by Ann Roberts
“Thanks,” he continued. “Were you here today at one o’clock?”
She nodded. “I was. He was at the luncheon so I delayed my lunch hour until he returned.”
“So you saw him return from the luncheon?” Molly asked.
A sly smile crossed her lips. “Yes, I saw him after he arrived back from the luncheon.”
“And you’re sure of the time?” Andre pressed. “You’re certain he was back by one?”
She leaned over the desk and folded her hands. “Detective, I’m quite sure of the time. I was in his office when his cell phone alarm went off. It sounds every day at one to remind him to take his medication.”
“What medication is that?”
She eyed them shrewdly. “I don’t think that’s police business. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
They both shook their heads and headed back down the hallway. Molly glanced at the framed photos that lined the wall, each one depicting the same image—Stan Wertz at the opening of a Hometown Grocery store, preparing to cut a yellow ribbon with an enormous pair of scissors. By the time they reached the elevator she’d lost count at fifteen pictures.
“That’s a lot of stores,” Andre said. “What do you make of him?”
“He’s a cool customer,” she said, punching the button. “He showed no emotion and offered no help. Very hard to read.”
“Do you think Candy’s telling the truth?”
“Do you?”
He glanced back down the hallway at Candy. “I don’t know. If she likes her job then I’ll bet she’d cover for him, but I think she’s telling the truth. Judging from that smile on her face when we asked her where she was at one o’clock, I’d say she was with him in his office. And she wasn’t taking dictation.”
Chapter Two
Maria pushed the swing higher until her feet rose above her head and her toes seemed to touch the puffy clouds. Back and forth she soared like the pendulum Mrs. Stimson had shown the class. She glanced at the empty swing next to her. Where was Selena? Maria frowned. Maybe her mama wouldn’t let her out to play. It was Sunday after all, the Lord’s Day. Fortunately Mama believed the Lord got his share in the morning and if she was expected to do chores, then it was okay to play later. She liked Mama’s logic.
In the distance a man wriggled through a hole in the playground fence. He was still far away, and she was certain he’d cut to the right toward the abandoned school that towered before her. Her brother Franco told her it was called the drugstore and junkies went there all the time. She and her friends could play on the swings and monkey bars, and no one would bother them but he said never ever go inside. She’d kept her promise to him. The old place gave her the creeps.
She missed Franco. He didn’t live at home anymore. Mama said he was muerto because he ran a gang. But he still saw Maria after school sometimes. He told her she was separate from business, and it wasn’t her problem. He loved her no matter what. She still felt bad that Mama didn’t get along with him, and Mama would be mad if she knew that he visited her.
The man was close enough now that she could see he wore a hat, sweatshirt and jeans. He didn’t walk like a junkie, and he was headed toward her. He stared at his feet as if he didn’t notice she was there.
“Time to go,” she whispered.
The first rule was always to run when a stranger approached. She slowed the swing and prepared to jump as soon as her feet scraped the ground.
“Hey, little girl, can you help me?” the man called. He was hurrying toward her, waving cash, a smile on his face. “I’ll pay you.”
She didn’t buy it. Franco had warned her about strangers. None of them are good, hija.
She jumped and landed in the dirt. When she stood, he was standing before her. There was no point in running now since he could easily catch her. Her gaze went to the twenty dollars in his hand. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe Franco was wrong about some strangers.
“What do you need, mister?”
He frowned. “I’m very sorry.”
Her eyes had been focused on the twenty dollar bill. She didn’t notice the barrel of the gun until it was pointed at her.
Chapter Three
The polite ringing of a bell signaled an approaching bicyclist and Ari and Molly veered to the right, allowing him to pass. A couple on a tandem quickly followed behind. The congestion on the cement path was heavy because of the incredible weather, and pedestrians and cyclists jockeyed for a place on the thin thoroughfare that surrounded Tempe Town Lake. While everyone on the eastern seaboard braced for miserable cold fronts that would headline the national news, February in Arizona meant hiking in shorts, driving with the top down and a well-deserved afternoon of relaxation. They’d turned off their cell phones, ensuring that the peaceful Sunday afternoon wouldn’t be destroyed by any of Ari’s needy real estate clients or cops looking for Molly to run a homicide investigation.
Molly nudged Ari’s shoulder with her own. “Hey, where are you?” she asked.
“I’m just amazed by this place,” Ari explained. “When you were growing up did you ever think there would be a lake here?”
Molly laughed and shook her head. Both of them were Arizona natives and had spent years crossing the Tempe Bridge over the dusty remains of the Salt River, a tributary that had once been a vital waterway at the turn of the century. Built on the perimeter of Tempe, Phoenix’s sister city, the lake actually sat in the middle of a riverbed that hadn’t seen water in twenty-five years since the great flood of 1980.
As they meandered down the South Bank Path, Molly marveled at the ingenuity of the city planners. The previous mayor who had spearheaded the project was horribly ridiculed by the town council. They’d argued that desert rats didn’t understand lakes, and they certainly didn’t own boats.
How wrong they were. She glanced at the shimmering blue water and the white sails that floated past. The area around the lake was a developer’s dream. Ari and her boss had sold a few parcels of the land used for the upscale apartment complexes that sat west of the lake. Only a lone office building hugged the pathway, its curved blue glass facing the lake and the nearby freeway. To the east a crane rested inside a giant pit, a billboard plastered on the chain link fence surrounding the pit advertising lakefront condos. It was only a matter of time before the area was overdeveloped and the lake became another hub of activity in Tempe.
They strolled on the gravel path, opting to avoid the growing number of cyclists and rollerbladers who inhabited the elevated sidewalk. They turned around at the boat landing and wandered back to Beach Park. Passing under the arch of the Tempe Bridge was eerie, the wheels of the cars overhead chugging along the old ruts of the bridge’s lanes. The foot path expanded into the grassy areas of the park and Splash Playground. They found a bench and listened to squeals of glee as rambunctious kids clad in shorts and T-shirts darted in and out of the arching water jets, all the while shivering in the mid-sixties temperatures. Children bounded from water cannons to the small slide disguised inside a large rock and then went to play in the sand nearby.
Molly gazed at Ari, who watched the children intently, amused by their antics. Ari certainly seemed to enjoy kids. When they visited her niece and nephew, Ari was the one who never tired of reading stories, playing baseball or having tea with the dollies. She wondered if Ari wanted a child of her own, a thought she personally couldn’t fathom. She’d not mentioned the subject. In fact there were many subjects she’d delicately sidestepped, too petrified to handle emotional intimacy. Physical intimacy was one thing—and with Ari there were no boundaries—but sharing her greatest fears and vulnerabilities was nearly impossible. She kept those buried deep inside a whiskey bottle.
“Hey,” Ari whispered, her index finger tracing the side of Molly’s jaw. “Now you look a million miles away.”
“I’m just thinking about the case,” she lied. “It’s going nowhere. The handwriting analysis was inconclusive, and we haven’t found anyone who saw anything, no
t that it was easy. People don’t usually hang out in parking garages, and it’s been a nightmare trying to connect with all of the business people who work in the towers next door.”
“Did you interview Stan Wertz?”
“Yup. Him and his secretary. She says he was back in the office at one o’clock.”
“And you’re comfortable that she’s telling the truth?”
Molly stroked her cheek. She loved the way that Ari phrased things in such a way that didn’t question her professional judgment. She just asked reflective questions. Their conversations had helped her solve a few cases since they’d been together.
“I’m not sure what to believe. After the interview Andre was convinced she’s having an affair with him, and they were in the middle of doing it at one o’clock. She says his cell alarm went off and she heard it.”
“What about the wife?”
“She’s distraught, but the marriage was unstable. Both of them had talked to a divorce attorney recently.”
“There’s an angle.”
Molly nodded in agreement. Most people were killed by people they knew, not strangers, and spouses and lovers accounted for most of the doers.
“It could be but it’s looking unlikely. We’ve spent the week combing through his business affairs, and she doesn’t have much of a connection. She claims there was another woman and that was her motivation for the divorce.”
“Does she know who it was?”
Molly shook her head. “No. She’s still a suspect, but she’s the one pushing for the investigation. She says that it wasn’t suicide.”
“Why?”
“He had too much to live for. The business was doing well, and she didn’t recognize the flask.”
“Did he ever drink from a flask?”
Molly grinned and nodded. “Sometimes.”
Ari shrugged. “So maybe he bought a new one. Was he upset about the divorce?”
“Very upset which is why I haven’t ruled out suicide. He was incredibly despondent. They have a nine-one-one call to the house about two weeks ago. He was drunk and screaming at her.”
“Anything else in the car or the briefcase?”
“Not really. Just some standard business forms, brochures about his company and the usual stuff you find—mints, Tic Tacs and gum. There was also a key.”
Ari raised an eyebrow. “A key? What kind of key?”
“Like a front door key, but it didn’t fit the Edgington’s front door. It wasn’t on a key chain. A couple of those garbage bag twist-ties, a red and white one, were tied to the end, probably so he wouldn’t lose it.”
“Did you show it to the wife?”
“She’d never seen it. We tried to unlock every door at his home and office with that key and nothing.”
She kicked the ground with her shoe, tired of the subject. “Maybe it was a suicide. The coroner’s report should be back tomorrow. It’ll probably say that he killed himself with booze and pills or somebody planted some poison in that flask. If it’s just booze and pills, I know we’ll be pulled off the case. Ruskin wants this to go away.”
Ari rolled her eyes at the mention of Molly’s boss. “Of course he wants it to go away. He wants to clear every case as fast as possible to keep his precious career on track.”
They both knew David Ruskin had dreams of replacing Police Chief Sol Gardener, Ari’s godfather and her father’s best friend.
Ari stretched out her legs, and Molly gazed at her muscular tanned calves. She basked in the sunlight, her eyes closed. She smiled. She could sink into her deep green eyes and dark, shimmering black hair. Ari was beautiful with incredible olive skin and a lean body. Women and men flirted with her on a daily basis, and while she always politely rebuffed their overt advances and proposals for dinner, Molly could tell she enjoyed the attention—she would often flirt back innocently. Today she’d pulled her tresses into a loose bun, some of which had come undone and shrouded her face, the face of a model. Whether she was going to a fancy party or struggling to get out of bed, she was stunning. Every time Molly paused to stare at her, she couldn’t take a breath.
“I need a mocha latte,” she announced. “Want one?”
Ari nodded, her attention returning to the children’s area, while Molly wandered to the nearby coffee bar. She patiently waited in the long line, watching the two energetic college students expertly grind and whip the caffeinated concoctions. Her gaze drifted back to Ari. She could spend hours looking at her. At night when she was fast asleep, Molly would awaken and study her, letting her lips tenderly kiss the slopes of Ari’s shoulders.
The goofy smile that covered her face quickly faded when a shapely blonde on rollerblades coasted next to Ari and planted herself on the bench.
Heat burned through her as the woman inched closer to Ari, her arm extended across the back of the bench, her fingers millimeters from Ari’s creamy flesh. Ari didn’t seem to notice. Nothing about her mannerisms was suggestive or flirtatious. Yet the woman gushed with emotion, laughing heartily at everything she said, her voice drifting across the courtyard and slapping Molly in the face. The box of jealousy that lived next to her heart exploded, and she took two steps out of line. Suddenly her feet stopped, and she almost fell over herself. Ari wouldn’t approve—she would be appalled and embarrassed if Molly confronted the woman and shoved her into the lake. It would not be a pleasant way to end their romantic afternoon. She needed to let it go.
Molly turned back to the line, estimating that it would be another five minutes before she returned to the bench with their lattes. By then Ari could have left her, moved in with the blonde and adopted one of the children splashing in the fountain. She closed her eyes and refused to watch the woman’s flirtations, determined to let the jealousy ooze away, steeling her fears, reminding herself that Ari’s commitment was unwavering and undeniable. The mantra was one she recited often. It disguised the most distasteful aspect of her personality. At least she hoped her raging jealousy wasn’t obvious to Ari. She’d never said anything about it, and Molly knew she was an expert at hiding emotions. Yet dealing with her hot-bloodedness cost her dearly, always draining her of energy and leaving her craving a drink.
She paid for the lattes and returned to the bench. The blonde was still seated next to Ari, her skating forgotten. Ari was explaining property values in Tempe while the woman feigned extraordinary interest. Molly smiled broadly as the blonde’s face crumbled when she settled next to Ari, handed her the latte and wrapped a possessive arm around her woman. The rollerblader recognized her deep cleavage and short shorts were being wasted on Ari, who obliviously continued to ramble on about mortgage rates. When she unconsciously snuggled up against Molly, the blonde leaned forward, attempting an exit.
“Hey, it’s been nice talking to you,” she said, interrupting her mid-sentence, “but I’ve got to cruise. See you around, Ari.”
And without waiting for a reply the woman skated toward Mill Avenue. Ari wiped the puzzled expression from her face and took a sip of the coffee. “Weird,” was her only comment.
“Who was that?” Molly asked innocently.
“Deandra, or something like that,” she replied absently, her eyes returning to the children.
Molly squeezed her shoulder and they drank their lattes in silence, basking in the mild winter weather, envying the lives of the children who had no cares or worries. Ari laughed as one child turned the water cannon on her older brother, spraying him in the chest, screaming with delight. The older boy yelled at his sister and chased her around the park. When an airplane roared overhead, preparing to land at the airport that sat between Phoenix and Tempe, the children froze and looked up. A few pointed and all were mesmerized.
“What time are you picking up your dad?” Molly asked, the sight of the airplane reminding her of Ari’s afternoon plans.
Ari sighed. “About three. We’ll probably go have a late lunch before I drop him off at Sol’s.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
She offered a withered look and Molly kissed her forehead. “I understand. It’s okay.” But it still hurts.
Ari stared at the elevator and made no effort to press the call button. A screech of tires made her jump, and she glanced toward a car speeding up the spiral ramp to the next level of the parking garage. While they were in a hurry, she moved in slow motion, dreading the next few hours. The elevator suddenly chimed and the doors opened. Passengers hustled out and she boarded, knowing it was a sign.
As the elevator descended an odd sensation overtook her. It was as if a string was pulling her closer to the past and this reunion with her father. She checked her watch, thinking he’d probably deplaned by now and was waiting by security, the place where they’d agreed to meet.
It was one of many agreements. She would pick him up, and they would have a late lunch but there was nothing else planned for Sunday. He wouldn’t stay with her but at Sol’s. If the lunch went well, they might go to dinner, but they had to agree. Eventually he might meet Molly. She hadn’t said anything to him about having a girlfriend. She knew, though, that their paths would inevitably cross at the police station.
She headed for the security area, but he wasn’t there. She moved underneath the TV monitors and saw that his plane had arrived half an hour early. She stationed herself against a wall so she would see him when he passed the checkpoint. Maybe he was in one of the gift stores along the D concourse.
