Of course, there was the possibility that Rose suspected an affair, but didn’t suspect Marcy.
“Hello, Chief.”
He turned to find the sultry voice belonged to that attorney McBirney had recently hired as township solicitor. The woman in the ridiculous shoes who had been at McBirney’s side during the supervisors’ meeting. And during the media circus at the station when Sylvia had been arrested. What the hell was her name?
“Elizabeth Sunday, Esquire,” she said, as if reading his mind. She extended a hand bearing several glittery rings and long, red nails.
When he took the hand, the intensity of her grip surprised him. “Ms. Sunday. You know Zoe Chambers?”
The lawyer offered Zoe a cool nod. “Such a senseless thing, this murder.” Her words were directed to Pete.
Beside him, Zoe stiffened. He caught her hand before she did something stupid. Like slugging the attorney.
“Where’s your client?” Pete said.
She raised one eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“McBirney.”
“Oh. I have no idea. And Mr. McBirney is not my client. I represent the interests of the residents of Vance Township.”
Several smart-assed comments collided in Pete’s brain, begging for their chance in the spotlight, but he decided under the circumstances, silence might be the best alternative.
“I see that Mrs. Bassi has been released from custody,” Elizabeth said. “I’m glad. Ted Bassi’s death has been such a tragedy for his family. There’s no reason she should be incarcerated during this time. It’s not like she’s a flight risk.”
“And it’s not like she actually did anything wrong,” Zoe challenged.
Pete winced as Zoe’s fingers tightened around his. He gave her hand a gentle shake to remind her he was there. She loosened her grip with a quick apologetic grin.
“That isn’t up to us to decide, is it, Miss Chambers?” Elizabeth responded. “Well, Chief, it was lovely to see you, as always. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to offer my condolences to the bereaved family.” She glided away, hips swaying in a tight skirt. Pete’s attempt to avoid staring was only modestly successful.
Zoe’s fingers tensed again, redirecting Pete’s concentration. “Easy, will ya? That’s my hand, not her throat, you’re crushing.”
“Sorry. I can’t believe she’d have the gall to show up.”
“She probably considers it a professional courtesy. Besides—and don’t break my hand for saying this—but as much as I don’t care for her either, most of what she’s done has simply been her job.”
“Yeah, but it’s a job Jerry hired her for when everyone else in the township was happy with our old solicitor. She’s another one of Jerry McBirney’s puppets.”
“Guilt by association?”
Zoe huffed. “Something like that.”
Someone bumped them from behind. Pete turned. An elderly gentleman mumbled an apology. Pete realized they were holding up the procession of mourners making their way toward the casket. He smiled his own apology at the man and caught Zoe’s elbow, edging her forward.
“What do you think is going to happen to Sylvia?” Zoe asked.
“I wish I knew. I think Judge Mitchell would have thrown the case out if she hadn’t used her purse to deck McBirney.” While Pete would have enjoyed seeing it, he also wished Sylvia had been smarter than to clobber McBirney in front of the judge.
A pair of women, neighbors of Rose’s mother, paused on their way out to exchange pleasantries with Zoe and Pete. A trickle of sweat rolled down Pete’s neck. The pack of humanity created more heat than a Pennsylvania coal furnace, and Pete regretted keeping his coat on. At least the line progressed at a steady pace as people appeared eager to get in and get out.
Zoe looked around. “I wonder where Logan went.”
The group of high school boys had vanished. “Probably outside to get some air.” Pete couldn’t say that he blamed them.
“Yeah. A couple of his buddies smoke. They think it’s cool.”
“Some things never change. Except now to be cool you have to freeze your ass off outside to feed your habit.”
Elizabeth Sunday had reached the front of the line. Pete hoped he wouldn’t be called in to break up any wrestling matches.
“Sylvia better behave herself,” Zoe whispered in his ear, echoing his thoughts.
Rose’s solemn expression grew stony when the attorney stepped up to her, offering a hand and a pat on the shoulder. The constant hum of conversation around him blocked his ability to hear the exchange between the women.
Zoe nudged him. “What do you think Elizabeth Sunday, Esquire is saying?”
“Something right out of an etiquette book. Proper and polite.”
“And with all the sincerity of a top notch con artist.”
“Con artist. Lawyer. Not much difference.”
Zoe leaned into him and stifled her laugh against his arm. The innocent display of intimacy stirred an impulse to put a comforting arm around her. He resisted it, but made a mental note to ask her out on a real date when this mess was settled. Not just a cheeseburger at Parson’s, but a night in the city. Show her around his old turf.
Pete felt the approach of trouble even before he heard the voice.
“Hello, Chief. I knew I’d find you here,” Detective Baronick said.
“And why would you bother trying to find me here?” Any news the county detective had brought could certainly wait for a more appropriate time and place.
“Police business. We need to talk.”
“Not here.”
Zoe still leaned against Pete’s arm, and he felt every muscle in her body tense.
Baronick flashed one of his lady-killer smiles at her, which did nothing to improve Pete’s mood. “Hello, Miss Chambers. It’s nice to see you again, although I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
“Did you find Ted’s killer?” she asked.
His smile faded. “Sorry. No. This is about the computer theft.” He turned back to Pete. “If not here, where? Shall we step outside?”
Elizabeth Sunday had completed her social duties and vanished into the crowd. They were next in line, but the old woman in front of them was weeping in Rose’s arms. This could take a while.
“In a minute,” he told the detective.
“I’m sorry, Chief, but I’m pressed for time. We busted seven mid-level dealers today and I’ll be up all night processing them. I made the effort to drive out here for this, because I thought you might need my assistance.”
“In a minute,” he repeated. The young detective’s arrogance pissed him off even without the added suggestion that Pete’s skills were inadequate to deal with local matters.
Baronick scowled. “Fine. I’ll wait out front. I trust you’ll make it snappy.”
The only thing Pete wanted to snap was Baronick’s sanctimonious neck. But the detective’s fast exit saved them both from the paperwork involved in officer-on-officer violence.
Pete turned to Zoe, intending to apologize, but her face had lost its color. “Are you all right?”
She offered a quick nod and stepped back. “It’s the heat in here.”
True. Pete’s own damp clothing clung to his skin. But he sensed the heat wasn’t Zoe’s issue. He wished he knew what was.
The woman in front of them released Rose and was embracing Sylvia. He moved forward.
“Chief,” Rose said, “I’m so glad you were able to come.”
He held her hand, small but strong, and offered his condolences.
“Is there any news? I noticed that detective was here.”
“No, nothing about Ted’s case.”
She sighed. “Did you notice who else was just here?”
“Ms. Sunday. I saw
her.”
“The nerve of that woman.” Rose’s eyes glistened with tears.
Pete wasn’t sure if they were tears of grief or anger. “You handled yourself with remarkable grace.”
“Grace my ass. I didn’t want to disrespect my husband’s memory by starting a brawl here and now.”
Tears of anger. No doubt about it. He smiled and gave her a gentle hug. “Atta girl.”
Releasing Rose, Pete moved on to her mother, Bert, a pale woman whose skin now appeared almost blue. Good thing there was a paramedic on the premises.
Sylvia was next. She gave Pete a long, sorrowful gaze. “Tell me this is a nightmare, Pete. Tell me I’m going to wake up and shake my head at the absurdity of it all.”
“I wish I could.” He embraced his old friend. “I will promise you one thing. We will get this guy.”
“I know you will. And I know you and the boys are still working on it even though County’s taken over the case.”
Pete feigned innocence. “I would never go behind the backs of the Monongahela County Detectives Bureau. You know me better than that.”
“Of course I do.” She winked at him. “Get outta here. Go toss that bastard Jerry McBirney in jail. Preferably the same holding cell I was in.”
“Sylvia,” he chided. “Did you booby trap my station?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“I don’t suppose you noticed anything odd during the time you were being released?”
“Odd? What’s odder than an old woman claiming her personal possessions after being detained for defending the honor of her dead son?”
She had a point. “Someone broke into the evidence room.”
Sylvia’s face lost its ruddiness. “I-I’ve been a little distracted,” she stuttered. “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Who?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Along with how.”
“What did they take?”
“The computer.”
“My computer?”
“Well, the one you borrowed and returned.”
She curled her lip. “Don’t start prettying it up. It’s the one I was falsely accused of stealing and had confiscated from my home. That one?”
“That one.”
“And now someone else stole it? Can this situation get any more bizarre? You know, of course, it was McBirney who did it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He’s covering his behind. There’s something on that computer that links him to my boy’s murder, and he doesn’t want anyone finding out what that is.”
Precisely what Pete already suspected. “That’s one possibility.”
“It’s the only possibility, Pete.” She stared at him with pleading eyes. “Catch him, will you?”
“I will.” He kissed her cheek and turned away before she caught a glimpse of his inner conflict. If McBirney had been behind the break-in, there was little question regarding his accomplice. The smallish woman in the oversized, hooded coat. Pete admittedly harbored resentment toward his ex-wife, but he resisted the nagging voice in his gut telling him she was involved in this burglary up to her beautiful eyeballs.
And if the break-in and theft were connected to the murder…
Pete shook it off. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea that Baronick take over this case. Much as Pete hated to admit it, he wasn’t the most objective investigator at the moment.
His gaze swept the room, searching for Zoe. She’d been at his side until he spoke with Rose. He assumed she’d stepped away to greet other visitors. He wanted to…well, what exactly did he want with Zoe? He remembered the sensation of her breasts pressing against his arm. Her fragrance—vanilla and something else earthy—lingered in his nostrils. Maybe it was time he stopped punishing himself for the mistakes he’d made with Marcy. Maybe…
And yet, there was something going on with Zoe, something he couldn’t define. He wanted time alone with her, to talk to her and convince her to trust him with her secrets.
But where was she? The room was packed. Still, he knew he could pick Zoe Chambers out of a crowd in any given second.
If she’d been there.
THIRTEEN
Zoe white-knuckled the steering wheel as she approached the farm. Snowflakes caught the headlights, cutting white streaks through the black of night, and the road sported icy patches. While four-wheel-drive had its benefits, braking on ice wasn’t one of them. As if to confirm her fears, a dark sedan appeared to have slid off the road a hundred yards or so from the turn onto the farm lane. She slowed and craned her neck to see if someone might be slumped over the wheel. But there wasn’t anyone around the car. The driver must have snagged a ride back to town.
Good. She didn’t want to deal with a stranded motorist right now. She had enough to worry about. Like how long before the thief discovered all he had was a useless shell? Then, that detective with all his questions showed up at the funeral home. The only solution was to find the truth buried in the hard drive before Ted’s murderer figured out where the incriminating evidence was hidden.
She worked the gas feed and the steering wheel, encouraging the old truck to dig in and climb the winding lane to the farmhouse. Bouncing over the ruts and spinning on the hard-packed snow, she made it to her parking spot next to the Krolls’ white SUV.
The light was on in the enclosed back porch. Zoe stomped the snow from her dress boots on the door mat. She was about to insert the key into her lock when the Kroll’s door at the other end of the porch swung open.
“Zoe? Is that you?” Mrs. Kroll pulled a terrycloth bathrobe tighter around her thin shoulders.
“Yeah, it’s me. How are you feeling, Mrs. Kroll?”
The older woman sighed. “Sick of winter. Otherwise, I’m holding up. I’m surprised to see you. I thought you were already in for the night.”
“I was at the funeral home.”
“Oh. Ted Bassi. Yes. I’m so sorry about that. How are Rose and the kids?”
“As well as can be expected.” No use going into details. Especially on an unheated porch with Mrs. Kroll in her pajamas.
“I understand.” The landlady nodded. “Well, dear, you know I never like to complain, but that friend staying with you has been rather noisy. Could you please ask them to be a bit quieter?”
“Friend? What are you talking about?”
Mrs. Kroll tipped her head toward Zoe’s side of the house. “Don’t you have someone visiting? There was some banging around going on a few minutes ago. I thought maybe you were moving furniture. That’s why I was surprised to see you pull in.” She inhaled sharply. “Oh, dear. If you don’t have anyone visiting—oh, dear—perhaps someone’s broken in. Should I call the police?”
Logan.
Zoe had assumed the kid had left the funeral home with his buddies from school. Now she realized he’d slipped off once again to come here and work on the computer. Rose was going to skin both of them.
“No, that’s okay.” Zoe offered her a reassuring smile. “I know who it is. Don’t worry.”
“Well, good. But do ask him to keep it down, will you?”
“Of course. I’m sorry. Goodnight, Mrs. Kroll.”
Once her landlady had disappeared into her half of the house, Zoe braced to give Logan a verbal thrashing. She placed her hand on the door knob and sure enough, it wasn’t locked. Throwing it open, she stormed in. “Logan,” she called, using her best I’m Going to Kill You voice.
The living room was empty. And dark. The door between it and her office was closed. Odd. She always kept that door blocked open. Light filtered under it. A crash and the thud of retreating footsteps sent her heart rate into overdrive. Someone was in her house. And it wasn’t Logan.
A burglar? Or Jerry McBirney?
Another door sque
aked open. He was escaping through her office’s other door into the center hallway. From there, would he burst into the Kroll’s side of the house? Or make his getaway by way of the front door?
Zoe charged toward her office and tripped. An indignant yowl filled the room as a disgruntled Merlin bolted for the kitchen.
She hit the door, expecting it to swing wide. Instead, it caught on something. What the hell? She put her shoulder into the door and heaved it open enough to squeeze through.
She gasped at the sight of the room. Her office chair had been flung on its side against the door, no doubt to impede her pursuit of the intruder. The computer tower had been pulled out of its cubby. A side panel had been removed leaving its electronic innards exposed. Disconnected wires sprawled lifeless beside it.
The rarely used front door of the farmhouse screeched open and banged shut. Footsteps pounded across the front porch and faded down the steps.
Zoe paused only a moment to stare at the mess before stepping over it. She charged into the hallway.
Unlike the back porch, the front one was unlit. She hit the switch on the way out, but the light revealed nothing except an expanse of white and a solitary set of boot tracks, which were quickly filling in with fat snowflakes, leading down the porch steps and disappearing across the sloped yard into the darkness. In the distance, she heard a car start.
The dark sedan she’d thought was stuck. She made out the glow of red taillights through the ancient pines that shaded the front yard in warmer months. The whirl of spinning tires digging into ice floated up to her, and the car sped away.
Crap.
She retreated into the house and was met by Mr. Kroll. Jade squirmed in his arms.
“What’s going on? Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“Are you sure? Bernice said you had a noisy friend visiting.”
“Yes, well, he’s gone now.”
“Uh huh.” He sounded doubtful. Very little got by Mr. Kroll. But he also made a point of minding his own business. “I suppose you want this back?” He nodded to the cat.
Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery) Page 13
