouse and Goofy characters that were walking around. A crowd of kids were following the plush costumes, pulling on everything they could pull on.

  I know that guy.

  Joe and his father stood on either side of Goofy and Stan framed them in his instant photo camera. Joe’s father put his arm around his son’s shoulders and pulled him close. Joe returned the hug.

  Campbell’s father. From where?

  They gathered around Stan and watched the magic as the photo developed in Stan’s hands.

  “Aw, Joey,” his father said, “You got your eyes closed. Why d’you do that?”

  Joey said nothing.

  “No problem,” Stan said, “We’ll just take another one.”

  “Take off your sunglasses, Vito,” Vi said.

  Vito?

  Stan walked to a trash bin and dropped the in the snapshot.

  Vito pulled on Goofy’s arm, brushing away the kids that were gathered around. “Sorry kids. Goofy’s gotta come here for a minute.”

  Everyone was pleased with the second try. Vi put the snapshot into her handbag. The group walked to the carousel, where Stan’s kids were circling astride painted horses.

  Sally Lamb and Jimmy Easter watched from twenty feet away. Jimmy dropped his spent ice cream stick on the ground and a uniformed worker rushed to sweep it up.

  Lewin went to the trash bin and dug around until he found the discarded photo.

  Vito Campbell?

  A tall man wearing an Hawaiian print shirt with a camera around his neck watched him.

  Lewin approached him. “Hey. You’re security, right?”

  “Sir? I’m just visiting the park.”

  “Get off. I’m LAPD. You an off-duty?”

  “You’re a police officer?”

  “A homicide detective. Are you an off-duty or what?”r />
  “Sheriff’s Department.”

  “Good dough?”

  “Not too shabby.”

  “Tell me something.” Lewin showed him the snapshot. “You know this guy here? Does he look familiar to you?”

  “Yeah. I see him all the time.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sure, it’s Goofy.” The man laughed at his joke.

  “Wiseass.”

  The man laughed some more.

  “So you don’t know him?”

  “He kind of looks familiar, but I couldn’t name him. What are you doing here today?”

  “Just visiting the park.”

  “Why are you interested in this guy?”

  “Just visiting the park, sir.”

  “I could put you outside.”

  “I’m following up on some half-baked lead.”

  “You got a card?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t have a card?”

  “No.”

  “Just thought I might be able to help you out, that’s all.”

  “Thanks anyway.”

  “This is a family place. I gotta keep track of what goes on here.”

  “Nothin’s goin’ on. Nothin’s goin’ down. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Well, see ya around.” Lewin turned and walked straight to Sally Lamb and Jimmy Easter.

  “Good afternoon, scum,” he said to them.

  “If it isn’t the long arm of the law,” Sally said.

  Jimmy laughed and dug his hand into Lewin’s box of popcorn, scattering it on the ground.

  The uniformed park employee eyed the dropped popcorn but stood a hesitant ten feet away with his dustbin and broom.

  “And you brought the psychopath with you. Jimmy Happy Easter Bunny.”

  “Catch me if you can,” Jimmy said.

  “So, who’s paying you to be on the Vito circuit today?”

  “Who?” Sally asked.

  “Vito.” Lewin showed him the photo.

  “Hey, Jimmy. Look, it’s Vito. He’s here, too.”

  “Nice sunglasses,” Jimmy said.

  “Didn’t he just get outta jail?” Lewin asked.

  “Vito? Not Vito Camelletti. You must be thinkin’ of someone else. Vito’s a legit businessman.”

  “Vito Camelletti.” Lewin nodded, finally recalling the name. “You’re working for Vito now, huh? You’d think he could afford better muscle than the likes of you two.”