"Fine." Deg bypassed Ray, taking the lead as he followed the librarian to the classroom.
Ray caught up. "What's this about? You taking over?"
"She hates you. Let me give it a shot." He smiled. "More flies with syrup, my man."
Ray exhaled a brief laugh. "That's honey."
"No, she's no honey of mine."
Ray saw the twinkle in Deg's eyes and decided to take a backseat for the conversation. Perhaps Deg's more subdued interviewing techniques would work with the woman.
Ironmonger sat behind the desk at the front of the room, leaving the detectives to stand. All of the chairs in the room were sized for children.
Ray believed she was drawing battle lines. He pulled one of the desks over, tested its strength, then used it as a bench, effectively giving himself an elevated position and not standing in front of the desk looking subservient.
Deg elected to stand, but repositioned himself next to the woman, crowding her space.
She pushed her chair a couple feet away. "Now, like I said, what are you doing here? I answered your questions, and I happen to know you were back last week talking to my principal."
"Mrs. Peers is still dead, and you're a suspect," Deg said, his voice dripping with sweetness.
"What in the hell do you mean, I'm a suspect?"
Deg held up a finger, but his tone didn't change. "First, and with all due respect, we have reason to believe you are abusing your fundraising privileges, especially with the volunteer staff."
"Those women are trouble makers. Crouch explained that to you."
"Possibly." Deg held up a second finger. "Your initial interview showed little or no cooperation."
"That's just your partner's opinion."
Another finger. "Third, Mrs. Peers took issue with your methods and complained in writing." Deg smiled. "Now, it occurs to us that your avoidance of the fundraising issues, coupled with your attitude, suggest motive."
Ironmonger's face darkened and her mouth tightened. She said, through clenched teeth, "I've never heard anything so ridiculous."
Ray restrained his urge to smirk. He found the woman predictable.
Deg acted as if she hadn't spoken. "We checked in the office, and they don't recall your being at work the day Mrs. Peers died."
"I don't have to answer these questions."
"Actually, ma'am, you do," Ray said, rising to his feet. "You can answer them here, or we'll put on some cuffs and take you in." He infused impatience and anger into his voice.
Deg shook his head, holding a hand up to Ray as if signaling him to back off.
Ray did, yielding to Deg's good guy routine.
"Ms. Ironmonger, what my partner is saying, is that we'd rather not have to take you to the station. It's inconvenient. But, if it's what you want, we can do it. I have another case to work on, but I'm sure Detective Stone can make time for you."
Ironmonger shifted in her chair, stiffening her back. "What do you want to know?"
"Where were you between ten in the morning and two in the afternoon on the day Mrs. Peers died?"
After pulling a smartphone from her pocket, she tapped the screen. "That was a week ago last Wednesday, and you're only asking now. What's wrong with you people?"
"Answer the question." Deg's voice was mellow, almost kind.
She stared at the phone's screen, then held it up for Deg to view. "That's what I thought. I had to take my daughter to the doctor."
"What's the doctor's name?"
Ironmonger provided the information. "Please don't say anything about this. She's only fifteen—and pregnant. Her daddy would kill both of us if he knew she had an abortion."
"We need you and your daughter to call the clinic and give them permission to answer our questions."
Ironmonger slumped in the chair. "Okay."
"If they confirm your alibi, you'll be square with us." Deg backed away from her. "However, I want you to know we'll be turning our investigation on your fundraising activities over to the school board. They will not ignore the inappropriateness or the allegations that you threatened the volunteers with having their children bullied."
Ironmonger nodded.
Ray and Deg left the school, again bypassing the principal.
Once outside, Ray said, "I'll follow up with the clinic, which I'm sure will check out. I already contacted the school board with the info on the fundraising. We'll need to be sure they take it seriously."
"Which leaves us with?"
"Wayne Peers. Still no alibi for the man," Ray said.
"I'll head back down to Davie this evening," Deg said, looking frustrated. "Maybe identify the cowboy dive he claimed to have been in and find someone who remembers him. My first pass came up empty, but you never know, I might find someone I didn't talk to before." Deg paused. "Then what?"
"The money. The heat rises on Silebi tomorrow, and with what I witnessed Saturday night, Dyer's further in gambling debt than I thought."
CHAPTER 27
Sophia
With Roxy in her arms, Sophia watched Ray exit the drive. He'd walked the dog with her, but then got a call from the department to go to a crime scene.
After putting Roxy in the crate and handing over the required treat—Roxy had Sophia well trained—Sophia grabbed her purse, then remembered the damned gun. She stood in front of the drawer for a full two minutes, looking in, trying to quell the shaking in her soul. She was a healing spirit now, not a warrior. She questioned herself. Could she shoot someone in self-defense?
Focusing on her promise to Ray, she picked up the little Sig, checked the safety again, slipped it into its concealing case, and gently placed it into her bag. All the internal turmoil created a more basic urge, and she detoured to the bathroom. Then she made a point of setting the house alarm before leaving for work.
Arriving early allowed her to secure a parking space close to the ED's door. The hospital security guards were nowhere near. That was the disadvantage of arriving early. Following Ray's directions, Sophia put the gun under the driver's seat, then called and asked for an escort.
Five minutes later, the aging guard in a blue and white uniform approached. He held up his ID badge as he tapped on the side window.
"What's the deal, Ms. Burgess?" he asked after she'd exited the car.
"I think I picked up a stalker. I might need someone to escort me from time to time until the situation is resolved."
"That's one of the reasons we're here. Have you made a report to your boss and to the office?"
"Not yet, but I will today. I only became aware of the problem last Friday." She'd stretched the truth, but didn't know how else to handle the question.
The guard escorted her to the ED entrance. "Call when you're ready to leave if you're alone."
"Yes, sir." While feeling stupid, Sophia watched the man leave. There was no way the guard could protect her, she reasoned. In the event of an attack, she'd likely have to protect him.
After making her way around the back hall to the staff lounge, she breathed more easily. Several staff members were present, and she felt safe.
The twelve hours from getting report on her patients to the end of the shift vanished in what seemed only minutes. She cared for challenging cases, took her breaks and lunch in the lounge, and gave a report to the oncoming nurse a tad early. It was satisfying, and she felt a modicum of relief from the stress.
That all changed when she went to get her purse from her locker. The door was open, her papers littered the floor, and several small items were missing. What was most worrisome was her partially unzipped handbag. She remembered zipping it after removing the gun. She called security and, while waiting, left a message for Nancy on her machine.
The guard who appeared could have been the twin of the morning shift guy, except this gentleman was darker-skinned and potbellied. "What happened?"
Pointing to the locker, she said, "I found my locker open and trashed."
"Is there anything missing?"
"My extra steth
oscope. Bandage scissors. White sweater. A nursing journal." Tears formed, but Sophia didn't cry. "I haven't looked in my purse."
"Do it now."
"Aren't we going to call the police and get fingerprints?"
"Listen. I'm a retired cop. Even if we run them over here, they aren't going to find this person." He pointed a pile of debris on the floor, pausing over the remnants of a plastic glove. "And it looks like the thief covered his hands, which is the usual for hospital thefts."
Sophia sat at a table and opened the handbag. Everything was there—the credit cards, her license and car registration—except for the cash in her wallet. "So, some ass cost me a hundred dollars plus another hundred worth of nursing equipment."
"I'll file an incident report."
"For all the good that will do. Can you take me to my car first, please? I want to go home now." She felt unnerved and scared.
Once they arrived at her parking space, the guard checked her car from front to back and looked underneath before pronouncing it safe.
Rather than roll her eyes, she thanked him profusely for his help. Still, when she depressed the clutch and punched the start button, she prayed her car wouldn't blow. It didn't. However, during that tense moment, she noticed traces of wax on her house key. She fetched the Sig from under the seat and laid it on her lap. Then she called Ray.
"I'm on my way, but it'll take a few minutes. Don't go into the house until I get there," he said. "And put your weapon where you can reach it."
"I did."
He wasn't home when Sophia got there, so she parked across the cul-de-sac and huddled in the locked car worrying about herself, her dog, and her belongings.
Ray arrived a few minutes later, signaled Sophia to stay put, then approached the house. The front door was unlocked. He disappeared inside, then returned a few minutes later.
She met him on the front porch. "What's inside?"
"A bit of a mess. Crime Scene is on their way to take some prints. Let's look around now."
"Roxy?"
"She's fine. I put her in the backyard."
"Okay." Sophia entered her violated home, feeling like she had landed on another planet.
The contents of her display shelves were shattered and scattered on the floor. Porcelain crunched under her feet as she further destroyed her prized Lladro nurse figurines. A few plates were smashed from the china cabinet. There was a bit more expensive damage here and there. A favorite painting slashed. A special, nice lamp lay on the floor in two pieces. Books swept off the shelves. Deliberate, purposeless damage.
"Ray, I don't understand. Why would someone do this?"
"There's a message here, and I think it's that your stalker is getting more dangerous."
She nodded, then wiped away the streaming tears. "The den?"
"Your computer is trashed."
"Shit." She sat on the sofa in the Florida room, grabbed a box of tissues, and gave in to the despair.
Ray held her close until she calmed.
He said, "Did you set the alarm when you left? I found it off."
"Yes." She told him about her ambivalence over the gun. "That's why I'm sure I set it. I was having a crisis of confidence."
"Someone has the code."
She thought a minute. "When I had it installed, I was afraid of forgetting. I wrote the numbers on the back of my license, but I didn't label it as alarm code or anything stupid."
"We need to figure out what else this idiot learned that he can use against you."
***
It was close to ten o'clock when the crime scene techs finished their work, having taken both Ray's and Sophia's prints for reference. Ray helped the responding officer make the report and let Sophia hide on the screened patio with Roxy.
Roxy, thank God, was fine. Sophia checked her from nose to toes and found no evidence the intruder paid any attention to her. Then they cuddled on the small outside sofa and fell asleep, Sophia from exhaustion, Roxy because that what she did. When Ray woke her, he'd already cleaned up most of the disorder and put a frittata in the oven.
"While we wait for the eggs, let's go through your wallet and see what else could be a problem." He reached for her purse and handed it to her.
Sophia spread everything on the island in the kitchen and sat on a stool. She only kept two credit cards, and she took a moment to report them as potentially compromised. "I know they're here, but the guy could have easily taken a picture of the cards to use online."
"Good point," Ray said. "And he'd have your license information."
"I don't think my insurance card is a problem. I'm glad they quit putting social security numbers on stuff." Her wallet was empty.
Ray stood. "Where are the directions for the alarm system?"
She retrieved them from the file cabinet in the den and handed them over.
He flipped through the manual, then went to change the code on the alarm. "What's a number you can remember and not write down?"
"Four-two-one-one. It was the last four of my best friend's telephone number when I was a child." An image of Katie with her long hair tied in a ponytail crossed Sophia's mind.
Ray did his thing with the alarm, then returned to the kitchen. While he tended to the food, she set the table.
"What kind of wine goes with your frittata?" she said.
"Damned if I know. There's an open bottle of Pino Grigio in the fridge."
"Works for me."
They started to eat. Between bites, Ray reviewed the safety measures he wanted her to take. The only real change was to keep her keys and wallet on her person while working. "That way you don't need to worry about them."
"That's doable. I'm off tomorrow. I'll have the locks changed first thing." She sipped her wine. "I also have an appointment with a lawyer."
"You do? Why?"
"Remember, I told you Cynthia Nolan said I should have my own counsel because of the complaint to the Board of Nursing. The hospital will support me, but since the Silebis family made the complaint, one never knows. I think it's a waste of money, but I'll follow through anyway. What I don't need is a mark against my license." She emptied her wineglass in a couple of swallows, then refilled it. "I don't want to discuss my stalker anymore. Tell me about Millie's case."
"We've cleared the suspect list with the exception of Rodney Dyer, who has an alibi but has the means to hire help, and Wayne Peers, who doesn't have an alibi we can verify with confidence." Ray looked thoughtful. "It's frustrating. Time is passing, and we're no further than we were the day of the crime. There are no prints in the house except Millie's, Wayne's, and yours."
"Am I a suspect?"
"No, not at all. You were working."
She frowned. "You've eliminated some people at least."
"Joy, joy. There is a link we're missing. Something I can't put my finger on. I'd like to know who drove the black car that sat in front of her house, but I can't get a lead on that either. Black muscle cars are very popular and without further detail, we're at a loss." He pointed to his briefcase, which sat next to the bedroom door. "I'd planned to review what we know for a while this evening. Guess I'll get up early and have a look at it."
"I'll clean up the dishes and kitchen, and you can get started now."
"I appreciate that." He topped off his wine, retrieved a thick file, and laid it on the table.
At about one, he stood, leaving his papers spread around. "I'm going to shower, then let's go to bed." His voice sounded low and sexy.
"Is that an offer I hear in your voice?"
"Could be a stress reliever for you." He smiled, kissed her, and left the room, taking the long route to the bedroom and checking all the windows and the alarm.
Without even considering the ethics of the matter, Sophia sat in front of his papers. Running through them with haste, she gleaned the details of Millie's financial life. Sophia found it amazing Millie had accumulated so much money and astounding she was suckered into a dummy annuity plan. Sophia closed the file and s
at pondering all the various ways there are to abuse and neglect one's elders.
Then, as she made her way to the promised stress relief, a small what-if bell rang in her head.
CHAPTER 28
Ray
At the police department early Tuesday morning, Ray spread the Peers file across his desk and became engrossed. He couldn't put his finger on the missing piece. When Deg knocked on the top of his desk like it was a door, Ray looked up. "We need to keep tracking the money. That will take us back to the financial company, Dyer, and, perhaps, Silebi," Ray said.
"Good morning to you, too." Deg sat, then handed Ray a cup of carryout coffee.
Ray took it and sipped. "Thanks." He tapped a paper on his desk. "I have an email from the Division of Insurance Fraud. The DIF officer, Chuck Kline, encourages us to join them today at the South Florida Secure Financials' office." Ray glanced at his watch. "They should be there in about an hour and will wait for us outside the place."
Deg held up a piece of paper. "I've got the warrant for Dyer's work records—again—and personal financial information at his office and home, including bank accounts."
"So we'll double-team them, two agencies for the price of one."
"Agreed." Deg smiled. "That will turn up the heat all around. I'll call the forensic accountant to meet us there."
The men spent the remainder of the hour reviewing their other cases before leaving to join the festivities.
Ray slid into the passenger seat of Deg's assigned Taurus. "What concerns me is even if the fraud is locked down, that still doesn't tie Dyer to the murder."
"No it doesn't. But it provides a clear motive. The last group of emails Farber found hidden on Millie's computer shows she planned to speak with Franco about Dyer. She'd gone beyond simply wanting information."
"Do we have any proof that Dyer responded to the emails?"
"No, but when we grab his machines today, we should be able to show he received them."
"Did Farber give you any insight into why he thought Millie's messages to Dyer were misfiled?" Ray said.
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