“If you break yours, you’re not having mine.”
She didn’t look over at him but just smiled.
Collecting On A Promise
JIMMY VOIGT FIGURED HE’D HEAR their names come up sooner or later, and he had wagered on sooner.
When Officer Foster came into his office to let him know about the McKinleys being at the mall, all Jimmy could do was smile.
Sean and Sara had a way of sniffing out an investigation—it was in their blood, whether they wore the badge anymore or not.
Himself, he stood proudly behind the wall of blue and would likely be there until retirement. He doubted that he would be fortunate enough to attract a wealthy benefactor to rewrite his future.
What did surprise him, in reference to the situation, was the fact that Foster had said they were in a hurry to leave because Sara knew the victim’s wife.
While the evidence leaned toward the man committing suicide, a detailed investigation would confirm the truth—whatever that may be. Unfortunately, the city’s budgets had constraints, and the higher-ups wanted this closed quickly.
“Sergeant.” Officer Salone stood in the doorway, his hand on the frame, his fingers drumming against the wood. “Sean and Sara are here to see you.”
A smile curled his lips. “Let them in.”
Sara entered first and was the vision of a lady, clutching her purse under her right arm. She wore a navy blue, knee-length pencil skirt paired with a pink blouse and jacket. Her heels were a few inches high, a fashion accessary that Jimmy never understood. As far as he was concerned women were just as attractive in flats, and less complaining.
Sean had his arm draped loosely around Sara’s waist, and he was dressed to match her in a navy blue suit. The sheen of the fabric spoke to a sizable investment.
Jimmy made a show of gawking at their free hands. “What? No booze for me this visit?”
“Hey, Jimmy.” Sara smiled at him, warm enough to melt butter, and came over to hug him.
He stood up and put his arms around her small frame. “Here, I have your woman in my arms, Sean. Admit it, she looks good here.” Jimmy laughed, and so did Sean. There was no threat to interfering in this marriage—besides the obvious fact that Jimmy was technically old enough to be her father. As much as he joked about Sara’s beauty, he thought of her as a daughter and Sean as a son.
Sara worked her way out from behind the desk while Sean and Jimmy shook hands.
“Why don’t you close the door there, Sara?” Jimmy asked her, seeing as she was standing next to it. He had a good feeling about why they were here, and everyone in the department didn’t need to know. Even with the precaution of a closed door, he was certain the walls in the place had ears because rumors circulated like a plague.
Sara latched the door and sat in the chair beside Sean. She reached over for his hand.
The motion stung Jimmy with an instant of melancholy. Even though the world had a high divorce rate, for those involved it still stung like acid. He didn’t have romance in his life and he was working to accept that. There were times he was brought down by the loneliness, but with Sean and Sara keeping him busy on the side, life was a happier existence.
“You heard didn’t you?” Sara asked.
Jimmy was nodding. “You know what it’s like. Word gets around faster than a lightning bolt.”
Sara chuckled at his analogy.
Sean was smiling. “We need your help.”
“Figured you might.” Jimmy leaned back in his chair, his fingers clasped over his stomach. He had almost lost Sean and Sara to a case a few months back and had promised to be there for them, no matter what, for whatever they needed. When he’d originally made that oath to Sean, he hadn’t thought it would somehow get him roped into domestic duties.
While Sean and Sara were away he had seen to maintaining their estate. He had made use of their stocked bar, an offered perk, and a refreshing dip in the pool on the hot days. Those days seemed like a distant memory now as the promise of winter hung in the chilled air. But his favorite advantage had been driving Sara’s Mercedes. Somehow, he had to pluck out and destroy all the memories of affluence and go back to being content with his meager existence. It was time to focus on business. “You knew the victim’s wife, Sara?”
She nodded. “We were childhood friends. Pretty near inseparable.”
Jimmy sensed a sadness there, possibly regret as well. “People’s lives take them down different paths. It doesn’t make past relationships less special.”
“Thank you, Jimmy.”
He gave her a smile and turned to Sean. “What is it you need?”
“A few things. But first of all, what way is this case leaning for you guys?”
“Guy falls to his death in a mall. Seems like either a grand show for his exit, or it was intentional. As far as which way we’re leaning, it’s too early yet.” That wasn’t the full truth, but he felt it was his obligation to shelter Sara from what was, despite her history as a cop.
There were too many question marks. If there was a struggle, why no loud shouting before he fell? None of the statements had testified to this happening. In fact, no one had commented on hearing the victim yell or seeing him go over.
What they did have, though, was a statement by both the wife and a man, saying that Jerrod Hill had been exasperated with the amount of shopping he’d been doing and that he’d threatened to end it by jumping.
“I can tell you’re holding back on me, Jimmy.” Sara’s eyes softened further. “But I’m a big girl.”
“You’re right.” He took a second, analyzing how to ease the blow. “We’re leaning toward suicide. I can tell this upsets you, but you asked, remember. Now, this is just the way things are leaning.”
“We had a feeling things might be heading in that direction,” Sean began. “It’s why we’re involved.”
Sara’s head turned to face Sean so rapidly it had Jimmy following suit. He glanced back to Sara and picked up on her subtle smile as she rested her gaze on Sean’s profile. Whenever he was around these two, at least half of that time, he gave in to the hope there was someone out there for him. He shook the thought aside, as he always did. He was too old for this love thing.
Sean continued. “I take it the mall security cameras revealed nothing.”
“You could say that.” When Jimmy had been told of the situation he’d found it so ridiculous, he wasn’t going to accept it, but it had been confirmed. “No clear view.”
Sean let go of Sara’s hand and leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“Just that. The place was so packed, there wasn’t a clear line of sight.”
“Unbelievable.”
“That was exactly my reaction. Their defense was they were fully staffed. I said, look at what good that did. Needless to say, they didn't much appreciate the wisecrack.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Not that I care much whether they did or not.”
“Fully staffed? As they should be on Black Friday. I still can’t believe it.” Sean shook his head. “Did you get anything from anyone’s cell phone?”
“Nope, all useless. Either they weren’t in focus—at all—or they didn’t have a clear line of sight due to all the shoppers.”
The initial appearance of desperation in Sara’s retinas was replaced in a flash. There wasn’t a lot that could hold her down for long. It was why she had been one of his best detectives.
“We need to know the name of a man who was questioned in the room at the same time as us,” she said.
Even though he had made a promise, the thought of crossing a mentally defined line between right and wrong, legal and illegal, made him lock up.
“You said you’d always help us,” Sean interjected.
“Yes, I know what I said.” Jimmy took in his office. It was sufficient to get the job done but not fancy by any terms. Maybe he could adjust to retirement if he got kicked to the street. He had a feeling if that ever happened though, he would land on his feet and Sean and Sara would
be there to help him. “I’ll need some information to narrow it down.”
“Of course. Officer Carr took his statement. The man had a mustache like Tom Selleck,” Sara said.
“And don’t forget his cranky wife.” Sean laughed, earning a snicker from Jimmy.
“Bev,” Sara intercepted. “I remember him mentioning her name.”
“So Magnum, P.I. and a grumpy bat? Check. I’ll get you some full names.”
Concocting Motive
MAGNUM’S REAL NAME WAS GEOFFREY Ward and he and his wife, Bev, lived in a three-story townhouse. From the front door, he led them up to the second level where there was a sitting area.
Sara couldn’t imagine living in a layout where every other room was on yet another level. The home felt chopped up and cramped. Her mind drifted to how difficult it would make getting in furniture. She shook the thought as others, about Nicole and Jerrod, came in on her.
“Thank you for talking to us,” Sara said as she took a seat in the living room. Again, as she beheld the space, she realized there was nothing architecturally redeeming about the place.
Geoffrey sank with a certain heaviness into the reclining chair, which squeaked as he moved the lever to raise the footrest. “You do realize that I still don’t believe you’re cops, but I am curious. Why are you both so interested in what I saw and heard that guy say?”
Sara sensed a small portion of him also wondered if they were involved with Jerrod’s demise somehow. It was a faint whisper that seemed to shiver through him, but when his focus came back to her eyes, he smiled in response to hers.
“You’re right, we’re not cops, but we are investigating his death.”
“Huh. Sort of like private eyes then, eh?”
“Kind of.”
“Kind of? What’s that supposed to mean?” Geoffrey pushed the footrest back into the chair and leaned forward like he was about to spring up.
“We investigate cases for people,” she began.
“Sort of off the record,” Sean added.
“Sort of like private eyes, sort of like off record. Nah, this doesn’t sound right.”
“Please, Mr. Ward, the man’s wife is a friend of mine. We’re helping her.” Sara watched as the man assessed her, probing to see if he could believe what she was saying.
“Your friend, you say?” His eyes kept latched to hers and, a second later, they opened wide. He shot to his feet. “Now I know why you’re familiar. You’re that couple that got all that money. When you introduced yourselves I thought the name rang a bell, but I didn’t know why. I’m right, aren’t I? You’re those billionaires. You inherited money from some old tycoon.”
Sean shifted his position on the chair. She sensed he didn’t really appreciate the term, as if assigning a negative connotation to it.
She smiled at Geoffrey. “That’s us.”
“My, you’re even prettier than you were in the paper. I’m sure you were on TV too, but as you can see,” he gestured around the room, “we don’t have one. We’re readers here. So, you’re not cops now, but you were?”
“That’s right,” Sean stepped in, “and we need your help.”
“Wow.” Geoffrey massaged his chin and then lowered his hand. “I’d love to help if I could, but I’m afraid I’ve told you everything I know. The guy said he’d had enough of shopping and was ready to jump. That’s all. Sorry.”
“About how long from the time he said that until he went over?” Sean asked.
“Maybe thirty minutes. Yeah, something close to that. Not long after Bev came to me and dragged me off to the food court. She needed a cinnamon bun.” He rolled his eyes. “The woman complains about the size of her waistline but then she’s always sabotaging herself.”
Sara stifled a giggle. “They are pretty delicious.”
“Yes, but seriously? She’s not going to reach her goal if she doesn’t focus.” He shook his head while a small smile lingered on his lips.
It was apparent that he loved his wife and accepted her for who she was but still realized the folly of her ways.
“Back to the man who died,” Sean said. “At the time, did you take his words seriously?”
“Do you mean did I think he’d really jump? No. I was sick of shopping at that point too. How much stuff does a person need? This whole Christmas thing is too commercial.”
“So, the talk about jumping was pure hyperbole in your mind?”
Sara smirked at Sean but he kept his eyes on Geoffrey. Sean wasn’t going to get waylaid by any further detours.
“Of course. Why would anyone jump because they were sick of shopping? Just leave the mall. That would make sense to me.” He paused, studying both of them. “You want my honest opinion, I think someone pushed him over. The place was crowded. It would just take a well-timed shove and over he’d—oh, sorry.”
Sara lifted her hand as if to say that’s fine.
Geoffrey opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but nothing came out.
“What is it?” Sara asked.
His mouth opened and closed as if he were debating whether or not to continue. “When he said it, he was dangling over the railing.”
“He was dangling?”
“He was leaning on the railing and holding onto a small yellow bag that he was swaying back and forth.”
“A yellow bag?” Sean leaned forward.
She didn’t remember seeing a yellow bag on the ground around him.
“Yes, and like I said, it was small, say—” he gestured with his hands creating an approximate twelve-inch rectangle, “about this big.”
Sara rose to her feet, keeping her eyes on the man. “Was there a name or logo on it?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “Just plain.”
“Thank you for your help. We won’t take up any more of your time.”
Sean followed her lead and waited until they had reached the car to question her. “What is it? What are you thinking?”
“I believe our answer lies in that yellow bag.” There was that downward tug on her gut.
He opened the door for her. “But you’re not happy about it.”
She shook her head and got in. She continued once he was behind the wheel. “You know my memory. Jerrod didn’t fall with a yellow bag.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you just don’t remember seeing it—”
She held eye contact with him.
“Yeah, sorry, it’s you we’re talking about.”
She smiled and then laughed. “Remember that.”
He caressed her cheek and let his hand fall. “So, what happened between the time Geoffrey spoke to Jerrod and he went over the rail? And what happened to this yellow bag? You think this had something to do with the reason he had to come shop in Albany?”
“I do.”
“It is possible. I think our answer is in finding out where the yellow bag came from and what happened to it,” she said.
“If there is a yellow bag.”
“Let’s operate on the fact there is one.”
“Sure. We’re going to have to go from store to store to see where the bag came from.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Darling?” One corner of his mouth rose.
“We talk to Nicole to see if she remembers, or maybe the police have returned Jerrod’s packages. It could have been inside another bag.”
“Hmm. I just had a thought. We know that Jerrod and Nicole went their separate ways. It’s possible she won’t know anything about it.”
“You’re a genius.” She kissed his lips with a quick tap and then built on his hypothesis. “And if she doesn’t remember it, then Jerrod picked up whatever this something was. He wasn’t dropping it off. Otherwise he would have gone to the mall with it.”
“Assuming he didn’t hide it in his jacket. He could have left it done up.”
“Except, why hide it only to flaunt it the next moment?”
“Brilliant.” Sean smiled.
Sara’s insides swirled. “Maybe thi
s is worse. It lends itself to the real possibility Jerrod was being bribed and he had something to hide. Someone had dirt on him and he needed to get it back.”
“Before we get too carried away, let’s go see Nicole.”
Sara nodded, her mind a mixture of thoughts, when something else occurred to her. “If Jerrod picked up something and received a bag for it—”
“Then he could have picked up whatever it was from a store.”
She smiled. “Yes. Now, the mall security cameras were useless, but every store would have their own.”
“You’re thinking if we figure out the store.”
“That’s right, we get some answers. Maybe even see our killer’s face.”
Conflicting Evidence
SHELLEY TOWNSEND OPENED THE DOOR and when she saw them, stepped to the side to let Sara and Sean in.
“She’s down the hall, in the kitchen.”
“Thank you,” Sara said.
“Uh-huh.”
The door closed heavily behind them. Over the last twenty-four hours, it was obvious that Mrs. Townsend hadn’t let go of the past, regardless of what Sara was doing on behalf of her daughter. But some people were impossible to please, and it was starting to seem like she may be one of them.
Sara led the way to the kitchen, with Sean close behind her. She heard Mrs. Townsend’s footsteps take a left. Not long after, they grew faint and disappeared.
Nicole was sitting at the table, cradling a steaming white mug. If Sara guessed correctly, it was coffee—freshly brewed. She spotted a K-cup machine on the counter. Her steps halted, her mind on a dark roast.
“Good morning, Nicky,” she said, feeling sheepish for the choice of words as soon as they left her lips. Good morning to a woman who had lost her husband the day before?
“Hey.” Nicole stared down into her cup for a few seconds. When she raised her eyes, they were narrowed a bit, as if she realized Sara’s steps had stopped.
Sean hid his amusement—he knew her well enough to know that a coffee possessed the ability to blind her at the best of times.
Before she allowed herself to become fully distracted by the thought of a full-bodied java, she moved to Nicole and hugged her. “How did you sleep?” Another silly thing to say. After all, how would Sara have slept if she had lost Sean? The answer was simple. She wouldn’t have.
Shopping is Murder (McKinley Mysteries Book 6) Page 4
