Dickens of a Death

by Ashantay Peters

  “Yeah, you didn’t do me any favors. I had to clap a bag of frozen peas on my crotch before I could walk out the door.”

  “You left the house with a bag of cold food stuck into your pants?”

  “Not going there.”

  “So why’d you tell me I didn’t know shit just when things got steamy?”

  “I didn’t and the chief called me to the station for an update.”

  “He couldn’t ask during work hours?”

  “Chief gets called in, so do I. Mayor asks for an update, mayor gets one.”

  You’re getting close to nailing the guy, right?” I figured if I slipped in the question, he might answer before realizing what I’d asked. Or not.

  “Oh, so you’re the mayor now? You know I can’t talk with you about investigations. And by the way, what are you up to? I haven’t heard reports of smoking cars or nosy girl detective wannabes asking questions around town. Should I hope you’ll let me handle this case without you?”

  “No need to get sarcastic, Dirk.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Oh, no? Well, gee, let me think for a minute.” I let the silence between us grow.

  “Katie, you’re pissing me off. What do you know and tell me how you learned the information.”

  I jiggled when I remembered Gramps. “You won’t believe what we heard. There’s an antique store in Chesterfield, run by an old guy who is gone right now.”

  “So, what. The expensive mahogany sideboard told you a story?”

  Dirk’s alter-ego, Cop A-hole, ranted in fine voice tonight. I decided to wait until Cop Sexy returned. Didn’t take long.

  “Sorry. Long day. Short fuse. What did you learn?”

  I wished I could run my hands through his butchered haircut. He insisted on using the same beautician even though her skills sucked. I’d given up that battle after one skirmish. Bad hair days—his or mine—didn’t slow us down.

  “Katie?”

  The fantasy of where my hands would travel next blinked out. “Yes, um. I’m thinking about how to tell you everything.”

  I interrupted his sigh before it could shift into real irritation. “Hold onto your bag of peas. I told you about the café, but I forgot about Gramps until now.”

  “Who is Gramps? Your new lover? Or do you have Intel on a retirement home crime ring pushing stolen enhancement drugs?”

  Phew. I heard a teasing note in his voice. “Very funny. Gramps owns an antique store in Chesterfield.”

  “And? Should I make a trip over there to pick up your Christmas gift?”

  “No, you should drive there to talk with him about Jansen Buchanan.”

  “You do know that Chesterfield is out of my jurisdiction, right?”

  “Um, yeah. I thought you could visit on your off-time.”

  “You know better. I’ll go through channels, see what I can do.” He lapsed into silence. I could picture him running his hands through his hair and wished I could watch in person. “Katie, Buchanan is connected. You’ll let me handle this, right?”

  “Sure.” Right up until the time I saw official actions that would keep Patricia from jail come to a halt.

  His voice took on a seductive note. “So where were we the other night?”

  “Did you expect me to hold that level of heat for two days? You’d better start from the beginning.”

  “Not quite two days and yes. I’ve had a walking half-boner for almost that long.”

  Just like that, heat flashed between my thighs and I fanned myself with a magazine article on giving good head. Dirk assured me I didn’t need lessons, but I’d saved the periodical just in case.

  “So, what are you wearing?”

  “Not much,” I said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “You’ve got my full attention. Tell me.”

  “I’d rather talk about what we’re going to do together once we’re naked.”

  He sucked a breath. I know because my ear got simultaneously suctioned against the telephone receiver. Either that or sexual deprivation had my ears ringing. I thought I heard chimes. Could be the promise of reaching heaven on Dirk’s voice.

  “My first action is kissing that soft place behind your ear. You know the one.”

  Damn, those weren’t bells. Someone waited at my door.

  “Katie, I know you’re in there.” Ginger.

  “Aw, shit.”

  “You’re not mewling like a kitten.”

  “Dirk, Ginger is at my door. She knows I’m here, and she’s not leaving.”

  He muttered a string of obscenities. “Call me once she’s gone.”

  I marched to the door and flung it open. Then my pique died quickly. Ginger resembled a rag that’d been twisted dry by an enormous pair of hands. I put my arm around her shoulders and guided her to the couch.

  “How could Dirk do this to us without warning?”

  I sank to the couch beside her. “Dirk? What did he do?”

  “Mom was picked up by two patrolmen and taken to the station for questioning. She’d have gone on her own. He didn’t need to embarrass her that way. I can’t believe he could act like such a, a—”

  “Ginger, Dirk and I were on the phone together when you arrived. He couldn’t have had anything to do with your mom. No way.”

  “Maybe that’s why he sent two patrolmen. He could be on the phone with you and pretend innocence.”

  “Nope.” I automatically pulled a blanket around her shoulders to stop her shivering. She was angry, that’s all. “Dirk wouldn’t act that way.”

  “Oh, no? Then tell me where he is right now.”

  “Home. He’s home.” My confidence shook a tad. I countered by picking up my phone. “I’ll call him right now. You’ll see.”

  “The phone rang multiple times before Dirk picked up.

  “What took you so long to answer? Never mind. Where are you now?”

  “Ginger left? Good. I’m in the bathroom. Just finished my cold shower, and I’m damp all over. Only have a towel wrapped around my hips.”

  My brain stalled.

  “Where is he?” Ginger hissed.

  I shook my brain synapses into motion. “So you’re not at the station? Were you planning on going in after we had phone sex?”

  His answer took a moment but his words tumbled over each other. “Katie? What’s happening?”

  I huffed out a breath. “Ginger says two patrolmen picked up Patricia and took her to the station for questioning.”

  “They walked her out in front of all her neighbors, like a criminal,” Ginger added.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Yes. I’m leaving now. Stupid asses.” He followed those two words with a short string of derogatory assessments about the chief and his minions before hanging up.

  I squeezed Ginger’s hand. “I’m glad you came over. Dirk will straighten this out.”

  “I hope so. Who ordered my mom picked up?”

  “Don’t know.” My guess was the chief, or the mayor in cahoots with the chief. Either way, it looked bad for the white hats.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Babe.” Dirk sounded tired.

  “Everything okay? Is Patricia home? More important, are you still on the case?”

  “She’s home. Yes, I’m hanging on to the case. Nathan Anderson pulled a boner. Stupid shit. He’d be on administrative leave if he weren’t the mayor’s nephew. Circumventing the lead investigator without checking first?” He made a buzzer noise.

  I sat on the edge of my couch glad I wasn’t Dirk’s target. He’d been angry with me before, but I’d never heard him livid. He sounded long past infuriated.

  “So why did he pull such a knuckleheaded move?”

  “No doubt his uncle ordered the pick-up. I hope I never have to work for another candy-ass chief. Should have known better.”

  The previous chief hired Dirk, then retired. The new chief and Dirk had never seen eye-to-eye.

  “So you’re still on the Shorter
case, right? Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Do you want to know what occurred or what I think?”

  “Whatever you can tell me.”

  “The mayor tried an end run that didn’t work. I convinced the chief that I should remain lead investigator. Dumb-ass desk jockey threatened to take over my fieldwork. How he made chief is beyond me.”

  I knew why. The chief had strong political ties to Mayor Stephen Rose and half the city council. Dirk knew that too, but he needed to blow steam without interruption.

  “I reminded the idiot of the negative ramifications if the case got blown. He was only too happy to make me the potential scapegoat.”

  “There are only a few days left before Eddie Byrd returns from leave.” I didn’t mention that Dirk would likely be replaced with a good guy, but one who doesn’t color outside the lines.

  “I know.”

  “When will you go to Chesterfield?”

  “The chief told me to concentrate on local suspects.”

  Didn’t take a physicist to know Patricia would get railroaded. The act of picking her up at home was another salvo in Mayor Rose’s war. I was sorry I’d promised Patricia to keep my mouth shut about Stephen Rose’s past. Rose thought he had the upper hand, but I fight nasty when protecting friends. I’d find a way to throw some dirt at him and soon.

  “You’re too quiet, Katie. I want you to promise me you’ll stay out of this mess.”

  “I don’t walk away from a fight, and I want to help.”

  “This isn’t your fight. I need to know you’re safe, Katie. That’s how you’ll help.”

  “I understand.”

  “That didn’t sound like a promise to me.”

  “It’s the best I can do. If I hear any gossip, I’ll pass it along right away. Okay?”

  He sighed. “Not okay, but I know that’s the most I can expect. Be careful. If something happened to you—well, I’d go a little nuts.”

  “Back at you, big boy.” I cleared my throat. “So, you ready for a little phone hanky-panky?”

  “Does Santa wear a beard?”

  ****

  We had just three full days left before Eddie Byrd returned on Monday, potentially taking over as lead investigator. Not that we needed more pressure.

  “Ginger, do you want to head back to Chesterfield today?”

  “Don’t you have work?”

  “Not much this week. I can take time as needed. So what do you say? Want a road trip?”

  “What I’d like is to hear Mayor Rose is the killer and that he’ll get a life sentence without parole.”

  “Yeah, I agree, but what are the odds the interim mayor is as much a crook as the man he replaced?”

  “Depends. We have our share of corruption.”

  “So what time do you want to leave? I called and Mr. Finster is back in town.”

  “I’m ready now.”

  “On my way.” Ginger had lent me one of her older cars until I could find one to buy. My insurance check hadn’t yet arrived, so I still tooled around in her ride. She stood on the porch waiting, and we got on the road. Even so, the trip took us longer than we thought, and closer to an hour later, we parked and walked to Finster’s Antique Store, Ralph Finster, Prop. Better known to me as home to Gramps and his reluctant granddaughter.

  The music bopping granddaughter wasn’t in attendance, but Gramps sat behind the counter paging through a stack of paper. He stood when we entered.

  “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

  “Just looking, thanks.” Looking for information on my part. Ginger had scooted to the back corner. She’d spotted something good given her smile. I stepped up to the plate.

  “Actually, you may be able to help. We’re visiting from Granville Falls.” I smiled. “We stopped the other day when your granddaughter was here.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you the ones who said you shopped with Richard Shorter?”

  Gramps didn’t appear excited with the idea.

  “Um, yes?”

  “Welcome to my store. You’ll find fair prices for authentic merchandise here.”

  “Yes, we know. My friend bought some Christmas ornaments, and she kept bugging me until I agreed to return with her.”

  “Your friend has good taste and a better eye. Those glass birds were the best I’ve seen in a long time. I found some harps up in Virginia.”

  I nodded even though I had no idea what he talked about. Perhaps Ginger would get more out of him, but I figured he’d softened and I’d take a shot.

  “Your granddaughter said this is a tough business made more difficult by fakes. Is that a problem in your business? Fraudulent items or faked provenance?”

  “She’s right. There are some bad eggs, but they get caught out somewhere along the line.” He relaxed in his chair. “Tell me, did Shorter pass along some fakes? To you or someone you know?”

  I nodded. “We hoped you’d help us.”

  He shook his head and began sorting through his papers. “Don’t know much.”

  I ignored his body language and disavowal. “We know that Jansen Buchanan dealt with Shorter.”

  His hands stilled. “That man deserves to get ripped off.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Thinks he knows everything about antiques. Told me I didn’t recognize a Chippendale desk.” He sniffed. “Insufferable idiot. I knew it was a knock off.”

  “Do you know where Buchanan bought the desk?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t care, either. Buchanan traded with me at first. Even when he started off, thought he knew more than me.” He tapped his forefinger on the counter. “I grew up in this business. Studied here after school when my dad ran the place.”

  “You’re an institution in town.”

  “You bet.”

  Ginger arrived at the counter, gently holding four more tree ornaments. These were small harps similar to the birds she’d purchased here and no less exquisite.

  Gramps cackled. “You’ve sure got an eye, young lady.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. I didn’t notice these the other day.”

  “That’s because I didn’t have them in the shop until this morning. Good thing you got here today.” He picked at the price tag string of one ornament. “Some woman over in Granville Falls wanted me to put these aside for her.” He snorted. “Like I run a discount store.”

  Ginger stopped digging in her purse. “Do you happen to know her name?”

  “Sure. Rose. That was my grandmother’s first name.”

  My friend shared a grin with me. Her purchase just became sweeter.

  He finished with one ornament and picked up another. “Yes, she sure was ticked about missing out on the birds I had here the other day.” He looked up from his task. “The ones you bought.”

  My grin froze on my face. I rubbed my jaw to wipe my expression clean. “Madeline Rose was here the same day as us?”

  He shook his head. “How would I know? Just got back yesterday afternoon. She called me, though. Left a nasty message with my granddaughter.

  “Say, I just realized something. I’ve heard about you two girls. Asking questions. You’ve been known to snoop around.” He nodded. “I remember my sister-in-law nattering on about you.” He shook his head. “She’s been getting her hair done over in Granville Falls for years.” Another head shake. “Told my brother not to marry her, but did he listen?”

  Finishing with the final ornament, he looked us each in the eye. “Which one of you lives with the cop?”

  I raised my hand to shoulder height. “Well, we’re separated right now, but Ginger also has police contacts. Kind of.”

  “You tell them to look into Buchanan’s estate dealings. Something funny going on there for years.”

  My hand dropped. “That’s why we’re here. Well, besides buying more ornaments. My, um, we think the police investigation is being deliberately limited.”

  Nodding, Gramps straightened. “No doubt by small town politics.” He stood quie
tly. “Look, I probably shouldn’t say anything, but I know nothing will get done in Chesterfield.” His silent debate showed in his pinched expression and quick glances at us.

  “I’ve had suspicions about Buchanan’s estate handling. I do a lot of insurance appraisal work.”

  We leaned closer when he lowered his voice. “More than once, the best pieces of an estate I’d appraised in the past never made it to auction.”

  Ginger responded first. “Perhaps he was given first pick as part of the will?”

  His lips twisted. “And wasn’t that lucky?”

  I piped up. “Abused his executor’s position, did he?”

  “Won’t say that, but on one occasion, a family member raised a stink over some Revere silver she said she’d been promised for years. About two hours later, the pieces were found.” He stressed the last word.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that never happened again,” I said. “After that, he probably only helped himself when no heirs were involved.”

  He gave me a knowing look. “All I’m saying is that something stinks at Buchanan and Tyler. No one in town will ask the hard questions.”

  Ginger and I exchanged glances. It’s not as if we could make inquiries, either. Chesterfield wasn’t Granville Falls, where we had contacts and a lifetime’s worth of interaction.

  “Do you have a suggestion of someone we could speak with here in town?”

  He placed his palms on the counter. “No. And I only told you this to get a hearing with police officials, even in another town.” Gramps shook his forefinger at us. “Don’t even think about asking around. Buchanan has ears everywhere. He protects himself.”

  “Yes, we saw him with his body-builder friend,” I said.

  “That’s his personal assistant,” he said with a flick of his wrist. “His words are worse than his bite. I’d watch Buchanan before that muscle-bound assistant. Man has a temper.”

  Ginger rubbed one temple with her fingers. “So, if someone exposed Jansen Buchanan, or even threatened to make his dealings known, the lawyer wouldn’t be a happy man.”

  “Not only do you have a good eye, you have a quick mind.”

  He caught my gaze. “Now you know why I want you to talk with your cop boyfriend. Maybe he can get the right people interested.”

  I saw what Gramps meant. He couldn’t raise a stink without putting himself and his business in jeopardy, but he held a unique position, knowing that Buchanan could have been misusing his position for years. Not only would exposure mean probable disbarment, Buchanan could face more punitive measures. And if he killed Shorter, he faced jail time.