by Gerri Hill
“Yes, you’re right,” she conceded. “But I have another concern.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s very little secrecy in town, even within our department. Professionalism only goes so far. Everybody knows everybody.”
“So you’re saying if we discuss anything in front of the guys, then it would be all over town by evening?”
She nodded. “Gossip is what it is. Tim’s Uncle Ray, for instance. He’ll know everything. There are no secrets,” she said again.
Murphy arched an eyebrow. “Obviously there are secrets. Secret video recordings, secret hiding place. Two men dead.”
“The secret recordings are now missing,” she added. “Which tells us maybe they weren’t so secret after all.” She pointed to the empty spot. “And a missing laptop.”
“I searched his desk.” Murphy shook her head. “Nothing much at all in his desk drawers.”
“Guy Woodard was on the tapes. He’s dead.” She met Murphy’s gaze. “My uncle is on the tapes. I need to let my dad know.”
Murphy nodded. “Okay. But when you tell him, tell him as a cop and not as a daughter. Read his expression.”
“You still think he knows something?” Kayla shook her head. “He’s my father. And I’ve already agreed with you that he was acting strange, but if he knows anything, he wouldn’t keep it from me.”
Murphy shrugged. “Okay. Your call.”
She glanced at her watch. It was going on five already. “Look, how about we talk to him together—at dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Yeah, my mom is making enchiladas.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “White chicken enchiladas. They’re to die for.”
“White chicken?”
“Meaning a cheesy, white sour cream sauce—not a red sauce. You’ll love them.”
“Well, yeah, they sound good, but…I don’t know about crashing your parents’ dinner.” Murphy gave an apologetic shrug. “I’m not sure your father really likes me all that much, you know.”
“It’s because you’re gay, that’s all,” she said without thinking.
Murphy’s eyebrows rose. “That’s the reason? God, I haven’t had to deal with that in more years than I can remember.”
Kayla sighed. “It really has nothing to do with you. It’s more about—” Her phone interrupted and she smiled before answering. It was Kevin. “Hey there.”
“Hey. I heard a rumor you got into town last week and not even a call yet?”
“Sorry.” She glanced at Murphy and smiled. “Been kinda busy. I’m actually at Mr. Foster’s office right now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess Earl put you to work right away, huh? Crazy happenings in town.”
“Yeah. Listen, can I call you later? Maybe we can get together for lunch or something,” she suggested.
“Sure. But Cheryl and the kids would be mad if I got to see you and they didn’t. Maybe next weekend we can grill out, do burgers or something. You free?”
“Hard to say right now, Kevin. Let me get back to you.”
“Okay, sure. Give me a call when you can.”
She looked at Murphy, wondering why she felt the need to explain. “That was—”
“The ex-husband,” Murphy supplied with a shake of her head. “A lunch date?”
She smiled. “Actually, he invited me over to their house. Over the weekend,” she clarified. “So…dinner? We talk to Dad?”
“Okay. If you think he won’t throw me out.”
“He won’t throw you out. And you’ll love my mom. She’s the complete opposite of him. She’s very nice, very friendly.” Then she laughed. “Not that I’m saying my dad isn’t nice, mind you.”
“Right.”
Kimbro was still guarding the front door and dutifully locked it when they came out.
“You going to get relieved soon?” Murphy asked him.
“Yes, ma’am. Jeff’s gonna take over for me at six.”
When they got back into the patrol car, she couldn’t help but laugh. “‘Yes, ma’am’? I think he’s scared of you. What did you do to him?”
“Nothing. I hardly talk to him.”
“I think that’s it. Lori said you were kinda…well, standoffish with everyone.”
“That’s what she said, huh?” Murphy said as she pulled out of the parking lot.
“What did you think of Cross Roads?”
“The beer joint? Wouldn’t mind shooting pool there sometime. Got a lot of stares though.”
“Well, not too many strangers pop in, you know. But I’m not too bad at pool. We should go one night, have a beer and play.”
“You’re not worried about your reputation getting soiled?”
“How so?”
“Well, your dad apparently doesn’t like me because I’m gay. I’m sure he’s not the only one in town who feels that way.” Murphy glanced at her and smiled. “You need to be careful who you associate with, you know.”
Kayla laughed. “Of the people who hang out at Cross Roads Tavern, we would be the two most upstanding citizens there. I don’t think we’ll need to worry about our reputations.”
Chapter Fourteen
“You be nice to her,” Kayla said, pointing her finger at her father.
“Anything we need to discuss, we could have done it at the station.”
“I already explained why,” she said as she went to the door. She hated to admit that Murphy was right, but she got the feeling that her father definitely was hiding something.
She opened the door, finding Murphy standing there, looking a tad nervous. Kayla couldn’t hold back her laugh. “You look like you’re picking me up for a date, and you’re scared of my father,” she teased.
Murphy smiled at her. “If I was picking you up for a date, I’d be honking my horn from the curb. No way I’d come inside. Your father has a gun.”
Kayla grinned too, then grabbed Murphy’s hand and tugged her in, closing the door behind her. “I’ll warn you; he’s a little cranky tonight.”
“Oh, well, there’s something new.”
She laughed again, then her smile faded a little as her father stood watching them from the dining room. She ignored his glare. “Come into the kitchen. I’ll introduce you to my mother.”
Murphy, too, ignored her father, giving him only a slight nod as they passed by him. Her mother was at the stove, tending to the Mexican rice she’d decided to make at the last minute.
“Mom, meet Mandi Murphy.” She heard Murphy’s groan and she laughed quickly. “Sorry, but I refuse to introduce you as just Murphy.”
“So you’re the mysterious Murphy I’ve been hearing about,” her mother said. She wiped her hands on a towel, then reached out and shook Murphy’s hand heartily. “You’re much cuter than I would have thought. The way Earl made you sound; you had two heads or something.”
“Mother!”
“Oh, I’m sure she knows how your father is by now.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Murphy said with a smile. “Pleased to meet you. I hope you don’t mind me popping over for dinner.”
“Of course not. I know y’all are going to want to talk police business, but I’ll have none of it until after dinner.” She turned toward the dining room “Earl? Come mind your manners and help set the table. Dinner’s ready.” She turned back to Murphy. “Don’t let him scare you off. He’s more bark than bite.”
Kayla hid her smile as her father came in, mumbling under his breath as he took four plates from the cabinet. She couldn’t tell if Murphy was amused or frightened by him.
“Oh, and I made up a fresh pitcher of sweet tea. Would you fill the glasses, Kayla?”
Kayla elbowed Murphy. “You get the ice. I’ll get the tea.”
It was a rather quiet affair as her mother loaded their plates with enchiladas and rice. She patiently waited as her mother said grace before picking up her fork. She was only barely able to stifle a moan at her first bite. Murphy, however, wasn’t shy.
“Wow, this is
incredible,” she said as she chewed. “I wish I cooked. I’d steal the recipe from you.”
“Thank you, Mandi. It’s one of Kayla’s favorites. I’ve given her the recipe several times, but I doubt she’s even tried it yet.”
“I tried it once,” she said. “And it tasted nothing like this. Besides, in the tiny kitchen I have now, I wouldn’t even attempt it.”
“Well, I’ll volunteer my kitchen,” Murphy said. “It’s huge. But if you cook it there, you’ll have to leave half of it with me.”
“Maybe I will. I like to cook, but making dinner for one is not much fun.”
“No need for you to cook,” her father said. “You can eat here every night if you want.”
“If I ate Mom’s cooking every night, I hate to even think about how much weight I’d gain.”
“I eat it every night and I ain’t gained a pound.”
Her mother laughed. “Oh, Earl…are you blaming that belly of yours on beer then?”
“Same belly I had when you married me.”
“Hardly. You were as thin as a rail.” Her mother looked at Murphy. “Jason, our son, took after me, poor thing. Kayla can be thankful she’s got her daddy’s build. The only thing I gave her was her blond hair and blue eyes. That’s from my side of the family.”
Her mother was short and a little on the plump side, but Kayla would never call her fat. And her father, despite the beer belly he’d sported for the last ten years or so, was still tall and thin. She didn’t get his height, but neither did Jason. Jason was only an inch taller than she was and at least sixty pounds heavier.
“Speaking of Jason, have you talked to him lately? I emailed him a couple of weeks ago—to let him know I was moving back here—but I never heard back from him.”
“I called him and let him know about Guy Woodard,” her mother said. “He was as shocked as everyone else. Why, I still have a hard time believing it.” She shook her head dramatically. “And I heard from Margie—her sister is a teller—that the bank is in total disarray now.”
“Don’t know why,” her father said. “He was only the president. Not like they don’t have a whole slew of people to make decisions. Course they’re saddled with Herbert Miller as chairman of the board. Hell, everybody knows he doesn’t do a damn thing.”
“I heard they were going to have his funeral on Saturday,” her mother said.
“So you’ve gotten the coroner’s report back?” she asked her dad, wondering why he hadn’t shared that with them.
He snorted. “Yeah, I got a report. Like I need a damn doctor to tell me his whole goddamn head was practically blown off.”
“Earl! We have company!” her mother protested.
“Yeah, and like she hasn’t heard that word before,” he muttered. “Hell, your daughter hasn’t even been back a week yet and I’ve heard her use it three or four times already.”
“I learned it from you.” Kayla reached across Murphy for the rice. Murphy pushed the bowl in her direction but not before scooping out some for herself first. “Thanks.”
“More enchiladas, Mandi?” her mother asked.
“Just a little, if I may. And…you can call me Murphy, Mrs. Dixon. I’m not too keen on answering to Mandi.”
Kayla laughed. “Her mother wanted a cheerleader.”
“Bet she was surprised,” her father drawled.
“If that’s what you wish, then Murphy it is,” her mother said. “But there’ll be no ma’am or Mrs. Dixon. I get enough of that at school. You may call me Bobbie.”
Murphy nodded. “Thank you. I will.”
The rest of the meal was passed with idle chatter about the weather—her mother couldn’t remember the last time they’d had such a rainy summer—and stories about the new school year which had just gotten started. As promised, there was no mention of police work and, thankfully, her mother had not showered Murphy with personal questions. When everyone had finally pushed their plates away, her father was the one to initiate the move from the table.
“You said you had something to discuss. Let’s go on back to the den.”
Kayla nodded and shoved her chair back. Murphy stood and started gathering plates, but her mother stopped her.
“I got this. Y’all go on back and get it over with. I picked up an apple pie at the bakery. We can have dessert later.”
“That meal was delicious, Bobbie. Thank you.”
“Yes, Mom. Very good.”
“Thank you, girls. Oh, and there’s enough left for me to send some home with you, Murphy.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
“That’s it. This is the last time I invite you to dinner,” she teased. “You’re stealing my leftovers.”
“You had three helpings,” her mother said. “I think that’s plenty.” She waved them away. “Now go with your father before he starts bellowing for you.”
“I like your mom,” Murphy said as they went in search of her father.
“Yeah, she’s nice.”
Her father was standing with his back to them, and he turned when they entered the den. He didn’t take the time for idle chitchat.
“So what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until morning at the station?”
“Found a few things at Foster’s office,” Murphy started. “First, he did have a late appointment. It was at five thirty.”
Her father shook his head. “Lou Ann told me he didn’t. Why do you think he did?”
“He kept a separate appointment book,” Murphy said. “Lou Ann would update their master calendar after the fact.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Dad, he didn’t always tell her when he was meeting with clients after five, but he was meticulous—her word—about keeping a record of things.”
“Mr. X.”
“Mr. X? What the hell? Are we in some kind of a spy movie?”
Murphy smiled. “Maybe.”
“He had a secret camera hidden behind one of the portraits on the wall,” she said. “The camera was missing, but Lou Ann knew where he kept the recordings. They’re all on memory cards.”
“There were two sets,” Murphy said. “One was of clients—buyers and sellers. The other, which he’d kept hidden in a secret drawer, was something else entirely.”
Kayla watched as her father twisted the corner of his mustache, an unconscious gesture on his part but one she knew well.
“Secret camera? Secret drawer? Secret meetings? Hell, Murphy, you make it sound like Lance Foster was a goddamn secret agent or something.”
“Dad, there was a false bottom in one of the file cabinets. Lou Ann found it by accident. But when she went to show it to us, the drawer was empty. Someone had taken the memory cards.”
“I don’t guess I understand what all the hoopla is about then.”
“Lou Ann remembered the names on some of the cards,” Murphy said.
“Uncle Ned was on several, she said.”
He stared at her. “Ned?”
She could tell by his voice that he wasn’t really surprised, even though he pretended to be. Murphy’s intuition was correct. Her father knew more than he let on. “What would Uncle Ned and Lance Foster need to meet about?”
He looked over at Murphy. “Whatever it was, I don’t think it has anything to do with this case, so it doesn’t need to be discussed in front of a stranger. This is a family matter.”
“The hell it is! This is a police matter, Dad. It’s no longer about good old boys having each other’s backs, even if one of them is your brother. Two men have been killed.”
He ran his hand over his hair several times but said nothing.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded. “You know what’s going on, don’t you?”
“I’ve got two men dead. Two men I’ve known my whole life. If I knew something, don’t you think I’d tell you?”
She wanted to think that he would, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure. “She listed off some names on the tapes besides Uncle
Ned. The mayor, Floyd Niemeyer and Guy Woodard. And this Mr. X. And there were others she couldn’t remember, others not from town.”
“Julio, she said,” Murphy added.
“You said these tapes were missing. How does this help?”
Kayla wondered if he really didn’t see the connection or if he was pretending to ignore the link. She assumed the latter.
“I think we need to question Floyd Niemeyer and your brother,” Murphy said.
“Question the mayor? Question Ned?” Her father shook his head sharply. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“Dad…there’s a reason these memory cards were kept separate and hidden from the others. Whether it was shady business dealings or whatever, Lance Foster felt the need for secrecy.”
“Shady business dealings?” Her father gave a humorless laugh. “Well, we are talking about Lance Foster. That’d be a given.”
“Murphy’s right. We need to question the mayor and Uncle Ned. We need to—”
“I’m the goddamn police chief,” he said loudly. “And you two take orders from me!”
“Then act like the goddamn police chief!” she shot back. “If you didn’t want competent officers working for you, you shouldn’t have hired Murphy. You shouldn’t have asked me to come back.” She walked over to him. “Something’s going on, Dad. If you don’t know what it is, then surely you suspect something. Two prominent members of our community have been shot and killed. And don’t say they’re not linked.”
He sighed. “I swear, you always did talk back to me. Should’ve washed your mouth out with soap when you were a kid.”
She smiled slightly. “The first time I cursed, Mom threatened to…’til I told her I learned it from you.”
He sat down heavily on the sofa. “Yeah, Ned’s mixed up in something. Only I don’t know what it is. But he’s been acting weird lately. Secretive. And we’ve been having a family barbeque on Memorial Day every year for as long as I can remember. He canceled on me this year.” He shook his head. “And he missed the goddamn Fourth of July picnic and softball tournament and even Charlotte didn’t know where he was.”
