In the Drink (12 page)

“There's nothing,” I said, my disappointment—and a tinge of fear—clear in my voice. “Wait, there is something.” In the bottom right corner printed in very small letters was a date and time: Tuesday, December 15, 5:00
P.M.
I showed it to Mal and then told Duncan what it said.

“No trace this time?” Duncan asked.

“No anything,” I told him. “Just a folded sheet of paper that's completely blank except for that deadline.”

Several seconds of silence ticked by as the three of us contemplated the meaning of the essentially blank page.

“Wait a minute . . .” I said, staring at the sheet and sorting through my senses. “There's something off about the paper. The color and texture are both wrong. And there's a smell, an odd out-of-place smell. I think the paper was soaked in something because it looks slightly rippled, as if it might have been wet at one time.”

Mal looked at the paper, then at me. I held the paper close to my nose and inhaled. I heard faint strains of classical string music and knew what the odor was—or rather what the odors were, because there were two of them. The music I heard was a mix of high-pitched violin and the deep base sounds of a cello.

“It's champagne . . . and beer,” I said. “This paper has been soaked in champagne and beer.”

“Are you sure?” Duncan said. Then, without waiting for me to answer, he added, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Mal, who had also gloved up, reached over, took the paper from me, and repeated my actions by holding it under his own nose.

“I don't know what it means,” I said, watching as Mal sniffed, shrugged, and then shook his head. He handed the sheet back to me, eyeing me with a curious expression.

My body felt as if it was vibrating all over, a common thing that happens when I'm frightened. “I'm certain of the beer and champagne thing, but I don't have any idea what it means. With no other clues, how am I supposed to figure this out?” I said to no one in particular, feeling panicky. “This is getting out of hand.”

“Take a deep breath,” Duncan said. “Let's give it some thought and regroup on it in the morning.”

I didn't want to wait until morning. Lives literally hung in the balance. But at the moment I didn't have any choice. “I have to tell you, this whole thing has me more than a little spooked,” I said. “Everywhere I go, everything I do, I can't help but wonder if this sicko is somewhere nearby, watching me.” I could feel the panic growing inside me and heard it in my voice. Normally, my own voice has no taste for me, but when I experience strong emotions, it sometimes does. The taste it had now, the taste of panic and fear, was cold and bitter, like sucking on a Popsicle made from unsweetened chocolate.

“This whole thing
is
twisted,” Mal said, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. “But don't let it get the better of you. We need to keep our heads on straight to make sure we're thinking clearly. It appears that whoever is behind this wants to play a mental game, so we have to stay mentally tough.” He paused, frowned, and then added, “Though to be on the safe side, I don't think you should be staying here alone at night.”

Duncan agreed. “Mal is right, Mack. You should have someone there with you, just in case. I don't think this psycho is trying to come after you in any physical sense, at least not yet, but we can't be sure.” My heart leapt with anticipation, thinking Duncan intended to come and spend the night with me, but his next words were a cold shock of reality. “I wish I could be there with you tonight, Mack,” he said. “But this case Jimmy and I are working on is sucking up every spare minute I have.”

“That's okay,” I said, feeling my heart sink. “I'm always careful to make sure I lock everything up tight at night. I'll be okay.”

“Even so, I'd feel better if there was someone there with you,” Duncan insisted. “Mal, is there any chance you can stay there for a night or two and keep an eye on her?”

Mal and I glanced at one another but he quickly looked away. “I don't see why not,” he said with a shrug. “After all, we
are
supposed to be dating.”

I didn't know how to feel about this latest development. On the one hand, I was relieved to have someone stay with me, though I was disappointed it wasn't going to be Duncan. On the other hand, I was happy to have Mal there, and I felt comfortable with the idea for the most part, though after our earlier discussion, I feared things might get awkward.

I finally decided to just go with the flow, though I felt a need to clarify things up front. “Thanks, Mal. You can sleep in my dad's bedroom if you want.”

“I'll be fine on the couch,” he said. “It's a more central location.”

“Suit yourself,” I said.

Duncan thanked Mal and then I picked up my phone, took it off speaker, and meandered into my kitchen for some privacy. “It's just you and me now,” I said to Duncan. “Am I ever going to get to see you again?”

I heard him sigh and it saddened me. “Of course you will,” he said. “I'm just not sure when. Between this case I'm working and the need to be so secretive . . .”

“It isn't always going to be like this though, right?”

“Man, I hope not. But in the meantime, watch your back, even with the people you think you can trust. And that reminds me, have you made any progress with Tiny's sister's case?”

“A little.” I told him about the discussion we'd had earlier and how Carter was going to try to get a copy of Anna Hermann's diary. “I'm thinking I might go and talk to some of the suspects, just to get a feel for what they have to say, to determine if I think they're telling the truth, and to see if anything unusual jumps out at me. Though given the time span since the crime, I don't know if my synesthesia will be of much use other than to get a feel for whether or not someone is lying.”

“Mack, you can't just go around and start chatting up people who might have committed a murder—make that two murders—in the past. Who knows what they've done since then and who knows what they're capable of doing now if they feel like someone is breathing down their neck? Don't you have enough stress right now with this psycho letter writer?”

“Yes, I do have stress,” I said, my tone a bit more irritable than I intended. I was angry, not with Duncan per se, but with the way our relationship seemed to be evolving . . . or devolving. “That's why I need something else to focus on. Plus, I can't help but empathize with Tiny and his situation. I know what it feels like to lose someone you love to murder, and to wonder if the culprit will ever be caught. I feel compelled to help him if I can.”

“It's not your job, Mack.”

“You didn't feel that way when I was helping you. Then you were all about making it my job.”

“That was different. You had police protection and processes working with you. Doing this alone isn't the same.”

“Then I won't do it alone. I'll take Tiny along with me. Or maybe Mal. And if neither of them can come along, I'll take Gary. Now that he's back at work, I can make good use of him as a bodyguard.”

“I really wish you wouldn't do this, Mack, not without me.”

“Yeah, well, you're not here, are you? And the fact that I even want to do it is largely your fault.”

“My fault? How do you figure?”

“You're the one who got me started on this crime-solving stuff. You're the one who showed me that I can make a difference. You're the one who made me see that something I once thought was a curse could be put to use to help other people.”

I heard him sigh again, and could see him in my mind's eye, running his hand through his hair the way he did whenever he got exasperated. He muttered something that sounded like “Frigging hot-tempered redheads,” though I couldn't be sure. Then he said, “Okay, I know when I'm beat. And I know you well enough to know that when you're this determined about something, you're going to do what you want regardless of what I say. So all I'm going to ask is that you be careful and use good sense.”

“I will.”

“I want you to keep me abreast of what's going on. Call me every day.”

“Is there a time that's best?”

“Just call me when you can. Any time will do. And please be careful, Mack. I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“I need to get back to work, so I'll say good-bye for now. But if anything else comes up today, tonight, tomorrow, whenever, you call me.”

“I said I will.”

With that I ended the call. I felt annoyed and irritated, and I wasn't sure why. Duncan's statement that he didn't want anything to happen to me might have been his way of saying he cared, but on what level? It was hardly a declaration of love—not that we were at that stage in our relationship yet— and that wasn't what I was after. I felt a very strong attraction to the man, and as such I wanted to know if we had a potential future together as a couple. Was he romantically interested in me over the long term, or had he been stringing me along so he could use me and my synesthesia to help him in his job?

Then I recalled what both Duncan and Mal had said about Duncan being left at the altar in his last relationship. Certainly that had to have been a crushing blow, not to mention humiliating. Given that, I supposed it made sense that he was being slow and cautious now. But it did give me pause. Was I simply a rebound relationship, someone he could use to bide his time until he recovered from his last one?

Agonizing over it was making me crazy, so I shoved my thoughts to the back of my mind and returned to Mal. “Thanks for offering to stay with me.”

“My pleasure. My place is pretty lonely and, to be honest, it's also kind of a dump. So this is a move up in the world for me.”

“Do you need to go to your place to get some extra clothes and stuff?”

Mal shook his head. “I always keep an overnight bag in my trunk that has some basic toiletries in it along with a couple of changes of clothes.”

“Duncan does that, too,” I said. “Must be a cop thing.”

“It is. You never know in this business when you're going to be up all night on a stakeout or something.”

“Okay, then,” I said, seeing that he had bagged the latest letter and envelope. “I was planning on checking in with the Capone Club to see what's new with Tiny's case. Want to come along?”

“I'd love to. But only if you promise to treat me to one of those cheese curds you were bragging about.”

“I'll fix you up something special,” I said. “Cheese curds and one of my famous BLT sandwiches. If that combo doesn't satisfy your appetite and harden your arteries, nothing will.”

“Hell, we only live once,” he said. With that, he crooked one arm and waved the other toward the stairs. “Shall we?”

I took his proffered arm and let him lead the way.

We stopped at the bar to order our food and get some drinks to take with us. Mal told me to surprise him with the drinks, so I whipped us up a couple of cocktails my father called a Frustration. It seemed appropriate, given the way things were going, and my father said it was one of those drinks that would make all your frustrations disappear.

As I was mixing up our concoctions, Debra came over to talk to us. “How was your afternoon at the zoo?”

“It was nice,” I said. “The weather cooperated and the trip brought back a lot of fond memories.”

Mal excused himself to hit up the men's room and, as soon as he was gone, Debra leaned into me and her questions turned interrogative. “So, how's it going with Mal? I have to give Cora credit. He's pretty hot, don't you think? And he seems to really like you. Do you like him? Have you kissed him yet?”

Debra's voice was low, but not low enough that Billy didn't hear. He smiled and shook his head.

“It's going fine,” I said. “Slow but steady, and yes, yes, and yes.”

“I'm happy for you, Mack,” Debra said. “I thought you and Duncan were going to work out, but if not, I'm glad you found someone else.”

“Thanks,” I said, wondering if Duncan and I ever were going to work out.

Mal returned, and as soon as Billy handed us our drinks, we headed upstairs to the Capone Club room. The group had changed some since our last visit. Carter and Holly, his girlfriend, were gone, as was Tad. And both of the Signoriello brothers were gone as well. Alicia was in the bar, but she was downstairs hanging around Billy as usual. There were two additions to the group: Nick and Tyrese, both of whom were local cops from Duncan's district.

“Welcome back, you two,” Cora said as Mal and I walked in.

“Thanks.” I greeted Tyrese and Nick and then introduced them to Mal, watching closely for any signs of recognition. If they knew him, they didn't let on.

“What have you two been up to?” Nick asked. Though his question sounded innocent and friendly on the surface, I sensed, and tasted, an undercurrent of something in his voice. During one of the cases I'd worked with Duncan a few weeks ago, Nick had hinted that he was interested in dating me, and I wondered if that might be the cause. Or maybe he thought I was two-timing Duncan.

“We went to the zoo,” I said. “It's something I've wanted to do for a while now and given what an unusually nice day it was weatherwise, Mal and I decided to make an afternoon of it.”

I saw a frown flit across Nick's face, but it was there and gone in a flash. I made a mental note to take him aside later and talk to him about it.

Cora said, “We have some exciting updates on Tiny's case to report.”

“Fill us in,” I said, settling into one of the empty chairs. Mal took the one next to me.

“Carter just called me,” Cora continued. “He and Holly went to talk to Anna Hermann's parents. They gave them that spiel we cooked up about him working on a true crime story highlighting Lori and Anna's case, and they agreed to let him copy Anna's diary. I also found out where Anna's brother, Erik, is living and got some updates on his status. He's married now, has a degree in chemistry, and he's teaching at UW Milwaukee.” Cora handed me a piece of paper with two addresses written on it. “That first address is his residence, and the second is his office on campus.”

“That's great,” I said. “I'll see if I can go and talk to him either tomorrow or Monday. Maybe Carter can come with me and we can continue with the pretense of the book thing.”

Cora then handed me another piece of paper. “This one is the address of William Schneider, the so-called strange neighbor who lived in Lori's neighborhood. He still lives there, in the same house.”

“I'll add him to my itinerary,” I said, hoping I'd be able to do it all. Depending on whether or not we were able to interpret the latest letter, my time might be otherwise occupied. I looked around at the faces in the room. If I didn't figure out this last letter, one of them might turn up dead. I felt the panic start to build again and forced it deep down inside me somewhere, mentally locking it away.

“Maybe you should let the cops do what they do,” Mal said. “Something like this is their territory. They have cold case squads, don't they?”

“Ya,” Tiny said. “But dey told me dey don't have any new leads in my sister's case so dey aren't working it.”

Mal frowned. “But if the cops don't have any leads, what do all of you hope to accomplish? Certainly their resources are better than yours.” I began to wonder if he and Duncan were in cahoots together on this matter.

Cora said, “We have a few tricks up our sleeves. I can access information with my computer that isn't strictly legal. And then we have Mack here, and her special powers.”

“Special powers?” Mal said, looking at me and arching his brows.

“You didn't tell him?” Cora said.

“I told him,” I said, “though I didn't go into a lot of detail.”

“Are you referring to this disorder you have?” Mal asked.

“More of a gift than a disorder,” Cora countered. “She can sniff out stuff ordinary people, including the cops, can't. And I mean that both figuratively and literally.”

Dr. T, who up until now had remained quiet, said, “Mack does have a rather unique ability with her synesthesia. I've done a little research on it and while her case is a rather extreme one, it's a legitimate disorder. Mack's senses are not only cross-wired—a typical finding among synesthetes—they are also extrasensitive. She is able to pick up on things normal humans can't.” She shot me a look then and added, “Sorry, I don't mean to imply that you're abnormal, but you are kind of unique.”

“No offense taken,” I said. “But Mal does raise a valid point. My abilities are very time sensitive. I may be able to pick up on something that was moved within the last hour, or the remnants of a smell from something that was here within the last day or so, but we're talking about a twelve-year-old murder case here. I don't know how useful my senses are going to be in that situation.”

“Yeah, but you can do your lie detector t'ing,” Tiny said.

“Lie detector thing?” Mal echoed, giving me a questioning look.

“Yeah, I can often tell when someone is lying about something because I can pick up on subtle changes in their voice.”

“Good to know,” Mal said, looking a little wary. Considering that he and I had already had this discussion a short time ago, I had to admire his acting skill. “But I'm still concerned about you messing with potential murderers. I mean, this crime-solving stuff you guys do here is interesting and fun when you're sitting in this cozy room and doing it from a safe distance, but going out and stirring up an old case that's never been solved could be dangerous. At the very least, you should have someone go with you.”

“You're welcome to come along,” I said.

“You should have a cop go with you,” Nick said. “Both to protect yourself and any evidence you might dig up.”

I was a millisecond away from slipping and saying that Mal
was
a cop when Mal saved me. “Nick is right,” he said. “I don't mind coming along with you when I can, but I won't always be able to do it because I've got to work during the week. So you should probably take Nick or Tyrese along with you.”

“What about Duncan?” Nick asked.

“What about him?” I countered.

“Why wouldn't you take him with you?”

“Things are a bit strained between us right now, both personally and, for him, professionally.”

Tyrese gave Nick an elbow in the ribs and said, “Dude, you know what the chief said about Duncan using Mack and what he called her voodoo magic. Hell, the guy nearly lost his job over it.”

“That's true,” I said. “And I don't want to put either of you in the same position, so maybe it's better if you don't come with me.”

Tyrese considered this a moment, shrugged, and then said to me, “What we choose to do on our off hours is our own business. We're allowed to look into cold cases on our own time so if you turn up something useful, we can find a way to make it look like we dug it up ourselves so your involvement won't be known. Mal is right; you really shouldn't be doing this alone, Mack. I'm willing to help you out during my off hours.”

I looked at the papers Cora had given me with the addresses on them, and thought about the latest letter. I had no idea what the letter meant and didn't think sitting around agonizing over it would help. Sometimes doing something else and letting my subconscious figure out a problem works best. So I might as well spend Sunday following up on Tiny's case. “Okay,” I said to the three men who seemed determined to help me. “Who's free tomorrow?”

Nick frowned and said, “I'm off work but tomorrow is my sister's birthday and I promised I'd come by her place for lunch.”

Tyrese said, “I'm free.”

“As am I,” Mal added.

“So which one should we tackle first?” I asked. “Maybe we should go up to Waupun and pay a visit to Lonnie Carlisle.”

“I can arrange that,” Tyrese offered. “I can tell the prison officials that I want to talk to him regarding a case we're investigating. Essentially, that's the truth.”

I considered this, and nodded. “See if you can set something up for tomorrow. Shoot for a time around one in the afternoon.” Then I turned and looked at Mal. “Would you be willing to come with me to talk to Erik Hermann in the morning?”

“Absolutely,” Mal said. “What time?”

“Let's do it around ten. That should give us enough time to talk to him and still drive up to Waupun and get there around one.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Mal said. “Can I come along for the Waupun trip, too?”

I looked at Tyrese and he shrugged his indifference. “Sure,” I said. Once again Nick frowned.

Cora reached over and set a hand on Tyrese's arm. “Can you guys tell us anything about Lewis?”

Now it was Tyrese's turn to frown. Nick shook his head and said, “It's an ongoing investigation and we can't tell you anything more than what you'll hear on the news. Though many of you should expect to be questioned at some point since you knew him.” Tyrese got up from his chair and grabbed his coat. “It was a crappy thing that happened to him,” he said, looking around the room. “I know it's going to be hard on all of you.”

“You don't think his death had anything to do with the group, do you?” Sam asked.

“I highly doubt it. It looks to be an isolated thing as far as I know. I'm not directly involved with the case, but I can't imagine anyone trying to pick off you guys simply because you spend time trying to solve crimes.” Tyrese chuffed a laugh at the apparent absurdity of the idea, but in the next second his expression turned grim. “Look, I know you guys are going to want to look into Lewis's death to see if you can figure out what happened and who did it. But I'm going to urge you to stay out of it for now. If you start mucking around with the case by tipping off witnesses or messing with evidence, you might screw up the official investigation.” This was met with mixed emotions judging from the expressions in the room. There was some agreement, some consternation, and Dr. T looked downright rebellious.

Tyrese turned his attention to me. “I'm going to head home now, but I'll give the prison a call and set things up for around one tomorrow. It's a little over an hour drive, give it an hour and a half. Should I plan to pick you and Mal up here around eleven-thirty?”

I looked over at Mal, who nodded. “That will be great, Tyrese,” I said. “Thanks.”

As Tyrese was leaving, Carter and Holly came walking in. Carter was sporting a huge grin and carrying a large manila envelope.

“I got Anna's diary,” he said, holding up the envelope.

“Fantastic!” I said. “Have you had a chance to read it yet?”

Carter shook his head. “We've been busy copying it and returning the original to her family.”

Cora asked, “Did you talk to Anna's parents about the case?”

“Some,” Carter said. “We spent about an hour with them. They're still pretty raw on the subject, which I guess is to be expected.”

“Ya,” Tiny said, “da pain never really goes away.”

“They did put one caveat on letting me have the diary to copy,” Carter said. “They made me promise I wouldn't shed their son, Erik, in a bad light in the book.”

“Well, since you aren't actually writing a book, that shouldn't be a problem,” Sam said.

Carter flashed a guilty smile. “Except I'm thinking I might actually do it. I haven't had much luck with my fiction, so maybe it's not a bad idea to switch to true crime. It's a hot selling genre, and with the help of all of you I should be able to investigate any number of cases, both current and cold.”

There was silence and another mix of expressions as the group contemplated this. I had mixed feelings myself. And I couldn't help but wonder how Tiny would feel about having his sister's brutal murder highlighted in a book that might sell on a national level. I looked over at him, expecting to see doubt or concern on his face, but instead he looked pleased with the news.

“What if Erik Hermann turns out to be the killer?” I asked Carter. “What are you going to do then?”

Carter shrugged. “I'll cross that bridge if and when I get to it.” He focused on Nick. “Any news about Lewis's case?”

The next few minutes were spent filling Carter and Holly in on the information and cautions Tyrese had delivered to the rest of us moments before. Carter looked disappointed but resigned, at least for now. Holly simply appeared sad.