See Something, page 16
“Yeah. You’re right. We’ll probably add another layer of security around her,” he said.
“Me too?”
“Well, I may be spending more nights here, if that’s okay with you.” This was followed by the Groucho Marx eyebrow wiggle and silent-movie-villain mustache twirl. “Strictly in the line of duty, you understand.”
“Understood, sir,” I said. “But seriously, the Angels are going to be asking if Emily can come here for the weekly meeting. Do you think it will be allowed?”
“Maybe. How about if Detective Rouse sits in on the meeting with her? Would the Angels go for that? Having an armed guard in the room?”
“Are you kidding? They’d be thrilled. They’ll probably drive poor Joyce nuts with questions about the detective business though.”
“She won’t mind. The woman loves her job.”
“Do you love yours?” I realized I’d never asked him that before.
Thoughtful frown and long pause. “I don’t think ‘love’ is the right word. I like being a cop. I’m good at it. I guess we all like to make a living at something we’re good at.” He gathered up the dishes and carried them to the dishwasher. “But love it? No. I love you and my parents and my sister and the nephews. That’s quite different.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve always liked being in the television industry,” I said. “It’s been my dream since I was little. You know something? I think this new job—as program director—might get to be my favorite part of the business so far. But do I love it? Nope.” I put the remains of our breakfast items back into the refrigerator with a silent reminder to self that if Pete would be staying over more often, I’d need to do some serious food shopping. I gave him a quick impulsive hug. “But I love you.”
His return hug could have made us both late for our respective liked-a-lot-but-not-loved jobs. We reluctantly moved apart. I took off my apron, organized the contents of my hobo bag, slid my laptop into its case, and together Pete and I climbed down the twisty staircase to the back hall. I glanced into the laundry room and realized that the ironing fairies hadn’t appeared. Oh well. O’Ryan had already joined Aunt Ibby, but poked his head through the cat door to acknowledge our presence.
“I think I’ll follow you to work.” Pete spoke in serious-cop voice. “Just to look around, and to let anyone interested know that you have a friend on the force.”
“You’re worried about me.”
“I’ll know exactly where you and the Vette are every minute. I’m just taking a look around.”
“Okay. I’m glad you are. See you tonight?”
“Absolutely. I’ll call you later.” Short pause. “And Lee? Call me if you see anything—anything at all that doesn’t look right. Promise?”
“Promise.” I unlocked the garage and watched as Pete drove away, knowing that all day long I’d be focused on finding things that didn’t look right. I was very much aware of the two GPS devices hidden beneath my beautiful car. I’d be glad when all this was over and both of the damned things were gone. I checked the rearview mirror. Pete was two cars behind me. I looked away from the mirror as soon as I saw the swirling colors and flashing lights in the shiny surface. Driving along on one of Salem’s narrow one-way streets is not a good place to take eyes off the road. I’d check out the oncoming vision later. Or not.
I tilted the mirror to one side so that it no longer distracted me with its flashing and swirling. It no longer showed me what was behind me either. When I turned off Derby Street into the WICH-TV parking lot, Pete followed, made a U-turn in the lot, gave a toot of his horn, and continued on his way.
I pulled into my assigned parking space in the far right corner of the lot and, still avoiding the mirror, looked out over the harbor—where everything looked just as it should. I shut off the big engine and glanced around. Francine’s truck was in its usual spot. Ranger Rob’s Ford truck was there too, sans horse trailer. Both mobile units, the big new one and the converted Volkswagen bus, were in their regular spots. Everything looked right. I checked the dashboard clock. I was a few minutes early. With a resigned sigh, I tilted the rearview mirror back to where it belonged—and where I was undoubtedly going to see something that didn’t look right.
Flashing lights. Swirling colors. Then I saw the Salem Common—at first from a distance—almost like a drone camera video. I saw the whole place—the white arched entrance, the kids’ playground, the bandstand. The view narrowed. I saw the woman sitting alone on the bench, just as I’d seen Emily the first time. But now she was blindfolded, like the woman on River’s card. The two swords were there too, but this time each one was held by a man. The men’s backs were toward me and the swords were pointed at Emily.
Pop. The vision was gone.
I sat there for a moment, still staring at the mirror, which now reflected exactly what it should—the WICH-TV parking lot. Automobiles and trucks in a variety of shapes and shades. Pavement, painted white lines, a glimpse of granite seawall. In the lower left corner of the mirror I saw a flash of color near the ground-level studio door. It was Katie in full clown costume with Paco on his leash. I stopped the mirror gazing, picked up my handbag and laptop from the passenger seat, and got out of the car.
“Hi, Katie.” I waved and started across the lot. She waved back and started toward me, her big clown shoes making the act of walking cute and comical. Paco, wearing a bright yellow ruffled collar, trotted along by her side.
The gray sedan seemed to come from nowhere, speeding onto the lot, hurtling straight toward Katie, blocking my vision. I heard her scream, heard Paco howl. The gray car didn’t slow down. I ducked between Francine’s truck and call-screener Therese Della Monica’s little PT Cruiser, watching as it sped past me and back out onto Derby Street. I dropped purse and laptop and ran toward where Katie lay on the ground, Paco standing close beside her, teeth bared.
CHAPTER 28
“Katie!” I yelled, racing across the pavement while hitting 911 on my phone. “Are you all right?” Such a silly question. Of course she’s not all right. I knelt beside her, relieved when her eyes flicked open, when her hand reached out for Paco, grasping his collar.
“Paco saved me.” Her voice was hoarse. “He pushed me out of the way. Is that guy crazy or what? He could have killed me.”
I spoke into the phone. “We need an ambulance and a police officer. Hit-and-run.” I gave the address. I also gave the gray sedan’s license plate number. This time I’d seen it and memorized it. “A gray 1997 Mercury,” I told the 911 operator. “Male driver. Red hair and beard.”
Katie raised her head, struggled to push herself upright. “Stay still, Katie,” I told her. “Let’s find out if anything’s broken before you try to get up.”
She lay down. “Paco saved me,” she said again. “I think he may have been hit. Listen. He’s whining. Is he okay?” By this time a small crowd had gathered around us and the sound of sirens grew close.
“What happened?”
“Was that a hit-and-run?”
“Look, the little clown is hurt.”
“The dog’s paw is bleeding.”
Paco whimpered softly and held his right front paw awkwardly off the ground. The yellow ruffled collar was steaked with red. Paco the wonder dog was not okay. I heard the studio door open.
“What’s going on out here?” It was Chester’s voice. “Oh no. Agnes! What happened?” He knelt beside Katie. Paco growled.
“It was a hit-and-run, Chester,” I said. “The ambulance is on the way.”
“I don’t think anything is broken, Chester,” Katie said. “I’m all right. Paco saved me. Can somebody take him to his vet? He’s hurt.”
An ambulance pulled into the lot and the people scattered. Two EMTs ran to Katie’s side. “Make room, please.” They motioned me and Chester away. We moved. Paco didn’t leave his position. “Stretcher and neck brace,” one said, gently prodding Katie’s arms and legs. and the other quickly produced the needed items. Two police cruisers, lights flashing, sirens blaring, arrived on the now-crowded scene. The first cruiser to arrive was Pete’s. He and the uniformed cop from the other one moved quickly, asking questions as they drew closer to where the EMTs had carefully secured Katie on the stretcher. Ranger Rob appeared, kissed Katie on the forehead, gathered Paco into his arms, assuring the by then immobilized Katie that everything was going to be all right, and carried the dog to his truck.
“Did you see what happened?” Pete was at my side. “I’d just walked into the station when your call came in.”
“I saw it all, Pete. It’s the bearded guy. He was trying to kill her!”
“Was he the one Katie saw messing with your car?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It was the other one. She was wearing the clown suit when she saw him. I suppose blond crewcut told gray beard about her. It’s the only way he had to identify her.”
“You did a good job, getting the license number,” he said. “We’d already found that car abandoned less than a mile from here. It was stolen last night. This guy is taking a lot of risks. He’s even willing to kill again to cover up his tracks.”
I found all this hard to believe. “All Katie did was see somebody hanging around my car. It’s not like she took his picture or anything.”
“I know,” Pete said. “And other than the dye job, he’s not even trying to disguise himself. It’s almost as if he’s trying to get caught.”
“Then why wouldn’t he just turn himself in?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know, but it happens. Sometimes they do it because getting caught by us is a better fate than what their higher-ups can do to them when they mess up a big operation.”
“Do you think that’s what he’s doing? Trying to get himself captured?”
“It could be that,” Pete said, “but in this case I don’t think so. He’s just too brazen. It’s possible that he has such a high opinion of himself that he believes he can outsmart us. Outsmart everyone. Remember the Son of Sam murders? The killer actually sent letters to the newspapers bragging about the crimes.”
It was a chilling thought. “Do you think there could be more murders? That the kindly high school English teacher is enjoying his crime spree?”
“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll get him.”
Just about all of the WICH-TV staff had gathered in the parking lot by then, along with some lookie-loos who happened to be passing by. Scott and Old Jim were already in the VW bus. Rhonda ran toward us. “Rob phoned. He says they took Katie to Salem Hospital. Did you see what happened? Is she badly hurt?”
“Paco knocked her out of the way. She was conscious and talking when the ambulance came,” I told her. “I don’t think she was badly hurt. She was mostly concerned about Paco. His paw was bleeding.”
“Rob said he’s taking the dog to the vet and then he’s going to the hospital to check on Katie,” she said. “I’d better round up the crew before Doan figures out that all the help has left the building.”
“I’m surprised that he’s not out here too,” I said.
“He’s reading over Katie’s contract in case he has to hire another clown to take her place.”
“I’d better get going too,” Pete said. “I’m going to take a look at that car.”
“I guess Rhonda’s roundup includes me. Call me when you get a chance, please,” I said, while wondering if Scott and Old Jim would get to the impound lot before Pete did. I was pretty sure I’d get a call from Scott, once he found out that I’d been an eyewitness to attempted murder. I went back and retrieved my purse and laptop, brushed them off, and followed the parade of on- and off-air talent, salespeople, and videographers back to work.
The first thing I did once inside was call Aunt Ibby. I surely didn’t want her to find out about what had happened to Katie from anyone but me. I left out the part of darned near being hit myself. I’d tell her that some other time. I promised to keep her informed about Katie’s condition and got back to business.
With the rehearsal for Ranger Rob’s Rodeo scratched, I hurriedly rearranged my planned schedule. The program director gig wasn’t turning out to be as orderly as I’d thought it was going to be. I put Chester to work on bookshelves for the Saturday Morning Business Hour and phoned Captain Billy to schedule a guest shot on Shopping Salem. The bookshelf project reminded me of my quest for a dream book. Perhaps the public library’s dream book selection wouldn’t be as esoteric as what I might find in some of Salem’s witch shops, but mists and butterflies and tasseled shoes seem like fairly ordinary things people might dream about. Well, maybe not the tassels. I was hesitant to share my dreams with Aunt Ibby. She’s still uncomfortable with my scrying “gift.” I called her back. She promptly agreed to bring home a few books on the subject without asking any questions as to why I wanted them.
Ranger Rob texted me from the hospital to say that Katie seemed to be fine but that her doctor wanted her to stay overnight for observation. “She wants to come straight back to the station and resume rehearsals,” he texted, “but I talked her into staying the night.”
“Good news,” I texted back. “I’ll spread the word. How’s Paco?”
“Vet says his paw is badly scraped but probably not broken. She’s going to keep him overnight for more X-rays and blood work.”
I knew Bruce Doan would be delighted to hear that he wouldn’t need to replace either clown or dog, so I rode Old Clunky up to the second floor to deliver the good news. Rhonda buzzed Doan’s office and told me to go right in. “Is Scott back yet?” I asked.
“On his way,” she said. “He says he hit a double on this one.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Haven’t the slightest,” she said. “Scottie likes to talk in riddles sometimes. We’ll know soon enough.”
“Guess so,” I agreed and tapped on the station manager’s door. I delivered my happy message, assuring the boss that in all likelihood, Katie and Paco would report for work the following day, then—skipping the elevator—used the metal staircase and returned to my own office.
Ignoring the not-too-big pile of papers on my desk, I swung my chair around so that I faced the newsroom. I didn’t see Old Jim, but Scott was back, high-fiving everybody in sight. He caught my eye, put thumb and little finger to his ear and mouthed “Call me.”
I didn’t hesitate. I hit his private number and watched as he pulled the phone from his pocket. It was almost like Facetime, but bigger and better. “What have you got, Scott? Must be something good.”
“We went straight to the impound lot after Katie got hit. I guess you’d figured that. You should have been there, Moon. Your boyfriend was there. He looked plenty busy, investigating both cars.”
“Both cars? The gray sedan and what else?”
“A cute little red Mazda. At least what was left of it.”
CHAPTER 29
I darn near dropped the phone. That Mazda? The one the black-dyed crew-cut beachboy killer was stalking me with? “Did Katie tell you about the red Mazda she saw in our parking lot?” I asked, not sure of how much Scott might know about my connection with that particular car.
“Oh yeah. She figured he might have put a GPS under your Vette. Rob told me about it. Did he? Was your car bugged?”
It still is. “Yep. It was. You say the Mazda is wrecked?”
“Totaled. Your boyfriend has a crew going all over it. My contact guy at the impound yard says they towed it from over near Castle Rock. Looks like somebody drove it right into a bridge abutment. Pretty much tore off the whole right side. He says it looks like there was blood in the front seat. We couldn’t get close enough for Jim to get good pictures of it though. The gray Mercury was closer to the fence. A little front-end damage was all I could see on that one. How’s Katie?”
“She’s going to be all right,” I said. “Paco shoved her out of the way. He took a hit but hopefully, no broken bones.”
“Glad to hear it. Nice dog. You saw it all, huh?”
“I did. It happened so fast it was like a blur. But I did see that Red Beard was driving.”
“What I’d like to know, Moon, is what all this has to do with you.” I detected some genuine concern in his voice. “Why does anyone want to bug your car?”
I wish I knew for sure. “Not sure,” I said. “We think it must have something to do with my connection to Emily Hemenway.”
“The chick that’s mixed up with the real estate guy getting killed, right?”
“Yes. Did you know the Mercury was stolen?”
“Yep. We stopped on the way here and interviewed the owner. I did that one live. For the morning news. Did you see it? No? She had a security camera. The cops have already grabbed the tape though. She says it was late last night. She’d already gone to bed. The car was unlocked. The red-bearded dude just walked right up the driveway, got in and jump-started it somehow.” He waved to me. “Come on in here. Jim and Marty are editing. Come on. I’ll give you a sneak preview. Show you what you’re missing by changing jobs.”
Changing jobs wasn’t exactly my idea. “I’ll be right there.” I shoved the pile of papers into the top desk drawer and headed for the newsroom.
It was nice to see the welcoming smiles and calls of greeting as I approached Scott’s desk. After all, I knew everybody there. I’d been one of them for years—though I’d never rated a desk in that rarified room. I passed a desk—a new-looking shiny one—bearing a brass plaque with Howard Templeton’s name on it. Howard wasn’t there. Were Howie and Francine off somewhere covering something more important than Scott’s two-car bonanza?
“Okay, Scott, time for show-and-tell,” I said.
“Sure. A little payback for that still shot of Red Beard you sent over. I totally missed it. Thanks, Moon.”
“It’s your story. Not mine.”
He led the way to the bank of monitors in a corner. Marty and Jim had their heads together in front of a bright screen. Even from halfway across the room I recognized the rear end of the gray Mercury. The view was shot from behind a chain-link fence—a much less terrifying aspect than the same vehicle hurtling past me while I cowered between cars on the WICH-TV lot. I gave myself silent kudos for memorizing that license plate number so fast.
