by Annie Bruce
“Well, well, well. Looks like Maggie Faraday is legit.”
“Like I said Morris, you need to get out more often. Seems the only person you can talk to is yourself.” Unexpectedly, Geridano’s voice broke his concentration.
But he was right. Morris didn’t trust anyone. Not anymore.
He continued to read about Maggie Faraday. Her picture was displayed prominently on the first page of her web site. “Not bad looking, either.”
“Did you say something, Detective?”
Carlton Davis stood before him, a wishful look on his face, the younger man eager to partner with him. Only thing was Morris didn’t want a partner. He didn’t want any partner. He worked alone – at least from now on.
He didn’t trust anyone enough to have them as a partner. Not since his was killed during a robbery gone bad and because his fellow officers were slow to back him up, and the fact that Smith was rumored to be on the take had a lot to do with it. He couldn’t prove it but in his gut he knew it was true. He could never forgive those officers for letting his partner and the force down and everyone in the district knew it.
Morris was in court that day testifying on another case and by the end of the day his partner was dead. Internal investigations proved inconclusive and the matter was relegated to the ‘in limbo’ status, meaning the investigation was effectively moth-balled.
“No, Davis, just talking to myself again.”
Disappointment spread across the younger man’s face as he walked away.
“Hey, Davis.”
The younger man turned back.
“Yes, Detective,” his tone eager but tense.
“Look, just call me Morris, okay?”
“Okay.” Davis relaxed a little, but only a little.
“What do you know about the,” Morris paused, pretending to look over his notes, “–the Cassidy case?”
“That’s the rich old guy up in Brentwood Heights who committed suicide.”
“When?” He asked the question even though he knew the answer.
“Yesterday.” Davis paused, waiting for more questions. When none were forthcoming he turned to leave. Stopping in his tracks just a few feet away he turned back.
“Only thing is, Fredericks who caught the initial call isn’t ready to rule it a suicide.”
That got Morris’ attention.
“Really. So, Fredericks has the case.”
Arnie Fredericks was okay. Morris didn’t know him well but knew he wasn’t involved in his partner’s death and that was a good start.
“Yeah, Fredericks and Jennings.”
Now Jennings was another matter. Jennings wouldn’t know a piece of evidence if it were in plain view. The only reason he was a detective was because his daddy was a local Alderman and everybody knew it – including Jennings. Morris just bet that Fredericks could use some help on this case, and this was just the opening he needed.
The call from Maggie Faraday was proving to be interesting after all and Morris could use an interesting case right now. Lately, nothing but drug-related deaths and gang homicides were coming across his desk and he was becoming weary of the daily frustrations associated with trying to investigate cases where despite numerous witnesses, nobody saw anything.
“Thank you Maggie Faraday.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Morris hadn’t realized Davis was still in hearing range. He was quiet – too quiet. And that made Morris suspicious. He didn’t know much about the younger detective who was still too new to the district to be a topic of the rumor mill.
“Nothing, Davis.”
He looked confused but Morris couldn’t deal with that right now. He had to leave if he wanted to make his meeting with the one and only Maggie Faraday. The day suddenly looked more promising.
On his way out he paused, “–and, Davis, if anyone asks, I’m out on a call.”
“Yes, sir!” He knew Davis also spent time in the army during the first gulf war and the discipline typical of military personnel still hadn’t worn off. It wasn’t unusual for law enforcement to attract military veterans given the similarities in training and missions. His military experience was one of the few things he knew about the younger detective, and one of the few things they had in common.
Morris rarely shared where he was going with anyone, except the desk sergeant. Perhaps Davis would prove useful. The younger detective seemed to know what was going on around the station and was eager to help – another reason Morris was suspicious. But he just might be a good source of intelligence from time to time, especially when it came to keeping an eye on Geridano.
Preoccupied with his thoughts Morris didn’t notice the older detective around the corner of the building watching him as he left the station.
A cloud of smoke spiraled up above Geridano’s head as he stood out of Morris’ view and watched him pull away in his unmarked vehicle. Tossing his unfinished cigarette carelessly to the ground, he decided to follow the arrogant detective and see what he was up to.
He didn’t like Morris and he knew the feeling was mutual. Morris was too by-the-book, made the rest of them look bad, didn’t know how to relax. Took the surprise birthday party with the call girl all wrong. Even complained to the boss. Said Geridano better stay out of his personal business or else. Well, nobody threatened Geridano. Nobody!
Less than a mile away, Morris maneuvered his vehicle through the inner city and towards the near north suburbs, a place rarely visited. Even though the area was still under the jurisdiction of the CPD, the crime rate was fairly low and needed minimal police support.
Over the past ten years a number of young entrepreneurs started a revival in the area that kept growing and it was now one of the more desired places to live. The plan was for this area to have its own police force, but politics and budget cuts had gotten in the way and halted any progress.
Leaving the inner city behind was a welcoming break from his usual routine. Catching the call that day was proving to be beneficial but he needed to wait until after he met with the reluctant-to-talk-on-the-phone Maggie Faraday to see if it really was a lucky break.
The more Morris thought about the current situation, the more humorous it all seemed. He started to laugh. Nobody to hear him but he laughed hard all the same.
A short distance behind, Geridano noticed Morris throw his head back and laugh. Fearing he was made, he turned onto a nearby street. He’d pick him up on the other side. Coming to a stop he saw the unmarked vehicle heading northwest.
“Where’s he going?” Geridano muttered in exasperation. He sat and waited until the other vehicle drove far enough away before continuing his pursuit, when a horn screamed out from behind him.
“Alright already.” It was said through gritted teeth. “Jerk!” Geridano had a mind to pull the impatient driver aside and read him the riot act but he didn’t want to waste time and risk losing his prey.
Too late. A large truck cut him off and before he could clear his way around it Morris had disappeared.
“Damn!” Geridano turned his vehicle around and headed back towards the station. He’d just have to find out where Morris was going another way.
Chapter 3
Maggie arrived at the restaurant early. Anxious at being part of a murder investigation, her nervousness threatened to undermine her normal business composure.
The restaurant wasn’t officially open but since she was part owner and since her partner was her brother it wasn’t difficult to gain access. Sitting just inside the entrance, her back to the kitchen and most of the dining area, she would see the detective before he saw her, an advantage she needed.
“Hey, sis!”
Maggie nearly jumped out of her chair.
“You scared me to death.” It took a moment to catch her breath. “Don’t do that again!” Her hand pressed firmly against her chest as she tried to steady her pounding heart.
Admonishing her younger brother she fought feeling guilty for her tone. Growing up he was the source of many
embarrassing moments, especially around her boyfriends. She still had a long way to go to even the score.
“Why so jumpy?” He teased.
“You snuck up on me, that’s why!” Maggie’s tone was harsher than she intended.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that I’m meeting a very important client today.”
“Who?”
Maggie knew from experience that Donald wouldn’t leave until she answered his question.
“A detective, okay!”
To her relief he accepted what she said and returned to the kitchen. It wasn’t a stretch really. She worked with law enforcement throughout the country, so her brother didn’t seem surprised at her answer.
Maggie took another sip of the hot coffee that Andrea Serrano had placed before her. Andrea was always fussing over her and her children when she brought them in, especially since Maggie’s own parents had passed away. Andrea’s husband had passed away recently and her only daughter was married and living overseas, so Andrea doted on Maggie and her two boys at every chance.
Detective Morris showed up promptly as scheduled, his car giving him away. Most police cars, even unmarked ones, looked like police cars. So did the officers who drove them - even when not in uniform they had a signature style of dressing. Suit, tie and those forever famous shoes. Departments across the country must have a special deal with the shoe manufacturer because no matter where Maggie went, the shoes were the same. Patten leather in black or brown. She wondered if they were actually comfortable.
To her surprise, a tall handsome man pulled his lithe body out of the driver’s side of the vehicle. He paused before closing the door and looked around cautiously, taking in his surroundings. That was another thing cops did, especially experienced ones.
When his visual surveillance reached the restaurant his head stopped and held its position, looking directly at her. He closed the car door - slowly. He was a man in control. Maggie felt mesmerized by this almost complete stranger as he walked the short distance from his car to the restaurant.
Through her own surveillance, Maggie noted that he wasn’t wearing the typical cop shoes after all. Intrigued, she pulled the cup of coffee to her lips and let her eyes work their way up his athletic frame to the broad shoulders that told her he worked out on a regular basis. His light brown hair was short, but not too short, his eyes covered by a pair of aviator sun glasses.
There was something about the way he carried himself that held Maggie’s attention and made her feel safe. Her gut instinct told her that Detective Morris was the right man for the job and maybe something else!
“Maggie Faraday, you’re bad!” Her inner voice screamed at her. She didn’t usually allow herself to be so wanton, especially about someone she was meeting for the first time.
Her eyes locked on the tall handsome law man as he lessened the distance between them. Pulling off his sun glasses, he stepped through the first set of double doors and looked around. Even from a short distance Maggie was struck by his eyes. As blue as any she’d ever seen, they complimented his light brown hair that was slightly wind-swept giving the impression he’d just walked off a modeling shoot.
Hunk! It was the only word to describe the devastatingly handsome man who walked through the restaurant door and into her life. Catching her breath she dragged her eyes away from the gorgeous detective, hurriedly looking down to give herself time to stop blushing. Andrea opened the second set of doors and greeted him.
Morris pulled easily on the interior restaurant door at the same time a small bundle of energy thrust it towards him.
“Welcome, Detective Morris.” It was clear that the older woman was expecting him.
“Interesting, very interesting.” He made sure he kept his thoughts to himself this time, his lips held tightly together.
“Right this way. Maggie is waiting for you.”
“So, they know her on a first name basis.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, nothing. Just mumbling to myself.”
The older woman cast him a weary glance.
He straightened his back and prepared himself for any possibility as he was directed to a table just inside the doors – the only one occupied.
He recognized her immediately. Her picture on her web site didn’t do her justice. She was much more beautiful, much more striking than any photograph could ever show. Too bad this was business. He forced himself not to notice her deep green eyes or her luscious red lips that were so full he wanted to run his tongue over them. Nope, he didn’t notice them at all!
Maggie Faraday rose gracefully from her seat and extended her hand and began to mesmerize him in a way that no other woman had before. She was definitely a business woman but with all the grace and beauty of a goddess.
“Thank you for meeting me, Detective Morris.”
“Of course.” He took her hand in his and the contact was electrifying. She felt it too, her eyes widening in response as she quickly pulled her hand away. She gestured for him to sit as she did the same.
He looked around the empty dining room, seating himself across from her.
“Do you know the owners?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”
“Family restaurant?” Morris let the question hang in the air as his eyes connected with hers and the ball of this game they seemed to be playing was now in her court.
Maggie didn’t – no couldn’t avert her eyes as the man now sitting across from her waited. She became abruptly aware of how he could ask pointed questions both on the phone and in the first few minutes of their formal introduction. Then again, he was a detective.
“You could say that. It’s my brother’s place and I own a small share.”
Maggie felt herself squirm. Now why did she reveal that! She preferred to remain a silent partner. The slip made her realize just how nervous she was - or just how forceful the disarmingly handsome detective’s presence was. Her work with police up to this point had always been as a consultant and not as a possible informant to murder. The whole experience put her on edge.
“Well, “she cleared her throat, “–shall we get started?” Her words sounded uncharacteristically as they echoed in my head. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes, silently chastising herself to chill out. When she opened her eyes, she found him studying her.
As the only ‘guests’ in the restaurant this time of day she felt isolated and just wanted to put this ordeal in her rear view mirror. So eager was she to hand this matter off to the good detective she convinced herself that after today she could go to back to her straight-forward, uneventful life.
“So what makes you think there was a murder?” His question, and tone, told her it wouldn’t be that easy.
She silently retrieved a large envelope from a briefcase resting on an empty chair to her left and slightly out of view.
“This.” Maggie handed over the evidence.
Watching nervously she admired his steady hand as he unwound the string that secured the envelope and looked inside.
Leaning back in his chair, Morris felt uneasy as he pulled a stack of what looked like normal white paper from a printer. He gently slid the contents out by its edges to preserve any fingerprints that might exist. As he fanned through the documents, careful not to damage any potential trace evidence, he saw nothing more than instructional letters and financial memos with the now deceased gentleman’s name and signature.
“So? How does this prove a murder occurred?”
“Because those weren’t written or signed by Owen Cassidy.”
Morris looked Maggie straight in the eye. He could always tell if a person were lying by the look in their eyes. It was one of his many skills that made him a good detective.
“How do you know?”
“Owen hired me a few months ago to look over some correspondence that he suspected was forged to gain financial control of his company.”
“These?” Making a mental note that she was on a first
name basis with the deceased, he hoped this wasn’t a setup to contest a will. The deceased man was quite rich after all.
“Yes. Those are just some of the documents.” She nervously took another sip of coffee.
“So, you’re a–” he let the unfinished question hang in the air.
“–a forensic linguist.” She completed his sentence without hesitation. “I normally work on corporate cases and white collar criminal investigations. This is my first experience with,” her pause caught his attention and he studied her body language even more intensely, “–a murder.”
“Okay, let’s assume that what you say is true. It sounds like something the corporate attorneys and accountants need to take care of. Not a homicide detective.”
Returning the documents carefully to their envelope he handed them back across the table.
“Except that Owen would never have committed suicide. He was murdered.”
“How do you know,” he challenged her. That uneasy feeling that coming to this meeting was a bad idea returned, but the detective in him wanted to hear what she had to say.
“Owen Cassidy wasn’t a quitter. He built his company from scratch. He could have quit many times in the past but nothing, and I mean nothing made him quit.”
“Is that all? A gut feeling.”
He watched her expression turn from one of determination to one of frustration. Lowering his gaze, he stared at the envelope for fear the sorrow in her eyes would melt him and he’d do anything she wanted him to do which was a new and unsettling experience for him.
“I gotta tell you Miss Faraday,” he paused and looked up, “it is Miss Faraday, isn’t it?”
“Huh?” She looked stunned.
“Miss, it is Miss?” When she didn’t answer he added, “I want to get the information correct for my report.” It was only partially true.
“So, you’ll look into Owen’s death?”
Her plea and those beautiful green eyes melted him. He couldn’t say no.
“Yes.” He knew there wasn’t much he could do but the relieved look on her face and the sparkle in her eyes made him want to try.
