Deadly Intersections (2 page)

“What?” Molly asked, exasperated.

“That guy standing over there is either going to follow me out of this garage and hit on me or he’s going to stay and hit on you.”

Molly frowned and her eyes found Adonis. Ari knew she hated it when men came on to her. She thought everyone recognized she was a dyke the minute they met her. She didn’t understand how beautiful she was to men and women.

“I don’t have time for any bullshit today,” she murmured, pulling Ari against her for a soft kiss. “Clear enough?” she asked, her voice a ragged whisper.

Ari’s throat went dry. Molly had that effect on her. “Quite.”

They looked toward Adonis who supported himself against the wall. His jaw dropped.

Two hours later they’d cleared the crime scene. Molly turned toward the skyscraper next to the garage and pointed. “Let’s go have a chat with Mr. Wertz and see if he has an alibi for this afternoon.”

They found his office high in the sky and she was automatically suspicious. She had a dislike for the rich and powerful that stemmed from her days on the Spokane police force. A rich white boy had been the cause of her former partner’s death, at least that’s how she’d decided to remember it.
It’s the sense of entitlement and the general attitude that they’re better than the rest of us. That’s what bothers me
.

A receptionist directed them to an inner lobby and Mr. Wertz’s personal assistant, Candy. Molly’s gaydar activated instantly when Candy’s eyes probed
her
body while she ignored Andre, a man who’d been compared to Denzel Washington. Molly doubted he noticed since his gaze never left her voluptuous bosom that was trapped in a too-small silk blouse.

“May I help you?”

She flashed her badge and said, “We need a few minutes with Mr. Wertz about an incident that happened today at Heritage Square.”

“Oh? And if I may ask, how does this involve him?”

She’s good, not a pushover
. Her job was to keep people
out
of his office, and she scrutinized every request.

“He was there,” Andre said curtly. “At the luncheon.”

Candy’s gaze flicked between them, and Molly noticed the slightest shift in her stony expression. “So you’re here about Warren,” she stated. She nodded and pressed a series of buttons on the massive communication system in front of her.

“Mr. Wertz? Some detectives need to speak with you about Mr. Edgington.”

Interesting. He’s Warren to her and Mr. Edgington to Wertz.

She listened to his reply and said, “I’ll send them right in.”

She escorted them into an immense office, and he stood up, offering a perfect smile with his blindingly glistening teeth. When he extended his hand, she noticed the gold and diamond cufflinks at his wrists that matched the band of his Rolex watch.

“Detectives, how can I help you?”

He motioned for them to sit and returned to the imposing chair behind his massive desk. When he leaned back and crossed his legs, Molly realized he wasn’t unusually nervous.
He has nothing to hide or he’s a great actor.

“Mr. Wertz, we’re not sure if you’ve heard. Warren Edgington is dead. He died after the luncheon at Heritage Square.”

He nodded. Obviously the news had climbed the twenty-four floors to his office or he had first-hand knowledge, which was why Molly withheld several pieces of key information.

“It’s terrible,” he said. “Warren and I were business acquaintances. We hadn’t worked together, at least not yet. We were pondering a venture, but we hadn’t made any definite plans.”

“What kind of venture?” Andre asked.

“A land purchase. Warren had a few parcels that I thought might be appropriate for a future Hometown Grocery.”

She waited for the usual grief comments that were typical of these interviews, but he offered nothing except facts.

“We understand you were one of the last people to see him alive at the luncheon.”

He shifted in his seat. “Yes, we spoke. As a matter of fact we had a few harsh words as well about the land deal. By the end of the conversation I wasn’t sure if we could collaborate.”

“How did you end the conversation?” Andre asked.

“We didn’t, really. It got heated so I walked away, intending to call him later.” He chuckled slightly. “I didn’t think it was appropriate to argue outside the restrooms.”

When Molly looked up from her notes, he was waiting for the next question, his gaze moving between her and Andre
.

“Is there anything else?” he asked, trying hard to disguise the impatience in his voice.

“When did you leave the luncheon?” she asked.

“Right after that exchange. The luncheon was over, and people were networking, typical of these events,” he said with a wave. “I was frustrated and returned to my office. I believe it was about one o’clock.”

“Is there anyone who can verify your return?”

He didn’t answer right away as Molly met his stare. He cleared his throat and said, “Fortunately Candy was here so she can vouch for my whereabouts, but most everyone else on this floor takes lunch from twelve-thirty to one-thirty. Any other questions?” he asked emphatically.

“No,” she said, rising from the chair.

He escorted them out with a nod of his head and they set their sights on Candy whose fingers flew across her keyboard. When they stopped in front of her desk, she quickly swiveled in her chair to address them.
Time really is money around here.

“Um, Ms….” Andre started, realizing he didn’t know her last name.

“The name is Candace Narvold, but everyone just calls me Candy,” she said pleasantly.

“Thanks,” he continued. “Were you here today at one o’clock?”

She nodded. “I was. He was at the luncheon so I delayed my lunch hour until he returned.”

“So you saw him return from the luncheon?” Molly asked.

A sly smile crossed her lips. “Yes, I saw him after he arrived back from the luncheon.”

“And you’re sure of the time?” Andre pressed. “You’re certain he was back by one?”

She leaned over the desk and folded her hands. “Detective, I’m quite sure of the time. I was in his office when his cell phone alarm went off. It sounds every day at one to remind him to take his medication.”

“What medication is that?”

She eyed them shrewdly. “I don’t think that’s police business. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

They both shook their heads and headed back down the hallway. Molly glanced at the framed photos that lined the wall, each one depicting the same image—Stan Wertz at the opening of a Hometown Grocery store, preparing to cut a yellow ribbon with an enormous pair of scissors. By the time they reached the elevator she’d lost count at fifteen pictures.

“That’s a lot of stores,” Andre said. “What do you make of him?”

“He’s a cool customer,” she said, punching the button. “He showed no emotion and offered no help. Very hard to read.”

“Do you think Candy’s telling the truth?”

“Do you?”

He glanced back down the hallway at Candy. “I don’t know. If she likes her job then I’ll bet she’d cover for him, but I think she’s telling the truth. Judging from that smile on her face when we asked her where she was at one o’clock, I’d say she was with him in his office. And she wasn’t taking dictation.”

Maria pushed the swing higher until her feet rose above her head and her toes seemed to touch the puffy clouds. Back and forth she soared like the pendulum Mrs. Stimson had shown the class. She glanced at the empty swing next to her. Where was Selena? Maria frowned. Maybe her mama wouldn’t let her out to play. It was Sunday after all, the Lord’s Day. Fortunately Mama believed the Lord got his share in the morning and if she was expected to do chores, then it was okay to play later. She liked Mama’s logic.

In the distance a man wriggled through a hole in the playground fence. He was still far away, and she was certain he’d cut to the right toward the abandoned school that towered before her. Her brother Franco told her it was called the drugstore and junkies went there all the time. She and her friends could play on the swings and monkey bars, and no one would bother them but he said never
ever
go inside. She’d kept her promise to him. The old place gave her the creeps.

She missed Franco. He didn’t live at home anymore. Mama said he was
muerto
because he ran a gang. But he still saw Maria after school sometimes. He told her she was separate from business, and it wasn’t her problem. He loved her no matter what. She still felt bad that Mama didn’t get along with him, and Mama would be mad if she knew that he visited her.

The man was close enough now that she could see he wore a hat, sweatshirt and jeans.  He didn’t walk like a junkie, and he was headed toward her. He stared at his feet as if he didn’t notice she was there.

“Time to go,” she whispered.

The first rule was always to run when a stranger approached. She slowed the swing and prepared to jump as soon as her feet scraped the ground.

“Hey, little girl, can you help me?” the man called. He was hurrying toward her, waving cash, a smile on his face. “I’ll pay you.”

She didn’t buy it. Franco had warned her about strangers.
None
of them are good, hija
.

She jumped and landed in the dirt. When she stood, he was standing before her. There was no point in running now since he could easily catch her. Her gaze went to the twenty dollars in his hand. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe Franco was wrong about
some
strangers.

“What do you need, mister?”

He frowned. “I’m very sorry.”

Her eyes had been focused on the twenty dollar bill. She didn’t notice the barrel of the gun until it was pointed at her.

The polite ringing of a bell signaled an approaching bicyclist and Ari and Molly veered to the right, allowing him to pass. A couple on a tandem quickly followed behind. The congestion on the cement path was heavy because of the incredible weather, and pedestrians and cyclists jockeyed for a place on the thin thoroughfare that surrounded Tempe Town Lake. While everyone on the eastern seaboard braced for miserable cold fronts that would headline the national news, February in Arizona meant hiking in shorts, driving with the top down and a well-deserved afternoon of relaxation. They’d turned off their cell phones, ensuring that the peaceful Sunday afternoon wouldn’t be destroyed by any of Ari’s needy real estate clients or cops looking for Molly to run a homicide investigation.   

Molly nudged Ari’s shoulder with her own. “Hey, where are you?” she asked.

“I’m just amazed by this place,” Ari explained. “When you were growing up did you ever think there would be a
lake
here?”

Molly laughed and shook her head. Both of them were Arizona natives and had spent years crossing the Tempe Bridge over the dusty remains of the Salt River, a tributary that had once been a vital waterway at the turn of the century. Built on the perimeter of Tempe, Phoenix’s sister city, the lake actually sat in the middle of a riverbed that hadn’t seen water in twenty-five years since the great flood of 1980.

As they meandered down the South Bank Path, Molly marveled at the ingenuity of the city planners. The previous mayor who had spearheaded the project was horribly ridiculed by the town council. They’d argued that desert rats didn’t understand lakes, and they certainly didn’t own boats. 

How wrong they were
. She glanced at the shimmering blue water and the white sails that floated past. The area around the lake was a developer’s dream. Ari and her boss had sold a few parcels of the land used for the upscale apartment complexes that sat west of the lake. Only a lone office building hugged the pathway, its curved blue glass facing the lake and the nearby freeway. To the east a crane rested inside a giant pit, a billboard plastered on the chain link fence surrounding the pit advertising lakefront condos. It was only a matter of time before the area was overdeveloped and the lake became another hub of activity in Tempe. 

They strolled on the gravel path, opting to avoid the growing number of cyclists and rollerbladers who inhabited the elevated sidewalk. They turned around at the boat landing and wandered back to Beach Park. Passing under the arch of the Tempe Bridge was eerie, the wheels of the cars overhead chugging along the old ruts of the bridge’s lanes. The foot path expanded into the grassy areas of the park and Splash Playground.  They found a bench and listened to squeals of glee as rambunctious kids clad in shorts and T-shirts darted in and out of the arching water jets, all the while shivering in the mid-sixties temperatures. Children bounded from water cannons to the small slide disguised inside a large rock and then went to play in the sand nearby. 

Molly gazed at Ari, who watched the children intently, amused by their antics. Ari certainly seemed to enjoy kids. When they visited her niece and nephew, Ari was the one who never tired of reading stories, playing baseball or having tea with the dollies. She wondered if Ari wanted a child of her own, a thought she personally couldn’t fathom. She’d not mentioned the subject. In fact there were many subjects she’d delicately sidestepped, too petrified to handle emotional intimacy. Physical intimacy was one thing—and with Ari there were no boundaries—but sharing her greatest fears and vulnerabilities was nearly impossible. She kept those buried deep inside a whiskey bottle.