“Who?”
“Wyatt Garrison.”
Chapter 16
The Maycroft Regional Hospital had become much too familiar to Deena. Between her clumsiness and various brushes with danger, she practically had her own suite in the emergency room. That’s where she went to find Abby, hoping to talk to Billy. Maybe he could identify the driver of the car who tried to hit him. Or should she say, kill him?
The receptionist told her Billy had been taken in for surgery and that his friends were most likely in the main waiting room on the second floor. She, of course, knew right where to go. Sure enough, Abby and Leroy were there along with a woman Deena assumed to be Billy’s mother.
“Mrs. Sharpe, you didn’t have to come down here,” Abby said, although she had a look of relief on her face.
“I wanted to check on Billy. How is he?” Deena sat across from the small group.
Leroy rubbed his forehead. “The doctor said he got lucky. He’s got a broken leg and some broken ribs, a sprained wrist, and a lot of—what was that word?” He looked at Abby.
“Contusions,” she said. “They’re working on his leg now. He had multiple fractures.”
The woman next to them eyed Deena up and down. “How is it you know my boy?”
“I met Billy a few days ago after the auction. Abby works for my sister-in-law.”
“Oh, okay.” She went back to her magazine.
Abby had a death grip on Leroy’s hand.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Deena asked.
“We didn’t get a chance to talk to him. The police officer told us that Billy said a car ran him off the road over there by the South Loop. He was on his way to work. What’s scary is that Billy said the car did it on purpose. It wasn’t an accident.”
“Did he say if it was the same car that hit him in the parking lot at the auction?”
Leroy shook his head. “The guy didn’t tell us anything like that. I doubt Billy would have mentioned it to the cops.”
“Did the police officer, say anything else?”
“Nah. He said they would follow up after Billy gets conscious.” Leroy sat back and adjusted his John Deere trucker cap. “Man, I hate sitting around like this.”
That seemed ironic since “sitting around” seemed to be the trio’s favorite pastime. “Did you get the name of the officer you spoke to? I want to ask him some questions.”
Abby frowned. “We don’t want Billy to get into any trouble.” She glanced down at Momma who seemed oblivious to their entire conversation. “He’s had enough run-ins with the law.”
Deena leaned forward. “But if someone is trying to harm Billy, we need to find out who it is, right?”
Abby glanced at Leroy who shrugged his shoulders as if handing off the problem to her.
“Look,” Deena said, “we know Billy didn’t do anything wrong just like you didn’t do anything wrong.” It was a lie, of course, but Deena wanted to gain the girl’s trust. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt over this stupid mess.”
Her frown softened. “It was a guy named Hitchcock. Like Wild Bill Hitchcock.”
Here we go again. “Thanks. I promise to try to protect Billy. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on him.”
Abby nodded then looked away.
Deena was now more convinced of Wyatt Garrison’s innocence. How, though, was she going to convince Guttman since he wouldn’t even talk to her about the case? Maybe she could go around him through Hitchcock. At this point, she had few options.
* * *
THEY SAY THE POLICE force is a brotherhood. There’s a bond as strong as family among those who wear the uniform. Deena had hoped that wasn’t the case between the rank-and-file officers in Maycroft and the number one detective.
Apparently, it was.
Hitchcock proved to be useless. He said Guttman had warned the officers in the department not to talk to her about the case. Although it was probably a violation of her civil rights, she didn’t have the time or energy to fret about it now.
She sat in the car and rubbed her right foot. Even though she’d been wearing flats, her feet felt like she’d been walking on hot coals. She’d gotten spoiled by not being on her feet all day. It was a reminder of how soft she’d gotten since retiring. Sleeping late, coming and going as she pleased, dropping by Gary’s office for a quick visit and surprise lunch now and then—these were all perks of not being on the clock anymore.
On the other hand, she’d actually grown stronger as a person. Chasing after bad guys—and gals—will do that to a person.
She debated going back to the thrift store for a few more hours of work. Her barking dogs told her she needed a break. And perhaps a nap. Instead, she headed over to Sandra’s house. Not only would holding her new goddaughter do her some good, she could explain why the thrift store wasn’t bringing in much money this week. The last thing she needed was her best friend thinking she’d had her hand in the cookie jar.
As she crossed the intersection of Maple and Main, a siren blared behind her. With a quick glance in the rearview mirror, she saw Guttman with one of those portable lights on top of his unmarked car. She pulled into the parking lot of the laundromat. Ronnie Clark’s laundromat, to be exact.
Deena got out of her car and walked up to his window. “Can I see your license and registration, officer?”
“Very funny. Get in.”
She got in the passenger seat of his car and put her hand to her mouth, pretending to smoke a cigarette. “What’s the topic for tonight?”
“What?”
“Sorry. I was playing Deep Throat from All the President’s Men.”
“Not now.” He pulled his sunglasses off and tossed them on the dashboard. “I heard you called one of my officers about the case. Is that true?”
“Yes. You don’t think one of your men would lie to you, do you?”
Not the slightest hint of a grin.
“You have a short memory. I told you—”
“You said I couldn’t talk to you about the case. You never mentioned that I couldn’t talk to anyone in the entire police force. What if I was being assaulted, or worse, someone was trying to steal my dog? Am I allowed to call 9-1-1?”
“Look. Let’s cut to the chase. I’ll give you thirty seconds. Shoot.”
Thirty seconds was barely long enough to recite her phone number and address, much less catch him up on her investigation. “Someone is trying to kill Billy Ratliff. He was run off the road today and is in the hospital. It was probably the same person who ran into him when they were fleeing from the auction. That’s how he really hurt his arm, not in a motorcycle accident. The killer must think Billy can ID him. One thing’s for sure, Wyatt Garrison didn’t do it because you have him locked up. Garrison admitted to trying to take the coins from the house, but he says he didn’t take them at the auction.”
Guttman’s face remained stoic. He looked out the front window, staring off into the distance.
She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable tongue-lashing .
“When did you talk to Garrison?”
“Earlier today at the jail. Estelle asked me to go with her.”
“Then you know we have him on attempted robbery, not homicide.”
“Right. And I know that it is just a ruse to keep an eye on him.”
“Is Billy okay?”
“Are you asking as a human being who cares about his fellow man or as a cop?”
“Both.”
“He’s pretty banged up. They are doing surgery to repair his leg. We can talk to him when he’s back in his room.”
“We will do no such thing. I will talk to him. If he’s anything like he was the other day, he was higher than a kite and just imagined someone was trying to kill him.”
“Linus, you don’t honestly think that, do you?”
“I’m sure they’ll run a toxicology report on him. We’ll have to wait to see what it says. He lied to me once about his arm, who’s to say he’s not lying again?”
“In the meantime, are you going to have them drop the charges against Wyatt?”
“Absolutely not.” He hesitated, then added, “Not yet at least. Wasn’t it you who called me yesterday to pick Garrison up? If you’re so sure he’s innocent, who do you think did it? And who will you think is guilty tomorrow?”
Deena could feel her face flush. “That’s not fair.”
Guttman turned in his seat to face her. “When you’re an outside investigator, it’s easy to jump to conclusions based on a handful of evidence. When you’re in my position, you have to look at all the facts. Investigate thoroughly.”
“But you wouldn’t even have known about Billy or Garrison if it hadn’t been for me.”
“Who’s to say I wouldn’t have gotten the information myself — eventually?”
Yeah, when pigs fly. Luckily, she hadn’t said it out loud. “In answer to your question, I think Ronnie Clark is guilty.”
“Okay, based on what evidence?”
She hesitated, knowing she couldn’t just say, Because of the way he yelled at me. “I don’t have any proof yet, but I’m working on it.”
“Once again, I’d just ask you to let me do my job. This doesn’t involve you. You pay your taxes. Let me earn my salary.”
Deena yanked open the door and got out. “Fine. But if anything happens to my sister-in-law, I’m blaming you!” She slammed the door shut and got back in her car.
The detective’s words had stung. Was it her sense of responsibility to Estelle and Russell that kept driving her forward, or was it her pride?
Regardless, she needed time to sort it all out.
After a heaping helping of Detective Guttman, Deena was in no mood to play cootchie-coo with baby Sylvia. She headed home for a warm bath and a glass of wine. The clock on the dashboard shook its finger at her, saying it was too early for wine. She’d have to settle for hot chocolate.
Hopefully, there had been no new shenanigans in the neighborhood today. She wanted to avoid Christy Ann, although she would normally be picking up her oldest up from Mother’s Day Out about now. Sure enough, there she was unpacking her three children from the car when Deena drove up.
The garbage can lay overturned by the curb. Why couldn’t they just stand them up after emptying them? She hurried to the mailbox down by the curb. She could have waited, but she had plans to slip into her jammies as soon as she got in the house.
When she pulled out the small stack of envelopes, something clattered to the ground.
“What’s that?” Christy Ann asked from behind her. “Did you win the lottery or something?”
That woman was like a ninja. She could sneak up on you quicker than the women who spray perfume on you at the department stores.
Deena looked down on the ground to see something shiny. It was a coin. She turned it over in her hand, judging it to be a silver dollar.
“Looks like you got a gift,” Christy Ann said.
Deena looked at a small envelope. The flap lay open and the outside was written, Back off. “Actually, it’s more like a warning. And not a subtle one at that.”
“A warning? What do you mean?”
Deena had no intention of telling Christy Ann about the coins and the murder and all the rest. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “Just a little joke between Gary and me.”
Christy Ann turned back toward her house.
“By the way,” Deena called after her, “did you see anyone over here at my house today?”
She turned around and put her hands on her hips. “Are you implying I’ve been spying on your house?”
“No, of course not. But as the captain of the neighborhood watch—”
“Well, if you must know, Sarah Garrett and her sister purposely walked by the house with their kids in strollers. I think they were trying to get a reaction out of me. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.”
“Anyone else?”
“A few cars and an old truck. Probably one of those junk men who come around on garbage day.”
“I see.”
“If you want to know if your husband came home for lunch and had a tête-à-tête with another woman, the answer is no.”
“My heavens! I would never suspect Gary of that.”
“Neither would most of the women around here, but that doesn’t mean they’d be right. Of course, that’s none of my business.”
Deena hurried into the house, clutching the coin. She closed the door and leaned back against it. Taking a deep breath she said, “See, Linus? It just got personal.”
Chapter 17
Deena only knew of three people who could tell her if the coin she found in the mailbox was part of the stolen loot. One of those men was locked up, one was probably the thief, and one of them hated her guts. Unfortunately, number three was her best bet.
Her hot bath and chilled wine would have to wait. She drove over to the pawn shop to talk to Marty Fisk, hoping to convince him that Guttman needed her help solving this case. She would take her best shot. If nothing else, she might be able to get a lead on the coin and its sender.
Only two cars were parked in front of the store. Fisk would have a hard time avoiding her in a nearly empty shop. She dropped the coin in her purse and went inside. A guy with greasy hair and a neck tattoo had his feet propped up on a chair. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open like a flytrap. He appeared to be the only one in the shop.
Deena tapped on the glass countertop.
The young man fell backwards then popped up when he saw her.
“Whew,” he said, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead dramatically. “I thought you were the boss for a second there.”
“I take it Mr. Fisk isn’t in.”
“Nope. Uh, you’re not going to tell him I was asleep on the job, are you?”
She shook her head. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
He glanced at the clock. “I’m not sure. Is there something I can help you with?”
Should she show him the coin or should she come back later? Tattoo guy looked to be a part-timer, not a coin aficionado. “Do you know anything about coins?”
“A little.”
She pulled it out of her purse. “I found this one and wondered if it was worth anything.”
He held it up to the light then pulled out his jeweler’s loupe to take a closer look. “Well I’ll be darned. This is the second one of these I’ve seen in the shop this week. What you’ve got here is a Walking Liberty Half Dollar. An early one, too.”
“Is it rare?”
He squinted through the magnifier. “As a matter of fact, it is. This one is marked with an S, which makes it worth more. The boss would have to grade it to figure out its value. Are you looking to sell it?”
“Maybe. You say you have another one here? Are they identical?”
“I’m not sure. Wait here a minute.” He headed to a back room and came back with another coin in his hand. He examined it closely. “This one here is a 1920-S. Still rare, but not as early.”
“I see.” Deena was impressed with the guy’s knowledge. She looked at the other coin. “Where did this one come from? Did someone bring it in this week?”
“I don’t know, actually. I just noticed it on the boss’s desk yesterday.”
The shop door opened and a woman came in dragging two small children. The little boy ran over to a glass case filled with knives and started banging on it for no apparent reason other than the fact that he could.
The salesman frowned. “Look, if you want to make a deal on the coin, you probably need to come back tomorrow. Mr. Fisk took his car to the shop. I’m not sure how long he’ll be gone.”
She narrowed her eyes. “The repair shop or the body shop?”
“Clark’s Body Shop.” He looked over at the woman who seemed oblivious to her son’s ruckus.
Deena left.
Surely, it couldn’t be a coincidence that Fisk had a coin similar to the one someone put in her mailbox. But what ab
out getting his car repaired? It was possible she had been wrong about Ronnie Clark. If Fisk had a wrecked black car in the body shop, the city might just be looking to replace its mayor.
* * *
ON THE WAY HOME, DEENA kept glancing back and forth at her mirrors. This wouldn’t be the first time someone followed her, but this time she could be in real danger. If Fisk tried to run Billy off the road to keep from being identified, who said he wouldn’t do the same to her?
She wanted to call Guttman. Would he even take her call? Would he agree with her that the coin had been left as a threat? What other explanation was there? One thought niggled at her. How could Fisk have been at the auction when it ended if he stole the coins, hit Leonard, and then ran into Billy?
Butterfly Gardens seemed less welcoming this time. Relief washed over her when she saw Gary pulling into the driveway. She really didn’t want to go into the empty house all alone.
Oh dear. What was she going to tell Gary? If he got wind she was being threatened—even mildly—he’d be down at the police station faster than a roadrunner chasing a prairie dog. Not only that, he’d probably insist on her dropping the investigation. He might even drive her up to Tulsa to stay with his mother.
She shuddered at the idea, especially since she was so close to cracking the case and exposing Marty Fisk. Politicians. She should have known better than to trust the mayor.
Gary waited for her to get out of the car before opening the front door to the house.
“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“Why do you ask? Do I look that bad?” She pushed past him into the house.
“No, but you look like you’re upset. Did you find something out about the case today?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. Billy—remember I told you about him—almost got killed today. Someone tried to run him off the road, and I have a sneaking suspicion of who did it.”
“Who?”
“The honorable mayor, Marty Fisk, that’s who.”
“You’re kidding. How do you know?”
“I dropped by the pawn shop to talk to him today. I wanted to assure him I was only trying to help with the case. Thought he would tell Guttman to let me back in.”
Stay Sharpe Box Set Page 11
