by Meg Benjamin
Nando scanned the folder tabs on the first file drawer, mostly travel vouchers and receipts. “Not much here. Nothing I’d want to steal anyway.”
“Damn straight,” the chief growled. “I don’t keep anything important here. I lock any case files in the evidence room, whatever I don’t keep on my computer, and I take my laptop home at night. The only thing left is the dock.” He nodded toward the computer dock at the side.
“Doesn’t look like he was interested in it.” Nando pulled out the next file drawer and found more of the same of the same, along with some antiquated computer disks and a stray thumb drive. “Could he be looking for something like this?” He held up the drive. “Maybe trying to find some computer files?”
The chief shrugged. “If he was, he doesn’t know much about police procedure around here. My files are backed up at the county. I don’t keep external copies. I don’t think anybody does anymore.”
“Could be something old, from back before the county started backing files up.”
Toleffson sighed. “Possibly. Seems like a stretch, but pull out those disks. Maybe they’re labeled.”
Nando stacked the disks on the table, then pulled out the final drawer and found office supplies: pads, pens, paperclips, scissors and a paper punch. “That’s it?”
Toleffson nodded. “Like I said, I don’t keep anything valuable in my office. The only thing that makes sense was that he was just looking around for anything he could find. Maybe he thought there’d be a computer here. Maybe he was looking for money. Maybe Ham was right for once and he thought he’d find drugs or guns in here.”
“But he took the time to case the joint,” Nando said slowly. “And he broke the window lock so he could get into this office. If it was just an impulse, wouldn’t he have opened the first unlocked window he found?”
The chief sighed. “Okay, let’s go through the desk and see if there’s something worth taking. Not that I keep anything in there either.”
A couple of hours later, the desk drawers and file drawers were stacked on the floor as Toleffson turned them around to check the sides and bottoms. Nando ran his fingers along the inside of the file cabinet, feeling slightly like an idiot, then did the same thing to the underside of the desktop. He crawled beneath the shell of the desk and ran his fingers over the inside surfaces, trying to see if anything had been taped there. All he found was dust and a couple of splinters. He backed out in time to see Toleffson toss the last drawer to the floor in frustration.
“Goddamn it,” he snapped. “If there’s anything in this freakin’ office, it sure as hell isn’t obvious. Or even hidden in places where you’d expect it to be.”
Nando leaned back against the wall, staring at the contents of the desk drawers and the file cabinet that were piled on the table. There was nothing in the pile that he didn’t keep in his own desk, as well as every other desk he’d ever seen. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why anybody would go to the risk of breaking into a police station just to grab stuff he could have found at any office supply store. He shook his head, sighing. “Why did he hit her?”
Toleffson squinted at him. “She found him in the office. He was trying to get away.”
“He could have just gone back through the window and run down the street the way he did when I found him at Margaret Hastings’ place. Why hit Helen? Why take it from burglary to assault?”
The chief paused, thinking. “Maybe he lost it. He didn’t expect there to be anybody else here besides him. Maybe she startled him.”
“But he used a bookend from the bookcase. If he was startled, wouldn’t he grab the first thing that came to hand on the desk?”
Toleffson’s expression darkened. “Her baton was next to her. It was the only weapon she had with her since she hadn’t gotten her service revolver yet. Maybe he thought she was threatening him.”
“Knowing Helen, she probably was.” Nando grimaced. Only Helen would consider holding off a perp with a baton. But under normal circumstances, she probably could have done it. “She must have been distracted. I mean, normally I’d take odds on Helen in just about any fight. She’s one tough broad.”
Toleffson stared at him for a long moment, then blew out a breath. “She knew him.”
As soon as he heard it, Nando knew he was right. “Which is why he had to hit her.”
“And why he got the drop on her in the first place. She must have heard someone in the office and grabbed her baton. But she was surprised to see him—that particular guy. Which gave him a chance to grab the bookend and hit her.”
Toleffson’s jaw was set, one large hand resting on the side of the desk. Nando had a feeling the perp would be very sorry he’d hit Helen Kretschmer once Toleffson got hold of him.
“But that doesn’t help us much,” he said slowly. “I mean, like you said, Helen knows everybody in town.”
The chief shrugged. “It means the guy isn’t a stranger, that he’s somebody from around here. But I agree—that just limits it to a few hundred citizens of Konigsburg.”
Nando checked his watch. “I better go relieve Delaney at the hospital so he can go home before he’s on patrol. I don’t guess the perp’s going to try anything else tonight, but who knows? He hasn’t exactly followed the rules up to now either.”
Toleffson nodded grimly. “Go on. I’ll stay here a while longer. Maybe something will turn up.”
“Maybe,” Nando agreed. But he didn’t figure they should count on it.
Brody sat in the broken-down recliner that was part of the furnishings in his room and tried to think. His anger made it difficult to think clearly, and clear thinking was essential at the moment. He stared down at the shot glass full of tequila in his left hand. Getting drunk right now would be very dangerous, but alcohol helped to deaden the burning fury in his gut.
What the hell had Kretschmer been doing there anyway? Nobody was supposed to have been around. He’d kept careful watch throughout the evening, keeping track of the cruisers, when they came and went. He figured they’d stepped up the patrols after the near miss the previous week. Probably using some kind of call forwarding system to route the incoming calls. The damn place was supposed to have been empty. He’d seen the last cop take off at eleven. And still he’d waited another ten minutes before breaking the flimsy window lock and climbing in.
Yet Kretschmer was there. Where she absolutely shouldn’t have been.
It was her own fault. He knew that. But it still rankled. He’d been so close, and then she’d come bursting through the door, pretending to be a cop. Well, she’d found out the price of pretending. With any luck she wouldn’t wake up until he was gone. Hell, with any luck, she wouldn’t wake up at all.
He weighed his options again. He could cut his losses and get out now. All he would have given up would be time spent in a job he despised. He’d still have his freedom. It was a risk to stay around. Kretschmer could still wake up, and if she did, she might remember what she’d seen. They wouldn’t find him immediately, even then. But they’d know who to look for.
But if he left now, he wouldn’t have much to show for the weeks he’d spent in Konigsburg. His future would still be as dim as it had first seemed when he’d decided to come back.
He hadn’t found what he was looking for, but he hadn’t seen anything to show him that anybody else had found it either. And as long as it was there, he’d have a chance for better times. Much better times.
He’d fought for that chance. He deserved that chance. He was going to get that chance.
He tossed back the contents of his shot glass and went to bed.
Chapter Twenty
Helen’s hospital room was so small Nando felt like he was in danger of kicking over her water pitcher every time he moved his feet. It was his second tour of duty as her bodyguard and he still wasn’t used to the room.
He’d expected Helen to look shrunken and vulnerable, like his grandmother had when she’d gone to the hospital the last time. But Helen mainly rem
inded him of one of those effigies on the top of warriors’ tombs. Give her a broadsword and she’d be set to take out an enemy battalion single-handed as soon as she woke up.
He tried to settle himself into the singularly uncomfortable visitor’s chair. No wonder Delaney had looked so miserable when he’d relieved him first thing this morning. The kid had been sitting in the chair for a large part of his night shift, after Toleffson had sent him over. He’d probably lost all feeling in his butt by the time Nando got there.
Nando had smuggled in a cup of Deirdre’s coffee and a blueberry muffin that he’d grabbed in the middle of the breakfast rush. It was still early, and he needed that shot of caffeine. He wasn’t going to take the chance that Helen might wake up and find him drowsing.
Not that there was much possibility he could sleep in that chair. Maybe that was the point—use the chair torture device to keep visitors from staying too long and exhausting the patient. He slumped down far enough to rest on his shoulders, then opened his paperback, setting his coffee cup on the bedside table. Maybe Kathy Reichs could keep him entertained until Toleffson showed up at noon to relieve him.
An hour later he’d finished the coffee and was still fighting off yawns. The dull hum of the monitors that were attached to Helen seemed to have a drugging effect, in spite of the fact that his ass was bristling with pins and needles. He wondered if he could switch on the television set, or if that was off-limits for unconscious patients. On the other hand, it wasn’t like Helen needed more sleep. Maybe the noise would help to wake her up.
He rummaged around the bedside table, trying to find the remote without knocking over his coffee cup. “Goddamn it,” he muttered. “Don’t tell me there’s no remote.”
“On the TV,” someone said.
Nando froze, staring down at the cool gray eyes that gazed back at him from the bed. He swallowed. “Hi Helen. How do you feel?”
Helen turned her head slightly so he could see her better. He wasn’t sure she was fully awake yet—those eyes seemed a little unfocused. “Thirsty,” she muttered finally.
“I’ll call somebody.” He grabbed the call device and jabbed at the button for the nurse down the hall. Then he remembered suddenly what he was supposed to ask when Helen woke up. “Who was it who did this to you, Helen? Do you remember?”
She pursed her lips, squinting slightly as if she were confused by the memory. Nando thought about telling her to forget it, they’d talk later. But they really needed to know, and they needed to know now.
Finally, she muttered something he couldn’t hear. Nando leaned closer. “Say it again please.”
“Brody,” she croaked. “It was Chief Brody.”
Kit surveyed the dining room, fighting down panic. They still had a few minutes before the lunch crowd showed up. Maybe something would happen, hopefully something good as opposed to the current disaster.
Joe pushed open the kitchen door to lean into the dining room. “You want any lunch, or you want me to save you some for after the rush?”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
He let the kitchen door swing closed as he walked toward her. “What’s up, darlin’? You don’t look like life’s treating you right.”
“Philip’s missing.” Her hands clenched into fists. “He hasn’t come to work, and he hasn’t called. I’ve been trying to reach him, but he hasn’t been answering his phone. I don’t have time to go check on him now. That leaves me and Elaine, assuming I can get Mabel to come run the hostess station.”
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Mabel’s the worst hostess in the history of hostessing.”
“What do you suggest?” Kit snapped. “Should I just let Elaine take care of all the tables, even though that would probably make her quit by the end of her shift?”
“Take it easy, darlin’.” Joe put a hand on her arm. “I’ll send one of the line cooks to check on ol’ Phil—he doesn’t live that far from here. You get Mabel to the hostess stand, and we’ll cope. Hell, Darcy could probably run the hostess station if it comes to that. I could juggle things around in the kitchen so we could get by without her.”
Kit tried to picture Darcy, whose highlights were currently magenta and whose more visible piercings probably set off every airport security device known to man, running the hostess station at the ever-elegant Rose. “I’ll go get Mabel,” she said quickly.
Mabel glanced up from her computer as soon as Kit trotted into her office. “Did you reserve one of the party rooms, dear? I saw the name Maldonado but no first initial.”
Kit nodded hurriedly. “It’s for my aunt’s rehearsal dinner. I’ve already cleared it with Joe.”
Mabel grimaced. “Joseph really doesn’t have anything to do with reserving rooms. Next time talk to me first, please. That’s one of our bigger rooms. I like to keep it available in case we have any last minute requests.”
Kit thought of all the arguments she could make—that no one else had reserved it and that it stood empty more often than any of the other rooms, but decided to let it go. “All right, I’ll remember that in the future. We’ve got a bit of a crisis at the moment, though.”
“A crisis with the meeting rooms?” Mabel’s brow furrowed. “I should be the first one to hear about that. I’m in charge of scheduling, you know. If I don’t hear about things, I can’t make sure everything is functioning the way it’s supposed to.”
Kit fought the impulse to close her eyes and count to ten. “No, not about the meeting rooms. We’re missing one of our waiters and lunch service will start in fifteen minutes. I can take over the waiter’s station, but we’ll need you to run the hostess stand.”
Mabel’s brow stayed pleated. “Oh dear. I don’t know if I can take the time to do that. I’m really, really busy today…”
“Yes, well, the lunch service only lasts a couple of hours. And it’s our biggest moneymaker. We really can’t do without a waiter or a hostess.” Kit balled her hands into fists to keep from drumming them on Mabel’s desk. What on earth was wrong with the woman?
“Kit, dear, I’m sorry, but if this is another one of those ploys to get me to hire more wait staff…” Mabel began.
Kit grimaced. “It’s not a ploy, Mabel. It’s a fact. One of the waiters didn’t show up, and the one who’s there can’t possibly take care of the whole restaurant. And of course we can’t run the dining room without staff. We do, in fact, need more wait staff. Desperately. But that’s a conversation for another time.”
Mabel shook her head sorrowfully. “Oh my. If we go on having these kinds of problems, we may have to consider cutting back on meal service. Perhaps even closing the restaurant altogether. We can’t have part of the inn siphoning off money and personnel from all our other activities.”
Kit blinked. “Close the restaurant? What do you mean? We’re pulling in so many customers we have waiting lists on reservations. We’ve been written up in newspapers all over the state. We’re making a profit, even though we’re only open for lunch. How could you consider closing it down?”
“Oh it may not come to that.” Mabel patted her arm. “We can probably find some ways to take care of the money problems. I’m not at all sure we need to be open six days a week, for example. Although, of course, you’re doing excellent work there.” Mabel gave her another quick pat.
Kit took a deep breath. She’d get all of this sorted out later. “Mabel, could we discuss this another time? I really do need your help right now.”
Mabel sighed. “Oh well, if I must. Let me close down my computer. I’ll meet you at the hostess stand.”
Lunch wasn’t exactly a nightmare, just close. By the end of her shift, Elaine was verging on hysteria. Only the amount of money she’d collected in tips seemed to make up from the abuse she’d gotten from some of the customers. Mabel had to be reminded repeatedly about sending guests equally to both stations, a concept she apparently found too confusing to bother with.
Kit herself was trying to ignore her aching feet. As she hurried to
get her orders in and to keep Gabriel moving, she avoided thinking about what Mabel had said. The Rose was wildly popular. It was becoming one of the premier restaurants in Konigsburg, thanks to the combined efforts of Joe’s superb kitchen and her own blossoming management skills. Surely Resorts Consolidated wouldn’t consider closing it down, no matter how expensive it was to run.
Of course, if the inn itself wasn’t doing well, they might decide to retrench. She wondered what Joe’s salary was, then decided not to worry about it. No luxury hotel chain would want to lose a famous chef if they could help it.
At one thirty, she took over the hostess station again, sending Mabel back to her office. She checked the reservations for the next day while she massaged her toes. She was pretty sure she was developing a couple of world-class blisters. She hadn’t come to work dressed for waiting tables.
Joe sauntered through the restaurant, nodding at customers he recognized. “Here,” he said, pushing a plate in front of her.
Kit sighed and picked up the cheeseburger. “Thanks. I realized how hungry I was after the adrenaline wore off.”
“I sent Jorge over to Philip’s place in Johnson City, but he wasn’t there. Jorge didn’t see his bike either.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Bike?”
“He rides an old Kawasaki. Usually has it locked up in the garage out back when he’s working. Jorge said he pounded on the door at his apartment, but nobody answered.”
Kit sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Great. Sounds like he may have taken off without giving notice. I’ll check with his landlord if I can find him.”
“So tell Mabel she needs to hire new waiters ASAP. Hell, if she doesn’t know that by now, she hasn’t been listening.”
Kit paused, trying to decide whether she should tell him about Mabel’s threats concerning the Rose. If she did, he’d probably head for Mabel’s office now, which would probably produce one godawful fight. And they’d need Mabel to run the hostess stand tomorrow unless Phillip had a miraculous change of heart. “I’ll tell her,” she said finally. “Later.”
