Hold for Release, page 2
What is it, baby? Carlotta, R U OK?
Jake’s jaw tightened. Had she already found out? Who else would even know?
6 dogs killed.
They didn’t own any… oh, those dogs, at the animal shelter. Sorry, but they couldn’t keep them all. She was always wanting to take in some lost cause. He scratched his head. Like him.
6 are dead.
Bad dog kibble? He responded.
Like the story he’d covered three years ago. Probably another case of cheap, tainted dog chow from Asia.
U sound upset. Have you been taking more of those hormones?
She could be jumpy, especially lately. Like a smoke alarm going off for no reason.
Ed is dead. Thought you’d want a scoop on the story. I’m on the phone with 9-1-1.
A knot formed in the pit of his stomach.
B there soon. B careful.
Delicate hands massaged Jake’s shoulders, and their owner let out a sigh. Hands covered his eyes. A sickening, yet familiar, scent of lemons overpowered his senses. Jake spun his office chair around. Buxom-blonde Allison in a tight, hot pink suit. All five feet, ten inches, and one hundred and twenty pounds of her. Jake’s cheeks flamed at the knowledge. One time this journalist did not want the facts. Was it his imagination, or had she become more aggressive? Or had he been so desperate to talk to someone else, he’d overlooked obvious warning signs?
That night, Allison had said she wanted advice on an assignment. Not that many years ago, Jake had been the newbie. He knew what it was like. He’d just wanted to help. And then, like any talented journalist, she got him to talk. Yeah, he should have discussed his problems with Carlotta and not with Allison. But Carlotta had been volunteering more and more lately. She didn’t have time for him, and that night, Allison did. The alcohol didn’t help matters.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Allison said.
“I… I interviewed the mayor earlier.” Jake stood, averted his gaze, and moved out of her way. “I’ve gotta go.”
Allison blocked Jake’s path and grabbed his shoulders. “What is it, sweetie? The wife?”
He quirked a brow. Why did I ever talk with her?
“You and I should go out again for drinks,” she said. “We could just talk.”
Yeah, like last time. No, thanks. Jake pried off Allison’s brightly painted claws, put on his sport coat and black fedora, grabbed his car keys, and dashed down the hall. “A dead man and dogs at the shelter. Carlotta’s shaken up.” He bit his lip. “She could be in danger.” Carlotta just had to be there alone. Who volunteered at night after work? And for a nonprofit, no less. Only Carlotta, the do-gooder. Anything to help her stay busy and keep her from dealing with reality.
A tall, dark-haired, hefty figure stepped closer and stopped short of colliding with him. “Whoa.”
The kid from the entertainment section. Todd, No. Keith? Randy, Randy Rader. Likable guy, but somewhat green. Jake performed a double take at Randy’s attire—a black shirt with a blue telephone booth and black and blue plaid pants. Apparently, the guy enjoyed watching a certain British science fiction show. Come to think of it, he’d like a time machine himself, so he could go back and avoid spending time with Allison in the first place.
“Oops. My bad.” Randy adjusted his glasses. “Hey, did you say dead animals? Where and when?”
“My wife volunteers at the McKinley Animal Shelter. Dogs were killed, also, the director.” He pushed past the kid, raced toward the lone elevator, and pressed the lit green arrow.
When the elevator doors opened, Randy tripped as he followed Jake inside and shook his head. “The triad, dude. The McDonald Triad.” Hydraulics pressed the elevator doors shut. The shaft creaked.
Jake rubbed his temple. “Huh?” The lingering odor of a variety of hygiene products worn by other employees overwhelmed him.
Randy counted off on his fingers. “You know, bedwetting, fire-setting, animal cruelty. Three characteristics that can predict psychopathic behavior.”
Jake loosened the blue tie Carlotta had given him for his last birthday and examined it. “Yeah, I’m familiar with the triad. What does that have to do with this?”
“We’ve received several reports of arson fires lately. Shelly’s on maternity leave. So, I’m working on a story right now. Now those animals at the shelter...”
Bing. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Jake stepped forward, teetering on his right foot. One more step and he’d hit the mail guy—tall kid, dark hair, yellow jogging suit—like a giant pencil. Wow, could Pencil Boy’s cart be any fuller? After the cart passed, Jake hopped out and darted toward the front door of the Cincinnati News building, but then he stopped and oscillated toward his coworker. “What, no number three for your triad, man?”
Randy exited the elevator and shrugged.
Jake stepped closer and patted Randy on the shoulder. “As my math teacher used to say, ‘Keep this to yourself.’” He shifted his gaze upward. “And get some new pants. If there is one thing Stu doesn’t trust—”
Randy grimaced. “People who speak with accents—”
Jake counted off on his fingers. “Wear plaid, mispronounce names… I gotta go.” He hurried outside, his path illuminated by muted lights overhead. He unlocked and opened the door to his shiny red compact car, climbed inside. and fastened his seat belt. Jake started the car engine and kicked off his brown loafers. Much improved. He grabbed his cell phone and texted Carlotta. I’m on my way.
Dogs R barking again. I think someone might B outside.
Maybe it’s the police, baby. Any sign of them yet? Ask the 9-1-1 operator. His phone alarm chimed. A reminder to pick up Carlotta for dinner. Perhaps Jake should tell her his news at the animal shelter and not at the restaurant. Might be handy to have some officers on hand, keep the peace.
No. And I smell smoke 2. wondering if I should leave. I better tell the operator.
Arson. Dead animals. Jake dropped his phone. He blew out a breath, muttered a curse, and threw the vehicle in reverse. His wheels screeched as he drove across rows of empty parking spaces and raced out of the parking lot. “Whatever you do, Carly, don’t become my next exclusive. I don’t want to report on you.”
2
A distant siren sounded, followed by a rap at the front door of the animal shelter. Carlotta’s heart pounded faster than Papi’s hands could play the congas. If only Jake was here. What would he say?
Her mind flashed to memories of all the suspense novels she’d read while waiting for Jake to get home from work. Could she obtain some sort of advice for this situation?
Another knock. What killer knocked on the door? Carlotta unlocked the door of Ed’s office and crept toward the entryway. The police had wasted no time in getting here.
“They’re here. Thanks,” she mumbled into her phone. She turned it off and stuffed it in her pocket. Minutes earlier, the operator had let her know the police were almost there. Must have been them.
Carlotta hesitated before unlocking the dead bolt and slowly unlatching the old chain lock Ed had installed. She blinked rapidly. Ed had worked at the shelter for as long as she’d been a volunteer. How could he be dead?
She reached for the doorknob but refused to turn it. Carlotta drew in a shaky breath. What if it wasn’t the police? The siren from earlier had ended. She blew out another breath. Who else would it be? They probably turned off the siren as they got closer.
Wham. A thud against the window. A younger-looking man pressed his face against the glass, wild eyes peering directly at her. Carlotta screamed.
The man rapped on the windowpane. “Are you OK in there? Are you hurt?” He flung open the unlocked door and approached—still maintaining a fair distance between them. A familiar scent accompanied him—like her abuelo after smoking a pipe. “I started working in the building next door recently. I thought I heard a scream.” Dirty-blond hair and glasses framed his slender face. He wore a mint green polo shirt, khaki slacks, and brown dress shoes—overdressed compared to her pink blouse, khaki skort, and white tennies. Definitely younger than her, by maybe five years or more. Very early thirties, perhaps?
She looked away from his intrusive stare. “That was me. I’m so scared.”
“Are you all right?”
“I am, but someone broke in here. My boss and, um, several dogs are dead. The intruder stole some items and started a fire. I already called the police. They should be here soon.” She clasped one hand to her chest. “Sorry. You scared me at first.”
“Are you sure you’re OK?”
She looked up to meet his gaze. “Yes, I’m fine.” Fine. That word again. Carlotta took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re here. Would you mind staying with me until the police arrive?”
A slight smile spread across the man’s face. “Certainly.”
Carlotta unwrapped a stick of gum, popped it in her mouth, and chomped it like a pack of Chihuahuas attacking a calf’s ankle—something her uncle had claimed to have witnessed firsthand though she doubted the veracity of his claim. If he were still alive, oh, what a story she’d have to share.
A spider scurried across the floor. Eek! Carlotta stomped it with her shoe. “I don’t like bugs.”
“You are not alone. Entomophobia is a common fear.”
Not alone, eh? I’m a bug freak, and there are more of us. Great.
A minute later, a Cincinnati PD cruiser pulled into the driveway, and Carlotta pointed. “There they are.” She turned to Wild Eyes and reached out to shake his hand. “Thank you for checking in, Mr.…”
“Mr. Walters, with Walters and Petersheim. It’s the law firm in the brownstone next door.” He handed her his card and pointed to the phone number. “If you need anything, please call.”
Carlotta nodded.
An officer approached and identified himself as Officer King—a very tall man with blond hair and blue eyes.
As Carlotta provided her name to the police officer, Mr. Walters disappeared. Carlotta started to toss the card into the trash but then stuffed it in her pocket. The man didn’t say what kind of law he practiced. Maybe he handled adoptions. Better to keep his card, just in case. As a last resort. No one said she had to like Jake’s idea of adopting children instead of undergoing more infertility treatments. But even she had to admit the current plan was getting them nowhere.
“Step outside.” Officer King stood with his gun ready and entered the animal shelter building just as she’d seen police do on crime shows on TV. Except this was real life. Her life.
The man returned. “I’ve checked all the rooms. There’s no one else inside.” He went over to his vehicle and removed a clipboard. “How are you?”
“Fine.” She willed her hands to stop shaking.
“When did you get here?”
“Uh, around 6:00 PM.” She swallowed hard and answered more questions from the officer.
Jake arrived in a slightly wrinkled dress shirt, sport coat, khakis, and hat and jogged over to them.
The officer studied Jake and his bare feet. The officer didn’t know Jake liked to drive barefoot. It was one of the quirks she’d loved about him. Once. Now, it just irked her. Would it kill Jake to wear some shoes in public?
Carlotta raised her hand. “It’s OK. He’s my husband. I called him after I found the dogs and then Ed, uh, Mr. Gorman.”
The officer stepped toward Jake. “I’m sorry, sir, but I need…”
An athletic blonde, and a tall man with dark hair and kind eyes joined them.
Officer King stepped toward the female. “Detective Krouse.” He handed her a clipboard.
Krouse nodded at King. “It’s OK. Detective Hadley and I will handle the scene from here. For now, you can patrol the perimeter.” The detective wrote on the paper, and then Officer King walked away.
“Thank you.” Jake stepped forward.
“Uh-uh,” Krouse scolded and tugged on latex gloves. “Sorry, Jake. Today, you get to be a statue. Stay right there.”
So the blonde was on a first-name basis with Carlotta’s husband. Jake did report on a lot that happened in the city; it only made sense. Perhaps her little tinge of jealousy was misplaced. Nevertheless, it bubbled inside. What else didn’t she know about her husband?
“Reporters,” Hadley huffed and then put on some gloves, too.
As the detectives entered the building, an image of the dead dogs flashed in Carlotta’s mind. If it weren’t for the fact she had spent time with the poor creatures, she wouldn’t have been able to recognize them. What sort of monster did something like this? Her chin trembled. She put a hand to her forehead. “What if I hadn’t hit all those red lights on the way here? What if I’d arrived minutes earlier?”
Jake put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “You can’t go there, baby.”
She shivered.
Leaning closer, Jake wrapped his arms around her. “It’ll be OK.”
Carlotta relaxed in her husband’s embrace, something she hadn’t done much of lately.
Minutes later, Detectives Hadley and Krouse walked back outside.
“I’ll need names of everyone who has access to this building.”
Hadley handed her a pen and paper.
“Sure.” Stepping away, Carlotta wrote the names of the owner and other volunteers. She showed the list to the officer and pointed to the one at the top. “Ed Gorman, the victim, owns the facility. I volunteer here.”
“And you’re here at night, alone?” Hadley raised a brow.
Jake shook his head. “I’ve been saying the same thing for years.”
Carlotta cleared her throat and scooted next to Jake. “I volunteer here some evenings and weekends, but some animals get lonely at night. I like to check on them, especially the new ones.” That and it helped her forget her own pain. Her sister, sisters-in-law, and cousins could churn out children faster than a jai alai ball being hurled from a cesta, and she couldn’t even give birth to one.
Jake wrapped his arm around her.
“Did the shelter have any enemies?” Krouse asked. “Receive any hate mail?”
“Hate mail? No. Everyone liked Ed.” Especially her sister. How would Rosario take the news?
Jake raised an index finger. “Not everyone.”
If looks could kill, Jake ought to be ten feet under from her stare.
Jake shrugged and stared at Carlotta. “What?” He faced Krouse. “Carlotta’s estranged brother-in-law, Pablo Martinez, served in the Army. Drug addict. After her sister separated from Pablo, he caught her having coffee with Ed. They were just being friendly, but Pablo got jealous.”
Carlotta gasped. Then again, he was telling the truth. I shouldn’t be so hard on him. He’s only trying to help.
“Pablo thought of Ed as a hippie, the draft dodger-type.”
The burnt flag in Ed’s office. Could Pablo have done this?
Krouse cleared her throat and shifted closer to Jake. “What about that group? Um, Jake, who were the activists you reported on last year?”
“The APCC, Animal Protection Confederation of Cincinnati. Yeah, they frown on no-kills.”
Carlotta rubbed her chin. “Wait. Ed received a letter in the mail the other day. He seemed upset about it. It might be on his desk.”
Krouse jogged back inside the building and returned with an envelope.
“Do you keep cash on the premises?” Hadley asked. “I saw a broken lockbox.”
“We keep medicines in there,” Carlotta said.
“What sort of medications?”
“Sedatives, painkillers…oh, and hypodermic needles.” The shelter was already under-funded and with Ed dead, could it recover from such a mess? She could offer to volunteer more of her time. And maybe she could convince Jake to donate to the shelter, foster a few animals to help to defray costs, or pen a human-interest story to help raise awareness. Surely, they could help more in some way.
Hadley rubbed his chin. “Cash and drugs. Those are solid motives. You may leave now, ma’am. We’ll contact you later if needed.”
Carlotta went to her car. She could discuss her ideas to help the animal shelter over dinner.
Jake opened his mouth and then stopped short.
“What is it?”
“This kid at work. He lives for conspiracy theories. This will get him all fired up about the triad. I’ll have to hear about it for days.” Jake rolled his eyes.
“The triad?”
Jake positioned his arm around her, but she wiggled from his hold and stepped toward her car. “The McDonald Triad. It details three characteristics of psychopaths.”
“What does that have to do with the animal shelter?”
“Nothing at all. Nice kid, but paranoid. Kind of like my Uncle Larry.”
Carlotta pointed her key fob at her car.
His hand touched hers. “Leave your car here. We can get it tomorrow.”
She followed him. “Why can’t I drive it home?”
Jake opened her door. “Because we have dinner reservations.”
Carlotta rubbed her arms. The temperature had dipped down a bit since earlier in the day. “Dinner? Tonight? Maybe we could call and order take out instead, considering all that just happened.”
“We really need to…” Jake sighed and took a deep breath. “It’s fine. We can go out later this week. I rented a movie from one of those machines. Picked up the romantic comedy you’ve been talking about for weeks. We can have a nice quiet evening, well, what’s left of it, at least.”
Carlotta trembled.
Jake removed his coat and wrapped it around her. But a coldness lingered, and it had nothing to do with the weather and more with the storm brewing in their relationship. He walked her to her car, like a parent leading a child. At times, a comforting gesture, at others times, controlling. But, that was just his way. He was a take charge kind of guy.
A furry object scurried under Jake’s vehicle. “Meow.”
“Did you see that?” Carlotta asked.
Jake nodded and bent down. “Gotcha.”
