Hazardous Duty

by Christy Barritt

  “Claims he was blackmailed. Doesn’t know who threatened him. Said they’d tell his wife about his pregnant girlfriend if he didn’t do it.”

  I let what he said sink in. It amounted to nothing. My shoulders slumped. “So, his wife would forgive him for killing someone before she’d forgive him for having an affair? That makes no sense.”

  “Whoever contacted him said you wouldn’t be hurt. They just wanted to scare you. Apparently, they sent him pictures taken of him and his mistress. Threatened to send them to his wife, also.”

  “And he has no idea who the person is?”

  “Their only contact was over the phone. We’re checking his phone records now.”

  I lowered myself on the couch and buried my face in my hands, exhaustion weighing on me. A hand covered my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “I’m not sure anymore.”

  Parker’s fingers circled my arm and pulled me to my feet. “Come on. I’m going to get you something to eat, then take you home.”

  Now that he mentioned it, a warm dinner did sound nice. I walked with him into the balmy night. Though the temperature was probably 75 degrees, I shivered. Parker slipped his coat off and placed it over my shoulders. He directed me toward a red Viper.

  As soon as we started down the road, I started in on my own interrogation. “How did you track down the mechanic?”

  “Through the car’s VIN.”

  “Did you arrest him?”

  “With your identification and the fact he purchased the car you cleaned, it seems pretty cut and dried.”

  “But he has no idea who blackmailed him?”

  Parker shook his head. “No idea. They used an electronic voice modifier. We’re checking the photos for fingerprints now, but I doubt we’ll find any. Whoever’s doing this seems pretty thorough.”

  We pulled to a stop. I glanced out the window in time to see a man reaching for my door. I gasped and jerked away.

  “It’s just the valet, love.” Parker winked at me with an amused half-smile.

  Heat rose on my cheeks. “I guess I’m a little jumpy lately.”

  I stepped out, mumbling an apology to the boy. Parker tossed his keys to him. We entered Freemason Abby, an old church building converted into a restaurant. Stained-glass windows, rich burgundy carpet, and walnut stained wood trim adorned the century old building. I’d only been inside once before and it was for a lunch special. At night, the place made me feel like someone of high society. And totally out of place in my standard jeans and flip flops.

  We were seated in the corner. Parker leaned back and stretched his arm across the wooden booth. “How are you doing, Gabby? Really.”

  “The BTK Strangler’s free, huh?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” I shook my head. “I’m okay. It’s been a rough week.”

  He took a sip of water. “You need to take it easy. Give yourself a chance to deal with everything’s that happened.”

  “I’ll take it easy as soon as Harold’s cleared of all charges.”

  “All the evidence is stacked against him. It doesn’t look good, especially since he already has a record.”

  “I’ll prove he’s innocent, if it’s that last thing I do.”

  I was like Javert trying to track down Jean Valjean. Nothing would stand in my way.

  Silence fell. Parker twirled his ice water before leaning forward, his voice low and serious. “Why do you think someone wants to kill you, Gabby?”

  “Because I know about the gun.”

  “But I know about the gun. No one’s come after me.”

  “Yes, but maybe the murderer can see that you’re still focused on Newsome. I’m the only one pushing you in another direction. If he can shut me up, you’ll let the whole inquiry about the gun drop.”

  He sighed and leaned back. “I didn’t say I was going to let it drop.”

  “You’ve already let it drop. The only man the evidence points to is walking the streets scot-free and you’re not doing a thing about it.”

  The waitress set our soda on the table. I took my straw and impaled a slice of lemon while Parker took a long sip.

  “Cunningham isn’t guilty, Gabby. I don’t know how the gun got there, but it wasn’t because Cunningham used it.”

  “Did you fingerprint it?”

  “Yeah and, of course, his prints are everywhere. It’s his gun, for goodness sake.”

  “What about the blood?”

  “What about the blood, Nancy Drew? It doesn’t prove anything.”

  I shifted, tired of his nickname, but even more tired of his disregard for my opinion. “Why are you so determined to protect Cunningham? Does he hold a spell over you?”

  His gaze darkened. “No, because I’m a professional and I know a killer when I see one.”

  “Then why does someone want me dead? Can you tell me that, detective? If that gun I found means nothing, why does someone want to shut me up?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it’s unrelated to the case.”

  Indignation forced my spine rigid. “You’ve got to be kidding me? That’s your theory? Someone is trying to kill me just for fun—there’s no other reason to explain the events that have happened?”

  Parker glanced around the room, and I realized I’d practically shouted at him. Too bad.

  He leaned toward me. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not the most sensitive guy in the world. But I’m only trying to get you to look at things from a different angle.”

  I drew in a breath, willing myself to calm down. “Then tell me what other angle there is, detective. How do you explain three attempts on my life?”

  The perky waitress appeared again. “Are you ready to order?”

  Parker looked at me for an answer and I shrugged. As Parker rattled off something from the menu, I echoed his order. The waitress took our menus and, as soon as she disappeared, Parker leaned forward and lowered his voice.

  “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Gabby. I know you think I’m working against you. But whoever’s committing these crimes isn’t someone you want to mess with.”

  His words repeated in my mind, until I realized what he said. “You don’t think Newsome did it. He’s in jail.”

  Parker remained silent.

  “Admit it. I need to hear you say it.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t understand about police work.”

  “Help me understand then.”

  He ran a hand through his gelled hair. “It’s complicated.”

  “Try me.”

  “There was a lot of pressure in the Cunningham case. They’re a powerful family. The chief demanded someone be charged with the crime. Everything points to Newsome.”

  “But?”

  His jaw flexed and I could see the internal struggle going on. “It seems too perfect, you know?”

  “So do something.”

  “The chief won’t back down. He’s convinced it’s Newsome. The press is satisfied. City residents are satisfied. I should be satisfied.”

  “Isn’t this where you step up with bravado and do what’s right, no matter the cost?”

  “I wish it were that easy.”

  “Who do you think did it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Cunningham.”

  “The angle the bullet went into his leg makes it unlikely for him to have shot himself.”

  “Maybe his wife shot him first.”

  He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Do me a favor and let me handle it, okay? I don’t need you to go chasing after a killer.”

  “He’s chasing after me.”

  Parker shook his head. “You’re a spitfire, you know.”

  “A mess. A spitfire. A Nancy Drew wannabe. You have lots of names for me.” I thought of another name he could throw in—Stubborn. I didn’t bother to suggest it.

  He grinned. “Only cause I like you.”

  “I would have thought I was your number one enemy.”

  “I thought abra
siveness would discourage you. It didn’t work.”

  The server set our she-crab soup in front of us. The conversation stayed generic for the rest of dinner. My anxieties melted as I found out more about Parker. Despite his earlier gruffness, I found out he loved snowboarding, fiercely supported the New York Yankees, and had been married once before.

  The marriage part didn’t really surprise me. A man who looked like Parker was bound to have a long history with women. He didn’t seem like the type to settle down.

  With our plates empty, Parker extended his hand. “You ready to head home?”

  I stood and, a few moments later, we were in his Viper. I looked around the car, wondering where the detective got money for it. And for a restaurant like Freemason, for that matter. Maybe I should start singing, “Hey, Big Spender” instead of “Send in the Clowns” when he was around.

  “Nice set of wheels you have here,” I said when he climbed inside.

  “Yeah, she’s my baby.” He rubbed his hand down the console. “I’ve always wanted one of these, since the first time I laid eyes on one.”

  “New?”

  We started down the road. “Yeah. Some people would say it’s a waste to spend all of your money on a car, but I disagree. I feel like a million bucks when I’m driving this girl.”

  “I always wondered why someone would spend gobs of money on a car that can go from zero to sixty in a few seconds.”

  “Three point nine, to be exact.”

  “Do you just want to get to the next stoplight faster?”

  Parker chuckled. “It’s a guy thing. It’s just the fact that we can get there faster.”

  “Ah, I see. Male egotism. Wanting to be better, stronger, more capable so you can take down the next guy. Makes perfect sense.”

  Parker glanced at me. “Have you always been so direct?”

  “No, only around you.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “They say flattery will get me everywhere.”

  “I think it’s nowhere. Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “They have their sayings, I have mine.”

  He chuckled again. “You’re a mess. You know that?”

  “So I’ve been told, Detective.”

  “You could call me Chip, you know.”

  I smiled. “I like Parker better.”

  As we neared my apartment, he ran through a list of safety precautions, from double-checking my locks to not going anywhere alone. When we pulled up to my apartment, I expected him to leave his car running. He cut the engine and stepped out. Low and behold, he was going to walk me to the door.

  Maybe I had been too quick to judge him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I’d like to check out everything in your apartment, just to be safe,” Parker said.

  We walked inside. “I appreciate it.”

  Parker took my keys and opened my apartment door. “Wait here.”

  I nodded as he stepped inside my apartment. Behind me, I could hear the muted sound of a TV from Riley’s apartment. Lucky squawked. I wondered what my neighbor had done this evening.

  Parker stuck his head through the doorway. “It’s all clear. You can come in.”

  He stepped aside and I squeezed past, catching a whiff of his leathery aftershave. “Would you like some coffee?” The words surprised even myself.

  Parker flashed his million dollar smile. “I’d love some. But only on one condition—no talking about this case.”

  It sounded fair. “Agreed.”

  I started a hazelnut brew while Parker lingered in the living room. “You like jigsaw puzzles, I see.”

  “My neighbor insisted we work on it today. After my scare yesterday, people haven’t wanted to let me out of their sight.”

  Parker leaned in the doorway. “They’ve got the right idea. You’re lucky to have friends like that.”

  Riley and Sierra’s faces flashed through my mind. “Yes, I am.”

  “They say the best protection against crime is a nosy neighbor.”

  “Then we should be pretty safe here in this building.”

  Parker reached for my hand. “How are your burns?” He gently rubbed the skin around my wound.

  “They’re healing.”

  He touched the skin at my temple. It had been rubbed raw from thrashing around in the trunk. “You’re going to have some badges of courage, it appears.”

  I never thought of them like that. “You have any?”

  He touched his arm. “Yeah, a couple. I was shot in the arm my first year doing patrol. A murder suspect fled the crime scene. I chased him. Backup still hadn’t arrived. I went into an abandoned building. Couldn’t see a thing. Before I realized the situation I put myself in, I had a bullet in my arm.” He lowered his voice. “It’s why I don’t want you involved in this case. I know how dangerous it is. If that man hadn’t been a bad shot, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “I want to be a forensic scientist,” I blurted. “I know you think I’m just nosy, but I want to solve crimes for a living. This isn’t a passing phase.”

  He stepped closer. His eyes held a new emotion, one that surprisingly intrigued me. “Then what’s stopping you?”

  “Time, money.”

  “You don’t seem like the kind of person who lets anything stop you once you have your mind set.”

  The smell of coffee filled the room, and I turned to pour some, grateful for the distraction. Parker’s cell phone beeped as I handed him a mug.

  “Excuse me.” He stepped into the living room. A few seconds later, he snapped the phone shut and approached me. “I have to go.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “There’s a homicide at the beach.” He nodded toward the untouched coffee mug. “Rain check?”

  I nodded and slipped his jacket off. “Rain check.”

  ***

  When my alarm went off the next morning, I could hardly move. Exhaustion zapped my energy, and I played with the idea of spending today in bed. A sense of urgency wouldn’t allow me to, though. I didn’t have any time to waste in proving Harold innocent.

  I pulled on some shorts and a T-shirt, and set out on a morning jog. Running always seemed to steady my emotions and clear my head. I’d engaged in the activity after watching the movie, “Forrest Gump.” Forrest said he ran to put the past behind him, which sounded like a good idea to me. And that’s all I had to say about that.

  Sunday mornings weren’t as busy in Ghent. The normal buzz of cars and pedestrians disappeared as people slept in or lingered in front of their TV sets. I passed a few regulars out walking their dogs or taking a late morning run.

  With each cadence, my tension eased. I wondered what Riley was doing at church. His car wasn’t in the parking lot, so I assumed that’s where he went. I could picture him in a massive cathedral, organ playing, and people trying to appear holy.

  Only Riley didn’t seem like that.

  But that still didn’t mean Christianity was for me. Life hadn’t pointed me toward a loving God. If there was a God, he was a harsh dictator who enjoyed watching His children suffer, more akin to Adolf Hitler than Mother Teresa. I’d stick with my faith in science. It made more sense.

  I rounded the corner, enjoying pushing my muscles to the limit. Even the glaring sun didn’t bother me as I moved along. Just being outside invigorated me.

  I replayed last evening. I couldn’t believe how much I’d enjoyed talking with Parker. He’d been an engaging conversationalist and a good listener.

  I compared Riley and Parker, realizing how different both were. Riley was laid-back, good-natured. He had a boy-next-door aura about him. Parker, on the other hand, had movie star good looks and charm he turned on and off.

  My apartment came into view. I’d run two miles. Now, I needed coffee. I jogged across the street.

  I ordered a large iced mocha. As I waited, several families came inside wearing dresses and suits. The church across the street must have just gotten out. The members had left a bad t
aste in my mouth on more than one occasion.

  I’d been in several arguments with attendees who’d insisted on parking at the apartment building, effectively leaving me without a space, though signs clearly stated parking was for residents only. Plus, Sharon, the coffeehouse owner, dreaded Sundays, she’d told me once. Christians were the worst tippers, often leaving tracks in place of money. They were also high-maintenance, complaining over the smallest discrepancy. They might sing about amazing grace, but they sure didn’t live it.

  I grabbed my order when it was up and walked to my apartment. Riley opened his door as I pounded upstairs.

  “I can’t take my eye off of you for a minute, can I?” he asked.

  “They found the mechanic who locked me in the car. I had to go identify him.”

  His gaze brightened. “That’s great.”

  “He was blackmailed. He has no idea who put him up to it.”

  “There’s always a trail.”

  I nodded and let my gaze travel down Riley. He wore a T-shirt and jeans. Where was church boy’s suit and tie? I wondered. “So much for church, huh?”

  He glanced down at his clothes. “I went.”

  “I see. Bedside Baptist?”

  He chuckled. “No, a community church that meets at a school down the street, actually.”

  I stored away the information. Either Riley was sorely underdressed, or his church was casual.

  “So, how about lunch? You owe me one since you stood me up on Friday.” Riley waited for my answer.

  “Give me thirty minutes.”

  “They’re all yours.”

  ***

  Riley and I sat across from each other at a Mexican restaurant down the street. Cheerful mariachi music blared through speakers above as we enjoyed some chips and salsa. A mural of a Mexican fiesta colored the walls and paper lanterns hung from the ceiling. How could you not feel happy coming to this restaurant?

  “What else did they tell you about the man they arrested?” Riley asked, taking a sip of his soda.

  “Nothing really. He cheated on his wife and the blackmailer threatened to expose him unless he locked me in the trunk.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “He must have been desperate to keep his fling a secret.”

  I shrugged. “The blackmailer said I wasn’t going to die. They just wanted to scare me.”