Searching for Secrets (15 page)

Kirk stooped to pick up the pencil he had dropped upon hearing the diminutive Hattie's apt description of Freddy. "You're under no obligation to open your door to him."

"I would not. My neighbor was here, she let him in." She leaned forward and looked earnestly at Kirk. "You can bet he wanted to see if I would accuse him of having anything to do with Charley’s murder. I think if he thought I'd cause him trouble he'd send me to my maker.”

"If he bothers you, call us,” Kirk said. “So, you did or did not see him in the days before Charley died?"

"He was here that night. I told the police that. You know they picked him up, don't you? But they had to let him go." She pursed her lips. "Damn shame."

Christa could tell Kirk wanted her to give him just the facts, but he was doing his best to be polite. "Did you hear what Freddie and Chas talked about?" Kirk asked.

"Charley wanted some money from him, which was odd. Usually Charley gave him money." Her shoulders sagged slightly, but she seemed to will herself to sit up straighter. "Do you know Chas had started using drugs?"

"Yes. Was Freddy his supplier?"

"I assume so. Charley was a good boy until he met Freddy Chambers. He stayed here instead of the dorm, to keep me company. Always let me know if he was going to be out late. Didn't ask permission, mind you, but let me know so I wouldn't worry." She paused, and a faint smile crossed her lips. Christa sensed she was remembering happier times. "But once he started taking that stupid methamphetamine or whatever you call it, he was very different."

Hattie gestured to the hardwood mantle that stood above her fireplace. "At first, he had a lot of extra energy. I didn't know why, of course, so at the time I thought it was great. He refinished that mantle, and he painted my bedroom. Then," she frowned, "he got very moody. I would say even... paranoid. Thought professors were deliberately trying to flunk him, believed the two young women downstairs were spies. Never said for whom."

After several seconds of silence, Kirk gently prodded her. "Was there anything else you remember besides Charley wanting money from Freddy?"

"No, just that he seemed angry. Oh, yes. I believe Freddy invited him to a Halloween party."

"A party?" Kirk and Christa spoke in unison.

"Yes." She nodded. "He said Charley needed to make sure and get some work done before Halloween, so they could make the delivery and party afterwards."

"You've been a big help," Kirk said as he pocketed his small notebook. "I hope the next time I talk to you it's to tell you Freddy Chambers is behind bars." He gave her his card.

As they pulled away from the curb, Christa looked back at Hattie Isbell standing in the door of her small house. Was that what her life would be like at that age? Alone, with no family and apparently so few friends that you had to stay home and watch TV all day? She shuddered at the thought.

"Is that cop humor?" The words came out more caustically than she had intended, and she saw him stiffen. "I didn't mean it as a barb. I was just thinking about how...lonely Mrs. Isbell looked."

"She lost her grandson. We can't bring him back, but we can get Freddy Chambers behind bars. We better do it quickly. If he had an inkling that she gave us useful information, Freddy'd kill her in no time."

LUNCH AT THE sandwich shop, opposite the mall, was just what Kirk needed. Seeing Mrs. Isbell's pain at the loss of her grandson brought back so many memories of Timmy, or Tim as he had wanted to be called the last couple years. Tim laughing as he opened Christmas presents only last year. Tim with the intense expression he had as he drove in with a dribble to make a basket. Tim in the casket, with Frances sobbing as Kirk pulled her away so the funeral director could close it for the last time before the burial.

He had thought of Chas Johnson as just another drug user who would steal to support his habit. To Mrs. Isbell, he was Charley who painted the mantle and kept her company. How many lives had Freddy ruined by introducing young people to the immediately addictive meth? He needed to catch Fast Freddy as much for Chas as for Tim.

Kirk studied Christa as she took a sip of water to wash down the two over-the-counter pain tablets. Kirk knew she had something stronger to take, but she had said she was tired of being woozy. Woozy was fine with him. Even in her loose-fitting cotton sweater, an accommodation to her cast, her exquisite shape was hard to miss. He could still feel the softness of her lips on his last night. If it hadn't been for that foul odor, he would have had her on that bed in a minute. Or maybe not. Sometimes he thought she responded to his rising interest, and other times it seemed as if she would just as soon that he stay at arm's length.

"Earth to Kirk." Christa laughed as she said it. "Would that be Captain Kirk?"

Kirk gently threw the wadded paper napkin across the table. "Do you have any idea how many times I've heard those Trekkie jokes?"

"I wouldn't even hazard a guess." She laughed again, and Kirk wondered what had put her in such a good mood all of a sudden.

"Are you ready to get back on the detective trail, Admiral Heckertt?" he asked, continuing the silly banter.

Her eyes sparkled. "Ooh, Admiral. That means I'm in charge."

"Poor word choice, I can see." Kirk put some change on the table for a tip. "We need to find where those two young women live now. Let's see if the off-campus housing staff at the university can tell us."

Christa's light mood left as quickly as it came. "Good idea." She struggled slightly to get into her sweater, and Kirk almost offered to help. No, Christa Heckertt would rather do it herself. Just as she had insisted that they split the check rather than the lunch be his treat. He half-grinned in amusement.

"It gives me the willies to go into this garage," Christa said as they walked up the ramp toward her car.

"Can't say as I blame you." He placed one hand lightly behind her back to guide her a little to the right as the reached the top of the level. Was it his imagination, or did she seem to lean into his touch? "Be assured that no one has ever knocked me around in here." He flexed his left bicep, in jest, and was surprised to see Christa draw in her breath and look away. Now what did I say? Is it sexist to flex your muscles?

His thought was interrupted by the screech of tires and the dark green van coming at them. Kirk grabbed Christa and flung her on the hood of the nearest car, shielding her with his torso. He swung his legs onto the hood just in time to avoid getting them crushed by the careening van. The same van!

There were several seconds of stillness, and Kirk became aware of feet running toward them. Then the figure under him spoke. "If it's safe, could you get off my cast, please?"

He jumped from the car and gently put his arm around Christa to help her sit up so he could slide her to the ground. Her eyes met his, and he detected faint humor. "They might not knock you around, but they tried to run you over."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

KIRK'S CAPTAIN MIGHT NOT WANT HIM in the police station for awhile, but at the rate they were going, there would be at least a daily visit. She still couldn't understand the inordinate amount of time it took to do the paperwork when you reported something. If Hadley had been around, he would have handled a lot of it and they could leave. But, he was on duty in another part of the city.

Christa sat on the hard wood bench and sipped the hot coffee the sergeant at the desk had finally brought her. She watched as two officers entered the lobby area and walked to the security keypad that hung on the wall near the door. One of them tapped in a code that released the lock on what she presumed was the bullet-proof glass door. She found it ironic that they, who could protect themselves with weapons and wore bullet-proof vests, could get into the inner sanctum, but she--the target of some unknown assailant--sat in plain view in the public lobby. She thought it was part of Kirk's attempt to be sure she couldn't learn more than he wanted to tell her.

All she knew was that the police had found the van several blocks from the mall garage, its engine still idling. It had different license plates than were on it when its occupants shot at Kirk. Smart. She wondered why they had bothered to try to run them down when they were close enough to shoot them. Maybe the garage was too crowded and they didn’t want to roll down the window and risk being recognized.

Kirk pushed the metal buzzer and let himself out of the secure work section and into the waiting area. "Still not enough to pick up Freddy for additional questioning in the Johnson murder. Plus the captain's pissed at me because he knows I'm not just home relaxing." He slumped next to Christa on the bench. "Got any of those non-prescription pain relievers? That's the second time in two days that somebody's gotten my muscles bent out of shape."

He extended a hand while Christa opened her small pill box. She wouldn't mind rubbing those sore muscles. Instead, all she said was, "It's 3:30. If we want to get to the student housing office, we need to hustle. I think they close at 4:30."

Kirk nodded as he took her Styrofoam coffee cup and downed the tablets. "Onward and upward." He stood and extended a friendly hand.

Christa let him guide her from the bench, but she dropped his hand as soon as she stood. No sense getting used to his touch.

THREE HOURS LATER THEY HAD MADE LITTLE PROGRESS. Christa unlocked the door of her apartment. Brandy scurried up, anxious to be petted and fed. With Kirk waiting in the car, Christa moved quickly. She was just here to grab some clothes and scoop Brandy into her pet crate and take her to the kennel for a couple of days. It was Kirk's idea, a good one. Drug dealers had no scruples and would easily kill or maim her cat to get back at her.

She hauled the crate from the top shelf of her bedroom closet. On seeing it, Brandy dove under the bed. So much for an easy job of getting her into the carrier. Christa carried it into the kitchen and sat it on the floor. She would open a can of food, and the odor would soon attract the always-ravenous cat. As she pulled the tab to open the can her eyes fell on the half-eaten cupcake sitting on the counter, one of the ones Amy and Frances had brought over a few days ago. She had cleaned up after they ate breakfast, hadn't she? She froze. Someone had been in the apartment, maybe still was.

Slowly, she turned and looked behind her. Seeing no one, she relaxed somewhat. She sat the can on the floor, and walked quickly out of the apartment. Whoever it was must be gone. Brandy would never have come bounding up to greet her if there were a stranger in the apartment. Christa leaned out of the door to the building and gestured that Kirk should come in. He had remained in the car because Christa said it would be easier to manage Brandy without a relative stranger around. He probably thought she needed 'feline assistance,' as he had earlier dubbed his offer to help.

"I think someone's been in my unit," she said as he entered the building's small foyer. "Doesn't seem as if they're there now."

Kirk put one finger over his lips and then drew a weapon from the holster under his sweater. For a brief moment she wondered if other off-duty officers drew their weapons this often. Concentrate on what you're doing. She started to follow him down the steps, but he gestured that she should stay behind. Christa considered ignoring him, but decided she didn't want to get in the way of any more gunfire.

He stood to one side of the door and gingerly reached over to turn the knob. A split second later he kicked the door so hard it swung around and banged on the interior wall. With Brandy screeching as she ran from him, Kirk entered, looking from side to side. Christa followed a few seconds later. She was convinced that whoever had been in the unit had left. She heard Kirk rapidly opening and shutting closet doors.

Her attention was drawn to the stairs in the main hallways. Whoever was coming down from the level above hers was doing so at a run. Christa opened her own door in time to see the building door swinging rapidly back and forth. "Kirk, you better..."

But he was already moving past her, taking the steps two at a time. Christa shut the door so Brandy would not follow them and started up the steps. The screech of tires sounded, and she peered out the door.

"Damn it all to hell!" The anger in his voice told her Kirk was okay. He stood looking in frustration at the slashed tires on Christa's car. Kirk jogged back toward her. "I'll call it in. I hope you have good insurance."

Christa stared at the car for a moment before following him inside. There had to have been two of them, one waiting in a car they started when Kirk came inside. She shivered.

When Kirk finished giving the partial license plate number to the 9-1-1 operator Christa flipped open the yellow pages. They were just going to have to deal with a rental car company that would come and pick them up.

At that hour, none of them would, of course, so Hadley stopped at the kennel before he drove them the rest of the way into town, where Christa and Kirk would stay at the centrally-located Slumber Inn. Hadley had tried to get them to stay with him, but Christa had quickly deflected the offer. At least at the hotel they would have separate rooms with private baths. She imagined a bachelor police officer's quarters were second-rate, at best. And after her restless sleep the previous night, Christa needed a good night's rest. Of course, Kirk Reynolds would still be on the other side of the wall, but at least he wouldn't be sleeping on her sofa in her living room.