Baylin House (Cassandra Crowley Mystery)

by L. J. Parker

  “I heard a really loud bang, like a giant firecracker, and right away I was air born off the pavement and rolling in a gulley.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  It was after three o’clock when Cassie headed down the long shell-gravel drive toward the County road. When she was sure no one could see her, she stopped to dial Rob’s cell phone.

  “You finally ready to take a break?” he asked.

  “Not exactly. I need to talk to you about something important.”

  “Want me to come over there?”

  “No, that’s part of what I have to tell you. I’m not in Cordell Bay right now. I’ll be th--”

  “What do you mean you’re not in Cordell Bay? Did you go back to Las Vegas?”

  “No, I’m still in Texas. I drove up to Victoria.”

  “You what?” Rob’s voice boomed so loud Cassie had to pull the phone away.

  “I . . . need . . . you . . . to . . . let . . . me . . . talk!” she shouted back with the phone several inches from her face. “Can . . . you . . . do . . . that?”

  She brought the phone back to her ear and listened. Silence.

  “Can I talk now?”

  “I’m listening.” His volume was controlled, but his tone was razor sharp.

  “Sydney Owen was in a car accident on her way up here to visit her parents. I’ve spent the afternoon here with her.”

  Still quiet on the other end. “Rob, are you there?”

  “Yes. I know about Sydney Owen’s car accident. It was a one-car roll-over caused by a blown tire. What else?”

  Cassie bit her lip to remain calm no matter how much she wanted to rip off his head for what he didn’t bother to tell her.

  “It wasn’t just a blow-out, Detective Baxter. Sydney told me about a deep firecracker bang just before the car rolled. It didn’t skid to the side like a normal blowout, it immediately flew off the pavement. I’m asking you . . . begging you . . . please have that wheel looked at for the same gunk that blew up my apartment.”

  Silence again. Damn him!

  Tears of frustration clouded her eyes; she was convinced she was right. Fozzi, or someone, had tried to kill Sydney Owen! She swallowed hard to clear her voice of the frustration clawing at her throat.

  “Rob?”

  His tone coldly underlined the new distance between them. “I’ll look into it. Let me know if you decide to come back to Cordell County.”

  “I’m on my way now,” she said into the phone.

  He didn’t say anything, but it was several long beats before she heard the phone disconnect.

  Chapter Forty

  Rob must have been waiting in the parking lot when Cassie drove in.

  She had barely gotten inside and turned on a couple lights when she heard a knock at the door. She peeked through the curtains.

  He stepped back a pace and waved at the sliver of opening. He was carrying a large bag of something.

  When Cassie opened the door he said, “You need to eat tonight and I don’t want you going anywhere, so I brought dinner.”

  She moved to make room for him to come in.

  “You want a soda or anything? How about your ice tub . . . I’ll refill it for you.”

  It was a start. Cassie was determined not to let him off that easy, but she didn’t want to tease the scorpion. She waited until they sat calmly at the table with several open Chinese food containers between them.

  She spoke while she dipped an egg roll in sweet and sour sauce. “Will the Victoria authorities take the time to check Sydney’s wheel?”

  “They did. They’re sending a sample to our CSI for comparison.”

  The confirmation almost ruined her appetite. She lay the egg roll down and stared at it.

  Rod reached across the table and touched her arm. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how else to convince you to stay where you’re safe.”

  Cassie gave a conciliatory nod. “Have you talked to Fozzi about anything?”

  “Gorduno’s looking for him. Fozzi clocked in at the city yesterday morning, but didn’t come back to clock out. His wife said he didn’t come home last night.”

  Cassie twirled her fork in the well of noodles without picking anything up. She could give him the photocopies from Skolnik’s office right now, but instinct waved a parade of red flags against it. Fozzi’s payroll connection didn’t prove anything by itself, and admitting to Rob that she had been inside Skolnik’s office yesterday would probably land her in jail.

  “Can I ask you about something else?”

  Rob frowned. “What else?”

  “Who decided to arrest Brady Irwin on a murder charge?”

  “Brady Irwin was never under arrest for anything.”

  Cassie put her fork down. “He called Bea Morgan from the jail.”

  “I know he called from the jail, I was with him. But he was not under arrest.”

  “Then why did--?”

  Rob’s cell phone chirped, interrupting Cassie’s question. He tipped the thing up and read the text display. “I have to go,” he said, rising to his feet quickly, already heading for the door. “Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Seconds later she heard the Expedition’s engine rumble to life, and then fade as he drove out of the parking area.

  ***

  Cassie had no idea what time it was when she heard knocking and opened her eyes. The lamp over the table and the TV were still on. The bedspread was shoved to the floor between the bed and the wall; she was still dressed and the computer was open beside her on the blanket. The screen was black. She hadn’t plugged it in when she sat down; the battery must have completely run out.

  The digital clock on the TV glowed 12:57am. She peered through the drapes to see who was at the door. Rob stepped back again to make sure she could see him.

  Cassie opened the door for him to come in, and then gathered the computer and the few papers scattered next to it, moving them to the table to attach the power cord.

  “You need that now?” he asked.

  “No, but I dozed off and the battery died. It takes hours to recharge.” She leaned down behind the chair where he sat earlier, and shoved the plug into the wall.

  When she stood back up, he was standing so close she couldn’t move. She felt his hand at the back of her head, long fingers inching downward slowly to rest against the nape of her neck. The effect was dreamily sensual until she realized it wasn’t a romantic caress; he was smoothing a knot of bedhead hair.

  “You need to sleep,” he said in a low voice, his hand still warm on the back of her neck. “It’s the middle of the night, but I told you I’d come back as soon as I could.” His breath smelled of wintergreen.

  Cassie hated to think what her breath smelled like after Chinese food and a couple hours nap; her mouth tasted like a garbage can. She tilted her head down to avoid breathing in his face. “I need a minute in the bathroom, okay?”

  He stepped sideways to let her pass, but he didn’t remove his hand from her neck until she walked out from under it.

  “Don’t leave,” she commanded as she reached the bathroom door.

  “Not a chance,” he called back. “I can’t trust leaving you alone unless you’re in handcuffs.”

  She closed the bathroom door and hurried with what she needed to do, ready to challenge a remark like that.

  But when she came out, he was standing next to the table, remote control in hand, frowning at something on TV.

  “What?” she said, glancing toward the screen.

  “It was a replay of the Eleven O’clock News.” He pushed the button to turn the sound on mute, and pointed his chin toward the head of the bed. “You need to scoot up there and go back to sleep.” Then he removed his notebook and ballpoint from his pocket, shifted his gun holster under his jacket, and sat down in the chair next to the wall.

  Cassie was too wired to go back to sleep with him sitting there. She sat on the edge of the bed. “How long are you going to sit there?”
/>
  “As long as it takes.”

  For what, she wanted to ask, but she was afraid the answer would be for Cassie to go home to Las Vegas.

  “We still need to talk about Brady Irwin,” she reminded him.

  “Like I told you, he’s just helping us.”

  “The Strickland & Yates lawyer who called Baylin House said Brady needed legal help.”

  Rob shrugged. “Ambulance chasers hang around the jail, we can’t do anything about that, but I promise you Brady was just fine. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Actually I do. They convinced Rosalie to sign a contract for services, and filed a lien on her property for the fee.

  Rob’s eyebrows lifted.

  “I went to the County Recorder and got a copy after it was filed. That’s also how I found out what happened to Sydney Owen, from a girl in the Recorder’s office.”

  Just from the look on his face, she expected another blowup. She waited for it, watched his temples moving, the tendons in his neck flex, but all he said was, “You need to roll over and go to sleep.”

  He turned off the lamp and scooted down in the chair, leaning his head against the wall, his face to the window. The only light in the room came from the television with the sound on mute.

  Cassie lay her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, listening to him breathe, listening to her own heartbeats, waiting for the steady cadence to lull her brain out of action.

  It didn’t work.

  “I can’t sleep with you sitting there, so you might as well talk to me. How did Brady Irwin’s name land in your little notebook in the first place?”

  “We found his wallet on the body.”

  “Skolnik had Brady’s wallet?”

  “Brady thinks he lost it on the bus he rides home from work. Skolnik probably got it from somebody who found it.”

  Cassie kicked that around her imagination for a moment. From what she knew about Skolnik now, she suspected he stole it from Brady and knew exactly what he was doing.

  “So from the wallet, Brady became a suspect, and that’s why you came to Baylin House last week?”

  “Close enough.”

  “And then you needed his help night before last . . . you got him out of bed and took him to the jail . . . and let him call Baylin House from there?”

  Rob grunted a short laugh, and nodded slowly. “We picked up a homeless guy in the old neighborhood who admits to fighting with Skolnik Sunday evening. We wanted to see if Brady knew him from anywhere. He just wanted to call somebody and brag a little. That’s all there was to it.”

  “Brady wanted to brag about being in the jail?”

  “We gave him one of the plastic badges we hand out to school kids that come on field trips.”

  Cassie thought about how totally logical that sounded. Anticlimactic, really. “That’s all?”

  “Yeah, that’s all. An hour later I drove him home and made sure he was safe inside before I left. End of story.”

  Cassie lay still with her thoughts for a few beats. Of course, that would have been exciting for Brady. And, it was just as logical that Bea misunderstood the late night phone call from him.

  “So you confirmed Brady didn’t know the homeless guy?”

  “Yeah. Dozey’s an old Vietnam Vet who’s been off the grid more years than he can count.”

  “Dozey is the homeless man . . .?”

  “That’s his neighborhood name. He’s known to drift in and out of the past according to which way the breeze is blowing. Even if they didn’t believe him, it would be hard for the DA’s office to prove he wasn’t provoked into defending himself like he says.”

  Rob shifted farther to stretch one long leg across the floor, and prop the other foot on the empty chair. Cassie caught a glimpse of something metallic under his shoe reflecting light from the TV, but her gaze returned quickly to his face, listening to him.

  “Word is, Skolnik was hanging around the neighborhood a while, talking to different ones like he was a contractor looking to hire a helper. When he got around to Dozey, he just wanted to trade the wallet for Dozey’s dog tag.”

  “Military ID dog tag? What could he want with that?”

  “Hard to say. Dozey admits he doesn’t like to be touched, so when Skolnik tried to grab at him, Dozey hit him, hard. Last he remembers is Skolnik wandering off toward the QuickStop Market.”

  “And then somebody else killed him?”

  Rob shook his head. “Dozey showed us how he fought back, and he definitely could have blown Skolnik’s spleen with that punch. If he was in Special Forces like he says, that’s what he was trained to do, to guarantee a kill. It would have been instinctive reaction for him. He didn’t have to do it on purpose”

  “But the body was in the trunk of the car . . .”

  “All the evidence says he climbed in on his own. We know he left the car unlocked when he parked it behind the store, probably because it was hotwired and there were no keys--”

  “So Skolnik actually stole the car in the first place,” Cassie tested. It was a relief to have that in the open without her admitting she visited Delona Zimmer.

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “So why climb into the trunk? You think he was afraid Dozey would come looking for him?”

  “More likely he came back to the car, found out somebody locked it on him, and he smashed the trunk lock to lay down in there and wait for morning.”

  “And died in there before morning . . ?”

  “Yeah, he did.” Rob leaned over and picked up the TV remote. “Now you know as much as I do about it. Close your eyes and get some sleep.”

  He flipped through a few channels and landed on an old Bonanza rerun.

  It wasn’t easy, but eventually Cassie did nod off.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Cassie opened her eyes to flashing primary colors; a Sunday Morning Cartoon was on TV.

  Rob must have taken the extra pillow sometime after she fell asleep; it was stuffed behind his head where he slid down in the chair, still with one long leg across the floor, the other foot in the empty chair. He looked so uncomfortable she was tempted to wake him.

  Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the dresser and thought better of it. Moving as quietly as she could, she slid toward the other side of the bed where she could get to the bathroom easily.

  Her feet had barely hit the floor when there was a loud knock on the door. Cassie spun around, but Rob was already on his feet. He grimaced when he took a step, but he was at the door with his gun in his hand before she knew what to do next.

  He bent to look through the peephole. Then he calmly put the gun away and opened the door.

  Cassie stood with her mouth agape watching Detective Gorduno step over the threshold carrying a large box clearly labeled The Baileys. Then she hurriedly backed into the bathroom and closed the door.

  She really wanted a shower and a change of clothes, but settled for quick attention with a washrag, toothbrush, and wet fingers to push her hair into something less frightening.

  When she came out of the bathroom, Gorduno and Rob were at the table with three giant coffees from The Baileys coffee shop, and an open box of pastries.

  “She’s awake!” Rob teased. Cassie could tell his smile was forced. Gorduno did not look so happy about it.

  She sat on the side of the bed next to the table, and accepted the oversize coffee Rob pushed toward her. “Thanks,” she said, making eye contact with Gorduno. The older man nodded, and looked to Rob.

  “You need to hear this,” Rob told her. Then he urged Gorduno with a look.

  “I’ve got Fozzi’s background info,” Detective Gorduno said. “It still leaves questions about how he landed the job here in Cordell Bay, but it’s clear he was connected as a minor thug in a couple different rackets in the northern states. Scuttlebutt has him picked up running numbers before he was out of junior high school. Later he did a stint in Federal lockup – that’s where he celebrated his 21st bi
rthday. He was still on parole when he found a job with a construction company, and for a few years they thought he kept himself clean.”

  “Construction would be where he learned enough to think he could handle explosives,” Rob offered.

  “Could be,” Gorduno agreed. “A couple years ago he was picked up with a group running small time cons on Atlantic City tourists. They couldn’t make a case on him so they let him go. He was off the radar again until he came after you and Sydney Owen last week.”

  Cassie took all that in without interruption. When it was clear Gorduno had nothing else to add, she said, “It would be interesting to know if Atlantic City is where he met his wife.”

  Then she told them about Sydney Owen’s suspicion, that Fozzi was married to a Thornton-slash-Cozier, which got him the job at the Health Department, and he used that badge to help drive Baylin House into the ground for his in-laws to get the land cheap. “Sydney thinks they want to clear the whole block and build another apartment complex like Bayside View.”

  She didn’t mention her suspicion that Margaret Goodman and her CPA Thornton were working together to drain Baylin House funds for the same purpose. She was afraid it would look like a witch-hunt. She already had more to tell, and they weren’t going to like it.

  “Your dead guy Skolnik was probably involved too,” she suggested.

  Rob’s gaze flitted sideways at Gorduno. His expression said he wasn’t comfortable with her revealing what he told her last night.

  “What about Skolnik?” Gorduno asked.

  Cassie dug the folded photocopy of Fozzi’s paychecks from her purse and opened the paper on the table. “Please don’t ask me where I got this.”

  Gorduno glanced at Rob, and then inspected the photocopy while Cassie attempted to lay out a theory.

  “Thornton wants the Baylin House property, so Thornton’s son-in-law Fozzi, who works for Skolnik, steals the wallet from Brady Irwin and somehow plants it on Skolnik, and--”

  She stopped and took a sip of coffee to stall. She was about to say ‘and Skolnik tried to unload it on the homeless man, but that didn’t make sense when she thought it out that far.