Marked for Murder

by Colleen Helme

  “You’re right,” Uncle Joey agreed. “From what you’ve said, he knows too much about you for my comfort. And sending flowers here to my office shows a certain disregard for me.” He was thinking the guy had balls, but he’d learn soon enough that he was messing with the wrong man.

  Ramos glanced my way. “You said he’s called your cell phone, maybe we can find him through his phone number.”

  “It’s always been blocked,” I answered.

  “Then how about the florist? They should have a record of who bought the flowers, especially since he had it delivered.”

  “Yeah… unless he paid cash.”

  Ramos raised his brow at my negativity, but he understood. “We should check it out just to make sure.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “The one at the police station was from Brown Floral. Since he said his name was John Brown, maybe he owns the shop. Could it be that simple? I know I’d recognize his voice if I ever met him.”

  Ramos didn’t have much hope that he’d give himself away so easily. “He could have used that florist shop just because of the name. Or he could have chosen his name based on the florist shop to give you a clue. This sounds like a game he’s playing.”

  “Either way,” Uncle Joey said. “It looks like your idea of meeting him has the best chance for putting an end to it… and him… if need be.”

  My eyes widened. He’d said that out loud, so I knew he was serious. Instead of telling Uncle Joey that killing him was wrong, I nodded my head in agreement. A sudden stab of guilt hit me in the chest. What did that say about me? How could I be okay with murder? “Uh… yeah… but let’s see what we find out first.”

  Uncle Joey smiled. He’d been a little surprised at how quickly I’d agreed, but from my remark, his faith in me was restored. It just went to show how upset this fellow had made me, and it angered him enough that he wouldn’t have any qualms about ending the man’s sorry life, no matter how I felt.

  His gaze caught mine, knowing I’d heard that as well, but he wasn’t going to apologize or assure me it wouldn’t happen. It was different for him, and I needed to remember that.

  Ramos was thinking about the other parts of my story that could give us some clues. “I think we should visit the office he sent you to. Why did he pick that place? He’d need some kind of connection to the building, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “There was some construction going on. Maybe he’s a member of the construction crew or something.”

  “We can ask around. Too bad you don’t know what he looks like.”

  “The girl who brought my lunch to me at the food court must have seen him. Maybe we can get a description from her.”

  “Good thinking, Shelby,” Uncle Joey said. “What about the man you met at the food court? Did you say he lives in the apartments?”

  “Yes. I got his number. I’m sure he’ll let us inside and we can take a look at the apartment the plant came from. At the very least, we can find out who lives in that apartment.”

  Uncle Joey caught my gaze, thinking things weren’t as bleak as I’d thought. “Good. Why don’t the two of you get started, and I’ll see what I can find out about the office building. The Randolph Tower, right?”

  I nodded, suddenly overcome with gratitude. “Thanks Uncle Joey.” It came out as a strangled whisper, and I cleared my throat in an effort to gain control of my emotions.

  Uncle Joey came around his desk and pulled me into a fatherly hug. “We’ll find him.” He was thinking that I was part of the family, and I didn’t need to thank him. Under that, I picked up a coil of hot anger that this man had threatened me, and he wasn’t about to let him get away with it. That calmed me more than anything else I’d heard, and I pulled away, giving him a tremulous smile.

  Uncle Joey turned his gaze to Ramos, sending him an unspoken command to keep me safe. “Let me know what you find.”

  Relieved to have a plan, I opened the office door and stepped into the hallway. Ramos followed me out, and we stopped at Jackie’s desk to look at the flowers. Sure enough, they were from Brown Floral, just like the others. Taking the card, I slipped it into my pocket and turned to leave.

  “We’ll be back,” Ramos told Jackie. She knew something was up, but nodded respectfully, knowing she could find out all the details from Uncle Joey after we’d left.

  We rode the elevator to the garage in silence. Ramos sensed that my nerves were strained, and he knew better than to offer sympathy for my predicament. What I needed right now was a show of strength, and he was happy to provide that. None of that sissy, sentimental stuff from him. He had my back, and this guy didn’t stand a chance.

  A smile curved my lips, pushing the stress away. We stepped out of the elevator and turned toward the corner where he parked his bike. “You look like you need a ride.”

  “You know it.” I grinned. “Let me grab my jacket.”

  With more enthusiasm than I’d had all day, I snatched my jacket from the trunk of my car and slipped it on. Joining him, I asked, “So where should we go first?”

  “The florist shop.” He held his hand out for the card. I handed it over, and he noted the address. “The shop isn’t far. After that we’ll head to the office building, and then Jerry’s condo.”

  “Sounds good.” I slipped on my helmet and straddled the bike behind him like a pro. Since this was about the only time I got to hold onto Ramos, I took advantage of the moment and wrapped my arms firmly around him.

  I felt his stomach muscles tighten and let out a contented sigh. He was thinking that I was holding onto him pretty tight—but he wasn’t about to complain. That brought a smile to my lips, and the surge of power as we roared up the ramp sent butterflies through my stomach.

  At the florist shop, I told the worker I was a consultant for the police to gain her cooperation. I even showed her my ID badge to prove it. “We received some flowers at the precinct from an anonymous source this morning, and I need to know who sent them. The card was addressed to Shelby Nichols. Flowers were also sent to her home yesterday afternoon and to another office today.”

  Since nothing this interesting had ever happened in the shop before, the woman was more than willing to help us out. “And you don’t have a name?”

  “They weren’t signed, but from what we know so far, the name John Brown might work.”

  “Okay. Let me look.” She toggled the computer to search the orders from yesterday. “Oh… here it is. John Brown. He ordered all three yesterday to be delivered at different times. All to Shelby Nichols.” She clicked on the purchase order. “It looks like he paid cash, and there’s no address below his name. I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got.”

  “Did you take the order?”

  She shook her head. “No. I wasn’t here.” She glanced at the work schedule. “According to this, Alyssa took the order. She’s a high school student who only works here a couple of days a week.”

  “When will she be here next?”

  “Looks like Saturday.”

  “Okay. Thanks for your help.”

  I left the shop a little deflated. “Guess that was a dead end.” Before Ramos could respond, my phone rang, and alarm tightened my chest. I pulled it from my purse, finding a number I didn’t recognize on the caller ID, which meant it wasn’t from John Brown. I let out a sigh. “It’s not him,” I told Ramos, then answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Is this Shelby Nichols?” a woman asked.

  “Uh… yes.”

  “My name is Stacey Sherwood. I’m the producer of Good Morning America. The reason I’m calling is because we heard all about your heroic actions yesterday. Stopping a mass shooting is big news. Let me tell you, the interest for this story is off the charts. People want to know the real Shelby Nichols, and we’d love to have you appear as a guest on our show. Could we schedule you for an interview in the next few days? All expenses paid, of course.”

  “Uh… uh… I don’t know.” What the freak! How was this happening?
Good Morning America? No way.

  “I understand, but you would be doing the American people a service by appearing on our show. We need some good news, and your heroics are worth celebrating.”

  Since I was basically tongue-tied, all that came out of my mouth were a few unintelligible mutterings, so she quickly continued. “We pride ourselves on bringing heartwarming stories and the people behind them to our show, because everyone needs to know that there are great news stories worth talking about. Yours is definitely one that the people need to hear. In this day of mass shootings, I hope you can understand how necessary it is to know that at least one of them was thwarted.”

  She paused, waiting for my response. In the silence, I took a breath and began. “Well… I’m really busy right now. Thank you for asking, but I’m going to have to decline. Uh… but thanks anyway.”

  “Wait,” she said, disbelief in her voice. “I’ll give you some time to think about it. All right? I’ll call you back in a day or two. Maybe you won’t be so busy then.”

  “Um… well… okay.”

  “Great. We’ll talk soon.” The line went dead. I glanced at Ramos with widened eyes. “That was Good Morning America. They want to interview me on their show.”

  Comprehension glittered in his gaze, and he swore a blue-streak in his mind. “Holy hell.” He said that out loud. It blew his mind that I was getting so much attention. “You’re not going to do it are you?”

  “No way,” I said. “I tried to tell her that, but she wouldn’t let me. I don’t think she expected me to turn her down.”

  “Yeah. I’d bet money that you’re the first person who has ever said no.” He shook his head. How did these things happen to me?

  “Well, at least the next time she calls, I’ll be better prepared, and she won’t catch me by surprise.”

  Ramos nodded, hoping I could withstand the fame and glory coming my way. With the amount of trouble I got in, it could be tempting to have a spot in the limelight to balance it out.

  “I’m not tempted. Not even close.” Even as I said the words, I had to admit that I’d already thought about what clothes I’d wear, and how cool it would be to sit on the set in Times Square. Would I wear my leather motorcycle jacket and my black boots, or something more conservative?

  “You ready to go?” Ramos asked, yanking me out of my reverie. His raised brow confirmed that he’d guessed right that it would tempt me, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

  I huffed and nodded, pushing that dream out of my mind. Because I’d been in the local news, a stalker was now putting people’s lives in danger. Who knew what could happen if my name and what I did went nationwide. It could be catastrophic.

  We mounted the bike and, a few minutes later, we entered the Randolph Building. A couple of workers stood in the lobby, and Ramos asked them about the construction. One of them explained that they were remodeling the lobby and a couple of empty floors.

  “We’ll be done in a month. I don’t know if the owner has leased those floors out yet, but you can give him a call if you’re interested.”

  Ramos got the name of the construction company. After thanking him, we took the elevator to the seventeenth floor. Nothing had changed since I’d been there earlier, but at least it wasn’t as creepy with Ramos by my side.

  I’d left the door wide open, and it was still that way, so it looked like no one else had been there. Ramos stepped inside, looking for things that I might have missed, like a security camera, or a wastebasket with a discarded receipt that might hold a clue.

  I snapped my gaze toward the ceiling and let out a relieved breath to find nothing of the sort. Thank goodness. It gave me the creeps to think of John Brown watching me like that.

  Ramos stepped behind the desk and pulled it open, finding the drawers empty and no sign of a wastebasket. “There’s nothing here.”

  That didn’t surprise me, but I couldn’t help the disappointment rolling over my shoulders. “Well, at least Jerry isn’t far. I’ll give him a call and see if we can meet up.”

  After a few rings, he answered, happy to hear from me, and more than willing to show me the building. “I found out which condo it was, so I can show you where it happened.”

  “Great. I’m close by. Can I come now?”

  “Sure. I’ll meet you outside.” He disconnected before I could ask about bringing a friend. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind too much.

  He waited by the table where we’d nearly been killed, waving to me as I approached. As he realized that the big guy following me was my companion, a wave of unease washed over him. It was the scowl on Ramos’s face that did it. Hoping to quell Jerry’s alarm, I introduced Ramos as a good friend. The quick nod Ramos gave him only heightened Jerry’s fear, and I worried that he wouldn’t let us in the building.

  “Is this where it happened?” Ramos asked, glancing up at the windows.

  “Yes,” Jerry answered. “The top window right above us.”

  Ramos nodded, but didn’t say another word, so I spoke instead. “Shall we go inside?” I knew Jerry had news he was dying to tell me, but he hesitated because of Ramos. I took his arm and smiled. “I can tell you know something, and I can’t wait to hear what you’ve found out.”

  He glanced at me, and his face cleared. I’d saved his life, so I had to be one of the good guys, even if I’d brought someone who looked like a killer with me. Maybe I’d hired a bodyguard? If that was the case, he could understand. “You’re right. Come with me.”

  He led us inside the door, then used his key card and a pin number to gain access to the building. “I’m on the third floor, but the apartment where the pot was dropped is on the eighth floor. We’ll go there first.”

  We boarded the elevator, and he told us that the apartment’s occupant was out of town. “I found out that the owner of the condo doesn’t live there. He just uses it when he comes to town for business.”

  “How often is that?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. All I know is that he’s not there now.” We exited the elevator and turned down the hallway toward the door. “The police went inside, but I don’t know if they found anything. They didn’t stay long, so I don’t think there was much to go on.”

  At the door, Ramos took out his lock pics. Jerry’s brows rose with alarm, but he kept his mouth shut. This might be illegal as hell, but it was the most excitement he’d had in years. Plus the owner was gone, so maybe it wasn’t so bad.

  Ramos held the door open before Jerry could blink. We hurried inside, all of us heading straight for the window. Ramos unlocked the clasp and pulled the window open, taking note of the railing around it.

  If the clay pot was as big as I’d believed, getting it up and over the railing would take some muscle, but it was possible. Ramos examined the carpet, noting a round indentation that looked exactly like a clay pot. That meant it was already here, and not brought in by the stalker. It also meant that the stalker knew the occupant, or actually lived here. He could have told everyone he was out of town, even if he wasn’t.

  I turned to Jerry. “Do you know the name of the guy who lives here?”

  “No,” he said. “Why?”

  “It could be him.” I caught that Jerry didn’t think that was possible, so I continued. “Or someone who knows he was gone, and knew about the plant. Could it be one of his neighbors?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “From my experience, most people tend to let their neighbors know when they’re not around.”

  After examining the rest of the condo, Ramos joined us, thinking that, if there was a clue, the police had most likely taken it. He’d heard our exchange and spoke. “Let’s talk with the neighbors.”

  He also thought that one of them could be our mysterious John Brown, although he highly doubted it would be that easy. Still, it was worth a shot to ask. Even if the neighbor didn’t admit it, I’d know it was him with my mind reading skills.

  Leaving the condo, we locked the door behind us, and I rang the bell at the apartme
nt next door. No one answered, and Ramos brought out his lock picks again, but I stopped him. “Let’s see if the other neighbor is home first.”

  Ramos shrugged and went along with me, even though he didn’t see a problem breaking in. I rang the bell at the other door, and an older lady opened it up. Not recognizing us, her brows drew together. “Who are you?”

  “Hi, I’m Shelby Nichols. We’re just wondering if you’ve talked to your neighbor recently.”

  “Are you with the police? I already told them everything.”

  “Yes. I’m a consultant with the police,” I answered, holding up my ID badge. “I’m just following up. What is your neighbor’s name?”

  “Tim Kitley. He’s been gone since Sunday, and he won’t be back for a couple of weeks. I think he lives in Chicago, but he’s here a lot on business.” She was thinking he was a successful salesman, but she couldn’t remember what it was he sold. Was it pharmaceuticals? No… it had something to do with dental equipment… yeah… that was it.

  “Oh, I see. What about the neighbor on the other side? Do you know who lives there?”

  “Sure. That’s Stella Chapman’s place. She and her boyfriend live there. But they both work. If you want to talk to them, you’ll have to come back later.”

  “Okay. Well, thanks so much for your time.” I gave her a little wave and stepped away from the door. After she closed it, I turned to Ramos. “My stalker’s not Tim Kitley.”

  Jerry didn’t think that was too hard to figure out, even for someone without premonitions. He wasn’t even here at the time. “It’s got to be someone who knows him though, otherwise how did they get into his apartment?” Then his eyes widened, and he realized whoever pushed the pot out the window could have entered the apartment the same way we had.

  “And,” he added. “It’s possible that he lives in the building. Why don’t I snoop around a bit and see if I can meet the people who live on this floor. I might even be able to get some names. I’ll let you know if anyone seems suspicious.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “That would be great.”