Burn Away, page 2
“How young?”
“I think there was one seventeen-going-on-eighteen. And I heard a rumor another was sixteen. She was a prodigy and likely naive. And vulnerable.”
“You should report him to the police. In fact, I should tell Adam—”
“Please don’t.” Nyssa’s eyes pleaded with Beverly even more than her words. “Not even to Detective Dutton.”
“Why not?”
Nyssa looked down at her hands holding her mug, but Beverly hadn’t missed the glint of tears in her eyes. “I know I should report him. But I don’t have evidence. And if I do file for divorce, I need it to be as amicable as possible. I’m afraid of what he’d do to me otherwise.”
Beverly considered that for a moment. “You’re in an ugly bind, Nyssa, and I do understand that. Truly.”
Nyssa’s laugh was hollow. “Not that it isn’t already bad. He wouldn’t buy me a car to drive to work. I had to find someone willing to sell me a used clunker with my first paychecks from the café. And then there’s Muttley.”
“Your dog?”
“Vernon will say it’s his dog and try to hold on to him out of spite. Even though Muttley clearly favors me.”
Beverly made a mental note to consult Adam anyway, despite Nyssa’s reservations. Maybe there was something he could do without getting Nyssa in trouble with her shitty husband. How could it get much worse? And Beverly wasn’t about to let the man get away with what was technically statutory rape. Even if it was consensual between him and his underage students.
Her anger turned to concern when her cellphone rang, and she saw it was from Agnes Flamm. Agnes didn’t usually call her at this time of day. “What’s up, Agnes? I hope Blaine isn’t giving you any trouble.”
“Oh my, no. That young Blaine has proved to be a model employee. Despite his unsavory background. No, dear, I just wanted to let you know there’s been a fire.”
“A fire? Where?” Beverly uttered a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening that it wasn’t another bombing at Adam’s house.
“An antiques store. Vintage Vibes. But that’s not all. I heard a rumor the police found a body inside.”
“A body?”
“I know the owner, Jared Lake. And I’m worried it might be him.”
“Oh, Agnes, I hope not.”
“And this is the second antiques store fire recently.”
“The second?” That was news to Beverly. A serial arsonist targeting antiques stores, perhaps? That made her start to fret about Harlan Wilford and his Tossed Treasures shop. “Agnes, I must go see Harlan to make sure he’s okay.”
Agnes chuckled. “Don’t think you need to worry about that. Harlan’s with me in my wine shop right now, safe and sound.”
“With you?”
“He’s helping get the store ready for our first live performance. Did you know he’s done some audio work in the past?”
“To be honest, I don’t know much about his past.”
“Neither did I. But he’s such a multi-talented man.”
A tone of something more than admiration crept through the cellphone connection. Maybe that time Beverly thought she’d seen the two of them flirting wasn’t just her imagination. She should be happy about that, shouldn’t she? Then why did it make her heart sink a little bit?
“Agnes, just tell him to be careful.”
“Of course, dear.” Agnes paused, then added, “Have you seen Adam recently? I’m sure he’d have more details about the fires. And other things.”
“Not in several days. I hate to bother him since he’s so busy.” Agnes wasn’t very subtle with her matchmaking. Not that Beverly hadn’t wanted to see Adam. But . . . there was always that “but.”
“I’m sure he’d make time for you, dear.”
Beverly forced a laugh. “Maybe soon.”
After hanging up with Agnes and finishing her snack with Nyssa, Beverly headed to her room. Perhaps there’d be some interesting home-renovation show on. She slid onto the four-poster bed and flipped on the TV to surf through the channels, finding several. But they bored her, too. Who was she kidding? She’d rather watch the true-crime shows.
That was the problem with her, wasn’t it? She wasn’t at all “normal” in any sense of the word. No house, no home base, no husband, let alone a boyfriend, even a shady “employment” history—if being a con woman could count as employment.
Why did she feel so at loose ends? Maybe it was because her five-year vendetta against the NAL to avenge her grandmother’s death wasn’t finished. Ivon Kozak, the mysterious figure her friend, Mr. X, had mentioned, was still out there. And Redbeard, equally enigmatic and dangerous, was on the lam.
Nothing in her life had any sort of closure. Even her criminal louse-of-an-uncle, Reggie Forsythe, was in limbo—caught between life and death on a ventilator in a nursing facility. Beverly should feel sorry for him. But after what he’d done to so many people, including her and Adam, he didn’t deserve much pity.
She stared at the cinnamon-scented pinecones the staff had put on the nightstand as a holiday touch. They were giving her a headache.
She got up to get some Zinfandel from the room’s mini-bar when a knock on the door stopped her in mid-stride. She opened it to find a red-hatted bellhop standing there holding a letter in his hand.
“Special delivery for you, Miss Laborde.”
“For me? From whom?”
“I don’t know, Miss. Came via a courier.”
She gave him a tip, sent him on his way, and studied the envelope. No return address, no postmark. Just her name in letters that looked like they were cranked out by an ordinary computer printer.
She pulled out the note inside, which was also computer-printed in several different colors and fonts, and studied the words. “A friendly word of advice. Don’t pursue the NAL any further, or you might end up like your uncle.”
Beverly stared at it in disbelief and then sank down on the bed, still clutching the card in her hand. Who would have sent it, and why? The enigmatic NAL kingpin, Ivon Kozak, the hired-goon, Redbeard, or someone else entirely? Just when she thought she might start having a more normal life.
Should she tell Adam about it? She got up to place the note in the drawer of the nightstand. Adam had an arson case and who knew what else to deal with. No, she wouldn’t tell him about it just yet.
But that cranberry soak suddenly seemed a lot more appealing. With a double shot of vodka for starters. It’s not as if she’d be getting much sleep tonight.
Chapter 3
Saturday, December 12
Adam strode into the Ironwood Junction PD and headed straight for the reception desk. Arline Newton looked up when he handed over a bag. “What’s this?”
As he headed toward his office, he said over his shoulder, “Crossroads Café had fresh eggnog donuts.”
She called out after him, “Aww, you remembered. If you’re trying to get on my good side, case closed.”
He chuckled as he breezed through the hallway. Arline was a “nogaholic” if there ever was one, although Adam couldn’t understand what she saw in that stuff. Sweet eggy cream. Ugh. Of course, he was fairly sure she preferred it with some rum, Kahlua, and bourbon.
Maybe he was fixating a little too much on the bourbon himself, because he collided with a dark blur that darted out in front of him. Great. Sergeant Mike Moody.
Moody growled at him. “Watch where you’re going, Dutton. Or am I supposed to scrape and bow before the Great Detective as he prances into a room?”
“Knock it off, Moody. Go get some coffee or something.”
Moody glared at Adam one more time, then scurried off toward the break room. Adam had intended to head there first thing and grab some of the station’s extra-dark brew, but he didn’t want to chance another showdown with Moody. Damn the man.
He was in such a bad mood after his encounter with the moody Moody, he almost ran into Sergeant Bill Naigle. “I’m two for two in the klutz department today, Bill. Sorry about that.”
“My fault. Saw you with Moody and had to make sure he hadn’t ripped off any of your skin with those bared teeth of his.”
“It’s getting worse every day.”
“What kind of bee’s up his ass? He owe you money or something?”
“Why would you say that?”
Naigle scowled. “Moody is always hitting me and everybody else up for money for this or that. When we eat out, he never pays his share of the bill. Says he forgot his wallet, or he had some medical thing and will settle after payday. But he never reimburses anyone.”
“Ugh. I didn’t know.”
“It’s getting bad enough people are starting to run the other way when they see him coming. Even Joe Brimm’s been thinking about ways he can get back at him for it.”
Adam’s eyes widened. “Mr. Mild Mannered nerdy forensics guy?”
“Joe said he knew several ways to slowly poison Moody, and no one would ever know.”
“Jeez, remind me not to get on Joe’s bad side.”
“Or Sergeant Gray’s.”
“What, did Moody stiff Charlene, too? The most notoriously cheerful officer in the known universe?”
“Yep. Borrowed a couple hundred and never repaid her. Think she went to the library to get a book of wizard spells.”
Adam shook his head, and Naigle clapped him on the shoulder. “And you watch out for Moody, too, Adam. Everyone’s been talking about how he’s got it in for you. You know we’ve got your back, right?”
“Yeah, Bill. And thanks.”
Adam had just sunk down in the chair at his desk when the in-house phone chirped. Cherry Steele, Chief Quinn’s administrative assistant, was unreasonably calm as she said, “Good morning, Adam. The chief wants you in his office in five.”
“Thanks, Cherry.”
He sighed, but before he could muse any further on the less-than-stellar start to the day, Jinks popped by with a cup of java he recognized as being from Miralee’s Market. Even better than the Crossroads coffee. “Here you go, stud. Figured you could use it.”
Adam hopped up and immediately took a swig of the dark, smoky brew. “Thanks, Jinks. Would be better with Kahlua—or maybe bourbon—but other than that, it’s perfect.”
“You must have got the same invitation to the lion’s den I did. We should walk down to the chief’s office together. United front and all.” She scanned his face. “Late night orgy? Or did you have some hemlock pancakes for breakfast?”
“Sergeant Moody.”
“Ah.” Jinks nodded in sympathy. “Then, I really should have put some Kahlua in there.”
Chief Quinn waited as the two detectives poured into his office and sat in their usual chairs in front of his desk. And as usual, Adam had to squirm around in the chair to get comfortable. Maybe it was those casters that never worked right. Or the vinyl the color of dried blood that made him slip around.
Quinn gazed at their coffee cups with a wistful expression. “God, I could use one of those right now.”
“Still going decaf, sir?” Adam remembered the month after the chief’s doctor had told him to cut it out. The staff now referred to it as the “Dark Ages.”
“Have you ever tasted that stuff? Swill doesn’t begin to describe it. If everyone had to drink decaf, coffee would disappear off the planet.”
Jinks added helpfully, “There’s carob or grain-based drinks. Ayurvedic roasts, rooibos.”
The chief raised an eyebrow and didn’t say anything.
Jinks smiled. “Hot chocolate, then.”
“My doc says even that has too much caffeine. I still have some every now and then. But if you tell him I said so, I’ll say it’s all lies.”
Quinn thumped a stack of papers on his desk. “Fire Chief Vinson and I are putting out a joint statement about the fire at Vintage Vibes. With a note about the tip line, if anyone has more information.”
Jinks asked, “Did Vinson find any link between the fires here and the one in Woodstock? Arson at both?”
The chief shook his head. “Not yet. Could be coincidence the two happen to be antiques stores.”
Adam piped up. “Props to the Medical Examiner, by the way. She stayed up late working on a prelim ID of the body and discovered our victim had two titanium dental implants. As did Jared Lake.”
“How did you know that?”
“I made a call to his sister this morning to double-check.”
Quinn frowned. “Did the prelim autopsy also verify your hunch, Adam?”
“The guy was dead before the fire. Head bashed in, no smoke in the lung tissue.”
Quinn replied, “All things considered, certainly seems like a match. And murder. Has Lake’s sister been able to reach him?”
“Not since the fire.”
“There’s also that, too. Poor Mr. Lake.”
Adam nodded. “The little research I did on Lake makes it seem like he’s clean. No rap sheet, complaints, not even traffic fines.”
Jinks said, “Could be a simple burglary. Lake surprised the perp, got conked, and our burglar set the fire to destroy any evidence.”
Quinn leaned forward in his chair. “Bent Vinson seems to think the fire was set in a methodical manner with an accelerant.”
Adam replied, “And therefore premeditation.”
“Exactly.”
Adam sighed. “I hate to bring this up so soon into the investigation, but my ‘little research’ last night found that Lake was a member of the Northeastern Antiquities League. Not terribly surprising. But it does raise more questions about any ties to the Forsythes, Ivon Kozak, Redbeard, and company.”
Quinn got up briefly to pour himself a cup of an amber liquid from an aluminum dispenser. “Herbal tea,” he said with a grimace. “Was Lake an active NAL member?”
“Not lately. But had been so earlier in his career. About ten years ago.”
Quinn tasted the tea and shuddered. “Sounds like you have a long list of work to do. And Jinks, help as you can when you’re not working that pharmacy robbery case. Farm some of that grunt work over to Bill Naigle.”
Even as his words of dismissal made Adam and Jinks stand up, Quinn added, “Adam, could you stay for a minute?”
Jinks gave a sympathetic look before she left.
Quinn didn’t waste any time with the reason for his request. “I’m getting more irritated—make that furious—each day with Mayor Lehmann for trying to push Moody on me as a detective. And push you out in the process.”
“Your golfing games with the mayor must get a little awkward, sir.”
“Good thing I’ve run out of excuses because the mayor has stopped asking. No more golf games.”
Adam felt a moment of sympathy for the chief. Quinn was in a bind and in the middle, even more than Adam.
Quinn tried another taste of the tea and scowled. “Damn the man. If I make Moody a detective, I’ll have to find the extra money to pay for that position. Money I’d love to have, but just not for Moody. And where’s this magical money going to come from? Otherwise, I’d have to demote you or Jinks, something I’m fighting.”
Adam nodded but kept silent.
“I’m still hoping Lehmann will be ousted in the next election. But the polls show he’s in the lead. Hell, maybe that egotist will finally run for governor like he’s been threatening to do for so long.”
“But he’ll have even more power, won’t he, sir?”
“Yes, but with a whole state to worry about, he won’t have time to concern himself with one town and one PD. Except his cousin. Hell, maybe he’ll even give Moody a state job. Far from here.”
The chief paused to choke down some more of the tea and then looked at Adam over the rim of his cup. “Seen Zelda lately?”
Adam sighed inwardly, keeping his face blank. He’d been trying not to think of the odd relationship he had with his ex-wife, who was now warming the mayor’s bed. And he definitely wasn’t going to tell the chief about Zelda’s offer to have an affair with him while her husband was out of town.
He replied simply, “Not lately, no.”
“Good. Try to keep it that way.”
The chief waved him off, and Adam hurried back to his office where Jinks was waiting, with her brown-booted feet up on his desk. “Not too bad, I hope?”
Adam patted his body. “Everything’s still intact. And as for that ‘lot of work to do’ the chief mentioned, I’m thinking we should talk to Jared Lake’s sister first. Then Lucas Barratt, the victim’s assistant.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Adam tossed his now-empty coffee cup into the trash. “How are Felicia and the kids?”
Jinks crossed her arms over her chest. “That whole Christmas commercialism thing really gets to me.”
“They gave you two a long toy list this year, I take it?”
“What’s a WiFi coding robot, anyway? I mean, whatever happened to basketballs and Barbie dolls? But if by long, you mean a list that stretches from here to the North Pole and back, then yep.” She hopped up. “Decided on your Christmas plans? My offer still stands for you to join us for dinner.”
“Thanks, but I’ll have to check with Harlan.”
“He’s welcome, too. You could also invite Beverly.”
Adam shook his head. He had no idea where that relationship stood. What would she say if he asked? Would she even hang around in town long enough to observe the holidays?
If there was one, and only one, thing he’d learned about Beverly Laborde, it was you could hardly learn anything about her at all. Not until she chose to let you into her world. What would he find there, if he did? Maybe he’d like it, maybe he wouldn’t, or maybe it would still be too hazy to see anything.
Enough of that. Adam heaved a big sigh. It was time for one of his least-favorite parts of being a cop, talking to a family member of someone who was in all likelihood just murdered. But there was no way around it. And with any luck, the victim’s sister would be a strong first link in the chain to finding the killer. One link, one lead at a time.
He didn’t want to think about the broken chains, the unsolved cases. He’d only had one before, and he’d told himself afterward that he’d be damned if he ever had another one. He looked over at Jinks, who was giving him a curious look but just said, “So, let’s get this shit-show on the road.”
