Annie Seymour 01-Sacred Cows

by Karen E. Olson

  I dialed the number at Vinny’s office, ignoring Mrs. DeLucia’s raised eyebrows.

  The cops answered.

  “This is Anne Seymour. I’ve discovered that Mr. DeLucia had a meeting at Edgerton Park this morning.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “Listen, he might still be there. At the park. You might want to send someone over there.” Here I was, telling them what to do again.

  “Yeah, right, thanks.” A dial tone. I was getting hung up on a lot and it was pissing me off.

  “I’m going over there,” I told Mrs. DeLucia.

  “Where?”

  “The park. To see if he’s there.” I followed her out of the apartment and back down to the street. Then the lightbulb went off in my head. I turned to Mrs. DeLucia. “Could he be with his fiancée?”

  She smiled, a smile that said, I know why you’re asking, and it’s not just that you’re worried about him. Okay, so maybe she was right. But I didn’t want to think about it at the moment. “No. Rosie is in California on business for a few days.”

  At least I was covering all my bases. The park was next on my list.

  My gut told me I wouldn’t find him. And he wasn’t there. But one of those cows was. It had daisies painted all over it and its plaque informed me that it was “Please Don’t Eat the Daisies,” designed by an artist named Zak. I shrugged off an urge to kick it, as if it and the rest of the herd were responsible for everything that was happening to me.

  Without any new ideas, I found myself parking in front of Vinny’s office building again. Where there had been two cop cars earlier, now there were none. I went back into the building. Vinny’s office was roped off with yellow crime scene tape, and I went down the hall, to Cobb Doyle’s office.

  He was hunched over his computer.

  “That was quick,” I said.

  He must have jumped five feet into the air. I chuckled, because it looked pretty funny. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  He struggled to compose himself. “What was quick?” he finally asked.

  “The cops. They’re gone already.”

  “They got a call and left.”

  “Concerning Vinny?”

  Cobb frowned. “What’s your interest in all this? Vinny’s got a fiancée, you know.”

  I nodded. “I know.” Of course he didn’t have to know I just found out. “We were working on something together. It’s pretty important.”

  Cobb got up and went over to his file cabinet. He rummaged around for a few minutes, then handed me a big yellow envelope with “Annie” written on the front.

  “What’s this?”

  “Vinny gave it to me last night, before I left. He asked me to hold on to it. When you told me your name, I remembered it, but I didn’t get a chance to ask you earlier. Does it have anything to do with what happened to his office?”

  So Cobb Doyle did have a secret file in his office after all.

  I opened the envelope and saw the copies of the affidavits Vinny had mentioned and more than a handful of tiny cassette tapes. Underneath were copies of checks, all made out to McGee Corporation. I recognized my mother’s handwriting, and saw Bill Bennett’s name on some. There were also checks from some of the biggest movers and shakers in the city. They weren’t your average checks for $200 or $300, either. The zeros just kept going on and on and on. At the back of the folder were what looked like three or four bank statements. I gasped. “Holy shit.”

  “I admit I looked,” Cobb said sheepishly. “What does it mean?”

  “It means that if we ever find Mark Torrey, he’s going to have most of the city wanting a pound of flesh.” But this was only half the story. Would these statements lead us to the money, and, ultimately, Mark Torrey, or was it just some sort of smoke screen? And what was on those tapes?

  Having the checks proved only that Torrey had gotten the money, which was common knowledge anyway. Torrey could turn around and say he invested it, which is what he was supposed to do. Rummaging a little further, I saw what looked like investment statements. Were they for real? And what had Melissa Peabody found out? Did she know about Torrey and that’s why she was found on the pavement? And what about Allison Sanders? What did she know that got her killed? All the other victims were rich and still alive. If their deaths were tied to this, Melissa and Allison had paid the highest price for Mark Torrey’s greed.

  I needed to get this envelope to a safer place. “If Vinny shows up, tell him I’ve got this,” I told Cobb. “Thanks for holding on to it.” I felt like I was praising a puppy for peeing outside instead of on the carpet.

  I hoped Vinny was safe somewhere and hadn’t suffered the same fate as Melissa and Allison.

  I left before Cobb could argue with me. I stuffed the envelope into my bag so no one would see me leaving with anything, just in case the place was being watched. I didn’t think I was being followed as I pulled into the bank parking lot. I’d rented a safe deposit box here for the past few years. When I slid the envelope into the box, I took a deep breath. The pieces were falling into place, but I’d lost a key player. Where the hell was Vinny?

  CHAPTER 17

  Dick Whitfield’s butt was in my chair, he was talking into my phone. I cleared my throat loudly, and his eyes moved up to my face. It pleased me to see the fear run across them as he quickly said, “I’ll call you back, okay?”

  “Get out of my chair,” I growled. “I’m sick and tired of finding you at my desk every time I come in.” He jumped up like a damned kangaroo.

  “You’re never here,” he tried feebly.

  “Shut up. I’m not in the mood.” I sat down and started leafing through my Rolodex.

  “What’re you working on?” he asked. He was like a fucking tree. His feet were planted firmly next to me and they hadn’t moved.

  “None of your business.” I wasn’t sure just what I was looking for among my phone numbers, I just wanted to look like I knew what I was doing so everyone would leave me alone.

  “The cow doctor called.”

  “What?”

  “I answered your phone and he said he could meet you later, about four at the cow hospital.”

  “Are you my secretary now?”

  “Aren’t you going to the press conference?”

  It was the first I was hearing about a press conference, but I wasn’t going to let him in on that. “Not sure.”

  But Dickie Boy was on to me. “Melissa Peabody’s parents. They’re holding a press conference at four.”

  Oh, Christ. It had to be that lawsuit. I got up, and lo and behold the tree sprouted legs. “Where are you going?” I asked.

  He shrugged and stopped. I kept going, over to Marty’s desk. He saw me coming and shook his head, a loud sigh emanating from his throat. “No. You can’t go.”

  “You don’t know what I’m going to ask about.”

  “The press conference. Dick’s going. The cow doctor is priority one with you today.”

  “It’s my beat. It has nothing to do with Mark Torrey, it’s her parents, for Christ’s sake. Can’t I do my job?”

  “There’s a fine line here, Annie. And I’m not going to cross it. You’re taking a break from the cop beat. It’s from upstairs.”

  “Oh, great. That way you’re completely exonerated from any guilt you might feel about taking me off this story.”

  Marty smiled and took off his glasses. He twirled them in his left hand as he scratched his chin. “You know, you haven’t taken a vacation in six months. Maybe it’s time. Let things cool down for a week or so, then come back and we can start over. You won’t lose your beat, I promise. But we need to give the illusion that you’re repentant.”

  “For what?” I tried not to raise my voice, but two of the suburban editors looked up.

  “For insubordination.”

  “Is that what he told you?”

  “Annie, I know you. I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose, but you have a tendency to say what you’re thinking, and most
people can’t handle that. Especially the suits. You used to know that and stay out of their way.”

  “But he’s dating my mother,” I whispered so no one else would hear.

  The corners of Marty’s mouth twitched and his eyebrows reached into his forehead. “Really?”

  I scowled at him, and after a few seconds he realized I wasn’t going to get into it.

  “Listen, Annie, take a vacation. A few days off. Do this story about the cow hospital and then take the rest of the week off. Go to Florida, go to Vegas and see your father. Get some sun and warm weather. When you come back, we’ll see.”

  It didn’t sound like a request.

  “I don’t want to go to Florida. It’s hurricane season.”

  “Then you’ll feel right at home.” He went back to whatever it was he was doing and I stood there, mute, for a minute or two before returning to my desk.

  “What’s going on?” Dick didn’t have the sense to keep his mouth closed when he should.

  “Shut up,” I said, picking up my bag.

  “I just don’t get it,” he started, and I walked around him toward the door. “What’s going on?” I heard again from behind me.

  I turned my head but kept walking. “Shut up,” I repeated.

  I found myself at Atticus with a cup of coffee and a scone. Usually I like to read something when I’m eating alone, but I didn’t have anything and I didn’t feel like browsing the shelves behind me. I sipped in silence, spread a little butter on the scone and waited for it to settle on my hips. I hadn’t seen Tom too much lately, so no one would notice but me. I thought again about Vinny and wondered where he could’ve disappeared to. I should’ve been looking for him instead of sitting here doing nothing, but I couldn’t move. I ate more of my scone.

  I heard someone laughing, and I looked up to see Sarah across the room. She was holding a to-go cup with one hand, the other was touching the face of a guy with a mole on his chin. I sat up straight. It had to be the guy who left me the note, David Best’s roommate, what the hell was his name? I scrambled in my bag for a few dollars, all the while watching them move out onto the sidewalk, taking a right down Chapel Street. I hurried out and spotted them crossing Chapel and walking up Temple. I jaywalked across Chapel and scurried toward them, but I’d lost sight of them, since they were now around the corner.

  Just as I turned onto Temple, I saw them up ahead, getting into a white Toyota. It looked like the car I’d seen outside the Peabody when I was waiting for Hickey. The sun reflected off the glass and I couldn’t make out who was driving, but both Sarah and the mole guy got into the back. When the car sped past me, I noted two guys in the front, the mole guy’s arm around Sarah. I wondered if this was a new romance, or something that had been going on for a while.

  Thinking of romance made me think of Tom. I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and dialed the familiar number.

  “Hi, stranger,” I said when he answered.

  “You shouldn’t use this number.” His voice was cold.

  “I just saw David Best’s roommate with Melissa Peabody’s roommate. They’re involved with each other.”

  “So?”

  I bit my tongue to keep back a smart retort. All my relationships seemed to be deteriorating, and I was the last to know.

  “Did you ever talk to him, David’s roommate, I mean? About the note?”

  “No.”

  He was not forthcoming with any more information, so I took the bull by the horns, or, more appropriately, the cow by the horns, since I was staring at a fiberglass cow covered in moss on the Green across from me.

  “What’s up? I mean, I haven’t heard from you, and don’t say you’ve been too busy. You’ve never been that busy before.”

  He sighed. “I understand you’re somehow involved with Vinny DeLucia’s office break-in.”

  I started walking back toward Chapel, back to my car. “Somehow involved with his break-in? I was there, I discovered it; he’s missing, do you know that?”

  “I’m surprised you don’t know where he is.”

  He was jealous. If I wasn’t so pissed at him for his attitude, I might have found this enjoyable. “He’s got a girlfriend,” I blurted out. “They’re getting married in May. But that’s beside the point. He is missing, and I’m worried Mark Torrey might have gotten to him. He had something that incriminates Torrey.”

  “What?”

  “That’s not for me to say, but he was going to talk to me this morning about it, which is when I went to his office to talk to him and he wasn’t there but the place was trashed.” The stream-of-consciousness just moved out of my mouth like the runs.

  “We’re working on it,” Tom said quietly, almost too quietly. The road noise was swallowing mostly everything he was saying.

  “Listen, Tom.” I felt I had to somehow try to make things right. “I’ve got to go see this cow doctor at four, but why don’t we have dinner tonight? I have to take the rest of the week off, maybe I could start my little vacation with a little R&R.” I tried to make my voice light, but too many things were weighing on me and I wasn’t sure it was coming out right.

  “The cow doctor?” Of course he picked up on that one.

  “Yeah. A feature thing. Anyway, what do you say?”

  “I’ll come by at seven, okay? We need to talk anyway.”

  As I ended the call and climbed into my car, the weighed-down feeling got worse. “Needing to talk” was a bad sign. Maybe the pressure of our relationship had finally gotten to him. Maybe he was really worried about what was going on with me and Vinny. But I wasn’t sure what was going on with me and Vinny, especially now that I knew he was engaged. This was probably the worst day I’d ever had.

  So I went for ice cream.

  There is something soothing about a banana split: three scoops, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, with hot fudge, caramel, and strawberry sauce, topped with a huge wad of whipped cream, walnuts, and a cherry. I can’t eat a banana split anywhere but Friendly’s. I know exactly how they make them since I spent three summers during college making them myself. The East Haven Friendly’s was renovated in an attempt to compete against the Chili’s that moved in across the way. I fear Chili’s will force Friendly’s out, so I try to get there as much as possible.

  I was slurping some ice cream when I spotted him in a booth across from me. He smiled at me sheepishly, as if I’d caught him doing something other than having a cup of coffee by himself. I raised my eyebrows and swallowed.

  He slid into my booth.

  “Hey, Hickey,” I said, scooping up some whipped cream. “What’s up?”

  His belly hit the table as he leaned in toward me. Instinctively, I sat back. He smelled pretty bad.

  “I can’t go home,” he said in a hushed voice. “He’s after me.”

  “Torrey?” I guessed.

  He nodded. “The business is shut down, I can’t get at my bank accounts. I tried to cover my ass but the feds managed to find them and freeze them. I’ve been living with friends, but friends aren’t there when the finances run out.”

  Then they’re not friends. I kept my mouth full so I couldn’t say it. No use kicking him when he’s down.

  “Tell me how he did it,” I urged once I got to the silver dish and there was nothing left. “Tell me why he killed her.”

  Hickey frowned.

  “Come on,” I prodded. “I know you know he did it. What did she have on him?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that. I don’t know if he killed her. She was asking a lot of questions, but she was a kid, she didn’t really know anything.”

  It wasn’t the answer I wanted.

  “I was supposed to leave town this morning,” Hickey said, inconsiderately concentrating on himself and ignoring my need to get the goods on Torrey. “But the guy who was helping me, well, he never showed. Maybe you could get him a message.”

  I don’t like playing errand boy for anyone. That’s Dick’s job. But I shrugged, a lit
tle curious. “Where were you supposed to go?”

  “He said he had a ticket to Vegas for me. I could disappear there, get a car, maybe go to L.A. He was going to let me know when I could come back.”

  “Who?”

  “A private dick. Vinny DeLucia.”

  I sat up straight, my brain racing. “Vinny? He was going to help you?”

  “I got him some information he needed, so he said he’d help me.”

  The envelope. It was falling into place. But I still didn’t know where Vinny was, and obviously Hickey didn’t have a clue either. “I know Vinny,” I volunteered. “I’ve been looking for him myself, and I don’t know where he is. Someone broke into his office and left it a mess.”

  The fear ran across Hickey’s face, and I knew what he was thinking.

  “I’ve got the stuff,” I said quietly.

  He stared at me.

  “Vinny wanted me to have it. I’m working with him on this.” So it was half a lie, at least it wasn’t a whole one. “It’s safe.” I stared at him. “What do you know about it?”

  Hickey shrugged.

  “It’s Torrey’s accounts, isn’t it?” His silence answered my question. “But you don’t have any idea where Vinny might be?”

  Hickey slumped back into the seat, visibly relieved. “Shit, no, but they’ll be after me and I still have to find someplace to hide.”

  I couldn’t have stopped it from coming out of my mouth, even if I’d known I was going to say it. “You could hide out at my place.”

  Hickey shook his head, and the relief spread through me. “No, Torrey knows about you. He’s probably got someone watching you.”

  It made me catch my breath. Torrey had my home phone number, who knew what else he knew about me. I tried to push it out of my head. “A motel or something?”

  Hickey shrugged.

  I sighed. “You know, when Vinny comes back, he’ll want to talk to you and you should be around here somewhere.”

  “Yeah, I guess I could shack up somewhere. Branford Motel’s not a bad place.”

  I had my doubts about that but didn’t voice them. “Do you have any money?”