by J. C. Kenney
“Come on, Boss. Nobody’s going to believe that. Like it or not, your reputation precedes you.”
I sighed, then winced when my muscles protested from the larger than normal air intake. “The reputation we need to be concerned about belongs to the Cobb Literary Agency. Where are you on the manuscript edits?”
With the conversation back where I wanted it, we spent the rest of the morning on agency business. After discussing the edits I’d assigned Calypso, we moved to her work on the royalty statements. Satisfied she’d done flawless work on them, I had her process payments while I sent out notices to my clients that they were on the way.
The final item on our agenda was the status of the query in-box. I was giving her more responsibility with this task every week. Initially, I only let her go through the queries and send rejections only to those who hadn’t followed my submission guidelines. Failure to follow those guidelines got the author an automatic rejection. After a couple of months of that, I began to let her send rejections to those she could tell didn’t meet the agency’s standards.
“We received sixty-three queries this week. There are three I think you’ll be interested in. I saved them in your review folder. There are another five I don’t think you’ll want, but I wanted to leave that up to you.”
I gave her a high five. It was gratifying seeing Calypso put her talents to use. The last few weeks, I’d also noticed the additional time I had in my schedule, thanks to her efforts. That extra time was coming in handy while I was investigating Valerie’s murder.
“Great work. I’ll look them over this afternoon.” I filled our coffee mugs. “Time to enjoy the weekend.”
After Calypso took off, I did some stretching to work out the remaining kinks in my muscles. When I finished, I felt surprisingly good. Confident that was a sign I was on the way to a speedy recovery, I grabbed Ursi’s harness and gave it a shake.
“Come on, girl. Let’s take a walk and tamp down any rumors regarding my adventures of yesterday.”
She trotted right up to me and sat on my foot. The gaze of her unblinking golden eyes said everything. Ready to roll, Mom.
Ursi was excited to get outdoors. She hadn’t injured herself within the past twenty-four hours, either. Her progress down the stairs was like the hare while mine was more tortoise-like. I apologized when I reached the ground floor. She gave me an impatient meh and stroked a paw against the door.
“Lead the way, then.”
Once outside, she stopped for a second and sniffed the air while she looked to the left, then the right. Evidently, something to the right was more interesting because she headed that way.
Within a few minutes, my cotton shirt began to stick to my skin. The sauna-like conditions were good for my sore back and limbs, though. When Ursi decided to take a break under the shade of a massive sugar maple, I attempted some toe touches.
Normally, I’m as limber as a gymnast. I often play a game with the twins to see who can touch their toes. On a good day, I can bend over and put my palms on the floor.
While Ursi looked on, I struggled to brush my ankles with my fingertips. As my arms dangled, she got up and licked the salt off my fingers. It was one of her odd habits. She usually didn’t do it in public, though.
“You are so weird.” I flicked at her nose with my fingers, then straightened back up. That’s when an idea popped into my head.
“Let’s head back, girl. I want to check something out.”
Initially, Ursi protested, but when I promised to give her some fancy soft food I kept for special occasions, she practically leapt ahead of me. Some people think cats aren’t smart. I’m among those who know better.
A little while later, Ursi was devouring her meal while I searched for a spare bike helmet. I got a new helmet every two years. That way I always had the latest safety measures protecting my noggin. When I got the new helmet, I kept the one I’d been using as a spare. Call me obsessive, but one never knew what might happen out on the road and the spare would need to return to service.
Like getting whacked by someone on a motorcycle.
“Here it is.” I backed out of my bedroom closet, where I’d stashed the helmet on a shelf. Relief coursed through me as the chin strap engaged with a solid click. My idea was insane enough as it was. Undertaking it without head protection would have made it a nonstarter. This way, I could tell myself I was minimizing the risk.
To my head, at least.
I gave my bike a tire-to-tire inspection before leaving the building. After my soak the night before, I’d called Mom to assure her I was okay. While we talked, I’d given my trusty steed a cursory exam. I’d been pleased with both Mom’s acceptance of my explanation of the crash as well as the condition of the bike.
It would be a lie to say I wasn’t a touch shaky when I started turning the pedals. It wasn’t a physical issue, though. Rather, I found myself glancing over my shoulder more often and taking longer at stop signs to resume pedaling.
The ride along Redbud Lane was unnerving. Despite telling myself not to, I still slowed to look at the scene of the accident. I broke out in goose bumps when I considered what could have happened.
For the second consecutive day, I turned into the mobile home park. I wasn’t paying Connie a return visit, though.
I was paying a visit to Ronald Spade. Or, to be precise, to his home.
My tires crunched on dead leaves as I rolled to a stop two trailers down from my destination. While Connie’s trailer showed the pride the woman had in her dwelling, Ronald’s displayed a serious disinterest in upkeep. The front lawn was little more than a patch of neglected weeds. A window shutter was missing and the wooden steps to the door were splintered and in need of replacement. Whatever Ron had been doing with his time since being released from prison, it sure wasn’t being spent on home maintenance.
It had occurred to me during my walk with Ursi that I might find a clue there. Sure, it was a long shot, but what if Ronald had hidden evidence related to Valerie’s murder at his Mom’s place?
My research indicated the police had searched the apartment where Spade was living at the time he was arrested. They’d found nothing to incriminate him in Valerie’s disappearance.
Spade’s mom, like everyone in the mobile home park, had been interviewed, but her home hadn’t been searched. In hindsight, that helped prove the police didn’t take Valerie’s disappearance seriously.
To be fair, though, what could the cops have done? There was nothing to indicate foul play. They had nothing to go on.
I, on the other hand, did.
Nobody seemed to be at home, so I stashed my bike behind a bush and crept around to the back side of the trailer. I had no intention of looking inside. I wanted to know what was underneath. A white vinyl skirt covered the gap between the bottom of the trailer and the ground, creating a crawl space about two feet high. My aim was to root around in the crawl space.
A loose piece of skirting wasn’t hard to find. In minutes I was on all fours, squirming through an opening into the gloomy, cobweb-filled cavern. My muscles only made a mild protest.
It was helpful to be young and have quick recuperative powers.
The musty conditions got the best of my nasal cavities and I let out a loud achoo. When there was no response to my sneeze, I began my search. With a small flashlight in my mouth to guide me, I made my way from one end of the crawl space to another. The gravel beneath me was soft, but I was still grateful I’d had the foresight to wear leggings and keep my cycling gloves on.
After ten minutes of methodical searching, my hand sank into the gravel. When I pulled it out, the pebbles rolled away to reveal a piece of canvas.
“What do we have here?” I pulled on the cloth until it came free. It was a tarp. Apparently, someone had hidden it here by covering it with gravel. I unfolded it and took in a sharp breath.
“Jackpot.”
Chapter Fourteen
Stoked that I’d found the proverbial smoking gun, I let out a la
ugh. How long had this section of nylon rope been hidden here, right below Spade’s living space?
While this may have been a moment of triumph, the police needed to take the next step. Just because I wasn’t working with them didn’t mean I was against them. Before making my exit, I took a few pictures of the rope. Then, I took a few more snaps of the crawl space. If the rope went missing, I wanted proof of what I’d found and where I found it.
With my mission accomplished, I scrambled back into the daylight as quietly as I could. A quick scan of the area assured me the coast was clear, so I sprinted to my bike. I’d tempted fate enough. The call for the cavalry could wait until I was some distance from the house.
As I punched the numbers for the Rushing Creek Police Department, another piece of the puzzle fell into place. The investigation was gaining momentum.
A few minutes later, a Rushing Creek police cruiser motored past me, coming to a halt in front of the Spade residence. Jeanette got out and said something into her radio.
A couple of minutes after that, another car arrived. Matt emerged from the driver’s side. A woman dressed in a gray polo shirt and black pants got out of the backseat. It was Spade’s mother. Apparently, Matt had picked her up from wherever she was working.
Despite my desire to insert myself into the scene, I stayed still, confident I’d provided enough information in the call to lead Jeanette to my discovery.
Since Matt didn’t want me interfering, I’d also let discretion prevail. If an anonymous tip led to the discovery of a potential key piece of evidence, so be it.
Thankfully, I’d anticipated finding something in the crawl space, so I’d worn two sets of clothes. I stashed the top layer, leggings and a long-sleeved shirt, both of which were now dust-covered, in my saddle bag. I covered them with a shop towel and a spare inner tube, just to be safe.
I draped my riding gloves over the handlebars. If anyone asked why they were so grungy, I’d blame the accident. Seemed plausible to me.
Besides, this business of having to investigate Valerie’s murder while looking over my shoulder for the authorities was getting old. If they questioned me and didn’t like my answers, tough.
While Matt and Spade’s mom were engaged in a heated conversation, complete with arm waving and finger pointing, I read work emails. There was no point in getting behind on my day job, after all.
Eventually, the woman threw up her hands and went inside. As soon as she was out of sight, Matt and Jeanette went around to the back of the trailer. I held my breath while they were out of sight. A line of sweat had formed on my brow by the time they finally returned.
The knees and elbows of Jeanette’s navy uniform were dusty. She was smiling, though.
And holding a loop of yellow rope in her gloved hands.
Matt bagged the evidence, then entered the trailer. Jeanette spoke into her radio again, then strolled toward me.
“Afternoon, Allie. Imagine my surprise seeing you here.” She brushed the dust off her uniform as she gave my bike a once-over.
“I was in the area.” I pointed in the direction of Connie’s home. “My client lives over there. So, what brings you and the chief here?”
“It’s funny you should ask. We got an anonymous tip there was potential evidence in the Briggs case. The tipster said we’d find it in the Spades’ crawl space. You saw that we found something, I assume?” She picked up my gloves and studied them.
“I saw you put something in an evidence bag. From here it looked like some rope.” I took a drink from my water bottle. “It caught my attention because I heard Valerie was strangled with yellow nylon rope.”
Jeanette chuckled as she kicked at a few pebbles. She was my friend. She was also an officer of the law whose boss didn’t want her discussing case details with me.
“I’ve heard the same thing. Though you need to be careful. You, of all people, should know sometimes a rumor turns out to be true and sometimes turns out to be something else entirely.”
“Indeed, I do. And if it does turn out to be true?”
Yet another police cruiser came to a stop in front of the Spade trailer. That made three of Rushing Creek’s four police cars in one place at the same time. Hopefully no bad guys would get wind of this and try to knock off a bank.
“I have to get back to work. Evidence to collect, that kind of thing.” She leaned in close. “If it is true, and I’m not saying it is, things are looking bleak for Ronald Spade.”
She turned on her heel and was gone before I could respond. As I sat on my bike, a shadow of doubt started to gnaw at my sense of accomplishment.
It was a question of timing.
If Spade was the murderer, he couldn’t have killed her at the time of Valerie’s disappearance. She wasn’t far enough into her pregnancy for that timing to work.
Before I could ponder further, Matt emerged from the trailer. After a few words with Jeanette, he marched right up to me.
“I told you to stay out of this.”
“And I believe this is a free country and I can ride my bike where I wish.” While it wouldn’t do any good to antagonize the man, I wasn’t going to let him bully me.
He scratched his chin, then looked up at the sky. When he returned his gaze to me, he chuckled.
“Sometimes you are so much like your sister it scares me.”
“Like my sister or your ex-wife?” Bringing up Matt and Rachel’s divorce was a cheap shot, but I didn’t care. A murder needed to be solved. In time, we could get over any feelings that might get hurt. Nothing could bring Valerie back.
The least I could do was stand up for her.
“Two sides of the same coin, actually. You’re both smart, strong-willed women who won’t hesitate to put me in my place. Especially when I need it.”
“Oh.” It was all I could manage. His apology took all the righteous indignation–fueled wind out of my sails. And served as a timely reminder that he really was one of the good guys.
“Jeanette told me you just happened to be in the area when we arrived. You sure you don’t know anything about the anonymous tip that brought us out here?”
“I know nothing about any anonymous tips.” Since the tipster was me, the call hadn’t been anonymous. Taking a razor-thin view of the matter, at least.
Jeanette’s evidence collection kit was open on the hood of her cruiser. She and the other officer were out of sight, presumably taking another, closer look around the trailer. It made me wonder if any fingerprints could be recovered.
Hopefully, none of mine would show up. Not that I needed to worry about being accused of Valerie’s murder, but still. Plausible deniability regarding the discovery of the rope was something I wanted to maintain. For the time being, at least.
“Of course you don’t.”
“Thank goodness for the tip, regardless of who made it.”
“You’re not wrong. Nobody should jump to any conclusions, though.” He gave me a long look.
Message received. I wasn’t going to give up that easily, though. “You have to admit the circumstances look a little suspicious. Ronald Spade was a suspect in Valerie Briggs’s disappearance. Now, rope that’s eerily similar to the rope used to strangle her is found on his mom’s property.”
“Suspicious, yes.” Matt popped a piece of gum into his mouth. A sure sign of stress. He used to smoke when he was feeling the pressure. I was pleased he hadn’t reverted to his old habits.
“But not definitive.”
He shook his head. “I know the town wants Valerie’s murder solved. I want that, too. I can’t go off half-cocked, though. I don’t have to just uphold the law, I have to follow it. And that means ensuring this investigation is conducted legally, thoroughly, and in such a way that all suspects’ constitutional rights are protected.”
The passion with which he spoke caused a lump to form in my throat. It was reassuring that we wanted the same thing. It crushed my spirit that we couldn’t work together to get it.
“Fair enough.�
�� Sensing an opportunity to mend some fences with Matt, I took a deep breath to give me time to figure out how to phrase what I wanted to say next.
“I appreciate the effort you’re putting into the investigation. Both the department and you personally. It means a lot.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Despite what some people think, I’m not a carbon copy of my old man. I’ve sworn to protect and serve everyone in this town. That’s what I’m doing.”
I wasn’t certain if Matt’s clapback was aimed at me or Connie. The message was received loud and clear, regardless of its intended recipient. It did provide me with an opening for another question.
“Have you talked to your dad about the case? And the, you know, recent developments?” I hadn’t spoken to the man since Matt and Rachel’s divorce had been finalized.
“I called him. Figured he ought to know. To warn him in case reporters started showing up on his doorstep, too.” He spat out his gum and immediately replaced it with another piece. “People want to crucify him for this.”
“Was he able to give you any insight into the case?” If people wanted to crucify the man, so be it. Figuratively, not literally, of course. Louis Roberson had been known to play favorites, dispense justice unequally, and turn a blind eye to sexual assault matters. In my book, he wasn’t a good man and hadn’t been a good cop.
He had information about this case, though. That’s what mattered at the moment.
“Not a lot. He told me everything relevant would be in the case file.”
“What about information that might not appear so relevant? I mean, he must have had some thoughts or ideas he kept to himself or put in a notebook that never got into an official file.”
“He thought the father, Phil Briggs, probably killed Valerie. By all accounts, the two couldn’t stand each other. There wasn’t enough evidence to charge him with anything, though. When he died, dad figured that was the end of it.”
“And now?” Since I had Matt talking, I figured I’d keep going until he shut me down.
“He was wrong. And I have to figure out what, exactly, he was wrong about.” He tipped his hat and walked back to his vehicle, his cryptic response sending shivers down my spine.
