Nearing room 5, Kate noticed yellow, crime-scene tape spanning the door. The two narrow bands barred across the upper and lower width of the door, but she was able to duck between the two, as she opened the door and quietly stepped inside.
Slowly, she walked deeper into the room. What would Tommy be doing in here? Why would he need to come to the inn to work instead of working from home or at each business, as she presumed he would’ve been in the habit of doing?
Tommy had been found dead on the floor right next to the desk, which told her he had been sitting in it when the killer snuck up behind him and struck the back of his head with the wrought-iron bookend that happened to be in the shape of a mallard.
Examining the desk, Kate scanned every nook and cranny, before pulling out the drawers, all of which were empty. The room itself was clean, neat, and organized for what little items it had, though she double-checked, walking the perimeter and searching for hiding places and trapdoors, loose floor boards, anything that could conceal Tommy’s secret. Not that his secret would necessarily include an item, but her gut told her it did. Why else would he come here, to the inn, of all places?
There was nothing. Defeated, she sighed, returned to the desk, and sat on the chair, looking out the window. Outside, the lush scenery looked picturesque, but she was jarred from the general sight of it, when she realized there was a shed where the edge of the lawn met with a sparse line of trees. At that very moment, Chucky lumbered towards the shed, glanced over his shoulder conspicuously, and disappeared inside.
Rising out of the chair, Kate watched the shed. Of course it was reasonable that the groundskeeper would often go in and out of the shed, but there was something about Chucky that struck her as off.
A few minutes passed and Chucky emerged, sneezing and sniffling. He rubbed his nose and suddenly his eyes turned wild, as he grew more and more jittery.
That was it!
Tommy didn’t want or need to be in this room for any other reason than to keep an eye on the shed, and Kate knew exactly why.
She hurried down the stairs and slowed only to peer around the corner at the receptionist’s desk. If the receptionist had returned, she might have some explaining to do, but the area was just as vacant as it had been when she snuck in.
Quickly, she passed through the door and started across the yard. Chucky had turned to his wheelbarrow at the fountain, so she threw the shed door open and slipped inside.
It was dark, but strips of daylight shone through the cracks between the wooden sidings. After a minute, her eyes adjusted and she could see.
Edging gradually deeper inside, she noticed a wealth of gardening tools, bags of fertilizer, and some odds and ends she couldn’t identify, except that they looked like old car parts. But in the back, she soon saw a stack of boxes, not old ones that would indicate tattered storage, but brand-new boxes.
Anxiously, she climbed over a mess of old bicycle parts towards the pillar of boxes, the highest of which just about reached her chin.
When she reached it, she noticed a white, powdery substance, the faintest residue, on top of the box. She had a pretty good idea of what it was.
Wasting no time, she pulled the top box off the pillar. It was heavy and she nearly dropped it, as she set it on the ground. Tearing the packaging tape off that lined the seam, she opened it and discovered the same white powder in plastic bags.
She gasped and sat, staring down at the drugs. Were these the same boxes she had seen Daisy drop off at the Langleys’ mustard warehouse? Was this an operation? Bradley came to mind. Jessica had said she had found a similar substance in the teenager’s room.
Meredith had been arrested for her role in a larger drug ring that Scott hadn’t been able to unravel. Daisy, as well, and the former luncheonette owner hadn’t named names. Was Tommy Barkow a part of this? Or had he tried to get out? Who killed him and why?
She thought she heard a twig snap on the other side of the shed door and she startled. Frantic, she closed the box, affixed the packaging tape, and returned it to the top of the pillar. As soon as she squared it off so that it wouldn’t topple over, she noticed a stamped address on the side of the box.
Scanning box after box, working her way down the pillar, she saw the exact same address on all of them. There wasn’t a recipient name, only the initials KD. Quickly, she pulled her cell from her overalls and snapped a pic then hurried through the shed.
When she reached the door, she pressed her ear to it, but heard nothing other than the faint trickle of the fountain in the distance.
After easing the door open and slipping out, she couldn’t get to her truck fast enough. As she opened the driver’s side door, a young woman, who she recognized as the Over the Moon receptionist, padded towards the entrance, carrying a tray of Bean There coffee in her hands.
“Good morning,” she called out to Kate, juggling the coffee tray to muscle the door open since, evidently, the butlers weren’t on the job.
Kate was too nervous to respond, though she smiled and gave the woman a nod.
She was quick to get behind the wheel and shut the door. In the privacy of her truck, she opened the photo of the address on her cell phone and memorized it. 28 Pennsylvania Road.
It wasn’t an address she recognized. The Langleys lived on Rock Ridge Boulevard and their mustard warehouse was on Route 12.
She started the engine and carefully backed out of her parking spot, arching backwards. When she eased on the gas, leaving Over the Moon and heading towards the address, one fact was undeniably at the forefront of her mind—the Langleys were selling drugs and using their warehouse, as well as the inn, to move the illegal product.
It felt like an eternity lapsed before she reached the address, which she discovered was a modest colonial house set back from the road. There were no neighboring houses around, and as her truck crawled up the driveway, she guessed the property had about five acres behind it. Not too shabby.
She threw the truck into park, but kept it idling. The garage door was open, and as she leaned over the wheel, spying through the darkened garage, she saw a white sedan inside.
The initials on the address were KD.
But Kate had seen that sedan before.
It wasn’t KD.
It was DK.
Donna Kramer.
Before Kate could throw her truck into gear, Donna stormed out of the house, shouting, “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
Chapter Six
The threat of panicking was all too real. Kate wanted to peel out of there and never look back. She didn’t know Donna Kramer, but had a bad feeling about the woman’s capabilities. If Kate stuck around to talk her way out of this, the danger of finding out those capabilities firsthand would be inescapable.
Kate began backing out, acting as calmly as she could, but Donna stepped behind her truck, forcing her to slam on the brakes.
“Excuse me, Flaherty,” she said in a demanding voice. “This is private property. What are you doing here?”
Cracking the window so she wouldn’t have to shout, Kate watched Donna nearing her. “I’m supposed to be on Pennsylvania Avenue,” she lied. “For a fix-it job. Got the address wrong. Sorry!”
Donna looked put off, but dropped her grievance and glared at Kate as she resumed her careful U-turn out of the driveway.
As she drove down the road, she cued up Scott’s number in her cell phone and sent the call through. After three rings, his outgoing voice-mail message came through and she groaned. As soon as she heard the beep, she rushed through her message, telling him to drop everything and meet her at the Langleys’ house.
When she got to the house, Scott’s truck was nowhere in sight. Neither was Amelia’s Cadillac.
Just as she was about to climb out of her truck, she felt her cell phone vibrating in her overalls. When she saw the caller ID, she answered it immediately.
“Where are you?” she asked urgently.
“I got your message. Amelia’
s not at the house.”
“Fine, at the hospital? I’ll meet you there. There’s no time to explain.”
“Just hang on a second, Kate.”
“This is important!”
“So is this. I arrested Amelia.”
Taken aback, she asked, “For drugs?”
“What? Drugs? No. Why would you think that?”
“That’s why I want to meet you. What did you arrest Amelia for?”
“You know the partial print we got from the murder weapon? It belonged to Amelia.”
“She’s in jail?”
“She is.”
“You really think she did it?”
Scott sighed into the phone. “I had my doubts, but forensics doesn’t lie.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Why would you think Amelia was arrested for drugs?”
“Trust me, you’re going to want to hear this in person.”
“Fine,” he said. “Come in through the back.”
“Why?”
“There’s a wall of reporters at the front door. Leading the charge is Eric Demblowski. I’m telling you, he’s hungry for blood and anyone passing in and out is going to wind up in one of his outlandish news stories.”
“Got it. See you soon.”
Following Scott’s advice for when she reached the municipal building, she overshot it then turned up a side street, working her way around to the alley behind the precinct where a few parking spaces were vacant, mainly used for freight deliveries.
She parked and hopped out, and soon she was working her way through the bowels of the building, ascending the back stairwell until she reached the homicide floor of the police department.
Police officers rushed through the station, each seeming pressed for time and all the more irritable because of it. Kate paused at the receptionist counter, but didn’t have to ask the woman behind the desk for Scott.
“Katydid,” he called out, stealing her attention, as he wove his way through the cops. “It’s a bit of a madhouse today. Come into my office.”
Just as he was turning, she grabbed his arm. “Anything I should know about?”
“I’ll tell you in my office.”
“I mean about you. Are you all right? You look gaunt.”
He calmed for a moment and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.
Satisfied, she followed him to his office at the far side of the room.
As soon as she shut the door, giving them privacy, Kate asked, “Couldn’t Amelia’s fingerprints have been on the mallard for a variety of reasons that have nothing to do with her being guilty of Tommy’s murder?”
“I’d like to think so, but it’s not looking that way.”
“Then I have to tell you something.”
Scott eased into the chair behind his desk, encouraging Kate to take a seat, as well. When she did, she pressed her mouth into a hard line, debating the best way to frame her discoveries.
“I should’ve told you back when Daisy and her croonies snatched me and threw me into that van...”
“Yes?”
“I followed them to the Langleys’ warehouse. That’s where they grabbed me. I saw them dropping off boxes. Boxes I believe contained drugs.”
Scott narrowed his gaze, contemplatively.
“Then earlier today,” she went on, “I went to Over the Moon and I happened to find the same boxes out in a shed near the inn. I opened one of the boxes and found drugs. It looked like they were packaged professionally. What if the Langleys are involved in some kind of drug ring? We know that’s why Daisy and Meredith were arrested. It’s too much of a coincidence that two of their establishments have hidden boxes of the stuff. And worse...” She trailed off and drew in a deep breath to wrap her head around coming out with the next piece of information. “Jessica told me she found Bradley with similar packages.”
Scott remained silent and worked his jaw, mulling over all she had divulged. When he spoke, his tone was low and even.
“Amelia’s not talking.” He let his statement hang for a long moment then added, “She’s waiting for her attorney. She’s not going to talk to me even with the family relation and how well we’ve gotten to know each other. She doesn’t trust cops.”
“Am I supposed to be surprised by this?”
“Just a minute, now.” Scott rapped his thumb on the desk, thinking. “I hope I don’t regret this....”
“What?”
“I’d like you to talk to her.”
“Me?”
He furrowed his brow and she laughed.
“You never want me talking to anyone when it comes to one of your investigations.”
“True,” he said easily. “Which is why I said I hope I don’t regret this. It’s a last-ditch effort and we need it. The partial print was enough to arrest her, but quite frankly, if this goes to trial with what little evidence we have and the muscle behind her high-powered attorney, I’m afraid the DA won’t get a conviction. I have to think long term, here.”
“What makes you think she’ll talk to me?”
“This new drug angle,” he said, fragmenting his point with a heavy sigh. “She doesn’t know we know. If you tell her and act like you can help protect her from me and the department finding out, who knows? Maybe she’ll start thinking she can cut a deal, give us information we want for a reduced sentence.”
“Will you grant her that?”
Wavering, he said, “It depends on the information. All I know is that she thinks we’re looking at murder, and we were until you stepped into this office. So she’s been holding out. But if she learns from you that she could soon be looking at drug trafficking on top of murder, she might get nervous and admit it all in exchange for a deal.”
“You never cease to surprise me, Scott York,” she said, rising out of her chair. “What do you make of Becky’s abduction now that we know this whole new drug angle?”
“Speculation will get me nowhere,” he said, getting to his feet, as well.
“So she didn’t tell you that she had Tommy look into the whole Becky thing?”
“What whole Becky thing?”
Kate took a moment to explain to him how Becky’s old employee ID number was used to discount Clifford Green at Over the Moon and that directly after Tommy alerted Amelia to this fact he was killed.
As stunned as he was, he kept a lid on it. “Kate, you have to stop keeping things from me.”
“I know. Amelia asked me not to say anything because she thought it might incriminate Becky or her or...” She shrugged. “Now you know everything I do.”
Two floors below, the jail cells were well lit, thanks to the windows that lined the upper edge of their back walls. After presenting the guard with her driver’s license, Kate walked through the empty cells and found Amelia in the last one on the left, seated on a bench. She looked stoic, more annoyed than self-pitying, which Kate had to give her credit for. But was Amelia’s self-righteous attitude evidence of her guilt in this situation?
If it were, why kill Tommy?
Had he discovered those drug boxes going in and out of the shed that day? Had Amelia walked in on him witnessing such a thing and impulsively killed him? If so, what had he been doing in that room in the first place? If Chucky could be trusted, then Kate had to assume Tommy knew about the operation, and that was his reason for being in room 5 in the first place.
If Amelia and Tommy were on the same side, why would she kill him?
Amelia lifted her chin, declaring, “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I think you should reconsider.”
She snorted a laugh and reminded Kate that the only person she would be willing to talk to is her attorney.
“I didn’t tell Scott about Becky’s ID number,” Kate pointed out. “I was trustworthy then and you can trust me now, because I have information you’re going to want to hear.”
She used a condescending tone to ask, “And what’s that?”
Kate wrapped her hands around th
e bars, getting as close to Amelia as possible, not that it helped. The woman was sitting on the far side of the cell.
“The drugs. I’ve known since Scott solved Clifford’s murder.”
Amelia snapped her sharp green eyes at Kate.
“Yeah,” said Kate, driving her point home. “I know about the drugs at the warehouse. I know they’re in the shed at the inn. And I know Tommy died, because he had something to do with it.”
Amelia rushed to the bars, her attitude having completely shifted. Her eyes widened with fear and she seemed out of breath, not because she had hurried across the floor, but for what she was about to disclose.
“We couldn’t stop them,” she blurted out. “I’ve been dying, just dying keeping this secret.”
“What secret? Tell me everything.”
“And Lance kept saying, ‘We have to tell Scott. We have to tell him this is why they’ve taken our daughter.’ But I was too afraid.” She sobbed then sucked in a deep breath, collecting herself. “He kept saying that to me,” she repeated, “and the next thing I know, Lance is in the midst of an explosion!”
“Who? Who is behind this?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But whoever he is, whoever they are, they’re close and they’re always listening.”
“I want to believe you, but—”
“I didn’t kill Tommy, I swear. And the thing of it is, I don’t know why he was killed. But he had to have been involved with the higher-ups, the ones we don’t know.”
“How did this all start?”
“Innocently enough,” she said. “Our warehouse manager was approached by a man who offered a sizable fee in exchange for looking the other way when boxes were delivered. Lance and I didn’t even know about this arrangement until a few months back when Lance stopped in at the warehouse and discovered a set of boxes. He’s close with the warehouse manager, who said he had been accepting cash for nearly a year. Harold is his name. He was terrified. He told Lance no one could stop it, that Lance had to let them do what they wanted. You know Lance. He isn’t a brave man, so he promised not to say anything.”
Amelia nearly broke into tears again. Her bottom lip was quivering and Kate felt terrible for her.
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