I cleared my throat again, grateful for the subject change, despite the curiosity that now burned inside me. It was best if Chase and I just kept things professional. “I did hear something. It’s about a drug lord named Caligula. You heard of him?”
Chase’s eyes narrowed, his lips tightened, his shoulders tensed. “Unfortunately, I’ve heard of him. Every cop within sixty miles of the area has.”
“Who is he?” I took a sip of my soup, waiting in anticipation.
I’d done some research last night and confirmed that Caligula was a Roman emperor. Though historical accounts varied, most agreed that he’d done some heinous things with his power. He’d tortured those under him and sought power, as well as pleasure.
“If we could tell you that, we’d have the man behind bars. No one knows who he is. He has a layer of management that protects him as part of his supply chain. Those guys are the ones who take the supply to the street army. They’re not telling.”
“You mean, they’d face jail time to protect him? They must be pretty loyal.”
“Not exactly. All of them say that he wears a mask and disguises his voice.”
I tore off a piece of my bread, trying to digest what Chase said. “Is that weird?”
“Lots of things are weird. Obviously the guy doesn’t want to be discovered, for reasons like we just talked about. If his dealers can’t identify him, that puts him in a better position.” He popped a sweet potato chip in his mouth.
“I’m not naïve. I know all drug lords are dangerous. But what sets this guy apart?”
He drew in a deep breath. “He’s good, for starters. Between you and me, this guy is manufacturing a synthetic drug that’s lethal. We’re trying to take it off the streets or to even find where it’s being manufactured so we can shut the place down. But we’ve got nothing. Somebody somewhere knows something. It’s just a matter of finding that person.”
“Basic profile? Is this some kid running the operations?”
Chase shook his head. “No, it’s way more complex than what a kid could do. This person has connections. He’s smart and deceptive. Maybe he even has another job that allows him a cover for what he’s really doing. Maybe his job puts him in contact with likely distributors.”
My first thought was Abraham. Could Abraham be Caligula? Was that how he’d gotten his money? His job would definitely put him in a good position to recruit impressionable young people who might be anxious to make a buck. Besides, Abraham was college educated. He’d probably studied rulers like Caligula, who reigned during biblical times, while he was in college.
But I just couldn’t see Abraham stooping that low. He was a stand-up guy . . . wasn’t he?
“So, you think this Caligula guy is connected with the murders?” My stomach roiled whenever I thought about the two men who’d died and my connection with the crime scene. I wasn’t sure that feeling would ever go away until I came clean about everything.
“I can confirm that there was evidence of Cena in the systems of the guys who were murdered. That seems to be a pretty good indication.”
Cena was the newest synthetic drug to hit the market, and it was all the rage in the area because it was cheap and people liked its effects. I remembered enough from my classes to know that Cena meant “the main meal of the day” back in Roman times. That meant our local gang, the Praetorian Guard, had a leader named Caligula and that Cena was their main recreational drug. Whoever was behind all of this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill gangbanger. They had been educated.
“So, is this a serial killer or a drug lord offing his underlings?”
Chase shook his head. “Nothing is ever certain. For all I know, this could be some kind of vigilante thinking he’s doing the city a favor by killing people hooked on drugs. Maybe the cleaning supplies he left were his way of saying he’s cleaning up crime in the area.”
I shivered. “That would be . . . morbid.”
“I’ve seen worse. And, of course, I’m just speculating right now. I can’t share details of the case.”
I broke it down in my mind. A serial killer who just happened to focus on young men involved in drugs? A drug lord killing to either punish those under him or teach them a lesson? A vigilante thinking he was doing a good deed?
None of those options were comforting.
“None of that, however, explains why I’m being shot at.” Even if the gunman was someone who’d seen me enter Katrina’s house that night, why would he be trying to shoot me?
Then I remembered the noise I’d heard when I’d been at the house. Was it the killer escaping? Hiding?
What if that person thought I’d seen them? What if someone was trying to kill me to keep me quiet? And, just in case that didn’t work, they were setting up the crime scenes to make me look guilty. They were doing whatever it took to take the attention off of them.
“What are you thinking? I can see your wheels spinning.”
I shook my head and took a sip of my soup to buy myself some more time. “Maybe whoever is shooting at me thinks I know something,” I offered. I had to be selective in how much information I presented. But that amount seemed safe enough. Certainly Chase had probably put that much together in his mind.
“Could be. That is, if this is connected.” He leaned closer. “I just feel like there’s something you’re not telling me, something that could break open this case.”
I froze. Couldn’t breathe. Didn’t dare move.
He knew, didn’t he?
I had no idea what to say. How to handle it.
A smile cracked on his ultraserious face. “Just kidding. Like you, of all people, would have unlawful connections with the underworld.”
I released my breath and let out a shaky laugh. Joking. He’d been joking.
And I’d almost gone and owned up to everything.
His eyes became serious again. “I do wonder what’s going on behind those blue eyes of yours, though. You’re a hard one to read sometimes.”
“A girl can’t tell all of her secrets.”
“That in one of the etiquette books your mom mentioned you loved to read?”
I’d have to thank my mom for that later. I half shrugged. “That and other groundbreaking tips like, ‘Never sit next to someone prettier than you are.’”
“That’s not a problem for you, is it?”
My throat tightened. “What do you mean?”
“Girls don’t get much prettier than you, Holly Anna.”
His stare sent blood rushing to my cheeks and my ears and probably any other visible surface of skin. I opened my mouth to retort, to sound clever and coy—two things I actually wasn’t that great at being. Before something humiliating left my lips, his cell phone beeped.
He excused himself and put his phone to his ear. “I’ve got to go.”
“A new lead?” I asked, wishing the question was as innocent as it sounded.
He pulled some money from his wallet and dropped it on the table, then slid a piece of paper to me. “Yep. Here’s my number in case you need anything or have any more trouble. Please be careful, Holly.”
I nodded and watched him walk away.
Maybe I was wrong about Chase.
Not likely. But maybe.
CHAPTER 14
I still had a little time before I was supposed to be back at work. I was going to swing by Katrina’s cousin’s house and ask about her son. I needed some answers.
I had a year left on this earth, give or take a week. No one was going to cut into that time. I still had a whole bucket list of items I wanted to do. Some things, I knew would never happen. I wouldn’t make it to Italy and meet a handsome man. I wouldn’t get married and have a houseful of kids. Nor would I even fall in love, most likely.
But I was going to live with purpose, and my purpose right now was figuring out what was going on.
Katrina had given me the woman’s address. Her name was Desiree Harding, and that was pretty much all I knew about her. Katrina had promised me she’d
let her cousin know that I might be stopping by. Hopefully, she’d done that, since a lot of people in this area were hesitant to trust outsiders.
I pulled up to a house that mirrored most in the neighborhood: tall, skinny, and run down. This one was painted turquoise, the yard was littered with broken toys, maybe a shirt and a couple of unmatching shoes, and two tires were stand-ins for shrubs in the flowerbeds.
With thoughts of that Cadillac still heavy on my mind, I glanced up and down the street as I climbed from my Mustang. I didn’t see the car anywhere, nor did I see anything else suspicious.
That didn’t ease the tension in my shoulders as I climbed the steps snaking through the yard and toward the front door. I skirted past a “Rex Harrison for State Senate” sign. I moved more quickly than I would have liked—a sure sign that I was nervous—and rang the bell.
There was a car in the driveway, so I hoped that meant someone was home. A woman answered a few minutes later, blinking rapidly and running her hands through tousled hair. Apparently, I’d woken her up.
I’d seen grief before; I’d experienced grief before. I knew it could consume you. This woman was consumed.
She was in her early thirties with dirty blonde hair that slouched to the side in a head-top ponytail. She didn’t bother to pull her oversized, floppy sweatshirt over her shoulders, which were nearly bare because of the spaghetti straps of her low-cut white tank top.
“Can I help you?”
“Desiree? My name is Holly Paladin, and I’m a friend of Katrina’s. She said she would mention me to you.”
The woman stared at me a moment, her eyes glazed, before nodding. “She may have said something. What can I do you for?”
“I know this is an awful time, but could I come in for a minute?”
Seconds passed until finally she opened the door farther. “Just for a minute. I’m . . . busy. Got lots of stuff I should be getting done.”
I stepped into the battered entryway and went to the kitchen table, where remnants of some oriental noodles were stuck to the top of the wooden tabletop. Desiree sat across from me.
My heart went out to the woman, and I prayed that I’d have the right words. “First of all, I’d like to say that I’m really sorry for your loss.”
She nodded and stared off into the distance. “Thank you.”
I licked my lips. “I’m guessing that Katrina may have told you I’m a social worker?”
“You here to take the rest of my kids away?”
“No, not at all. I’m here just to check on you.”
“I feel like I’ve lived through a nightmare. Worse. It’s like I can’t wake up, no matter how many times I pinch myself.”
“It’s going to take some time. Grieving is a process.” I shifted. “Desiree, I know the police have talked to you. But I’m worried about the crimes in this neighborhood. More than one of my clients have been affected by these acts of violence.”
Her eyes sparked. “The whole neighborhood’s going downhill. What’s the world coming to? Why are people so senseless?”
“Many reasons. But drugs are one of them. They seem to turn off people’s consciences.”
Her finger sliced through the air like a vigilante with a sword. “Drugs. You’re right. They’re destroying people. But not my son. He didn’t mess with stuff like that.”
I shifted again, hoping my words sounded compassionate. “Desiree, did your son hang out with people who may have done drugs?”
“Everyone around here knows someone who does drugs. It’s a way of life here in the Hill. Why are you asking all of these questions?”
“I’m just concerned.”
“Why don’t you talk to your brother about it?”
I blinked as her words set in. “My brother?”
The woman glared at me. “I know who your brother is. Ralph Paladin. He’s running for senate.”
I remembered the sign in her front yard. “I guess he’s not the candidate of your choice.”
“He doesn’t care about us. But Rex Harrison? He’s going to end this drug war around here, once and for all. Mark my words.”
“The election will be interesting for sure.” I leaned toward her, ready to change the subject. “So, Desiree, I know of this great group of people who meet once a week to talk about losing loved ones . . .”
CHAPTER 15
Four days had passed since the murder at Katrina Dawson’s house.
Every day, I waited for the police to knock on my door and arrest me.
Every day, I waited for a phone call from Jamie saying she was being investigated.
Every day, I anticipated my family’s disappointment in me.
Every day, so far, I’d been wrong.
I hadn’t run into Chase Dexter again.
It was eleven days until the election, and my brother was ahead by four percentage points.
My sister’s wedding plans were coming along nicely. I’d even tried on my bridesmaid dress Thursday night and was pleased with how it looked. The fact that I’d lost about five pounds from the stress of this week alone helped.
Life continued on.
I’d revised my whole random-acts-of-kindness plan. I had left some groceries on the doorsteps of a couple of my clients. That was safe enough. I’d sent the pastor at my church a gift certificate so he could take his wife out to eat.
I’d hoped this whole cleaning thing would get swept under the rug, and maybe I would actually get my wish.
Right now, I was on my way to a conference that Helen insisted I had to attend. It was some leadership thing that she felt would be beneficial for the Caring Hands employees. I didn’t ask any questions, although I’d much rather be keeping up with my workload.
I parked in a garage in downtown, and, of course, I was running late. I ran down the sidewalks. The day was briskly cold but sunny—but not briskly cold enough that I wasn’t wearing a cute dress that Jamie had found last week at the thrift store. I liked to take old dresses and make them my own by adding belts and jewelry. Sometimes I hemmed them or added a sweater or leggings. It worked well for my style, as well as my budget.
I ran into the lobby, breezed past the people standing by the entrance, and ran toward the large, dark conference room. I stopped in my tracks, nearly stumbling, when I saw the head honcho boss, Helen Weatherly, standing there.
“Holly, I thought you may not make it.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be waiting for me.” I straightened my turquoise cardigan, wishing I’d planned a little better.
“It’s no problem. I just wanted to make sure we sat together. We just started a few minutes ago.”
Helen was married to the city’s police chief. They’d both lost their spouses, Helen’s to cancer and Walter’s to a heart attack. They’d gotten married three years ago and seemed like a match made in heaven. I’d met Helen when I worked for CPS, and we got along fabulously. When she’d started Caring Hands, she’d persuaded me to come work for her, and I’d agreed.
We rushed inside. I stayed low and took a seat between Helen and Doris.
I turned my attention to the stage where the mayor was giving a speech.
“So, on behalf of Orion Enterprises and the city of Cincinnati, it is with great honor that I’d like to announce the winner of this year’s Volunteer of the Year,” he said. “This person has worked tirelessly for the city, giving of herself day in and day out.”
What? I thought this was a leadership conference. What was going on?
Helen smiled beside me and patted my hand.
“Holly Paladin, for her work with the teens in our area!”
I blinked, uncertain about what was going on. Then Helen shoved me, and somehow I ended up onstage behind the microphone, and a plaque was thrust into my hands.
“Would you like to say a few words?” Mayor Hollinsworth asked.
“A few words?” I questioned.
The audience laughed. I laughed back, only to make it seem like I was in control and
totally knew what was going on. In truth, I had no idea.
He nodded toward the microphone.
I cleared my throat and looked out over the audience. There had to be five hundred people here. I thought—but I wasn’t sure—that I’d just received an award for volunteering. For the entire city.
I could only make out the faces of the people at the tables closest to the front. I spotted my mom, my sister, my brother, my sister’s fiancé, Jamie, and Abraham.
They all grinned at me.
Walter, the police chief, was onstage. He smiled encouragingly. I think he liked me by default since Helen had taken me under her wing. There were several other city bigwigs seated around him, though I couldn’t place their names.
I cleared my throat again and adjusted the microphone, mostly so I could buy time.
“Wow, I just don’t know what to say. Usually when I’m in this position, I say something a little hokey. Forgive me because I’m not great with speeches when I plan them, and I’m especially not great when I’m surprised.”
Another ripple of laughter filled the room.
That’s when I froze again. Not because of stage fright, but because my skin started to crawl.
The killer was in this room.
I don’t know why I knew with such certainty, but I did. He was watching me from the darkness, one of many unseen faces within the crowd.
I had to get myself together.
“There’s one thing I know for certain, and that’s that in life there are very few certainties. We must live each day as if it were our last. We must hold to and treasure every moment. We must cling to the hope we know and not let our minds be clouded by despair, whatever our circumstances.” I raised my plaque. “Thank you again for this award. I’m truly honored.”
Before I could scoot off the stage—and run for my life—the mayor caught my elbow. I glanced over on the other side and saw Orion Vanderslice himself. He had dark hair on top that was silvering at the temples. His face was square with pleasant features—if it weren’t for his scowl. He may have been brilliant in business, but he was horrible when it came to social graces.
Random Acts of Murder: A Holly Anna Paladin Mystery, Book 1 (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries) Page 8
