Cavanaugh Strong

by Marie Ferrarella

  It had been a long time since she had seen her grandmother that happy, so Noelle couldn’t bring herself to beg off and go to bed even on Sunday night. Not until Lucy finally ran out of steam.

  By then it was a little after midnight.

  But even so, sleep turned out to be a reluctant guest in her bedroom and when it finally did make an appearance, it brought a cache of unsettling dreams along with it. Dreams that Noelle staunchly refused to analyze or even review once she was awake.

  Dreams about things she had absolutely no business even thinking, she’d silently upbraided herself.

  But even this rather acute absence of sleep wasn’t what was responsible for making her arrive late to the precinct this Monday morning.

  The blame belonged exclusively to the accident. The one that had a weathered Escalade melding with a utility pole on the side of the road. It wasn’t even that the wreck impeded her travels. The car, or what was left of it, was out of the way of general traffic. It was what she saw that ultimately caused her to be late. And the unnerving fact that this accident was occurring not that far away from the seniors’ home where Henry had died—or been “helped” to die.

  Driving carefully by, she kept as far to the left as she could to avoid getting in the way of the first responders on the scene of the accident. Force of habit had Noelle looking in the direction of the wrecked car. As she looked, she was fervently hoping that there were no casualties.

  But there were. The arrival of the coroner’s vehicle testified to that. One casualty, the lone occupant of the van. The driver.

  Just as she was about to drive past the scene, Noelle saw the gurney with its depressing black body bag being lowered off the back of the coroner’s van.

  That was when she saw the victim who had been lifted out from behind the wheel of his crumpled Escalade and placed on the ground.

  It was a man who had seen at least seven decades pass by.

  She wasn’t sure exactly what possessed her to pull over. There was nothing she could do to help; she was aware of that from the start. Heaven knew there were enough fire and police personnel about to more than handle the situation twice over.

  But the age of the victim had red flags going up in her head. There were questions she needed to have answered.

  Parking her vehicle on the same side as the victim’s smashed SUV and the coroner’s black van, Noelle got out and crossed over to where the body was lying on the ground, still uncovered.

  “Lady, you can’t stop here,” a uniformed policeman informed her authoritatively, shifting over so that he placed himself directly between her and the dead driver.

  Noelle held up her shield and ID for the policeman to check out.

  “It’s okay. I’m on the job.” She never took her eyes off the exceptionally bloodied man on the ground. “What happened?” she asked.

  In the presence of a detective, the policeman became infinitely friendlier and relaxed. His entire countenance changed.

  “As near as I can figure it, I think the guy had a heart attack. I don’t know if that was before or after he lost control of the car. Probably before,” he guessed, and then the man’s expression became rather wry. “But it all depends on which ‘eyewitness’ you talk to.” He jerked a thumb at the two people, a man and a woman, whose statements were presently being taken by another policeman. “They’re married and they can’t seem to agree on anything.”

  Turning back to look at Noelle, the policeman asked, “You know him, Detective?” indicating the dead man.

  Noelle shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

  He looked at her. “Then why...?”

  She anticipated the rest of his question. She couldn’t say anything about a gut feeling, or Lucy’s two dead friends. That was a conversation that was a couple of levels above the man’s pay grade, so she said the only thing she could, given the situation. “I just stopped to see if you needed any help.”

  He seemed duly impressed by the offer, even as he turned it down. “Thanks, but we’ve got it under control, Detective.”

  She nodded, scarcely hearing him. She was watching the coroner’s team place the body into the black body bag and zip it up. She could almost hear the words the end being whispered by the black vinyl.

  Maybe she was just losing her mind.

  Turning toward the coroner, Noelle took out one of her cards and held it out to the man. “Could you let me know what your findings turn out to be when you do your autopsy?”

  The coroner perused the business card and then regarded her. The frown he wore like a badge deepened. “You think there’s something wrong, Detective?”

  “Other than the man being dead? I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “But the autopsy should help me find that out.”

  With that, Noelle withdrew and walked back to her car.

  There was no reason for her to think that what she’d just come across was anything but an unfortunate accident. One that could have been so much worse under different circumstances. It was all probably just a simple matter: The man was driving and had a heart attack, most likely the result of years of poor eating habits, insufficient exercise and far too few medical exams that could have put him ahead of the problem.

  But even going over those plausible explanations didn’t placate her. The whole incident made her uneasy.

  * * *

  It was still bothering her half an hour later when she finally arrived at work.

  Glancing at her watch as she got out of her car in the parking lot, she realized that she was five minutes late. Not exactly earth-shattering, but still not something she wanted anyone to take note of.

  Noelle hurried up the back steps, fairly flew into the building and then, rather than waiting for the elevator, she decided to take the stairs to the third floor. It was faster.

  Just a tad out of breath because of her pace, Noelle strode down the hall and into the squad room.

  Cavanaugh, she noticed, was already at his desk.

  The minute she crossed the threshold, he looked in her direction. It was as if he was waiting for her to materialize.

  Why?

  Was he going to say something about Saturday? Make a comment about her apparent reaction to what could only be cataloged as the most innocent of kisses?

  To her surprise, it turned out to have nothing to do with any of that.

  The moment she slid into her chair and murmured “Good morning,” Duncan responded by asking her, “Why’d you ask the coroner to send you a copy of that traffic victim’s autopsy?”

  Dumbfounded, Noelle was rendered almost speechless. It took her a couple of seconds to pull her wits together in order to make some sort of a response that didn’t involve babbling or the repetition of disjointed words.

  She stared at her partner. How could he possibly know that? “What, do you have me wired?”

  Duncan shook his head. “Don’t have to. You should know by now that there are practically no secrets in the police department.”

  She sighed, still rather mystified. She knew that some news traveled fast, but this had to be some kind of a record.

  “Apparently.”

  “The coroner called Jamieson to find out what his interest was in the dead man just off the 5 Freeway. Jamieson played it by ear and backed you up—he’s got all our backs,” Duncan readily told her. “But I’ve got a hunch that he’s going to have a few questions for you—”

  “O’Banyon,” Jamieson called out. When she turned to look toward the lieutenant, she saw that he was standing in his doorway, beckoning to her. “A word.”

  “—right about now,” Duncan concluded, getting up.

  From what she could tell, Cavanaugh was about to follow her. But the lieutenant had only asked her to come to his office.

  “Where are you going?”
she asked Duncan as she started to head toward the lieutenant’s office.

  “With you,” he answered. When she looked at him, confused, he said, “Hey, in case this hasn’t sunken in yet after all this time, we’re a team. That means that anything that concerns you, concerns me—and vice versa. Understand?”

  Oh, she understood all right, but did he? This could mean trouble. “Even if it arouses Jamieson’s displeasure?”

  “Even then,” he confirmed with no hesitation. “You really don’t understand how this works, do you?” he asked her.

  “I’m learning,” she said solemnly. It went without saying that she was also grateful for the moral support.

  Jamieson had withdrawn into his office and was sitting behind his desk, waiting. Noelle stopped just short of the threshold to brace herself, then walked into the lieutenant’s office.

  Jamieson glanced at Noelle’s six-foot-one shadow.

  “You decided to bring your bodyguard along?” the lieutenant deadpanned.

  “Strictly my idea, Lieu,” Duncan said as he took a seat. He watched as his partner slowly lowered herself into the remaining one. “This way, you won’t have to repeat yourself later, or need to say anything twice. Saves time,” Duncan told his superior cheerfully.

  “You were always the thoughtful one,” Jamieson said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. His attention shifted back to the detective he’d actually called into his office. “What’s the matter, O’Banyon? You don’t find your work challenging enough? Or maybe you don’t like it here?”

  “I like being here just fine, sir,” Noelle replied in a clip voice more suited to an enlisted man addressing their sergeant than a police detective speaking to her superior.

  “Then why are you asking the coroner to forward his autopsy findings on some poor guy who bought the farm while driving his overpriced car?” the lieutenant asked.

  Noelle wet her lips as she slanted a glance at Duncan.

  The woman, Duncan thought, had absolutely no idea how appealing she looked just now.

  “A hunch, sir,” Noelle answered the lieutenant’s question. “I had a hunch.”

  “About?” There was no indication on Jamieson’s face what he thought of her response.

  Noelle took another breath, hoping her answer wasn’t going to anger Jamieson. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but—this is the third old person who’s died recently.”

  Jamieson’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. “You knew him?”

  “No, sir,” she admitted.

  The furrows became deeper. “Then why—”

  “It’s complicated, sir,” she said, trying to head off his question.

  “Apparently. Try to uncomplicate it for me,” the lieutenant urged.

  Noelle explained her action the only way she knew how, by starting at the beginning. “My grandmother had two old friends who died recently. Both were in good physical condition.”

  “Until they died,” Jamieson concluded with a touch of irony.

  Duncan decided that his partner might need a lifeline right about now. “I think what O’Banyon’s forgetting to mention is that both people recently took out life insurance policies.”

  The lieutenant’s attention shifted to his senior detective. “And you think they were killed for the payout?”

  It was Noelle who answered the question, just as Duncan had hoped she would. “I don’t know, sir. I do know that they didn’t have any next of kin to leave the money to.”

  It was obvious that the lieutenant was trying to tie the pieces together to make sense of what was being said.

  “And when you saw this accident this morning—”

  “It just seemed like too much of a coincidence,” she told him. “And I don’t believe in coincidences. I felt that I should look into the matter, get as much information as I could.”

  “Don’t you have department paperwork to catch up on?” Jamieson reminded her pointedly.

  She knew he was telling her to get her priorities straight and she wanted to assure him that she already had. “I’m doing it, sir. This is just something I’m looking into on the side.”

  The expression on Jamieson’s face conveyed deep doubts.

  “There’s more at play here than just simple homicide, Lieu.” Duncan threw his weight behind his partner’s budding theory.

  Jamieson shifted his chair so that he was facing Duncan. “Go ahead.”

  Duncan began to make it up as he went along. “We could look at it from the point of view that this is someone’s idea of a deadly scam. Talking senior citizens into signing up for insurance policies, maybe offering them some kind of incentive to do it, then getting them to sign over the final death benefits on their policies to some organization or foundation that was advantageous to these people.”

  He could see that he had gotten the lieutenant’s wheels spinning. Duncan built on that. “If nothing else, we could look into it as being some kind of insurance fraud or a scam.”

  “Or something more fatal than that,” Noelle interjected. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the way Lucy had looked, standing over Henry’s casket. She wanted to really probe into the matter. She owed it not just to those dead people, but to Lucy, as well.

  “Well, if the investigation turns up evidence that points to these people deliberately being targeted and marked for termination, then we’ll turn what we found over to Homicide,” Jamieson informed her.

  She understood that, understood boundaries. She wasn’t in this for points or some sense of competition. She just wanted the matter exposed and stopped if murder was the endgame.

  “And until then?” Noelle prodded.

  “Until then, as long as you get that pile of paperwork on your desk done on time, you’re free to investigate your little heart out,” Jamieson told her. What he said next had her mouth all but dropping open. “You can take the lead on this.”

  About to rise to her feet to take her leave, she froze over what Jamieson had said. Gripping the chair’s armrests, her fingers drew slack and she sank back down into the seat. Her knees had turned into rubber bands.

  Noelle stared at the lieutenant, hardly able to blink. “Lead?” she echoed, stunned.

  “Unless you don’t feel qualified,” he replied, watching her reaction.

  Lead.

  She had never taken lead on a case before. That had always been Duncan’s position when it was just the two of them investigating a case. The few times they’d been part of a larger group effort involving a case, lead had belonged to whoever had requested additional help with the investigation.

  The thought of being the one in charge of an investigation thrilled and humbled Noelle at the same time.

  “No, sir,” she told Jamieson quickly. “I mean, yes, sir.” This was definitely not coming out right, she thought. “I mean, I feel very qualified to take the lead on this.”

  “Well, see that you are,” Jamieson instructed gruffly, then tacked on a warning. “And that your ego doesn’t wind up getting in the way.”

  Wow. Lead. “No, sir. No ego,” she promised, all but crossing her heart.

  “You can go now,” Jamieson said, waving her out of the office.

  As both detectives began to leave the room, Jamieson had one final thing to say—but not to both of them. “Cavanaugh.” Duncan paused just inside the office to look at the lieutenant, waiting for him to say what he had to say. “Keep an eye on her,” Jamieson ordered him.

  “Always, sir,” Duncan responded.

  Jamieson knew the strengths and weaknesses of all the people under him. “A professional eye,” Jamieson underscored.

  Duncan merely grinned in response. “Sure thing, Lieu.” He saw the lieutenant roll his eyes and had the good sense to pretend that he didn’t. Instea
d, Duncan quickly made his way out of the man’s office.

  “So how does it feel, being the lead on a case for the first time?” Duncan asked his partner once they had gotten back to their respective desks and sat down.

  She still felt as if her feet weren’t quite touching the ground yet. The import of what had just happened in Jamieson’s office was going to take a while to hit and sink in.

  The first word that came to her in response to Cavanaugh’s question was an honest one. “Scary. It feels scary,” she admitted.

  “Good,” Duncan replied with an approving nod of his head.

  She didn’t think that she followed that or got his meaning. Was he gloating at her jitters? She didn’t think so. From what she knew about him, he really wasn’t that type. So what was he saying to her?

  “Why?”

  “Because if it’s scary,” he explained patiently, wanting to guide her, but not push, “then it hasn’t gone to your head and it means that you want to do a good job. Wanting something is halfway to getting it,” he told Noelle.

  That sounded like something out of a fortune cookie. But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t a sound piece of advice. She only hoped that Cavanaugh was right this time.

  “So,” he was saying. “What’s our first move?”

  Good question, she thought. Now all she needed was a good answer.

  Chapter 9

  She was a good detective, Noelle told herself. Granted she didn’t have years of experience to draw on, but she felt that she did have good instincts and a feel for this kind of work.

  So why was she even hesitating about diving into this new venture and being lead on a case she had brought to the lieutenant’s attention?

  What was the worst thing that could happen if she assumed the reins? She could make a mistake?

  Hell, everyone made mistakes, she upbraided herself. The trick was not to let that paralyze you, to learn from it and move on, right?