by Darcia Helle
Chapter 23
Bright sunshine greeted the day, bringing a much-needed escape from the gloominess of rain and clouds. The digital clock on Lucianna’s dashboard told her that it was 7:45 A.M. The temperature hovered right at thirty-eight degrees. Despite the sun streaming through her windshield, the car remained cold. She flicked the heater up to high and cursed her New England roots.
Vinnie had told her that Sam normally arrived at the office at 8 A.M., picked up his schedule along with his work truck, and was on his way by 8:30. Lucianna planned to surprise him for a little early morning chat.
The building was situated on a side street in the center of town. Old brick, big plate glass windows. It sat in a row of other businesses, jammed between a dance school and a flower shop. Lucianna pulled into the adjacent parking lot that served all the businesses in that row. She switched off the engine, pocketed her keys. And waited.
Five minutes passed. She was about to start her car, as her feet were begging for heat, when Sam’s old Jeep swung in. He parked, then slid out, squinting into the sun while sipping from an extra large paper cup full of caffeine. He stood about 5’10”, had an average build, thinning light brown hair, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. Nothing about his appearance implied that he was a bad guy. People really should come equipped with glowing LED displays on their foreheads.
Lucianna stepped out of her car, which was parked two spaces from Sam’s. She said, “Mr. Evans?”
Sam spun around. The initial annoyance in his expression quickly turned to pleasure. Lucianna often had that effect on men. Sometimes that could be a great asset in her line of work, although it often irritated her.
“What can I do for you?” Sam asked.
Lucianna smiled, held his eyes. “My name is Lucianna Martel. I was hoping I could talk to you for just a minute.”
“For you I’ll even allow two minutes.” Sam chuckled at his attempted humor. He said, “I’m sure I don’t know you because you are not someone I’d forget. So what’s this about?”
Lucianna resisted the urge to pull her jacket tight around her neck. The illusion of being relaxed and carefree would likely get her a lot further than a shivering female cowering from a little wind. She said, “I’m a private investigator and I’ve been hired to try and help Corinne McCormick.”
A nameless emotion flashed in Sam’s eyes. His smile immediately faded. His posture grew rigid. “I see,” was all he managed to say.
“The two of you were friends, is that right?”
“Uh, yeah. But I don’t know anything about what happened to her.”
Lucianna let that statement settle for a moment. Then she said, “We don’t know that anything actually happened to her. That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“Yeah. Right. I mean, I don’t know why she, you know, went crazy.”
“Can you tell me when you last saw her?”
Sam hesitated. He glanced at the brick building beside him almost longingly. “I don’t remember exactly. Maybe a week or two before. Then I called after it happened. After she, well, whatever. I called. Ian told me about it.”
“Do you know if anything was bothering her in the weeks prior? Did she seem nervous? Frightened of anything? Anxious?”
“No.”
“Was she dating anyone else that you know of?”
“She was free to do as she pleased,” Sam said. “But I doubt she would’ve shared it with me. So I don’t know.” His gaze flickered back to the building. “Look, I gotta get to work. Sorry I couldn’t help you but, like I told Ian back then, I don’t know anything.”
Lucianna smiled, despite the unease in the pit of her stomach. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Sam. She said, “I appreciate your time. Please call me if you think of anything that might help. Even if you think it’s minor or silly.”
Sam took the card, said, “Sure.” Then he turned and walked briskly away, disappearing around the corner before Lucianna had time to move in the direction of her car.
***
“He didn’t call this time,” Vinnie said.
Lucianna raised her eyebrows in question. Vinnie simply stared at her. She slipped out of her coat and said, “Good morning Vinnie.”
“It’s ten o’clock.”
“Did I miss another one of those Bills passed by the government? Do mornings now end at 9:59?”
“You’re wise this morning.”
“And you’re grumpy.”
Vinnie huffed at that. “Not grumpy. Irritated.”
“Because it’s ten o’clock?”
Vinnie stared, said nothing. Finally Lucianna said, “Okay, who didn’t call this time?”
“Your stud. Patrick.”
Lucianna broke into laughter. “Patrick, a stud? That is one label I never would have stuck on him.” She flipped the top off of her paper cup and sipped her tea. “Now why would that irritate you? I would think that’s good news.”
Vinnie tapped a pen against his desk and continued to stare. “I said he didn’t call. Instead he arrived here promptly at nine, insisting on seeing you.”
“Oh.”
“For some reason, he didn’t believe me when I informed him that you were not due in until later. So he sat here with me, making lame attempts at small talk for thirty-five minutes.”
Lucianna chewed her lip to keep from laughing. She didn’t think there was another human being on earth that hated casual acquaintance small talk more than her uncle Vinnie. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I suppose he’s coming back?”
Vinnie gave her a look that made her wonder if she had suddenly sprouted a third eye on her forehead. He said, “I rather doubt it.”
“What did you do to him?”
“I never left my chair.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“How could I do something to him if I remained seated the entire time?”
“Vinnie…”
He sighed. “I merely suggested that it may be unwise for him to continue pursuing you.”
“Merely suggested?”
“That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You need to be more forceful,” Vinnie said. “If he is stupid enough to call you again – and I assume that he is – then you need to be clear and brief. This man is not packaged together properly. I don’t like the way he is stalking you.”
“He’s not stalking,” Lucianna said, although she seriously questioned that herself.
“Don’t argue with me.”
Lucianna kissed Vinnie on the cheek. She said, “Point taken. And thank you.”
She settled into her office. After glancing through her messages, none of which required immediate attention, she opened her file on Corinne McCormick. The file continued growing, although it seemed to be a lot of pieces that didn’t fit together. She needed more information, some family background. Personal information that might help her make sense of the pieces.
Reminding herself to remain professional, she picked up her phone and dialed Ian’s cell phone number. She chose to ignore the fact that she had committed it to memory. He answered on the fourth ring, a little raspy and breathless. The sound conjured unwanted erotic images. She flushed and was glad no one was around to see.
“Hi Ian, this is Lucianna. I’m sorry if I caught you at a bad time.”
“It’s okay,” Ian said. “I needed a break.”
A drill whirred in the background. A loud bang was followed by an even louder curse. Ian said, “Sorry. Let me move away from this racket.” A few seconds passed and the noise grew distant. “Sorry about that. How are things going?”
“Slow but steady,” Lucianna said. “I’d like to get a better feel for your mom’s past. I was hoping we could get together either today or tomorrow so you could fill in the gaps for me.”
“Did you want my mother there, too?”
“I don’t want to upset her. Maybe it would be better not to include her this time.”
>
“Okay.” A pause, then Ian said, “Today’s tough. I doubt I could get away much before six. Tomorrow morning would be easier.”
“Fine with me. My office at nine?”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
As she hung up, Lucianna realized that she was grinning much too happily.
***
Graham swung his Impala into an empty lot on the north end of the city. The corner of the city that no one liked to acknowledge. Not even those who were unlucky enough to live there. He left the car idling, switched off his headlights. He stared out the windshield, watched the trash blow across the lot.
Sterling wasn’t happy. Not that he’d come out and said so. That would serve no purpose. So he’d sat in silence throughout the drive. Brooding.
Graham tapped a Camel from its box, flicked his red Bic, inhaled. He blew a lung full of smoke into the silence. Sterling coughed, cracked his window. Graham said, “So tell me.”
“She met with Evans,” Sterling said. “This morning.”
Graham sighed a stream of smoke. “And?”
“And what?”
“How long did they talk? What was the mood like? For Christ sake, you’re a cop. Give me your take on the situation.”
“She showed up at his work first thing this morning. Unexpected, from what I could tell. Conversation was brief. Evans looked in a hurry to get away from her.”
Graham let the cigarette dangle from his lips. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. Sterling waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, Sterling said, “Evans would be a logical person to talk to. You know, from the standpoint of retracing Corinne’s steps. Looking for answers. Probably doesn’t mean a thing.”
“Yeah.” Graham ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. “Then why not call him on the phone? Make an appointment? Wouldn’t that be the logical thing to do? That is, if Martel didn’t suspect Evans of anything. If she was just talking to him because of his involvement with the McCormick broad.”
“So you think she knows something?” Sterling said. “Evans wouldn’t say anything. He’d be incriminating himself.”
Graham blew a stream of smoke at the heating vent. “All she needs is a little thread to pull on.”
Sterling moved closer to the door and sucked in some air from his window. “Yeah…”
“And that thread wouldn’t be all that hard to find.”
“Christ.”
“He ain’t gonna help you. We need to get this thing settled before she becomes a problem. And given her reputation, I’d say we’re running out of time.” Graham lowered his window, flicked his cigarette butt into the parking lot. “You need to talk to the McCormick broad.”
“I tried -”
“No trying. You need to do it. Break in if you have to. Find out what she told Martel. We need answers. Now.”
Sterling turned away, stared out the side window. Graham said, “Informants are getting us nowhere. Nothing’s seeping onto the street. Not a fucking word. Nico knows we’re watching and closed up shop for awhile. She’s all we’ve got. So handle it.”
Chapter 24
Sterling climbed into the rental car, nearly shattering the glass when he slammed the door. He despised Graham for pushing him into this. He despised himself even more for going through with it.
During the entire ride, he debated with himself, muttering and cursing as if he had an audience. Or at least a passenger. Anyone watching would have thought he’d completely lost his mind. Who knows, maybe he had.
When he turned onto her street, he was aware of the powerful thud against his chest. Was his career worth this? If God had any compassion, He’d toss down a full-blown heart attack right now, rather than the minor anxiety attack he was currently in the throes of.
Sterling had no such luck. Instead he was left here, fully conscious and aware, to wade through this mess he had helped create.
This time he pulled the car into the driveway. If any of the neighbors happened to notice it and report the license plate number to the great Lucianna Martel, the rental car could only be traced to a nonexistent identity Graham had created just that morning. A lot could be said about having to disguise your identity in order to pay someone a visit. He didn’t care to examine any of that.
He forced himself to stop thinking, got out of his car, and strode to the front door. The doorbell echoed inside. But this time Corinne opened the door wide, smiling happily, as if she’d been expecting her Avon lady. Or maybe the UPS man with a special package.
As soon as she focused on his face, her expression froze. Then her mouth dropped open, her hand flew up, and she bit her knuckle. She attempted to shove the door closed but he already had his foot wedged in the opening. She backed away, shaking her head.
His heart sank. His throat tightened. Yet he stepped inside, then closed and locked the door behind him.
***
Winter hadn’t even arrived and already Ian couldn’t wait for spring. Contrary to the opinions of a few of his acquaintances, working outside in the cold was not invigorating. Each task took twice the energy to complete. The whole ordeal was like running up a down escalator that happened to be in the middle of a deep freezer. In short, it sucked.
And worse than that was the loss of daylight. Dark by 4:30 in the afternoon. That may have been okay if he had a warm fire and a loving woman waiting at home for him. He had the warm fire, when he made it, but sharing it with his mother was not exactly what he had in mind. He was cold and cranky and would be glad when he was in his bed with his eyes closed for the night.
The day had been long and strange. When he’d left the work site to pick up lunch, he’d noticed a car following him. But it had been a green Toyota, not the tan Impala that Lucianna had told him to watch for. So he’d written it off to paranoia and forgotten about it. At least until he’d seen that same car circling the block while they’d been cleaning up later in the day.
Now he wondered if it meant something. He shook his head, feeling ridiculous. He was suddenly acting as if he had the lead role in some sort of spy movie. Why would anyone want to follow him around? The guy in the Toyota probably lived in the neighborhood. That made a whole lot more sense.
Ian swung his truck into his driveway and punched the button on the garage door opener. The entire house was in darkness, which was not a good sign. Normally his mother had so many lights on that you’d think the electric company paid her per kilowatt used.
Inside was eerily quiet. He called out to his mother. She did not respond. He flicked lights on as he passed through each room, still calling to her. He was on the verge of panic when he finally found her curled up in a ball on the floor of her closet. Exactly the way he’d found her that first night nearly four months ago.
His stomach lurched. His heart pounded wildly. He knelt down slowly, talking to his mother as if all was well and perfectly normal. His voice came out soft and calm. Odd how that was possible when his insides were in turmoil.
Corinne’s eyes were glassy and unfocused. When he reached out to her, she squirmed tighter against the back wall of her closet. He pulled back and continued to talk, assuring her that she was safe, repeating much of the same words he’d uttered that first time.
Minutes passed. Time stretched on without change. Ian was considering calling an ambulance, as he had that first time, when Corinne finally focused her eyes on him and whispered, “Ian?’
“Yes ma, it’s me. I’m right here.”
“Are you… Are we alone?”
“Yes. It’s just you and me in the house. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.”
“He was here,” she whispered.
“Who was here?”
Corinne shuddered and repeated, “He was here.”
“Someone was here today? In the house?”
No words this time. She simply nodded. Ian held out his hand to her. “Come on out now, ma. You’re safe. It’s okay.”
She gripped his hand, holding on fiercely as s
he crept out of the closet. Her hands were like ice. She was shivering.
Ian grabbed the throw blanket from her bed and wrapped it around her. “Let’s go in the kitchen,” he said. “I’ll make you some hot tea.”
“Okay,” Corinne whispered. “He was here.”
“Can you tell me who he is?”
Corinne said nothing else. Ian sat her in one of the kitchen chairs, made her tea, and put a plate of her favorite cookies on the table. She stared at them blankly for a moment. Then finally she took a sip of tea and reached for a cookie.
While she nibbled, he sat across from her nursing a beer. He was tempted to drink himself into oblivion. The thought was intriguing but his rational side won out. He stuck to the one beer, watched his mother, and felt his insides crumbling.
***
A brisk wind howled through the alley. Sterling watched debris float in the air, then land back on the dirty pavement. Working on this end of the city used to make him feel good, like he was helping to bring positive change. Now it just made him sad.
He listened to Graham talk on his cell phone. Not business. Most likely Graham’s wife. He could usually tell, since Graham always used a sweeter tone with his girlfriend than with his wife.
Graham gave him a look, as if he was supposed to close his ears somehow. He wasn’t about to step out into the stinking, cold alley. If Graham wanted privacy, he could step outside himself.
A young hooker strolled up to the street corner. She winked at Sterling on her way past the car. They knew each other. And she knew they wouldn’t arrest her, even though that was their job. They wouldn’t because she gave Graham freebies whenever he requested them. How often that occurred was not something he cared to know.
Finally Graham flipped his phone shut and stuffed it in his pocket. “So?” Graham asked.
