“We’re friends. Don’t worry about Bristow. It’s just . . . Do you know how CJ got the job in Ellington?”
“He applied, like everyone else. Although knowing the chief from basic didn’t hurt him any.”
“I’ve heard rumors around the dorm about corruption in Ellington’s police department. A few of the high-school kids talked to the younger troops.”
I nodded. After CJ and I married and moved to our first assignment, it had taken me a while to get used to seeing eighteen-year-olds carrying around enormous guns. Some of the troops and high-school kids hung out together.
“I’ve heard some of the younger airmen talking about high-school kids being harassed, beaten, drugs taken and not turned in. Ellington may look picturesque, but it doesn’t mean they don’t have problems.” James gave a brief nod before hurrying into the shoppette.
The Ellington police had harassed me. If they did it to me, why not others?
After taking my purse, an officer led me to the same office I’d been to on Monday to see CJ. The desk had been removed. All that was in the room was a cot with a scratchy, stained blanket. The officer brought in a wooden chair for me to sit on. One leg was slightly shorter than the others. It rocked every time I moved. The lock clicked into place when he left.
CJ sat on the cot, leaning his back against the wall. He looked like he’d lost ten pounds and his best friend. Which I guess he had, since he had always told me I was his best friend. It hurt my heart to see him this way. I steeled myself against that kind of thinking. It wouldn’t help now.
“What’s going on with this room?” I asked, waving my hand around. “They can’t even get you a pillow?” I noticed a camera had been jury-rigged in a corner near the ceiling.
“I’m lucky to be here and not a cell in Cambridge or Billerica. Even a cell here, for that matter.”
“What’s with the camera?”
“I’m on suicide watch. Not that it’s on my mind,” CJ hurried to add. “It’s standard procedure whenever a cop is arrested. Someone checks on me every fifteen minutes, even with the camera.”
“It’s not right. I’ll ask them to let me bring you a few things.”
“They won’t let you. I’m not at camp. Even letting you in here is a breach of protocol.”
“How’d you get this job?” I asked.
CJ sat up. “What do you mean? You know how I got it. The chief asked me to apply. He knew I was getting ready to retire.” CJ rubbed a hand over his stubbled cheek.
“I’m guessing knowing the chief since boot camp didn’t hurt.”
“It didn’t. We worked closely together while I was the commander at Fitch. We appreciated each other.”
“Don’t small departments usually promote from within their own ranks?”
“Often, but not always. I got to know a lot of the guys since we moved here. We’ve gotten along well. The town always hires some fancy outside consultant to run a nationwide search.” CJ sounded defensive.
“I know your record is . . . mostly stellar—that you have the experience needed to run a department like this. What if there’s more to your being hired?”
CJ started jiggling his leg up and down.
“Come on, CJ. Something else is going on here. I’ve heard the department’s corrupt.”
“It’s a bunch of hogwash. Rumors,” CJ said.
“Like high-school kids getting pulled over. Their drugs taken, but not turned in? Beatings? Illegal body searches?”
“Why are you asking about this?”
Now what was I going to say? I didn’t want to add to his worries. But it might be too late for that now. “What if these guys thought you were corruptible after . . . after your affair with Tiffany?”
“They’d find out pretty damn fast I wasn’t corruptible.”
“I know that. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe because of the affair, everyone thought you were loosey-goosey with your morals. Or what if whoever really wanted the job and didn’t get it found a way to set you up?”
“I applied for the job before any of the trouble with Tiffany.”
It wasn’t unusual for a military member to have a job lined up before his or her official retirement. The retiree knew the day months in advance.
“These guys have my back. They’re all working overtime without pay to find out what’s really going on.”
“Or letting you think they’re doing that while they make the case against you.”
“Why?”
“Because one of them wanted the job. Your getting the job might interfere with whatever is going on in this town. Who applied from the department?”
“I don’t know. The applications are probably over at the town manager’s office. I’ve never seen them. You’re way off on this one.”
“You must have heard something about who wanted the job.”
CJ leaned back. He folded his arms over his chest.
I got up from the tippy chair, heading to the door. Angry that CJ wasn’t willing to help himself.
“Why are we divorced?” CJ asked. “You must still care, the way you’re pursuing all of this.”
I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. “We’re divorced because you broke my heart. I’m doing this because of the shirts. Don’t read anything else into it.”
CJ pushed off the cot. I yelled to the guard to unlock the door, hustling out before he could get near me.
“Sarah!”
CJ sounded beyond frustrated, but I didn’t stop until I was down the hall and knew he couldn’t follow me. I retrieved my purse. CJ hadn’t answered any of my questions. I pulled out my phone and called Stella. “I need your help.”
CHAPTER 22
After a quick shower to rinse off the thrift shop dust, I sat in Stella’s living room. I held a predinner martini, a big favorite of her family’s, according to Stella. Her aunt, the cage fighter, shared the aqua couch with me. Stella sat across from us with her other aunt, the town manager. She’d been serving them cocktails when I just happened, prearranged with Stella, to stop by. Everyone looked happy. Stella said if I wanted any information about the town and its dirty secrets, the best way to get it was lots of alcohol and a gently guided conversation. Any overt questions would cause everyone to clam up.
“So, Sarah, what do you do?” Stella’s aunt, the cage fighter, asked.
“I’m sort of between things right now.”
Stella had also warned me I was going to have to give up some personal details if I had any hope of getting anything in return. I took a large drink of my martini, having forgotten that Stella had promised to water mine down. It tasted terrible.
“She organizes garage sales for people,” Stella said. “She’s had a bit of a rough time. Be nice, you two.”
Eyebrows shot up. The town manager had a knowing look. After all, she’d warned Stella against renting to me.
“Man troubles. My husband, ex-husband, is CJ Hooker. The now-infamous Ellington police chief,” I said, “Madam Town Manager.”
Is that how you address a town manager?
She perked up a little. I guess she liked it. Stella rolled her eyes.
“I can’t imagine what you must think of him. Me.” I took another drink. Yuck, I kept forgetting how nasty this was.
“Honey, you aren’t the first woman to be taken in by a man,” the cage fighter said.
Good heaven, I’d hate to be on her bad side. It looked like she could crack heads open like they were nuts between those well-muscled thighs.
“I know he wouldn’t kill anybody. I’m sure this will all be cleared up.”
The town manager looked skeptical. “I’ve seen his résumé. He was in the air force, had multiple deployments. You think he never killed anyone?”
“He might have. That is entirely different from this.”
“You kill once, and it’s easier to kill again.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Stella shot me a look that said, Don’t argue with her.
“Like you kn
ow that for a fact,” the cage fighter said to her sister.
Stella refilled her aunts’ drinks from a cocktail shaker she’d set on the end table beside her. “If the worst happens and you have to hire a new chief, at least you probably have plenty of résumés on hand. I’m sure one of our local officers would jump at the chance.”
Thank you, Stella, for bringing the subject up.
“Not as many as you might think. We were a bit disappointed.”
The cage fighter leaned toward the town manager. “Who? Who wanted it?”
The town manager smiled, raising an eyebrow. “One of Stella’s old boyfriends, among others.”
Stella and I exchanged a look: Pellner.
“Why do you always have to be secretive?” The cage-fighting aunt asked.
The remnants of old sibling rivalry almost crackled between them. The older sister had chosen politics, the younger physical strength.
“Because I have to protect Ellington and its good name.”
“Then why did you hire an outsider?” the cage fighter asked.
The town manager glanced over at me. “At the time, I thought some fresh blood would be good for the city. Shake things up a bit. I just didn’t think he’d shake them up this much.”
“I heard there are some problems with corruption in Ellington’s police force,” I said.
Stella looked heavenward. The cage fighter grinned like Now you’re in for it. She obviously loved a good fight.
The town manager straightened herself before honing in on me. “Like any town, we have some problems. Don’t think the base doesn’t contribute to them. You know the OSI just swept up a group of base teens for distributing marijuana. Just because they haven’t found the ringleader doesn’t mean they won’t. They wouldn’t have gotten as far as they did without the help of my police department.”
I’d moved off base by the time all of that had happened. While I’d heard about it, I hadn’t paid much attention with the divorce.
“CJ always said the military is just a microcosm of the civilian world, good and bad.”
“Well, he’s right about that,” the town manger said.
After leaving Stella’s, I ran upstairs to my apartment. I called Laura. “Tell me about the drug bust on base.”
One of the many things I liked about Laura was that even though she knew the base gossip, she didn’t spread it around like MaryJo did. She wouldn’t tell me anything she didn’t think she should.
“They snared five high-school kids and one airman from the dorm. One of the kids moved here from Los Angeles Air Force Base. He’s supposedly the one who had the connections.”
“No adults were involved?”
“No one anyone is willing to talk about. They put a ton of pressure on those kids. All of them were kicked off base. They were told they’d go easy on them if they gave up the bigger fish.”
“They wouldn’t?”
“They all denied knowing anyone up the food chain. Places to drop and pick up the drugs were prearranged. No one saw who made the drops. They were told if they tried to find out, they’d be in big trouble. The kid from LA was as high, pardon my pun, as they ever got. He’s a tough cookie. Wouldn’t talk. Why are you asking?”
“I just wondered if it had anything to do with Jessica’s death or with Tiffany.”
“Not that I know of. Other than the usual endless speculation, I haven’t heard anything like that.”
“Thanks, Laura. I’ll let you go.” Darn, I was hoping for something more.
By the time I got off the phone with Laura, my stomach rumbled wildly. I headed over to DiNapoli’s. The place was unusually quiet for six o’clock at night. A young girl was at the counter instead of Rosalie, which might explain why the place was empty. I ordered a Greek salad with grilled chicken to go, since Rosalie wasn’t around. I sat at a table for two to wait. Meat sizzled when Angelo slapped the chicken on the grill. I hadn’t realized how much I was counting on Rosalie’s warm presence.
Angelo brought over my salad, on a plate, not packed to go. “I’m guessing you came to see Rosalie. She’s over in Cambridge at her sister’s.”
I nodded, a lump in my throat preventing me from speaking. I took a deep breath and a drink of water from the glass Angelo had brought.
“You need some wine?”
I shook my head no.
Angelo pulled out a chair, sitting across from me while I picked at the salad.
“What? You don’t like my chicken?”
“No, it’s just—”
“I’m teasing you. Everyone loves my chicken.” He leaned across the table and patted my hand. “You have a stomach problem? Have you eaten over at Tony’s in Billerica? You don’t know what you’re getting at Tony’s. He cuts corners. Watch his cheese. A lot of it is blue, if you know what I mean.”
“I wouldn’t cheat on your food with Tony’s.”
“Good thing or you might end up at Lahey.”
I didn’t think Tony’s food was bad enough to land me in the hospital, but I wouldn’t take the chance.
“Your heart is still broken.”
I opened my mouth to answer.
“Of course it is.”
I nodded.
“If it isn’t your stomach and you can’t eat my chicken, it must be your head. Does it hurt?”
I almost smiled.
“You look worried, like you’re feeling sorry for yourself.” He shook a finger at me when I started to deny it. “I’m not asking you to tell me what’s going on. My father always said, ‘If you mess with the bull, you get the horns.’” Angelo put his fingers up by his head and made a jabbing motion like he was a bull. “Don’t sit around feeling sorry for yourself. Be the bull.”
CHAPTER 23
I carried my barely touched salad and a large chunk of tiramisu that Angelo insisted I take across the common. James sat on the front porch of my apartment building. So much for Agent Bristow’s instructions to stay away from me. He stood when he saw me approach. Dressed in worn jeans and a T-shirt, he looked less serious than he did in his uniform.
“I felt bad about this afternoon and wanted to check on you.”
“Come on up.” James might open up more in the privacy of my apartment. Angelo had just told me to be the bull. Finding out what James knew might help me find a way out of this for CJ. And for myself.
I divided the tiramisu and asked James to uncork a bottle of Chianti. I set plates of tiramisu on the kitchen table while James poured two glasses of wine.
“You didn’t have to feed me.”
“Angelo just gave this to me. I don’t want it to go to waste.” Or waist, if I ate the whole thing myself.
We ate in silence for a bit. From Stella’s apartment, we could hear someone singing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” over and over. The female voice would stop. I could hear Stella demonstrating a note with her clear tone. I wondered if she coached the Pellners’ daughter.
“Does that drive you nuts?” James asked.
“Not usually.” I paused. “Do they have any suspects in Jessica’s murder?”
James put his fork down and leaned back in his chair. It looked to me like he was trying to get as far away from me as possible without moving his chair.
“They’re looking at CJ. His fingerprints were on the statue.”
“Of course they were. It belonged to us. Mine were probably on it too.”
“And Tiffany’s.”
“Any unidentified?”
“No.”
“Which means whoever did this could have worn gloves,” I said.
“It’s a possibility. I don’t think anyone is pushing that theory too hard.”
“Someone told me Major Walker isn’t too interested in Jessica’s murder. Did you get that impression?”
James shrugged. “She’s leaving next week. The new commander will be here. I think she’s moved on mentally.”
“She worked for CJ for a year. He got her the deployment that led to her in-residence
slot at Air Command and Staff College.” Going to ACSC in residence, instead of taking the course online, almost guaranteed she’d pin on lieutenant colonel when the time came. “How could she possibly think he murdered someone?”
“No one would have ever thought of CJ as a cheater, either. Some people think if he could do that, he could do this.”
“If that’s the thinking on base, he’s screwed,” I said.
“It’s not everyone. A group of us is still working hard to find the truth. Don’t discount everyone because of Major Walker.”
“I can’t figure out why Tiffany had the statue, that she had it sitting in her room, where someone would have seen it. If she had it in her room, why didn’t Jessica know it?”
The round space in the dust on Tiffany’s bookshelf?
It was the perfect size for the base of the statue. Someone, at some point, had taken it and then rearranged the pictures to make it look like nothing was missing.
“What?” James asked.
“I think she kept it on her bookshelf. Anyone could have taken it. The murderer.” I cleared our plates, putting them into the sink with a growing number of dishes that needed to be washed.
James leaped up to help. He nudged me out of the way and filled the sink with soapy water. “Jessica might have known Tiffany had it and didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Even I’m starting to think that statue is cursed.”
James looked over his shoulder as he started washing the dishes.
“I didn’t believe it, either, at first.” I filled him in on the statue’s history. “So Tiffany took it, and she’s dead. Jessica might have taken it from Tiffany. Or maybe Tiffany gave it to her. Either way she ended up dead.”
I grabbed a dish towel to start drying.
“Why would Tiffany take it? It could have ruined her career if she stole something from your house.”
“I think she’d already done a good job of that by sleeping with CJ.”
“I was at the bowling alley the night they, uh . . .”
“Slept together?”
Sarah Winston Garage Sale 01 - Tagged for Death Page 16
