by Cat Connor
Ah, Japan. That’s right, some talk show to promote the new album and other promotional appearances and interviews. The new album contained a few songs Rowan and I wrote together. We’d decided not to announce my involvement with the song writing on the album; if anyone read the track information from the CD insert, they’d see my name alongside Rowan’s on a few of the songs. Considering how protective and overbearing some of his fans were, it seemed like a smart move to not mention my involvement out loud. I enjoyed enough attention due to the Butterfly Foundation. It was hard enough doing my job some days and growing harder all the time. Just having Rowan around made it difficult – publicity-wise. What I needed in my life was more unwanted attention? Yeah, not so much.
“We’ll see you when you get home. Have fun.” I tried to recall the entire conversation about Japan and remember who was going. I thought it was Rowan, Tony, and their bitch publicist who behaved as if I were poison, or the devil incarnate. Right or not, Rowan showed no signs of listening.
Rowan said goodbye and hung up.
Lee was holding the other phone away from his ear and trying to explain to my ex-mother-in-law that I was very much alive and that she didn’t need to talk to my father about planning my funeral. He motioned for me to take the phone. I leaned right back into the sofa shaking my head. It wasn’t going to happen. Lee thrust it toward me. Beatrice’s voice bellowed from the small white receiver. I cringed and shook my head. I’d enjoyed not having her in my life and I wasn’t prepared to open that door again now.
Another news report began. This time the reporter spent time extolling my virtues as an FBI agent and a poet, then highlighting my more philanthropic ventures. They were promising an in-depth look at the Butterfly Foundation in a later broadcast. I looked at Lee and ran my thumb under my chin. He escaped the phone call from my ex-mother-in-law.
“Which station started this crap?”
Lee smiled and flipped channels. “This one,” he said, stopping and putting down the remote.
I called directory assistance and they put me through to the television station. A receptionist answered.
“Yeah, this is Supervisory Special Agent Conway – put me through to your news desk.”
She started to argue.
“Okay, then put me through to whoever the hell is in charge of that station. Your CEO will do,” I demanded. My tone conveyed an unwillingness to listen to arguments.
“Putting you through now, ma’am.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said as the phone rang in my ear briefly then stopped short as a male voice spoke.
“This is Colin Scott, how may I help?”
“This is S.S.A. Conway. You can stop reporting my death and offer a public apology to my family and colleagues.”
“We report what we know, ma’am.”
“Your reporters are embellishing.” I signaled Lee and he started making calls. “My body was not publicly identified in that parking lot. Your reporter is an idiot.”
I had a feeling it wasn’t just Caps who listened in on police channels.
“That’s as may be, but no one denied the identity of the woman.”
“And no one noticed me talking to detectives and viewing the body half an hour ago? Amazing.”
“I don’t know who you are.”
“I’m not discussing this any further with you. The reporter in question has caused considerable difficulty this morning by jumping to conclusions and not waiting for formal identification. Cease and desist reporting the death of Agent Conway, immediately.”
“I don’t know who you are …” The insincere sleaze in his voice pissed me off. I wanted to reach down the phone and shove my badge down his throat; maybe knock out some teeth on the way.
“Have it your way,” I said. “In about four minutes a bunch of federal agencies are going to be crawling all over your station. It’s going to look like alphabet soup down there.” I paused, letting my words sink in. “They will have the District Attorney with them. You have any idea how pissed she’s going to be at being hauled out of bed because you can’t get your facts straight?”
“Do what you have to do, Agent.”
I sensed some of his smugness withering. “I shall.”
I hung up and looked at Lee. “Green-light the teams. That bastard thinks he’s a law unto himself. Let’s introduce him to some of our friends; make sure IRS is read in.” There was a smile on my face, I couldn’t help it. “Ask the DA about obstruction charges, and making false declarations.” I picked up my coffee. “I want everything we have on this dead woman; she has a family, and they need to know.”
Lee smiled. He called our SAC, and let him give the news to the teams standing by. “Caine wants to know if you want SWAT.”
I grinned. “Don’t toy with me like that!”
Over the phone, Caine’s laughter bounced into my ear. I would have loved SWAT, but I’d already employed overkill involving as many agencies as I could.
Reporters piss me off. I called our new media liaison, Special Agent Sandra Sinclair. She’d already heard and was heading into the office. She also gave me some information. The television station in question and the reporter who did the live feed from the crime scene, was the same one who had been harassing Carla about a month earlier. He’d followed her to school and lurked around the grounds. He’d even followed her home once or twice. Another reason we were going off the radar with our new home.
I checked my watch.
“I need to talk to Carla before she hears this.”
Lee checked his watch then looked toward the hallway. “She’ll be up soon to get ready for school.”
We both heard an alarm clock ring.
“Speak of the devil,” I commented. “I’ll go start breakfast – pancakes?”
“Sounds good.”
His words were laden with suspicion. It wasn’t that long ago that I was renowned for my inability to make anything more than coffee. As Bob Dylan sang, ‘The Times They Are A-changin.’ I had a feeling that I was going to need to swim to stop myself sinking. Drowning felt like a very real possibility. Nothing I could put my finger on, just a feeling that life was more fluid than usual. Dory from Finding Nemo swam into view. Dammit. Not that annoying fish. I watched her innocently swim up to Bruce the shark and introduce herself. Some days it would be great to be Dory: To have a short memory and trust everyone. Ha!
I knocked on Carla’s door. “Good morning. I’m making pancakes!”
She called back, “Okay, won’t be long.”
As I entered the kitchen, I heard Carla turn on the shower. We had a pretty good routine going, she and I. We’d settled into life as a family. Being a mom didn’t come naturally to me, but Carla didn’t seem to mind. My saving grace was my father. He was my catcher. His signals, combined with his ability to block my wild pitches, saved the game time and time again. Dad was only too happy to play grandpa. The times when I was called away, he moved in, so Carla had continuity of care. I’d enrolled Carla at Oakton High. Her old school was too far from home and this way my dad was handy should anything go wrong.
I scooped flour from the flour bin and beat it into the egg mixture alternately with milk. The fry pan heated. Butter sizzled.
Lee poked his head in. “Can I help?”
“Set the table,” I suggested.
He also poured orange juice and located the maple syrup. Bacon cooking filled the room with the best smell ever. Carla appeared towel-drying her hair. She hugged Lee. He kissed her with affection on the top of her head. She slipped an arm around me and snagged a piece of bacon.
“Morning, sweetheart,” I said, stealing back half the bacon piece and shoving it in my mouth.
She smiled and sat at the table. Sun streamed in the window, painting the scene normal.
I set plates piled with pancakes in front of Lee and Carla, then fetched mine.
Lee nudged Carla. “Ellie always cook like this?”
“Yes,” she replied, drowning her pancakes in syrup.<
br />
We did breakfast. I couldn’t guarantee I’d be around for dinner, so we did breakfast.
“Did you teach her?” he asked, cutting pancakes with his fork.
“Nope.”
Skeptical, he looked at the forkful of pancakes. “Is it okay to eat?”
Carla squawked with indignation, “Uncle Lee, Mom is an excellent cook!”
“The child has spoken,” I added with a smirk.
“How come you’re here so early?” she said, ignoring his feigned wounding.
“We have a case.”
“Is it interesting?”
The phones rang.
“Yep,” Lee replied, pretending he couldn’t hear the persistent ringing.
I put down my fork. “The media have been reporting my death since six this morning.”
“Why?”
“Because someone who looks like me, with the same name, was strangled in Washington early this morning.”
Carla nodded. Her fortitude was legendary. “I’m glad you told me. It’s obviously untrue.” With a cheeky smile she said, “Can I have the day off to grieve?”
“Nice try, kiddo. As you can see there is no grieving required, although I’m a little hurt that you’d be over me in a single day.” I smirked as I shoveled another forkful of pancakes into my mouth. “We’ll drop you at school on our way into the office.”
“Rats!”
“You might want to tell Joey before he hears the news. These media people are tedious and don’t let up.”
“There’s heaps of time. He gets up ten minutes before school starts.”
Lee shrugged. “He’s a guy, and last time I saw him, doesn’t exactly need to shave every day.”
I laughed. That was true. Once a week might be pushing it.
“That’s kinda mean, Uncle Lee,” Carla said.
“Says the kid who called me a dork. My point is he’s a guy – he’ll pick up the nearest almost-clean tee shirt and jeans, shower and leave.”
“And unload an entire bottle of Axe body spray,” I added. “Must he marinate in the stuff?”
“I think what you’re referring to, Ellie, is the smell of teen spirit.”
And with that I heard Nirvana playing. I glanced around the room. The radio wasn’t on. Guess they were playing just for me. ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit.’
“Are you two finished being mean-spirited about my best friend?” Carla asked between syrupy mouthfuls.
“I wasn’t being mean. It was a simple observation.”
Carla rolled her eyes at me.
I laughed. “Anyway I happen to like Joey,” I said.
“Imagine if she didn’t like him,” Lee added.
The phones rang again.
“Mom, are you going to answer that?”
“I don’t think so.” I ate some more, accompanied by ringing phones.
“Why are the phones all ringing like this?”
“Because everyone wants to talk to the dead,” Lee replied.
“I’m super popular in death. Who knew?”
The ringing started to bug me. The house phone was flicking to the answering machine all the time. The sound of well-meaning messages irritated me even more than the phones ringing.
Two
Real Men
There were several surprised faces when I dropped Carla at school. News of my death had spread like wildfire, not so the retraction ordered by the judge. There was an incident a few Christmas’s ago when a judge was abducted. Long story short, I got her back in time for Christmas and they all lived happily ever after. Except, of course, for the stinky troll who abducted the judge. He’s still serving time in a Federal prison. I knew the judge – her husband is a colleague of mine. So when the DA couldn’t get the television station to silence their reporter, I called my friend Judge Hartwell. Proving once again it’s not what you know, so much as who you are and who you know.
I figured Carla could handle the extra attention my death brought. “I’ll see you tonight. Gramps will be there after school.”
She smiled. “Cool, he makes the best snacks.”
“Be good,” I cautioned with a smile.
“Always,” Carla replied giving me a quick hug.
Carla started to walk away as words tumbled out of my mouth, fueled by the death of Gabrielle Conway and concern at how ugly things could turn.
“Honey, walk home with Joey after school. Please.”
She stopped and turned back.
“Is this about you being dead?”
“Mom is paranoid. Today, please humor me.”
She flashed me a quick smile. “Sure, Mom. I’ll walk with Joey.”
A girl called out to her as I walked back to the car; I could see them chatting their way into the school building.
The office was bubbling and seething with talk of reporters being strung up, and comeuppance for the fourth estate, when Lee and I arrived. My extreme reaction to my own death met with approval.
I live to please.
A familiar silhouette sat in a chair in front of my desk. My heart thumped with an unnatural and disturbing rhythm, fusing with the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Special Agent Noel Gerrard was waiting in my office.
Lee went looking for Sam, Kurt – Doc as he was usually known, Sandra, and Caine. Knowing I’d want reports and a briefing.
Noel’s head swiveled as I walked into the room; cool blue eyes watched me pass and sit behind my desk.
“Noel,” I said. “Slow day at NCIS?”
The hint of a crooked smile lit his eyes. “No … just not as entertaining as your day.”
Two coffee cups sat on my desk. Noel never visited without coffee.
“You heard anything?”
“Yes, I have. The dead woman is the wife of a navy lawyer.”
“So she married a Conway?” That made it less creepy and more like bad luck. Two navy connections in her life then. Not like me at all. I had just one, my retired naval father.
He nodded. “He was reported UA yesterday.”
“Think her death is related to his disappearance?”
“We don’t know yet. My people are working on it.”
His response didn’t surprise me. “Navy lawyer and he disappeared.”
“Yes, it appears so.”
“Where was he stationed?”
“Headquarters of the Judge Advocate General, Washington Navy Yard.”
NCIS had their office in the Washington Navy Yard too. Busy place.
“Do we have this information?”
“Yes. The media do not.”
“Good luck with that.”
Noel’s eyes sparkled. He was enjoying the situation way too much. “As long as they’re chasing you all over the city claiming you’re dead, they’re leaving the real death alone.”
“Awesome!”
I drank half the coffee. It was no longer scalding and cool enough to drink without burning.
“We’ll hand this over to NCIS and go on with our business. I’ve got a few cases waiting.” I tapped a pile of manila folders on my desk. “Might even get through some of these.”
I stood up and followed Gerrard to my closed office door. His hand rested on the door handle as he turned to me. “You free for dinner?”
Thought we had lunch plans.
“Not lunch then?”
“This case is going to keep me busy – I can get away for dinner though.”
“My place. Come have dinner with Carla and me. She’ll enjoy that.”
He leaned so close I could smell his cologne and feel the heat rise from his skin. “What about her mom, will she enjoy it?”
“We’ll see.”
He tossed me a smile and left. Lee straightaway filled the void left in the room.
“This isn’t our case, is it?” He lowered himself into the empty chair.
“Nope. NCIS.”
“Good. Want the briefing on the television station?”
“Sure, fill me in.”
I
sat back behind my desk, Lee perched on his, making the wood creak and started talking. “They kicked and screamed a lot about freedom of speech. The DA waded in with facts. You’re not dead. They lied. We also hit the station with a harassment notice. Fairfax Police Department came through with files showing Carla was harassed. The DA and Judge Hartwell insisted that the reporting of your unverified death was an escalation of the harassment.”
“Nice.”
“Looks like they all had some fun making the station apologize.”
“Great. Now these …” I said, tapping the pile of files next to me. “We have work to do.”
I thumbed through the first folder and didn’t quite understand how it came to be on my desk. I showed it to Lee. “Seen this?”
He had a look, shaking his head. “We investigate car theft now?”
“Looks that way.” I flipped through a few other files. “We also have a string of bank robberies, a murder, possible abduction, and someone selling the Jefferson Monument. He’s sold it four times so far this year.”
“Enterprising of him,” Lee said.
I spread the file across my desk. “Call Sam and Kurt in here.”
Lee stuck his head out the door and whistled. Moments later Sam ambled in. No Kurt.
“Where’s Doc?”
Sam shrugged his broad shoulders. “Think he was called out.”
“Okay, just us then.” I waved my hand over the fanned-out pile of manila files. “Today’s selection – we’re picking blind.”
Three
Bank Robber
I have this knack for picking interesting cases, even blind. It makes up for my knack in picking the slowest checkout at every store I’ve ever been in.
What thrilled me the most about the case I pulled was that the last bank hold-up was about ten minutes away from my brand new, almost-finished house. Traffic was minimal so I figured a quick stop to see the progress wouldn’t hurt.
Later.
Work first.
I pulled into a parking lot outside the bank and took a moment to read the file I had with me. The robbery was the latest in a string of bank robberies across Northern Virginia. What was intriguing was the small amount of cash that was actually stolen at each bank. The main safes were on time locks and could not be opened. I had a feeling the robbers knew that.
