by Linda Wiken
J.J. wondered if this might be a good time to tell Devine about her earlier visit to the office.
CHAPTER 26
Devine pulled out of the station parking lot. “Want a caffeine stop along the way?”
“Always. Any thoughts on what we’ll find at the office? You’d think his staff would be loyal.”
“Not if they’ve been passed up for a promotion or given lots of extra menial work. Maybe they haven’t been thanked since the campaign began. There are a lot of things that set people off. Let’s grab a coffee at a place I know just around this corner. It’s small but they serve their own freshly roasted beans.”
He pulled in front of a small two-story older redbrick house that had been converted for retail use. They went inside, and J.J. breathed in the smell of fresh coffee beans. “Smells amazing.”
Devine nodded and gave his order to the young man behind the counter. He asked J.J. what she wanted.
“Medium-sized dark roast, please.”
Devine paid for the coffees and they headed back to the car. The next time he stopped was in the large parking lot next door to the campaign office. They finished their drinks, tossed the cups into a trash can on the sidewalk, and then went inside.
“Now, how about I do the talking in here.” It wasn’t a question. J.J. rolled her eyes and followed him partway through the room to the door of the campaign manager. She glanced around the larger room while he knocked on the glass door.
Fletcher Kane looked up from his desk and waved them in. He was standing by the time they reached his desk. The sleeves on his plaid shirt were rolled up above his elbows, his black tie loosened and askew. He had black-rimmed glasses propped on top of his head. A gap between his front teeth was apparent when he smiled, even though he barely opened his mouth.
Devine spoke first. “I hope you don’t mind our just stopping in without an appointment. I’m sure you’re a very busy man these days.”
Kane had looked a bit put out, but his demeanor changed. “I can spare a few minutes. What’s this about? Are you media?”
“No. It’s about Miranda Myers.” Devine left it at that. J.J. watched for a reaction.
Kane shook his head. “That was so tragic. Gary is devastated. They were close, you know. The only siblings and their folks are gone. It’s really too bad it happened so late in the campaign. He has to be at the top of his game at this stage.”
J.J. couldn’t hold back. “It’s too bad it happened, period.”
Kane looked only slightly mollified. “Of course. That didn’t come out right. Now, what is your interest in this?” He looked from one to the other.
Devine pulled out his ID. “I’m a private investigator, and Ms. Tanner was the one who organized the casino night where the murder happened.”
J.J. cringed. It still unsettled her to hear her name linked to the murder.
Kane shrugged. “What can I do to help?”
“How did Ms. Myers feel about her brother’s campaign?” Devine asked.
Kane’s initial look of surprise was quickly replaced with a folksy smile. “She was excited for him. In fact, she would come in and volunteer, making phone calls, stuffing envelopes, that kind of thing whenever she had the time.”
“Was she still doing that at the time of her death?”
“What do you mean? She was a strong supporter.”
“I understand that she had stopped coming into the campaign office, and that it had been at least a couple of weeks.” J.J. glanced at Devine. How did he know that?
“Well, she was busy. That was all. Gary understood. Celebrities aren’t always in charge of the demands on their time.”
“But he’s her brother.” J.J. felt the need to get into the conversation. “Surely she could have made time for him.”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at. Of course she would have if it had been necessary. But as you can see, we have plenty of volunteers available.”
“Whose idea was it that she pull back?” Devine took up the thread again.
Kane shrugged. “I don’t really know for sure. Now, I’m sorry, but I’ve run out of time. Gary has a press conference in a couple of hours, so there’s lots to do.”
“One last question,” Devine said as they were turning to leave. “How was Miranda’s relationship with her sister-in-law?”
Kane looked startled. “Yolande? Fine, I guess. I didn’t see them together too much, but they always seemed to get along just fine. Why?”
“Just trying to get an overall picture of her life.”
“One last from me, too,” J.J. interjected. “Were you at the casino night fund-raiser? Or maybe Miranda’s brother went?”
“No. Gary definitely wasn’t there. He had a speaking engagement at the Kiwanis club, and his wife went with him.”
“Okay,” Devine answered for them both. “Thanks for your time.”
“No problem, and please, feel free to contact me anytime you have further questions.” Somehow, he didn’t sound like he meant it. He closed the door behind them.
“Oops, sorry,” J.J. said as she’d walked right into a staff member. Time to pay attention to the surroundings.
“No problem.” The woman continued on her way to the back of the office.
“You know, I did have more questions,” J.J. muttered as they headed back through the outer office to the sidewalk. “What did you think of all that?”
Devine shrugged. “We could take it all at face value. What he said makes sense.”
J.J. shrugged. “I guess it could. By the way, we didn’t talk to the office staff.”
“Another day, when Kane isn’t in. I’ll call first.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“He has a lot invested in his candidate, so that may be coloring his answers. It’s good to have others to compare with.”
“Whatever you say. Now what?”
“Now I drop you off at your office so you can do your real work, and I’ll go do mine.”
“Is it to do with the murder?”
“No. It’s to do with insurance fraud. I told you, I run several cases at once. Just like you have events to plan in between solving murders.” He grinned.
“You are so right.”
CHAPTER 27
J.J. had tried to put aside all thoughts of the murder, and of work, for the weekend. She knew she needed a break. So that meant doing only housework—a necessity, reading—a pleasure, and taking walks down to the lake, so that she could enjoy the fabulous fall weather. But good intentions last only so long, and by Sunday afternoon, she was keying in Fletcher Kane’s name on her computer. She hadn’t liked the guy, maybe because he came across too sincere, almost a sticking point with her. She’d run across a lot of similar guys in her past life. Overly sincere translated into slick in her book, translated into untrustworthy, so he must be hiding something. Probably something to do with the campaign, but would that have anything to do with the murder? Probably not.
She’d bet Devine had already done the exact same thing. When he wasn’t busy. Doing what? Did he have a steady girlfriend and, unlike J.J., was spending the weekend actually doing fun things? On the other hand, what did she care? She’d enjoyed dinner on Saturday night with Skye and Nick. Again. Several phone calls with friends. And she had Indie. What more did she need? Certainly not any complications.
She pulled her thoughts back to Fletcher Kane. Quite a few hits, all singing his praises, plus a Facebook site with over three thousand friends. Who had that many friends? She didn’t want to become one no matter how much information his page was hiding. Surely nothing incriminating, anyway. She gave up after about ten minutes, feeling she knew enough about him to know she didn’t really want to get to know him any better.
She decided to thumb through the casino night photos again. Now that she’d seen some more of the people involved in some way, no matter how small, with Miranda’s life, it was time for another look. After about a half hour of checking slowly and thoroughly, she
sat back and sighed.
There were a couple of possibilities, but unfortunately, the images were too blurry. Also, she’d have to wait until Monday to actually follow up on it.
She stood and stretched, then stared out the window. She felt restless but wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. She spotted a magazine from the local school board listing night school classes. Maybe that’s what she needed. Food. More specifically, a cooking course. She’d been toying with the idea for some time now, ever since she and Skye started working on their own night school course on event planning, but so far she’d done nothing about it.
She thumbed through the index and flipped to the page outlining the cooking courses. She had proven to herself that she was more than just a cookbook groupie. She had actually presented a few highly edible main courses, but she knew she still was way behind the others in the club when it came to skills. Her main problem was she stuck too closely to the recipes and varied ingredients only after checking with others that it was an okay thing to do. She readily admitted she was afraid to test her own creativity. If she had any. She totally lacked confidence—and terminology. She felt like she was still in kindergarten when it came to discussing and describing the dishes they all prepared. And right now, she wanted to be a high school senior.
Her mom hadn’t encouraged her cooking talents nor instilled in her any inquisitiveness when it came to coming up with menus, combining tastes and ingredients, and doing the actual cooking. Of course, she couldn’t totally blame her mom, because she’d treated all the kids the same, as she’d rushed in and out of the house between client meetings and house showings, and the family was left to its own devices many nights. J.J. soon found out there were many pizza and Chinese food takeouts in their end of the city.
On the rare occasion when her dad would take over in the kitchen, the family was guaranteed there’d be a culinary treat. But he didn’t encourage the kids to get involved, either. So, neither of her brothers cooked. And J.J. didn’t cook. Until now.
She slowly read the descriptions of two courses she’d been considering. Only one would be the winner. Cook Like a Chef promised she’d be slicing and dicing her way to a bevy of techniques and recipes. While Cook the French Way promised she would be able to do just that. While the second one sounded magical, the first sounded practical, and she knew that’s precisely what she needed. She checked the dates, six Tuesday evenings, seven to nine P.M., starting the second week in January. The cost was manageable also.
She flipped her computer on, found the website, and entered her information. Five minutes later she sat back and smiled. Hello, culinary world.
Her phone rang while she was busy congratulating herself. It was Alison calling from downstairs, asking to be buzzed in. A minute later, she knocked at J.J.’s door, opening it at the same time.
“This is a surprise. Not working tonight? Do you actually have the weekend off?”
Alison dropped her red puffy jacket on a chair. “I’m on days so I won’t stay late, but I thought I’d deliver my news in person.” She glanced toward the kitchen.
“Would you like coffee or wine?”
“Mm, wine, please, and thanks.” Alison waited at the eating bar while J.J. poured two glasses of red.
“It’s a California cab. Hope that’s okay.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, and you know, I’ll drink anything.” She took a sip. “This is quite nice.”
“Great. Now, spill the beans, not the wine.”
Alison pulled her down on the love seat beside her. “I spent my lunch hour in the station going through old files, and this time found a memo outlining Miranda’s request to interview a police officer for a story she was working on.”
“Great. What was the topic?”
“Do the movies and TV shows get it right? She outlined the questions she planned to ask—things like, how much of the police part in popular shows is fact and how much is fiction? Standard questions. A fluff piece. I wonder if the cop was on the clock or volunteered. Does he even watch the show?”
“Does he have a name?”
“His name is Sergeant Beau Watts.”
“Do you know him?”
“Oh yeah. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he had an affair with her. He’s got quite the reputation around the station, even though he’s married. Fortunately, no kids.”
“So, you know for certain it was him? There were no switches at the last minute?”
Alison shook her head and her straight long blonde hair gently swirled. Although she always wore it in a ponytail or totally pinned up for work, she usually preferred to let it hang loose in off hours. J.J. thought it softened her look. “Doesn’t seem to be.”
“You’re a rock star, Detective Alison. So, what’s the next step?”
“Well, I can’t really go and ask him. For one thing, he’s a higher rank, and for another, there’s no proof they were having an affair. It’s all hearsay. And furthermore, it’s not my case.” She took another sip.
J.J. stood and started pacing. “I hear what you’re saying, but I think hearsay trumps caution. It’s a lead, isn’t it? If you really were a detective, wouldn’t you be following it?”
“Yes, but when confronting a cop, you need more than gossip. And it’s pretty dicey for someone in my position to be asking those kinds of questions.”
“Well, I’ll do it, in that case.”
“And you think a seasoned cop is going to admit to you that he was having an affair with a murder victim?” Alison’s face said far more than her tone of voice.
“Well, okay, maybe not when you put it that way, but he might just blurt out something incriminating anyway, thinking, what could I possibly do to hurt him?”
Alison shrugged. “Doubt it. He’s good.”
“Fine. Well, so is Devine, so it’s obviously got to be his task. I’ll call him and maybe you can fill him in on the sergeant’s schedule or something?”
“Go for it.”
J.J. tried calling, but got his voice mail. Bummer. “He seems to be unavailable. I’ll let him know when I talk to him. Do you think our guy could be a murderer?”
Alison looked a bit startled. She gave it some thought. “I’d like to say no, but I have no idea. I don’t know him well enough, and as much as I’d like to think a cop wouldn’t do anything illegal, I lost my naïveté a long time ago.”
J.J. nodded. Not much that could be said to that.
After Alison left, J.J. sat flipping through The French Market by Joanne Harris and Fran Warde, one of her go-to cookbooks when she wanted to be soothed. She loved the photos of the produce in the outdoor markets, the scenery, and, of course, the finished dishes. Indie jumped up on her lap when she was partway through, and she had to shift the large hardcover to lean it on the arm of the love seat. After the necessary kneading session, Indie settled and kept up the purring for a while. He was not happy when J.J. eventually shifted him off her lap and onto the warm spot where she’d been sitting.
She was just climbing into bed when the phone rang. Devine.
“I see you called.”
She felt caught off guard. Of course he would check his calls even though she hadn’t left a message. “I have some information I wanted to share; however, I’m just going to bed. It will have to wait till tomorrow.”
“You sure I shouldn’t come over now?” She could hear the teasing in his voice.
She looked down at the nightshirt. There’s nothing like a good book in bed! it read. No way.
“Tomorrow will be fine. Do you want to stop by the office or should we meet at Cups ’n’ Roses for coffee?”
“Cups ’n’ Roses at nine.”
“Fine. See you then.”
“Sweet dreams, J.J.”
Oh, sure.
CHAPTER 28
Devine sat in J.J.’s favorite booth, facing the door as she entered. She gave him a small wave and then felt like chopping off her hand. How cutesy. She queued in line for her order and in no time had
her large latte, and after a brief chat with Beth, joined him.
“So, you caught your noontime thief?” Devine asked. “And you didn’t think to tell me last Friday?”
“I guess I got so caught up in the other stuff. How did you know? I know, you’re a private eye. And besides, Beth told you.”
“She did.” He saluted her with his mug. “But she didn’t have an ending to the story. What happened to the woman?”
J.J. shrugged. “Beth decided not to call the cops and instead, gave her a job.”
“She what?”
“Yeah. Apparently the woman had been living in her car since her divorce from the jerk husband. Now she has a job, a place to stay, and no reason to steal. It’s so Beth.”
“I hope she knows what she’s doing.”
“I’m sure she does.” J.J. took a long drink. She didn’t really want to go into any more detail about Beth’s business, although she supposed Devine had a right to ask. He had tried to help.
He sat looking at her for a few seconds before asking, “So, what’s the information you have for me?”
“I have the name of the police officer who was having an affair with Miranda.”
Devine looked suitably impressed. “How and who?”
“Alison has been checking whenever possible, and she came across a memo from Miranda asking to interview him. I’m guessing that’s how it started.”
“Probably. So is she going to confront him?”
“She doesn’t want to partly because he’s a higher rank. And, it’s not even her case.”
“I can understand that.” His eyebrows knit together. “You’re not planning to jump in and tackle him, are you?”
J.J. leaned back. “As much as I’d like to, I realize he won’t tell me a thing. Why would he? I could tell Detective Hastings, but then we’d be cut out of it completely.”
