The Morgue and Me (26 page)

“No, not that.”

Her mind spun, trying to catch up. “Oh, well, yeah . . . both of them were Larry’s clients.”

I nodded. “Tina, the day I found those pictures at Mike’s, you were the first person I called. You’re the only person I told.”

She was starting to get it—I could see the guilt in her eyes.

“You were out on the boat with Lovell when I called,” I said. “You told him, didn’t you? You had to.”

“Oh, God . . . Christopher, I’m . . . I’m so sorry. . . I never thought . . .”

He was the only one who knew I had the pictures—the only one besides me, Tina, and Mike. He had to be the one trying to get the pictures back. Suddenly, it was obvious: Lovell had been leading the blackmail scheme all along. He was the “partner” that Abby had talked about in her note. He must have been using Mitch as the contact point, the bag man.

It made sense of everything. For one thing, it explained the two-year gap between the pictures being taken and the scheme coming into effect. Lovell would have been in a good position to know about Kate Warne participating in the bribery, and it wasn’t hard to imagine him documenting her involvement as a kind of insurance policy. Maybe he never would have collected on it if he hadn’t been pushed out of the firm by Kate Warne. I suspected that’s what triggered his decision to go through with it.

But somebody had killed Mitch before they could go through with the blackmail, and so Lovell had used another one of his old clients—Bob—to get the pictures back.

“I didn’t even tell him that much,” Tina said helplessly from the floor of the hallway. “I guess I told him we’d had a big break, that you found some pictures.”

“It would have been easy for him to put it together,” I said. “He already knew we were looking into Mitch’s death.”

“Christopher, I’m so sorry. I thought I really liked the guy—maybe I wanted to impress him, I don’t know. I never thought he had anything to do with this. I never thought he’d be dangerous. . . .”

I offered her a hand up. “I know you never wanted anything to happen to Daniel.”

She stared into the hospital room. “God, this is all my fault.”

“We’re going to get Lovell tomorrow—for now, let’s talk to the patient.”

Tina stared at my chest. “Here, let’s keep you out of trouble,” she said, and stripped off one of her T-shirts.

I walked in wearing something that said MAYBE IF YOU LOSE A FEW.

 

 

Tim’s cheeks had gained some color, and despite the gargantuan bandaging around his stomach area, he looked a lot better than I thought he would. Daniel was engaging him in a discussion about the history of the Pinkerton Detective Agency for some reason, but I didn’t care. I could have listened to Daniel pontificate on the wonders of isosceles triangles with a smile on my face.

We all stood around him while Tim made jokes about how he screwed things up out at the golf course. When it was time for me to take Daniel home, Tina stayed to give Tim the details on what I’d found out from Bob. We agreed to huddle up at Tina’s the next morning to strategize.

“Dude isn’t as much of a pain in the ass as I thought,” Tina whispered when she hugged me good-bye for the night. As Daniel and I walked out, I took a final look back through the window and saw her resting her hand on Tim’s head. He was looking up at her, and there was something in his eyes that—even if I tried—I couldn’t mistake.

 

 

My cell phone rang when we got back in the car. My dad, weak from stress and lack of sleep, told me he’d gotten my message—they were thrilled that Daniel was safe, but getting home would take a while. He and my mom had missed their connection in Denver. The next plane to Detroit wasn’t leaving until morning. It meant they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night.

I had one more day, and it was just enough time.

S
omething was off about Tina’s house. She had scrubbed the kitchen counter to a bright white and cleared most of the debris from her living room. She’d even put out a plate of glazed doughnuts from the bakery. She was scarfing down one of them when I got there at noon, Daniel in tow. I wasn’t about to leave him unsupervised for a second.

Tim sat next to Tina on the couch, with a smaller bandage bulging out from his hip. The night before had put a different stamp on each of us. Tim sat there with a firm jaw, dressed in his police uniform, determined to get something done. Tina was angry, still steaming from Lovell’s betrayal. I was jumpy. Daniel, he was happy as a clam. Tim and Tina gave him a war hero’s greeting before Tina sent him to her spare room so we could talk.

Tim got right down to it.

“So you’re sure it’s Lovell that was blackmailing the mayor and the others?” he said.

“As sure as I can be,” I said. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

He nodded and checked with Tina, who was finishing the last of her doughnut. “He’s right. I wouldn’t bet against the kid,” she said.

“Okay,” Tim said. “What about the thing tonight, in Duncan Woods?”

I’d thought about that. “He’s going through with the blackmail. Tonight’s the exchange—he gives them the pictures, they give him the money.”

I knew I was right. Lovell wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble to get the pictures back if he wasn’t planning on getting something in exchange for them.

“I think Mitch was supposed to do it originally,” I said, explaining my theory. “Lovell probably wanted to use Mitch because the mayor, Kate Warne, and Corbett didn’t know him. It would have kept Lovell out of things.”

Tina nodded. “Right. And he was going to give Mitch part of the action. That’s why Mitch was bragging to the girl at the country club the night he died. That was the score he was about to get rich from.”

I’d almost forgotten Buddy the bartender telling us about that, it seemed so long ago now:
She was young, too, like the man said. But that’s all I know.
I wondered if Abby Shales had really gone to Texas. I hoped she had—I hoped she’d gotten lost in the big state like she said she would.

“Yeah, it makes sense,” Tim said, “but it’s still mostly hunches—we don’t have much evidence. I called my contact at the State Police this morning, and they’re giving me a meeting, even though it’s Saturday and they’re not too happy about coming in. If I can get them here for the exchange tonight, we can get them involved in the case. But I might need something more.”

“I’ve got something,” I said, and turned on my camera. Bob had stolen my computer, and he’d gotten the blackmail pictures back, but he hadn’t taken my camera. I’d been carrying it around with me as usual that day, so I still had my pictures of Mitch’s body. Tim and Tina winced when I showed them. I’d almost forgotten how gory they were.

“That’s no suicide,” I said, and handed the memory card over to Tim.

“That’s good. Okay, I should get going if I’m going to get back here with them.”

“How far are you going?” Tina said.

“Traverse City.”

Her eyes blazed. “That’s an hour’s drive.”

“I know—I told you, I had to go to the state with this. They don’t have offices in every city. I had to go through a Michigan Bureau of Investigation task force—”

“Well, get the hell out of here instead of explaining it all day,” Tina said. “We need them here tonight.”

Tim laughed. “Is she for real?”

“Welcome to my world,” I said, and Tina kicked him to the door before we could gang up on her any more. On his way out to the driveway, he stopped.

“I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get them up here. But whatever happens, promise me you won’t go to Duncan Woods tonight.”

“Of course,” Tina said.

Right. Of course.

 

 

Tina and I watched from the front window as Tim’s police cruiser rolled down the street. Maybe it was like watching your kid go off to college or something, I can’t really say, but it felt like the whole thing was out of our hands now, and it was making me queasy. We were about to gather Daniel up when my pocket buzzed with an incoming call.

Mike again.

Tina looked over my shoulder at the display before I sent it to voice mail.

“He’s got to fit into this somehow,” Tina said. She was going gentle—she knew how close we were. Or how close we’d been.

She was right, though. Now that we knew that Lovell had been Mitch’s partner, it made even less sense that Mike would have the pictures. And it made even less sense why he wouldn’t tell me where he’d gotten them. Those pictures were the reason why Mitch had been killed—so how had they ended up in his hands, if he hadn’t killed Mitch himself?

“I’m going over there,” I said.

 

 

The trees in Mike’s neighborhood grew tall, their leaves meeting high above the twisting road, throwing cooling shade onto the asphalt. The night before was catching up to Daniel; he was crashed out in the passenger’s seat, head bobbing against the window at each tiny bump in the road. I wanted to go home, tuck him in, watch over him.

He stirred when I stopped in the driveway. “I’m just gonna see if he’s home. You okay here?”

He slapped my hand away when I brushed his head on the way out. Good old Daniel.

I heard it from the front door—the blender, churning out another dubious smoothie creation. His quirks used to seem funny, but Mike didn’t make me laugh anymore.

I banged on the door. It took a while for him to hear me, but he came, slowing up when he saw me. He opened the door reluctantly.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey. Can we talk out here, so I can watch Daniel?”

“You got him back?” A thin smile creased Mike’s cheeks when he spied Daniel in the car. He raised an arm but Daniel was oblivious, asleep again.

I nodded. “Is that what you were calling about?”

“Yeah, of course. I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“Anything else?” I said.

“Anything else what?”

“That you want to talk about. Like how you fit into this whole thing.” It was strange talking to him now. My voice was different, even—I was using tones that I used with strangers, teachers, guys from the Petoskey High soccer team who I didn’t particularly like.

Mike shook his head and said it softly: “I can never tell you, Christopher. I just can’t.”

“We’ve got most of it figured out already.” Mike didn’t bite, so I asked him, “Do you know Lawrence Lovell?”

And then Mike said, “I had nothing to do with that guy getting killed, but my advice is to just stay away from the whole thing. Not that you’re going to take it.”

“No, probably not.”

He nodded. “I’m glad you got Daniel back.”

It sounded like a good-bye, so I left.

 

 

We pulled into the driveway at one thirty. An afternoon of waiting stretched out in front of me. Time was funny that day, the way it didn’t budge. I played chess with Daniel, I tried to read, I cleaned up the mess in my bedroom from Bob’s search for the pictures. It felt like I had fit three afternoons into one, but the clocks held back, drawing each minute out torturously.

Every forty-five minutes or so, Tina called with an update. A non-update, I should say—she hadn’t heard from Tim all day.

The calls got more hysterical until six o’clock, when she broached the topic: “If he’s not back, we’re going to Duncan Woods. You know that, right?”

“Tina—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what he said. But you remember what I asked you at the start of this thing?”

“I wouldn’t call it pussing out at this point.”

“Oh, I would,” she said. “Big time.”

At seven thirty she called again, this time with news. “They wouldn’t meet with him till five o’clock, but he says he’s bringing two agents up with him.”

“Agents?”

“Whatever the hell they’re called, I don’t know. Tim said they’re from the Michigan FBI, but he’s waiting there for one of them still. He’s going to be cutting it way too close, so get your ass ready.”

“Umm, for what?”

“We’re doing this, Christopher. We’re going to get pictures of the exchange. Bring your camera, and don’t even think about backing out.”

I wanted to. I wanted to back out in the worst way, but Tina clicked off before I could tell her.

I put down the phone and listened to a tinkering sound coming from the porch. Daniel was playing with an abacus out there; I looked in on him for a second before retreating to my room, sweeping up the last of my books that Bob had knocked to the ground. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Edgar Allan Poe, and a copy of
The Spy Who Came in from the Cold
. I placed them on the desk and sat down heavily on my bed.

You feel like a fraud when your dreams come true and it turns out you don’t want them. I guess I never really wanted to be a spy, not if going to Duncan Woods that night had me scared out of my mind. All that stuff I told myself—wanting to work in the NSA and everything—it was just an excuse to read stories and watch movies. Mike was right all along: I should have gotten out of my head a long time ago.

I texted Tina: BE THERE SOON.

 

 

I brought Daniel to Julia’s at eight thirty. She was the only one I trusted to watch him, and when I told her it was an emergency, she didn’t ask questions. I paused on the front lawn, charging myself up. This was the start of it—the new me.

The front curtains were pulled back. They gave me an angle to the sofa, where Julia had nestled in the corner with her face glowing in the flickering blue light. Julia: high-school nerd, wallflower, best friend, missed chance. Maybe I could make it happen.

Daniel had bounded ahead of me up to the door. Julia heard him knocking and collected herself.

I shot up to the front door and gave Daniel a hug good-bye before he rushed inside like her place was Disneyland.