Between the Lies (Book One - The Northern Lights Series) (21 page)

While I waited for Harper to contact her guy, I unpacked the box of old mail Lloyd had saved.

He’d taped it shut and cut an opening in the top where he could stick new stuff into it quickly. The man was honest and efficient. It reminded me of my boxes for Valentine’s Day in elementary school. We’d each bring in a shoe box and wrapping paper, cut-out hearts, and glitter and then write our names boldly on the end. I never had a box, since my shoes were second hand. My teachers knew and there was always one on my desk. On the day of the party, we lined them up on a table and stuffed them with the cards we’d filled out at home the night before.

Most years, my teachers would slip me a box of cards to give away he or she had purchased. I resented being a charity case but hated being without the cards more. Every year I overcame my pride and signed the back of each and carefully wrote the names of my classmates on the envelopes. We had Room Mothers in those days who brought in treats and led us in goofy games where somehow everyone was a winner.

I remembered one boy in the fourth grade had signed his card, “Love, Brad.” I thought it was gross. When he walked me home and tried to kiss me, I kicked him hard in the shins. He asked for his Valentine back. I was happy to oblige him. I tore it up and threw it at him. Good riddance.

On my walk down Memory Lane, I’d carefully cut the taped sides of the box of mail with a steak knife. The smell of Winston cigarettes, coffee, and old food attacked my nostrils. It was as if I was back in the trailer eating sauerkraut and sausage while Ma smoked as if it were an Olympic event and started in on her evening pot of coffee. She was both a three pack a day smoker and a three pot a day drinker.

Not willing to start reading right away, I organized the envelopes by the date on the postmarks. A few had the words
Do Not Bend – Photos Enclosed
in capital letters across the bottom. A few were the size of birthday cards. Most of them were regular-sized, plain white, and I knew the paper would be the inexpensive lined tablets Ma could buy for under a dollar at Ben Franklin. As I sorted, I wondered if she’d used her favorite old Bic pens to write. She usually chewed them so badly the little plug things at the top fell out.

When they were in order, I stared at them, wishing they’d vanish. Lloyd, who was on guard duty, walked in and said, “Mrs. Lyons just called and wants us to meet her in her office now. She sounded upset.”

I put the letters back in the box and taped it shut once more. It wasn’t time, but it was getting close. Lloyd picked up the box and said, “I’ll take this with us. I have a feeling it’s better that way.”

We found Michelle standing in the middle of her future office, staring in shock at a hole the size of a tall man in the wall. Where there should have been only studs and a brick wall, there was space.

Her phone rang, startling her. She answered and said, “Harper, get over here now.” After a pause she said, “Yeah, bring your architect.”

Her renovation team waited in the outside office. One of them asked, “Do you need us to stay?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd responded. “Why don’t you guys go get something to drink on me in the coffee shop downstairs. Stay close because I know detective Harper is going to want to talk to you.”

They nodded and headed out the door, slapping their pants to dislodge the white dust that covered them.

Harper arrived in a flurry with Newman and a man dressed in a navy golf shirt with a gold emblem of a drafter’s compass, creased khaki slacks, round wire-rimmed glasses, and expensive-looking loafers.

“This is exactly what I was telling you,” he said. “These old buildings are full of hidden passageways.”

He went right to the wall with Harper. Michelle walked across the debris-filled floor in her heels, looking a little wobbly.

“Are you okay?” Harper asked her.

“No. I’m not sure why, but I find this terribly unsettling.”

Newman gallantly took her elbow. “Why don’t you wait over here, Mrs. Lyons.” He led her to a dusty folding chair by a card table where the guys had the blueprints for the changes she’d requested.

“Why would anyone build hidden passageways into an office building?” she asked.

The architect was delighted to share what he knew with her. “These were used for a variety of reasons, Mrs. Lyons. Depending on the age of the building, they could have been part of the Underground Railroad. I think it’s more likely, because of its proximity to the river and shipping lanes, these could have been used to hide and move bootleg whiskey during Prohibition. It’s also possible they’ve been used to hide and transport other illegal items over the years. There may even be small rooms hidden along the passageways. They were very often cleverly concealed so the missing space wasn’t noticed.”

He faced the hole as he spoke, his yearning to step into the world beyond the wall evident in the gleam in his eye and the rubbing together of his hands. He looked like a man who had hit some kind of pay-dirt.

Michelle shivered and asked, “Is it possible there are the same kind of passageways in the mansion?”

“Oh yes. I believe from the blue- prints I was able to find, there are.” He could barely contain his growing excitement. “I can show you if you’d like.”

“We’d all like a look at them,” Harper said. “For now, we need either permission from the family or a search warrant to investigate further. Mrs. Lyons, what do you suggest?”

Harper’s professional attitude brought Michelle back from her fear. “I’ll call my husband and do what I can to get you the permission you require.”

The architect rocked back and forth on his toes and heels, an activity that bugged me. Then I noticed something. “Where did you buy your shoes?” I asked a little rudely.

He stopped his rocking and said, “I order them from a shoe maker near here.” As he spoke, he got out his wallet and handed me a business card. “The man in your life will love them.”

I had a sick feeling the man trying to end my life already had at least one pair.

“Alan is on his way over. He’d like to see what’s going on before he allows a search. He was in some kind of meeting and said he’s also bringing in a young attorney I might like to mentor,” Michelle said.

I realized Harper and I had moved to stand side-by-side in front of her as a kind of shield from the mess and the others.

“Mentor?” Harper asked.

Michelle nodded.

“Isn’t that his M.O. when he finds a new woman?” Harper asked me in a whisper.

“Yes, but he’s never asked me to mentor one of them before,” Michelle whispered back.

No, but he’d allowed her to represent one of them.

“It’s likely she needs a place to live,” Michelle said.

“Well, I heard there’s an apartment available soon,” I whispered.

“Well, I have a maiden aunt who has first dibs. She’s a very young seventy,” Michelle replied as she sat down on a metal folding chair.

“Really?” I asked.

“You betcha,” she said with a smile. “Auntie Lorraine, my mother’s sister can hardly wait to see it and start redecorating.”

The two of us sat down on a couple of other folding chairs. If Michelle could dust up her designer suit, we could join her.

Lloyd brought us coffees and drank his while standing by the wall, watching the others while guarding us.

Alan rushed into the room. “What is going on here?”

Harper stood and showed him the workmen’s discovery and introduced him to the architect.

“I can’t see why this matters, Detective,” he said.

Before Harper could respond, the architect said, “Mr. Lyons, this amazing and historical discovery makes this building far more valuable financially. Think of the publicity Lyons Shipping will get—all free. It could go national. Maybe even international.”

Harper interrupted, “It’s possible these passage ways hold the answers to unsolved crimes. That means negative press.”

“That will only increase the interest, and, therefore, the value. It can all be reported in the right light. In cases like this, the bad news can be very good news,” he said, a huge smile across his face.

“Even if it involves stalking, rape, and murder?” Michelle asked.

“That would be even better. And if there is any connection to prohibition or any shipping crimes committed long ago, well . . . honestly this could be the best news Lyons Shipping has received in years.”

I couldn’t seem to help myself when it came to this guy. “This is kind of like finding King Tut’s tomb for you, isn’t it?” I asked.

He released his glee. “It is! How wonderful you understand. Perhaps we could meet for coffee later and discuss this,” he said.

Before I could respond, he’d turned back to the hole in the wall.

Shocked, I looked over at Michelle, who grinned. Had he just hit on me? Was he kidding? Did he really think I’d go? These questions tumbled around in my brain while I was vaguely aware that Alan had signed the permission forms and Harper called in her forensics team.

After a few minutes Alan asked Harper, “Can Lloyd take Ms. Morgan back to her apartment? I think this is a police and family matter.”

“Alan!” Michelle said. “By the way, where is your new mentee?”

“She thought it best for us to be free to focus on this situation without a stranger present. I agreed.”

I turned to Harper and said, “Actually, I’d be glad to return to the apartment with protection. I have no need to know what’s going on until all the information is in.”

On the way to the office, Lloyd had put my box in the safe that was more like a small vault located in his office. “Is it secure there?” I’d asked him.

“Yes. I had that added when we renovated the room. Only I have the combination, and the room has its own security system, including a concealed video camera.

“Are you a little paranoid?” I asked.

“With all the stuff going on around here the last ten years? I’m cautious.”

“You knew about the rape?” I asked, my heart sinking to my toes.

“I knew you’d been attacked. Mr. Lyons made it out to be a mugging gone wrong on my watch.”

When we walked into the apartment, Lloyd motioned me back and got on his phone. “Harper, come to the apartment—now. It’s been broken into.”

I tried to step around him, but he asked me to stand back until he knew it was safe.

Harper arrived with more officers to help investigate the damage done to everything in the apartment, including my clothes. The only things left untouched were Jillian’s things and my hidden art. I was relieved and a little creeped out by that. And glad I hadn’t brought my new clothes, laptop, camera, and art supplies back into the apartment.

There were obscene words painted on the walls and what looked like knife stabs.

On the refrigerator someone had written in what looked like permanent marker,
You all think you’re so smart. You’re not and this is not over
.

Turning away from the message I heard Lloyd say, “Harper, look at all this white dust.”

There were white boot prints across the floor. Harper hit a button on her phone and said, “Send someone up here with a camera.”

“It feels like this guy wants us to find him,” Lloyd said.

“It’s like he has nothing to lose.” My words scared me—bad.

A hidden door stood open at the end of the hallway revealed where my enemy had entered and had most likely escaped in the past. Thanks to Lloyd’s carefully placed videos, and an app on his phone, we watched as a man wearing an eye patch, dressed as one of the renovation workers smiled up at one camera, gave it the finger, and walked out.

On our way to The Saint Paul, we took a detour and went to the Mall of America where I purchased new clothes, underwear, pajamas, and a few personal items. Being out in the open was frightening, but I refused to let it rule me. I insisted we eat at a table by the windows at Ruby Tuesday’s.

“You’re a brave woman,” Sarah said.

“Not really. I’m shaking, sick to my stomach, and scared.”

Newman walked up to us at that moment. “Harper sent me over. May I join you?”

“Sure,” Sarah said. “It’s always good to have another gun at the table.”

The table had a bud vase with three miniature roses in it. My laugh sounded as hysterical as I felt.

My body guards looked at me with their eyebrows raised.

“It’s not every day I can say I had supper with Guns and Roses.” I heard the near-hysteria in my voice, and knew I was on the verge of losing it completely. For me, that would mean crying until all I had left were hiccups.

The waiter joined us and we ordered burgers all around. I usually preferred their salad bar, but I was no longer sure my legs would hold me up.

“Maybe you need a shot of brandy in that coffee,” Newman suggested.

“No! I do not drink. At all. Ever,” I said.

“Why is that?” he asked.

“Gus and Ma drank. She ended up in a stupor and Gus in a rage. I will not be like them. I don’t cuss either because that’s almost the only language he knew. That and crude words about women and sex.”

My hysteria had evolved into non-stop babble.

Sarah graciously interrupted and asked Newman, “Are you married?”

He seemed stumped by the question. Or maybe it was the way we females can turn a conversation corner at the speed of light.

“Um, no. Why?”

“Just wondering how marriage works for people like us—people in law enforcement.”

“I was engaged once. She died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sarah said.

“It was a long time ago. We were teenagers. At your age it’s normal to be curious about relationships. It can work, but the person you marry has to be as married to the job as you are.”

I watched and listened. At first I thought they were flirting, but as I continued to observe her asking, and his responses, I saw a man offering wisdom to a younger woman, not as a ‘mentee’ but the way a trusted uncle or older brother might. The way Mickey and I might have.

They continued to talk while we ate burgers perfectly done. I did what worked for me when I was nervous about an art project. I took deep breaths and focused on the flavors in my supper. This time I let my companions handle the social stuff.

I was just about back to normal when Newman turned to me and said, “How are things going at Mickey’s house?”

“Good. They are supposed to remove the old carpet soon, and then the painters will come in and cover up my artwork from the other night.”

“Your talent is impressive,” Newman said.

“Thanks. But you still think I killed someone, don’t you?”

“I’m not as sure as I used to be, but there’s something I can’t let go of. Something Mickey was onto cost him his life. I need to find that, and you keep turning up in the middle of it all.”

I nodded. His words should have caused me to tremble, but that didn’t happen. Instead of a verbal response, I yawned.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked.

“Sure. I’m just really tired. You know the way when your head and legs feel thick and heavy. Like when you take too much cold medicine,” I said.

“Let’s get you home,” Newman said.

I put my head on the table while the waiter processed our payment. I heard Sarah say, “She’s exhausted and on the verge of shock.”

“That or she’s resigned to me finding evidence against her,” Newman said under his breath.

He still didn’t trust me. That was information I needed if I was going to stay out of jail for the rest of my life.