by Terry Odell
“So.” Gordon stood and topped off his coffee. “Which do you think is more reasonable? That Orrin Wardell lied about where he came from, or the vehicle records aren’t up to date?”
Solomon chuckled. “You know me, Chief. I’m up for the puzzle. I’d go with Wardell lying.”
“Which brings us to why,” Gordon said.
Solomon looked through the file. “Doesn’t the detective handbook say Find the woman? Of course, they say it in French, which is much classier-sounding, but it boils down to the same thing.” He extracted Roni Wardell’s photo and tapped it with a forefinger. “Here’s a woman. Who is she?”
“According to Wardell, his wife. Roni.”
“You say that with a touch of cop skepticism,” Solomon said.
Gordon shoved his mug aside. Decaf or not, he’d reached his limit. “Until now, I’d have laid odds—around 80-20—that he was who he said he was. A distraught husband, frantic to find his wife. Until Kennedy questioned him, I’d have put the odds at 95-5. His answers seemed pat, but he’d already given his story several times, so I accepted his words at face value.”
“But this.” Solomon tapped the registration printout, his eyes glistening. “This changes things. If he’s lying about one thing, then the rest of his testimony is fishy.”
Gordon noted Solomon’s use of the word testimony, which told him Solomon was already looking at Wardell as a suspect. Of course, with Solomon’s penchant for thinking everything was crime-related, this didn’t surprise Gordon.
“It also puts him back onto my list for my memory card thief,” Gordon said.
“Huh?” Solomon’s brow furrowed.
Gordon explained his lost, then found—sans memory card—cell phone.
“So you think this guy took it?” Solomon asked.
“He and Nick Metcalf, the guy who said he found the phone, had the most opportunity. And possible motives. Either way, I think this gives us justification to investigate. I’ve set up a case file in the system, so we should be able to poke around in databases without sending up red flags.”
“I like your use of we,” Solomon said.
“I figured this would be right up your alley.” Gordon leaned forward, capturing Solomon’s gaze. “Of course, you’re still acting Chief of Police until Monday, so don’t get carried away with this little puzzle.”
“Understood. But I can start some searches, enter things into ViCAP without it impacting my other duties.” Solomon got up to leave.
“I figured. And, by the way, I’ve looked at your reports. Very good.”
Solomon straightened to attention. “Thank you, sir.”
After Solomon left, Gordon thought he’d take one more trip through the public search engines looking for Orrin Wardell. His search was interrupted when his private line rang. Angie. Shit. He checked the time. Ten minutes before change of shift. He was tempted to let it roll into voice mail. Let her think he’d already left. But he picked up.
“Hey, angel. You caught me heading out the door.”
“I’ll pretend I believe that,” she said. “Dinner service is prepped, so I’m free for a bit. I have something for you at my place.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Something for him? An early Valentine’s Day gift? He knew she’d be tied up with Megan’s events on the day itself. Gordon dug in the drawer for the box he’d stashed there before he left on vacation. He stared at the small package, wrapped in shiny red paper, topped with a silver bow. Would Angie think it was a ring? Would she be disappointed when it wasn’t? Were lapis earrings an appropriate gift for Valentine’s Day? He hoped so. Angie still wore the lapis pendant he’d given her. She never took it off.
He blew out a shaky breath. As far as he could tell, Angie had never so much as hinted at a long-term, happily-ever-after, white picket fence relationship. She knew he and Cynthia hadn’t had that, and was stepping carefully. He and Angie had been taking it slow, and he’d bought the earrings when he was still concerned with his vision. If he was going to lose it, he hadn’t wanted her to feel any obligation, any pity. Nothing that would tie her to him permanently out of guilt. Then again, he never claimed to have a handle on reading women. Not on a personal level, anyway.
Enough musing. He shut everything down in his office, locked up, and got out of the parking lot before the third shift began rolling in.
~~~
Angie opened her apartment door before Gordon had a chance to knock. The first thing that hit him was the aroma. Not cooking, though. Not even cinnamon. He saw half a dozen candles, which he assumed were the source of the smell, flickering on the coffee table. Not flowery, not spicy. Nothing he could attach a name to. Other than the candles, there were no lights in the room.
“Smells nice,” he said, and hoped there wasn’t going to be a quiz.
“I thought so. Megan and I have been sampling different scents. Subtle, but they lend an atmosphere to events. These are mountain spring.”
“A little early, wouldn’t you say? Spring up here is months away.”
She laughed. “We’re not going for realism, just a mood. I’d say they smell fresh.”
“Fresh it is, then. What did you want to show me? Or is it the candles?” His hand rested on the box in his jacket pocket.
“No, there’s more,” Angie said. “Some things I’ve been working on for the party business. I need a guinea pig. In the kitchen.”
Gordon shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on Angie’s coat rack. He trailed Angie to her tiny but efficient kitchen and sat at the counter. “I’m game. Feed me.”
She giggled—damn, he loved it when she did that—and went to the fridge. “Try to stop being all manly-macho and have an open mind. We’ve booked a lot of ‘ladies who lunch’ events, and we thought we’d try some less-predictable offerings than chicken Caesar salad, or boring pasta salads.”
She placed two small bowls in front of him. “What do you think?”
“What am I eating?” he asked, choosing one dish and poking through what looked like tiny, glistening white discs. He recognized tomatoes and cucumbers, red and green onions, but wasn’t sure what the rest was.
“Taste it,” she said. “Giving it a name shouldn’t matter.”
He took a tentative sample. Lemony. Herby. And then a follow-up kick of something spicy. “Okay, this is good. Now will you tell me what it is?”
“It’s a quinoa salad. With basil and jalapeño.”
That explained the kick. He listened as she explained what quinoa was, how she wished she could expand the menu at Daily Bread, and all sorts of other recipes she was eager to try. He knew enough to nod and agree at appropriate moments.
He sampled the second offering, which Angie explained was couscous. “It is a pasta salad, but not your everyday macaroni. This one’s got pine nuts and currants.”
“I got the pine nuts, but I thought the other things were raisins,” Gordon said. “And it’s good, too.”
“We could add a protein to any of these depending on what the client wants. Or change the spices, or different dried fruits—lots of possibilities.”
“I’m sure they’ll love it no matter what you do.” He forked up the last bites of his samples. “So, candles and food-tasting. Anything else you need of me?” He thought of the box in his jacket pocket again, wondering if this was the right time to give it to her.
She gave a suggestive grin. “Stay put. I want to give you your Valentine.” She swirled and disappeared into the bedroom.
Was he supposed to follow? Visions of a negligee-clad Angie on a bed covered with rose petals danced through his head. Seconds later, she emerged, still wearing her jeans and Daily Bread polo, carrying a flat box wrapped in red and white polka-dot paper. She grinned, her eyes sparkling as she proffered it. “Happy early Valentine’s Day.”
He reached for it, enjoying the anticipation in Angie’s expression. “I’ve got something for you, too.”
From downstairs the shrill whoop whoop of a s
moke alarm pierced the air.
Chapter 33
The box dropped to the floor between them. Panic filled Angie’s face. She darted for her front door, the one that led straight down to Daily Bread.
“Wait,” Gordon said. “It’s safer if you go out the back.” When Angie didn’t stop, Gordon grabbed her arm. “Angie. No. It’s probably a false alarm, but if there’s any kind of fire, you don’t want to rush into the midst of things. Trust me.”
She jerked free, but raced through the kitchen to the rear stairs. Gordon maneuvered past her, taking the steps two at a time, holding on to both handrails, more to make sure Angie didn’t try to overtake him than for balance. He sniffed the air, seeking a whiff of smoke, hoping not to find it.
Once they hit the ground, he cut through the narrow alleyway between Daily Bread and the shop next door, Angie still on his heels. When they reached the street in front of the diner, half a dozen patrons and the Daily Bread wait staff milled about on the sidewalk. But other than the shriek of the alarm, everything seemed normal enough.
“Where’s Ozzie?” Angie shouted above the noise. Her head whipped from side to side as she searched the cluster of people. She rushed toward the spot where the rest of the staff waited. Then, abruptly, the alarm cut off, bringing a welcome silence.
Ozzie, Daily Bread’s portly cook, emerged from the building, holding a cell phone to his ear. The sound of sirens grew nearer. A Mapleton Fire Department truck and an ambulance swung to a halt in front of the diner. Gordon shook off a stomach-sinking feeling of déjà vu.
Ozzie shoved the phone in his apron pocket and clomped toward the approaching rescue workers.
“It’s nothing,” Ozzie said. “Maybe the chicken I was grilling set off the smoke alarm. My guess, though, is that someone was sneaking a smoke in the restroom. No fire that I could see.”
“We’re still going to take a look,” a firefighter said. He raised his voice. “Everyone, please stay outside until we give the all clear.”
Davey Gilman and Tom Reynolds, two of Mapleton’s paramedics, worked their way through the cluster of people. “Hey, Chief.” Gilman smiled, white teeth gleaming against his ebony skin. “What’s this thing you’ve got for fire lately? Heard about your rescue operation. Trying to switch careers? If you are, I’d reconsider the firefighter thing. Safer being a paramedic. We wait outside until they’re done.”
“Not to worry,” Gordon said. “Had enough smoke eating for a lifetime.”
Reynolds, as light as Gilman was dark, nodded, his expression somber. He clapped Gordon on the shoulder. “Sorry about the victim. But he was too far gone before you even got to him. You’re lucky it didn’t get you, too.”
There was something in Reynolds’ tone that cut straight through Gordon’s gut. Until that instant, he hadn’t internalized how lucky he had been. “Yeah.”
Once Ozzie had finished talking to the firefighter, Angie trotted to the cook’s side. “What happened? Was it a fire? Did the sprinklers kick in?”
Ozzie pursed his lips. “No. And they would have if that was the problem. I was grilling chicken when the alarms went off.”
“Grease fire?” Angie asked. “Flare-up?”
Ozzie fisted his hands at his ample waist. “Don’t see how. I cleaned the grill before I started grilling. Nothing different from what we do every day. When the alarm went off, I pulled the chicken while the staff got everyone outside. I called 911 and reported it, per regulations. My guess is it was Erin, sneaking a smoke in the restroom. I’ve warned her more than once. Pain in the patoot, if you ask me.”
“I’ll talk to her. At least it didn’t happen later, when we were full. Will we be able to have dinner service?”
As if in answer to her question, the firefighter came out. “Everything’s fine in there. No evidence of any residual smoke. You can get back to work.”
“Can you tell what set off the smoke detectors?” Angie wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the chill air. “Ozzie said he wasn’t doing anything to trigger an alarm, and the sprinklers didn’t kick in, so it wasn’t a problem with the grill. Was it a faulty detector? They’re all wired together.”
“Can’t tell,” the firefighter said. “According to the main panel, it was the detector in the restroom that activated first.” He nodded in Ozzie’s direction.
“Told you,” Ozzie grumbled. “I hope this teaches Erin a lesson.”
“I’m sure it will.” Angie wiped a hand across her forehead. “But to be safe, I’ll get all the detectors checked out. Make sure they’re not going off by accident, or are too sensitive. And, I think we should offer vouchers to the people who were here. What do you think?”
While Angie and Ozzie discussed the best way to salvage the rest of the day, Gordon fell into step with the firefighter who was strolling to the truck. “Do you think someone might have tampered with a detector?” Gordon asked.
The firefighter stopped. “I suppose, although there was nothing obvious. Normally, people disable them, not set them off. Do you have reason to believe someone did?”
“Hey, it’s part of being a cop. Always looking for the dark side.”
“If you want to go inside and have a look-see, be my guest. We’re out of here.”
The crew climbed on board the engine and drove off, followed by Gilman and Reynolds in the ambulance. Gordon strolled over to Angie, bent and whispered in her ear. “I’m going to look inside for a minute.”
She spun away from Ozzie, her eyes wide with alarm. “Why? Do you think there’s something the firefighters missed?”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Not really. But I’d feel better if I looked at it. I’ve got a different mindset.”
“Yeah, you’re always the cop.” She waved toward the door. “But if you want a cop’s skepticism, why don’t you ask Ed Solomon to come over, too? He can find a crime just about anywhere.”
Angie’s irritation was impossible to miss. What had he done now? Shouldn’t she appreciate that he was trying to help?
He tromped into the diner.
Reminding himself to stop before charging inside, he paused in the doorway and took a slow, deep breath. He needed to look at this like a cop. Odds were it was what Ozzie had said—someone smoking where they shouldn’t have been, setting off the alarm. Still, he took his time wandering through the space. Other than some toppled chairs and a handful of uncleared tables, nothing looked any different than it did the hundreds of times he’d been here before. The kitchen showed no evidence of any fire damage—or of a fire, period.
Next stop—the restrooms. He paused in the alcove and tilted his gaze to the ceiling. No smoke detector. He’d never paid attention to the placement of smoke detectors in here. He took a whiff of the air. A trace of cigarette smoke? Even though Ozzie had said he’d thought the smoker was a woman, even though Gordon was alone, even though it was part of his job, he felt more comfortable going into the men’s room first. He shouldered the door open.
Definitely a stronger odor in here. He stopped. Checked the ladies’ room. No smoke in there. He backed out, brain spinning. Thinking. Other than Ozzie, the staff was all female. No point in Erin sneaking into the men’s room for a smoke. He called the station and asked for an officer to come over with an evidence kit.
Chapter 34
Gordon marched through the restaurant and out to the sidewalk. Angie and Ozzie stood right outside the door. The staff clustered together, talking. The customers were strung out along the sidewalk, checking cell phones, shuffling their feet, impatiently waiting for whatever was going to happen next. Gordon recognized all but two men and one other couple.
“Find something?” Angie said to Gordon, daring him to say he had.
He lowered his voice, turning away so his back was to the line of customers. “As a matter of fact, I might have.”
Angie’s eyes popped wide. “What?”
He glanced at the customers once more. They gazed at him expectantly, as if he had some kind of answer. “
Are those all the customers who were in the diner when the alarm went off?”
Ozzie’s gaze moved from one to the next, as if he were trying to match these faces to the ones he’d seen. He scratched his chin. “I’m in the kitchen more than out front. You need to ask the servers. Donna had front of the house. She’d know.”
“And why are they all waiting?” Gordon asked. “I’d have thought they’d want to get going once the firefighters left. Or did they leave belongings inside?”
“I doubt it,” Ozzie said. “If there’s a threat of a fire, you grab everything before you go.”
Gordon visualized the space. Ozzie was right. Tables with coffee cups, plates, and crumpled napkins, but he hadn’t seen coats, purses, or packages. He wished he’d have taken the few extra seconds to grab his own coat before racing after Angie.
“We promised to comp them for whatever they were eating and give them coupons for their next visit,” Angie said. “But I have to go inside to get them.” She gave a weak smile. “Apparently a free meal from Daily Bread is worth waiting for.”
“Why don’t you go get what you need. But don’t go near the restrooms.”
“I’ll be back with your coupons in just a minute, folks,” she said to the group. “Thanks for your patience.” She trotted to the door.
“So, it was Erin smoking,” Ozzie said.
“I don’t think so. Can you call Donna over, please?” Gordon didn’t think that whoever had set off the smoke detector would have hung around, but one never knew. The culprit might stay around because nobody would think he’d be that stupid. Of course, there were a lot of stupid people doing stupid things. Made it easier to catch them.
Donna, her gray curls gathered in a tight knot atop her head, walked over. “You wanted to see me, Chief Hepler?”
“I’m trying to tie up a few loose ends. Are these people the only customers you had before the alarm went off?”
