Buried Secrets Can Be Murder: Charlie Parker Mysteries, Book #14 (The Charlie Parker Mysteries) (9 page)

“Was it snowing when you went out?”

I shook my head.

“Well, it happened at some point.”

“Really? Oh, yay!” Like a kid, I jumped up and ran to the front window. Sure enough, a coating of white blanketed the streets. It probably amounted to two inches, but it was enough to put me in the spirit.

Freckles caught my excitement and leaped around me until I nearly tripped over her. I scrambled to the bedroom for warm clothing and bundled into my coat and gloves.

“Aren’t you joining us?” I asked Victoria as the dog danced near the kitchen door.

“I’d better stay in here and mind the breakfast.” She pointed toward the oven from where, now that I noticed, the heavenly scent of cinnamon and vanilla emanated. “Remember? Elsa said she would be over this morning?”

Truthfully, I had spaced out most of the plans we’d made, once I saw the new snow. I stepped outside. The sky was a clear, deep blue and the air was crisp with that dry cold that speaks of single-digit temperatures. Freckles tore across the yard, raced back, snuffled at the snowy lawn. I tried to make a snowball but found the white stuff too dry to cling very well. I tossed the handful of powder at the dog and she tried to nip at it in midair as it flew around her head in a misty cloud.

We kept this up until we’d pretty much worn the pretty snow down to the barren winter lawn beneath. I heard voices behind me and realized that Elsa had come from next door and was talking to Victoria at the back door. I beat my gloves together to get rid of the snow and brushed it from the dog’s coat as well.

Inside, the kitchen table was set with some of my mother’s pretty dishes and a teapot sat in the middle of the table, wrapped in its little cozy. Cinnamon rolls and Elsa’s blueberry muffins waited in a basket, everything ready for me to get out of my snowy clothes and join the group. Before I could get to the table the phone rang.

“Sally wanted me to let you know,” Ross said. “She’s in labor. We’re heading for the hospital now.”

Unless I could actually be of help, which was certainly not a possibility, I told him I would come by the hospital once he let me know the baby had arrived. I passed the news to my little brunch group and we speculated whether they would give the baby a Christmas name.

“If it was a boy,” Elsa said, “he could be Nick.”

“Well, hopefully not Saint Nick,” Victoria joked.

“And if it’s a girl, maybe Saint Nicola?” I suggested.

The ideas became sillier all the time, with regular names like Noelle and Christiana taking a back seat to
Rudolpha
and
Frostina
.” Soon we were laughing like crazy loons.

When the phone rang again, I picked it up in mid-laugh.

“Well, it sounds like you’re having a good old time,” Ron’s voice said. He didn’t sound very merry at all. No wonder. “Is Victoria there with you?”

I handed her the receiver and wandered into the living room while she chatted with Ron. Hearing their loving voices made me miss Drake all the more. Elsa came up beside me just in time to catch me dabbing at my eye.

“He’ll be home soon, sweetie,” she said.

I draped my arm around her narrow shoulders. “My life got so much better once he was in it. I can’t imagine being without him now.”

She smiled up at me. “I’m glad you two found each other.”

“Ron’s got a flight.” Victoria bustled through the doorway, a little breathless. “He’ll be here by early afternoon.”

The portable phone rang in her hand and she answered it, then realized it would be for me.

“Charlie? Ross again. Just wanted to let you know not to come out. The roads are a mess. We were nearly in an accident.”

“Are you both okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Sally’s in a room, getting checked over I guess.”

I sent them both a hug and good wishes. Then I turned to Victoria. “Ross advises against going out.”

This was so typical. Albuquerque gets snow so seldom that no one here learns how to drive on it. Even a couple of inches throws the whole city into chaos. And I could imagine that it wouldn’t be easy getting the necessary road crews to work on a holiday.

“I’m going to hold onto the thought that it will be better by noon.”

“Turn on the TV and see what they’re reporting,” Elsa suggested. But that was like waiting for paint to dry. Most of the channels were running marathon Christmas movies or kid programming; one normally had a noon newscast but that wouldn’t come on for two more hours.

I switched on my computer and found weather reports, but all I really learned was that the storm system had moved eastward and was now sending the Midwest into fits. The New Mexico ski areas seemed happy, but that was about all I got. We kept glancing out the kitchen window at the outdoor thermometer and watching it creep up one degree at a time.

Elsa decided to go on home around ten, and by noon Victoria was going crazy with the waiting. “I’m heading for the airport,” she said. “It’s warming up a little and the major streets are probably clearer than what we’re seeing around here.”

That much had to be true. Precisely two sets of tire tracks cut through the snow on the street in front of the house.

“Take my Jeep,” I told her. I walked out and gave her a quick primer on what to expect from the four-wheel drive. Then I watched her, a little nervously I admit, as she pulled away.

Back in the house my cell phone was blinking with a message. I’d missed Drake’s call by only moments. He said he would be dropping a few final bales of hay, tidying up some loose ends and heading home by four. He should be here by dark.

I called him back to warn him about the streets. It could well be that the most dangerous part of his trip would be the drive from Double Eagle, the airport on the west side. At least he was getting closer with each passing hour.

Chapter 9

Time dragged. I called Victoria’s cell to let her know that with the menfolk home again we could do the big holiday dinner tonight. Then I washed the dishes, tidied the house, changed the sheets, and put the turkey in the oven. That took all of thirty minutes so I set the table. I paced and watched the clock. Walked the dog down to the park and back, looked at the clock some more. This was ridiculous.

I flipped through that silly tabloid I’d bought at the supermarket, flipping past a blatantly ridiculous article on how aliens from the planet
Zeroid
had kidnapped three children and taken them to the North Pole where they claimed to have met Santa’s elves. The center spread was the headline piece about the criminals who’d gotten away with murder and a mug shot of a woman caught my eye. This one had been in all the headlines a few years ago, a mother accused of killing her two children. I’d just read the first paragraph when I heard a vehicle in the driveway. The newspaper dropped to the floor and I raced to the front door, hoping Drake would be the first of the group to arrive.

My Jeep sat in its usual spot, with three doors opening simultaneously. Ron, Victoria and . . . a stranger? The man was close to my brother’s size and build, a little portly in the middle, with thick gray hair and the kind of lines on his face that spoke of a no-nonsense life. He wore gray slacks and an all-weather jacket. I watched as they transferred Ron’s carry-on bag and something else to the back of Vic’s car, then the three of them walked up to the porch, stomping their feet to get rid of the snow which I probably should have swept away while they were gone. Freckles raced out the door the instant I opened it.

“Safe and sound,” Victoria said, beaming.

“Hey, little sis,” Ron said. He turned to the man. “Chet, this is my sister, Charlie. Charlie, Chester Flowers.”

I took the hand he offered and ushered everyone indoors.

“Thanks for putting me in touch with Ron yesterday,” Flowers said. “I worked on a case with your brother a few years ago, up in Seattle. I was with the Seattle PD. Retired now, taking on a few private cases.” He had a careworn face with deeply etched lines, the kind of countenance that showed a life of worry and diligence.

“When Chet told me about the case he’s working now, I suggested he come to Albuquerque,” Ron said. He sniffed the air. “Something sure smells good.”

By now they’d all shed their coats and I told them the good news that Drake would be here soon so we could have our big holiday dinner.

“Maybe we can find some drinks for everyone,” Ron said to me, with a twitch of his head toward the kitchen.

I turned up the gas logs for a little additional ambiance and followed him.

“How’s Rosa?” I asked. “I assume you got her on a flight before you left?”

“Her moods were up and down the whole time. Hard for her, getting the news about Ivana when there’s so little time left.”

“Sad situation,” I said, locating some crackers to go with a smoky cheese spread that I had stashed in the fridge.

“Yeah, it is.”

“So . . .” I tilted my head toward the living room. “Your old buddy?”

“He’s working a cold case that intrigued me. It was very high profile a few years ago,” Ron said as he reached into the cupboard above the fridge for his special bottle of Scotch. “He’ll fill you in on the details, but basically it boils down to his wanting our help with it.”

I could tell by the gleam in his eyes that he really wanted to do this.

“But, he comes from Seattle. Why would
we
be working the case?”

“Several of his most promising leads brought him here. He’ll have to get back to the northwest in a couple days but he wants someone local to follow up here in New Mexico. What do you think?” He pulled two heavy crystal glasses from another cupboard.

“I think . . . sure, whatever you want.”

Ron has so seldom heard those words come from me that he didn’t realize he’d made his case. “It could bring us a real boost in business. This case was huge. That woman, Tali Donovan, who was tried for killing her two kids and then acquitted. The bodies of the children were never found and that’s a lot of what caused the ‘reasonable doubt’ in the verdict.”

“Ron, I said yes.”

“Chet’s convinced she was guilty and he’s putting together the evidence.”

I waved my hand in front of his face. “Earth to Ron. I said yes. We should do it.”

Aside from all of his reasons, I felt my pulse quicken a little. Wasn’t this the case I’d just seen written up in
The Scoop
?

“Good. We’ll go over it all. He can bring both of us up to speed on it.” He poured Scotch into the two glasses and threw in a few ice cubes.

“But not right this minute. It’s Christmas.”

In answer to that statement, a small commotion erupted in the living room. The dog woofed a couple of times and voices came through. I hurried through the swinging door toward the sounds.

Drake was standing near the front door, trying to shrug off the jacket he wore over his flight suit, while Freckles danced around his legs. My heart thumped just a little harder and I rushed into his arms with a complete lack of self-consciousness.

“Hey you,” he whispered. “Feels so good to be home.”

I dittoed that.

Ron introduced Chet and offered to get Drake a glass of what they were having. He begged off for the moment, wanting to shower off the smell of work and get into more comfortable clothing. When he left the room, the other two men sank into the overstuffed chairs near the fire. Victoria offered to take over in the kitchen. I found myself standing near the sofa without any tasks for the moment.

“Ron told me about your request for us to work with you,” I said to Flowers, as I took a seat on the couch. “Tell me more about it.”

“Every retired detective has an unsolved case that bothers him. For me it was Tali Donovan’s two missing kids. That verdict
still
eats me up.” His vivid blue eyes met mine and I saw the old anguish. “We can go into the details later. I worked the case from day one, when the two children went missing. We always liked Tali Donovan for the crime, but it was hard to put together conclusive evidence. Most of what we had was circumstantial. The prosecutor’s office got in a hurry because the media was all over it and everybody in the country wanted to see this lady hang. Frankly, they took it to trial too soon and couldn’t make their case. Everyone seemed shocked when she was acquitted, but I had a feeling about it. My team members and I weren’t surprised at all.”

“But what can you do now?” I asked. “Can she be tried again? Double jeopardy and all that?”

“There’s the possibility of a civil trial, kind of like the Simpson case. Plus, there are other charges that might be brought, even though they won’t carry the severe penalties that a murder one conviction would have.”

“Ron said you’re retired. So . . . you’re working this on your own?”

“There’s an interested party. Boyd Donovan, Tali’s now ex-husband. He’s paying for this investigation.” He sipped from his drink. “But we can get into all that when I give you the full briefing.”

“Chet’s going to stay with Vic and me tonight. Tomorrow we can all meet at the office and go over the files,” Ron said.

From the kitchen I began to notice voices. Elsa must be back. “I better get in there and help with the chores,” I said.

Drake emerged from the bedroom, looking extremely good in a soft green pullover sweater and chinos, his hair damp and his face freshly shaved. I sent a little flicker of longing his way.

In the kitchen, potatoes were bubbling away in a large pot and Victoria was stirring gravy in another. Elsa held up a bowl of cranberry sauce and asked whether I wanted it in the fridge or on the table. Things were moving into place nicely. I added another place setting to the table and basically let momentum take charge of the dinner.

To paraphrase—we came, we ate, we conquered that whole turkey. It took only twenty minutes to decimate the feast that had taken a half-day to prepare. That seemed about normal. Ron seemed beat after the sleepless night in Dallas, so the party broke up soon after the dishes were done.

I turned to my sweetheart and could tell we both had the same idea.

Next thing I knew, the clock struck eleven out in the living room. The guests had long gone and Drake and I had quickly found ourselves in the bedroom making up for the few nights apart. Then we’d opened our gifts and I tried on the lacy red teddy he’d bought for me, and that led us back to the bedroom. The clock barely intruded into my consciousness as I lay with my head against his chest and a sea of warm bedding around me.

“Good Christmas?” he murmured.

“Um, now it is.”

* * *

The room was filled with half-light when I awakened. Beside me, Drake snored softly and peacefully. I slipped out of bed, thinking I would just go to the bathroom and come back. But I found myself mulling over work. Rosa Flores was home with her sister now. I hoped she would find a peaceful reconciliation there, whatever the real story was. Now the thing on my mind was the new case. Ever since Chet Flowers explained the basics of the situation I’d been intrigued. The anniversary of the children’s disappearance and the coverage by
The Scoop
must be nagging like crazy at the devoted detective. I slipped on a pair of sweats and padded to the living room.

Freckles wasn’t about to let me just tippy-toe past. In her mind it was time for breakfast. I let her out, came up with the obligatory nuggets, and started the coffee maker while I was at it. I had to rummage for the tabloid, which I’d tossed aside somewhere in the living room, a space which still held the litter of wrapping paper and bows that we’d never cleaned up.

At the kitchen table I spread it open and poured my first cup of coffee.

Tali Donovan’s eyes stared belligerently at the camera in her mug shot. The pudgy face was framed by stringy brown hair and she had dark circles under her eyes. No wonder; the jail-issue orange jumpsuit is no woman’s friend, fashion-wise. I reread the story.

Her two children, a three-year-old girl and twenty-one-month-old boy were last seen playing in the family’s back yard, a week before Christmas. Donovan claimed that she’d been with them but had gone in the house to answer the phone, leaving them to play in a pile of raked leaves. When she came back outside they were not there. She claimed she had run out to the yard and found a back gate that led to a wooded area standing open and she saw a man dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt running away. By the time she got to the path, he was gone.

No neighbors witnessed anything and Tali’s story had become a bit muddled as to the timeframe and exactly where she’d seen the strange man. Eventually the jury acquitted her, mainly because the bodies of the children had never been found, despite extensive searches through the surrounding woods by Search and Rescue teams and cadaver dogs. Within two weeks after her acquittal, Tali Donovan left Seattle. Her husband divorced her, and her mother and siblings claimed that they rarely heard from her and didn’t know where she was currently living.

The article quoted Chet Flowers as saying, “We feel certain she did it. You work homicide as long as I did, you have deep instincts about these things.”

I studied the face of the woman again but, as with a word that you repeat over and over, the newness began to fade and I decided she only seemed familiar because I’d remembered her from all the television coverage years ago. I clipped the portion of the page that referred to Donovan and tossed the rest of the paper in the trash.

Drake wandered in, his hair tousled and eyes still looking sleepy. I doctored a mug of coffee according to his preferences and placed it in his hand. He slurped at it appreciatively and caught sight of the clipping on the table.

“What’s that about?”

I quickly gave the rundown on the new case and the plan to spend the next couple of days in the office with Chet Flowers.

“And here I thought you’d be at the mall, snapping up all those after-Christmas bargains,” he teased. He knew better than that. “Well, I will be at the airport, doing a hundred-hour on the ship and making sure she’s ready in case I get another call on a moment’s notice.”

“Breakfast?” I offered half-heartedly, since I still felt full from last night’s big dinner.

He poked around in the packages that had become stacked up in one corner of the countertop and came up with one of Elsa’s blueberry muffins.

“This’ll do,” he said as he bit into it. Crumbs scattered like snowflakes and Freckles went a little nuts, licking them from the floor.

“I’m going to leave you to it,” I said.

I showered and dressed in my standard work attire of jeans and a sweater. Twenty minutes later I was at the office, letting my computer boot up while I started a pot of coffee down in the kitchen.

While it brewed, I keyed in a search for “
tali
donovan
murder trial” and came up with a few thousand hits. I started with the most recent articles and read backward. The newest material basically reiterated what the tabloid had printed; that ill-regarded paper obviously had done no homework other than borrowing whole paragraphs from the Seattle newspapers. As Chet Flowers had told us, Donovan had been acquitted of the crime mainly because the bodies of the children were never found. The press must have given her no peace at all, and public sentiment generally went against her in every way. The fact that her husband didn’t stick around afterward also added fuel to the fire of speculation. Shortly after the verdict she’d gone into hiding.