IF I FAIL: A Jake Carrington Mystery

by Marian Lanouette

  *

  Jake went into his office, sipped his coffee, debating with himself whether he should give Mia another call or not. Finally deciding to call, he picked up his cell phone and pushed her number. He listened to it ring. On the third ring, he started to hang up when she answered.

  “Hi.”

  “You sound out of breath,” Jake said.

  “I had to run for the phone, I left it on my desk. It seems no one calls me unless I walk away from my phone.” She paused. “How’d it go last night?”

  “Tough. They’re all tough. Two young kids living together, the boy gets up to answer the door, next thing he knows he’s dead. Someone shot him through the door. His seventeen year old live-in girlfriend goes into labor with their first kid,” he continued before she could speak. “Look, I’m sorry I called so late. I felt bad about dinner. Can I make it up to you?”

  Silence filled the moment. “Jake, we need to speak about a few things before we really get involved. No, don’t interrupt. I understand about your job. It’s a large responsibility being on call, directing a team—we need to lay some grounds rules, though. What day do you want to do this?”

  He checked his calendar. “I can do Thursday after work, or Saturday.”

  “Okay. I’ll be in Wilkesbury on Thursday. Do you want to go out to dinner?”

  “No, why don’t I cook for us? It’ll be easier to talk with less distraction.”

  “You sure there’ll be fewer distractions?”

  “It’ll be hard. I’ll behave if I must,” Jake joked, eyeing Louie eavesdropping in the doorway of his office.

  “All right, I look forward to seeing you Thursday. What time?”

  “What time do you get off work?”

  “Five o’clock. I’ll need time to go home, change; then drive back to your place, so let’s say seven.”

  “Why don’t you come from work—bring a change of clothes to relax in? I’ll grill something fast for dinner.” He didn’t want to wait until Thursday to see her.

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you Thursday.” She hung up.

  “Anyone I know?” Louie asked.

  “You know who, Louie.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out Thursday. She’s coming to dinner to talk.” He looked off into the distance, deep in thought.

  Louie left it alone, no small feat for him, and changed the subject. “I have all Adams’ records, including the lab reports. What do you want to start with?”

  “Let’s start with the cell phone records, see where they take us. I also want to ask Cara Adams if her father owned a gun. I didn’t find any record of one here in Connecticut. Maybe he didn’t register it.”

  “I’m amazed,” Louie said sarcastically. “Some people don’t follow the law and register them?”

  “Okay, okay, I was just thinking aloud. Don’t bust my chops.”

  “You looked like you needed them busted,” Louie said. “You want to talk.”

  “Yes, about our cases. Nothing else.”

  “Don’t be so damn grouchy.”

  “Louie, please. I’m up to my neck in departmental reports and the duty roster. We have several active cases that require a lot of leg work. So right now, I just need you to back off.”

  Louie switched gears. “On Lola Adams’ bill for Friday, April sixteenth, she had thirty-eight calls going out, fifty-two in, including fifteen voice messages. Shit, this woman lived on the phone. Most of these have 904, 305, or 941 area codes. I need to look those up. There are a few Connecticut codes in there also.”

  He reached for the phone book, thumbed through until he found the national area codes directory. “Okay, area code 904 is in the Jacksonville area, 305 is Miami’s code, 941 is Ft Myers, on the west coast. Oh, she also sent a handful of text messages.”

  “They live in Neptune Beach, don’t they?” Jake verified.

  “Yes, it’s north of Jacksonville.”

  “Okay, why don’t you do the reverse look up on those numbers in Connecticut? On second thought, let’s get the listing for all her numbers.”

  “Got something there?”

  “Just a hunch. How long did she talk to her friend in Miami?”

  Louie looked at the bill again. “Christ, for over an hour.”

  “Well, she said she hadn’t hear from Lola in over a year. I guess they had a lot of catching up to do. Did Lola’s credit card statements come in yet?”

  “I haven’t seen them. Was Lola married before?” Louie asked.

  “I don’t know, good question.”

  They were frustrated. Not one number on Lola’s bill matched Chelsea’s cell, work, or home number. Neither believed in coincidences; if Lola visited Connecticut on April sixteenth, she either killed Chelsea or set it up.

  *

  Wednesday morning the DNA report came in, plus some more lab reports. All the blood on Chelsea belonged to Chelsea. The good news—no sexual assault; the bad news, evidence wise—no sexual assault. There were no body fluids left behind on the body to analyze. She didn’t scratch anyone, so there were no fibers or skin under her nails. The DNA turned out to be a bust. It offered no clues or insight into who murdered her.

  Around mid-morning, Jake sat back in his chair, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes, reviewing the past week in his head. The highlight of his week—for sure—meeting Mia at the party; he couldn’t think of anyone else since he met her. When around each other, they couldn’t keep their hands off. She definitely turned him on—smart, funny. Don’t forget sexy, he thought, smiling. He wanted to explore every inch of her. Would he ever get the chance? The stalking remained a problem, though he needed to be honest with himself; the job turned most women off. Others pursued the uniform, not the man. He didn’t know if the interrupted dinner on Monday night put Mia off. They’d talk on Thursday night, try to iron things out. Christ, he wanted to see her sooner. Making a decision, he reached for his cell phone, dialed her number. She answered in two rings.

  “Mia, it’s Jake.”

  “Hi, how are you?”

  “Good.” He couldn’t believe it. He was at a loss for words.

  “I’m good too.”

  “Oh, sorry, how are you?” He laughed.

  She laughed right back at him. “Good. Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

  “Yep. Would you like to do lunch or dinner today also?” he asked, holding his breath.

  “I can’t do lunch. I’m in Hartford today. What time did you have in mind for tonight?”

  “Whatever time you’ll be back from Hartford.”

  He could kick himself; did he sound needy? He really cared for her, no other woman ever made him feel this way. God help him, his heart was in her hands.

  “I’ll be in town around seven. Is that good?”

  “Sounds good. Any place special you want to try?”

  “No, you pick it. Simple is good for me.”

  “Why don’t we try for that burger again?”

  “Okay, I’ll meet you at your house.” She hesitated, added, “I’m glad you called, Jake.”

  “I’ll see you at seven.” He let out his breath, smiled.

  “See you.”

  He watched her pull into the driveway at seven-fifteen. His first glimpse of her stopped his heart. Her beauty left him short of breath. Her legs came out of the car first; the skirt hitched up, giving Jake a perfect view of her thighs. Watching as she tugged down her jacket, adjusting her form-fitting red suit. The suit was cinched with a wide belt, accenting her waistline, and the skirt stopped just above her knees, showing off her legs. The scooped neckline offered Jake a hint of her cleavage. She pulled out a huge purse, big enough to carry a small child. Reaching back into the car, she pulled out a Macy’s shopping bag.

  He opened the door before she could knock.

  “Hi.”

  “Here, let me help you with those packages.” He reached for her bags. She pulled back.

  �
��No thanks. I just stopped to pick up an outfit to change into.”

  “Really, though, I do like the way the suit fits you. I’m wondering what you have under it?” He couldn’t believe he said it aloud.

  She looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t want to hang around in my suit. As to what I have under it, you’ll just have to wait for another day to discover the hidden pleasures.”

  “What a pity. Good thing I have an excellent imagination. You know I could’ve met you at your house. You didn’t have to buy an outfit just for tonight.”

  “I know. I used dinner as an excuse to shop. I needed to go through Wilkesbury anyway, whereas you would’ve had to drive ten miles to see me.”

  “I would’ve driven a hundred miles to see you. Why don’t you change?”

  “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  True to her word, she came out ten minutes later. Though she’d looked great in her suit, she looked hotter in those skin-hugging jeans that showed off her well-toned ass, and the low-cut white T-shirt that she’d paired with a black leather jacket. Boy, his mind took off in all directions.

  “Jake? Ready to go.”

  “Yes. I’ll drive. That way we won’t be separated if a call comes in.”

  They grabbed a quick burger, spoke about work, their lives—avoiding the subject that could end what was developing between them.

  They called it an early night at ten o’clock. Agreed they’d meet back at Jake’s around seven the next night. Jake lay awake most of the night, wondering where tomorrow’s conversation would take them, if anywhere.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Up at his usual time, apprehension kicked right in when he thought about his dinner with Mia. He couldn’t wait to see her. Though filled with dread at the same time, he tried to put it away for the day, concentrate on work. Last night they’d enjoyed dinner. It was obvious they were both avoiding tonight’s subject. Once again Jake felt like a school boy, trying to convince his date to go all the way. I’ll go nuts if I don’t get this out of my mind today.

  At the station, he used the quiet time before the other detectives arrived for duty, to review the Adams case. He and Louie attended the service for Chelsea Adams yesterday, scanning the crowd. It ripped their hearts, watching those two kids say good-bye to their mother.

  A large crowd had gathered to pay its respects. No one in the group of mourners popped out, screaming ‘I did it’. All in attendance seemed to be genuinely grieving. Burke stood in the background recording the burial, the attendees, and all cars and corresponding license plate numbers. Their next task would be the identification of everyone there; maybe he’d delegate the task to Louie, have him set up interviews with anyone they hadn’t already talked to.

  He’d give the kids a couple more days before he asked about Lola Adams. Today they were going deeper into Lola’s life, her loves, her neighbors, her co-workers. Though progressing, he felt time slipping away—it had been three weeks since they found the body. The evidence hadn’t produced one solid suspect. Jake knew in his gut who did it, but without evidence he couldn’t get an arrest.

  Dreading the possibility it could go cold, he vowed to close this case for the kids. Nothing else in life made him feel more like a failure than a cold case. They haunted his every waking hour.

  Without warning, he flashed back to a time on the beach in Rhode Island. Eva ran after him with a bucket of water. He’d just thrown her into the water and couldn’t stop laughing. She didn’t laugh though charging at him with a vengeance. They couldn’t have been more than eleven and twelve years old. He let her catch him and dump her bucket over his head; then he picked her up again, tossing her in the water. Laughing like a hyena. His parents watched with amusement. A great day, great memory. He missed making those memories. God, how he missed his family. He tried to imagine the woman Eva would have grown into. Would she have chosen a career, or motherhood, or both? Would he have been an uncle by now? Would he have taken the sports scholarship? Pursued a different career? Shaking his head, knowing he couldn’t change the past, his anger—always just below the surface—threatened to boil over; he could never see Eva past the age of fifteen. His mind wouldn’t let him.

  *

  Louie walked in, stopped. Jake looked up, wiping tears away. Louie tried to back out without being seen.

  Jake cleared his throat. “You need something, Louie?”

  “No, I just wanted to let you know I’m here. I found the addresses for Lola Adams’ parents.” Louie never knew how to handle Jake when he slipped into the past. It didn’t happen often. For years, Louie hid his own anger over Eva’s death for Jake’s sake. He considered Eva his surrogate sister. Louie wanted to give him some privacy when it bubbled to the surface.

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll be ready in a little while. Can you close the door on your way out?”

  “Jake, if you…”

  Jake cut him off. “I’m fine, Louie. I just need a few minutes.”

  Louie left Jake’s office, closing the door behind him. Angry, feeling helpless, Louie walked back to his desk. He never had any sympathy for murderers, no matter what their circumstances, because they took so much. He went into the kitchen area, grabbed a cup of coffee while he waited for Jake to pull it together.

  *

  Jake paced his office. He couldn’t believe he let the beast out at work. If anyone other than Louie had walked in… Mortified, he didn’t know how he would have lived down the embarrassment. Most times he could control his thoughts, his emotions…other times…they just snuck up, grabbing him by the balls, showing no mercy. He opened his office door, looked around. He didn’t need to run into anyone just yet this morning. In the men’s room, he stared at himself in the mirror before throwing cold water on his face. Let it go, he willed. On his way back to his office, he motioned for Louie to join him.

  The minute Louie walked in, Jake started in on the evidence, outlining their time schedule for the day. “Any thoughts on the subject?”

  “No. I already called her mother. Mrs. Gromme will see us in an hour. I’m still trying to get in touch with her father. Her parents are divorced, though they live right down the road from each other.”

  “I want to give the Adams kids a break, so we won’t touch base with them until Friday or Saturday, unless they call us first. Do you have your report ready yet? I need to send the captain both of ours together.”

  “No. I’m almost done, give me another half hour.” Louie, always the perfectionist, constantly re-wrote his reports until it drove Jake nuts.

  “Just finish it up, Louie. I’m sure it’s complete. Let me know when you’re nominated for a Pulitzer.”

  “You’re a funny guy, Jake. I like my reports to be exact.”

  “They always are, Louie. Let me know.” Jake went back to his own report.

  *

  They headed to Southington, made the mistake of taking the interstate, the longest parking lot in the state. For as long as Jake could remember, it had been under construction. In fact, in the 1990s, when they completed the new section through Wilkesbury—three years behind schedule—the state announced traffic had increased during the construction period, making the new part obsolete. So, once again, it was under construction. The joke was the state fired the contractor but re-hired him under a different company name. Talk about protection. In Jake’s opinion, both the contractor and the state employee who hired him belonged in jail. It pissed Jake off how much time each day he lost in traffic due to the ongoing construction. It took them another twenty minutes to get to the next exit where they could get off; switching to the back roads saved them some time.

  Jake listened in while Louie place the call to Mrs. Gromme, letting her know they’d be late. Luck seemed to be on their side today—Mr. Gromme called back. He’d see them at lunchtime, if they still wanted to come by. He didn’t know how he could help them, because he hadn’t seen his daughter since her wedding.

  When Mrs. Gromme answered the door, Jake could see how mu
ch Lola Adams favored her mother. Lucy Gromme stood five-three, weighed about one-twenty. Her bleached blonde hair appeared stiff as a helmet. Stuck in the seventies, her eyes were heavily made-up in shades of blue, drawing attention to the deep lines around each one. She spoke in the hard, scratchy voice of a smoker. Jake put her around sixty, though she looked more like seventy.

  “Hello, Lieutenant, come in.”

  “Mrs. Gromme,” Jake said, looking around. The place stunk; though meticulously clean with minimal furnishing. The door opened into a small foyer. An umbrella stand stood off to the right, next to it a tray filled with shoes.

  “Take your shoes off before you come in. Put them on the tray there. I don’t want my house messed up.”

  Not happy, Jake removed his shoes, scoping out the apartment at the same time. The short foyer led to the kitchen on the left. Further down, the short hallway ended in the living room. A sofa, a recliner chair, a coffee table, and two end tables, with lamps, filled the room. In front of the sofa a forty-two inch television sat on a clawfoot drop leaf table, offset with a fresh flower arrangement. Cold, like the woman, Jake thought. No pictures or knickknacks. An open door led directly into the bedroom off the living room. He didn’t see a bath, so he assumed it was in the bedroom.

  “Have a seat and tell me why you’re here,” she stated. No formality, no offer of beverages.

  “My partner, Detective Romanelli and I, are working the murder case of Chelsea Adams.”

  “So, because my daughter married her loser of an ex, you’re here to accuse her? If you are, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” she said, going right to the heart of their visit.

  “It’s standard procedure to interview everyone who knew, or had knowledge of, the victim, Mrs. Gromme. We’re not pointing any fingers at anyone at this time.” Jake kept his voice neutral.

  “You know how to do the dance, don’t you Lieutenant?” she said, putting her hand up to stop his reply. “What do you need to know?” She looked directly into his eyes.

  Not intimidated, Jake respected her more for her directness.

  “Your daughter Lola visited Connecticut the weekend that Chelsea Adams died. Did she visit you?” Jake asked.