Tom picked it up and read the text:
U R A STUD
“Thanks, my wife thinks so. Sorry to disappoint you though, but that little hat trick didn’t astound and amaze me.”
“You’re such a difficult and demanding audience. It’s a good thing I like you. What will astound and amaze you is there’s a number on both these phones. The exact same number. I want you to track down and let me know who it belongs to.”
“You did mention something about a hint…?”
“I have a hunch that the number belongs to someone who was very close to both Jones and Sawyer. Maybe even someone who was related to the both of them.”
“You mean you think the number belongs to –?”
“Nope,” Reightman interrupted with a smile. “I’m not going to say another word until you verify it yourself.”
“Should I check it for prints while I’m at it?”
“You can, but I don’t think there’s any need. You’ll find Toby’s prints, my prints and Jones’s prints on it, but I don’t think you’ll find anyone else’s.”
“You already know who it belongs to, don’t you?”
“I have a strong suspicion. Based on something Jones revealed before he was shot, and a couple of other things I’ve pieced together, I think I do know. I also think I know who opened the door to the roof at the spa the night the Damerons tried to kill Toby.”
“Same person?”
“Yes, and if we can tie them to both the phone, and to the assistance they provided the Damerons, then…”
“Then, you have an accessory to Guzman’s murder, and an accessory to the attempted murder of Toby Bailey.”
“See,” Reightman smiled, “I knew you’d catch on, Tom. Also, if you could pull the prints you got off the door handles from the spa stairwell, we’d have pretty much everything we need to make the charges stick.”
“Maybe so. It should make a good initial case anyway. Anything else you can dig up might be handy to have in your hip pocket.”
“I’m one step ahead of you. I have Toby hunting for the final pieces to the puzzle right now.”
“Reightman, you are soooo sexy right now – spinning your web from your secret lair. That cane by your side adds to the aura of evil.”
“I hate this damned thing! But, it helps me get around while I carry out my nefarious plans.”
“So tell me, oh evil mastermind, how’d you learn how to pull all these strings while sitting here all by your lonesome?”
“I can’t tell all my secrets, but I will tell you I learned from the best. Most people would say that master manipulator is a harmless, old lady.” She smiled at him, in a close approximation of what she called Zhou’s dragon grin. “The people who’ve been lulled into thinking she was harmless have been proven to be very, very wrong.”
The next thing she did was call the city’s human resource department to discover who Jones had listed as his next of kin.
Toby dug through a couple of boxes before he found the item he needed to accomplish the task Detective Reightman had assigned him. Opening the spa appointment book, he flipped to the page listing the appointments booked on the day the Damerons tried to kill him. The page listed every client, and the corresponding spa technician who had provided the requested services. Locating the name he needed, he called Andre.
“Let me think a minute, and see what I can remember, Toby.”
“Take your time, Andre.”
“Well, I don’t really remember much, and it was a while ago. But from what I recall, she seemed to be very nice and was apologetic about having to use the ladies room before we started her massage. I didn’t think anything about it, because it happens all the time. The best I can remember is she appeared to be middle-aged, but it’s hard to say how old she really was. She was very well kept and well groomed. She certainly didn’t look like someone you’d suspect of having a tattoo, especially in the place she had it. I guess you just never know.”
“Andre? Where on her body was the tattoo?”
“Well, it was right by her….lady parts. It was a flower of some sort. I just saw it for a minute when she kind of flashed me.”
Toby thanked Andre for the information and ended the call. “Mission accomplished.”
The next day Tom called with the news he’d verified the number on the phones. “Don’t go alone,” he warned her after he told her the name associated with the number.
“I won’t, Tom. Thanks for doing this so quickly. I guess it wasn’t much of a challenge for you after all.”
“It was tricky enough, given that you’re an amateur. However, I was so intrigued I put in a few extra hours. In fact, I stayed up all night and just finished a few minutes ago.”
“I didn’t intend for you to go to that length.”
“I know, I guess I just want this all to be over. It’s gone on way too long already, and has to be the damnedest chain of events I’ve ever seen.”
“I agree. It has gone on for far too long. And too many people have paid the price of all the lies and deception perpetrated by some of this city’s leading citizens and corrupt officials.”
“Speaking of that, Reightman, I’ve been thinking about the conversation we had about Kelly, and I have a piece of advice, if you’re open to hearing it.”
“Sure. If you have any ideas on how to take care of Chief Ernest Kelly, I’d love to hear it. Any advice on that topic has to be better than what I’ve come up with.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Reightman, but I’m afraid my advice is just the opposite of that. The thing is, I’d like you to think about some things before you take him on.”
As he’d expected, she started to interrupt, but he wasn’t going to let that happen-at least, not yet. “Hear me out first before you shut me down. We all know Kelly holds a grudge forever, and you also know he has an ego the size of a large continent. Most of the time, he comes across as an old grizzly bear, grumpy and ready to smack everyone down, but folks think the bear’s missing most of its teeth. But Reightman, you’ve seen enough to know that’s all an act, and that the bear has plenty of very sharp teeth. He used to be hot stuff, from what I’ve heard – the best detective ever to grace the hallowed halls of this city. Right now, he’s faced with a situation where at least three of his officers were directly involved in these murders, and he has a lot of egg on his face, both because of that and for the way this unfolded. He has to be embarrassed that he was wrong about everything, as you so adeptly proved. That adds to his discomfort. I’m sure he’s had some explaining to do to the city brass, and word on the street is his own job might be in jeopardy. That may or may not be the case, but I know for a fact that he’s persona non grata with the Mayor right now. The fact is, you outclassed him, and showed everyone he’s not such hot stuff anymore.” Anderson paused for a moment and then summed it all up. “Reightman, he’s not ever going to forgive you for that and his resentment and anger is just going to grow.”
So far, she knew he was right, but suspected there was more to come. “Go on.”
“Well, people like Chief Kelly are old school, and however hard they try, they’ll always be old school. They have old school ideas and fight by old school rules. All that being said, you have a couple of decisions to make. First, decide if your career as a Detective is really important to you. If it is, and if you’re sure there’s nothing more important than this job, do what you need to do. But be prepared for things to get much worse before they get better – if they get better. Prepare yourself for the hard reality they might just get very bad. If he thinks he needs to, Kelly will fight mean and dirty, and regardless of how he’s currently viewed by the Mayor and a few others right now, he has powerful connections, and years’ worth of favors he can use against you. And you can bet he’ll go to the wall before he backs down.”
If Kelly was out to get her, or thought he had to bring her down to salvage his misplaced pride, it would be a battle
she might not win. “And my other option, Tom?”
“Get the hell out, Reightman. Get out while the gettins’ good. Say whatever you need to say, but wait until your exit plan is in place. If you do that, and if you’re lucky, he’ll probably view it as a retreat and not a challenge. You don’t want to challenge him, not if you want to get out of this intact.”
“Tom, I can’t just let the fact he almost got the three of us killed drop by the wayside!”
“I knew you’d say something like that. I agree that it would be a difficult thing to do. But next time, he might not just almost get you killed. Of course, you could just let him walk all over you in order to keep your job. Sometimes I wonder if that’s what you want.”
“What the hell do you mean by that, Anderson?”
“Melba, ever since Sam died, you’ve been hanging on by a thread. Oh, you’ve put on a good poker face, but face it; these days you can hardly drum up enough energy anymore to even throw a good bitch fit. As the case got cold, you just let it. You put up a good fight in the beginning and I thought you were going to pull through. I’d guess it would be difficult to get that fighting edge back, and frankly, I’m not sure you should even try, unless you want to sacrifice everything else in your life. And that would be a shame – a shame for you to not find the time to see your daughter and grandchildren because you were so consumed with trying to prove you were tougher than Kelly. It would be a shame for you to push away all of the people who you’ve come to know, and who’ve given up their own time to take care of a person they consider a friend.” He gave her time to think about his last statement and then drove his point home. “Is it worth that, Melba? Are you ready to give up on your family and friends, just to make a point that doesn’t matter to anyone else?”
He didn’t offer more, and didn’t need to. He’d given her more than enough to think about.
Two days later, Reightman, accompanied by two cars of uniformed officers and leaning on her cane, arrested Marilyn Sawyer.
Mrs. Sawyer, nee Brown, tried to bluff her way out of it. Reightman allowed her to talk, until she lost her patience and pulled out the black phone in the sealed evidence bag. She turned on the phone and dialed the appropriate number in the contact history. A phone buzzed in a nearby desk drawer. Reightman did the same thing with the other phone, and the buzz sounded again.
“Aren’t you going to get that, Mrs. Sawyer?” Reightman asked the flustered woman. “It might be your son, Bill. But that can’t be right. Bill Jones is dead, isn’t he?”
“You have no proof that I’m involved in any of this!”
“Mrs. Sawyer, I have a chain of evidence reaching from the photos Gerald Guzman took of you, to the fingerprints you left when you unlocked the door for Christina Dameron the night she tried to kill Toby Bailey. The night she was killed by your son.”
“My son was a fool!” Marilyn Sawyer spat as an officer placed the cuffs around her wrists.
“Maybe he was, Mrs. Sawyer. But the only mistake he really made was to fall in love with the man he was supposed to kill. For that mistake, he died.”
Marilyn refused to say any more as she was led away to the waiting car.
The following afternoon, Reightman walked down the hall to Ernest Kelly’s office.
“Hey, Melba,” Nancy greeted her. “How’s the leg?”
“It’s getting better, slowly but surely. I think I have an appointment with Chief Kelly.”
“You sure do, and you can go on in. He’s expecting you.”
“Thanks, Nancy.”
Reightman knocked on the door – one knock – and entered.
No one ever knew what took place in the office, or what was said between the two of them, but when Reightman left the room, copies of the papers she’d filed that morning to trigger her retirement were on Kelly’s desk. As for Kelly himself, he didn’t take any calls, or open his office door for the rest of the day.
“In the end, I decided a battle just wasn’t worth it,” she told Tom when she stopped by his office on her way out to her car.
“I’m glad you saw it that way. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”
“Three months ago I wouldn’t have, Tom. But, three months ago, I was a different person than I am today.” She gave him a Cheshire grin as she thought about what was waiting for Kelly. “Besides, I don’t have to do a thing. Sheriff Branson is going to be up his ass so far she’ll be able to see light when he opens his mouth. I can just sit back and watch. He may very well face charges before she’s done.”
Tom returned her smile. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to visit Abby and the kids, then start physical therapy so I can get rid of this damned cane. After that, I don’t know, but I’m not worried. Something will come along.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Toby waited in the reception room of the spa while Mr. Albertson finished up his walk through of the space and decided which furnishings he wanted to purchase. SarahJune was accompanying him, answering his questions and occasionally haggling over the relative value of a chair or set of treatment room fixtures. Toby was grateful she’d agreed to come in and handle that final part of the shutdown, because he just didn’t care about any of it. He knew it was important to try and recoup as much as he could, but he also knew he was more than ready to close the doors and turn off the lights. Then he’d just crawl into bed and try to sleep.
He hadn’t been doing much sleeping since the day he shot and killed Bill Jones. During the long nights, he replayed the events over and over in his mind until he’d nearly driven himself over the edge with the guilt and horror he felt. He didn’t know how to get past it, or even if he could. He was exhausted, and overwhelmed by even the smallest thing. Maybe going home to Grams would help. He was leaving in the morning and planned to spend the next two weeks helping her get the house ready for winter. He guessed she’d need some help putting in the winter vegetables and there were always things to be done around the yard. He hoped she had so many things lined up that he could wear himself out, and then maybe he’d sleep for more than an hour at a time. He refused to think about the fact he hadn’t told her what had happened. He didn’t know how he could bring himself to tell her that he’d killed a man.
He looked up at the picture above the reception desk, debating whether he should keep it, or let it go with everything else. Grams had the original, still in its cardboard roll from when he’d returned it after having the extra-large copy made. He was still trying to make up his mind when he heard the front door open. He turned to look, and discovered it was Madame Zhou, coming to check on him as she’d been doing every day for the last week.
Belatedly remembering his manners, he stood to greet her. “Hello, Madame Zhou.”
She didn’t reply, which was very unusual, and he wondered if her hearing was starting to go.
“Hello, Madame Zhou,” he tried again.
“I heard you the first time, Toby. Goodness, I am not deaf!” She walked to one of the plush green chairs and took a seat. She tilted her head and observed him for a minute, and then turned to the same framed photograph he’d been studying before she arrived. After a minute of contemplation she turned to him and scrutinized his face. “Yes,” she informed him. “It is just as I thought.”
Toby had no idea what she was talking about, and even for her, this was unusual behavior. “Madame Zhou, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”
“Well, of course you do not. One never does, at first.” She waited politely for him to comment, and when he didn’t, she gave a tiny shake of her head. “I find myself hesitant to say more, but I have decided I must.” She waited for his response, and when none was forthcoming, she glared at him disapprovingly. “I can see you have reached the stage where it has become difficult to understand much of anything, except for the tangled emotions and regrets flowing inside. And that, Toby, is a very bad thing. It is to be expected I suppose, as there have been man
y layers building on top of each other since even before Geri Guzman was killed.” Again she waited.
Finally, at a loss to figure out what she was waiting for, he said first thing which came to mind. “None of it should have happened.”
“Perhaps. But, I regret to tell you, such is often the case in life. Many things should not happen. But they do. And when they do, we have choices to make. It’s time for you to start thinking about what you will choose.”
“But, Madame Zhou, I’m not ready to think about what I’m going to do now. I have a little money left and it will tide me over for a while.”
“Toby, I am not talking about your choices of future employment. I’m talking about your choices of future life. Will you indulge this old woman while I share an observation with you?”
“Of course, Madame Zhou.”
“Thank you. Now, my observation concerns your resemblance to that photograph hanging on the wall. I have always admired it, and if I recall, your mother took the picture.” Toby affirmed she had, and Zhou turned to regard it again. “I have always admired her talent. It is difficult to create something so compelling without the use of color. The first time I saw that image, I noticed the remarkable resemblance you shared with the young boy in the chair. Of course, it was only to be expected, because he was you, once. Or perhaps, more correctly, you were he. Those things often become confused as we grow to adulthood. Even though this photograph is in black and white, and you are a startling combination of light and color, there was no way one could fail to recognize the person depicted, regardless of his age. You shared the same eyes, the same expression – your pout is quite famous here on Capital Street, as is the lock of hair which falls across your forehead, as it did even then when the photograph was taken. But underneath the small boy’s pouting face, one can tell in a moment he will begin to laugh again and one knows that as soon as his expression changes, his arms will uncross and he will open up to possibilities. He will then be allowed off of the chair, and will soon be getting on with other things, exploring and learning from what is around him. You were much the same way when I first met you.” She looked up at the photo again, and then turned back to face him. “That photograph captures but a moment, but offers the viewer the promise of much more. That boy teases us into guessing what happens next, and causes us to imagine what he will be experiencing the next time we are allowed a glimpse of his life. That, I think, is why it such a remarkable photograph. And that brings me to what I have hesitated to say, and now feel I must: You, Toby Bailey, no longer bear much resemblance to that child.”
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