The Sayers Swindle (A Book Collector Mystery) (22 page)

“The Adamses’ lives might depend on it.”

“And if they are alive, they’re going to make sure no one finds them to charge them with killing this guy.”

“I can’t imagine Randolph killing anyone. There will be a story there that might vindicate them.”

She made a face. Might have been Vera’s twin for a minute.

I said, “What?”

“You don’t want to be too—”

“Naïve?”

“Maybe not naïve, but trusting. There’s something off about them.”

“I know that, Candy. But between something off and killing someone there’s a lot of territory.” I thought of my uncles, crooked as you can get, but gentle and kind. And never in the least bit violent. If the Adamses were crooks, I figured there was a good chance they were this type. And yes, even I knew that was probably wishful thinking.

“Then we can talk about it on our way. Where to first?”

“Fairlawn and then on to Ainslie. There’s a bit of money in those communities and they are less likely to hang on to things. Although the downside of that is they may have a better sense of the value of the good stuff.”

“I getcha. When shall I pick you up?”

I felt my back stiffen. I am used to being in control of a vehicle, making my own way and my own decisions. This I didn’t intend to cave on.

“I like to drive. I hate being driven. Never get used to it. What time should I pick you up?”

There was a little flash of resistance in her eyes, then a grin. “Sure thing. I don’t make a great passenger, but you’re letting me come along. How about I come by your place and leave my car there and we go in yours. Only thing is, if I get called in, we’d have to get back PDQ.”

This was turning into a pain. I could already imagine one of my favorite parts of the job being ruined by this curious, insistent and irritating person. And maybe having my day’s work cut short if she got called to work on some police matter.

“What are the chances you’d get called in?” I figured they were pretty high. Even if they didn’t think much of her abilities, the force must have been stretched with this murder. On the other hand, they were pretty lax in a lot of ways. Maybe the Burton cops just investigated murders from nine to five, weekdays. That wouldn’t have surprised me a bit.

“Hard to say. I’m not used to their ways yet and, you know, there was a murder.” She chuckled.

“That’s funny?”

“Not where I come from, but they’re kind of laid-back in Burton, so who knows. If there’s more media coverage or something, they might get energized. I’d like to get called in. I need the experience and I want to work my way up to detective. You can’t do that if you don’t have a chance to watch them in action.”

I wondered if the Burton force would be the best kind of experience, particularly when they had an enthusiastic new hire and they were not making use of her in what had to be the most significant crimes in the community in memory.

Fine. I could always drop her off and head out again. The worst that could happen would be that I’d lose an hour. I could live with that.

“Okay, well, we’ll play it by ear. No point in starting too early. I’d like to begin at Once More with Feeling, which is the furthest point. It supports a women’s shelter and a school breakfast program. It’s in Fairlawn. It’s closed on Monday and Tuesday and opens at noon on Wednesday. They always have a team of volunteers stocking the stuff that they received over the weekend, and they won’t open until they’re ready. We’ll be their early birds.”

“Cheep, cheep,” she said. I wondered if maybe she meant “cheap, cheap.”

A
S WE HEADED
back to our vehicles (as Candy called them), I stoked the idea of visiting the police station in Candy’s mind.

“So you’re going to pop in to the station and check around to see if you can find some connection between Randolph and this Pierre Gagnon. Depending on what you find out, it could change what we do tomorrow.”

She gave me a hurt look. “Okay, I get the message. Part of the deal, is it?”

So I hadn’t been too subtle. I gave her my winningest smile, as the uncles would call it.

“Oh no, am I being pushy again? I’m just looking forward to our little road trip. I always do this alone, so it will be good to have company.”

She nodded, mollified. “Okay, I won’t let on that I don’t know anything about antiques or whatever, but yeah, I’ll pop in and see if there’s any news. Like I said before, I can’t bring my friends to see the ‘cop show.’”

I made a small show of protest.

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me. I’m used to it with other girls I know. It’s like feeding time at the zoo. Chance to see a man in uniform. Didn’t I tell you these guys are taken? Even the guy who’s gay and still in the closet.”

“Oh, I didn’t really mean to—”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s all right. Human nature. Listen, I’ll call you if there’s anything interesting.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty tired anyway and I need to sleep for a few hours.”

In my midtwenties and I was already starting to sound like Vera, except even Vera couldn’t go to sleep with all this going on. But I found Candy quite intense and, frankly, a bit needy. I needed to recharge for the next day.

As we said good-bye in front of her dark-blue Tahoe, Candy said, “Since you’re going to sleep anyway, maybe I’ll wait and check with the detectives tomorrow before we head out. They’re not guys to work all night if you know what I mean.”

I felt dirty exploiting her desire for friendship, but what choice was there? I figured I could make it up to her when everything, whatever everything was, sorted itself out. I resolved to accept Candy for what she was: an exuberant, loud, needy person who was apparently my new BFF.

“We should leave around ten,” I said. “It will be fun.”

“Sure,” she said. “Good times.”

• • •

I SLEPT LIKE
the dead. If I dreamed, I had no recollection. The way my dreams had been going, that was a good thing.

Vera was under the weather and didn’t show up for breakfast at eight. After an uneventful breakfast of ham, eggs and sautéed zucchini, I popped into my uncles’ place to find out if there was any word on Uncle Kev. It was now about thirty-six hours since he’d last been seen.

My uncles’ place was now Walter’s place too. And apparently this new nameless dog had a home there as well, although I had hopes that Tyler Dekker would return and the dog would go back to where he belonged. He nuzzled my ear as I sat at my uncles’ kitchen table. That dog wasn’t the only elephant in the room.

Uncle Lucky had a faraway look in his eye. He wasn’t paying any attention to me, Mick or the new dog, although Walter was getting his ears scratched in an absentminded manner. I knew what was behind this. Uncle Lucky’s relationship with Karen had moved to a new level and Uncle Lucky was a man in love. But that wasn’t something that I could ask him about. I adored Lucky and I thought Karen was great. The spoiled little girl in me wasn’t sure she wanted to share.
Get over yourself
, I told myself.

But I still felt that Walter and I were caught in the middle and who knew where that left Uncle Mick.

Uncle Mick had produced a package of gummy bears and some Oreo cookies. The perfect breakfast dessert.

“Thanks, but I couldn’t,” I said, “much as I’d like to. I have been stuffing my face in the interest of my job and of finding out something more about that murder before Uncle Kev gets fingered by the fuzz.”

It only takes a few minutes before I start to talk like the uncles and their friends.

“Kev? Why would he get fingered?”

“He was there the night it happened. You already know that and you know he clobbered a cop thinking he was saving me. Then, of course, he hid out in the area. Shortly after, somebody was killed.”

I had all their attention now.

“Uncle Kev was there. I don’t think he’s capable of killing someone and particularly not this way. I mean, maybe in self-defense or to save someone else or even by accident, but not in cold blood.”

I felt that familiar knot in my stomach. The Uncle Kev I knew was fun and funny. Not at all cold-blooded, but he was already on the run from some dangerous people before he’d stumbled into a situation with another batch of dangerous people. He might have needed to defend himself. Would he have the nerve to kill someone? Could he actually use a knife? It seemed so personal and so vicious.

I shuddered and stared at my uncles. “I mean, he would have had to look the guy in the eyes.”

Lucky shook his head. Uncle Mick’s ginger hair seemed to stand on end. “Kev is a pain in the entire anatomy of anyone who knows him, but he’s harmless. Well, he’s not harmless. He’s a disaster waiting to happen, but he’s not violent. Never was. Never did a thing to hurt anyone deliberately, although . . .”

I gulped. “I don’t think this could have been an accident. How could it be? He would have had to have a knife in his hand. Unless the other guy had the knife and Uncle Kev wrestled it from him and—What if this hit man was after Kev?”

“Don’t even imagine that, Jordan. If he had been, Kev still couldn’t kill him. He’s a runner, not a fighter.”

I slumped in relief. I’d known that, but life was so wacky lately that I needed to hear it from someone I trusted. And the only people I really trusted were the men right in front of me. Walter too, of course. The jury was out on the new dog, but it had trustworthy eyes.

I took a deep breath and said, “As long as no one else starts thinking it.”

Lucky’s inch-thick eyebrows shot up as did Mick’s color.

“Why would anything think that?” he huffed.

“Well, some of the neighbors might have spotted him around there. He spent a lot of time lurking. He must have left traces. A fingerprint. DNA. For sure his prints would be in the system and, for all I know, his DNA is too.”

They exchanged glances and Walter snuffled in sympathy.

I continued, “The Burton police don’t seem to be efficient in the least, but they will have a forensics team and it could end badly for Kev, unless they’re total idiots. Of course, that’s possible, based on my limited experience.”

“They couldn’t make it stick.”

“People get wrongly charged and convicted all the time. You should know that.” Of course, Uncle Mick and Uncle Lucky are from the other side of the story where the guilty don’t get caught, or if caught, they don’t get charged, or if charged, they don’t get convicted.

I had to make my point. “And if Kev’s charged or even if the cops are looking at him and they put out an all points bulletin or some public message, then the wrong people will find out he’s in the area.”

That hit home. Mick and Lucky might find Kev a giant boil on the family butt, but he was one of us and he needed to be protected, preferably in someone else’s dwelling.

“So here’s the thing. The guy who was killed was Pierre Gagnon.”

They shrugged together. I swear Walter lifted his shoulders too.

I added, “A suspected hit man.”

Uncle Mick said, “What?”

“You heard right. Hit man.”

“Really? A hit man in Harrison Falls?”

“Burton.”

“Burton? That’s even more ridiculous.”

As there was nothing funny or ridiculous about this, I said, “Let’s say it’s unlikely. So, who killed the hit man? We all agree it couldn’t have been Kev. Not even in self-defense.”

“Kev wouldn’t stand a chance against a hit man.”

“Agreed.”

“So who killed this Pierre whatever his name is?”

“I think it was someone from the Adams family. They flew the coop and my new cop friend—”

“Your what?”

“Candy. Officer Candy Mortakis. She’s been a good source of infor—”

“Cop?”

“I’m sorry, but she already let me into the Adams house, where I found out some interesting stuff. And she’s the one who told me about Pierre Gagnon.”

“Why’s she doing this?” Uncle Mick crossed his arms and glowered, while Uncle Lucky shook his head the way he might if I’d suggested jumping off a high building without a net. “Doesn’t make sense to me.”

“I hear you, but you have to know her to understand. She’s lonely. She’s not from around here and she’s not fitting in with the force. She’s not the greatest cop either, and I doubt if she’ll last long. Anyway, she tells me stuff because she wants to be my friend.”

“We are not friends with cops.” Uncle Mick was still cross-armed. Uncle Lucky still had that look on his face, and even Walter was disapproving.

“I’m not really her friend. I’m just—”

“It’s dangerous and you should know that, Jordan.”

I tuned out the gentle admonitions and tried not to feel rotten about Candy. She genuinely wanted to be my friend, and I was diminishing her and using her information to protect those on the other side of the law. That’s not like me. I’m a straight shooter when it comes to friends. Loyal and steadfast and all that good stuff. I wasn’t comfortable leading her on, not that she gave me much choice. The uncles were right. Cops and Kellys are not an easy mix. But this time I was going to have to make it work. “Well, she’s my pipeline into that investigation and I’m going to make the most of it. We’ll just have to man up. You do realize that if Kev was there, he might have witnessed the hit man being killed. And he could be in danger from whomever killed Pierre Gagnon as well as from the police. We need an inside source.”

Uncle Mick just couldn’t drop the cop angle. “Bad enough that other guy, Tyler Dekker.”

That reminded me. Before I took off on my day’s hunting and gathering with Candy, I had to make an effort to find Tyler Dekker. Where was he? Not at home. Not at work. Not in the hospital.

“Sorry, I have to run,” I said. “Just wanted to fill you in. Maybe you can make inquiries about this Pierre Gagnon. He’s a Canadian, but apparently he has connections in the Albany area. Oh, and Buffalo, I think. It would help if we knew who he worked for. Or who he might have been working for this time. It might have something to do with a family currently named Adams, who went missing along with a large amount of money about three years ago. Is there any way you can nose around without . . .”

Oh boy, as the words came out of my mouth, I realized that would be a mistake. It might attract attention to our family. And put my uncles in danger. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Let me see what I can find out without letting on it’s anything more than idle chat,” Uncle Mick said.

Lucky nodded.

“Well, be careful,” I said.

“We’re supposed to say that to you,” Mick harrumphed.

I made tracks.

• • •

I HAD NO
choice but to go back to Tyler Dekker’s tiny ranch house. Again. This time I had a potted plant as a sort of cover. Every bachelor needs a jade plant. Hard to kill them. I had considered my lock picks, but I figured that woman across the street would dial 911 in a flash. I banged on the door again. This time I planned to leave a message. I was hammering for the third time, and may have shouted something like “don’t make me break the law,” when the door was whipped open and I tumbled in. The jade plant went flying.

Tyler Dekker stared at me—red-faced—as I picked myself up off the floor and stuck the jade plant back in its decorative pot.

“Most people just answer the door on the first or second hammering,” I said. To my astonishment I felt tears sting my eyes. Not because it was embarrassing to have landed on the floor in front of a police officer—I’m made of sterner stuff than that. I realized it was because Tyler Dekker was obviously alive and seemingly well. Apparently, I cared more than I’d been admitting to myself.

The red flush continued to spread up his face. I hoped he’d never try to work undercover until he got that blushing issue under control.