Hunt a Killer, page 4
Frankie sat up. “Yeah, and I can check the camera feeds.”
I whipped my head in his direction. “This isn’t the same as hacking into the school’s grading system to give Bri an A in phys ed.” Another pillow to the face. “Ow!”
“I can do it,” he said. “Investigative journalism is my thing, right? I was able to find the scanned records for the Chicago Theatre case in the CPD online database. Their firewall is surprisingly weak.”
“Are you two continuing that case?” I hugged the pillow to my chest, dropping my gaze. Anything to avoid eye contact. I hadn’t forgotten about the cold case, but Mr. Medina’s felt so much more important.
He hesitated. “Yeah … we would’ve called you, but—”
“We needed a distraction while having to sit through class this week,” Sabrina finished.
I shrugged. The reminder that they still had each other at De La Salle while I was alone at North Shore Prep only stung a little bit, but it was still a reminder I didn’t have Mr. Medina to talk to during lunch anymore. I didn’t have anyone at that school. “What do you have so far?”
“We’re going to work the angle of the ex-lover the detective abandoned. Her left ring finger was broken, and the engagement ring they found doesn’t match her tan line. Then there’s the love letters.”
“Ex-lover, eh?” Frankie’s words sparked a thought. Alderman Corben had called Mrs. Medina by her first name—well, not even. It was a nickname I’d only heard used by Mr. Medina. (The other teachers used her full name, Nicolette.) Then the alderman had placed his hand on her lower back, below her waist. That would suggest familiarity, but was it intimate?
I pictured the dark figure who made sure to stay behind the steel column. An alderman would know where to stand to stay out of camera view if he kept up with the city contracts.
My wheels turned. “Looks like we have two cases. Let’s get to work.”
It was two in the morning before Sabrina fell asleep and Frankie headed out, my dad walking him home. After working through bits of the cold case, we had settled on watching Doctor Strange, Frankie and Mr. Medina’s favorite MCU movie. While mysteries are what first brought us together, we all agreed with Mr. Medina that Benedict Cumberbatch was the best Sherlock and one of our favorite Avengers.
Sabrina lay spread-eagle across my bed. There was no moving her. She might’ve been a petite size two, but when she slept, she was dead to the world. Grabbing my favorite satin pillow, I walked down the hall to the guest bedroom that used to belong to Nana Josette only to notice a light on downstairs. I wandered down the steps and into the kitchen. My dad sat at the round wooden table in his plaid red pajamas, a newspaper from a few days ago in hand as he sipped on a glass of ice water.
“Trouble sleeping?” I asked.
“Your mom just about sweated me out of the room with the heat on so high. And she turned on the space heater.” He raised his glass. “Just needed a cooldown. That and catching up on some news I’ve missed.”
I smiled. I used to love climbing into their bed during the winter just to have that blast of hot air in my face. It always helped me go to sleep when there was too much on my mind, melting away my worries.
Dropping my eyes to the paper, there in black and white, was a large photo of Chief Ryan.
I’d almost forgotten. The same day of Mr. Medina’s death, Chief Ryan had announced his bid for police superintendent, seeing as Superintendent Donahue planned to retire this summer. The article called out how the chief was the only candidate with support from almost all fifty aldermen.
“He was running late that day,” I noted, grabbing my dad’s drink for a sip. “I remember seeing him rush out of headquarters.”
“You were up there grabbing a cold case? Is that how you ended up at the station? Your mother and I assumed, but …”
We both fell silent. This was not a conversation I wanted to have right now. “Well, I’m going to go—”
“Wait. Jolene.” Dad reached out to touch my arm. “You know this tension between you and your mother … She just wants to see you get out of this neighborhood. It can be hard to break generational cycles. Your Nana Josette moved up here from Mississippi during Jim Crow. My ancestors came here long before then, settling for low-paying jobs at the meatpacking plants. It’s time for our family to leave the South Side. We may not have the means, but you—” He tapped his temple. “You got those smarts.”
“But I’m stuck at North Shore alone. When I was at De La Salle—”
“At De La Salle, you would skip, play hooky, and still had straight As. We both know you weren’t challenged. Look at you now, a sophomore with a full AP schedule. You might even finish high school in three years, instead of four.
“Your mom and I want to push you to be the greatest you can be. Just like Mr. Medina did. That’s why he wrote you that recommendation, helped us get you that partial scholarship with the Chicago Police Scholars—”
“I didn’t need all that. I like the cold cases. I like helping out the people here—the ones who get ignored by everyone in uniform. You understand that. But Mom—do you remember how she reacted when she saw my first murder board? The things she and I said to each other? What she did?”
He folded up his paper slowly. “She’s worried about you—your future. Do this for us, for me. Four-year college. You don’t have to go to some East Coast Ivy. It can be a state school nearby if you wanna stay close. I just want you to open yourself up to more. I’ll work on your mom about the PI thing.”
I crinkled my nose, not wanting to give. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s my girl.” He smiled, picking up his drink.
“I’m keeping your ice water, though.” I swiped the glass before heading back up to the guest room. I settled into bed, guzzling down the cold liquid. The ice clinked in the glass. One simple clink, and my mind flashed back to the screech of metal on metal. Squeezing my eyes shut, I turned on the space heater to blow in my face and wished for it to take the memories away.
Saturday, February 26, 12:03 p.m.
BY THE TIME I woke up the next morning, Sabrina had gone home to change for the memorial. I sent a quick text to Reya double-checking the status of Mr. Medina’s case after everything I had learned at school the day before. Reya’s response was one I didn’t want to hear. She confirmed that the final police report ruled Mr. Medina’s an accidental death.
Case closed.
Everything about that was wrong. And now today I had to say goodbye to the only adult who ever encouraged me to pursue my dream.
“Are you sure you don’t want your dad to go with you?” Mom asked. Together, along with too much Eco Style gel, we had managed to lay my edges and weave my braided hair into an elegant knot at my nape. Mom slid a few gold bobby pins by my ear to restrain potential flyaways as I stared at my reflection.
I couldn’t help but notice she offered for Dad to come with me, not her. She must’ve realized her presence wouldn’t exactly be a comfort right now. “I’ll be okay. I’ll have Frankie and Bri.”
I rubbed my hands over the dark wool dress that fell to my knees, smoothing out a small wrinkle at my waist. It was a size twelve, but surprisingly I had a little room. With black tights and a pair of Reya’s high heels, I almost didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror. But this was for Mr. Medina, and I would be my best self.
I will not break.
A notification alert pinged on my phone as I pulled on my coat. “That’s probably Sabrina. She’s borrowing her girlfriend’s ride for us to use today.”
Mom tied my—Mr. Medina’s—scarf at my neck. “Text me when you arrive.”
I nodded, letting her kiss my cheek before heading out the door. I lived for these little moments, when things between us didn’t feel so strained. My thoughts shifted for a moment, wondering if Dad had talked to her already about my dreams to become a PI. And he was right: With the track they had me on at school, I could graduate early, get a part-time job to save up for my own space—
“Jo?”
I turned around at the edge of the driveway to see my mom standing at the door.
“Today is about you saying goodbye, all right? Reya told me the case is closed, so it’s time for you to move on. I’m sure that’s what he would have wanted.” She gave a light smile, holding her arms around herself in the cold.
And just like that, the moment between us was gone.
She knew nothing about what he would’ve wanted.
I dropped my eyes to the ground, no energy to argue with her, and turned back to hop into the old Volkswagen minibus. Opening the side door, I was greeted by Frankie sitting in the passenger seat in a dark suit while Sabrina sat behind the wheel in her pink faux fur. She’d curled her hair into bouncy ringlets held back with a black satin bow.
“Everything okay with you two?” she asked as I slid the door closed with a bang.
I shrugged, watching my mom disappear back in the house. “I mean, I know she’s not all bad. She just doesn’t get why this is important to me—making sure Mr. Medina’s case isn’t just swept away …” The possibility of him becoming another cold banker box in the police records room. I shuddered, shaking off the thought.
“Let’s get going. It’s almost twelve thirty, and we gotta survive Bri’s driving all the way uptown.” Frankie pointed to my seat belt as Sabrina stuck out her tongue at him.
He threw a look at her as she rolled over the curb while backing out the driveway.
“I forgot to ask.” Frankie shifted in his seat to face me once we got on the road. “Was it hard going back to school yesterday?”
I tightened my seat belt as Sabrina missed a stop sign. This was going to be a long ride. “I guess. There were all these cards and teddy bears and condolence wishes outside his door, but by the end of the day, they’d been cleared away. Now his office is just dark. I think it’s taking me a while to accept that he’s gone.”
He nodded. “I can get that. It’s different for us. We didn’t see him every day like you did. And it had been a while since we all got together to talk mysteries. After you left De La Salle, it kinda turned into you and him bouncing ideas around during your lunch period while me and Bri did our own thing.” Frankie looked over to Sabrina.
“We keep each other busy,” she replied, speaking more to herself than to anyone. She kept her eyes on the cars in front of her. “Do you think—I don’t know if this is weird to ask, but—will your parents let you come back to De La Salle? It was Mr. Medina’s idea for you to go to North Shore, right?”
I sucked in a breath. The one thing I used to always dream about hadn’t crossed my mind once since the incident. My focus had shifted to Mr. Medina’s case, and to leave the one place he worked so hard for me to get into … “It feels like that would be a bit disrespectful at this point.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” She caught my eye in her rearview, forcing herself to smile.
“Hey. We still have our Friday-night hangouts. And you know I have no problem skipping class to grab new cases.” My words were more for me than her. With Mr. Medina gone, it was like I’d lost one of the last threads tying me to my old life before North Shore. I still had my investigations with Frankie and Sabrina, though at times, it felt like that was slipping away, too. We didn’t do nearly as many cold cases as we used to.
The three of us slipped into random small talk for the rest of the ride, with Frankie shuffling through his dad’s Spotify playlist of Carrie Underwood; Earth, Wind & Fire; and BTS. (Pops had range.) A half hour later, we managed to find parking on the street, miraculously.
“This is what he left the South Side for?” Frankie glanced up at the high-rise. The exterior was a mix of dark steel and frosted glass, modern luxury at its finest. A man in a charcoal-colored wool coat and white gloves held open the door as we walked in. The lobby was immaculate, accents of dark wood, gold, and black marble. We could see our reflections in the elevator doors, it was that shiny.
“This was Mrs. Medina’s place before she married Mr. Medina. Her parents left it to her. I’ve been here a few times to go over North Shore’s admission requirements with my parents.” I pressed the button for the top floor.
“Oh, before we get up there—” Sabrina shimmied out of her coat. Underneath, she wore a tailored blazer over dark slacks. It was a little low-cut, but she was always the most fashion forward of us all. “Grams had gossip when I called her this morning. One of the conductors was suspended for the incident, but a city official helped him get a nice retirement package instead.”
Frankie raised a brow. “That seems backward.”
“She gave me the name; I typed it in my phone. I couldn’t remember who you said the alderman was, Jo.” She scrolled on her phone as the elevator opened.
Mrs. Medina was in the foyer, shaking hands with one of Illinois’s state senators and his husband. She looked exquisite as always in her black lace ensemble, but she couldn’t hide her blotchy cheeks and red eyes. I stared at the man standing next to her, greeting guests as they entered the loft. He wore a navy three-piece suit with a white rose tucked in his lapel, his coifed hair at a reasonable height.
“Alderman Corben,” I muttered.
Sabrina looked up from her phone. “Yes, that’s it!”
I nodded to where he stood with Mrs. Medina.
We stepped off the elevator, passing our coats to an attendant, and within moments the alderman had his hand out to greet us. “Miss Kelley, we meet again!”
“Yes, yes we do.” I shook his hand, pressing my lips together.
Mrs. Medina offered a polite smile as she pulled me in for a hug and a quick peck on the cheek before moving on to my friends. “Thank you all for coming.”
“Of course, Mrs. Medina. If there’s anything you need, well, anything we can help with—”
“That’s sweet of you, Frankie. I’m so glad you all made it. I have a few things of Manuel’s I think he would want you to have, but please, make yourself comfortable in the meantime.” She gave my hand a quick squeeze before turning to greet the next batch of arrivals.
“So that’s the same alderman?” Frankie asked as we moved into the main hall.
“Mm-hmm. Still thinking coincidence?”
“Convenient,” Sabrina answered, waggling her brows. “And they do look pretty cozy.”
Behind us, the alderman had his hand at Mrs. Medina’s back again—this time right above her hip—whispering something in her ear.
“Reminds me of another Michelle Gray case.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Frankie pulled us away toward the food. “Let’s grab a bite. Watch the room a little.”
“Are you thinking the killer is here?” I darted my eyes around, ready to confront anyone looking sus.
“I’m thinking you’re thinking you already have an idea who it is. You know how we work. Figure out motivations, create a pool of suspects, then whittle them down one by one using means and opportunity.”
I sighed, letting myself relax a little. “Fine.”
“You guys eat. I’m going to go gossip with the neighborhood aunties.” Sabrina walked off toward the edge of the loft where the sliding glass windows faced a snow-covered terrace. She joined the two women who stood there, huddled close together, whispering excitedly with red wine in hand.
Everything looked how I remembered it from the last time I was here. Myrrh- and chrism-scented candles made the Medinas’ home smell like a cathedral. Dark hardwood ran the length of the space, lush sofa chairs and mahogany side tables strategically placed. Abstract paintings in gilded frames covered the walls while crystal chandeliers hung from the fifteen-foot ceiling. Today, a long table ran through the center of the loft filled with fancy hors d’oeuvres that looked questionable at best, and a few dishes inspired by Mr. Medina’s Spanish heritage. The night I was here last, he had made us his mother’s paella—crispy rice, mussels, and saffron. Whatever this soupy rice dish was in front of me, it was not paella.
“What are you thinking about?” Frankie piled his plate high with bacon-wrapped scallops and cucumber slices with salmon mousse.
I cringed at the pink mush. “Do you know what that is?”
“No,” he replied, popping one in his mouth. “But Deputy Mayor Khara’s wife has been throwing these back like ballpark peanuts with her pinkie high in the air. Gotta blend in.”
I rolled my eyes, sticking to the fruits and cheese as we walked around for a while.
“Think they have a library here?” Frankie asked. “It’s probably filled with all his old mysteries.”
“It’s down the hall.”
Right as I said that, Mrs. Medina snatched her arm away from the alderman, stomping off in that very direction. Visibly annoyed, he followed not too far behind her.
Frankie noticed it, too. “Well, I’ll give it to you. That’s—”
“Suspicious,” I finished.
“She could just be overwhelmed with all the people.” He shrugged. “Could be nothing.”
“Could be,” I muttered. It took all my effort not to follow after the two of them.
Sabrina took that opportunity to waltz back over, breaking my view as Mrs. Medina slipped out of sight on the other side of the room. “The aunties had all the tea as usual. They think Mrs. Medina moved on way too fast. Apparently, she and Jay knew each other in school, former flames. They had some opinions about his presence here.”
“I mean he’s an alderman, right? Don’t they make sure all their constituents are happy? Maybe he’s just helping a new widow through a tough time. She doesn’t have any other family here to comfort her.”
Sabrina and I both glared at Frankie.
“He’s too touchy,” I huffed.
“And he’s trying to make her too happy,” Sabrina added.
“Okay, okay. I just want to make sure we’re looking at it from all angles,” he surrendered, but not before downing a cracker with a vibrant orange smear across it. “Oh, you gotta try that one. It tastes like the ocean.”
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