Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 01 - Murder Off the Books (7 page)

“Sit down, Samuel, and start talking,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. “Why are you here?”

A brief exchange of glances between the two teens convinced Rachel that the unexpected visit home was more than the need to catch up with old friends.

“Would you believe I had a lot of laundry and no quarters?”

Rachel shook her head. “Yes, but you also have enough underwear to last at least two more weeks, so try again.”

“Uncle Dan’s in trouble,” Sam said hesitantly.

“What do you know about it?”

“He emailed me. He’s being set up for murder
….” Sam lifted his chin, adding, “And he didn’t do it.”

“Even if that’s true, he had no right involving you two.” She ignored their protests and walked back into the hallway. She took hold of the garbage bag she’d tripped over earlier, dragging it into the den.

“Mom,” Sam protested, jumping back as she dumped the dirty clothes onto the carpet next to his bare feet. “We’re his family. We have to help; that’s one of those laws of nature or something.”

“A social contract,” Ray suggested, looking over the mound of clothes.

Sam gave his friend a surprised look, then turned back to his mother. “Yeah, it’s what Ray said–a social contract. We have to help him.”

“Fine. If he shows up, I’ll help him: I’ll feed him a meal; I’ll give him a bed; and I’ll even do his laundry.” Rachel held out her son’s once white t-shirt. The front was now covered with a dark red stain. “Is this blood?”

“Barbeque sauce. There was a party at a fraternity house and–”

“Stop. That’s enough information.” Rachel tossed the shirt in the pile that would need soaking. “About the other thing–I don’t want you involved. Your uncle needs to go to the police and tell them what he knows.”

“He can’t go to the cops. They’ve got all kinds of evidence that makes him look guilty of stealing and murder.”

Rachel calmly finished her sorting and picked up a pile of dirty jeans.

Trying to help, Ray scooped up the pile of whites, wrinkled his nose, and hurriedly shoved the clothes in Sam’s direction.

Rachel headed for the laundry room, calling over her shoulder, “Ray, how are you involved in all this?”

“Sam called me from school after he heard from Uncle Dan.”

Rachel nodded. “And?”

Ray shrugged. “Sam told me to call Carrie and that we should meet him here around seven o’clock. After dinner we’re going to break into the college computer system and get some hidden files that Uncle Dan needs to prove his innocence.”

Rachel whipped her head around and stared at the pair in disbelief. “What?”

Sam gave her a weak smile. “If you don’t feel like cooking we can order take-out.”

Chapter 8

Whiskey barked, getting to her feet as Mac approached down the tiled corridor of the funeral home basement.

“Hey, girl. Did Jeff put you to work guarding the new arrivals?” Mac patted the dog’s head, laughing as she tilted her head so he’d scratch behind her ears.

“Like most ladies, she was enjoying the pleasure of my company.” Jeff O’Herlihy stepped out of the cooler, shutting the door before Mac got a look at the contents. “Something wrong with the cab I loaned you?”

“No. It’s fine. Well, the upholstery could use some work. And the suspension’s shot. Got anything better?”

Jeff smirked. “Not at the moment. What’s the problem? Customers complaining?”

“Not mine.” Mac grinned. “How about yours?” He sidestepped the aging redheaded imp and opened the walk-in cooler door. “What are you hiding in here? Or who are you hiding in here? Did you knock off the cockroach king?”

“Hardly.” Jeff flipped on the cooler light. Instead of bodies, the shelves were stacked with about fifty cartons labeled “USDA Grade A Prime Rib” and a few cases of beer.

Mac grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”

Jeff smiled and grabbed two beers. “See, that’s why I didn’t want to show you. I knew you would freak out over the details instead of looking at the big picture.”

“You’ve got meat stored in your mortuary cooler. That’s freaky by any normal person’s standards. I’m almost positive that it’s against some law.” Mac took a closer look. “Where did you get all this?”

“Don’t worry it won’t be here long. A semi broke down over near the National Mall. Company needed to unload it fast before the Park police impounded it–and their truck. The driver had one of my cards, they called and I came to their rescue. Got all this for less than half of fair market value.”

“Your cards? The driver had a card for O’Herlihy Funeral Homes and thought calling you was a good idea?” Mac declined the beer Jeff held out.

“No, not those cards. I told you I was branching out.” Jeff set down the beers and dug a business card out of his wallet, tossing the detective an embossed, burgundy-colored square. “These cards. The color was Sean’s idea. Easy to find if you’re carrying a lot of business cards.”

Mac squinted at the fine print. “O’Herlihy Solutions–call us if you’ve got a transportation problem.”

“Catchy, isn’t it!” Jeff snagged one of the beers and ushered his friend out of the cooler. “If I can’t handle the problem, I’ve got a string of subcontractors to help. My business is about to double. I may even catch something I can pass on to you. Generate some income so you can decorate that dump of an office you moved into. Maybe you could even hire someone to answer your phones.”

“I see you’ve been talking to Sean.” Mac chuckled. “I’m supposed to tell you that he was gainfully employed for a couple of hours earlier today hauling furniture into my dumpy office.”

“Good. I keep hoping he’s going to get interested in something besides fishing. He wants a new truck instead of the car I got him. But this time I’m gonna make him pay for half. He can work for me or flip hamburgers, I don’t care.”

“He’s just young.” Mac smiled. “Give him a few years. Maybe he’ll go into decorating. He seems to have an interest in that area.”

Jeff popped the top on the beer and took a swallow. “A few years ago that thought might have scared me to death. Now not so much. I’m enlightened. Besides….” He grinned. “Decorators make good money.”

Mac laughed. “Speaking of making money, I’ve got to get going. Thanks again for the use of the cab.”

“So you’re going back to work?”

“Yeah. I just stopped by to pick up Whiskey. Thanks for watching her by the way.”

“No problem. Drop by tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to my new office manager.”

Mac smiled. “I just might do that.”

***

Rachel nibbled at the orphaned heel of garlic bread that had been lying in the breadbasket. She wiped it through the puddle of clam sauce in the bottom of the pasta bowl, the remnants of the hastily thrown together dinner. She swallowed the morsel as she stacked the dirty dishes into the sink. It was too quiet in the house now that the kids had left to go to the movies. Thank God, she’d talked them out of getting involved in Dan’s mess.

The phone rang, breaking the silence.

“Hello.” She cradled the phone against her shoulder while rinsing the silverware.

“Is this Rachel Brenner?” The voice was low, muffled, like the caller was using a cell phone inside a building.

“Yes, who is this?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter. Is your brother Dan Thayer?”

“Yes. Can you talk louder?” Rachel reached for the pen and pad of paper she kept by the phone. She decided that the caller was a woman, but she didn’t recognize the voice. “What-what do you want?”

“I have something….” The voice trailed off and there was silence.

Rachel strained to hear. She picked up the faint sounds of two voices–a conversation, then nothing.

“Hello?” Rachel yelled into the phone, frightened that she’d lost the connection. “Are you still there?”

“I have something that Dan needs. Where is he?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him,” Rachel said, deciding not to tell the anonymous caller about Dan’s e-mail. “What do you want to give my brother?”

“Never mind. I need to give it to Dan. He’ll know what to do with it. I’ll try his apartment again.”

“Listen, you can trust me. I’ll give it to him,” Rachel pleaded

“Dan talked about you a lot.” There was a pause and then the caller softly added, “We didn’t always get along, but he showed me a photo he kept on his desk. He loves that kid of yours.”

Rachel was surprised, not by the emotions Dan felt for Sam, but that he’d talk about her at all. With tears threatening to overflow, she ground the heel of one hand against her eyes. “Then tell me where you are,” Rachel whispered. “I’ll come to you…please. I’m so scared for Dan.”

The silence again unnerved her.

Finally, the caller said, “I have to get it from my office. Meet me in the far corner of the parking lot next to Concordia’s gym. Do you know where that is?”

“I’ll find it. Wait for me, please. It’ll take me about 20 minutes to get there.”

Again silence, and then, “I’ll be waiting. But if you bring anyone….”

“I won’t. I promise.” Rachel listened for a response but the woman disconnected the call.

***

“Wow, so much for having to sneak in!” Sam said, looking at the throngs of people going in and out of the computer lab.

“Hey, Carrie.”

Carrie turned and saw a young woman with long dark hair approaching them on the sidewalk, her arms filled with a computer.

“Hi, Tia. What’s happening?”

The young woman awkwardly shifted the computer equipment. “There’s some kind of problem with all the new computers–something to do with the networking cards and memory. There was a major crash just before 3 P.M. You should have heard the screaming. The rumor is that Ms. Fieldstone threatened to fire Ms. Adams. So Ms. Adams told all the department heads that she’d have them fixed tonight, if they’d send their units over. So the department heads–notice you don’t see any of them hanging around here–packed the student aides off with the computers, totally ignoring that we might have a life and important plans for this evening.”

Carrie gave the girl a commiserating smile at the same time she gave Sam a nudge with her elbow. “You still working in the Accounting Office? Things must be weird over there with Mr. Malwick getting murdered.”

Sam took the hint and held out his hands. “Tia, let me hold that for you.”

“Thanks.” Tia gave him the computer and turned back to Carrie. “Weird doesn’t even come close to covering it. I don’t mind Malwick being gone. That guy gave me the creeps. But Mrs. Lopez has been worse than usual. She never has understood that being on work/study means that sometimes I work and sometimes I have to study or do other things.”

 “Why don’t you ask to be reassigned?” Carrie questioned.

“I did, but I think old lady Lopez did something with the paperwork. It’s been weeks since I filled out the request. I’m filling out another one and this time I’m gonna walk it over to the V.P.‘s office myself. I tell you, my social life has definitely tanked since I got assigned to work there. It’s amazing that I was chosen–”

“Is the computer fixed?” Ray asked, trying to move the conversation along.

Tia nodded. “Yeah, finally. I’m going to miss a party the football jocks are having. That new quarterback can’t run but he is really–”

Carrie interrupted, asking, “We’re not busy. Do you want us to take the computer back to the Accounting office for you?”

Tia grinned and quickly handed over a set of keys.

***

“Whoa. Just a second. I need to see some ID,” demanded the aging, bald security guard in the Administration building.

Carrie snuck a quick glance at Sam and Ray. Sam was carrying the computer.

 “We’re just bringing back the computer for the Accounting Department,” Carrie said quickly. “It’s for–”

“I don’t care who it’s for. I need to see some ID and you have to sign in. It’s after 6 P.M. and ever since the
….” The guard waved his hand to finish the thought.

“Of course. The security must be so tight since
….” Carrie said, stalling for time.

“Damn right. It’s tighter than a fat lady’s girdle. Every time I turn around there’s another bigwig poking his nose into who has access to what and where everyone is. They don’t seem to understand that I’m not like those lightweights guarding the other buildings,” he patted his holstered gun. “Millie and I have this place locked down tight.”

“Millie?” Carrie asked, wondering if there was a second guard to worry about.

“My gun. The prettiest .38 caliber you’d ever want to know,” he said. “Millie and I’ve been together for more than twenty years. She never leaves my side.”

“Cool.” Carrie forced a smile, hoping the man wasn’t actually issued bullets for his, uh…Millie. “But the thing is…I left my ID in the car and we’re just doing a favor for Tia. Do you know Tia Hu? Works in Accounting?”

“The one old Vince Malwick was chasing? Asian girl with skirts shorter than the hair on top of Kojak’s head?” The guard laughed hard at his own joke.

Carrie joined in even though she didn’t have a clue who that guy, Kojak, was. “That’s the girl.”

“Look just sign in and don’t go anywhere but to the Accounting office.”

“No problem.” Carrie picked up the pen by the book. “I’ll sign us all in.”

“It’s a regular damn convention here tonight,” the guard grumbled. “Half the administration is in. I’ve already gotten chewed out by the Vice President, the Dean, that bitch from Computers, even some guy who claimed he’s on the Board of Trustees. What’s his name
?” The guard looked down the open page. “Starling. Hell, I don’t know why everyone is so concerned about that idiot Malwick. Whoever offed him did the world a favor; the guy tried to force me to retire twice.”

“What’s happening tonight?” Carrie asked as she turned the book away from the guard and signed in Jim Carrey, Adam Sandler, and Gwyneth Paltrow.

“Emergency meeting because of the–”

“Of course,” Carrie said quickly, putting down the pen, and deliberately smudging the signatures as she brushed her hand across the ink. “Thanks.”

The three teens hustled over to the nearest staircase.

“Since when does Gwyneth Paltrow have purple hair?” Sam whispered.

Carrie smiled. “She would if she had any sense of style.”

***

“Please, please, please start,” Rachel prayed as she turned the key in the ignition of the Blue Dog. A brief whirring noise was followed by silence.

“Shit.” She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath, she tried the key again, but this time, there wasn’t even a sound. “Shit, shit, shit.”

She thought for a moment, then hastily unlocked the door. Feeling the bite of cold raindrops against her face, she grabbed an umbrella she kept in the vehicle, and headed to the front of the house and the long walk up to
Connecticut Avenue where she hoped to find a cab. To her surprise, a yellow taxi was parked in front of the Wilsons. She broke into a run, yanked open the back door of the cab, and hopped in without a moment’s hesitation.