by Wendy Byrne
* * *
“Hello.” She sounded distracted, like her mind was a million miles away. Fat chance she’d say anything to him, even if he had a good suspicion of what might be troubling her.
But to be honest, Landry was a little surprised she answered at all. After the scene outside the police station this morning, he figured she’d avoid him for a while. Could be a couple of hours, couple of days, couple of months. With Isabella, he never knew how long her avoidance would last. In the past whenever things got too close for comfort, she’d withdraw.
“I checked this morning. Your place isn’t ready yet. You’re more than welcome to spend the night with me again. In a strictly platonic sense, of course. Kinda like a sleepover.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that’s you, Landry, a regular boy scout. But I think I’ll check into a hotel. I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Besides, a girl’s gotta keep some secrets. Your place is much too small to do that.”
“Brings up a good point. Why’d you go to Stateville?” He might as well press her for some answers. Some people might believe he was a glutton for punishment. But sooner or later he kept hoping she might let him in. Even a little would be a victory of sorts.
“How—” She didn’t bother to finish the question.
“A friend of my cousin works there. It’s big news when a detective from Chicago shows up.” He chuckled in an effort to keep things light. “They don’t get much action there with only murderers and serial killers for amusement.”
“Geez, you Taylors should go into the spy business. You have moles everywhere.” She blew out a breath. “Any news about Lou?” Not too surprisingly, she changed the subject.
Some things never changed. “I’m just getting to the station now. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?” For some reason, he didn’t want her out of his sight. Maybe he was still reeling from the shock of finding her in that alley. Maybe it was the simple fact that now that she was back in his life, he didn’t want to let go. Maybe just like her, he was a bit of a control freak.
“I couldn’t stand to see you scrunched up on the couch again. You looked like a big giant pretzel.”
“If you’re feeling that bad, I guess we could share the bed. I promise to stay on my side.” It was hard to keep the smile off his face as he walked into the station to start his evening.
“Yeah, right. I’ve heard that one before. And then before I know it, your hands or other parts of your anatomy would wander over to my side.”
“Me? Never. I’m a boy scout, remember.” With the phone at his ear, he checked for messages in his mailbox. There was a note from Lieutenant Thomas asking him to stop by. Opening up his locker he threw it inside and pulled out his uniform.
She hesitated for a few seconds. Knowing her, he imagined she was chewing on her bottom lip contemplating the options. “I guess it will be easier if I come by your place.”
“I knew you were a slave to my charms.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Around you? Not a chance.” He opted not to tell her about the note from the lieutenant. No sense getting her nervous for nothing. “See you later, roomie.”
“In your dreams.”
Landry had time before his shift so he changed into his uniform before he went into the lieutenant’s office. He knocked on the door then pushed it open. While he figured there’d be some follow-up questions from last night, he wasn’t too nervous about the prospect. At least until he saw the visitor sitting across the desk from the lieutenant.
“Have a seat, Taylor. Agent Malone and I were just talking about you.” Lieutenant Thomas motioned toward a vacant chair while a sinking sensation set up in Landry’s gut.
This couldn’t be good.
* * *
Out of leads and more confused than ever, Isabella had to get back to basics, and finding Lou was a good place to start. Besides, keeping her mind occupied would help her avoid thinking too long about that snippet of a memory that had surfaced a few moments ago.
Who were some of Lou’s friends? He didn’t have any that she’d seen except for …what was that guy’s name?
Sergio.
She closed her eyes to bring up the image of the man she’d seen once. He’d been at the apartment a week or so ago. Mid-twenties, curly hair pulled back into a ponytail. While he avoided looking her in the eyes, the cop in her searched for gang tattoos on his exposed arms.
Nothing. But nowadays the gang members had gotten smarter. They’d put their markings in areas that weren’t visible. Sometimes they’d put them on the sides of their fingers, sometimes on torsos that remained hidden unless they wanted to expose their affiliation.
That day she’d seen him he’d worn all black without the contrasting gold of the Kings or the blue of the Aces. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, especially if he knew Lou lived in the same building as a cop.
She had asked Lou about the guy later, but he hadn’t been overflowing with information. He’d only told her Sergio had been a work acquaintance and that they’d both gotten laid off at the same time. Not much to go on.
Maybe if she stopped by Schmidt Packaging, Lou’s former employer, she might glean a little more information. Most people had a tendency to be cooperative when a cop came around to ask questions.
Schmidt Packaging was in a brick warehouse similar to the ones that surrounded it. She circled the block a couple of times to scope it out. The loading dock was housed in back. A trickle of trucks lined up to get their packages loaded by able-bodied men and women.
She pulled into a spot marked for visitors and went through the front door. A woman sat at a desk behind what looked like heavy-duty bullet-proof glass answering phones. Isabella spotted others working inside, mostly females, in cubicle-like structures. It looked pretty busy for someplace that fairly recently had to lay off workers.
For the first time she wondered if Lou had been honest with her. A slow creep worked up her spine, but she squashed it.
After getting a break from the phone answering, the woman clicked on a sound system in order to communicate. “Can I help you?”
She flipped out her badge. “Detective Sanchez. I’d like to speak with someone in charge.”
“May I ask what this is regarding?”
She shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “Just a few questions about some burglaries in the neighborhood.”
A slight fabrication. But there had to be at least some burglaries going on within an eight-square-block area of this place.
Besides, she’d learned long ago if she threw out a carrot, it would pique curiosity. From that comes open doors. Naturally they’d wonder why they hadn’t heard about the burglaries, if there was something they could do to prevent it, or only to hear the gossip. The reasoning didn’t matter; it all worked to her advantage.
“I’ll get Mr. Schmidt for you.”
The top dog. Excellent. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Isabella didn’t sit down in one of the chairs for a couple of reasons: For one, she didn’t expect she’d be kept waiting very long. For another, she had too much adrenaline to sit right now.
The woman behind the window spoke. “Mr. Schmidt will see you now. I’ll buzz you in.”
The woman flicked something behind the desk that unlocked the door. Isabella pulled at the flip handle and was surprised at the strength of it. The door was made of solid steel with one of those reinforced door latches that could withstand anything but a missile attack.
Why did a packaging company need all this protection? Bulletproof glass in the reception area, steel reinforced doors and, from what she could tell, a state-of-the-art alarm system.
Sure, this was not one of the best neighborhoods in Chicago, but there were areas a lot worse. Maybe the owner was a little paranoid, maybe they had some unfortunate incidents in the past, or maybe there was something more to it.
“Right this way, Dete
ctive Sanchez.” The woman led her through a series of cubicles to a corner office on the right-hand side.
The man behind a large mahogany desk pulled off reading glasses and stood. His hand was outstretched and gripped hers in a firm shake. “Jonathan Schmidt.”
Probably closer to sixty than fifty if the preponderance of grey hair and lines on his face were an indicator. A couple of photographs of a wife and some grown children, maybe grandchildren, were displayed along the credenza behind his desk.
Because she knew he’d be on edge if she didn’t sit down, she took one of the brown leather chairs in front of his desk and tried not to fidget. She was always at the top of her game when pacing, but she needed to keep Mr. Schmidt loose and cooperative and a detective stalking around his office would no doubt have a deleterious effect.
“I didn’t know about any burglaries in the neighborhood, Detective Sanchez. Where were they?” He had a pen and paper in hand to jot down notes, which was pretty unusual for an everyday Joe kind of guy. There was an off chance he had a law degree, which would make him more tuned into the details, or he might be the meticulous sort.
“A couple of blocks from here, but we’re widening the scope of our investigation to see if any businesses in the area have had any unusual incidents within the last couple of weeks.” She had backed herself into a bit of a corner in order to get in. Now she had to figure out a way to ask about Lou and this mysterious Sergio character. “What do you do here?”
His eyes narrowed and he gave her a suspicious look, but the moment passed quickly. “Packaging supplies. We distribute everything from corrugated boxes to bubble wrap to those annoying Styrofoam peanuts that everyone hates.” He gave her a forced smile.
“You make those products on the premises?”
“Yes. It’s an interesting operation. Unfortunately I can’t give you a tour today as my time’s a little tight. But I could set something up for later.”
“I might take you up on that. How’s business been?”
“Can’t complain. More and more people shop on-line these days, which is always good for my business.”
If business was so good why did Lou get laid off? Something wasn’t adding up. “Do you have a lot of new employees?”
“Are you saying you think one of my people is doing the burglaries?” His voice pitched slightly higher and he shifted in his seat.
She shook her head. No sense getting him all paranoid about his workforce. “Not at all. I’m only trying to get a sense of the dynamics. I’d like to see if there’s any common ground between what’s happening.”
“I hire an average of two to three people a month.”
“Wow, business must really be doing great. Most companies around here are experiencing layoffs because of the economy. It’s good to know it’s not affecting your business.”
Somebody was lying. Although she’d like to believe it wasn’t her cousin, she had a feeling she was wrong.
“I haven’t had to lay off a single person since I took over the business from my father fifteen years ago.”
Her stomach did a nauseous flip, but she trudged on. She scanned through her notepad, examining an imaginary list of questions while she regained her composure.
“Do you have anything unusual to report? Any suspicious activity in or around the area?”
He shook his head. “None that I can think of.” He clicked his pen a couple of times. “When are the burglaries occurring? Is there some sort of a pattern?”
“The usual middle of the night kind of thing. They break into the office and steal money out of the safe. Do you keep a safe on the premises?” Even though she tried to keep focused, her mind kept drifting back to Lou and the reasons why he might lie.
Sure she expected a lot of him. But he had a wife and child. While that unfortunately didn’t mean a lot to some men, to Lou it did.
He nodded. “In my office. But nowadays we don’t keep a lot of money around. Most of our business is in checks, credit cards or electronic funds transfer. I only keep some petty cash around for office emergencies, that kind of thing.”
“Hmmm. Then I guess you won’t have to worry about being a target.” She huffed out a breath as a new thought occurred. “How about disgruntled employees? Have you fired anyone lately?” If Lou had been fired, he might have been too embarrassed to tell her.
When he shook his head, her stomach plummeted. “I screen my employees thoroughly. You can’t be too careful.”
“Seems like you’re doing everything right.” She got up from the chair, more than a little anxious to leave. Instead of clarifying anything, things had become more scattered and confusing.
While she wanted to ask him about Lou and Sergio directly, she didn’t want to risk any inquiry by the department. Right now she had diddly-squat to go on and couldn’t risk any wrath that might come her way.
“Thanks for stopping by, Detective Sanchez. I believe the Chicago PD is doing a wonderful job. My business is secure thanks to all your great efforts.”
“That and the fancy alarm system and bullet-proof glass you’ve got installed.” She nearly bit her tongue after the words came out. The last thing she needed was for him to get annoyed or defensive.
“Just a precaution. You can’t be too careful.”
All that effort for a bunch of bubble wrap and a crapload of Styrofoam peanuts. Something didn’t make sense.
She walked through the door and got into her car. She examined the building and scanned the neighborhood once again.
Nothing changed from earlier. It looked like a typical warehouse district in the city. Most people were inside unless it was lunch time or quitting time. A steady stream of trucks rumbled down the street to pick up or drop off loads.
She eased her car away from the curb and did a slow reconnaissance of the block. At almost three, there was a chance most of the workers would be clocking out soon.
Maybe she should hang around the area and wait. Maybe Lou might show up. Or, more likely, the sky might open up and reveal all the answers to her burning questions.
She drummed her fingers along the steering wheel and forced her mind into detective mode. From where she sat, she could see the workers come out the back doors and walk to their cars.
Curiosity alone forced her to sit watching, wishing, hoping.
Just when she thought she might have lost the tenuous grip on her sanity, she spotted Sergio. She jumped out of her car and ran straight at him.
Chapter Five
“Wait a minute.” Landry held out his hand as if his meager protest would have some kind of impact. “Are you crazy? You want me to spy on Isabella?”
“I wouldn’t call it spying so much as protecting her.” Malone sat rigidly in his seat, not giving away anything with his body language. The lieutenant remained eerily quiet.
“If she’s in danger, why don’t you have her at a safe house or something?” As much as his protective instincts were pushed by the request, he needed more information. If she was in some kind of trouble, he wanted specifics.
“I’m not saying the danger is imminent, I’m saying there’s potential.”
Landry crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair. He could play chess with the best of them. “Okay, so why not warn her? Doesn’t make any sense to leave her out there hanging.”
“You know Sanchez as well as anybody. No way she’ll heed any warning. She’ll go rogue and we’ll never know what she’s doing. If you’re hanging around there’s a good chance she won’t do anything stupid.” The lieutenant looked at Malone when he spoke rather than at Landry, which could only mean the lieutenant was saying what he was supposed to, not necessarily what he wanted to.
“You should know that nobody can stop Isabella if she sets her mind on something.” They were skirting around the issue. “You want to dangle her as some kind of carrot to draw somebody into the open. Is that it?”
“Not really. We wouldn’t put her in danger. That’s where you come in
.”
“I still don’t get it. Why not tell her?” Landry shrugged while trying to finagle solid information from them. “I don’t mind watching her back, but it would be good if she watched her own as well. Besides, I can’t be there twenty-four-seven.”
“I’ll have a man assigned to her when you’re not around.” Malone didn’t hesitate. Not even for a half second.
Landry blew out a breath and struggled to make sense of what they were telling him. Finally it clicked. “You think she might potentially be involved. That’s the issue, isn’t it?”
The lieutenant shook his head. “Her spare matched.”
He didn’t have to elaborate; Landry put two and two together and knew he was talking about the murder weapon. “That’s bull, and you know it. If she killed her father, she would have admitted it. Don’t you see? She never went to Stateville…”—at least until today—“…even though you,” he pointed to Malone, “have video of her allegedly visiting there. Now somebody plants the murder weapon in her apartment. Seems pretty clear what’s going on.”
This Malone guy didn’t know Isabella, so he could give him a pass. But the lieutenant knew better. Why the hell would he bend over backwards to please this Fed?
“But it’s also a possibility that she killed him.” Malone said the minimum, but Landry suspected there was a whole lot more that he didn’t say.
“What was the time of death on Samuels?” Landry asked.
“Why?”
“If you’re doing all this conjecture about whether or not Isabella shot him, I need to have all the information.”
Malone’s eyes remained focused on him while the lieutenant once again looked to Malone. “The two of you met up in that alley a little before eleven o’clock, but Mr. Samuels was killed sometime between ten and ten-thirty. That would give her enough time to cover her tracks.”
“Why, after twenty-five years, would she up and kill him?”
“That’s what we’d like to find out,” Malone responded. “Of course you know this means you can’t tell her, or anybody else, about what we’re asking you to do.”
