Web of Silence: A Ray Schiller Novel (The Ray Schiller Series Book 4)

by Marjorie Doering

  “Good,” Gail said. “I’m glad you’re home. Your Dad will have supper on the table in a few minutes.”

  “Dad’s here?”

  Ray walked up, wrapped an arm around his daughter’s neck and kissed the top of her head. “I do live here, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Laurie said, “that’s right.”

  He shot a meaningful look at Gail. “Did the two of you work out this routine together?”

  “Out of the mouths of babes, Ray,” she said.

  He let Laurie out of the playful headlock. “If you’re going upstairs, would you ask Krista to help Joey wash up for supper?”

  Gail slipped into her jacket. “I’ll see you later, Ray.”

  “Okay. Say hello to Dan and Julie for me.”

  She kissed his cheek like a second cousin and fled out the door just as Krista and Joey hurried down the stairs.

  All smiles, Joey shouted, “Daddy!”

  “Hey, champ,” he said, picking him up. “How are you?”

  He clung to Ray’s neck. “I’m good, Daddy.”

  Krista asked, “Are you staying home for a while?”

  “What is this, a conspiracy?” He patted her head. “I’m not planning to go anywhere tonight.” Mentally, he crossed his fingers, hoping an unexpected phone call from the station wouldn’t change that.

  On his way to the kitchen, Ray mumbled, “An evening alone with the kids and Colonel Sanders. Not exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Me either,” he heard Laurie say from behind him. “Can I skip supper and go out for pizza with Savannah and Presley, Dad?”

  Ray squinted at her and set the bucket of chicken in the center of the table. “Don’t you have any friends with normal names like Diane or Lisa?”

  “Most of my friends’ parents were a lot more creative than you and Mom.”

  “Creative?” He set the container of coleslaw on the table. “Sorry we messed up, kiddo. Maybe we should’ve stuck with one of our first choices.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, your mom and I batted around a few interesting possibilities. She wanted to call you Olympia, but I kind of had my heart set on Octavia. We couldn’t agree, so we worked our way back down to the Ls again and settled on Laura.”

  She gave him the evil eye, trying to decide if he was serious. A split second later, Laurie said, “Yeah, right,” then flitted back to her original question. “How about it, Dad? Can I go?”

  “Not tonight, okay? I’d like to do some catching up. I’ve barely seen any of you lately.”

  A well-practiced pout settled on her thirteen-year-old face. “Well, that isn’t my fault.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said. “Tell you what… Grab a fork and a plate and we’ll sit down and discuss how unfair it is.”

  “Daaaaaaad.”

  Krista and Joey hurried into the kitchen.

  “Okay, everybody,” Ray said, setting Joey in his booster seat, “let the bonding begin.”

  Laurie grabbed a cold chicken drumstick. “Where’d Mom go?”

  “To the Monroes’.”

  Laurie held the drumstick up to her nose as though it smelled more ‘foul’ than fowl. “Are you sure? When Mrs. Stewart was giving me a ride home, the three of us saw Mrs. Monroe driving in the opposite direction of her house.”

  “Maybe it was someone else,” Ray suggested.

  “No, we recognized her.”

  “Mrs. Stewart, you, and who else—Alhambra?”

  Laurie rolled her eyes. “It’s Allegra, Dad. Her mother even waved to her, and Mrs. Monroe waved back.”

  Ray thought it over. “Maybe she had a last-minute errand to run or something. I guess your mom will just have to cool her heels and wait for Julie to get back.”

  Joey was tucked in bed for the night by the time Gail returned. The girls and Ray were on the couch, watching TV.

  “Hi,” she said, slipping out of her jacket. “I didn’t expect to be gone so long. Sorry about that.”

  “No big deal,” Ray said, “but I’m glad you’re home. Pull up a seat and join us.”

  “Is Joey asleep?”

  “Yeah. He ground to a slow stop about half an hour ago.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Did she keep you waiting long?”

  “What?”

  “Julie,” he said. “Did she keep you waiting long?”

  Gail’s lashes did a fast flutter as though she saw a fastball coming at her face. Without answering, she headed away, asking, “Does anyone want anything to drink?” No one took her up on her offer and she disappeared into the kitchen.

  Ray got up and wandered after her as Gail reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a wine cooler. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Well, for one thing, you didn’t answer my question, and for another, you don’t usually have a wine cooler unless you’re stressed out.”

  “It’s just been a very long day, all right? I’m tired… a little cranky, too, I guess.” Gail filled a glass and took a sip. “Oh, that’s really good,” she said. “As far as Julie’s concerned, she was waiting for me when I got there, so your question didn’t make sense.”

  “It’s no big deal,” Ray said. “I only asked because after you left, Laurie told me she saw Julie driving in the opposite direction of her house.”

  “Oh.” Gail turned away and took her time over a prolonged sip of Seagram’s Jamaican Me Happy wine cooler. “Well…” She lowered the glass slowly. “On the way there, I remembered Eddie Bauer’s was having a sale—the last day. I decided to make a quick stop to pick up a couple new sweaters, and Julie must’ve made it back home before I got there.”

  “Oh. I didn’t see you bring a package in.”

  “It’s in the SUV, okay? I forgot it. You’re home now, Ray. You can hang up your badge and stop playing detective, all right?” She kept her eyes locked on her glass.

  He felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle. “I’ll go bring it in for you.” Ray started toward the door.

  “No, don’t bother. I’ll get it in the morning, Ray.” Gail hooked her arm through his and pulled him into the living room. “Let’s join the girls before the movie’s over.”

  The mistrust he’d conquered in the four years since Gail’s brief affair threatened to resurface. With the birth of Joey, the product of that liaison, Ray’s commitment to his family turned what could have been an insurmountable obstacle between him and Gail into part of the fabric which held them together.

  Either he trusted Gail, or he didn’t. Ray gave himself a few seconds and made his choice.

  “All right, but you might be sorry. The movie’s a real stinker.”

  They sat down side by side as Krista scooted over to make room for them on the couch.

  “How’d the decorating go?” Ray asked.

  Gail took another sip of her wine cooler and pointed at the TV. “Shhh! The movie’s back on. I want to hear.”

  Ray felt the tension coursing through her body as he slung an arm around her shoulders.

  A wine cooler was starting to sound pretty good to him, too.

  18

  The next morning, at the sound of wolf whistles coming from other detectives in the department, Ray looked up from his pile of paperwork. He leaned back in his chair and did a double-take. “Holy…”

  Waverly was in a sharp, understated navy-blue plaid suit. It wasn’t the only new suit he’d ever worn to work, but it was probably the first that hadn’t come from a Big and Tall department. The trim fit of the new clothing accentuated his slimmed-down physique.

  “Hey, look at you,” Detective Burke hooted as Waverly walked past. “GQ at the MPD.”

  “Stick it, Burke.”

  “Hey,” Burke said, “no kidding, Waverly, you look good.”

  “Yeah, right,” he muttered. “Morning, Ray.”

  “Morning.” Hands laced across his stomach, Ray looked him over from head to foot. “Lookin’ good, Dick.”

 
“Don’t you start, too.”

  “I’m serious and I’m not just talking about the suit. How much weight have you dropped?”

  “No idea. What difference does it make?”

  “None, I suppose, but you’re damn near… slim.”

  “Don’t go making a big deal out of it, all right?”

  “Fine,” Ray said, “but you’re looking very Brook’s Brothers.”

  “Too rich for my blood. Got this at Men’s Wearhouse. They had one of those buy-one-get-one deals over at the Nicollet Mall.”

  Detective Lovelle Paige stopped and fingered the blue, silk pocket square in Waverly’s jacket. “You’re really stylin’ now, baby. Lookin’ good, my man.”

  “Yeah, Lovelle, sure. Just go about your business, will ya?” Paige moved on as Waverly yanked the handkerchief out of his suit jacket and stuffed it in a pants pocket.

  “You could use a lesson or two on how to take a compliment,” Ray said.

  “Never got many opportunities to practice,” Waverly grumbled. “Besides, if those guys wanna compliment me on something, I’d rather it be about something important like solving the Lundquist murder. They can’t bring the Dunn woman out of that coma fast enough for me.”

  It was a clear, if clumsy, attempt to change the subject. Ray obliged him. “If solving cases was easy, they’d stop paying us the big bucks.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Ray’s phone rang. “Schiller,” he said, picking up. “Are you serious?” He grabbed a pen and jotted something down on a legal pad. “Great!” he said seconds later. “We needed this. Thanks.”

  “Whatcha got?” Waverly asked as Ray hung up.

  “The ten bucks I gave Bobbi Gunderson for Lundquist’s wallet might turn out to be one of my better investments.”

  “Probably the cheapest anyway,” Waverly said. “The lab found usable prints?”

  “Yeah, inside one of the wallet inserts. Better yet, we got a match.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Does the name Blake Severson sound familiar?” Ray asked him.

  “Blake Severson.” Waverly let it rest on his tongue for a second. “No, I… Wait. Are we talking about ‘Blake the Snake’?”

  “That’s him. He was Sanchez’s snitch until Sanchez left the department last year.”

  “Yeah, I remember now,” Waverly said. “Let’s see if we’ve got his address on file.”

  Blake Severson’s information led Ray and Waverly to a shabby apartment building, short on charm, long on destitute residents. There was more grass growing out of the cracks in the parking lot than on the narrow strip of earth surrounding the building.

  On the way to the door, Waverly kicked one of several empty beer cans out of his path and stepped around a wet Rorschach-type splatter of saliva on the sidewalk. “Somebody’s been marking their territory,” he said. “Kinda makes you wanna open the door with a handkerchief, doesn’t it?”

  A young woman clutching a baby in one arm and toting a diaper bag in the other pushed the door open from the inside and edged past them.

  “Good morning,” Ray said, holding the door for her.

  Her only response was a sullen, drop dead glare.

  “Well,” he said to Waverly, “we’re in.”

  They entered the hallway and found their nostrils assaulted with an assortment of food scents from pork chops to chili so spicy a spill would probably burn a hole in whatever it landed on. Still, it helped cover up the underlying odor of stale beer, urine, and cigarettes.

  “Glad we don’t have to walk in too far.” Waverly pointed to the next door down. “That’s gotta be it—number five.”

  When Ray stepped up and knocked, the door swung inward. “Blake Severson?” he called. There was no answer. “Blake? Police. We want to talk to you.”

  Again, no response.

  He pushed the door farther open and took a cautious look inside. It was a typical efficiency apartment. With the exception of the bathroom, the entire place was visible at a single glance. At the back, off the kitchen, a separate wall indicated the location of the bathroom.

  “Severson?” Still nothing. Ray carefully stuck his head inside. “We’ve got fresh blood in here, Dick.” Ray drew his gun and went in.

  Waverly followed, both of them doing a visual sweep of the interior. No Severson or visible weapons, just droplets of blood on the tile floor, smudges on a counter and the apartment-sized fridge, still more on the doorjamb of the bathroom. The door was closed.

  Finger alongside the trigger, Ray held the gun in a ready position as he approached the bathroom. “Blake Severson?” he shouted. “Police.”

  From inside they heard, “What do ya want?”

  Ray breathed a little easier. “Come out of there with your hands where I can see them.”

  The muffled voice said, “Get the hell outta my apartment.”

  “Can’t do that,” Ray said. “Come out now, nice and slow.” He heard shuffling on the other side of the door. “Nice and easy, Blake. Hands in plain sight.”

  Waverly stood to the side of the door, covering Ray.

  The doorknob turned and a dark eye peered through the crack as the door crept open. “Chill out. I don’t have a gun or nothin’.”

  “Come out of there with your hands in front of you.”

  Snake opened the door and stepped out. A hank of dark hair covered half his battered face. He drew a forearm under his nose, leaving a bloody smear across it.

  With a name like Snake, Ray expected him to be tall and thin, but the twenty-something year old was shy of six feet tall. From the noticeable bulge at the crotch of his jeans, Ray made a guess at the origin of Severson’s nickname.

  Ray turned him around. “Hands against the wall. Spread your feet.”

  Looking over his shoulder as Ray checked him for weapons, the man did as he was told. “What are you doin’ in here? I didn’t invite you in.”

  “The goon who beat the snot outta you must’ve been born in a barn,” Waverly told him. “He left the door open. We saw blood.”

  “Is all of it yours?” Ray asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Care to tell us who mistook your face for a piñata?” Waverly asked.

  “I’m not telling you nothin’.”

  “Have it your way. If you wanna change your mind, let us know. You’ll have time to think it over,” Waverly said, cuffing him. “We’re placing you under arrest on suspicion of murder for the death of Lewis Lundquist and the attempted murder of Elena Dunn.”

  “Murder? Are you kiddin’ me?” He looked at them from the eye that hadn’t swollen shut. “I don’t even know who you’re talkin’ about.”

  “We’ll be sure to clear that up for you at the station,” Ray said. He shoved the hair on Severson’s face aside. “First, we’d better get that gash on your forehead taken care of.”

  Severson jerked his head away. “Forget it.” He tried to sniff up the blood coming from his right nostril. “My dad used to do worse than this to me when I was only eight.”

  “Sorry to hear that, but you’re going to the hospital all the same,” Waverly said, “right after we take a quick look around.”

  “For what?”

  “Weapons. Drugs,” Waverly told him, “credit cards with Lundquist and Dunn’s names on them. Jewelry. A watch. How about it? Wanna save us the trouble and tell us where they are?”

  “Go to hell.” Severson’s smirk opened the split in his lip still wider. “You’re not getting my permission for nothin’.”

  “Fine,” Ray said. “For now, we’ll just settle for checking out what’s been left in plain sight—discoverable evidence.” He led Severson to a food-stained barrel chair upholstered in a gaudy faux floral print straight out of the ‘70s. He checked around and under the cushion for weapons before letting Severson sit down and told him, “Okay, sit right there and don’t move.”

  Their hands-off search was thwarted by pizza cartons, beer bottles, and scattered piles of unlaunder
ed clothing. The place looked like a tornado had swept through a rummage sale. What lay beneath the clutter was anybody’s guess, but it would have to stay that way until a bona fide search warrant allowed officers to sift through the mess inch by inch.

  Ten minutes later, bent at the waist, Waverly checked out something tucked between a stack of assorted girly magazines. Disappointed with his findings, he straightened up and sighed. “Too much crap lying around, Ray. We’ll have to wait for the search warrant. Ready to go?”

  “Told you you wouldn’t find nothin’,” Severson gloated. “Satisfied now?”

  Waverly took him by the arm. “Get on your feet so we can get you fixed up before your brain seeps outta that gash in your head.”

  As he came from the other side of the room, Ray did a double-take. He slowed down and crouched beside a video game controller partially covered by a crumpled T-shirt, lying under a pair of jeans. It wasn’t the jeans, the T-shirt or the controller that caught his eye, but something lying just barely visible at the bottom of the heap.

  “Got something, buddy?”

  “Take a look.” Ray moved aside and let Waverly take his spot. “Under the controller,” he said. “See it sticking out?”

  “Yeah,” Waverly said a second later. “A shoe, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s blood in the treads.” He turned his head toward Severson. “You were right, Snake. We didn’t find nothing.”

  19

  “If you want to stay with Severson,” Ray told Dick at the hospital, “I’ll run up and see if there’s any news on Elena Dunn’s condition.”

  “Yeah, go ahead.” Waverly gripped their suspect’s arm a little tighter. “Looks like we’re gonna get to spend a little quality time together, Blake.”

  Severson tried to glare at Waverly, but couldn’t pull it off with only one working eye.

  “Detective,” a nurse said, “this way, please.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Ray said as Waverly led Severson away.

  When the elevator doors opened on Elena Dunn’s floor, Ray saw Dave Dunn on the other side, waiting to take the elevator down.

  “Mr. Dunn,” Ray said, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”