A Deadly Discovery

by J. C. Kenney

  “Do you have any suspects?” She eyed me like a skittish cat.

  “A few.” I didn’t want to risk jeopardizing the investigation by sharing too much information, but I could throw her a bone. “Ron Spade isn’t among them.”

  “That’s good. I mean, the guy’s a creep, but he wouldn’t have laid a hand on V-Blade. He knew not to cross the Four Horsewomen.”

  “Unlike Cecil Burgess.” It was a calculated shot. I didn’t want to injure the woman, but she was the one who contacted me.

  She stared at the grass. “Yeah, exactly.”

  “I’m so sorry he hurt you.” I put my hand on her arm to attempt to reassure her. I wasn’t here to expose long-hidden scars. I just wanted to find out who murdered her friend and bring that person to justice.

  “For a while, I was sorry, too. Not for a long time, though. The Four Horsewomen taught me it wasn’t my fault. He was the criminal, even if nobody ever believed me.”

  “Do you think he might have had anything to do with Valerie’s death?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve asked myself that question a thousand times. I just don’t see it. Not after Ava cornered him at school and threatened to shiv him if he tried to touch any of us again.”

  I let out a laugh. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Then again, I understand Ava’s a chef. I guess she’d know how to shiv someone.”

  “That’s why she was the one who made the threat.” Star smiled for a moment, then turned serious. “Speaking of threats, I heard you got run off the road the other day. Do you think it was connected to your investigation?”

  Despite my previous admonition to Calypso, absolute candor seemed to be the way to go with Star.

  “At the risk of sounding paranoid, yes.” I told her about the crash and the associated injuries. “The problem is I only got a quick look at the motorcycle. It wasn’t enough to get a good ID.”

  Star played with one of her earrings, apparently deep in thought. “Where did you say this happened?”

  I told her. “I’d gone to see Bobcat, then Connie, and was on my way home.”

  “That dirty, rotten . . .” She shot to her feet. “I have an idea who ran you down. Come on.”

  I followed Star to her car, a silver Honda Hybrid. Small and fuel-efficient, it was the kind of vehicle I’d own if I had to have one. Not that I had plans on getting one any time soon. Still, it couldn’t hurt to keep an open mind.

  “Where are we going?” In a moment of panic, I had visions of Star driving into a field, confessing that she was Valerie’s murderer, and then ending my life.

  My vivid imagination was invaluable in my life as a literary agent. It was less so in times when irrational fear had me wrapped up in its clutches.

  “You said you were coming back into town on Redbud Road, right?” She gave me a quick look as we headed out of the parking lot. At my nod, her brows narrowed. “Just a little while after paying a visit to Cecil. That’s no coincidence. We’re going to pay him another one.”

  I held on for dear life as Star barreled through town, turning the steering wheel left and right like she was at the helm of a video game. A guy with short hair and a bushy beard gave her a one-fingered salute in response to her leaning on her horn when he didn’t get out of the street fast enough.

  “Do you always drive like this?”

  “Like someone out of a Mad Max movie, you mean?” She laughed. “Nah, only when I’m on a mission. Like we are now.”

  She shouted at a pair of bicyclists to stay in the bike lane as she swerved around them, barely avoiding a head-on collision with a delivery truck.

  I gritted my teeth and held on for dear life as the tires squealed in protest to her yanking the steering wheel to get us onto Redbud Road without slowing down. I also promised to drop an extra donation into the collection tin at Mass on Sunday if I survived this trip.

  A few terror-filled minutes later, we whipped into the recreation park’s parking lot, skidding to a stop mere inches from the office building.

  “Woohoo! That was fun.” Star bumped my arm with her elbow. “Swear to God, when the kids are in the car, I use my turn signals and never exceed the speed limit. Now, let’s get some answers.”

  She leapt from the car and had her hand on the office door handle by the time I had unbuckled my seat belt. This woman was proving to be a force of nature. S-Rocket couldn’t be a more perfect nickname for her. By the time I got out of the car, her back was to the door.

  “It’s locked and all the lights are off.” She pointed toward a black pickup truck in the far corner of the parking lot. “That’s Cecil’s, so he must be around here somewhere. Come on.”

  We came upon him in a garage, tinkering with an ATV. Star didn’t bother knocking. She marched right up to him.

  “We need to have a talk, Cecil.”

  He straightened up, wiping his hands on an orange shop towel. His frown turned into an outright scowl when his gaze moved from Star to me.

  “Long time no see. I’m afraid we’re closed, so you’ll need to come back tomorrow. I’ve got a big crowd coming in that I need to get ready for. You ladies have a nice evening.”

  He lifted the vehicle’s engine cover, but Star put her hands on it and forced it closed. “No. She has questions. You have answers. You’re going to give them to this woman right now.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Yes, you do.” She picked up a wrench. “Let me put it this way. You tell Ms. Cobb what she wants to know and you and me are even. Got it?”

  I held my breath as they stared at each other. Words weren’t needed. The realization that the stories about Bobcat assaulting Star were true, and that nothing had been done for the girl, was a punch to the solar plexus followed by a kick to the spine.

  Over twenty years ago, that girl had been a victim of a sexual assault. Now, she was a woman who was offering the man who assaulted her a get-out-of-jail free card. All in exchange for information to help bring her friend’s murderer to justice.

  When he didn’t respond, she threw the wrench at the ATV. It bounced off a fender and fell to the floor with a jarring clang.

  “Fine. We’ll do it the hard way. Did you whack Allie when she was out on her bike the other day?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” He dug his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t know what your problem is, but if you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the cops.”

  Faster than a cobra could strike at unsuspecting prey, Star swiped Bobcat’s phone from his hand. The she dropped it down her shirt.

  She was quickly becoming my hero.

  “Let me rephrase my question.” She went to the corner of the garage and yanked on a tarp. Underneath was a black dirt bike. “Is this the bike you used in your attempt to murder that woman?”

  “It’s not what you think.” He put his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t attempt to murder anyone.”

  Star had Cecil in full retreat mode. It was delicious to see her knock him down a peg or ten.

  “Fine. Have it your way. I have clothing that I’ve kept hidden for almost twenty-five years. I think it’s time I take them to the police. Come on, Allie. You can be my witness when I turn them in.”

  She locked arms with me and guided us out of the garage. We’d gone twenty feet when Bobcat asked, no begged, us to stop.

  Star kept her voice low so we couldn’t be overheard. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Allie. Thank you. Now, for V-Blade.”

  We turned around.

  “Well?” Star crossed her arms. “Start talking. I haven’t got all day.”

  “Okay, yes, you’re right.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “It was me.”

  “What do you mean, ‘It was me’?”

  “I’m the one who hit you, Allie. I’m sorry.”

  I lunged forward, but my arm was still interlocked with Star’s. She held me in place. It was a good thing, since right then I wanted to punch the man who could have killed me.

  “Why did
you hit her?”

  “I don’t know. I panicked, I guess.” He locked gazes with me. “Your poking around freaked me out. I didn’t mean any serious harm. I just wanted to scare you into giving up your investigation.”

  Star’s hold on me loosened. I took a single step forward. Any more and I would have torn into the man. And wouldn’t have regretted it for a second.

  “Why did I freak you out? You told me you can’t remember anything from the time Valerie disappeared. Were you lying? What was so important that you thought it was a good idea to darn near put me in the hospital?”

  Just like that, Star shot past me. Despite her size disadvantage, she grabbed Cecil by his shirt and shook him like he was a ragdoll. Then she practically dragged him back into the barn, shouting “What are you hiding?” the whole time.

  I followed, unsure what, if anything, I should do. Witnessing twenty-three years’ worth of anger erupt like a volcano right before my eyes was shocking.

  And I thought I’d seen it all.

  She shoved him against the SUV. Then, with her chest heaving, she put her hands on her knees. “Spill it.”

  “I took her to Indianapolis.” Bobcat shouted the words, as if his explanation would be more believable if it was made at maximum volume. That, or he didn’t want to give Star a reason to come near him again.

  “I drove her there, all right? She said she had last-minute Christmas shopping to do. She offered me fifty bucks to drop her off at the Greenwood Mall.”

  Star was still trying to catch her breath, so I marched up to him. I wanted to smack him for hiding the truth for so long, but there had been enough threats and violence. Instead, I waited until he looked me in the eyes.

  “How was she supposed to get home. Did you offer her a ride back?”

  He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. “I didn’t stick around. She said she was meeting some friends and would get a ride back with them.”

  His story was as flimsy as a cheap, balsa wood toy airplane. There was a grain of plausibility in it, though. Assuming, of course, that he was telling the truth.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone this at the time? You know, when you could have made a difference? Like, saving her life.”

  He dropped his head until his chin touched his chest. “The only person I cared about back then was me. She wanted a ride. I gave her one. She paid me. Our business was done. To be honest, I didn’t care what happened after that. That last thing I was going to do was draw attention to myself by telling people I’d given her a ride to Indy. If people started poking into my business, they’d have found things I didn’t want them to find.”

  I was speechless. Utterly without words.

  The thought of withholding information that could have helped the authorities find Valerie was unconscionable. Especially when that information could have prevented her murder.

  “You’ve had twenty years to concoct your story. Why should we believe you? You were on the baseball team. For all we know that bag was yours.”

  It was important to use we instead of me. Star’s stake in this showdown was as big as mine, if not bigger.

  “Back then, I was a total dirtbag. I freely admit that. I don’t blame you for not believing me. Let me show you something.”

  He rummaged around in a modular closet, tossing things aside until he found what he was looking for. “Here it is.”

  With an air of resignation rather than victory, he tossed something at my feet.

  It was a bag.

  I ran my hand across the black nylon material. The Rushing Creek baseball logo was faded with age but still easy to read. Familiar, too. Connie had shown me a photo she took of the bag Valerie had been buried in. It matched the one in my hands.

  “After I got kicked off the team, I threw it in my trunk and forgot about it. It was one of the few things that didn’t get destroyed in the crash. I took that as a sign and kept it.”

  “What do you think, Star?” I held out the bag to her. “Should we believe him?”

  “I’m guilty of a lot of things. A lot of bad things.” He held his hands out in a pleading gesture. “But I’m not a murderer. All I can do is ask you to believe me.”

  Star’s gaze went from the bag to Bobcat to me. When we made eye contact, her upper lip began to tremble.

  “We’re done here, Allie. Let’s go.” She marched out of the barn without waiting for me.

  “This isn’t over.” I tossed the bag to its owner. Maybe it exonerated him. Maybe it didn’t. That was a determination to be made at another time.

  Star was in the car by the time I caught up. Her face was in her hands and she was shaking like a leaf in an autumn breeze. The poor woman. Years ago, she’d been traumatized, and today she’d had to live that trauma all over again.

  I tried to get into the car without disturbing her. When she looked at me, her tearstained cheeks made my heart ache.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She smiled and let out a little laugh. “Don’t be. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become such a crier. These are tears of relief, I think. I’ve been waiting so long to confront that monster. God, it feels good to have finally done it. Thank you.”

  Her reaction had me puzzled, yet pleased, too. If I’d helped her, in even the smallest way, deal with some of the emotions she’d kept bottled up all these years, our meeting had been totally worth it.

  “You’ve been a huge help. The least I can do is buy you a drink. What do you say?”

  “I’d like that. And while you’re at it, maybe you can tell me how I can help you catch V-Blade’s killer.”

  “Deal.” As we headed out of the parking lot, I closed my eyes and sent a message to Valerie’s murderer.

  I’m still coming for you. And I’m getting closer.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The moment my alarm went off to Grace Potter’s soul-tinged rocker “Back to You,” I was out of bed, ready to attack the day. Normally, I liked to start my workweek with a cup of coffee while I read emails.

  Not this Monday. And especially not after the mind-blowing events of the previous day.

  While I had a murder to solve, my authors needed to come first. That meant getting agent work done. While the coffee brewed, I took a shower and plotted out my day. I had a lot of balls in the air and needed to focus to make sure none of them crashed to the ground and brought me down with them.

  After a couple of hours emailing authors and editors about various manuscripts, I pushed away from my desk and gave myself a high five. One editor was taking a cozy mystery manuscript to her acquisitions committee later in the week. It wasn’t a guarantee an offer was forthcoming, but it was a super-positive sign, and a time to call it a day on a good note.

  After lunch, I asked Ursi if she was up for a walk. She was curled up on my bed like a croissant and responded by giving me a wide yawn and flipping over to her other side.

  “Guess I wore you out yesterday, huh?” When she ignored my question, I scratched the ruff of her neck for a minute, kissed her head, and headed for the door. It was time to collect the donations businesses had pledged, but not paid, last week.

  And to cut down on my list of murder suspects.

  After a weekend relatively free of humidity, as I stepped outside there was no doubt the dog days of August had returned. The air was like a wet blanket under an unforgiving sun. I took my time strolling down the Boulevard, trying to use as little energy as possible.

  On days like this, I was thankful for not needing my bike. When I was on two feet, I could play vampire by dwelling in the shadows cast by the buildings on Rushing Creek’s main drag. My plan was to work my way down the shady side of the street, cross and come back the other way, then return to my starting point. With almost a dozen businesses to visit, it was going to be a long, hot slog.

  The cause made it totally worth the sweat, though.

  When I reached the south end of the Boulevard, I popped into Marinara’s for a drink to cool off. And act like a normal
person and not a creepy Undercover Boss.

  While I sipped an iced tea, I went through my fundraising materials. So far, I’d collected almost three hundred dollars and was only a quarter of the way through my labors. It was a much-needed reminder of how generous my community was.

  Which made it even more upsetting to accept that one member of the community also murdered a young woman twenty years ago.

  With that sobering thought in mind, I dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table and returned to the task at hand.

  When I got to Borus Insurance, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Ted was one of my suspects, so this visit had taken on a new importance. Initially, my plan had been to drop off a receipt for the donation he’d made and show him a mockup of the promo materials with his company logo on them.

  Now, while I did that, I also planned on doing some snooping.

  I chatted with Felicia for a bit while Ted finished a call. During our conversation, I wandered over to the photo of the baseball team that included what I was now calling the Dirty Half Dozen. Next to it was Ted’s All-State plaque and a framed letter from Florida Coastal University offering him an athletic scholarship.

  “What happened to him?” I returned to the receptionist desk. “If he was such a hot shot, how come he never made it to the pros?”

  “Depends on who you ask.” She leaned across her desk and glanced toward Ted’s office. “Officially, he got hurt. Tore a ligament in his elbow or shoulder. The injury was career-ending.”

  “What about unofficially?” Felicia wasn’t one to gossip, so she had my undivided attention. Whatever she had to say could be taken to the bank.

  “Ted was a bit of a partier growing up. Still is, actually. But that’s beside the point. There’s been a rumor that while the injury was serious, it wasn’t in and of itself career-ending.”

  “Then what ended it?”

  “His drinking. He had a fondness for the bottle in high school, but evidently it got out of control when he was out from under the watchful eye of his parents.”

  “Really.” I didn’t know what else to say. Accepting that Ted’s injury had ended his budding baseball career kept his golden boy reputation intact. To think something else, especially something so unsavory like alcohol abuse, was tantamount to heresy.