She returned the rearview to its proper position, got her truck idling and then threw it into gear and rolled off along Main Street. A few short blocks later, she turned into the Municipal Building parking lot and parked her truck in a spot close to the precinct.
Sandra had been desperate when Officer Chesterfield forced her into the back of his police cruiser. And Kate had to figure the writer would only feel more so now that she’d spent the night in jail.
Wrestling down a twinge of guilt that Kate had been the reason Sandra was locked up, she climbed out of her truck and started for the precinct.
It was cool inside, thank God. Her shirt felt damp from the warm ride over, but the air was refreshing now.
Avoiding the bullpen, Kate walked down the hallway and into the stairwell, which she descended into the basement where Sandra was being held in one of the jail cells.
After a moment of banter with the security guard, she passed into the jail and started down the aisle.
Sandra was lying down on a cot in one of the cells. Her arm was draped over her eyes, but her foot kept rocking, which told Kate the writer wasn’t sleeping, but likely exhausted with anxiety.
“Sandra?” she asked, getting her attention.
She bolted upright. It took her a minute to place who was there, and when she realized it was Kate, she ran toward the bars.
“You did this!” she yelled. “You did this to me! I spoke with your husband!”
“Sandra, please calm down.”
“Why should I?”
“Because!” she interjected and as soon as Sandra had quieted she added, “Because I believe you.”
In a small voice she said, “You do?”
“Yes,” said Kate, finally convincing her.
“No one else does,” she complained. “I listed alibis for all the places I went that day for my errands, but I guess no one remembers me.”
That piqued Kate’s interest, because it seemed odd.
“I guess I have one of those faces that blends in with a crowd.”
Shaking off the momentary distraction, Kate said, “I need to ask you about Nathan’s friends. I know you didn’t get along, but I’m hoping you can give me some information.”
“I can try. You think his friends did it?”
“Could be one of them,” she allowed. “Could be all of them or none of them. I won’t know for sure until I track them down.”
Sandra folded her arms, looking apprehensive.
Kate began listing the names, “Marcus Wheaton, Hunter Cole, and Kiernan Kirkland.”
Nodding, she said, “Yeah, I know them.”
“I heard that those three had lost the most in terms of the bets they’d all placed with Nathan during their drag racing.”
“Marcus and Hunter live together down in that high-rise apartment on the south side of town.”
Kate knew the one. She had renovated the first four floors for Justina a few years back before a larger construction company built another ten floors on the building.
“I don’t know their exact apartment numbers,” she went on. “But there’s a marquee in the entryway, last names beside buzzers. They should be listed there.”
“Great,” said Kate. “What about Kiernan?”
“I don’t know where he lives, only where he works.”
Kate was in the same boat so she didn’t press that line of inquiry. Instead, she asked, “Do you happen to know if any of them read your book, Notes of a Strangler?”
Sandra took a moment to think it over. “I have no idea, but Nathan was crazy about that book. His friends might not have needed to read it. Nathan could’ve easily told them about every last detail. He was raving about it and had read it, I think, three or four times.”
“In your book, did the killer wear a black ski mask? Did he kill his victim’s on a roof?”
Kate was hoping the killer had been literal and followed Sandra’s book to the letter. If so, then skimming it might give her insight.
“No,” she said bluntly. “It was about a serial killer who was a music teacher. He always killed the evil parents of his students, a vigilante justice type story. Nothing about how Nathan was killed matches except for the murder weapon.”
Absorbing the incongruity, Kate took a moment to think, but Sandra’s big, worrisome eyes were distracting her.
“Do you have a good lawyer?” she asked.
The writer rolled her eyes and sighed. “I have a lawyer, court appointed. I don’t make enough money to retain an attorney who’s really experienced.”
“When will your bail be set? Any idea?”
“Since they think it’s premeditated, I’m not sure they’re going to offer me bail,” she said anxiously. “Kate, I can’t go to prison for a crime I didn’t commit.”
“It won’t come to that,” she assured her. “The truth always comes out sooner or later.”
“Well, it better come out sooner. I can’t stand being in here.”
Kate felt terrible, but it wasn’t productive so she shook it off, stating, “Tell me everything you can about Notes of a Strangler.”
Chapter Seven
An hour later, Kate ascended the stairs to the first floor of the precinct. As she swung the stairwell door open, stepping into the hallway, she felt her cellphone vibrating in her front pocket.
She hoped it wouldn’t be a customer in need of repairs. She didn’t have it in her to turn down work, but when she glanced at the LCD screen and saw Scott’s name flashing, she wasn’t sure she could afford that kind of distraction either.
It wasn’t until she passed through the door into the afternoon heat that she answered the call.
“Hi Scott,” she said, sidestepping into the shade of the overhead portico.
“I’ve got news,” he said in an upbeat tone.
“Oh?”
“I got a week off.”
“You did?”
It was exactly what she had wanted, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time.
“You don’t sound happy,” he pointed out.
Cutting in, she blurted, “No, I’m happy, really. That’s great news. When is your week off?”
“Now! Where are you?”
Glancing over her shoulder, she wondered if she should fib or come out with the truth. Of course, if she told him that she was in the precinct, it would take him less than two seconds to understand why.
“Uh, I’m driving,” she lied. “I’m right near the precinct actually.”
“Well, stop in.” he said with a booming laugh. “I’m starving and way too pumped up to work the rest of the day.”
“So your vacation doesn’t start until...?”
“Tomorrow,” he supplied. “But mentally I’m already checked out. Spring fever you could say.”
“I’ll see you in two seconds,” she told him. “I’m pulling into the parking lot now.”
As Kate returned her cell to her pocket, she quickly walked to her truck, turned on her heel and began walking slowly back. By the time she was swinging the entrance door open, Scott stepped into the lobby. The smile on his face was bigger than she’d ever seen aside from their wedding day, and when he caught sight of her new haircut he clapped his hands and laughed.
Throwing his arms around her, he said, “Katydid! Your hair!”
“Do you like it?” she asked, urging him back so she could look up at him.
“It looks great! Did you get it cut for our vacation?”
“I sure did,” she said.
He gave her a kiss and began massaging her shoulders as he dreamed up all the ways they could spend their week off. “I’m thinking we can get out onto the lake. It’s good fishing weather. Also, there are a bunch of restaurants we haven’t been to in forever. We can’t eat at Daisy’s all the time. When was the last time you saw a movie?”
“I, uh, can’t remember?”
“Me neither,” he laughed. “I made a list today. I haven’t been working so much as surfing the net for things to d
o. So, I’m thinking we can spend the day with Josie and get some fresh air. There’s a zoo two towns over. And then we’ll get Maxwell over each evening to watch her.”
Kate had to admit it sounded perfect, but how could she possibly enjoy herself knowing that she was responsible for Sandra’s wrongful arrest.
Excitedly, he began flipping through a notepad that she hadn’t even realized was in his hand. “I made an itinerary—”
“You what?”
“Now, it’s just preliminary. We can go over it and move things around, but I want to take advantage of every minute. I have had a solid week off for the first time since...since moving here, I think. How crazy is that?”
“Pretty crazy,” she said, taking the notepad and skimming the activities. Scott wasn’t lying. He had packed every minute with things to do, including scheduling time for breast-feeding and showering. It was almost overwhelming.
“Where do you feel like eating?” he asked.
“For...?”
“Now…for late lunch. I told you, I’m starving.”
If Kate was about to spend the next seven days with Scott, then she needed to make every second for the rest of the day count.
“Oh, Honey, I already ate.”
His smile faded a bit, but he bucked up. “Hey, that’s okay. I only have another four hours to muscle through, three if I take a long lunch.”
“So, you’re no longer investigating the Nathan Robillard case?”
“Why would I? It’s in the bag, closed and sealed.” He wrapped his arms around her again, holding her tight. “I’m so glad you pushed me for these days off.”
“Me too,” she mumbled.
Releasing her, he said, “See you at six? I even picked out some recipes to make at home. We’ll pick Josie up, head over to the supermarket and get some wine and some ingredients. Kate! I feel like it’s Christmas morning!”
She couldn’t help but laugh and told him it sounded like a plan. After giving him one more kiss, she started for the door and smiled at him over her shoulder as she stepped outside.
Once there, she sighed.
Four hours.
Could she solve this thing by then?
In all honesty, she really wasn’t sure and walked quickly to her truck because of it.
If she was going to question Marcus Wheaton and Hunter Cole then she needed an angle or an “in” with them. She couldn’t simply launch headlong into an interrogation. But what that angle would be, she didn’t have a clue.
Rory had made notes for her regarding where he had left the red Ford Thunderbird, when approximately it had been stolen, and where it was returned. Taking time to think about the best point of entry with the drag racers, she climbed in her truck and drove off toward the shampoo boy’s house.
During the drive, Kate left the windows down to suck out all the hot air, and then blasted the air conditioner with her windows up. She put in a call to Maxwell, switching her cell to speakerphone as she checked in. Josie was doing just great, he explained. He’d lathered her up in sunblock, put her in her bathing suit and a sun hat, and filled their inflatable pool with cool water. They were playing outside and having a blast. Kate reminded him that Josie couldn’t be in the sun very long, but Maxwell was already on top of it, keeping close watch on the time and also keeping Josie hydrated with fresh fruit juice and water.
Kate thanked him for taking such good care of her daughter, wrapped up the call, and set her cellphone on the passenger’s seat so that she could get back to thinking.
Before she knew it, she was rolling toward the address Rory had provided.
It was a large Colonial house with a two-car garage attached to the side and a white picket fence wrapping the perimeter, but Rory hadn’t left the Thunderbird in the driveway.
Clearly, he didn’t own this house but lived with his parents, which would explain why he had opted to park the sporty car around the block.
She pulled her truck along the curb just past his house, grabbed her cellphone from the passenger’s seat and climbed out. A half block walk would do her good, and if she were being honest with herself, lunch would’ve too. She hadn’t eaten and her stomach was rumbling, but she reasoned being a little uncomfortable was better than giving up an hour to eat lunch with Scott.
When she got to the end of the block, she turned right and saw the billowy oak tree half a block up. Rory had written that he’d parked the Thunderbird under the tree the evening prior to its disappearance.
She reached the tree and started looking around. The block was lined with houses and cars. The tree provided shade, but being experienced, she knew there was a major drawback to shade from a tree.
Glancing up, she saw a number of little birds squawking on the branches. No one in their right mind parks their car under a tree unless they want to find it covered in bird droppings.
It gave her an idea.
But first she looked both ways and then crossed the street to where Rory had said he’d found the car.
Unsure of what she was looking for, Kate grabbed her cellphone, cued up the camera app, and began taking photos of both parking spots, the houses in front of them and wide-angle shots of the block, and then she started off for her truck.
She had her “in” with the drag racers, and it would have everything to do with their love of that red Thunderbird.
As soon as she climbed into her truck and got it idling, the AC cranking, her cell began vibrating in her front pocket. Figuring it was Scott, who would think she was home by now with Josie, she swiped the screen without so much as glancing at it so she could keep her eyes on the road.
“Yeah, I’m almost home,” she fibbed, expecting to hear her husband reply.
She didn’t.
It was Carly. “Kate, oh, Kate, if you’re almost home,” she began, “could you make a quick pit stop, I mean Max is babysitting, right? You can afford a detour?”
“Not really, Carly.”
“Please! I need you at Over the Moon, I mean, Rock Ridge Roses. This place is insane. I can’t believe Lance built it practically overnight.”
“What do you need me for?”
“I’m getting cold feet! I made a power point presentation, and I have everything I’m going to say on note cards, but I need a little moral support.”
“Lance is a really nice guy, Carly. He’s not going to eat you alive; he’s probably going to thank you.”
“Yeah, maybe, but he built a gift shop right next to the entrance, and it looks like a flower store. This is spiraling out of control.”
She sounded panicked, and Kate didn’t want to leave her hanging. Sighing into the receiver, she said, “Alright, I’m on my way. Take deep breaths, I’ll be there soon.”
Carly burst out with thank yous and when she finally quieted, Kate set her cell on the passenger’s seat.
She had to admit, if she were in Carly’s position, she would feel the exact same way, and in fact had several times. When Dean Wentworth first got to town with his contractor business, she had certainly felt a sting of insecurity. If anything had kept her fix-it business going strong over the years, it was that people both liked and trusted her. In a sense, her customers were buying her as much as they were buying her services, and she had full confidence that Carly would reap the same benefit. People liked her. She delivered on time. They trusted that she would consistently provide high quality flowers at the lowest cost possible, because she did.
Kate knew her being there with Carly wasn’t necessary, but her best friend had stood by Kate more times than she could count, so returning the favor was a no-brainer.
If Carly had sounded shocked on the phone that Lance could build an entire nursery-greenhouse with a gift shop in a matter of weeks, Kate was equally stunned to see it with her own eyes.
There wasn’t a trace of Over the Moon in the structure she was staring out through the windshield of her truck.
She pulled her key from the ignition, grabbed her cellphone from the passenger’s se
at, and climbed out, all the while marveling at the one-story building that seemed to be made entirely of glass.
She found Carly inside the marble lobby. Sunlight was pouring in through the glass ceiling and yet the air was cool and crisp.
“Thank God you’re here,” said Carly, rushing to her and giving her a hug, though her hands were full with a laptop and notecards.
“You’re going to do great,” she assured her.
Lance walked into the lobby from the gift shop, took one look at Kate, and declared, “Oh no. No, no, no. Get out.”
Carly exclaimed, “What? Why can’t she be here?”
“Because death follows her wherever she goes.”
Chapter Eight
Kate stared up at the high-rise apartment building on the south side of town and tried not to cringe with embarrassment at the disaster that was Carly’s meeting with Lance Langley.
Kate had known Lance for years. They’d almost become in-laws and would have if his daughter, Becky, hadn’t been a corrupt and murderous psychopath who deceived her son Jason. Kate had nothing to do with the choices Becky had made, but it was no secret that death did follow her. How many dead bodies had she stumbled upon over the years? Countless. It was practically a cosmic joke at this point, but what about Lance? He had married a killer. Had he not seen the signs? Amelia was in prison after all. If Lance should direct his anger at anyone, it should be her and not Kate.
At least he had humored Carly and allowed her to make her presentation, but it had been on the condition that Kate leave and essentially never come back. She hoped things went okay for her best friend.
She pulled the outer entrance door open and approached the apartment buzzer pad that was in the alcove. It was daunting. There had to be at least fifty names. She scanned the list for both Wheaton and Cole, and hoped they weren’t over at Vape Mods working. When she’d been inside the poorly-marked shop it looked as though only one employee worked at a time, so she figured she might get lucky.
Finally, she found Cole written beside one of the buzzers and pressed it, her thoughts locking on the idea she would use as her “in” to get the men to talk with her.
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