An Intimate Murder (The Catherine O'Brien Series) (29 page)

“You had no right to print that story, without running it by either Louise or me.”

Her features smoothed with dawning.

“Ah!”

She made no move to explain herself. Instead, she took a seat, slung her purse up onto her lap, opened the flap, and dug through the contents like a mole burying into the ground. This disregard was more infuriating to me than if she had decided to deny my accusation.

“Well?” I demanded.

She looked up, hands still tucked into her purse. “Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to argue with me?”

She considered the question for a moment, and then shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wouldn’t make any difference. I’m sick of fighting with you. I’m going to do my job and your opinion doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

I grunted and turned to Louise. She shrugged, then held her hands palm out, as if trying to push me away.

I wasn’t prepared to give up so easily. “Do you deny that you broke our deal?”

Jane finally located what she was looking for in the bottom of her purse, a tube of
ChapStick
. She pulled off the cap and circled her lips in an exaggerated ‘O’. When she had slathered enough wax on them to buff out a Buick, she rubbed her lips together and recapped the tube.

“I do,” she said, and dropped the
ChapStick
back into the chasm of her bag. She folded her hands over the zipper of her purse, and then looked at me.

I opened my eyes wider, crossed my arms over my chest, and waited. After a few moments, Jane let out a heavy sigh. She set her purse on the floor at her feet.

“Your attack had nothing to do with the Luther murder investigation. I was not obligated to ask your permission to run the story. Since the department didn’t issue a press release, I had an exclusive I couldn’t pass up.”

“She’s correct,” Louise said. “It’s a separate case. Jane had every right to run the story.”

“Did she have the right to invade my privacy? Did she have the right to cause my family undo anxiety? Again.”

Louise shrugged. Digs stared at her with the same disbelief I felt, unusual only because Digs would take any opportunity he could to agree with Louise.

“I am sorry,” Jane said. “But you two have essentially tied my hands. Journalism is more competitive than you know. You have to keep your name in print or your editor forgets who you are when you pass in the hallway.”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“Oh, he remembers your face, but he’s pretty sure you’re in the obituary department. So, I had two choices.”

She held up her index finger.

“I could give up on the Luther case and move on to the next story.”

Her middle finger popped up next to her index finger in a peace sign.

“Or I could trust my instincts, stick with the story, and hope for the best. The journalistic equivalent of career suicide.”

Jane pinched her second choice between the thumb and forefinger of her other hand.

“That’s what I did. What I am doing, trusting my instincts. Each day that passes without some huge revelation to publish, my boss thinks that me being here is a bad idea, and that maybe my time could be better spent elsewhere. So, when a huge story, which could buy me a little more time with my editor, drops into my lap, I won’t turn my back and pretend I didn’t see. You called the tune, I just joined the dance.”

My anger mixed with guilt. Then shame washed over me at my selfishness.

“I am sorry,” Jane said again. “If I caused your family anxiety, I
am
sorry.”

She meant it.

The sassy voice in my head scolded me with a sharp,
what’s your next move slick
?

I considered the question for a moment. The anger I felt in my chest eased, then rippled away.

“Just my mother,” I said. “She’s in a constant state of anxiety over what I do for a living anyway.”

Louise, who had never met my mother, but had the opportunity to speak with her on the telephone on several occasions, laughed and nodded.

“How about we come to an understanding; if I happen to get my ass kicked, again during the time that you’re with us –"

A low volley of giggles ran through my audience.

“And you decided to publish a story about said ass-kicking, you will give me a heads up so I can call my mother in advance, and let her know that I’m alright.”

Jane stood and stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

We shook to seal our pact, which seemed to alleviate the tension all around. Except for Digs who looked at Jane as if she’d been caught kicking his dog.

“Where are we in the Luther investigation?” Jane asked.

I eased into my chair, and pressed my shoulders back. The upper back muscles twitched while I stretched. That was the trouble with adrenaline, it didn’t last long enough.

“Personally, I think it’s time to sit down and brainstorm. Play a little follow the money, and see where it leads us.”

“Good idea,” Louise said. “Unless Digs has some new revelation.”

“No,” he said and shook his head. “I guess I was working on Bob’s case.”

He sulked out of the bullpen.

“Let’s go have coffee.” I pushed the donuts away from me. “Fresh pastries with good coffee so we’ll have plenty of brain juice working for us.”

Louise and Jane agreed. On our way out of the office, Bob Shackelford stopped me.

“Just wanted to let you know a uniform just picked up Katie Dolan. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

I gave him a quick thumbs-up and left.

Ten minutes later Louise, Jane, and I slid into a booth at the Day By Day Café. The atmosphere of the Day By Day makes me happy. Plastic figures of Scooby-Doo, Smurfs, Batman, and other cartoon characters perch on shelves that run around the entire restaurant. The figures reminded me of when I was a kid, like a
McDonald’s
play land for adults.

“It’s funny,” Jane said. “I’ve lived in Saint Paul all my life and I’ve never been in this restaurant before.”

“Best breakfast you’ll ever have,” I said. “Their toast is made with homemade bread. It reminds me of my Grandma’s house.”

That and you could actually get a fried egg and hash browns, instead of egg substitute and tofu browns. Lately many of my favorite haunts in the downtown area had gone health-food-chic. As Hank, the three hundred fifty pound operator of my former, favorite, breakfast hang out so aptly put it, “I gotta keep up with the time no matter how repulsive I find what I’m feeding the mindless masses.” He finally confessed after I grilled him further that he eats at home these days.

The Day By Day was also one of the only places you could get a decent cup of coffee, without paying primo prices. Just a plain cup of java but the staff of the Day By Day knew how to make plain Joe sing.

A pretty, young woman who wore black rimmed glasses (which looked like they belonged on the miniature face of a three year old), and multi-colored, dread locks, approached our table with an order pad. She’d piled the dreads into elastic at the back of her head so the colorful ropes of hair fanned out in a corona around her head.

A flicker of surprise ran through me when I noticed that the rest of her outfit didn’t match her face and hair. She wore khakis and a non-descript, black T-shirt. It looked like some creative child had removed modern art Barbie’s head, and stuck it on Yuppie Barbie’s body.

The girl took our order and then left to retrieve our coffee.

“Alright, who do we think did it,” I said.

Louise unrolled her silverware from the paper napkin and laid them out on the table.

“We have to put Katie Dolan at the top of the list considering what she did to you yesterday.”

I grimaced.

Jane caught Louise’s meaning immediately.

“You know for sure that Katie Dolan attacked you?”

I gave Louise a sharp, hard, look.

“Oh, what,” Louise said. “I didn’t give anything away. Thanks to Jane’s story yesterday the department is probably already overrun with other reporters asking questions. The Chief will have to issue a statement identifying your attacker and stating that she’s in custody.”

Jane’s excitement dissipated at the realization that she no longer had the exclusive. Too bad the local papers didn’t run multiple issues per day anymore. She might have been able to scoop everyone before Chief issued a report this afternoon.

“Okay, so we have Katie Dolan,” I said and riffled through my purse. “Does anyone have paper?”

Jane laid the notebook she’d been using throughout the investigation on the table, and then slid it toward me.

“Thanks,” I said. “Who else do we have?”

“Put that V guy on the list.” Jane shivered and stuck out her tongue. “He really creeped me out.”

I motioned for Jane’s pen. If we had to wait for me to find something to write with in the bottom of my diaper bag of a purse, we’d be here until long after breakfast.

“We can’t just put Vincent on the list because you don’t like him.”

“Sure you can,” she said. “It’s my notebook. I want him on the list.”

I found a clean page, scratched Katie Dolan’s name on the top line, then reluctantly a V on the second line. Jane nodded her approval.

“Linda and Jack Myers are players in this somehow.” Louise’s face was contemplative. Despite our juvenile behavior, she was undistracted, as serious, and professional, as she had ever been. “And as much as I hate to say it, Chad is still a suspect.”

“Really?” I wrote the names on the page. “I’m not so sure about Chad.”

Our waitress returned balancing a circular, brown tray with coffee cups, and a gold thermal pot. She set a cup at each place, filled them, set the pot between the three of us, and then left to flirt with a table of young men dressed in paint stained overalls.

“Chad was the first person to find his parents,” Louise’s tone was no bullshit. “There’s no evidence to rule him out yet.”

“He has an alibi,” Jane said.

“From a drug dealing, burn out.” I drew in a deep whiff of my coffee. “Not exactly a model citizen. A good attorney could tear that alibi apart in ten seconds of fast talking. Anyway, if Chad has an alibi, then so does V and we’d have to remove him from our list.”

Jane shrugged and took a pull from her coffee, grimaced, then reached across Louise for the small dish of cream near the wall.

The cell phone clipped in a sling to the outside of Louise’s purse began to chime. She flipped it open and looked at the caller ID.

“It’s the office,” she said. “Detective Montgomery.”

She listened for a few seconds then said, “We’re on our way.”

Louise tucked the phone back into its case.

“Looks like breakfast will have to wait.”

“Why?” I asked and gazed longingly at my coffee. “What’s happened?”

“Chad Luther has been attacked.”

She pulled two twenties and a ten from her purse and tossed them on the table. More than enough to pay for the breakfast we wouldn’t eat and a generous tip.

I drank my coffee in one long swallow and felt the burn all the way down to my stomach.

The three of us piled out of the booth like the building was on fire, and headed for the door. Our waitress looked distressed.

“Sorry,” I said and showed her my badge. “We have to go. There’s money on the table.”

She gave a hesitant half smile and then nodded. “Have a great day.”

Squad cars blocked the parking lot of Chad Luther’s dorm. A red and blue glow from the squad’s lights, strobed off the windows of the brick buildings, and lit up the common with a dance floor glimmer. The uniformed officers had blocked the entire common, so we parked on the street.

“Big time overkill for an assault,” I said.

“I guess they’re not taking any chances after what happened to his parents.” Louise showed her badge to the officers at the steps and signed us in.

She was probably right, but it still seemed like more firepower than needed to protect one kid
after
the fact. One or two squads parked out front would have been sufficient.

A buzz of activity greeted us when we reached Chad’s ground floor dorm room.

“What happened?” I badged the officer keeping gawkers at bay.

He winced when he focused on my face. “Someone busted out the kid’s window and jumped him when he entered the room.”

I glanced down at my watch. “This morning?”

He nodded.

“Is he hurt?” Louise asked.

“Rabbit scared, but he doesn’t look too damaged.”

We nodded our appreciation and stepped into the crowded dorm room.

“Well it’s about time you arrived.” Linda Myers stood near the window at the far end of the room with her hands on her hips. “Are you satisfied? I tried to warn you she’d do something like this.”