by N. C. Lewis
"Congratulations on your election to the board." Miles paused as if he was searching for something more to say. "This organization… needs a person like you at the helm."
The ferret-like eyes of Dr. Stubbs flashed with pleasure. "Thank you. It's an honor to serve."
"I'm sure," said Miles, thinking about future contracts and groveling a little, "it won't be long until you are chair of the board."
Dr. Stubbs' eyes twinkled. "Maybe in a year or two. I want to learn more about the internal workings of the organization first." He turned to Amy. "I don't believe we've met?"
"Oh," said Miles before Amy could get in a word. "This is Amy King. She is working with Floyd Adams and me on the Edwina Lutz figurines. Amy is an event stager."
Dr. Stubbs extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Amy. Do a great job with those figurines, and I'm sure there'll be plenty of other work coming your way." He bared his white teeth in a grin that told Amy, surgeon or not, she couldn’t trust the man.
"Dr. Stubbs, I have your coffee here," Noel said, joining them at the table.
Dr. Stubbs took the cup without acknowledging thanks. That annoyed Amy. It took little to say please and thank you. "A little common courtesy," she had told the children when they were growing up, "goes a long way."
But Dr. Jeffery Stubbs didn't need common courtesy. He'd risen to the top without it and was too old and successful to change his ways. "Get me a granola bar," he barked at Noel. "Then get out of my sight. I don't need a docent to show me around."
Noel's cheeks turned crimson. The head docent, a spry little man from England, had assigned him to Dr. Stubbs. "Keep an eye on the bugger," he had said, wagging his finger at Noel. "You never know what board members will get up to."
Noel opened his mouth as if to say something, changed his mind, and scurried away to the food counter.
Dr. Stubbs blew hard on the surface of his coffee." Amy, tell me more about your plans for staging the Edwina Lutz figurines."
"There isn't much to tell," she said in a level voice. "After our meeting with Floyd Adams, I'll know a lot more."
Noel returned with a granola bar and handed it to the doctor. Once again, Dr. Stubbs snatched it without acknowledgment, took a greedy bite, then sipped his coffee, eyes darting from Amy to Miles. "What time is your meeting with Mr. Adams?"
Something about the way he asked the question gave Amy pause. "Fifteen minutes ago!" she replied, uncertain whether she should have been so specific. Then added, "We are waiting here for Floyd to join us."
The thick lines etched into Dr. Stubbs' forehead deepened. "I detest those who can't keep to a schedule. Punctuality is an important characteristic of the successful. Perhaps the most important characteristic."
"Ah yes!" said Miles, with a slow dip of the head, in an attempt to convey that he understood exactly what Dr. Stubbs was talking about. "Floyd is usually on time. I've left him a voice message. Something important must've come up."
"Nonsense," Dr. Stubbs boomed, getting to his feet, eyes flashing with something Amy couldn't read. A blue vein throbbed in his temple. "Floyd Adams has kept a gorgeous lady waiting, and that's unacceptable in my book. Come with me; we're going to his office. I'd like to have a word with Mr. Adams."
Chapter 15
It surprised Amy at how quickly they found themselves in the administrative wing. Noel knew all the shortcuts, and Dr. Stubbs was content to let him lead.
"I've got big plans for this museum," Dr. Stubbs said, placing a gentle arm on Amy's elbow. "I'd like to invite you to lunch next week to discuss… a mutually beneficial arrangement."
Amy felt like wriggling away from the man's clammy grasp. But, not wanting to make a scene, looked straight ahead. "What type of arrangement do you have in mind?" There was no way her company would do business with Dr. Jeffery Stubbs.
"The board authorizes all major spending decisions. I'd like to review the list of preferred vendors; shake it up a little. I'm sure I could find a spot for you," he glanced at Amy in an attempted smile. "Of course, I'd like to get to know you a little better first."
"Wonderful idea," Miles added. "I may as well join you. What date did you have in mind, Dr. Stubbs?"
The doctor's smile faded, and his stare grew cold. But before he could answer, Noel announced, "Here we are."
A gilt-edged tag in the center of the door identified the office as belonging to Floyd Adams. Other than that, it was identical to all the other doors along this stretch of hallway.
"I'll knock, see if he is inside," Noel said, raising his hand.
"No," hissed Dr. Stubbs in a hoarse whisper. "Use your electronic key to unlock the door. This will be a surprise!"
Noel hesitated, his right hand still in midair. It was against museum policy to enter senior management offices without knocking.
"Use your electronic key," Jeffery demanded. "Once you are inside, wait a moment. Then announce that I am here. After that, we will join you."
Still Noel hesitated. All members of staff were issued with an electronic key. It gave access to all areas in the administrative wing. Board members also receive the same key, as did visiting artists and volunteer docents.
"I'm a board member, and I insist staff announce my arrival ahead of my appearance." The doctor's canny eyes flashed. "Go ahead, unlock the door and go inside."
Noel was still very new as a museum docent; his first week on the job. Since a board member had asked him to enter the office, he'd obey and hope it wouldn't lead to trouble with Floyd Adams. He reached into his pocket, pulled out an electronic swipe key, opened the office door, and entered the room.
He stopped dead just inside; the color disappeared from his face, leaving him sickly pale. Floyd Adams was lying facedown on the desk his head next to the small metal fan churning noisily. His right arm was outstretched as if grasping at something. But there was only an empty cardboard box and bubble wrap. Floyd Adams didn't move when Noel spoke his name.
"Quick, come quick!" Noel cried, frozen to the spot.
"What is it?" boomed Jeffery, his voice a little too light, a little too airy. But he did not enter the room. It didn't matter, though. Amy instinctively rushed by the two men. She took a moment to take in the scene, but when she saw flecks of blood, turned brown on the whirring fan, dried stains of blackened blood on the desktop, she knew something was wrong, and it would never be right again for Floyd Adams. She also knew his death was no accident—this was murder.
Museum security arrived first, followed by uniformed police officers. The medical examiner and crime scene technicians arrived a short while after that, and Detective Mary Wilson was kept busy barking orders and securing the physical aspects of the murder scene.
Chapter 16
When Nick arrived about twenty minutes later, he found an ashen-faced Amy sitting with Noel at a small table in a cordoned-off area of the cafeteria guarded by a uniformed officer. Dr. Stubbs sat at another table talking softly into his cell phone, and beyond that Miles Block sipped from a paper coffee cup, his eyes darting around nervously.
Nick recognized the uniformed policeman. "Officer Rees Jones, how's your wife? Has she had the baby yet?"
"Yes, sir. A baby girl—Charlotte. Only three weeks old with the lungs of a tiger—keeps us up at night."
"Congratulations! Enjoy it. Charlotte will be a teenager and heading to college to study criminology before you know it."
Both men laughed.
Officer Jones lifted the cordon, stepped aside, and Nick hurried over to Amy and gave her a hug. "Honey, are you all right?"
Amy tried to smile but couldn't quite manage her facial muscles. The image of Floyd Adams' lifeless form remained vivid in her mind. "Okay… I suppose."
But Nick knew Amy wasn't okay; discovering a dead body was always a shock. He'd never gotten used to it himself, and he had worked homicide. "I heard there was an incident at the museum, remembered you were here this morning, and came over to investigate. Officially, I'm at my desk at police department
headquarters. Officer Chambers is covering for me. Do you know who's working the case?"
"Detective Wilson," Amy replied. "She asked us to wait here until she's ready to take our statements."
Nick clicked his teeth. Detective Wilson was a good friend. He'd get the full details from her later, but for now he was grateful Amy and Noel were safe. He turned to Noel, who sat rigid, eyes wide staring off into the distance. "Noel, what happened?"
Noel blinked his eyes into focus. "I opened the office door and found him."
"Him?"
"Floyd Adams… stretched out across his desk… and the blood… it was everywhere."
Nick didn’t have time to respond. A voice boomed, "Are you a detective?"
The question, directed at Nick, came from Dr. Stubbs. This wasn't Nick's case. He was officially at headquarters working lollipop liaison unit activities.
"Detective King," Nick replied, eyeing the tall man with uncertainty. "And you are?"
"Dr. Jeffery Stubbs." He stood up, took a step toward Nick, then halted. "How much longer am I expected to stay here?"
In an instant Nick took in all he needed to know—the expensive pinstriped suit, highly starched, top-of-the-line shirt, high-end leather shoes, and a superior glint in the eyes. From what he could see, Nick knew Dr. Stubbs was wealthy, well-connected and trouble. He countered with a question while he considered his options. "You were a witness to the crime scene?"
"Yes, along with the others." Dr. Stubbs pointed at Noel and Amy, then half turned and pointed to Miles. "They were with me, showing me around." He took another step forward, tilted his head, and looked down his nose. "Detective King, I'm a member of the museum board."
Play it cool and don't get uppity, Nick cautioned himself. "Detective Mary Wilson will be here as quickly as possible."
The doctor's eyes flashed with rage. "I just told you I'm a member of the museum board! I don't expect to be kept waiting around. I'm also the chief neurosurgeon at the University Medical Center and a personal friend of the—"
"Sir!" interrupted Nick in a sharp tone, raising his hand, palm out, fingers outstretched. "Detective Wilson has asked you to remain here until she has time to speak with you. I'm afraid there is little I can do."
Dr. Stubbs' faced turned scarlet. His nostrils flared. He bared his teeth in a savage snarl. "Don't interrupt me. I'm a personal friend of the chief of police, and due in surgery in less than an hour. I'm not taking orders from a… civil servant!"
Just then Nick heard Officer Jones speak loudly as if sounding a warning alarm, "Yes, Lieutenant, sir. That way."
Nick whirled around to see Lieutenant Kostopoulos striding directly toward Dr. Stubbs. "I'm so sorry for the confusion, Dr. Stubbs," he said, shaking the doctor's hand. "The chief asked me to stop by to help sort things out."
The doctor uncovered his pearly-white teeth in a sour grin. "I'm very upset with the police department. Why am I being held without charge or access to a lawyer?"
Lieutenant Kostopoulos glanced at Nick as if seeking an answer. But Nick, who wasn't supposed to be there, said nothing. The lieutenant opened his mouth as if to say something when Dr. Stubbs, enraged, spat out, "The city manager, another personal friend, will hear about this, as will the chair of the museum board, and my political friends from the capital!"
At that Lieutenant Kostopoulos bowed his head slightly as if in the presence of royalty. "Sir," he said in reverential tones, "One of our senior detectives will follow up with you at a more convenient time. You are free to go."
Chapter 17
Nick saw Lieutenant Kostopoulos stalking through police department headquarters long before his administrative officer, Barbara Edwards, summoned him to the lieutenant's office. The lieutenant rarely called meetings at short notice unless there was a problem. And today, the problems that weighed heavily on the lieutenant's mind concerned Dr. Jeffery Stubbs.
"What's the boss want?" Nick asked Barbara as he stood outside the lieutenant's office.
But Barbara was still mad at him for accusing her of leaking confidential information. She stared directly into her computer screen without speaking. Nick made a mental note to apologize, soon. Then he sucked in his breath and held it until his stomach settled down a little. "Guess I'll soon find out."
Barbara didn't look up as he entered the lieutenant's office.
Lieutenant Kostopoulos peered sourly through reading glasses as Nick closed the office door. An open pack of cigarettes rested on his desk. The lieutenant didn't smoke, gave up the habit years ago. The cigarettes only appeared at times of stress.
A bad start, Nick thought, eyeing the open pack with concern and standing rigid like a soldier on parade. "You asked to see me, sir."
"King, take a seat." That confirmed Nick's worst fears, the lieutenant only called his detectives by their last name when there was a problem. Today, Nick realized with a growing sense of helplessness, he was the problem.
Nick sat on the edge of his seat, trying to assess how bad things would get.
"Quite a performance you put on this morning… at the museum." The lieutenant's tone, cool and even, impossible to read.
Nick didn't respond at first, hoping the lieutenant would go on. But he didn't. He waited.
"I wasn't stepping on any toes," Nick said at last. "My wife, Amy, had a meeting at the museum this morning, and my son-in-law works there."
"Both of whom, it hasn't escaped my attention, were at the murder scene." The lieutenant picked up an untidy stack of papers on his desk, glanced at the top sheet and put them down, tapping their edges until they were all aligned.
Nick held his tongue. He sensed there was more.
The lieutenant leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh. "It's been a difficult day: murder in our state museum, the press, the chief, Dr. Stubbs, and his friends. That man's unleashed an army of influential people our way, and they aren’t calling to thank me for my service. My phone hasn't stopped ringing!"
The lieutenant folded his arms. "Detective King, please tell me why you showed up at the scene of a crime and interrogated one of the chief's friends when you were supposed to be working lollipop liaison duties?"
Nick didn't respond.
After a while, the lieutenant reached for the open pack of cigarettes, pulled out a stick, snapped it into pieces, and tossed the broken fragments into a waste-paper basket. He leaned forward and growled, "King! Stay away from the museum. Stay away from this case. Stay away from Dr. Jeffery Stubbs."
Nick hadn't intended to get involved and went to the museum to check on Amy and Noel and discover what was going down. Now he was at the center of a controversy that could hurt the police department, hurt the lieutenant, and hurt himself. He understood all of that but resented the naughty schoolboy treatment.
"Is that an order, sir?" Nick's tone was cool and even.
Lieutenant Kostopoulos didn’t answer immediately. He respected Nick, knew he was one of the better detectives in the department, but the lieutenant did things by the book. He followed orders. After several moments he picked up the cigarette pack, reached for a stick, changed his mind, put it back down, and stared hard at Nick.
Nick stared back.
In an exaggerated move Lieutenant Kostopoulos tapped the side of his cheek with his index finger and rolled his eyes slowly upward. "Straight from the chief," he said at last, then he lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. "Nick, keep out of this one if you know what's good for you. Detective Wilson's the lead. Let her work the case." He didn't look at Nick as he spoke.
Nick knew Mary Wilson had six active murder cases and a dozen cold-case files on the side. Progress in the Bullock Museum murder would be painstakingly slow without more resources. There was something Lieutenant Kostopoulos wasn't telling him.
"Solo!" Nick gasped. "You've got Mary working this case solo?"
"The entire department is under-resourced," the lieutenant replied.
"What about the press?" Nick pushed. If there was more t
o this case than met the eye, he wanted to know. "They'll be all over this, city hall will want a resolution. The state politicians might get involved."
Lieutenant Kostopoulos tapped the side of his cheek with his index finger and rolled his eyes upward in a slow, exaggerated move. "It's out of my hands."
"How so?"
The lieutenant's eyes flicked up catching Nick's directly. "Suppose this case was bigger than our jurisdiction… part of a federal investigation… I'm only supposing, though." The lieutenant stood. The meeting was over.
As Nick approached the door, the lieutenant called, "Detective King."
"Yes?"
"Take the rest of the day off. That's an order." Again, the lieutenant tapped the side of his cheek and rolled his eyes.
Chapter 18
Although it was only a little after two p.m. in the afternoon when Nick pulled into the driveway of his Gaston Avenue home, the sky was as dark as dusk. He was in a sour frame of mind as he killed the engine. He'd realized, even before Dr. Jeffery Stubbs spoke, he was a man of importance. But Nick had treated him like an average civilian. Why?
He had always prided himself on his quick thinking, his ability to distinguish the good guy from the bad. He'd made a rookie mistake and couldn't forgive himself for that. "Perhaps," he muttered somewhat morosely, "I'm losing it."
A booming clap of thunder roared across the sky followed by a flash of lightning as Nick hurried to the house. The black clouds burst sending a torrent of heavy raindrops crashing against the closing front door. Nick placed his jacket in the closet and wandered along the hallway to the kitchen. As he drew close, he heard whispered muttering. He paused a moment trying to identify the voices. Who would be at home so early in the afternoon?
Stealthily he crept closer to the kitchen, his sour mood replaced by curiosity. Through the crack of the half-open door he saw Zach slumped at the kitchen table with Victoria's arms wrapped around his shoulder. He'd almost forgotten his older daughter and her husband were staying at the house for a visit. Then he saw Amy at the kitchen counter preparing a pot of coffee.
