Trouble Magnet

by DelSheree Gladden

  Maggie smiled, but it was lined by grief. “They tried, but my grandfather could never get the financial capital he needed to rebuild his business. They both died when I was very young, broken and penniless. My aunt Janet held the family together as best she could and worked two or three jobs at a time to help my dad and uncle pay for college so they could have a better life.”

  “She sounds like an amazing lady,” I said.

  Nodding, Maggie said, “She was.” Her shoulders sagged, emotional exhaustion pulling them down after digging up such heartache. I didn’t want to keep her any longer, and was about to thank her for her time so she could leave, but Maggie had a question for us.

  “These people you mentioned,” she said, “do you think they were the ones in the car that night?”

  Baxter and I looked at each other. I knew we were both thinking the same thing, a resounding yes, but while I was only playing at amateur sleuth to avoid ending up in the obituaries myself, Baxter was a lawyer. His expression changed as he chose his words carefully.

  “There’s no way we can prove any of our theories, and they’re only that, theories,” he said, “but knowing everything we do, I think it’s a possibility.”

  Maggie nodded. “It doesn’t matter much now, I suppose, but I think it might give my father some comfort to finally put his brother’s death to rest.”

  I smiled and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. I hoped we could do that one small thing for her family. I knew what having resolution could mean to a person. Not having it weighed on you constantly. I was still seeking it myself, and feared I would never find it.

  Maggie left soon after that, less burdened and hopeful. I hoped we wouldn’t disappoint her. Another diner walked in behind her and I sighed, knowing I needed to get back to the kitchen. I shifted to slide out of the booth, but Baxter grabbed my arm.

  “Despite what I said to Maggie, I’m positive Ms. Sinclair and her friends are responsible for Donny’s death,” he said. “If she had that ring somewhere, and someone wants it back, none of the rest of this matters. Finding that ring is the only thing that’s going to keep you alive.”

  It wasn’t news. I’d figured that out the second she mentioned the ring and I realized it was almost definitely what the killer wanted. Hearing it spoken out loud, though, it stole my breath. “We’ve gone through her entire apartment,” I whispered. “It’s not there.”

  “No documents about a safety deposit box or storage facility?” he asked. I shook my head. Baxter ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slowly. He’d been helping Sonya sort out Ms. Sinclair’s will, so he already knew there was no mention of it there. I was out of ideas, and his silence said he was too.

  I had pinned so much of my hopes on this meeting, on Maggie having all the answers I needed. My breathing hitched as the truth set in. Baxter was right. None of it mattered without the ring. If I couldn’t find it, I was going to die. I was going to be killed for something I had nothing to do with, for being an innocent bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like Donny.

  20: A Reputation

  I checked my texts as soon as class let out for lunch. We’d moved out of talking about how disgusting a poorly cleaned kitchen could be and the illnesses that could cause, but I still didn’t have much of an appetite. Sean was packing up beside me. We’d eat lunch together, like we always did, but we wouldn’t talk about Ms. Sinclair or the deadline. He didn’t bring it up and neither did I.

  “I need to run by the advising office before lunch. Meet you in the café?” he said as he shouldered his bag.

  I nodded. “Sure. See you in a bit.” He took off and I felt bad that I was relieved to see him go. I just wanted to sit by myself for a few minutes.

  Sonya had frantically been searching Ms. Sinclair’s belongings a second time all week. Everything that hadn’t already been trashed was scheduled to be picked up by various charities by the end of the week. The apartment itself was empty, a professional cleaning crew scrubbing it down, replacing bloodstained carpet, and repainting the walls. Sonya had even called the phone number Lucas left with her when he moved out and arranged to look through his belongings, but that had yielded nothing useful either.

  It was Thursday, and I was out of options.

  Dragging myself out of the classroom, I only looked up to avoid being run over. I certainly wasn’t expecting to find Officer Williams waiting for me. I reached for the wall behind me, flattening myself against it as I stared at him. He looked like he always did when in uniform, perfectly pressed and presentable. Much better than he had the morning he accosted me. His eyes were clear and focused this time.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Checking up on you.” He stepped closer.

  “On me? Why?”

  “Well, you do tend to attract trouble. Seemed like a logical place to start.”

  “Start what?” I demanded.

  He smirked, and took another step. “Start looking into why someone thinks you might be involved in Ms. Sinclair’s murder.”

  “I’m not involved,” I snapped.

  “Then why did someone assault you and demand you get whatever it was that old bat was hiding before this weekend?” he asked. His voice was perfectly even, but the edge hiding behind his polite tone made me want to run.

  Did nobody see this? I couldn’t possibly be the only person in the hall. I was clearly scared of this guy. Would no one step up and make sure I was okay? Taking a deep breath, I told myself to stop waiting for someone to save me and do something about it myself. Easier said than done. Even still, I took a deep breath and did my best to look like I wasn’t shaking in my Converse.

  “How did you even hear about that? It didn’t happen in your precinct.”

  “A friend,” he said. “He knew I’d run into you on the Sinclair case and gave me a heads up.”

  I couldn’t remember the names of the cops who’d taken my statement that night. I still had their cards, though. I was seriously considering giving them a call and telling them to mind their own damn business. “How nice for you,” I said, not even trying to pretend my smile was real. “Did your friend also tell you how I explained to him I had absolutely zero connection to Ms. Sinclair and had no clue what the killer wanted from her?”

  “He did,” Officer Williams said, “but I don’t think I believe you anymore, not when you’re snooping around into things better left to the police. A pretty little girl like you could get hurt digging into things too big for her.”

  Hitting a cop would be a bad thing to do. I repeated that to myself a few times before I was able to speak without spitting in his face. “What exactly do you think I’ve been snooping into?”

  “Your lawyer friend requesting access to police files, Sonya calling up the dead kid’s old roommates to look through his things, you poking around in the old lady’s belongings, trying to find what the killer wanted, what he killed her for.”

  “Baxter is a lawyer. He looks at police files all the time. Nothing to do with me. And Sonya only asked to look through Lucas’s things to make sure there weren’t any other relatives she didn’t know about before Ms. Sinclair’s stuff is picked up by charity tomorrow. I was helping her clean. I don’t care what she was hiding. So where’s the big mystery, Officer Williams? Are you so bored you have to invent new ones? Why not solve the one you’ve already got?” I asked.

  His hand snapped to the wall next to my head and I couldn’t control the gasp that escaped my lips. “I’ve done everything I was supposed to on the Sinclair case. The detectives are handling the rest of the investigation. They’ll catch her murderer, or they won’t. They’re more concerned with that than finding the mystery item the killer is so interested in. Misguided if you ask me, but they didn’t, so it’s their problem. Talk to them if you’re unhappy about their progress.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that.” I tried to slide away from him, but his other hand came up to stop me.

  He leaned in so hi
s breath was hot on my cheek as he spoke. “Two more days, Eliza. That’s the deadline your attacker gave you, wasn’t it? Two more days, and then who knows what will happen. Maybe if you tell me what you and your friends have discovered, I could help you.”

  While I doubted he could help me for more than one reason, I decided pointing out his shortcomings wouldn’t make this go any better. So I kept up my lie. “If I knew anything helpful, I’d be more than happy to turn it over to qualified police personnel.”

  Okay, maybe I let a little spite slip through.

  Officer Williams’ jaw clenched. “I am trying to help you, but you’re—”

  “Is there a problem here?” Sean demanded, his voice commanding enough to draw the good officer’s attention.

  Eyeing me the entire time, Officer Williams pulled his hands away from the wall and held them out in a pacifying gesture. “Not at all.”

  “Really,” Sean said dryly, “because that didn’t look like a friendly conversation. It looked suspiciously like intimidating a witness.”

  Officer Williams bristled, but kept a smirk on his face. “Well, she’s a hostile witness.”

  “I’m pretty sure that only applies to a witness on the stand, not women you decide to attack in a hallway, twice.” Sean squared up. He was several inches shorter than the cop, but he didn’t let that intimidate him like I had. “Leave, or I’ll insist Eliza report you this time. I’m sure your superiors would be very interested to know how you showed up at her place, hungover and out of uniform, and proceeded to shove her into a wall. I’m pretty sure her lawyer took pictures of the bruises you left her with and he’d be more than happy to open a lawsuit against your department.”

  That was a big threat, one carrying dire enough consequences that Officer Williams folded. He backed off, glaring at Sean as he moved. “I’m here trying to keep your friend alive and you’re the one threatening me. If you don’t want my help, fine. I’ll go.” He turned to look at me and sneered. “Good luck on your own, Eliza. You have my card if you change your mind and want to tell me what you’ve found.”

  Then he walked away. We watched him go until the swinging doors swished closed behind him. Stepping over to me, Sean put his arm around my shoulder to help calm me back down. “What was he doing here?”

  “Trying to get me to tell him what I know. He’s desperate, Sean, and not because he wants to close a case.”

  Sean shook his head. “That guy’s dirty. I don’t know how he’s involved in all of this, but he sure seems to want whatever it is your neighbor was hiding just as much as the killer does.”

  Either because he was hungry, or because he was trying to distract me, Sean began pushing me toward the café. I was happy to let him, until his words sunk in and I tripped over my own feet. Sean caught me, and when I said I was fine, kept leading me toward food. He didn’t know the killer wanted a ridiculously expensive diamond. I didn’t share that with him, and I didn’t tell him my newest suspicion either. I waited until we were sitting at our usual table and Sean was talking about the day’s lecture that I slipped my phone out of my bag and held it under the table.

  A text was already waiting when I turned the screen on. I clicked the message from Baxter and read what he had to say.

  Still nothing from my friend, but he said he should have some info by tonight. You doing okay?

  I wanted to tell him that was a stupid question, but I didn’t.

  Fine other than a visit from Officer Williams.

  What? Baxter demanded. What is that asshole doing anywhere near you?

  I kind of enjoyed Baxter’s temper when it wasn’t directed at me. Reminding me of my deadline and wanting to know what I’ve found. Thing is, I think he already knows. He’s in on this. He doesn’t care who killed Ms. Sinclair, only about finding what she left. He never said the word diamond, but I think he knows.

  It took almost a minute before Baxter replied. What makes you say that?

  Everything he asked me about, it was to find the ring, not the killer. He brought up the deadline twice before Sean scared him off.

  Sean? Baxter asked. I could practically hear the incredulity ping off his text.

  I nodded to what Sean was saying, adding in my agreement that I thought Chef Lauren had gone a little heavy on the cayenne pepper in the dressing we’d made the previous day. Turning my attention back to my phone, I texted back quickly. He’s not as bad as you assume.

  Not wanting to start an argument, I hurried to get things back on topic. We have to find out how Williams knows about the diamond. It could be important.

  I agree, Baxter replied. I’ll ask Gordy if he knows anything about Williams. Guys like him usually have a reputation.

  Thanks, Baxter.

  Yeah. Be careful today. See you later.

  That was the end of the conversation. I tried to turn my attention back to Sean and listen in earnest. I came close, but Officer Williams’ comments and threat kept distracting me. It didn’t make sense. Nobody even made the connection between Ms. Sinclair’s crowd and Donny’s murder before Baxter put our investigation on the right path. The only people who knew about the ring disappearing were Donny’s family and the police. And whoever the well-to-do family was who had commissioned the setting, I supposed, but Maggie hadn’t known who that was.

  Sure the diamond was worth a whole lot, but who would kill an old woman fifty years after the fact when they still didn’t know where the diamond had ended up? The whole thing was a confusing mess. If the killer was so intent on reclaiming the lost diamond, why kill Ms. Sinclair before she gave up her secrets? Then I remembered my conversation with Officer Williams about Lucas’s death. I had suggested then that the killer had either beaten him up for information and taken it too far, or purposely finished him off when he realized the poor kid didn’t know anything. Had the same thing happened to Ms. Sinclair, or had the killer expected Lucas to have the answers, or the diamond, and had simply done away with her?

  What did that mean for me?

  21: Because Everyone Else is Dead

  I waved goodbye to Gwen and followed Baxter out to his car. As soon as we were both seated, he asked, “Did you tell your friend to ask me out?”

  I laughed. “What?” He eyed me skeptically. “Did she really ask you out?” I had wondered why he’d been watching Gwen like she might bite him.

  “Did you tell her to?”

  “Yeah, but I was joking.”

  He started the car and began backing out. “Joking about her asking me out?” He shook his head.

  “It wasn’t exactly like that,” I said, enjoying his discomfort more than I should. “The first time you picked me up from work, she mentioned how attractive you were and asked why I was going out with Sean when I had you willing to pick me up. I said if she thought you were such a catch, she should have at it and ask you out, since I wasn’t interested. I didn’t think she’d actually do it.”

  “And why did you tell her you weren’t interested?” Baxter asked, one eyebrow raised.

  Laughing again, I pressed a finger to my lips. “I believe my exact words were, ‘Baxter is the worst.’” I grinned at him. “I didn’t like you very much back then, but I’m pretty sure the feeling was mutual.”

  “And what,” he scoffed, “you like me now?”

  “Most of the time,” I said, relishing this lighthearted moment. It felt like forever since I’d smiled or laughed.

  Baxter shook his head. “Well, that feeling’s mutual, too.”

  I pressed my hand to my chest and stared at him openmouthed and wide-eyed. “Did you just say you liked me, sometimes? I’m shocked. Truly shocked.”

  “Shut up,” he grumbled.

  “So what did you say?” I asked. “Are you going to go out with Gwen?”

  He scowled at me. “No.”

  “Why not? She’s really nice.”

  “Between work and keeping you alive, my plate is full.” The smirk in his voice mellowed the bite that had been there when he’d men
tioned having to save me a few days ago. Maybe I was growing on him.

  Chuckling at his response, I let myself sink back into the seat. I closed my eyes and listened to the music playing. Baxter always played the same type of music. Classical. At first, I thought that odd, given his volatile temperament, but I figured it must help him relax, and I wasn’t about to knock it. Personally, I loved it. I had absolutely no musical talent whatsoever, but Bernadette did, of course. She’d played the piano since she was seven, and took up the viola in middle school. I grew up to sounds of Chopin and Haydn. The music soothed me as we drove.

  Yes, I was putting off the conversation I knew we needed to have about what Baxter’s cop friend had found, but I didn’t want to have it just yet. I wanted to pretend for a few more minutes that I was a normal girl getting a ride home from a friend, and that when we reached our destination it would be a casual goodnight, one of many to come. I didn’t want to think that the next day was Friday.

  The guy who grabbed me from the club hadn’t been super specific about whether his deadline was up the day the new tenants moved into Ms. Sinclair’s old apartment, or when her stuff was carted off. The charities collecting the old furniture that hadn’t been ruined were coming the next day, but the new family wasn’t supposed to arrive until late Saturday night to get the keys and wouldn’t actually move in until Sunday morning. I tried not to think about it as Baxter parked and we got out.

  Not thinking about it got a lot harder when Baxter unlocked the main door and we stepped into the lobby to see all of Ms. Sinclair’s old belongings piled up according to which charity was hauling it away. I turned away quickly and headed for the stairs with Baxter close behind. I had my keys out by the time we reached the landing, and they jingled with every step I took. I was shaking so badly by the time I reached my door, Baxter had to take the keys from my hand.

  As soon as he pushed the door open, I slipped past him and curled up on the couch. He’d been in my apartment enough that week that he didn’t ask my permission before coming in and locking the deadbolt behind him. We’d come to some sort of unspoken truce until this was all over. Maybe we would have a chance at actually being friends if I survived the next few days, but not dying was looking more and more unlikely as time went by.