by Diane Kelly
“Good idea.” Of course many grocery stores and dollar stores also sold balloons and gift bags, but it was worth a shot.
I pulled out my phone and searched for party-supply stores in Fort Worth. A map popped up showing a dozen or so spread throughout the city. Only one was close to where we now sat. The Par-T Corral. I vaguely remembered the place. My mother had taken all of us kids there to pick out Halloween costumes years ago. I’d chosen a black cat costume. Ironic for a girl who’d later become a K-9 officer, huh?
I aimed the squad car for the Par-T Corral, which, like many businesses in Fort Worth, was western-themed. The days of cattle drives might be long gone, but the city would forever retain its nickname of Cowtown and the cowboy culture that came along with it.
The store sat at the end of a strip center that contained several mom-and-pop type businesses. A bicycle shop. A florist. A small sushi bar. Bells hanging from the door tinkled as I led Brigit inside with me. She stopped to sniff the back end of a colorful donkey-shaped piñata standing near the door. Maybe I’d spoken too soon about how smart my partner is.
We made our way past a display of greeting cards to the front counter where a woman with spiky orange hair flitted about, snipping strands of curling ribbon. She looked up as we approached. “Why hello, puppy!” she called to Brigit. “Aren’t you a furry girl?”
My partner wagged her tail as if to say, Why yes, I am quite furry, thank you for noticing.
As I said hello to the woman, I noticed both the large tank of helium situated behind the counter and the security camera mounted on the wall. “I’m trying to track down a blond woman who bought a bunch of red helium balloons yesterday. Any chance you might be able to help me?”
The woman set the scissors down. “I’ll do my best. I didn’t work yesterday but I can search the system and see what I can find out.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
The woman punched some buttons on her computerized cash register, opened a notebook on the counter, and used a handheld scanner to scan the bar code assigned to red balloons. When she was done with the notebook, she jabbed a final button on the machine. “Nothing’s coming up,” she said. “Is it possible they were purchased the day before?”
I supposed it was possible, though helium balloons tended to lose their buoyancy fairly quickly. I doubted they were purchased any earlier than two days ago.
The woman jabbed a few more buttons. “Nope. We’ve sold a solid blue bunch and several mixed, but none that were red only.”
Dang.
She closed the notebook. “We sell helium canisters, too,” she said. “Some people fill the balloons themselves to save a little money.”
“Can you see if anyone bought a canister along with red balloons?” I asked. “They probably would have been purchased some time in the last week.” I doubted Adriana would have planned any sooner. I assumed that if she was behind the attempt to access Ryan’s apartment, she’d done so to retaliate against him for breaking her window. But who knows.
The woman jabbed some more buttons. “Looks like we sold a helium canister and some red balloons last Friday.”
“How were they paid for?”
“Cash,” she replied.
Cash. The preferred monetary medium of criminals. Illegal tender. “Did the person buy anything else?”
She glanced back at her screen. “Yep. Looks like they also purchased one of those bracelet tattoos. They’re popular with the teen girls.” She gestured to an aisle nearby. “They’re right down there if you want to take a look.”
“I do.”
She circled around the counter and led me down an aisle of party favors. Plastic beads. Bouncy balls. Party blowers. “Here we go.” She gestured to a display of temporary bracelet tattoos. The selections included skulls, shamrocks, a chain of daisies, and one with red hearts. Bingo! I plucked the package with the red heart tattoo from the display. “Is this the one that was purchased?”
“Mm-hm. The ‘Circle of Hearts.’”
I was so close now. Whoever had been at Ryan’s apartment had to be the same person who’d purchased these items. It was too much to write off as mere coincidence.
I looked back at the register, again noting the security camera mounted over the checkout area. If Adriana appeared in the video like I suspected she might, I’d finally have some solid evidence instead of what I had so far, which was diddly-squat. This case could soon be resolved! Woo-hoo!
Brigit looked up at me as if she could smell my excitement. Heck, she probably could. I briefly wondered what excitement might smell like. Cherries, I decided. Or maybe buttercream frosting.
I turned back to the woman and gestured to the security camera on the wall. “Can you show me the video footage from the time the purchase was made?”
The woman glanced back at the camera, then up and down the aisle before leaning in to whisper to me. “Sorry, but I can’t. The camera’s a fake. We installed it as a preventive measure. The real ones cost too much.”
Ugh! “Are there any cameras outside?”
She shook her head. “We’ve got an alarm system, though.”
While an alarm might do them some good if anyone attempted to break into the store, it did absolutely nothing for my investigation, unfortunately.
The three of us returned to the register where I paid the woman for the bracelet tattoo and thanked her for her time.
“You want a copy of the receipt for the balloons and the helium?” she asked.
“That would be great.”
She printed it out and handed it to me. “Have a nice day, Officer.”
“You, too.” With that, Brigit and I exited the store, the bells on the door tinkling behind us. I glanced around outside only to confirm that the woman was right. There were no cameras mounted on the exterior. The bicycle shop next door was closed, but when I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered through the glass I saw no cameras in the shop that might have been aimed at the window and picked up the license plate of the person who’d bought the helium, balloons, and bracelet. I sighed. Oh, well. It had been a long shot, anyway.
As I climbed back into the cruiser, the leasing agent called. “What did you find out?” I asked.
“We have two male tenants with birthdays this week,” she said. “One is on Thursday and the other was this past Sunday. But nobody had a birthday yesterday.”
This information confirmed that the woman who’d come to the complex yesterday had indeed had suspicious intentions. The only other question was whether that woman was Adriana or someone else Ryan knew. Had the guy left a string of broken hearts like Adriana claimed? Was the blond guise some type of sexual role play? Could the blonde have been someone from his comics convention circles? Or a hooker?
I dialed Ryan’s cell phone. He answered on the fifth ring. “Give me a second,” he said after I identified myself. “I’m doing an install and I’ll need to go out to my truck so we can talk in private.”
I held on for a minute or two, listening to the sounds of the phone being jostled about until finally I heard the slam of a vehicle’s door being closed. Ryan returned to the line. “What did you find out?” he asked.
“The leasing agent didn’t get a good look at the woman, either,” I told him. “But she did tell me that none of the male tenants had a birthday yesterday. I was able to confirm where the balloons were sold, but they were paid for in cash and there’s no security-camera footage to show who made the purchase.”
“Dammit!” His words were followed by a muffled sound, as if he’d pounded a fist on his dash. “So you’re not gonna arrest her, are you?”
It was more an accusation than a question. His kazoo voice had become high and he sounded a little fearful. I felt a twinge of guilt. After all, if this woman had already clawed at his throat and was now trying to get into his apartment, who knew what she might be capable of? Then again, maybe Ryan was trying to frame Adriana. Maybe she’d broken his heart and he’d set this whole thing up as a
ploy to get her in trouble. Maybe Danielle wasn’t the only girl he was involved with. Again, I wondered if maybe one of those women from the comic book conventions had agreed to do some nonsexual role play for him. Maybe, maybe, maybe. There were far too many maybes. What I wanted—what I needed—were some certainties.
“Without a positive identification or more evidence, I can’t take Adriana into custody,” I told Ryan. “But I’ve got all the officers in W1 keeping a close watch on both her house and your apartment. We’ll do our best to keep you safe.”
He snorted. “Famous last words.”
I put two fingers to my forehead to keep my head from exploding. “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry we can’t seem to get this resolved.”
“You and me both.”
We ended the call and I sat back in my seat. What now? I decided to call Bustamente with another update and seek his advice.
“Go see Miss Valdez,” he suggested after I’d gotten him up to speed. “Show her the receipt and see if you can get a confession out of her. Be sure to show some empathy. She’s more likely to spill the beans if she thinks you can understand where she’s coming from.”
“Will do. Thanks.” As soon as I hung up on the detective, I called Adriana’s cell phone. “There’s been a development in the case. Can I swing by the rehab center and speak with you?”
She hesitated a moment. “Could we meet at my house during my lunch break? If you come to the center it’ll only feed the gossip mill.”
I agreed to meet her at her house at twelve-fifteen. That gave me an hour to serve and protect the other residents of W1. Also the opportunity to write one of them a ticket for driving fifty-eight miles per hour in a thirty-mph zone.
The guy tried to talk me out of it. “Can’t you just give me a warning?” He smiled up at me as if he thought he was so charming I’d change my mind. “I promise I’ll be good.”
“Warnings are for minor offenses,” I told him. “You were going nearly double the speed limit. Near the zoo no less. There’s kids and families out here. You could’ve killed or seriously injured someone.”
He snatched the ticket from my hand. “You don’t have to be so melodramatic.”
And you don’t have to be such an ass.
After a quick lunch of kale salad and kibble—I had the salad, Brigit had the kibble—my partner and I drove to Adriana’s house to wait for her. She pulled into her driveway at eight minutes after noon. Can’t beat that commute.
I let Brigit out of our cruiser, not bothering to leash her. Adriana could deal with a police K-9 in her yard. While my partner trotted over to the porch to see if her possum friend was around, I met Adriana on the drive, whipped out the receipt, and held it out to her. “What can you tell me about this?”
She looked down at the receipt but didn’t reach for it. “What is it?”
“A receipt from the Par-T Corral. For helium, red balloons, and a temporary tattoo.”
“I’m totally confused.” She lifted her head and looked at my left temple. “What does that receipt have to do with me? Does this have something to do with the ‘false pretenses’ you mentioned yesterday?”
For better or worse, officers are allowed to mislead witnesses during questioning if doing so could lead to evidence. I decided to go that route. “Come on, Adriana. The store has a video camera over the register that recorded the sale. The management is getting the footage ready to send me. If you’re going to show up in the video, you’re much better off coming clean with me right now. We might be able to work out a deal.” I stared her down, willing her to confess.
Her mouth gaped. “You think I bought balloons? And helium? And that I did something with them? Something bad?”
“I think it’s possible.”
For the first time since I’d met her, I saw real, raw emotion. Tears began to well up in her eyes and her shoulders slumped inward. A fresh twinge of guilt puckered my gut. I hadn’t done a good job of showing empathy, had I? And I might have just accused an innocent woman. Ugh!
“Look, Adriana,” I said softly. “No one could blame you for being upset. Ryan hurt you, didn’t he? It would only be natural to want to get back at him. Or maybe to try to force him into a conversation.”
She slowly shook her head. “Whoever it was, whatever they did, it wasn’t me. And knowing you think I could have … I feel so…” She continued to shake her head, as if waiting for the right word to shake out and fall into place. “Wounded,” she said finally.
On hearing the word, I felt as if I’d been sucker-punched in the belly. It hadn’t been her, had it? I’d been wrong to think so.
She blinked back the tears.
“Look,” I said softly. “I’m sorry this has upset you. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things. I don’t know you or Ryan personally so all I have to go on is the evidence. I’ll continue to look into things, and we’ll have the patrols keep a close eye on your house, okay?”
“Okay,” she said on a hitched breath. She blinked again and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Can I go inside now? I need to get a tissue.”
“Sure.”
As she turned to go, my heart drooped inside me. I’d victimized a victim, made her feel worse, made her feel unsafe and unprotected. I felt like an absolute shit. That’s why, when I received a text from my mother asking if I wanted to go to Wednesday-night mass with her tonight, I replied with a thumbs-up emoji. Some time with Mom might make me feel better.
* * *
“What did you do?” I asked my mother as she climbed into the passenger seat of my Smart Car at a quarter to seven that evening.
She cast me a glance as she buckled her belt. “Nothing. Why?”
“You normally only go to a midweek mass if you’re feeling guilty about something.”
She scoffed. “That’s not true! Sometimes I go if your father and siblings are driving me nuts and I need to get out of the house.”
Evidently this was one of those nights. “If it’ll help, you can have my sip of the communion wine.”
“You’re on to something,” she said. “Let’s skip the mass and get a glass of wine somewhere instead.”
“Mom!”
She waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll go to confession later to ask forgiveness.”
I shrugged. “It’s your soul.”
I drove to her favorite Italian restaurant, where we took seats at a high-top table in the small bar area. When the waitress arrived, my mother ordered a cabernet, while I opted for a Lambrusco. As I looked at my mother across the table, I realized it was one of the only times she and I had been alone together in months, if not years. Hard to get much one-on-one time with your parents when you came from such a big family, especially if you were one of the older children.
“How’s Seth?” Mom asked.
“Good,” I replied. “He’s been helping Frankie get acclimated at the fire station.”
At least my roommate hadn’t had to get used to working nights. She’d worked the night shift in her former job as a stocker at the grocery store.
“He’s a good guy.” My mom cocked her auburn head and eyed me intently. “You think he’s the one?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe.” There was that word again. Maybe. “How’d you know Dad was the one?”
“Easy. The thought of settling down with him didn’t make me want to run off and hide.”
The thought of spending the rest of my life with Seth didn’t make me want to run off, either, though I wasn’t anywhere near ready to tie the knot. I enjoyed Seth’s companionship, but I was enjoying my independence, too, thank you very much.
The waitress brought our wine and we each took a sip. I had to admit, it was nice talking with my mother like this, relating to her woman to woman. Heck, I realized then that I hardly knew who she was as a woman. She’d always just been Mom. Maybe it was time I got to know Maureen O’Keefe Luz, the real woman behind the frenzy and freckles.
“You ready for
Gabby to get her license?” I asked.
“Yes and no.” She toyed with her cocktail napkin. “Part of me is sad to see my youngest grow up. Another part of me will be glad that not having to shuttle her around anymore will free up some of my time.”
“What are you going to do with that free time?”
While I’d expected her to say she might catch up on her favorite TV shows, binge-watch a sitcom or two, she surprised me by saying, “I’m thinking about going back to school.”
“School? Really?”
Mom had been attending community college when she’d met my father. After they married, they’d begun to reproduce fairly quickly. When she got pregnant with me, she’d dropped out to become a full-time mother.
“I have no idea what I’ll study. I keep trying to remember what I was interested in before all those years of diapers and dioramas and dentist appointments.” She chuckled softly. “Forty-seven years old and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.”
“Well, it’s never too late to figure it out.” I raised my wineglass for a toast. “Here’s to you, Mom.”
We clinked our glasses and sipped our wine.
“Speaking of careers,” I said, “I’ve got a case I can’t figure out.” I told her about Ryan and Adriana and decided it couldn’t hurt to get her perspective. “What do you think?” I asked. “Is it him or is it her?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea. The only thing I know is that you’ll figure it out.”
“Because I’m smart?”
“No. Because you’re stubborn.”
Ah, mothers. Gotta love ’em.
TWENTY-ONE
C’MON, GET HAPPY
Brigit
Megan hadn’t talked much as they’d driven around that day. Brigit knew that meant her partner was upset. She could also tell that Megan wasn’t happy by the fact that she didn’t pull back her lips to show her teeth or sing along with the radio like she normally did.
Megan had left Brigit home after work and gone somewhere. Brigit didn’t like being separated from Megan, but at least she had Zoe to keep her company. The two were curled up on the couch together, dozing, when Brigit’s ears pricked as they detected the sound of a car engine approaching.
