That gave Cam a lot of food for thought, so she thanked Evangeline and decided while she was out this direction, she would brave checking in with Samantha, too. She could use a debriefing of the event as her excuse, since the fund-raiser had been Samantha’s baby.
• • •
• • •
Cam hadn’t been to Samantha’s house since the day she’d rescued her from the most bizarre situation she’d ever encountered. She felt sure she was having a PTSD episode when she knocked on the door, in spite of the gorgeous display of helenium lining the walk—their orange and yellow heads dancing in the breeze. Normally, without her impending visit playing on her nerves, Cam would have found them quite cheerful, since the sun was peeking through the clouds and the rain was finally evaporating. Thankfully, Samantha looked pleased to see her.
“Well, come in! Come in! You got that car you were saving for!”
“I did. The pageant this summer gave me the rest of my down payment so I could finally buy it.”
“It’s lovely—looks fast!”
Cam laughed. “Want a ride?”
“Oh, maybe sometime, but today is too miserable. You come in and have some lunch. Francine?”
The housekeeper poked her head out of the kitchen.
“Cam is joining me for lunch. Could you set an extra place?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Francine said.
Cam noticed nobody had waited for her answer, but it was okay. She had to eat. What she wasn’t looking forward to was the subject of murder. She’d accused Samantha of murder not long ago, so she thought admitting she was looking into another one was going to bring up a lot of old baggage for the two of them.
Samantha was the most connected person she knew, though, so if anyone could help her sort out the players, especially the financial ones, it was Samantha.
“This is the most awkward conversation,” Cam said. “But I think I should just dive in. I’m not sure how I’ll manage it otherwise.”
“Well, okay.”
“I’m trying really hard to help Annie find her dad, and I need some help figuring out the politics and finances of the people involved.”
“Now why would that be the most awkward conversation you’ve ever had?” Samantha asked, pouring sweet tea.
Cam couldn’t believe Samantha wasn’t leaping to conclusions about Cam as an investigator, but since she wasn’t, Cam wasn’t going to point it out. She felt like she’d just dodged a bullet.
“Who do you see who might want Alden Schulz out of the way?” Cam asked.
“Oh. Well, you know he has no shortage of enemies.”
Cam remembered this from an earlier investigation. Alden had been the hinge vote for a very important land bill that had angered much of the Roanoke Garden Society.
“But you and he were both supporting Jared Koontz, so surely some of the water has finally passed under the bridge?”
“Cam, I’m a practical woman. Alden still has a lot of popularity with the public, and I knew his endorsement would help Jared, whom I like quite well. I was willing to put old disagreements aside, and I think at least some of the people who felt angry before will have done the same.”
“So you think people who like and support Jared are unlikely to be involved in the senator’s disappearance, because he endorsed Jared.”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“And you think there were people there Sunday who don’t support Jared?”
“Oh, of course there were—spies trying to get a feel for his campaign and support system. Take that Vivian Macy, for instance. That woman was strictly scanning the competition.”
“She isn’t running against him,” Cam said.
“Oh, not yet.”
“No. My dad said she’s interested in the House of Delegates first.”
“Did he now?”
Cam wondered if she would regret her candor. It wasn’t like Vi had made a public announcement. But maybe it would get Samantha to stop focusing on someone who Cam felt sure wasn’t responsible.
“You know . . . if I had the guest list, I bet I could highlight about a quarter of the people who weren’t real supporters.”
“Would you? I have it on my laptop. Would you mind?”
“Not at all.”
Cam opened her laptop to the document and began reading through names, highlighting them brightly when Samantha indicated she was sure they didn’t really support Jared, and more often highlighting entries dimly when she said it was possible.
When they reached Griggs’s name, Cam was reminded of something. “You know, it was so generous of Mr. Windermere to pay for that media table.”
“Well, he didn’t do it directly—Chrysanthemum Holdings needed the deduction, I’m sure. And I have a bone to pick with them.”
“Chrysanthemum Holdings?”
“It’s an investment firm, real estate mostly, but they put a hold on their check that paid for that media table, if you can believe that!”
“Oh! Maybe it has to do with Mr. Windermere’s death.”
“It may, but they committed and used those spots, so I will get that money!”
Her ferocity startled Cam. She preferred to get back to what they’d been doing, as it seemed more productive. She pointed at the entry Samantha had stopped on. “Mike Sullivan?” Cam stared at the name.
“Oh, no, honey. That’s Derrick’s son-in-law. I don’t know his relationship to Jared, but his presence was about his family connection.”
It was probably nothing. Sullivan wasn’t such an unusual name. And the context she’d heard it in before didn’t seem to fit the son-in-law of somebody who was as wealthy and well connected as Derrick. The Sully she had heard about was tangled up with the senator’s wife . . . though if this Mike Sullivan was in fact helping Elle with a kidnapping because he knew he’d be at the event, that was another matter altogether.
“Do you know what he does? I just think I’ve heard the name before.”
“That would have to be another Mike Sullivan. This one is really a nobody. I know how hard it’s been for Derrick to have his daughter married to someone with such poor prospects.”
So poor he might run cons? Cam wondered. Like kidnapping.
Whom did she know who might be acquainted with the who’s who of Roanoke lowlifes?
The answer came to her unwillingly. She knew a couple of people, but she preferred not to entangle them in yet another project. And it was probably smart for her to just stay away from at least one of them. Dylan Markham was a tall handsome thug whom Cam seemed to be too drawn to for a girl with a longtime boyfriend. But he certainly knew a lot of unsavory people.
• • •
• • •
Cam was relieved at how well the visit had gone. What’s more, she remembered there was a time when she had enjoyed Samantha’s company. Cam drove back to her office to get the rest of her day’s tasks done. She’d generated a lot more questions than she’d answered, but at least they were questions that felt a lot more important than the ones she’d been stuck with before. She called Annie.
“Want to come over for dinner and I can share what I’ve gotten today?”
“No. I’m a better cook, so you can come to my place. Besides. I just put it in the oven.”
“You did?”
“Seafood enchiladas. New recipe.”
When Annie was stressed, she cooked, so Cam shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Can I bring anything?”
“Line of Chippendales dancers?”
“That bad, huh? I’ll see what I can do.”
CHAPTER 9
Annie’s apartment was a disaster. She’d clearly been cooking since she got home from work. Not just enchiladas, but homemade salsa, guacamole, and if Cam wasn’t mistaken, flan.
“Is it bad to love it when you’re stressed out?” Cam asked.
“Yes. Yes it is,” Annie said, then she stuck her finger in Cam’s mouth. It was coated in guacamole. “That okay?”
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“Could maybe use a little more heat,” Cam said.
“Little more heat? From you? That bland, eh?”
“No. It’s good. Maybe you’re just making progress with my taste buds.” Annie had always teased her about preferring bland food.
“We can only hope.”
Cam rolled her eyes, set the bottle of wine she’d brought on the counter, and got out the corkscrew. “Are the boys coming?”
“No. Mine’s not anyway. Haven’t talked to yours.”
Cam’s phone buzzed and she wondered if Rob’s ears had been burning, but it was Petunia.
“Cam! They found . . . it’s a . . . something matching!”
“Whoa, slow down, Petunia. Who found what?”
“The police! A DNA match. But it’s not a match. It’s . . . something related to the senator in our van!”
“I don’t get it. He was never . . . wait a minute. Oh, geez. Why didn’t we think of this? Petunia, calm down. It’s Annie. They found DNA from Annie in your van. We can go down and prove it and you’ll be in the clear.”
“Really?”
“Really. I promise we’ll take care of it tonight.”
“Thank goodness! Why do all these people you work with always cause us trouble?”
“I’m sorry, Tunia. Really I am. I’m sure that’s what it’s about, though.”
She hung up.
“Let me guess,” Annie said. “Partial DNA match for my dad in the Spoons van?”
“That’s what it sounds like. Petunia’s not the world’s most articulate person when she panics.”
“This can rest for half an hour after I pull it out. We’ll go then.”
Cam nodded and called Jake to give him a heads-up as to what they were doing and why.
“Those idiots. I told them they would probably get something like that,” he said. “Len Sullivan can be the densest detective on the planet sometimes.”
“Sullivan?”
“You know him?”
“No. I haven’t known a Sullivan since college, but suddenly they’re popping up everywhere.”
“Yeah, they’re like a bad penny—keep turning up to annoy you,” Jake said. “He’s the kidnapping pro, though, so we need him.”
They hung up and Cam looked at Annie.
“Are we having a Sullivan infestation?” she asked.
“We seem to be.” Cam told Annie about the overheard conversation the night before, and their interest in someone named Sully. “Maybe we just don’t normally notice them, but now, since we have a Sullivan to find, they’re going to appear all over the place.”
“Sounds like how it works,” Annie said. “You know, I can hear Elle in my head, a memory, shouting at someone called Sully, but for the life of me, I can’t remember when. I think there were a lot of people around.”
She took the pan out of the oven, and the two headed for the police station.
• • •
• • •
The man in the lab looked at Cam funny when she introduced herself and she wondered if this was Rob’s contact. He had Annie swish a giant cotton swab around the inside of her mouth and put it in a tube and then told them they were good.
“That should match what you found in the Spoons van—a full match, not a partial,” Cam said.
“And why were you in there?” he asked.
Cam rolled her eyes. “Spoons is owned by my sister and brother-in-law, and sometimes they are nice enough to lend us the van, which they did only recently.”
“Okay, don’t get your panties in a twist.”
Cam was glad it was Rob, and not her, who worked with this man. Annie put it in perspective as they left. She turned back toward him from a distance and found his head between her thumb and forefinger.
“Squish the head!” she said.
Cam laughed.
• • •
• • •
Back at Annie’s and well into dinner, Cam finally finished relaying her day to Annie.
“So that Windermere guy was a real piece of work,” Annie said.
“Sounds like it to me—sleazy. And good at stealing, if I’m piecing this together right. I mean, I know investments are risky, but this is too much. I’m thinking Melvin Entwhistle had the biggest motive,” Cam said, following it with a sip of wine.
“But that doesn’t tie to my dad at all; well, other than annoying him.”
“Might Melvin have sold your dad that investment?”
“I doubt it. Remember, Dad doesn’t like him.”
“So maybe he hired someone to take out Derrick, and your dad saw.”
“I wish I could see my dad’s phone records,” Annie said. “Your dad said he saw him on the phone. If we knew who he talked to, it might help. They might have even tempted him to a part of the grounds where he could be taken.”
“Wait. What if someone texted him and he thought it was part of the game? He’d go where he needed to for that.”
“They would have had to know the whole setup,” Annie said.
“Which is you, me, and who else?” Cam asked. “Joel Jaimeson?”
Annie actually snorted. “As much as I’d love it to be that incompetent fool, I can’t see a motive.”
“Fame? Glory? Feeling important?”
“Yeah, okay, maybe. But I don’t think he’s smart enough.”
“Or maybe he’s so much of an idiot he could be tricked out of his phone and a few game details. The kidnapper wouldn’t have to know much—just that we were texting instructions to the players,” Cam said.
“Oh! Now that seems likely!”
“I’ll call him tomorrow and see if he’ll let me see his phone.”
“Short of real progress, I guess that’s a plan,” Annie agreed.
There was silence for a moment, and Cam decided to let Annie hear an idea she really preferred debunked. “You know . . . Derrick was sponsoring Toni Howe’s television program.”
“Toni from the pageant?”
“Yeah. She didn’t seem very happy about it.”
“Can’t say I blame her.”
“You don’t think she’d . . .”
“Off him without securing another sponsor? Heck, no.”
Cam breathed easier. It was what she’d hoped to hear. “For my next two ideas, I need your help,” she said.
“Okay?”
“First, we thought maybe that message from Elle sounded like the guy was a little desperate to see her—not just like . . . for love, but desperate maybe for money, too. Like maybe there’s a gambling issue?” She still wasn’t comfortable sharing it, but putting the thoughts into words for Annie was safer than it would have been with Rob.
“Okay.”
“And we happen to know a couple of people in town who are involved in that gambling circuit.” Cam couldn’t believe she hadn’t talked herself out of pursuing this route.
“You’re afraid to talk to Dylan by yourself.”
“A little.”
“Probably wise. You can’t be trusted.”
Cam rolled her eyes, but it was only habit. She was a little worried that where Dylan was concerned, it might be true.
Cam opened her phone and felt guilty to still have him on speed dial from when she’d worked with him during the summer. It was good she had the number now, of course, but nothing about Dylan and her having contact was actually good. Except maybe the steamy kiss he’d given her when he’d been pumped up on pain pills, but she tried to think about that as little as possible.
“Miss Harris? I’m surprised to hear from you,” he answered the phone.
“I’m surprised to be calling,” she said. “But I’m involved in another investigation, and it turns out I could use your knowledge of the local gambling community.”
“And here I thought you missed me.”
She didn’t respond to that. Couldn’t respond. Everything about him made her blush, and Annie was watching her carefully.
“Do you know anything about someone called
Sully?”
“I might. What’s in it for me?”
“Look, Annie’s dad has been kidnapped, and this Sully character might be involved.”
“Annie’s? You coulda just said so. I like Annie. Yeah, listen. I don’t want to get into it here. I could stop by later and tell you, though.”
That was the last thing Cam wanted, but she could hear enough noise in the background to tell he was someplace he probably didn’t feel comfortable talking, so she agreed and then begged Annie not to leave her side until it was done.
“You’re a big chicken,” Annie said.
“I am not. I have no intention of . . . anything . . . I’m just attracted . . . I don’t want to be alone with him!”
Annie sighed. “Poor Cam.”
• • •
• • •
Dylan knocked just after ten. Cam was wondering where Rob was, as he usually called or dropped in. Annie had been grumbling about bakers having early hours and had just threatened to leave, so Cam was feeling lucky that Annie was still there and Rob wasn’t.
“Come in. Thank you.”
His look burned her face. Something about him had always made her feel like a middle school girl.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t say no to a beer.”
“Wine okay?”
He shrugged, so Cam got him a glass from the second bottle she and Annie had opened, but barely dented.
“So you know a Sully, in the gambling circle?” Cam said as she handed Dylan his wine. Dylan sprawled across her futon and seemed impossibly long. Arms went one way and legs another to take over the room. Annie was on her only other chair, so Cam retrieved her own wine and stood.
“Yeah. Odd guy, really. Well, not odd. Big teddy bear. But sometimes he acts like he’s rolling. Sometimes he’s broke. But the fat part—when he has a lot of cash—doesn’t seem to have anything to do with winning. I’ve never heard of him winning more than a few hands, but he loves to gamble. Always comes back.”
“Might that be because his wife is loaded, but doesn’t give him access all the time?” Cam asked.
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