by Annie Bruce
Copyright @ 2012 by TVMProductions
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, Teresa V. M. Stone, writing as Annie Bruce. All inquiries need to be sent to Teresa V. M. Stone via email at [email protected].
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published in arrangement with Kindle Direct Publishing.
Chapter 1
It was another day in paradise for Maggie Faraday.
“Stop that racket up there. You’re gonna be late for school.”
Another loud thud on the floor told her she was being ignored. Maggie stomped her slippered feet across the hardwood surface of the floor to the base of the stairs and yelled even louder.
“If I have to come up there, you two will be sorry.”
A response of giggling then a sudden quiet let her know she had been heard.
“You still got it, old girl!” The words were said for her own amusement.
She shuffled her feet back towards the kitchen where two unfinished lunches sat on the granite top of the island-style counter. Her bunny slippers were old, tattered and difficult to walk in, but they comforted her in a way that was, well, comforting.
“Owen Cassidy was found dead yesterday in his Brentwood Heights home.” The newscaster’s words stopped Maggie abruptly in her tracks.
Only a moment passed before she jolted herself out of her shock at hearing that name. Scurrying over to the television in the half-family, half-breakfast room, she turned up the volume in a manner that would have caused her to scold her two young children had they done the same.
“The aging millionaire had been a recluse for the past several years and there was speculation that he was gravely ill. Sources close to the police said a suicide note was found near the body.”
Maggie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Why, she had seen Owen Cassidy just three days ago and suicide was the last thing on his mind. Besides, he had looked fit and healthy. Something was wrong, terribly wrong!
Two bundles of energy bounded down the stairs reminding her of where she was and of her priorities. Twins Joey and Jacob were a handful. From the day they were born Maggie knew she would never have another good night’s sleep, and she had been right.
Grabbing the hastily finished lunches and handing them to the boys, Maggie gently but hurriedly guided them out the front door and towards the waiting school bus.
“Where’s the fire, mom!” Jacob parroted one of her frequently used admonishments.
Taking a deep breath she calmed herself not wanting to alarm her boys as they headed off to school.
“Sorry. I just have a lot to do today.” It was the best excuse she could offer. Jacob looked skeptical but led his twin brother Joey to the bus without looking back.
Watching discretely from the front window, she didn’t turn away until they were safely on the bus.
A pang of guilt worked its way from her stomach to her heart at rushing them out the door. Despite their insistence that they were old enough to take care of themselves, she still hovered, even if it was in the shadows, to make sure they were safely on their way. Watching them leave every morning had become her private ritual.
Of course, discretion was paramount. The boys were fourth graders after all, and the thought of their mother watching them would be unacceptable. What would the other children think! Images of her boys being teased and tortured by the other children made her shiver.
Taking a deep breath as the bus pulled away, she turned back towards the television. Flipping through the channels, she searched for more news on Owen Cassidy. Nothing! She grabbed for the phone and dialed nine-one-one.
“What is your emergency?” The operator’s voice was well-trained.
“Well, it’s more of an urgency than a true emergency.” Maggie didn’t mean to sound contrite, but her nervousness over the situation undermined her normally cool composure.
“Ma’am, is this an emergency or not?” The operator’s voice now sounded exasperated.
“I’m trying to find the person handling the death of Owen Cassidy,”
“Are you sure the person is dead? Do you need me to send an ambulance?” The operator was too well-trained.
“No, no, don’t send an ambulance.” She wished there was an easier way of doing this. “Can I talk to an investigator?” That should do it.
“Ma’am, the next time you want to talk to someone please call the non-emergency number instead of nine-one-one.”
Maggie felt her checks burn red at being rebuffed.
“Okay, what is the number for non-emergencies?”
“I’ll connect you.” An audible click sounded as the call was transferred – then silence.
“Homicide!” The voice was deep, authoritative, and boomed at her through the earpiece.
“Yes, I’m looking for the person in charge of the Owen Cassidy death case.” Maggie held her breath, hoping that she had sounded calm and professional enough to the intimidating voice on the other end.
“Ma’am we don’t handle death cases, you have to call the coroner’s office for that. This is the Homicide Division.”
“But, this is a murder.”
“I thought you said it was a death case.”
“Well, that’s what you people think it is. I happen to know that it can’t be a suicide.”
“Ma’am, you’re not making any sense.”
“Look, I just want to talk to someone about a suspicious death if that’s possible.” Now Maggie was losing her patience, although with two energetic boys she was always losing her patience. One of these days she’d find it again, but the person on the other end wasn’t encouraging that prospect at the moment.
“I–,” another loud click sounded in her ear and then the phone went dead. No dial tone – nothing – just dead silence. She stared at the receiver, wondering what to do next when another deep voice boomed across the crackling wires.
“Detective Morris.”
He sounded gruff, but then he did deal with murder and death all day. She was just grateful she didn’t have to start with the nine-one-one operator again.
“Hello, is anyone there?”
“Yes, yes,” she hurriedly pulled the phone back towards her ear. “I want to report a murder.” The words spilled out of her mouth.
“When did this happen?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You don’t know?”
The detective’s reproachful tone left her speechless. Maybe if she talked to him in person it would make more sense.
“Look, Lady. If this is a prank, you can be arrested for that.”
She squirmed in her chair in an uncontrollable response to his harsh words as self-doubt ate away at her dwindling confidence.
Across town, at District Eighteen Headquarters of the Chicago Police Department or CPD, Senior Detective A. J. Morris took the phone from his ear and stared at it in aggravation. His face went blank like it always did when he was trying to control his frustration.
He had been on the receiving end of practical jokes from his colleagues in the recent past and it would be a long while before he’d forget the time they had a call girl report a murder. Arriving to investigate and expecting to find a murder victim he was ambushed with a surprise birthday party, call girl and all, thrown by his fellow officers.
On
ly he didn’t like surprise birthday parties, with or without call girls. Everyone knew it too, yet Detective Paul Geridano, an older more jaded detective had brought in the call girls anyway just to get a reaction out of Morris.
“No, no, it’s not a prank call.” The alluring feminine voice on the other end brought him back to the present. “Look, maybe if I could talk to you in person it would be easier to explain.” Her voice was smooth and professional with a touch of anxiety, an unnerving combination. Morris fought to resist the charming voice that spoke to him through the phone. He had to.
“In person, huh?” It was definitely a setup he mused to himself as he wondered what Geridano was up to now.
“Where would you like to meet?” Playing along, he intended to get the better of Geridano this time and send a message once and for all that messing with him was a bad idea.
“I don’t know. Where does one usually meet in these circumstances?”
From her tone and command of the English language, Morris couldn’t help but think that Geridano had found a higher class working girl to do his dirty work this time.
“I wonder what he has on her!” Lost in thought he unknowingly spoke out loud.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing,” his tone terse as it took him a few seconds to recover.
“Okay, I’ll be here. Just ask for Detective Morris at the front desk.”
“The police station? No, no!” She shot back emphatically. “I can’t go downtown today,” she continued in a panic.
“Look lady, either you come into the station or give me the information over the phone.”
Back in her kitchen, Maggie tried to think of a counter offer as she paced the newly tiled floor and nibbled on her already worn-down thumbnail.
“How about meeting in the middle?” She was proud of her proposed compromise and stood up straight as she waited for the surly detective to agree.
“The middle of where?” His voice became even surlier, if that was possible.
“That’s not what I meant.” Pausing to catch her breath, Maggie was flustered and knew she must have sounded horribly scatter-brained to the homicide detective on the other end. “I meant half way between my home and the station. That way neither of us is tied up in traffic.”
Back at his desk, Morris let out a sigh of exasperation, unconcerned if the woman became offended. The CPD was constantly criticized in the media for its lack of public relations but Morris was finding it a challenge to support the mandate recently set by the Chief, whose words echoed in his brain as a warning. “Treat all complaints with the utmost sincerity and priority.” Too bad the Chief didn’t understand how unrealistic that was and right now, just how frustrating.
Not knowing where the crazy woman on the phone lived he decided to offer up a random location to see how she responded. “I’ll meet you at Dave’s place on Fourth and Main.”
“That’s still too far downtown.”
“Look lady, I don’t have time to play games here.”
“I’m not playing games, Detective—er—Morris – is it? It’s just that I don’t usually go downtown, especially this time of day given all the traffic. Certainly, you know what Chicago traffic is like.”
“Okay, Ma’am, where do you suggest?” He thought it best to try a different approach.
He heard her take a deep breath.
“How about meeting at Florina’s?”
Fancy! “Look, Miss–” He paused to see if she’d give up her name. “I need to know more information before I go anywhere. Do you know the name of the person who was allegedly killed?”
“Owen Cassidy.”
“That’s been ruled a suicide, ma’am.” He kept his tone even, cautious.
“Oh, but it isn’t. I know it isn’t.”
Intriguing! Maybe he did need to meet this woman in person. He recalled the case from the morning report indicating that it was ready to be closed as soon as the county coroner completed the autopsy – standard procedure. It wasn’t his case. Still, he could follow up and hand over the report to the primary.
“Okay, Florina’s it is.” He was willing to agree to almost anything to move the conversation along. “How about an hour from now?” He needed time to dig up as much background information as he could before he walked into anything that had Geridano’s fingerprints all over it.
“Okay, in an hour.” Her sigh of relief echoed across the phone wires leaving him with a tingling sensation. This strange and out-of-the-blue call was having an effect on him. For a moment, he felt more energized about his job, something that had been lost to him lately.
Back in the safety of her home, Maggie began to relax as she sat on her padded kitchen chair and felt the tension in her shoulders ease now that the meeting place had been arranged. Her brother would be at Florina’s today and she didn’t want to be alone in case something went wrong. “But what could go wrong?”
“Excuse me?” His tone told her she was babbling again.
“Oh, nothing,” She needed to learn to keep her thoughts to herself. Normally surrounded by nothing more than a sea of boxes containing documents as she worked alone, there wasn’t anybody around to notice if she talked to herself.
“I’ll see you in an hour. That gives me time to get ready.”
Back at the station, Morris sat up straight in his chair pressing one hand down on his desk. What was this - a date? “Ma’am, can I at least have your name?” When she didn’t respond he added, “How else will I know who to ask for?”
“Oh, of course,” Maggie fumbled with the phone and felt her face burn, this time from embarrassment, glad she was on the phone and not video conferencing as she often did with clients.
“My name is Maggie Faraday. Oh, and I’ll be wearing a blue pants suit, no make it a green one. Dark green!
“Tell you what, ma’am, just wait for me inside, I’ll be the one with the badge!” He hung up before she changed her mind yet again.
Leaning back in his chair, Morris replayed the conversation in his mind. With only ten minutes to gather information he pulled up the morning report and printed out the reference to Owen Cassidy.
Cause of death was listed as a gunshot wound to the head. A suicide note was found. He needed to see the note and the autopsy report but right now the only thing he could do was respond to the call.
And it was the most unusual call he’d taken since becoming a detective. He was afraid he was on his way to meet a certified nut. Although, for a possible nut case she had a very sexy voice, and that made him very curious – almost too curious.
“Don’t even go there old boy.” He chastised himself. It had been a long time since his divorce and since he’d had a date but he wasn’t about to start using witness call-ins as a dating service.
Maggie Faraday, indeed!
Chapter 2
Following up Morris made a note to ask the desk sergeant why the call was transferred to him. For a matter that was considered resolved it was turning out to be anything but. Alarm bells went off that this could be a ruse, but he knew that if he didn’t show up to meet a potential witness and it turned out to be a real lead, heads would roll. Primarily his! Not following up on a lead would have been out of character for Morris, but taking precautions wasn’t.
“Better check this one out.” His voice broke into the silence around him.
Pushing a button on his telephone he searched for the number of the slightly crazy woman with the sexy voice. It proved to be a dead end since the call had been transferred. He couldn’t get her number without alerting the desk sergeant, something he wasn’t ready to do just yet.
Turning to his computer he used a special law enforcement database to look up her name. Her phone number soon followed with other statistical data about Maggie Faraday, but the only thing he proved to himself was that a person named Maggie Faraday did exist. For all he knew, she could be a criminal using stolen identification.
“Well, let’s just hope she didn’t lie about her
name,” he muttered looking at the address–Canyon View Lane. “Hmm. Nice neighborhood too.”
“You talking to yourself again Morris or do you want to have a meaningful conversation?” A derisive tone punctuated Geridano’s words as he walked towards his own desk.
Biting his lip, Morris chastised himself for becoming too lax around Geridano, who had only been in the unit for less than a year. He could tell early on that the older detective, who had unexpectedly been reassigned to the district, was someone he never wanted to trust completely.
Refocusing his attention he quickly scanned the search results finding out what he could about the intriguing Maggie Faraday without anyone – especially Geridano – interfering.
“Focus, Morris, focus.” He really did talk to himself too much but he’d rather talk to himself than anyone else.
Resuming his computer search he explored the territory known as cyberspace. If people only knew how much digital information was out there about them they’d be shocked. And the information wasn’t restricted to law enforcement. Anyone with a little knowledge and initiative – and sometimes money – could get just about anything on just about anyone.
One of the few officers Morris respected worked in the Internet Sex Crimes Division (ISCD). Detective Samantha Johnson. He didn’t know how she could stomach it. Of course, she didn’t know how he could tolerate so much death working in homicide.
Too often she had to deal with lax parents who let their children wander the streets and corridors of cyberspace unattended, getting in over their heads. The most recent case involved a thirteen-year-old girl who ended up a thousand miles away in a hotel room with a convicted sex offender and much older man who rapped her. The parents hadn’t a clue until Detective Johnson showed them the electronic trail of love letters between the two. Of course, the girl thought she was talking to an eighteen-year-old boy, not a man of forty-six.
Starting with his favorite search engine he typed in Maggie Faraday – too many hits. Next, he refined his search to Maggie Faraday and Chicago.
