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

by Marjorie Doering

  “I’ll put the word out to look for the pendant and earrings while they’re trying to locate the Rolex.” Ray stood with his hands on his hips. “You know, if there was a purse and it was the only thing taken before Severson showed up,” he continued, “that could put a new slant on things. The shooter could’ve been after something she had in her handbag.”

  “It wouldn’t have been cash,” Waverly said, “or Lundquist’s wallet would’ve already been gone, too. You know, Ray, if Elena Dunn was drunk enough to leave her kid in a theater, she’d have been drunk enough to leave her purse in her car.”

  Ray nodded. “You’re right. We need to find her vehicle. It must be somewhere in the area if she drove downtown to meet Lundquist. If her purse is in there, we can probably chalk it up to carelessness, or drunkenness, or whatever… not part of some obscure motive. Her cell phone might be in there, too… maybe even an address book or something. Yeah, we need to locate that vehicle.”

  21

  Ray strode up to Waverly twenty minutes later. “Got it—Elena Dunn’s car. It has a GPS tracking system. It’s been traced to the impound lot.”

  “What’s it doing there?”

  Ray snugged the knot in his tie back in place and pulled his jacket on. “We can find out when we get there. Let’s go.”

  “Give me a minute. It’s not like the car’s going anywhere. I need to make a call first.”

  “Okay, but don’t take all day, all right?” Ray pointed to the phone on Waverly’s desk. “Go ahead, make your call.”

  “It’s private, Ray.” Waverly pulled his cell phone out. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Ray watched as, in search of a secluded spot, Waverly started in one direction, then apparently thought better of it and stepped into the hallway off the men’s room. The changes in Waverly’s overall demeanor… the moodiness, the secretive side he’d never shown before had long since raised Ray’s initial curiosity to concern. The phone call had just ratcheted Ray’s uneasiness up another notch.

  Giving Waverly his space had become too hard to handle. After the better part of a minute, a chunk of Ray’s resolve crumbled and fell away. He walked to a bank of metal file cabinets on the opposite side of the hallway wall. Opening a file drawer, he aimlessly thumbed through the folders as he tuned in to the familiar baritone voice coming faintly from around the corner.

  “I wish I could,” he heard Waverly say. “You know how it goes, though. I could be done in an hour or it could take two or three. Maybe more. Let’s just stick to our original plan. I know. I’ll do my best. I can’t wait to see you again either. I love you, too.”

  Guilt and apprehension ran neck and neck as Ray hurried farther away before Waverly caught him lurking within hearing range. Ray hated what he was thinking, but couldn’t explain it away. Damn it, Dick.

  “There you are,” Ray said as Waverly came around the corner. “Did you get your business taken care of?”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  The ride to the impound lot was quiet: Fourth Street to Hennepin Avenue, to Seventh Street, to Twins Way to Glenwood Avenue. Until the final turn onto North Colfax Avenue, neither of them spoke.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Waverly said at last. “What’s up? Tired?”

  Ray kept his eyes forward. “No more than usual.”

  “Well, when we’re done with this little side trip, unless something turns up that can’t wait, I’d like to call it quits for the day. I’m beat.”

  Sure you are, Ray thought. His reply came out clipped. “Fine.”

  His suspicions were lying on his chest like a five-ton weight. He kept replaying Waverly’s end of the phone conversation, trying to turn it into something totally innocent. I can’t wait to see you again either. I love you, too. Failing once more, he gripped the wheel a little tighter.

  “I was just thinking, Dick… One of these days, you, Phyllis and Gail and I should get together for dinner, or to play cards or something. It’s been a long time since the four of us did that.”

  Waverly looked away. “Yeah, one of these days.”

  “Name the date,” Ray said. “I’ll clear it with Gail and we can make plans.”

  There was an awkward five-second pause. “Let me get back to you on that.”

  Waverly’s response felt more like a brushoff than a deferral.

  Ray parked in the impound lot and they went into the building where a disgruntled man sat cursing under his breath as he filled out the paperwork needed to retrieve his car.

  At the counter, Waverly tapped on the glass and held up his shield. “I’m here about a blue Chevy Impala. Here are the plate and vin numbers,” he said, sliding a paper to the employee on the other side. “Why was the car towed?”

  The woman finger combed a hank of unruly hair back in place. “The tow truck driver said your car was found parked diagonally in a parallel parking spot. You don’t remember?”

  “The car’s not mine,” Waverly informed her.

  “Oh, I just assumed—”

  “Where was it parked?” Ray asked.

  “Hang on a second.” She looked up the records and read the information to them in dribs and drabs. “It came in on… Saturday… 2:10 AM.” Her eyes scanned the paper. “Like I said, it was towed for a parking violation.”

  “Towed from where?”

  She ran her finger down the paper. “Hennepin Avenue—the six hundred block.”

  Waverly turned to Ray. “Same as the theater. Leaving the car parked cockeyed like that makes the case all the stronger that she must’ve been drunk, buddy.”

  The woman snickered. “Drunk or high would be my guess, because whoever the driver was, they even left the keys in the ignition. I’ve got them back here,” she told them.

  “What else was inside the car?” Ray asked.

  She checked the form again. “A child’s car seat and a small blanket.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s all.”

  “No purse? No coat or anything like that?”

  “That’s all it says here.”

  “Was there any damage to the car?”

  “None noted.”

  As they walked out of the impound office, a brisk breeze greeted them. Waverly stopped and pulled the collar of his jacket a little higher. “So, no purse,” he said, looking toward row upon row of impounded cars. “What do you think, buddy?”

  Ray shook his head. “I don’t know. Her blood alcohol level from that night is off limits with the privacy laws being what they are, so we can’t say, with a hundred percent certainty, that she was drunk.”

  “So, what do you want to do now—keep walking around, scratching our heads or asses some more?”

  “Scratch whatever you want,” Ray said. “When we get back to the station, I’m calling Dave Dunn to let him know about the car. If he wants to get it out of there now, he can save his ex a lot of money.”

  “That’s mighty nice of you.”

  “Not entirely,” Ray said. “I want to see if he lets her sink or swim.”

  Waverly snickered. “Yeah, hero or heel. If Dunn bails the car out of impound, he’s one, if not, he’s the other.”

  “One problem,” Ray said. “If he does it only to make her feel obligated, he’s a heel either way.”

  “Sure, but unless you’re clairvoyant or something, you can’t know what his motivation is, what will you have accomplished?”

  “If nothing else,” Ray said, “when she comes to, getting the car out of impound could be one less thing Elena Dunn has to worry about.”

  As they pulled into the parking lot behind the station, Waverly’s cell sounded off. “Hello? Great. Soon. Yeah, me, too.” He hung up without another word.

  “Talking in code now?” Ray asked.

  “Why use a lot of words when a few will do?” He unbuckled and got out. “I’m checking out for the day, Ray.”

  “Right after I talk to Dave Dunn, I will be, too.”

  They entered the station together
.

  “See you tomorrow, buddy.”

  “Yeah.” Considering what Waverly might be intending to do with his evening, Ray couldn’t bring himself to wish Waverly a good night. It pained him to think what an affair would do to Phyllis.

  Trying to put it out of his mind, he went to his desk and called Dunn Motors.

  The female on the other end sounded young. “Good afternoon. Dunn Motors. How may I help you?”

  “My name is Detective Schiller. I’d like to speak to Mr. Dunn if he’s available.”

  Dunn answered a moment later. “Detective Schiller, what can I do for you?”

  “I’m calling about something you can do for your ex-wife… if you’re interested.”

  “What is it?”

  “We’ve located her car at the impound lot on Colfax.”

  “What’s it doing there?”

  “At the moment, it’s racking up storage charges,” Ray told him. “It was towed for a parking violation.”

  “All right. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll take care of it.”

  Ray stopped him. “Wait a minute. You’ll be able to get the keys at the impound office. They were left in the car.” He waited for Dunn’s reaction.

  “Ellie left them inside?”

  “I suggested to you once before that she may have been drunk.”

  “Yes, I know,” Dunn said. “Ellie isn’t a teetotaler, Detective Schiller, but I’ve never seen her actually drunk.”

  “Then maybe this was a first. It could explain the keys being left in the car… your son being left alone in that theater.” Anxious to get home, Ray tried to avoid a debate neither of them was likely to win. “Any update on when they plan to bring her out of the coma?”

  “She’s improving, but they’re not painting themselves into a corner with a specific day.”

  “Have you been able to get your son to talk about that night?”

  “It seems to frighten him, so I’ve stopped asking about it.”

  “All right. I just wanted to let you know where the car is. Do what you want about it.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Thanks.”

  Before Dunn could hang up, Ray stopped him one more time. “Wait a second. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Is there some reason your son dislikes being called Nate?” A lengthy pause on Dunn’s end prompted Ray to elaborate. “I ask because, at the station, each time my partner called him by his nickname, it seemed to trigger a negative reaction.”

  Dunn answered with a protracted, “Noooo, I don’t think so, but Georgia’s the only one who ever called him that. He’s never seemed to mind.”

  “Georgia Schwartz, Ellie’s friend?”

  “Right. I guess I don’t have an explanation. It must’ve been a coincidence or something.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Ray hung up.

  His need to meet Elena Dunn’s ‘phantom’ friend just reached a higher rung on his ‘to-do’ list.

  Tomorrow.

  Tonight he was headed home. He intended to give Gail a heartfelt hug she’d remember for a week.

  22

  The aroma of a home-cooked meal greeted Ray as he came through the front door.

  “Gail, I’m home.”

  Laurie answered, “Mom’s not here, Dad.”

  “I smell dinner cooking. Where is she?”

  “There was a note saying she and Joey would be back soon. Supper’s in the crockpot. Chuck roast, I think.” She made a face that implied she’d have preferred anything but that.

  “And Krista?”

  “She’s at Kiley’s.”

  “All right. I’m going to get out of this suit and I’ll be right back.” He kissed the top of her head before heading upstairs. A minute later, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a blue V-neck sweater. From the bedroom window, he saw Gail and Joey coming hand-in-hand out of the Spencers’ house across the street.

  He came down the stairs as they walked through the front door. “Hey, babe. Hi, Joey. Visiting the Spencers? I saw you leaving their place from upstairs.” He grabbed Joey around the middle and hoisted the giggling three year old up for a noisy kiss.

  Ray set him down and went to kiss Gail as she turned away and slipped out of her jacket. He settled for asking, “What’s new with Marian and Robert?”

  “Not much,” she said, hanging her jacket in the guest closet.

  Joey tugged on a leg of Ray’s jeans. “Mommy went bye-bye, Daddy,” he said. “I played with Jinx.”

  Ray cocked his head, much like their neighbors’ Springer Spaniel was wont to do.

  Gail hurried to the kitchen. “I had a couple errands to run so I asked Marian if she’d watch Joey for a while. She was glad to do it.”

  “They’re a nice old couple. So, did you get your errands done?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Changing subjects on a dime, Gail lifted the lid of the crockpot and poked the pot roast with a fork. “It’s a little early, but it looks like supper’s ready. Would you set out the plates and utensils while I take care of the food, hon?”

  “First this.” As she stood facing the counter, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. He held her tight and whispered, “You have any idea how much I love you, Gail Arabella McKenzie Schiller?”

  “Ray, I love you, too, but would you get the table ready, please?” Gail wriggled, but he held fast. “Arabella…” she said, shaking her head. “My folks must’ve experienced temporary insanity.”

  It wasn’t the magical moment he’d been going for, but he held Gail a second longer and gave her earlobe a playful love bite. “If you want me to stop using Arabella, maybe I’ll just start calling you McSchiller.” He laughed as she elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Ray, just set the table.”

  “Jawohl, mein commandant.”

  Over dinner the small talk was smaller than usual. While the kids bolted in separate directions from the dinner table, Ray slipped into the garage—time to make good on his promise to check the noises coming from the engine of Gail’s SUV.

  He got inside the Traverse and turned the key. Not on the first try but the second, the engine kicked over accompanied by a high-pitched squealing noise.

  That’s not good.

  Ray turned the engine off and went to the workbench. He grabbed a flashlight, popped the hood, and located the timing belt. The beam of light exposed spots of oil on its surface. He ran his fingers along the ridges on the underside and detected a couple of missing ‘teeth.’ Definitely not good.

  Ray put the flashlight back, wiped his hands on a shop rag and leaned inside the vehicle to remove the key when something behind the passenger’s seat caught his eye. Thinking Gail had, once again, forgotten to bring her new sweaters inside, he started to reach for the shopping bag, but stopped when he saw the Men’s Wearhouse logo.

  That’s what she’s been up to. She was shopping for my anniversary gift.

  A month or two earlier, he’d mentioned a bomber jacket that had caught his eye there. It surprised him to think Gail would have remembered that. Though tempted to look inside the bag, Ray drew his hand away, unwilling to spoil her fun. Chuckling to himself, he decided that between Waverly’s new suits and the bomber jacket, Men’s Wearhouse was having a pretty good week.

  Gail hurried into the garage as Ray closed the driver’s door.

  “I thought I heard the car.” Her casual tone couldn’t disguise her anxiety. “What are you doing out here, Ray?”

  “Checking those noises you’ve been telling me about.” He tried not to smile. “Why— what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said, doing her best to draw him away. “You can check the engine some other time. Let’s go inside.”

  He was enjoying tormenting her. “What’s your hurry?”

  “It’s chilly out, honey. C’mon, Let’s hang out inside.” Her eyes widened as he stopped and leaned against the SUV, inches from the package.

  “I found out what’s wrong,” he said, drawing out the harmless torture. “With the
car, I mean. Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  “Sure, but tell me about it in the house. I’m getting cold.”

  Ray decided she’d had enough. He opened the connecting kitchen door for her. “The problem is your timing belt, hon.”

  “Is that serious?”

  “It can be.”

  “Have I been driving around on borrowed time?”

  “Not you personally,” he said as they walked into the kitchen. “The real danger is to our bank account. If the engine’s running when that belt breaks, we’re talking serious engine damage. Mega bucks. I can replace the belt myself, but you’d better not drive the Traverse until I can get at it.”

  “Ray, I can’t wait that long.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll pick up a new belt tomorrow.”

  She stopped at the sink for a glass of water. “But how long will it take before you actually install it?” Gail smiled and patted his cheek. “Hon, I could wind up thumbing rides for a month before you find the time to do it. What’s it likely to cost if I take it in to have it done?”

  “Rough estimate—probably between two and three hundred dollars. You’re the bookkeeper, babe. It’s up to you.”

  “I hate to spend the money, but I think I’d better, hon.” She led the way into the living room. “I’ll see how soon Modern Auto Care can do it. I can use their shuttle service.” She took her spot on the couch, leaving room for Ray beside her. “The belt ought to last the two miles it’ll take for me to get it there, right?”

  “I sure hope so.” Grinning, he wrapped an arm snuggly around her. “You know, you really should’ve mentioned the problem to me sooner.” He held on tight as Gail struggled to free her arms and laughed. “No hitting!”

  An hour later Ray’s cell phone rang.

  Gail groaned and lifted her head off his shoulder. “Might’ve known.”

  “Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Not tonight.” The screen confirmed it was Dispatch. He cringed and hit TALK. “Schiller,” he said. “Dave Dunn? What did he want? That’s all he said? Yeah, I have his number, but it’ll have to wait. I’ll call him back in the morning. Yeah, thanks.”