"I kept my afternoon free," she said on the phone. "I'd love to help."
* * *
Betty and I sat in Susan's office, in chairs opposite her desk. The little girl eyed the therapist suspiciously.
"You're a shrink?" she asked. "One of them head shrinkers?" Betty's eyes roamed the walls but found diplomas instead of small heads with the mouths sewed shut.
Susan nodded. "Think of me more like a friend."
The girl shrugged and told Susan how bad Sharon had made things at school. I nodded in agreement with most of it but had to disagree when Betty said she was poisoning puppies and setting fire to first graders.
Susan listened carefully, never interrupting. She was amazing. The woman had helped me out when I was struggling with being engaged and dealing with a wedding. Surely helping out with Sharon was a no-brainer.
Betty closed with: "And that's why she has to be stopped. At any cost. You get that, right?"
Susan nodded. "I do. But let's not jump to conclusions. In my experience, girls like that cause problems at school because of problems at home. Do you know anything about that?"
"She had to move here from Bladdersly," I suggested. "Living in that hellhole would be traumatic to anyone."
Susan smiled. "Try again."
"Maybe leaving all her friends was tough," Betty said slowly.
"That's an excellent point." Susan smiled. "Moving to a new town in the fourth grade to a school where everyone already knows everyone else must be scary."
"She's scary," Betty insisted. "Like Cruella de Ville scary."
I looked at the therapist. "Sharon does seem to take to this behavior naturally. What if she acted the same way in her hometown?"
Susan steepled her fingers. "Then I'd say that she enjoys the pain that she causes others, or she's a queen bee and she's staking out her territory by disrupting the way things are with all the girls in her grade."
"She's more like Queen of all Evil." Betty pouted. "If she gave me an apple, I wouldn't eat it."
"A queen bee"—Susan leaned forward—"is a girl who wants power over all the other girls. She wants to be admired and feared. That also means she's very insecure. So she tears down half the girls to make them feel bad about themselves and builds up the other girls to dress and act like her—so they want to be her."
"I wonder how she'd do that with a stake through her heart," Betty said thoughtfully.
"We aren't killing Sharon!" I insisted.
"Killing anyone is a bad idea," Susan agreed. "There's not a lot you can do about a queen bee if she already has followers. Maybe I could attend one of your meetings and observe?"
"I don't know." I chewed my lip. "I'm not sure Kelly would like the troop being analyzed. And since she introduced me to you, she'd know why you were there."
"Well, I could come along to teach the girls something. Do they like crafts?"
Do they ever. My troop would burn down a whole forest for the chance to braid a lanyard.
"They do. What do you suggest?"
The therapist thought about this. "I'm a knitter. I could teach them how to knit."
Betty brightened. "With sharp sticks? I could do a lot with sharp sticks."
"Maybe," I said, "we should do something else?"
Susan shook her head. "I'll bring all the supplies. It'll be fun. Then I can observe Sharon in action."
"And if that doesn't work"—Betty nodded—"I can stake her like the vampire she is."
We left the hospital with an agreement that Susan and Kelly would stop by my house tomorrow night for a lesson. Betty and I sat in the car while I tried to think of what to do next.
Rex texted that he would pick up chicken, so we headed home. And that's when she told me she had homework.
"You have three days to do it," I said.
Something was happening behind the girl's eyes, but I wasn't sure what it was.
"I'd rather get it done," she said, avoiding my gaze.
Back at the house, I set her up at the dining room table and took Leonard outside. As the dog chased squirrels, my mind wandered to the break-in. That was the third time someone had gotten into my house. I needed to change the locks, that was for sure. It wouldn't stop a hardened criminal, but it would slow them down.
But then, now that whoever had whatever was in that envelope, maybe we could breathe easy. It was a strange thing for Russians to want some old plans from a long time ago. Why not just make new plans? And what was it for, anyway? Operation Wet Dog—what an idiotic name! I'd like to say that was unusual, but over the years I'd seen plans labeled things like Disco Iguana, Monkey Lice, Pickled Platypus, and my favorite—Snail Hemorrhoids. Wow, there are a lot of secret plans named after animals…
If only I'd seen that envelope before now. I still don't know how I'd missed it. Betty had found it, so why hadn't I? What did it all mean? And what happened to Joe Hanson? I guess this proved that Hanson really did have something that he'd stashed in the house.
Why did he disappear without it? What was so important that it needed to be hidden for years and not so important that it could be abandoned? That part made no sense to me. I needed to grill Riley on what was in the envelope—if he knew.
I had another thought. What if it was Joe Hanson, aka Oleg Tartikov, trying to get it back? He could have also murdered Joel. Something came up, like the recent sightings of Lana around town, and he came back for it. That was as good a theory as any.
Perhaps the most disturbing thing was that it was possible Lana was involved. Svetlana Babikova was supposed to be wasting her ridiculously gorgeous body in a federal penitentiary. She'd shown up when I'd first moved here. No, that wasn't right. Riley had dumped her on me for safekeeping. That was before she almost killed me and my troop.
But a few months ago, she'd broken out. No one ever figured out how. And she'd escaped. I'd sworn I'd seen her a couple of times. Riley didn't think it was likely, but the woman hadn't turned up anywhere else in the world.
A month ago, at a mystery fundraiser, a guy told me he had a friend named Lana who said she was writing a book on me. But we'd never found her. There was zero evidence that the woman was here (in fact, I was the only one who thought so). Just all these suspicions. Like the one where she was after the NYE plans that were hidden in my house. All of it was possible but not probable.
Technically speaking, a spy should be rooted out with all the resources of the Agency. So, even with whispers of her reappearance in Central Iowa, why wasn't there anyone from the CIA in town to check it out? It seemed pretty shortsighted to me.
Or were they turning a blind eye in the hopes of catching her red-handed? Betty said a woman was behind today's little adventure. Maybe I should call this in. But to whom? I'd been out of Langley for four years, and the turnover rate was pretty high—I wouldn't know anyone. I really needed to talk to Riley.
"You're deep in thought." Rex came up from behind and wrapped his arms around me. "Is it because Betty is plotting to overthrow Catalonia?"
"She was on their side a year ago." I turned and kissed him. "Thanks for being understanding about this."
"Well"—he gave me a funny look—"let's not get carried away. Betty's parents believe she's staying with someone else. We're going to have to address that."
"I know. I'll call them tonight. By the way, you released Robby Doyle, right?"
He nodded. "I don't think he murdered Joel Janson. But Dr. Wulf is coming in tomorrow to give a statement."
My jaw dropped. "What? You can't think she did it!"
He sighed with the patience of Job. "Merry, I have to investigate and rule out everything. The body and gun were found at her zoo. If you have any theories, you need to tell me. We know this is the guy who broke into your house and held you at gunpoint. Word around the station is that I should bring you in for questioning. They're even talking about turning the case over to Sheriff Carnack because I have a conflict of interest."
"Well, I do like the sheriff…" I said. When I s
aw the look in his eyes, I added, "But that would be wrong to take you off the case like that!" How would I get information if he wasn't handling the case?
"I think I can hold on to it for now," Rex said. He took my hand and whistled for Leonard. "Let's get inside before Betty eats all the chicken."
Dinner was an odd dynamic. My husband, me, and a kid. It was like a family. Betty chatted away to Rex about the evils of Sharon, while Rex sat with an amused look on his face. Today had been a little fun with Betty tagging along. But I needed another solution for tomorrow. I was going to see Riley, and there were things we were going to discuss that she couldn't hear.
After dinner, I called Betty's parents to let them know that she was with me. They responded with: "Whatever." And then they said they had to go because champagne was being delivered to the room. I thought I heard a high five before the line went dead.
I called Linda and Kelly, hoping I could talk one of them into babysitting tomorrow. Or both, considering that it was Betty. But Linda was still working on her book, and Kelly had a double shift in the ER.
"Could you take her to work with you?" I asked Rex while Betty took a shower.
We were sitting in the living room, watching TV. Martini was draped over Rex's lap in a way that made it look like she had no bones. Philby was on the short bookshelf, waiting for Leonard to come in. The dog was eating in the kitchen.
He ran his hands through his hair, a move that always made me a little weak in the knees. "Okay. At least there I have a cell I can put her in if she causes trouble."
Leonard started into the living room, wagging his tail with a belly full of kibble. Philby jumped onto his back, arms and legs spread while hissing. Leonard freaked out, spinning in circles at least seven times before Philby was thrown off. The dog came over and climbed onto Rex's lap, whimpering.
"I think that's a new record," I suggested as I rubbed the dog's chin.
"We really need to put an end to that," Rex said. "I'll take Betty with me tomorrow."
I pounced on that idea. "Great! It's settled, then! Thanks!" I planted a kiss on him before he could protest.
When he came up for air, he said, "Actually, I think it's Take Your Daughter to Work day. The new receptionist is bringing her daughter. I think I can make this work."
"It's the perfect place. You have rubber bullets, tear gas, and handcuffs that you can use on her if necessary." And that would work as long as Betty didn't know Rex had those things. If she did, they'd have a hostage situation that would take SWAT to solve.
As I did a little happy dance in front of him, a combination of legwork from the Hudsik tribe in South America and a death dance from a cult in Borneo, he stopped me.
"I can do it tomorrow, but that still leaves the day after. She's on suspension for three days. You'll have to have her back then."
"Deal!" I continued my dance up the stairs as I made sure Betty was in bed.
I walked into the guest room in my Dora pajamas to find that the girl had on the exact same pair in a smaller size. What can I say? She had good taste.
"Thanks for letting me stay here, Mrs. Wrath," the girl said once she was tucked in. "And I'll try to be nicer about Sharon."
That was a suspicious change of heart. Was she up to something?
"No problem," I said, explaining that she'd be going with Rex in the morning.
"That's awesome!" Betty screamed. "I can't wait to see the evidence room, the armory." Her face lit up. "Hey! Do you think they'll let me shoot the guns?"
Rex would probably have her do mundane tasks with the receptionist's daughter, but I wasn't going to tell her that.
I smiled. "Maybe!"
As I turned out the lights, I slid a little device around the knob. It was an alarm that goes off if the door is moved. This was Betty, after all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Once I got Betty up, dressed, fed, and out of the house with Rex, who seemed concerned that I had allegedly agreed to let her arrest people and go undercover as a NARC, I showered, threw on some jeans and a T-shirt, and headed out the door.
Riley didn't even look up as I entered. He was working on his computer and sketched a slight wave in between typing. I threw my bag on the floor and sat down and waited. After one minute, he leaned back in his chair.
"What's up?"
I shrugged. "I had the Nye file. In my hands and everything. Now it's gone."
The smile fell from his face. "You found it? It was really there? Is it with you? Did you read it?"
He didn't have it. That took one suspect off the list.
"No. Some woman broke in and took it from me." I looked over at the redhead, who was wearing earbuds and typing like, a thousand words a second.
He followed my gaze. "What? No. It's not Claire. It can't be. She was here all day, except for lunch, and we did that together."
My right eyebrow went up. Riley ignored it.
"Then I think it's Lana," I said.
My former handler sighed. "I know you think you've seen her, but she's not in town, Wrath. I'd know."
Reaching into my bag, I retrieved the baggie with three blonde hairs and put it on his desk.
"Since our discussion the other day, I've been wondering why you didn't tell me about the break-in at your house shortly after it happened."
He looked from the bag to me and slumped. "Yeah, well, you never told me why you were there."
I shook my head. "I was looking for you. The door was open," I lied. "Someone fled out the window when I was there. This is what I said I found on the windowsill."
"That doesn't mean it was Lana," Riley insisted.
"It could," I said. "It would make sense that she thought you had the classified files." I shook my finger at him. "Naughty boy."
"What's the point of this conversation?" he asked.
"The point"—I leaned forward—"is that both of our places have been broken into—mine three times, which, by the way, means I win. Considering the plans were hidden in my house, it makes sense. But why would they break into your house?"
Riley tapped his fingers on the desk. He was thinking how to spin this. And it made me angry.
I slapped his desk with my right hand. "This isn't a game. I'm not one of your many bimbos." I shot a look at Claire, who was still typing. "We were partners, and we are friends. What does this have to do with you?"
Riley didn't answer.
I tried something else. "Where is Joe Hanson? Is it possible he killed Joel? Could he be working with Lana? They were comrades at one time."
He threw his hands up in the air. "I don't know. How would I know that?"
"Because you are connected to this somehow." I got to my feet. "And if you don't tell me in the next twenty-four hours, I'm going to call the CIA, tell them that Joel/Oleg has partnered with Svetlana, and that you are the mastermind."
Riley stood. "Good luck with that."
He oozed confidence, but there was a slight catch in his voice. My threat worried him. He wasn't going to tell me now, but I had a feeling that he'd call before the twenty-four hours were up.
I left the building, got into my car, and drove away without a plan. Riley didn't know that. Which meant I won…again.
* * *
"She locked eight-year-old Narissa in the cells," Rex sighed. He'd come home with an angry-looking Betty. She'd run up to her room and locked the door.
"She said it was because Narissa was dealing cocaine at her mother's desk. I won't even go into how she picked the lock and alphabetized the evidence room by crime, not date, or how she managed to field strip two shotguns in a competition with Kevin Dooley. She won, by the way." My husband plunked down on the couch with a bottle of beer in each hand. That was new.
"So, it went well, then?" I squeaked.
"She should never, ever be allowed to leave the fourth grade." He took a long gulp from his bottle. "At one point I found her harassing a shoplifter by insisting he was getting the death penalty and that he should make out his last will
and testament now."
"Well, that would be an excellent deterrent for misdemeanors," I said.
"He's twelve. The kid took a piece of gum. He sobbed for three hours." Rex finished off the bottle and set it on the coffee table. "I thought I could handle her, but when she took off with the police dog, saying she was going to root out the meth heads in the middle school, I realized I was in way over my head."
"She's just very enthusiastic," I said. "Just think if she'd been bored or surly. At least you got some work out of her."
"She's not a policeman!" my husband, who rarely raised his voice, shouted. "It's going to take forever to put the evidence room back the way it was. The receptionist took the rest of the week off to comfort her kid. And with the two new guys off at the academy, that leaves me with Officer Dooley."
I nodded. "I see your point. I'm not sure he can even read."
Normally Rex would chastise me for insulting the mouth breather in uniform, but this time he just shook his head. "You've got her tomorrow. Good luck."
"Wait, did you say new guys?"
I followed him to the kitchen, where he checked on the pot roast he'd put in that morning. The house smelled amazing.
For the second time today, a man sighed at me. "I told you about that. The city cut loose some funds, and I hired two new guys, Benson Rodgers and Thad Murray. They started last week, but I got them into the police academy in Des Moines early, so you haven't had time to meet them."
"You told me? Kelly said the same thing the other day about the new girl," I mused. All this drama in my troop was distracting me.
"That's because you don't listen to us," Rex said as he started carving the roast.
My jaw dropped open. "I listen!"
He shook his head. "You do, and you don't. You should work on that." Rex left, saying he was going to change before dinner.
Dinner was quiet. While Rex didn't seem mad, he and Betty did not speak. And since I wasn't ready to tell him my thoughts on Riley and the CIA and the envelope of Russian plans I'd had in my hands for like, ten seconds, it was a silent meal.
Meerkats and Murder Page 10
