by Laura Quinn
“I also found out today that some of the football players might be playing outside the rules,” Claire said.
Marti wasn’t surprised. “There’s so much money and fame in professional sports, especially football.”
“There are just as many rules against that sort of thing, with major consequences for the players and the school,” Bob said. “That’s why the coach’s zero-tolerance stand is so popular with the board. Did you talk to Ed about it?”
“That would be awkward, since she dumped him,” Marti said.
“Really?” Bob asked.
“How are you a news editor? I told you that days ago,” Marti said.
“You said he was a Neanderthal,” Bob clarified.
“Exactly,” Marti said. “I didn’t think I needed to spell it out for you.”
Claire interrupted the flirtatious spat. “Regardless, I’m sure he will be on top of this soon. If not, I’ll talk with Tyler about it before school reconvenes.”
“Steroid rage would be enough to fuel a murder,” Marti said.
“Remember Betty said she saw high school boys working at Ruth’s house? What if they were working off their blackmail debts?” Claire asked.
“Good luck getting the police chief to look into that,” Marti said.
Bob agreed. “He’s convinced her death was an accident.”
“Well, it wouldn’t help us with Donald’s death anyway,” Claire said. “From all accounts, he didn’t know who was being blackmailed.”
“Unless that person was one of the fish he was baiting,” Bob said.
“But even the richest kid can’t just take out a large amount of cash without a parent or guardian noticing,” Marti said. “Could be the parent, though he or she would be more likely to pay off Donald.”
“I wish we could get those files from Keckers,” Claire said. She checked email on her phone, something she had neglected to do during the busy day. “Spoke too soon, here’s an email from him. He says he only received one file so far, but he decoded it.”
The group moved to open the unlocked file on Claire’s laptop, revealing a collection of photographs. Bob identified the teenager as Joe Miller, one of the team’s best players.
“I did a feature story on him after he broke the state’s single-season reception record. He’s a nice kid.”
“Enhanced?” Marti asked.
“I don’t think so. He struck me as someone with equal amounts of natural talent, drive and integrity,” Bob said.
“I wonder why Ruth would have a file on him, then,” Claire said, scrolling through the other pictures. Many were taken from a distance and were blurry. “I think that’s Ed,” she said, pointing to one of the unidentified men.
“And that’s Tony Miller beside him, but I don’t know who those other men are, or why Joe’s father and Ed would be meeting with them.”
Bob promised to run the photos through his image recognition software at the office in the morning. Claire finished her dinner and began baking duties while her guests reviewed the listing of coded victims.
Knowing the names of three possible targets, the team focused on trying to crack the code like a Sudoku puzzle. After forty minutes of false leads, Marti gave up.
“This is hopeless,” she said. “Even if we do hit upon the key, all we’ll have is initials. We can’t go around investigating every set of letters in town. Not to mention, the list might not even be confined to this town.”
“Plus, we still don’t know if the two deaths are related,” Bob said.
Claire kneaded dough as she sorted through the facts they had. “We’re going in circles. If they’re not related, then either Delilah or her sister killed Donald, or possibly it was one of the smuggling warlords.”
“It can’t be the latter,” Marti said. “From what I hear, they have reach. Don Jr. would be dead by now.”
“Well, I can’t accept that Delilah did it and Tallulah would have just paid Donald off,” Claire said. “So, we’re back to connecting the deaths with one of the blackmail victims.”
“What can we do?” Marti asked. “Short of getting more unlocked files from Keckers, we’re stuck.”
“Maybe we should leave this one to the police,” Bob said. “Chief Pete is still angling to charge Don Jr. with murder, if he can convince the DA.”
Claire took the last tray out of the oven. “Why do I get the feeling Delilah’s doomed?”
Chapter 21
Thursday, December 21st
“Just a few more days,” Claire promised Baron as she sprayed her clothes with a refresher. Laundry was a luxury that would have to wait until after Saturday. “You can stay home if you want. Even Chief Tasting Officers need a day off once in a while.”
He tilted his head and looked at her, then rattled the bells on the garage door, in case she didn’t pick up the communication that he was going to his shop. Claire walked slowly, her aching muscles still recovering from two intense training sessions that week.
Another full day of customers and baking kept Claire, Barbara and Peggy busy. Baron slept in back between greeting his favorite customers. During a bathroom break, Claire checked her voicemails. Bob called to say that the unidentified men were all college recruiters from top universities. The editor knew that Joe had signed with one of them, having received a full scholarship, and was waiting to hear back from his sports reporter about any rumors that might translate into an extortion-worthy offense. Tyler called to say he thought one of the basketball players was nicknamed Sticks, but he wasn’t sure.
Before Peggy left, Claire texted Joe’s photo and Sticks’ name to Zac and Emma to see if either knew them. Although she wanted them to wait until they were on a study break, both called back immediately. She promised to take no more than five minutes and conferenced the two calls.
Zac spoke first, “Before Emms dominates the conversation, Sticks is a sophomore, but I don’t know his real name. I think Keckers had a class with him. You don’t suspect him, do you? He’s tall, but scared of his own shadow.”
“No,” Claire said, trying to think up a cover story. “He was one of the gaudy prize winners, but he didn’t leave his phone number.”
“The guy is weirder than I thought. I’ll send a note to Keckers; he’ll know how to contact…”
Emma interrupted her brother. “How tots unhelpful. I have actual facts; Joe’s on the varsity team with Harry. He set the reception record and is almost as good as my Harr-bear.”
“Do you know if Harry met with as many recruiters as Joe did?” Claire asked.
“Harry got plenty of offers, but he’s got a lock on Harvard. He has a much more important life planned beyond football. He…”
Zac interrupted, “Joe’s parents are working-class, so he doesn’t have an ivy league legacy to fall back on. He’s actually a decent guy, or at least he was.”
“Do you think he started using drugs or something?” Claire probed.
“Joe? No way,” Zac said. “His dad bought this penthouse downtown and now he’s like the party king. Not with drugs, but like in a BMOC kind of way.”
His sister mocked him, “Big Man on Campus? How very yesterday of you.”
“That’s the point,” he shot back.
“Okay, you two, get back to studying. I’m so sorry to have interrupted.”
“No probs,” Emma said. “I tots needed a break.”
“Sames,” Zac said, mocking his sister.
Claire texted the information about Joe to Bob to check out with his sports department. She remembered reading about recruiting scandals in the past, but that was a stretch. Keeping the information about Sticks to herself, she made a note to research steroids and consequences for teen athletes, both medically and legally.
Marti texted a little later, apologizing that she was in an extended arbitration meeting and wouldn’t be able to come out until much later. Claire replied that she was going to make it an early night, as she and Baron were exhausted. She wished her friend luck and pl
anned to talk to her the next day.
Fortunately, the customers remained at a manageable level throughout the afternoon. Because she and Peggy had stockpiled so many treats earlier in the day, Claire was able to leave on time and stopped at Burger Baron to treat her furry partner.
The paw-printed vehicle drew out the staff as soon as it pulled into the lot. Everyone wanted to see their favorite client in person and Baron didn’t disappoint, greeting and shaking paws with all his fans. Claire zoned out during the marathon of selfies with the obliging dog.
“Oh my gosh, that’s so adorbs, he can untie a shoelace,” the head cashier said. Claire turned to see the adorbs dog playing with Ed’s shoe. “That’s not one of your toys,” she said in a low voice, so as not to embarrass the star. Baron looked at her forlornly, but dropped the loafer.
“My dog chewed through every shoe I owned until I started locking my closet,” the girl said. “I didn’t think Baron ever misbehaved; he always seems so perfect.”
“Every once in a while, he gets what I call mischievous puppy sparks, but he never bothered with footwear before,” Claire said. She secured the shoe in her purse for safety. “I guess he figured someone left it behind for him to play with.”
“I posted the photo on Instagram with his hashtag,” she announced before going in with their order.
“I can’t believe I forgot about that stupid shoe again,” Claire muttered. She made a mental note to drop it off to the school the next day, to be rid of Ed once and for all. While they waited, Claire pulled up #BaronRulesNoHa and saw the picture of the cute dog untying the bow. She reached over to show the phone to Baron, but then yanked it back and zoomed in on the image.
She grabbed for the shoe and turned it over, but had to steel herself before she looked at the sole. Her blood ran cold when she read the yellow Posh Pup ingredients label. It was dated December Eleventh. Suddenly, it all made sense, why he had made such an effort to woo her.
Immediately, she dialed the police department and asked for Officer Conners. As she was unavailable, the call was transferred to the chief. Claire swallowed hard as the brusque voice came over the phone.
“Yes, Ms. Noble, what can I do for you?”
The tone implied exactly the opposite, but Claire persevered. “I’d like to report a suspect for Donald Prescott’s murder. I think Ed Bishop was involved.”
“Let me stop you there. If this is some kind of scorned woman’s revenge, I’m going to charge you with wasting police time.”
Claire exhaled sharply, before continuing. “Ed must have broken into my shop sometime after I fell asleep on the night Donald was killed. I have proof.” She detailed the sticker system she had in place and offered to send a photo.
Chief Pete laughed. “I think you’re really starting to believe you’re Nancy Drew. Here’s the difference between pretend detectives and real cops: law enforcement follows actual evidence, which is why we know Mrs. Prescott is the murderer.”
“Aren’t you listening? Ed was in my shop that night. Why would he break in? And it can’t be a coincidence that he broke in on the very night Donald was killed.”
“I hear Coach Bishop was in your shop quite frequently, until whatever spat stopped you. Maybe he couldn’t deal with this fantasy world you’re living in. Regardless, he could have stepped on that sticker at any time,” the chief said. “What I find curious is why you have the man’s shoe. That’s the sort of thing a stalker would do.”
“The sticker is dated, I told you. And before you ask, my shop is very clean; I don’t have old stickers laying around.”
“Apparently you did at some point, or the sticker wouldn’t be on the shoe,” he said.
“That’s because I was rushing to leave for our date, so I didn’t get a chance to clean up thoroughly.”
“So, he was there that night, with you?”
“No, no. I met him at the restaurant. He wasn’t at my shop that day.”
“You just said he was, make up your mind.”
“I mean he wasn’t there with me. He must have gone afterwards. I think he drugged my drinks at the restaurant so he could sneak out and still have an alibi.”
“You didn’t tell us you were drugged when we questioned you.”
“I didn’t know then.” Claire stopped to take a deep breath; hysteria wasn’t exactly going to help her case. “Look, I only just pieced this together. I don’t have all the answers, but I think you should talk to him.”
“I’ll get right on that, ma’am,” he said, then hung up.
Baron nudged her and looked out the window. Claire was so angry, she hadn’t noticed that her food had been brought out and left on her hood.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll get your dinner and you can eat while I call your Aunt Marti. She’ll know what to do.” She unwrapped the burger marked with a heart-shaped paw print and broke the lukewarm patty into small pieces. The wrapper was set on the console between the seats so Baron could eat while Claire called Marti.
She was relieved to hear her friend’s voice and rattled off her theory, as well as the indignation of the chief’s call. As Claire retold the story, she began to doubt herself.
“Trust your instinct,” Marti said. “Get home and lock all your doors. I’m on my way and I’ll stay on the line with you until I get there. Don’t answer the phone if he calls.”
“He won’t, Jesi said he’s at some seminar for the next few days.”
“Well, just don’t communicate with him at all. He doesn’t know you suspect anything, so let’s keep it that way.”
“I feel like such a fool; I actually thought the man was beguiled by me.” Claire realized her voice was trembling. “How could I be so gullible?” Baron jumped into the front seat and rested his head on her lap while she listened to her friend’s orders.
“Claire, sweetie, you dumped him, so you’re no fool. Now I need you to focus on driving, getting inside, and locking the doors. I’m going to call the police through OnStar, so this line stays connected. Got it?”
“Okay,” Claire said, wiping her tear-stained face with her mittens. Baron licked the salty trickle from her cheek as she pulled into the garage.
“It’s Okay, Baron. We’re home now, see?” Claire turned on the lights in the kitchen and called for the cats.
“Did you hear that, Marti? We’re home safely now and I’m locking the doors.”
Swearing and honking answered her until Marti returned on the line. “Sorry, traffic is completely backed up on the tollway. It doesn’t help when everyone forgets where the gas pedal is.” More honks and cursing followed.
Obeying Marti’s orders, Claire kept the phone on and slid it into her pocket as she poured herself a drink. She rattled the treat box and called num-nums.
“Those cats must be really mad at me to ignore these delicious treats, huh Baron? Do you want them?” The threat of giving away their treats never failed, yet no cats emerged. She shook the package again. “I know you’re angry, but I promise, this madness is almost over and I’ll be home at normal times again.”
Claire opened the refrigerator to pull out the irresistible package of lobster she was saving for their holiday dinner. Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open and Claire shrieked. She could hear a muffled Marti screaming on the phone, but she was too terrified to move. Baron stood in front of her, growling with his hackles raised.
Two cats jumped on the counter, causing Claire to drop the lobster and shriek again. Baron jumped up to kiss his mistress, comforting her that the danger was gone. She laughed hysterically, somehow conveying to her friend that everything was okay. Just to be sure, though, she looked in the reflection of the kitchen window before shutting the protective fridge door.
Marti estimated she would be there in about twenty minutes and Claire slipped the phone back into her pocket, with the line still connected. She made herself a cup of herbal tea to try to soothe her nerves. The comic relief provided by the felonious felines had helped disperse much of her nervous
energy, but she was still anxious about the realizations she would have to face with the police the next day. After gobbling down their plate of lobster, the cats lapped up bits remaining on the floor. Baron sniffed the seafood but found it unappealing. Claire set out a doggie dinner for him instead, then headed to the living room to wait for Marti.
For a terrifying moment, she thought she saw movement behind the sectional, but realized it was merely the dancing shadows of the twinkling display outside. She changed the TV channel from the cats’ favorite flitting winter birds to a holiday special. She was singing along, in a subdued voice, until the distinctive crunch of a crushed jingle ball in the corner silenced her.
She froze as the Christmas tree lights silhouetted the outline of a man walking towards her.
“Hello, Claire,” the voice stabbed through her soul and her teacup crashed to the floor. “Tell your dog everything is okay, or I’ll silence him.”
Claire called Baron over as calmly as she could, explaining Ed was there for a surprise visit. Baron jumped on the couch next to her, hackles partially raised. Claire held onto his collar and assured him everything was fine; they both needed to remain calm if they had any chance to escape.
“What are you doing here?” Claire asked, struggling to keep her body and voice from trembling. “You scared me to death! How did you get in?”
“Where is it,” the murky shape demanded as it moved inches from her face.
“What?”
“It’s too late for games,” he said, drawing a gun. “Give me the drive. You know I’ve already killed two people to get it, so I have nothing to lose to kill you too. I’d rather not, but needs must.”
Baron growled fiercely, his hackles fully raised and teeth bared. Claire hung on to him desperately to keep him from lunging at the threat. She tried to keep her voice steady to talk her way out of danger. “You’re taking this joke too far. I know you said I shouldn’t investigate, but …”
“And you should have listened. Your ridiculous murder board has kept me well informed, so I know you have the files. It was just a matter of time that you discovered my secrets, and I can’t have them made public.”
