Second Chance at Life

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “You’re telling us that Kathy purchased one of these invisible storage lockers but you don’t know how to get in and see what’s there?” asked Davidson.

  “I’m trying my best,” said Ollie, “but guessing a password is frustrating and time-consuming. I might be wasting my time.”

  “What makes you say that?” Davidson asked.

  “Paying for cloud storage is not uncommon,” said Ollie. “A lot of people don't put important stuff on their computers. Not anymore. Especially if they are highly mobile or if they don't trust their environment. They use the cloud."

  "Still sounds over the top to me,” said Lou. “Our victim had access to two computers. Why not hide the information on one or both of them? Put it in a file with a misleading name? Why all the secrecy? How hard is it to crack a password?”

  Lou shrugged. “Depends on the person creating the password and how tricky she wants to be. For example, I know your password."

  "Huh." Lou leaned back in his chair and frowned. "The heck you do."

  "SkyeBlue2012."

  Lou's face burned with embarrassment. He was so stunned that he could barely think, much less respond calmly. "I, uh…"

  “Better change that right away,” said Davidson.

  “Don’t worry. I plan to.”

  “But Kathy’s password is a tough one,” said Ollie, barely missing a beat. “She used a combination of sixteen letters, capital and lower case, along with numbers and symbols. I know she used all three types of characters because it’s a high security password. That alone tells me she took her security seriously.”

  “All this brings us to motive,” said Davidson. “Let’s look at the facts. We have penniless reporter for a podunk publication that’s only published three times a week, but she’s willing to fork over money to pay for cloud storage. She doesn’t like her boss, but she spends hours in the office using their access to websites. She doesn’t have any money, but she buys a gift for her mother, a framed black and white photo, and throws away the frame. These pieces don’t fit.”

  With that, Davidson shut up and stared at the calendar on his desk. No one said anything. Lou found the silence oppressive. He had to stifle the urge to say something, anything, rather than just sit there. The waiting made him nervous.

  “Let’s back up for a minute,” said Davidson at long last. “Cooper Rivers was the other name that Kathy threw at Cara. As far as we know, he’s squeaky clean, but he definitely has a lot to lose. His firm, his license, and his public standing. Maybe Cara told him about Kathy’s threat. Or maybe Kathy threatened him directly with information. Could that what Ms. Simmons was trying to hide?”

  Ollie nodded. “It’s the best we have so far.”

  “Then we have to assume the pay dirt is in the cloud storage,” continued Davidson. “We need what’s in those files to put pressure on Cooper Rivers. Otherwise, we don’t have any leverage. Our only other option is to try to replicate Ms. Simmons’ research. Ollie, can you crack Kathy Simmons’ password?”

  Ollie agreed with their boss. “The more we learn about Kathy Simmons, the more information I have to work with. The more info I have to work with, the more likely it is that I can figure out her password. But it’ll take time."

  “The clock is ticking,” said Davidson. “The longer all this takes, the harder it will be to catch the person who did this.”

  CHAPTER 51

  ~Cara~

  “Josiah Wentworth is dead?” Poppy repeated Honora’s words. The tan faded from my grandfather’s face, and his eyes grew big as softballs. “Great day in the morning. I was just there, talking with him.”

  “So were we,” I said. “We must have left an hour before you did.”

  “I pulled up right around eleven,” said my grandfather.

  “How’d he look?” asked Honora.

  “Like he always does.” Poppy cocked one caterpillar-sized eyebrow at the two of us.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “He looked like a pompous so-and-so.”

  Without asking me, Honora got up and poured us both another cup of tea. She offered a cup to Poppy, and although I’ve never seen him drink anything hot other than coffee, he accepted. As I watched, his hand trembled when he brought the cup to his mouth. I worried he would spill it down the front of his neatly pressed yellow knit shirt. Maybe that would be okay. Yellow definitely wasn’t his color.

  “Did the Senator say anything? Respond in any way to you?”

  “He wouldn’t even look me in the face. Didn’t say a word. Ignored me, like I wasn’t even there. Jenny Beth came roaring in, wanting to toss me out on my ear.”

  “Were you alone with him? Was LaTisha with you? Please tell me you weren’t with him by yourself.” I could hear how frantic I sounded.

  “Of course I was alone with the man,” continued Poppy. “LaTisha left to get me a glass of iced tea. Only I didn’t get to drink it because afore LaTisha served me, old Jenny Beth came stomping in. I tried to tell her that I was there to apologize, but she got all high and mighty. Next thing I knew we were screaming at each other.”

  My grandfather was like an old WWII mine that’s been forgotten for years until an amateur gardener hits it with his shovel, and then kapowie, it’s all over.

  I shook my head to clear it. “Then Jenny Beth didn’t give you a chance to apologize?”

  “No, she didn’t.” He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “Look it. I know you’re sore at me, but ever’thing I said about Josiah Wentworth was the God’s honest truth, although I’ll admit I shoulda picked a better time to let him have it.”

  “Why’d you have to do that in my store? At my event? Surely you’ve bumped into him over the years!” I said. My grandfather’s timing really, really stunk.

  Honora studied him, waiting for the answer. Her expression was one of sadness, although whether it was for Poppy or for me I couldn’t tell.

  He stared into his mug. “Honora? Do you remember? This coming week is the anniversary of Josephina’s accident. That’s one reason I came back early from my fishing trip. I always spend the anniversary of her death out there at the cemetery. That’s as close as I can get to her. I thought this year might be different. But I couldn’t stand being away. I know she’s not there in that grave, but it’s as close as I can get. Leastways, while I’m still breathing.”

  “I remember her, Dick. She was a wonderful person. Beautiful inside and out. I’m sure you miss her something fierce. I still miss Frank,” Honora said, reaching out to pat his hand. He grasped her fingers and turned bleary eyes on her.

  “It pains me every day of my life.”

  “I’m sure it does.”

  Poppy rubbed his wild and overgrown eyebrows before burying his face in his hands. I’d never heard him talk about my grandmother. Never known he’d loved and lost a person so dear to him.

  As Tommy would say, I had to give my grandfather “props.” He’d tried to make amends for his behavior. Tried and failed.

  “I went to make it right, Cara. I owed you that much. You gotta believe me. I knew LaTisha would let me in, because we go way back,” said Poppy. “Remember that old Cutlass she had, Honora? Honey of a car, but it kept dripping oil. The other mechanic hadn’t gotten the old gasket off properly when he changed out the filter. She’d taken it everywhere before she brought it to me. I got it squared away in no time.”

  Was it possible that Poppy’s visit had hastened the Senator’s death? I shuddered at the thought and quickly pushed it aside. Josiah Wentworth had obviously been in declining health. His demise shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me or anyone.

  But, oh, gee, golly! We’d all been the victims of good intentions gone terribly awry.

  “You forgive me?” Poppy raised his head to stare at me sadly.

  “Yes. I appreciate the gesture you made. Too bad the Senator wasn’t in a more gracious mood.”

  My grandfather gave me a peck on the cheek. “Honora? You look after my grandbaby.
”

  “Will do,” she said.

  After he left, Honora patted my shoulder. “Even if Dick upset him, it was Josiah’s destiny to leave this earth today. I truly believe that none of us die before our time.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Over the next few hours, Honora and I worked up descriptions of her more standard miniature items. The exercise gave me the chance to learn more about her process. I especially enjoyed learning about the items she makes from recycled or upcycled goods.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to toss away a creamer carton, or a dental floss container, or a lid to anything,” I said. “You’re creativity astonishes me.”

  “I like to challenge myself. Instead of throwing things away, I try to figure out how to re-use them. It’s a game I play. Keeps my mind from withering up and blowing out to sea with the gulls. When I’m working on my miniatures, I lose all track of time.”

  I understood. I felt the same way when doing a Zentangle tile.

  At three, we finished working on Honora’s things. MJ went to pick up a load of new merchandise from an estate sale. Skye was still at Pumpernickel’s. Sid stepped out of my office to take a quick break.

  “Cara, dear,” Honora said, “if it’s all right with you, I’d like to borrow your car so Sid and I can go get my craft supplies.”

  “You drive?”

  She laughed. “For more years than you’ve walked this earth.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t go getting your exercise by jumping to conclusions, Cara, dear. Just because I prefer not to drive doesn’t mean that I can’t. I’m actually a very safe driver.”

  I handed her the keys. “I wasn’t questioning your ability. That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know it,” she chuckled.

  Sid joined us. “I need to buy a USB stick at Radio Shack. Between that and a backup in the cloud, we won’t have to worry about losing all the stuff I worked on today.”

  That was all gooble-de-gook to me, but I handed over my keys.

  After they left, I took my reading glasses and my iPhone to the front of the store. Pulling a stool up to the check-out counter, I brainstormed ideas for new products. (Translation: I drooled over Pinterest boards.) Even though the pictures were tiny, they were inspiring. I could barely tear my eyes away when Jason walked through the door.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Please don’t tell me there’s another abandoned car in Poppy’s lot, and it smells funny.”

  “No. With any luck that’s a once in a lifetime problem. Kathy Simmons’ funeral is Monday afternoon. I was wondering if you’re still interested in going with me.”

  I almost said, “Is this a date?” but given the circumstances, that seemed totally inappropriate. Instead I said, “Sure. That would be great."

  He drummed his fingers on a piece of furniture. “Have you heard anything from Detective Murray? I got the impression he’s a friend of yours.”

  “Not exactly a friend. Especially after the way he treated me about Kathy. When I first bought The Treasure Chest, it came with a fresh corpse. Lou investigated that murder, which means he investigated me. I thought we’d come to respect each other, but now I have my doubts. He hangs around here all the time because he’s sweet on Skye.”

  "The Police Chief held a press conference this morning, appealing for help." Jason shook his head. “Leads me to believe they aren’t moving ahead the way they would like.”

  Luna had been slinking around the sales floor. Now she jumped up on the dresser next to Jason and meowed at him. He reached down and stroked her. Her pleased response thrummed throughout the store.

  “Where did you come from, pretty kitty?” he asked.

  I told him about my visit with Darcy Lahti. “I know I probably should have called Detective Murray, but I got busy.”

  “Hey, you have a business to run. If he thought she was a suspect, he could have locked her up, but he didn’t.”

  “That’s the way I see it, too,” I said.

  From the back room came a tiny, “Yip-yip-yip” of annoyance. Jack seemed to sense that something was going on and that he was being left out.

  “Crud,” I said. “Jack needs to go out, and I’m all alone.”

  “I’ll take him.”

  “You serious?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Okay, that would be nice. His leash is hanging on a hook by his crate in the back.”

  I heard the crate door bang, and the leash jingle. Next came the scratching of tiny nails on the floor as Jack led Jason on a race to the front door. Jack was in such a hurry to go outside that his feet barely touched the ground. In fact, it looked as if Jason was holding a wire leash with an empty dog harness on the end, like some sort of practical joke. When I held the door open for the two of them, Jack trotted past me as if I didn’t exist.

  “Why you disloyal little so-and-so,” I said.

  “Whoa, partner! Slow down.” Jason hurried along behind Jack as they headed for the street.

  CHAPTER 53

  ~Lou~

  Ollie had been gone for nearly three hours when the rumbling in Lou's stomach told him it was almost time for dinner. He usually ate at Pumpernickel's on Saturday nights. Lou thought of it as a standing date with Skye, although Showalter snickered at that.

  “Really? You sit there while she waits tables. Whose idea of a romantic fantasy is that?”

  “Tell me how hanging out at a bar over a couple of drinks is better?” Lou responded to the voice in his head.

  “You’re missing the point,” Showalter shot back, “and you know it. You don’t go out of your way to make her feel special, buddy. And we both know the reason why.”

  “Because I’m busy,” said Lou.

  “Because you’re a coward. The idea of putting your feelings on the line and getting shut down terrifies you.”

  “Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Lou frowned. “She and I are kaput. Finished. The end.”

  “You can’t have an ending to something that never had a beginning,” said Showalter, determined to get the last word. “That reminds me. Forget what I said about a dozen red roses. At the rate you’re going, you’ll need to buy her a truckload.”

  Instead of getting real food, Lou shoved coins into the vending machine and filled his pocket with peanut butter and crackers, a bag of M&Ms, and a suspicious looking “apple pie” that felt like more crust than fruit filling. He’d hit the button for a cup of coffee when Davidson stuck his head around the corner. "There you are. We need to talk. My office in five."

  Davidson looked harried, unfocused. Usually the Captain was a laser beam, intense and singular in all he did. Coupled with his outward implacability, Davidson could seem downright scary. Lou had never known a person who could channel his energy with such pinpoint accuracy.

  After washing down the crackers with coffee, Lou peeled the waxed paper wrapper away from the apple pie. He took one look at the thick clump of dough and pitched it into the garbage.

  “So much for a nourishing meal,” said Showalter.

  Lou took a chair across from his boss and waited while Davidson got off the phone. When he hung up the landline, Davidson scrubbed his face with his hands. "Do me a favor? Could you get me a cup of coffee? Black?"

  "Sure," said Lou, puzzled by the request. Usually Davidson did for himself. He wasn’t the kind of boss who expected others to kowtow.

  When Lou returned with the coffee, Davidson was sitting in his chair, perfectly still, his eyes closed, and his arms relaxed at his side. Either this was a yoga pose or the man was in a trance. Unsure what to do, Lou set the coffee on the desk and waited quietly.

  Davidson's eyes snapped open. "Thanks. I’ll owe you a cup. I needed a minute to collect my thoughts. Could you close the office door?"

  "Should I go find Ollie?" asked Lou. "He should be back by now. I haven’t seen him, but he’s probably on his way. If this is something new about the Kathy Simmons' case, he’ll need to be here." />
  Davidson laughed. "Right. Don’t bother. Ollie won't be back. He has the measles. As do three other members of our department."

  Lou felt his jaw fall open. "You’re joking, right? That's for kids! Didn't he get a shot?"

  "No, he didn’t. Like a lot of other parents, the Andersons convinced themselves that measles were extinct," explained Davidson. "Apparently, they weren’t alone. The whole country is suffering from the worst measles outbreak since 1996. You might not have heard about it, because the virus is just now hitting Florida. Hard.”

  Suddenly, Lou remembered Skye saying that two waitresses had called off because their kids were sick. If servers themselves came down with the measles that meant that customers had been exposed, too. Lou could see how the problem would grow exponentially.

  “What a time for us to be short-handed."

  "It gets worse," said Davidson. "I asked you to close the door, because I’m still thinking about how to handle a delicate situation. I just came back from the hospital. Senator Wentworth is dead. No surprise, given his age and health, but Jenny Beth Wentworth demanded that they phone me because she claims her husband was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” Lou couldn’t process what he’d heard. “What makes her say that? Where did he die?”

  “He was at home. In fact, he was in extremis when the medics got to him. The attending doctor didn’t see any signs of foul play, and he was ready to go with natural causes when Mrs. Wentworth began bellowing that her husband had been poisoned.”

  “She bases this on what?” Lou asked.