A Killing Tide (14 page)

"Yesss." Lucy pumped her fist in the air and reached for her cell phone. "Ivar? Listen up: Pull the concrete and mud samples from under the bridge. Make them top priority. And meet me there in a half hour." She hung up. "You know what this means, right?"

Kaz nodded. "If Ken was killed by the bridge, Gary couldn't have done it—he didn't have enough time. The murder scene is on the other end of town from the
Anna Marie."

"Exactly." Lucy gnawed on her lower lip. "So we see if we can link the mud and concrete from the bridge to the samples from the autopsy. If it's a match, we're one step closer to proving Gary didn't do it. But we'll need more than that to convince Sykes." She took another bite of pizza. "How're you holding up?"

Kaz put her slice down, reality sinking back in. And with that, the gnawing sense of desperation that she'd been feeling all day long. "Gary's holed up somewhere, Luce, and I can't figure out why. If he didn't do this, then someone may have been trying to kill
him,
not Ken. And so far, I'm doing a damn poor job of helping him."

"My guess is that if he needs help, he knows where to find it. Gary's got people all over who'll help him and keep quiet about it."

"Julie Lundquist told me that no one but Ken was willing to crew for him anymore, and the guys at the marina indicated pretty much the same."

"That's pure bunk. And Gary's got buddies from the military in several of the neighboring towns. The fishermen may not be real happy with him right now, but I think that's related to what's going on."

Kaz's panic subsided a little. Lucy was right—Gary knew several vets who lived up in the hills, which meant he had access to supplies for as long as he needed to hide out. Long enough for Kaz to ferret out who could've done this. She should've realized that herself, which was one more sign she wasn't firing on all cylinders. If she could get some sleep and then keep digging for answers—

Lucy gave her a scowl. "I do
not
like the look on your face. You need to take a step back and let me handle this."

Kaz kept silent.

"I mean it," Lucy insisted. "I need to conduct the investigation by the book—it's Gary's best hope of coming out of this cleared of any wrongdoing." She pointed a finger smudged with tomato sauce at Kaz. "And you need to quit letting guilt about what happened fifteen years ago color your judgment."

Kaz shook her head. "Gary hasn't had the breaks I've had. And I haven't been here for him."

Lucy snorted. "He got himself into this, he can get himself back out. I was wrong to ever make that phone call to you."

"You know he won't last even one night in jail."

"He should've thought of that before now. Hell, he should've thought about that six months ago when he punched out Svensen for dissing Ken."

"Do you think the two incidents are related?"

Lucy looked thoughtful, then shook her head. "…nah. How could they be? Too much elapsed time." Her expression became grim. "I saw the photos from the fire."

Kaz's stomach clenched. "Did you say anything to Michael Chapman?"

"I've managed to avoid him for the last couple of hours."

Abandoning any pretense of eating, Kaz kicked back from the table, staring out the window at the garden that Gary had maintained for her all these years, which now looked bedraggled in the late winter rains. "Chapman's all but convinced Gary did it—he's just looking for evidence to convict, at this point."

"Yeah." Lucy sighed. "That was my impression, too. He thinks you're withholding evidence from him. Are you?"

Kaz hesitated, then shrugged. "Nothing important."

"If you know
anything,
you should tell us." When she didn't respond, Lucy glared at her. "I don't believe this—you're keeping
me
in the dark? You won't let me help?"

"Chapman outranks you—"

"Like that's ever stopped me before. That guy gets in my way, I'll mow him down."

Kaz chuckled and held the cold beer bottle against her forehead, trying to ease her headache. "This is where I'm supposed to be grateful you're armed and have poor impulse control, right?"

"Hey, that's why I joined the force. I figure if I lose it and shoot someone, they probably had it coming."

"Just as long as the person you shoot isn't my brother."

Lucy sobered. "You know I wouldn't do that. I could never hurt Gary."

Kaz studied her friend's face, seeing the truth there. She'd always wondered, in the back of her mind, whether Lucy had a thing for her brother. But if she did, she'd kept it well hidden over the years. Which wouldn't exactly be in character.

Lucy wiped her hands with a paper towel and picked up her beer. "We executed a search warrant at the Lundquists' today. God! That was hard."

Kaz frowned. "What were you looking for?"

"Anything related to the crime—it was a general warrant. The place was a mess. I thought Julie usually kept it pretty neat and clean."

"She does. Someone tossed it."

"What?"

Kaz shifted in her chair, realizing what she'd given away. "I went up there earlier, to pay my respects—"

"And to pry information out of the poor woman."

"—right. And she told me she'd been burgled. Wouldn't let me call you or help clean up. What are the chances of a burglary—"

"Happening coincidentally the day after Ken was killed?" Lucy shook her head. "Slim to none."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I wonder what they were after."

Lucy picked up another piece of pizza and contemplated it. "Do you think Gary broke in and had a look around?"

"I hope not." Kaz considered, then shook her head. "I don't think so."

"So," Lucy mused, chewing slowly. "What could Ken have that someone would want? Something small enough they'd tear apart the house looking for it? Shit. This case gets weirder by the hour."

Kaz stood up and got them another beer. Beer seemed to be all her stomach was accepting without staging a rebellion. At this rate, she'd be on Pabulum with alcohol chasers by morning.

"What's your take on Chapman so far?" Lucy dug into her third slice of pizza, obviously having no such problems.

Kaz hesitated. "Why are you asking me?"

"Hell.
Ivar is right—you two have a thing going."

"We do not! Chapman's too stubborn and overbearing and—"

"Sexy?" Lucy leaned forward, dropping her pizza. "Please tell me you are
not
interested in this guy."

"It's just chemistry. No big deal."

"I'm serious. We don't know jack about him, except that he lost it on some arson investigation back East. Well, okay, and that he's related to the Boston Police Commissioner."

"Whoa." Kaz took a moment to absorb that little factoid. "You told me he was an arson investigator. You didn't say anything about him being associated with the police."

"He isn't. But the latest info that's floating around on him is that the police commissioner was his guardian during his formative years. His parents were killed in a car crash, or something, and the commissioner was a family friend who stepped in to keep him and his brothers out of foster homes."

"Where do you
hear
this stuff?"

Lucy shrugged. "Ivar told me, and he heard it from somebody on the force, who probably heard it from someone in the Mayor's office…you know how this shit gets around."

"So Gary and I are up against an experienced arson investigator who just happens to have deep ties to law enforcement." Kaz shook her head, closing her eyes as depression settled over her like a wet bank of fog. "Just shoot me now."

"The point being," Lucy continued in a stern tone, "that it wouldn't be smart to get involved with Chapman right now, or even—speaking from a purely one-night-stand-no-attachments point of view—jump his bones." She twisted the cap off her beer and lobbed it into the trash. "Not, mind you, that he doesn't have very nice bones. And not that you'd ever be practical enough to consider sex as a recreational sport instead of the first step toward Happily Ever After."

"Phil would argue that my failure to commit was the reason we broke up," Kaz pointed out, experiencing the twinge of guilt and sadness that surfaced whenever she thought her ex-boyfriend. "I'd say that makes me commitment-phobic, not the other way around."

"Yeah? Well, Phil's a twit. A good lawyer, maybe, but definitely a twit."

A laugh sputtered out of Kaz. "Come on. He's a nice guy."

Lucy just snorted. "Chapman's definitely
not
a twit, but until we have a chance to see how this guy really handles himself…" She gave Kaz a reprimanding look.

"Okay," Kaz admitted. "So I looked a little more closely at Michael Chapman than usual, but that's all. I'm not dead, but I'm also not crazy."

"Since when?" Lucy shot back, then harrumphed. "So tell me what you really think of him."

Kaz took a moment to think about it. "He doesn't know the people involved," she mused, "so it's easy for him to think that Gary's the obvious suspect. Whether he'll keep digging if there are unanswered questions…" she waggled her hand to indicate that she thought he might go either way. "For some reason, my gut is telling me that he's honorable, that he'll work to find out the truth. But you know how good my instincts are when it comes to men."

"The track record from hell."

"Hey."

"Well, it's not like any of those 'suits' you dated down south—including Phil—had any redeeming qualities, other than their ability to pay for tickets to the symphony."

"Oh, come on."

"And, of course, you've been deluded for the last ten years as to what constitutes quality of life," Lucy added, "or else you wouldn't have even stayed down in La-La Land.

"Nice to know you have such a high opinion of me and my chosen life style," Kaz said, her tone dry.

"Prior
chosen life style. Now that you're back, I don't see you packing your bags and heading back any time soon. Am I right?"

At the moment, Kaz couldn't even think about a permanent move back home. It was a decision she had no idea how to make, or even when she would be able to make it. Her partner was doing a good job so far of handling the business issues that had cropped up, but sooner or later, she'd have to go back. Even if she'd noticed since coming home that it felt right, somehow, to be here, she couldn't take the time to sort it all out.

Oblivious to Kaz's inner turmoil, Lucy rolled right on, her expression turning more business-like. "I'll keep an eye on Chapman. But stay away from him, and let me handle him."

"That won't be easy. He thinks he can get to Gary by following me around."

"Gee, I'd say the man isn't dumb. You
do
know where Gary is, right?"

Kaz hesitated. "Maybe."

"If I were Gary," Lucy mused, "I'd head for the high country around Saddleback Mountain. He's camped in that area for years, and he knows how to lose himself up there. And up near the peak, it's damn near vertical, which would discourage all but seasoned climbers from following him." When Kaz didn't say anything, Lucy nodded and stood up, closing the pizza box and carrying it over to the door. "Try not to get shot at again while you're in my Jeep. It isn't paid off yet."

"Thanks for the pizza and conversation," Kaz said, meaning it.

"Yeah, I can tell you were wild about the pizza." Lucy shook her head. "Let's just get through this, so we can get back to our nightly pool game. I'm starting to go into withdrawal."

#

Later that evening, Kaz's phone rang for the umpteenth time that day. She'd already taken a long bath and finished her third beer, which had gone straight to her head. Miles Davis was playing "Kind of Blue" in the background, and she was stringing her seventh crab pot while she tried to formulate her strategy for the next day. She was beyond exhausted, but still jumping out of her skin. She glared at the phone, ignoring it.

It rang again.

"Dammit!" It was probably another hang-up. But whoever it was, they weren't giving up—the phone continued to ring shrilly.

Sighing, she dropped the spool of steel mesh wire inside the crab pot's iron frame, then stood and started hunting for the portable in the mess of newspapers and printouts on the coffee table. On the eighth ring, she unearthed the unit and punched the little green button.

"Yes, hello."

There was no sound on the other end, except for someone breathing. After a long moment, she heard a click, and then a dial tone.

Suddenly uneasy, she carefully placed the phone on the coffee table and backed away from it.

~~~~

Chapter 12

Downtown at Astoria's main fire station, Michael tossed his pencil on top of his notes and sketches relating to the investigation. He reached down to pet Zeke, who snored peacefully from his favorite place under the desk.