“I think so. We won’t know for sure until she’s finished running the numbers. You'll never guess who dropped by to see Cara this morning. Kathy Simmons' roommate. Darcy Somebody.”
“Really? What’d she have to say?”
“Beats me. But she did leave Kathy’s cat with Cara.”
“Why?”
Skye drew a circle on the table with her index finger. “She didn’t want the animal.”
“Probably can’t afford it,” said Lou. “Pets can be expensive.”
Skye nodded and looked over at the counter, watching Dora serve and take orders.
“I wonder why Darcy dumped the cat on Cara.”
“Kathy told her what a nice person Cara is.”
“That so?” Lou took a long gulp of his tea. “Still, it seems like a stretch. There have to be other people that Darcy knows who might take the animal.”
“Evidently not,” said Skye, quietly, as she looked away from Lou.
There was something there, something Skye was chewing over, worrying with. Lou knew her well enough to read her hesitation. He pushed, saying, “But why leave it with Cara? A woman she’d never met? Why not take the cat to the animal shelter?”
“Because she didn’t want it put to sleep,” said Skye, quickly. “And that’s what they do. They only keep cats a short while. There are too many of them. More than they can ever find homes for. They’re like…like plastic bags, you know? Everywhere you turn. Darcy didn’t want the cat on her conscience. She wanted to make a clean break—”
“A break? What sort of break?” A bubble of panic floated to the top of Lou’s consciousness. “A leaving town sort of break?”
“Well, yes, now that you mention it,” said Skye. Her expression was bleak, as though she’d been caught out.
“Darcy was leaving town? Cara didn’t try to stop her?”
Skye frowned at Lou. “That’s not exactly Cara’s job, is it?”
“Come on, Skye!” He set his glass down hard. The bump was loud. The diners at the table next to them turned and stared. Lowering his voice, Lou leaned in. “Cara isn’t stupid. She must have known I wouldn’t want Darcy to leave town. Not in the middle of a murder investigation.”
“Right.” Skye raised her finger and traced a circle around the rim of her water glass. Her movements were dreamy, trancelike. “But I repeat, it wasn’t Cara’s place to tell her to stick around.”
“Cara should have called me,” Lou said. He felt himself getting hot under the collar. His stomach growled loudly.
Skye cocked her head and stared at him. “That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s all about you and your job. We aren’t really people to you. We don’t have our own needs and problems. We’re a means to an end.”
Lou heard her, but he didn’t hear her, because he didn’t want to consider what she was saying. He’d often discussed this with his colleagues. When did you quit being a cop? When did you let things slide? When did you put your friends first and the law second? How did you deal with the pressure that came with being the big, bad voice of authority every minute of every day? Could you ever relax your guard? And how did that spill over in your private life?
Suddenly, he felt angry. “Can you hear yourself, Skye? There’s a killer loose on our streets, and Cara Mia Delgatto could have helped us, but she didn’t because she has other priorities?”
“You’re being totally unfair,” said Skye. She spoke very slowly, enunciating each word carefully. “To Cara and to me.”
“Not true,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I’m trying to do my job, and I expect members of the community to care at least as much as I do. Cara should have called me right away. Or you could have.”
“I could have called you?” Skye leaned forward and planted her palms on the table. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t rat out my friends. Not ever. If you are only interested in me so you can use me to spy on my friends, then buddy, you are barking up the wrong tree!”
The force of her anger surprised him. “No need to get all huffy. I’m just doing my job, Skye,” Lou said, as he spread his fingers wide.
“Really? That’s a good reminder that I need to get back to mine.” She scooted off the end of the bench.
“Hey.” He grabbed her elbow—and immediately let go when she winced. What he had intended as a gentle touch must have felt more like a pinch.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” she said, whirling on him.
“Skye! You know me better than that!” He half-rose out of his seat.
“Maybe I do and maybe I don’t." She stood there shaking with rage. He’d never seen her so mad.
“Come on. After all we’ve been through—”
“We? You and me? Where were you when I was sitting in that jail? Huh? Or when I was getting beaten by my husband?” Her face was white with fury. “What were you expecting, Lou? Payback? That I’d owe you and you could collect whenever you want? That you could use me like a doormat? Well, guess what, pal? Doormats get stepped on. They get wet. People wipe their shoes on doormats, and I don’t intend to be one for you or for any man ever again!”
She picked up her glass of ice water and poured it in his lap.
CHAPTERE 49
On his way back to work, Lou swung through the drive-up window at McDonald’s. He wolfed down his food. At the station, Lou made a beeline for the men’s room. First he rubbed paper towels over his pants. The result disgusted him. Little globs of paper clung to his thighs, making the whole mess look worse. Next he tried holding the wet spot under the flow of hot air from the hand dryer. Each time another man came in, Lou pretended to be drying his hands.
Finally he gave up. His pants were soggy, but he flat-out didn’t care.
He’d no more than made it to his desk when Ollie waved him over.
“The boss wants an update on the Kathy Simmons’ murder,” said Ollie, while shoving a piece of pizza into his mouth. Glancing down at Lou’s pants, Ollie said, “Didn’t make it to the john in time?”
“Hardy-har-har,” said Lou in a snarl. Not only were his clothes still wet, the hamburger and fries weren’t sitting well.
“Walk me through what you’ve got,” said Davidson, leaning back in his leather seat.
Ollie stepped over to Davidson’s desk. “Mind if I use your computer? Is it booted up? No? You might want to look at this spreadsheet while I get it started.”
“This is some fancy Excel work,” said Davidson, admiring the neat bars and colors.
“It represents a timeline of Kathy Simmons’ life,” said Ollie, talking as he tapped on Davidson’s keyboard. “We start with the media event at The Treasure Chest. Using colors as codes, I filled in times and dates. Yellow is information from interviews. That’s cautionary, because we’re taking someone at his or her word. Blue is for time stamps on CCTV. Green indicates money, purchases, or receipts.”
"Impressive," said Davidson. “So our victim went to the media event at Cara’s store, back to the newspaper, drove her boss to Wendy’s, made a trip to Hobe Sound, drove back to Stuart, dropped her boss off at his apartment, drove south, and disappeared?”
“But we can’t verify that she went straight to the paper from The Treasure Chest,” said Ollie. “She might have gone somewhere else first.”
Davidson nodded. “What else do you have?”
“A loose end,” said Lou. “The photo Kathy bought Cara’s store has gone missing. The techs found the frame and glass shoved under the passenger seat in the Toyota, but the picture has disappeared.”
“You’ll need to track that down.”
“Already on it.”
Davidson frowned. “Can you verify that our victim was with her boss immediately before she disappeared? Or do we just have his word on that?”
Ollie pulled up images on Davidson’s computer. “Here’s Kathy Simmons when she ran inside Wendy’s, and here you see her car in the lot, with someone in it.”
“Even though it was raining like crazy,” said Lo
u, “she parked her car and went inside after going through the drive-thru. We know because we can compare the time stamps.”
“That’s not so surprising,” Ollie said. “Probably opened the bag and discovered something was missing. Or wrong. Happens to me all the time. Or she decided she wanted something that she forgot to order.”
Davidson’s mouth twitched with a suppressed smile. Everyone in the department knew that Ollie ate constantly. Even if you hadn’t seen him with a donut in his hand, you couldn’t help but notice the stains and crumbs on his clothes.
“I hope you’re planning to talk to the people who were working that night at Wendy’s. See what they say,” said Davidson.
“We are,” grunted Lou. “Here’s something else that doesn’t make sense. One of the uniforms brought in this footage from the Winn-Dixie in Hobe Sound. It was taken Monday night."
A grainy scene showed Adrian Green walking up to the customer service counter and buying
"Notice how wet Adrian Green’s jacket is?” Lou asked. “You’d think with it raining so hard, Adrian Green would have parked closer to the front of the store, but he didn’t. In fact, he could have pulled up in the fire lane, under the circumstances. He just ran in to buy one item!"
“Why was he driving Kathy’s car?” asked Davidson.
“According to him, she didn’t like driving in the rain. Since he’s from England, it doesn’t bother him,” explained Lou. “As for why he ran into the store, he says he was being a gentleman, but that doesn’t match my impression of him. Not at all.”
“Maybe he couldn’t get closer because some old coot blocked the fire lane,” said Ollie. “Anyway, after the Winn-Dixie stop, we have Adrian Green climbing out of her car and entering his apartment. I just received the images from the security camera at the front of the building. I’m working to verify the timing by comparing the pictures to key card swipe records.”
“Right,” said Davidson, tapping the timeline printout with a finger. “Any other independent verification of our victim on the night she disappeared?”
“After she dropped off Adrian Green, Ms. Simmons drove to a BP Station in Stuart, a few blocks from Mr. Green’s place, and topped off her tank.” Ollie got up, went over to Davidson’s computer, and pulled up another image. “We also confirmed that with her credit card statements. You can see the Toyota in this picture. In fact, the way she’s parked we can read its license plate. This isn’t in color, but you can see the back of her head and her coat pretty clearly. That thing on her head is the same thing we found in our dead girl’s coat pocket.”
“A scarf,” said Lou. “Like Audrey Hepburn worn in that movie Two for the Road. See that coat, boss? It's the one our DB was wearing when we found the body. It’s the same one that Kathy Simmons wore to the media event at The Treasure Chest. Pretty distinctive. It’s got newspapers printed all on it.”
Davidson asked, “What’s the time stamp?”
“Monday at 11:35 p.m.,” said Ollie, taking his seat. For him, this up and down business had been a lot of exercise. “This proves our vic was alive after she dropped off Adrian Green.”
“Here’s the real zinger,” said Lou. “Faraday says our victim was drugged and kept alive in the trunk of her car for nearly 48 hours before she was asphyxiated. But he can’t be right. We’ve been able to track Kathy Simmons’ movements using her SunPass.”
“Go over with me how the SunPass works,” said Davidson. “I think I know, but I’d rather hear it from you so I’m clear.”
“Sure,” Ollie said. “SunPass is an automatic payment system for Florida’s toll roads. Citizens purchase the do-jobbies, register them to a specific vehicle, and link them to their credit cards. Each SunPass has an RFID, a Radio Frequency Interface Device. As the driver approaches the toll booth, it sends a message to the SunPass. The SunPass answers with its serial number. The number is recorded. The credit card is charged for the toll.”
“Are you telling me that you found evidence of Kathy Simmons’ SunPass being used?” Davidson raised an eyebrow.
“Right. The toll booths up and down the toll road recorded visits by the SunPass registered to Kathy Simmons’ Toyota.”
Davidson’s frown deepened. “Could someone have swapped out Kathy’s SunPass? Taken it off of her car and put it on theirs for a while? Then put it back in the Toyota?”
“The system would have noticed that a vehicle different from the registered car passed through the tollbooth,” said Ollie.
“Better yet, we’ve got pictures of Kathy at the rest stops,” said Lou. “At the West Palm Beach Service Plaza, she sat down and ate at Nathan’s Hot Dog. We also have a photo of her buying a donut at the Dunkin’ Donuts in the Pompano Beach Service Plaza. But Faraday is adamant that Kathy had been locked in her trunk. He’s waiting on tests to support his conjecture. The lab is looking at her stomach contents, blood concentration levels, and so on.”
“Could someone else have been driving her car? With her in the trunk?” asked Davidson.
Ollie shook his head. “Let me pull up the images.”
Once again, he went over and stood beside Davidson. With swift keystrokes, Ollie called up the image of a woman in a scarf and the newsprint raincoat. She entered two service plazas. “According to the videos, Kathy looks like she’s on her way to Miami.”
“We don’t have any footage of her on her way back?” asked Davidson.
“No,” said Ollie, returning to his chair. “It’s possible she didn’t take the turnpike back. She could have come back on I-95 or A1A.”
Davidson nodded. “Right.”
“Here’s the deal,” said Lou. “This contradicts what Faraday told us. I know you have a lot of faith in him.”
“But he’s human,” said Davidson, with a grimace. “He could be mistaken. Tell you what. Take that timeline and share it with Faraday. Show him the images. Maybe he can figure out why his facts don’t jibe with what you’ve got there. Let’s move on. What else have you learned? Any closer to nailing down a motive?”
Lou shook his head. “Not really. We started with the known associates. We’ve learned that Adrian Green is a jerk and a coward, Kathy Simmons was chronically short of money but got along with her co-workers, and Darcy Lahti needed Kathy Simmons’ income or she wouldn’t have had a roof over her head. That pretty much covers our victim’s circle of friends.”
“You’ll need to go back and re-interview Ms. Lahti,” said Davidson. “Ask her about Kathy’s relationship to Adrian Green. Find out whether Ms. Simmons really did hate driving in the rain. See if it sounds plausible that she demanded to go to the Winn-Dixie in Hobe Sound.”
“No can do,” said Lou, with a sinking heart. He had dreaded this moment. Feeling like a kid caught breaking a window with a baseball, he launched into an explanation that sounded weak, even to his own ears. He finished up with an admission. “Ms. Lahti left town, and it’s my fault. I should have cautioned her more firmly. We could try to find her, but if she’s off the grid, it’s pretty much a lost cause. Especially in Miami.”
“I’m sure you won’t let that ever happen again,” said Davidson, evenly. But the sour look on his face told Lou that his boss was not pleased. “Moving right along. What’s your theory? Any ideas yet?”
“Kathy Simmons was secretive about her research,” said Lou. “We also know she threatened Cara Mia with information about her past. She wasn’t subtle about her attempt at blackmail. Ms. Simmons was always trawling the Internet. It’s possible that between her regular reporting and her research, she managed to get the goods on somebody, somebody who had a lot to lose.”
“If Ms. Simmons was expecting a big payoff from somebody, that would explain why she shelled out the bucks to buy a really nice birthday gift for her mother,” added Ollie.
“But instead of paying her to keep quiet,” said Lou, “someone decided to shut her mouth permanently.”
“We need to find out who else she was threatening,” said Davidson. “Start a list.
”
Lou nodded. “At the top would be Cooper Rivers.”
CHAPTER 50
“You’ll need to approach Mr. Rivers carefully,” said Davidson. He’s a local boy who’s done well, a minority, and very civic-minded. Before you go after him, you need to have your facts straight. This could create tremendous blow-back.”
“I’ve been thinking about how to talk with him,” said Lou. “First I want to see what Ollie can find on Kathy Simmons’ computer.”
“That’s easier said than done,” said Ollie.
“How come?” Lou was a caveman when it came to computers. Ollie was an expert, at least to Lou’s way of thinking.
“I copied the hard drive of the computer she used at work. There wasn’t anything there. At least nothing I could see. The files on her notebook computer seem pretty straightforward. Nothing scandalous or interesting. I have a hunch she didn’t store anything of value on her notebook computer. In fact, I’d bet you lunch that she didn’t.”
“I don’t understand. You’re talking in circles.” Davidson sounded slightly annoyed. This surprised Lou, because it took a lot to upset Davidson. He was one of the most even-keeled bosses that Lou had ever worked for.
“According to Kathy Simmons’ credit card statements, she recently opened an account to store files on the cloud,” said Ollie. “Considering how tight her budget was, paying for private cloud storage only makes sense if she had important information that she needed to keep safe.”
“Whoa,” said Lou. “I’m lost. The cloud? What’s that?”
“Cloud storage offers users a way to store information that can be accessed remotely at any time, through any device. Imagine, if you will, a giant USB stick in the sky.” Ollie sketched a rectangle with his index finger.
“USB stick? In the sky?” Lou was even more confused.
“Lou, you really need to make the hyper-leap into the computer age,” said Ollie, with a put-upon sigh. “Let me dumb it down for you. In a typical office, you might open a file cabinet and store papers inside manila folders, right? A USB stick is the computer equivalent of a huge file cabinet. But it’s only three inches long. You might have heard it called a ‘thumb drive.’ By contrast, cloud storage would be like renting an entire building’s worth of file cabinets up in the sky. Because it’s virtual, it can be accessed from anywhere, anytime. So if Kathy’s at the Shoreline News, she types in an address and she has access. Same-o, same-o if she’s sitting in a Starbucks. Unlike using a key or twirling a combination lock on a physical storage unit, you use a password to get into your cloud storage.”
Second Chance at Life Page 17
