Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 04 - Politics is Murder (9 page)

Taken To The Cleaners

THEY HAD DECIDED BEFORE BED their first stop in the morning would be downtown, where the zoning bylaws had been changed. While law enforcement would exhaust those already on Davenport’s hate list, they would tap into the newly developing one. After all, these people had their livelihoods and family businesses to lose. And blood is thicker than water.

They stood on the sidewalk in front of Hibbert’s Dry Cleaning. The windows were plastered with fluorescent bristol board starbursts with specials noted in thick black marker.

A bell chimed when they opened the door and the woman who had been on TV was standing behind the counter. “Good morning.” She offered her greeting with a polite, warm smile that pinched the corners of her eyes.

“Good morning. Mrs. Hibbert?” Sean approached the counter.

“It’s been a while since I heard that one. Mona will work fine.”

Sean thought back to the television piece on them, and the man that had been standing beside her. He had erroneously surmised he was her husband.

Mona looked at Sara, taking in her dress. Sara had removed her sunglasses and held them in her hand, her purse tucked under an arm. Mona’s eyes went back to Sean. “You’re the McKinleys, aren’t you? I saw you on TV.”

“Yes, guilty as charged.” Sean smiled and, instead of setting the older woman at ease, it seemed to ratchet her paranoia.

Her mouth went into a straight line. “I was on TV too. Maybe you saw me.”

“That’s actually why we’re here, Mona.” Sara came up beside Sean.

“You’re here because I was on TV?”

She nodded.

“All right. Then you know that the mayor is putting us out of business. It’s official now. With the tax change, we just can’t afford to keep the doors open. We barely skimmed by before.”

Sean was aware she kept talking, but his eyes took in the room—a simple counter, an older cash register, and the dry cleaning racks coiled behind her. Above the register was a sign that read
cash only
. There were a couple things hurting the business, and it was more than a zoning change.

The Hibberts hadn’t advanced with the times—no debit or credit—and how many people actually paid for dry cleaning anymore? A select few, however, those who did likely didn’t oppose the original tender. Her clientele were likely aging right along with the business. Any young people who needed their cleaning done would hit a franchised location for a lower price, a faster turnaround, and be given payment options.

The door chime sounded and the three of them turned to the middle-aged woman walking with a toddler holding her hand.

“Good morning, Tess,” Mona said, “and Bonnie.”

The little girl smiled and ran toward the counter. Sean glanced from her to Sara. Her reaction to the girl was similar to his, but when their eyes met, he sensed apprehension—and fear? Her smile faded.

Tess laid a winter coat on the counter. “Express isn’t needed, Mona. I sure hope we’re pretty much finished with winter.” Tess passed a smile to Sean and Sara.

Sara returned the expression. “Let’s hope.”

As his eyes drifted from Sara, they went to the wall behind her. There was a framed photograph of the Hibbert family. It was black and white, but, based on the clothing, hadn’t been taken too long ago. He bobbed his head toward it and Sara went over with him.

The Hibbert family consisted of twenty-five members at all different ages in this shot. It was taken in the summer, with the majority wearing shorts and t-shirts. The young children were seated on the ground in front, with the rest standing behind them.

Sara pointed to a young man. “Look familiar to you?”

The adrenaline rushed through him. The face staring at them was about five years younger, but the identity easy to conclude. “I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

“Me either.”

They turned in time to see Mona hand Tess a ticket. When the woman and girl left, Mona came over.

“That’s the family, as you’ve likely guessed. It was taken at a good time—a family reunion. Everyone was happy that day.”

“You have a lot of younger people,” Sara said.

“Yes, but sadly we won’t have this business to leave them.”

“Are any of them your children?”

Sean appreciated that Sara was baiting the woman into disclosing information without it being an obvious trap.

Mona pointed out a few. “This is my daughter Tabitha and her son and daughter.”

Sara glanced at Sean. She then pointed to the young man. “I would have thought for certain he was your grandchild or son.”

“Justin? He’s my nephew. My younger sister’s son. He’s a great kid. I’m actually his godmother.”

Bringing In The Reinforcements

SARA LED THE WAY, THE brisk stride in her Jimmy Choo shoes eating up the sidewalk as if she were in sneakers. “So, her sister’s son goes to school with Halie. His aunt’s business is at risk. He knows who Halie’s father is, tries to get some money to at least help out Mona.”

“We’ve got to get back to Richmond.”

“That we do, but we still don’t have a last name for the kid.”

“We can’t push Jimmy.”

“We could try the Internet and see if we come up with anything.”

Sean nodded. “I’m calling for the jet and telling them to expect us in an hour.”

She nodded and pulled out her cell. “It’s a good thing we didn’t empty the overnight bags.” She brought up the browser window on her phone and typed in
Justin nephew of Mona Hibbert Dry cleaning
. She knew it was a wild stretch but had to try. She heard Sean speaking, but his words didn’t make it through. The results came up and none of them were relevant.

Sean hung up. “The plane will be waiting for us.” He pointed to her phone.

“No luck.” As she said the words, an idea occurred to her. They couldn’t use Jimmy with this, but they weren’t left entirely in the dark. They had another resource available to them. “I know who could help us.”

“Darling, I love it when you get that look in your eyes.”

“Remember Adam?”

“New York City Adam?”

She laughed. “Yes, that would be the one. Edward is winding down his days at Universal. Maybe Adam has some spare time.”

“Not sure, but we are technically his bosses anyway.” He smirked.

“Yes, I suppose we are. But that kid, he’d be—”

“That kid. Sorry, darling, but I’m having a moment here. He’s in his twenties and we’re terming him a kid. Halie’s nineteen and we keep referring to her as a young girl. Are we getting old?”

“Never. We’re maturing.”

“Huh. Interesting twist you put on that. Not sure whether I’m going to buy it, but I’ll accept that right now.”

“Going back to Adam. He knew how to track down IP addresses, how hard could a little hacking be?”

“Hacking?”

She took her eyes from him for a second. “Remember when I said I’d like to solve cases, not as a PI, but with more freedom.”

“Of course.”

She loved the edge to his voice. She had him intrigued. Hopefully he felt the same when she revealed her plan to him. “I want him to hack into the university computers, find out Justin’s full name and anything else he can.”

“So, you’re suggesting that he break the law?”

She winced. “It’s for a good cause, to save a girl’s life.”

He didn’t hesitate long. “Let’s do it.”

Touchdown

BY THE TIME THE PLANE landed, Sean’s phone rang and it was Adam.

“Let me put you on speaker.”

He and Sara stood close together, their overnight bags at their feet.

“I have the information you were looking for,” Adam said. “Justin’s last name is Pearson. I’m sending all of this through to your phone now.”

Sean watched the message icon appear at the top of the screen. “Looks like it was received.”

“I’ve included his home address, phone number, his birthday. Probably way more than you even need. Let me know if there’s anything else.”

“We will. Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, Mr. McKinley. I mean it. Anything else you need, I’m your guy.”

Sean passed Sara a smile. The kid was already addicted to undercover work. The upside was they could use someone like him on their team. “We will be in touch.”

“Wonderful.” Adam’s smile came across the phone line. “Good day, Sean and Sara.”

Sean liked how Adam began with the formal address and concluded with the informal.

“He said anytime, darling.” Sara smiled at him as she looped her arm through his.

The address for Justin Pearson led to a middle-income neighborhood, based on the cookie-cutter architecture—two-story, vinyl-sided houses with large garages occupying a good portion of the front face.

Justin rented the bottom apartment of number seven eighty-one. The homeowners were of no relation to him.

Sean and Sara parked their rental car around the corner, their day-job mindset taking precedence—don’t scare the perpetrator by making them feel trapped. If Justin was behind all this, seeing them in advance could cause him to panic and do something to hurt Halie.

“He is an outsider, Sean, and he has invested reason. He must have figured he’d get some money out of Davenport before his godmother had to close her business.” Sara flipped down the visor, peered in the mirror, and traced a fingertip around her brow. The last couple of days had infused her eyes with weariness. There was a lot at stake—a girl’s life. A portion of her wondered if they should have just called in their lead and had law enforcement take it, but she also saw the benefit to keeping the matter between them until they knew for sure.

“He also has a lot to lose, so we have to be careful how we approach this,” Sean said.

She nodded. He verbalized her exact thinking on the matter. “We go in slow.”

Seven eighty-one was a cream-sided house. The entrance to the lower apartment was at the right side and they followed the path. No cars were in the driveway.

There was no doorbell, so Sean knocked on the door, a solid rap that would have permeated deep into the home.

They waited and heard nothing.

“No one’s home, Sean.” She leaned against the sidelight, nearly touching her nose to the glass, her hand sheltering her eyes from other light so she could focus inside. When her eyes adjusted, she saw him. She straightened and looked over at Sean. “We have to go inside.”

“First hacking, and now you’re hungry for more B&E.”

Based on the reflection in his eyes, her face must have said it all. She was certain she was pale. He twisted the handle, and with a negative shake of his head, she went into her purse and handed him a pin.

Justin was lying on the kitchen floor. A frying pan was beside him and there was a deep gash to his forehead.

Sean got down to him and felt for a pulse. A few seconds later, he stood. “He’s gone. Now we’re never going to find Halie.”

“She could have attacked him when she broke free.”

“But if she did, we should know by now. Reanne would have called, or the Davenports.”

“Very true, darling.” She took in the scene. The pan had a blood smear on its base and was definitely the weapon of death. She closed her eyes for a second and revelation hit her. “It wasn’t Halie who did this.”

“Who could it be then?”

“He was a socially awkward kid, and given the monetary motivation, well, it seemed plausible he took her, but I think it was more a case of him worrying about her. I think, as indifferent as he tried to project himself, he was worried about her, and while we were doing our investigative work, he was doing his.”

“You think he spoke to the wrong people.”

“Yeah, I do, darling. I think he was killed trying to save her.”

“All right. Well, that still leaves us with the original issue, plus one. Who killed Justin, and who is behind Halie’s kidnapping?”

Sara stepped into a side room to get away from Justin’s lifeless eyes. “Let’s think this through. Monica was drunk and afraid when we spoke with her.”

“And we felt she was hiding something.”

“Justin was a friend of Halie’s, even if no one knew about it.”

“All right. Then why tell him he wasn’t any good as a writer and not to enter the contest.”

“She was protecting him, or had an objection to the contest herself. Remember she didn’t even enter, and if she was a great writer like everyone said, including her professor, she would have jumped on it right away.”

“Unless something else held her back,” Sean finished her line of thought.

“Exactly. I’m thinking someone in a position of power.”

Sean pulled out his cell phone. “Guess we needed Adam’s help sooner than I thought.”

“Are you thinking what I am—a teacher? Or the dean?”