When we arrived at the ER, they rolled Mac down the hall. I'd taken her fanny pack, so I removed her insurance card and got her registered. They rolled her on to X-ray. I'll never tease her about the fanny pack again. I left the waiting room and stood in the hall to call Mom and Dad. I'd forgotten they were in Vegas. Neither answered the phone, but I left a voicemail. I looked up to see Mike, eyes wild, face flushed, running down the hall, carrying a sleeping Josh.
"What happened to MacKenzie? Where is she?" He was breathing hard and sweating.
"She's in X-ray. We were running past the park on the way to Josh's school and she was attacked." It had started to hit me that she could've been killed. Because of the case.
"Is she going to be okay?" He seemed to hold his breath.
"It looks like a broken arm. They'll be out once they finish the X-ray." My eyes had begun to burn. I looked away, then bit my lip.
"Syd? Where were you when this happened?" Mike stared at me accusingly.
"She ran ahead of me almost two blocks away, racing me...to the school."
"How could she be that far ahead?" He was frowning.
"I had a side stitch. I hadn't gone running for a while." I gave him a slight smile. "She's been practicing."
"But, why would someone do that to her? She wouldn't hurt anyone."
"I think it has something to do with my case." I shook my head at the expression in his eyes. "I'm sorry." I couldn't hold it in any longer. I started to cry.
He stared. "I'm sorry, too." He turned and went into the waiting room without looking back.
I went outside, got some air. I looked up at the stars and the half-moon, then stared at Mac’s fanny pack. "Please let her be okay. Please." I sat on the steps, off to the side. I wiped the now dried blood from my knee with a tissue from Mac's fanny pack. I called Bernie. He offered to come to the hospital, but I told him there wasn't anything he could do. He asked the usual questions about the type of bike, license plates, and if I got a look at the rider. I had nothing to give him. The rider had worn a full helmet, one that covered the face. I did notice that, but it wouldn't help with identification. I hadn't seen the color of the bike...again. I told Bernie the location of the attack and asked if he could stop by and look around. I'd like to know if he found Scrabble letters. Someone from the department would take Mac's report when she was able to give it. I doubted that it would be tonight. She'd been out of it by the time they'd taken her to X-ray. It had happened so fast and it was dark. The details would be sketchy.
"Syd? Are you out here?" Mike came down the steps.
I wiped my tears with the headband I'd used on Mac and cleared my throat. "I'm here." I stood and limped to him, feeling defeated.
"I'm sorry I said that." He bowed his head, and then looked me in the eye. "You're not responsible for what other people do."
"It's okay, Mike." I watched Josh, hair tousled, still sleeping peacefully. He wore pajamas and slippers with dinosaurs on them. The slippers lit up with red and blue lights whenever one of his feet moved. I envied him. "Have you heard anything about Mac yet?"
"She came from X-ray a little while ago. She won't need surgery. Thank God." He scratched his nose, awkwardly, since he still held Josh. "They're setting it now. I've got to sit down. He's not as small as he used to be." He turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder. "They said she can go home tonight."
"Mike, if there's anything she needs, or anything you or Josh need, give me a call." I followed him. "Wait. I still don't have a car. Can I ride home with you and borrow Mac's car again tonight?"
"Sure." He smiled, relieved that the love of his life would be okay. That made two of us.
It was after midnight by the time they discharged Mac. I waited with her on the sidewalk while Mike took Josh and went to bring the car around. She looked tired, but not in pain as she stared up at me from her wheelchair.
"So, what about the date?" She gave me a slight smile. Maybe it was the glare of the parking lot lights, but dark circles shadowed her eyes and her rosy complexion was now pale.
"You should be resting. I'll tell you about it tomorrow."
"You promised."
I nodded. "The date was fine. He gave me his personal email address and cell number." I shrugged.
"Are you going to call?"
"I think so."
She smiled, but her eyelids stayed closed longer than normal, before they fluttered open. "Good." She reached for my hand, held it.
Mike pulled up to the curb. He jumped from the car and helped Mac up from the wheelchair and into the passenger seat. She was awkward with the full-arm cast and the shoulder sling. While Mike buckled her in, I pushed the wheelchair back inside, then limped around the car and buckled myself in next to a sleeping Josh. I leaned my head back on the seat and thought about what I would've done if I'd lost my sister tonight.
Chapter Sixteen
Bernie had called me when I arrived home. He'd found a Ziploc bag with a Scrabble letter in it. An 'H'. Maybe the attacker didn't think Mac was worth more than one letter. Or was it a warning that she could be attacked again? Thinking about it, I wasn't sure he meant to kill Mac. She could've been hit more than once since I was still a block away. I'd had my back-up pistol, but wouldn't have dared use it for fear of hitting Mac. I wondered if the attack would have happened if I hadn't been there. Or maybe the attacker would have killed her if I hadn't been there. I didn't want to think about it.
After a quick shower, I sprayed my throbbing knee with Bactine and put an ice pack on it. Note to self: get more ice packs. I pulled on an oversized T-shirt, then crawled into bed. I was glad Mac had survived, but now I worried about my family. They were targets. We needed to figure this out. Soon. What was the connection? I drifted off to sleep thinking about it.
The next morning, although still in pain and limping, I was ready to get to work. I devoured two bowls of oatmeal and peaches, then grabbed my jacket and headed to Mac's car. I still hadn't heard from my parents. They could be at shows or shopping, and forgot to check their voicemail. It was early, so I decided to call them later.
Before driving off, I'd turned on the speaker to my cell phone and called Mac to check on her. Mike answered and said she was sleeping and she'd had a decent night. He also told me Mom and Dad had called. They'd gotten my message and called Mac, but Mike had answered. He'd told them she was doing okay. He was taking time off from work to care for Josh and Mac. He couldn't talk to me long because he had to get Josh dressed and fed. He said he'd let Mac know I'd called and he didn't sound mad at me anymore. I turned on the radio and drove to the station, feeling better about Mac's recovery.
I strode into the squad room and smelled vanilla, chocolate, fat, and sugar. That meant one thing. Doughnuts. I followed my nose. Pink boxes had been piled onto a table near the coffee station. I went to the table, pulled the tape from a box and lifted the flap. Glazed, chocolate frosting, and chocolate custard—one of my favorites—called my name. Nice assortment. I grabbed a chocolate custard and went to my cubicle. I took a bite, then laid it on a napkin. I returned to the coffee station and made green tea in my mug, the one with a picture of Josh wearing a puppy costume.
"Hi, Syd." Bernie came toward me carrying a San Diego Chargers mug. "How's Mac?" He poured decaf coffee, removed a long braided glazed doughnut and bit into it, taking off about a third.
I sipped my tea. "I haven't talked to her, but Mike told me she was okay."
He chomped on his doughnut. "Is she in a lot of pain?"
"She was still asleep, so maybe not." I peered at Bernie over the rim of my mug. "We've got to solve this case."
He nodded. "That reminds me. I got a message from Cynthia. She wanted to know if there's been progress."
"Did you talk to her yet?"
"Not yet, no. There hasn't been much progress since Ann. Not by us, anyway. That's not what she wants to hear."
"Nobody does. Remember, we planned to see Tenley's wife again." My phone rang. "It's Mike." Bernie
went to his desk.
"Hi, Mike."
"Syd, I forgot to tell you what Mac said last night before she fell asleep."
"What did she say?"
"She thought the motorcycle was burgundy. She wasn't positive, but she seemed pretty sure."
"This could help us."
"Yeah? Maybe she'll remember more." I heard a crash coming from his end, then Josh crying. "Syd, I've got to go. Josh just spilled his juice on the floor."
"Thanks, Mike. I'll be over after work. My car should be ready by then." I turned around to find Bernie staring at me.
"Well?"
"Mac thinks the bike was burgundy." I couldn't hold back a smile. "I wonder how she was able to see in the dark."
"There was enough light from the post there for me to find the Scrabble letter. Anyway, burgundy is almost red." Bernie grinned. "What a coincidence. We were about to go talk to Tenley's wife anyway."
"So, our next step is to find out where she was last night between 8:30 and 9."
"Let's go ask her."
"Wait." I stuck out a hand to block him. "What's her motive? I could understand her going after Menifee, but not the others."
"We need to find out if she was even there, first." He walked through the door, taking long strides.
"Right." I hurried to catch up, then remembered my doughnut. I raced back, took a sip of tea, and snatched the doughnut off my desk. I met Bernie at the car. He was already in the driver's seat with the engine and A/C running.
"I was talking to you, then turned around and you weren't there." He stared at my doughnut. "Oh."
"Don't even think about asking. You already had one." I leaned away from him and took a bite.
"Wait right here." Bernie jumped from the car, leaving it idling. He returned with a chocolate frosted doughnut.
"You're unbelievable." I shook my head.
"Well, let's just say I'm doing my part to live up to the doughnut-eating cop cliché."
"Do I need to hold an intervention?"
He choked on his doughnut. "I'm not that bad." He swallowed, then took another bite and frowned. "Am I?" He gazed at me.
I made a serious face and turned toward him. No smirking. "You have to decide that for yourself. Don't they say the first step to getting help is to admit you have a problem?"
"I don't have a problem." He was still frowning.
"See there? You're not ready to admit it yet so there's nothing anybody can do to help you."
He still had a serious look on his face. "What's wrong with having an extra doughnut from time to time?"
I couldn't hold it in anymore and doubled over laughing. "Just drive."
We arrived at Tenley's apartment complex in forty-five minutes. The red motorcycle was in the lot. We continued to their apartment building. I knocked and the door opened, more quietly than before. Somebody's been using WD-40.
"Well, if it ain't Detective Cupid and her partner." Tenley leaned on the doorframe, grinning. He'd colored the lower half of his blonde free-form dreadlocks auburn. It looked hideous. I wondered what he'd been thinking, then I realized he didn't think.
"Detective Valentine and Detective Bernard." Bernie showed his ID. "May we speak with you and Josie?"
"She ain't here." He leered at me. "But, I's free for Detective Valentine."
"Where is she?" Bernie asked.
"Supposed to be working." He shrugged.
"How did she get to work? The motorcycle’s here," I said.
"She park here since we have space, then she walk the rest. She trying to lose her baby weight." Tenley scanned me up and down, licked his chapped lips. "She ain't in shape like you, slim."
"Do you ever use her bike?" Bernie asked.
"Yup. Sure do." He patted his flat abs. "I ain't got no fat on me. No need to walk if I got me a ride."
I rolled my eyes. "Where were you last night, Tenley?"
He blinked. "What time that be?"
"How about from eight until nine o'clock?" I had started writing in my notebook.
He scratched his chin, gazed at the sky. "Hmm. Let me think." I hoped he didn't hurt himself, because I doubted that he did much thinking unless it was about where to score booze or weed. "I was here, then I left about 7:30. Maybe. Yeah, I think so."
"Was anyone with you?" Bernie asked.
"Nah. Nobody." He stared at Bernie. "Why you ask?"
"Where did you go?" I asked.
"Grocery store." His brow furrowed. "Why you asking me about last night?"
"How did you get to the store?" I asked.
"The bike." Tenley chewed his lip.
"What did you buy at the store? Do you have a receipt?" Bernie asked.
"Whoa, now. A receipt?" He stepped back, frowning. "Do I need a lawyer?"
"If you want. You can call him from the station," I said.
He sighed and studied his shoes. "The receipt might be in the grocery bag. Be right back." He went inside, closed the door.
"What do you think about his story?" I asked.
"I don't think he's smart enough or sober enough to be committing these murders." He shook his head. "No way."
"Whether he comes back with receipts or not, we've got to interview the wife at work."
"He couldn't have made it to where you and Mac were if he was at the store when he said he was," Bernie said.
"Right."
The door opened and Tenley held a food splattered slip of paper in his grimy hands. I'm glad he handed it to Bernie because I didn't want to touch it.
"This is all I could find," Tenley said.
"Hold on." Bernie pulled out a pair of disposable gloves and tugged them on before taking the receipt. "The date was yesterday and the time was 7:45 last night." He dropped it inside the evidence bag I’d given him. "It's a stretch, but he could've made it."
I shrugged. "Thanks, Tenley." We started down the stairs.
"Wait, Tenley." Bernie turned. "You said Josie had a baby."
"Uh, huh." He nodded.
"How old is the baby?" Bernie headed back up.
"Ricky three now, maybe four." He lifted a bony shoulder.
"Where's Ricky?" I asked.
"CPS took him."
"Why?" Bernie asked.
"They say Josie was getting high and not taking care of Ricky." He watched both of us. "And they right."
"Who's Ricky's father?" I asked.
"Josie say she hooked up with some white dude at a bar. One night stand."
"Okay. That's all I have. Bernie?"
"That's it for me. Thanks, Tenley."
We walked past Tenley's parking spot and the motorcycle was gone.
"What the hell?" I spun and headed back to Tenley's apartment. Bernie followed.
Bernie banged on the door. It opened, once again.
"Oh, no. Now what?" Tenley stood there, arms crossed.
"The motorcycle is gone. Who rides it besides you and Josie?" Bernie pulled his notebook from his pocket.
"My wife rides it, too."
"No, Tenley. He wants to know who else rides it besides you and Josie," I said.
"I don't get it," Tenley frowned. "I told you my wife rides it." Bernie and I stared at one another.
"Tenley, what's your wife's name?" I asked.
"Veronica."
Damnit. "Where is she now?"
"She working." He rolled his eyes. "At The Food Shop."
"Then who's Josie?" Bernie asked.
"Oh, she a friend." He lifted his shoulders.
"A friend of yours and Veronica's or just yours?" I asked.
"Both. She our friend."
"Wait a minute. When we were here before, Josie said it was her bike," I said.
"It is her bike. We all ride it." He shook his head. "You understand now?"
Bernie stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You are married to Veronica. Josie is your friend and Veronica's friend. Correct?"
"Yep." Tenley nodded.
"And the bike belongs to Josie, but you an
d Veronica also ride it."
"True." Tenley sighed. "Is that all?"
"Sure," Bernie said. We went back to our car.
"What a mess." I sat in the driver's seat. "I can't decide whether that was a huge waste of time or not."
"Well, we found out that Josie wasn't his wife, like we thought." He sighed. "What happened to the public records check on his marriage?"
"It's not back yet. I have to say, it played like she was his wife when we talked to them the first time we were here." I cranked up the A/C. "Maybe Josie's performance was all for show for your benefit."
"Maybe. Now what? The Food Shop?"
"Here we go." I rolled out of the parking lot. The Food Shop was a few blocks away.
We entered The Food Shop and asked for the manager. His name was Mr. Thomas. We introduced ourselves and he told us Veronica was on a break. He pointed her out to us. She wore black slacks and a white shirt. We'd passed her when we went in. She was outside smoking. She was a statuesque, late 20's Latina with dark brown wavy hair pulled into a ponytail. She looked to be six feet tall—with wide shoulders—like she lifted weights. Fit.
Bernie approached her first. "Veronica Tenley?"
"Yes? Who are you?" She dropped her cigarette on the sidewalk and ground it out with more force than was necessary. We showed her our IDs.
"I'm Detective Valentine and this is Detective Bernard," I said. "We're investigating a series of homicides."
She jerked her head back and gasped. "Homicides? What does that have to do with me?"
"Where were you last night between 8:30 and 9 o'clock?" Bernie asked.
"Here. Working." She'd planted her hands on her hips. She turned her wrist up, glanced at her watch.
"We'll check with Mr. Thomas about that," Bernie said.
"Okay. Do what you want." She made a point of looking at her watch again. "My break's over."
Sydney Valentine Mystery Series: Books 1-3 (Boxed Set) (A Sydney Valentine Mystery) Page 12
