Major Crimes Read online

  “Not everyone.”

  “Really? Who didn’t like him?”

  “I’m sure his ex-wife, Martha, didn’t like him too much.”

  “He left her so many years ago, it doesn’t seem likely that she would kill him now.”

  “I never said she did! I just said she probably didn’t like him very much. And did he leave her or vice versa?”

  “It probably doesn’t matter. Who else didn’t like him?”

  “Our business administrator, Vin, didn’t like him much. They sometimes butted heads. He could be real mean to others too. He always made digs about Dira. ‘A few sprinkles short of a donut’ is what he would say. He had her transferred out of the police department because he didn’t like her—she didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I found it interesting that Bryce perceived Archie as well liked. Bonnie obviously didn’t feel the same. Nor did some of her co-workers. My parents thought he was a nice enough guy. But if he wasn’t so nice to everyone, I wondered if there was someone he pissed off enough to kill him.

  Bryce was fast asleep on the couch. So I stayed on the phone with Bonnie, collecting information about Archie and potential suspects. She knew a couple of his favorite places, names of some of his family members, and how I could find his former wife. She also tipped me off that a grievance had been filed against Archie recently. Now that sounded like a good motive for murder. It could also explain why Archie was retiring. Maybe he wasn’t retiring by choice, but was being forced out instead.

  The reason for the grievance would have to wait. Bonnie had to get off the phone. I asked her to call me back with any details she could find about the grievance. She promised and we disconnected.

  I pulled the afghan crocheted by my grandmother from the back of the couch and covered Bryce with it. He seemed so comfortable that I didn’t want to wake him. I retreated to my bedroom with my laptop so I could see if the Internet had any information about the grievance or the reason for Archie’s retirement. Returning my mother’s phone call was on my list of things to do, but I thought it best to wait until she had a chance to calm down. She’d be able to give me more information about Archie if she wasn’t as distraught.

  * * *

  Time flew while surfing the Net. That was one thing I enjoyed about my job—I loved research. Uncovering a mystery was exhilarating for me. The grievance was from a woman named Tina Liara. Gender discrimination. She claimed she was mistreated based upon her being a woman. Demoted. Disgruntled. But a reason for murdering someone? Perhaps. Her name went on my list. I found a picture of her on Facebook and I printed it out.

  She looked young. Not long out of the police academy, no doubt. She was also pretty. I imagined she was strong. A woman had to be strong in both body and mind to be a cop—unlike me. I was certainly headstrong, but I wasn’t winning any Olympic medals—unless you considered arguing with a toddler at bedtime a spectator sport.

  Most of Tina’s Facebook profile was blocked. Typical cop, doesn’t trust anyone. In the profile picture, she had a killer body too—no pun intended. I didn’t remember her from when I worked at Coral Beach. Maybe she was a new recruit.

  After several hours of research, I tiptoed into the living room. Bryce was snoring. I cracked open the back door to let Snickers sniff the yard. He quickly found a worthy spot to relieve himself. I let him back inside and fed him. Then I made a quick turkey sandwich for dinner and grabbed a glass of water before retreating to my bedroom.

  My cell phone buzzed. It was Randy.

  I put down my sandwich. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t trust Randy as it was, so it wouldn’t have surprised me if something bad happened or if he was already tired of being a father. Mandy wasn’t easy at times.

  “Nothing’s wrong, why would you think that?” Yeah, why would I think that?

  “Is Mandy okay?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Then let me talk to her.”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “So, what can I do for you, Randy?”

  “I know you said you wanted Mandy back by Wednesday morning, but is there any possible way you’d let her stay with me until Sunday?”

  My blood boiled. I definitely did not want him keeping Mandy until Sunday. The suggestion made me furious. Who did Randy think he was? He was the person who shirked his parental responsibilities for three years. And here he was, trying to…what? Make up for lost time?

  “Well?” I couldn’t blame Randy for breaking the silence.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “My parents really want to see her. I wanted to take her to New York to visit with them. I could call you every night if that would make you feel more comfortable.”

  I remained silent for an eternity while I contemplated Randy’s request. I didn’t want Randy to keep Mandy. I missed her. Then my mind drifted to the man sleeping on my couch. I certainly didn’t want to expose Mandy to the situation at hand. Letting Randy keep Mandy until the weekend would provide more time for me to help Bryce. Except Bryce’s issues weren’t my problem. I owed Bryce nothing, and I owed my daughter whatever was in her best interest. So was letting Mandy stay with Randy in her best interest?

  Mandy hadn’t had a father figure in her life. Could Randy be a good dad to her? Maybe “could” wasn’t the right word. Would he be a good dad? That was the question. Or would he confuse her by coming around for a little while and then abandoning her again? How could I protect her from that? I couldn’t.

  Would my allowing her to stay longer go a long way toward keeping the peace with Randy? Or would he hold it against me down the road, if we end up in court over custody? If we ended up in court, would I see Mandy even less often than I do now that Randy is back?

  It would be good for Mandy to get to know her other grandparents. They had mailed presents to her for holidays and birthdays, but since they lived three hours away, they hadn’t come to see her. With Randy having left us, I’m sure they felt awkward. I had nothing against them. They were good people.

  I sighed. “You can keep her this time, but I’d really like to sit down with you and work out a regular schedule that we stick to if that’s what you want.”

  “Great. Wonderful. Of course. Whatever you want to do.”

  “And yes, I would like you to call every day, but when Mandy’s awake, so I can hear her voice. I do miss her.”

  “Consider it done.”

  We hung up and it took me forever to stop thinking about how I wouldn’t see Mandy until Sunday. My heart felt heavy. Wiping my tears away, I turned my attention back to the one thing that would help distract me—Archie’s murder.

  I reorganized my list of suspects into three categories: those with motive, those with access, and those least likely to have murdered Archie. Those with motive were Archie’s ex-wife Martha, Coral Beach’s administrator Vin, Bonnie’s assistant Dira, and Tina, the disgruntled employee. Not that someone should have a motive for just not liking the guy, but I had to start somewhere. Those with access were Bryce, Archie’s wife Pamela, and Archie’s teenage daughter, so far.

  My list of those least likely to have murdered Archie was enormous. Everyone who went to the retirement party was on it—Bonnie, my parents, other employees, friends of Archie, relatives, and at least fifty law enforcement officers. I decided not to focus on that list. Too many people and not worth my efforts to research them all. Not to mention I was short on time. Bryce couldn’t stay hidden for long, and I had to remove myself from the investigation in less than a week when my daughter returned.

  Bryce needed to give me a suspect list. I wanted to know who left the party and traveled with the guys to Savoy’s. I anticipated interviewing the bartenders to find out if they saw anything or anyone strange. I started a list of things to accomplish. Talking Bryce into seeking help from an expert was one of them. Freddy would help. Speaking to my mother about what she knew and learning more about Tina were also top priorities. Archie’s new employer needed to be checked out as well. Could there
have been someone else who wanted that job? Someone who would’ve killed to get it?

  By ten o’clock, my eyelids drooped and my pillow beckoned me to rest. I fell asleep thinking about the big day ahead of me. I planned on rising early to get a good head start. I tried to stop my mind from thinking about Bryce’s good looks, great body, and sexy dimples, but I didn’t have a lot of luck with that.

  Chapter 4

  Bryce

  The sun’s rays through the blinds seared through my eyelids. After a moment of delirium, I remembered I had fallen asleep on the couch at Chelsey’s house. Sitting up, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and wondered if Chelsey was awake. My Movado said it was eight in the morning. Snickers stared at me like I was lunch.

  “What’s the matter, boy? Chelsey didn’t feed you?”

  Snickers tilted his head and wagged his tail. With Snickers on my heels, I dragged myself into the kitchen and found he hadn’t eaten his food.

  “Here’s your food, boy.”

  Snickers tilted his head again. I found where Chelsey kept the K-Cups and rummaged through them for one that wasn’t flavored. No luck. I popped a French vanilla into the Keurig and waited for magic to happen in my mug. It didn’t smell all that bad. A little caffeine running through my veins was an immediate need.

  Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed the ring. The first thing I did when I gained access to Chelsey’s house the previous day was put it into a plastic bag. Contaminating it further wasn’t in my best interest. I wondered how I could get it tested for DNA. Most of the residue would probably be Archie’s blood. DNA tests were expensive and I didn’t have the luxury of using the government’s dime to pay for it.

  The ring was unusual. It wasn’t a wedding ring. White gold with five rubies protruding from it. Hand crafted. Maybe I didn’t need DNA testing. Maybe a local jeweler would know more about it and lead me to its owner. If it wasn’t made in the area, an interrogation of local jewelers would prove futile. If I was working on a normal case, I could’ve posted the ring on social media to see if anyone recognized it. But in my situation, that wasn’t going to happen.

  I thought long and hard about who could’ve killed Archie. Three guys had accompanied Archie and me to Savoy’s. Two were trustworthy. The third I didn’t know. A friend of Archie’s nicknamed “Solar.” He was top on my list to check out.

  There were a random few who knew we’d be at Savoy’s. It wasn’t something we had planned, so my bets were on either one of the guys at Savoy’s or someone who targeted Archie at the retirement party, overheard where we were going, and followed us there. Chelsey’s theory that it could’ve been the wife or child was dead wrong. No pun intended. For fear of hurting her ego, I didn’t tell her she was on the wrong track…but she was.

  The murder couldn’t have been random. Too much planning was involved for someone to get a date rape drug and set up a cop as the fall guy. Judging by the number of stab wounds, it had to be someone who loathed him. Couldn’t have been a robbery gone wrong. No. Not a robbery. Someone knew the vic. Someone fueled by rage. Or heartbreak or revenge.

  I borrowed Chelsey’s computer to do a preliminary check on Solar. His real name was Solomon Aaron Ritter. Without access to the county’s computer networks, I doubted I would find a criminal history. What I did find was interesting. Sol’s parents were stabbed to death in their home thirty-five years prior, when Sol was a teenager. He was cleared of any wrongdoing, but the perps remained at large. I wondered if Sol had a temper. Did the police let the wrong guy go? Did Archie betray Solar in some way?

  I perused the Internet for info about the other two guys that came with us and found nothing unusual. Carl was in his thirties, married, two kids. Drew was in his forties. Carl was a cop. Drew was a municipal clerk. Honest men. I couldn’t see a motive there. Drew ducked out early to catch the end of a ball game. Carl left before us to get home to his family. I couldn’t remember when Sol left. Perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps he stayed until Archie and I left.

  In an attempt to jog my memory, I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. Was Solar in the taxi with me? Was Sol the person implicating me in the crime? What if he claimed he was there and said he saw me stab Archie? What purpose would Sol have to lie? Besides the fact that Sol could be the killer covering his own tracks.

  Solar was number one on my suspect list. How was I going to get close to him to find out if he knew what happened to Archie? I had two choices. Risk being found by my brothers in law enforcement by confronting him myself. Or ask Chelsey to question him. The latter would be safer to keep me hidden, but risky for her.

  In case I was wrong with my theory, I drafted my own list of suspects. I needed to figure out if there were any criminals that Archie had put away. Searching the Internet using Archie’s name led me to a few cases, but none stood out. Since he was a local police chief, Archie wouldn’t have been the man blamed for locking up a serious criminal in recent years. He was a supervisor and I was fairly certain any arrests would’ve been through the local detective bureau or a different agency. Nonetheless, it wasn’t something to be overlooked. Someone could’ve been released on parole that Archie put away eons ago.

  Allowing Freddy to help could prove fruitful. He’d easily be able to cross reference Archie’s old cases with anyone released from jail recently, but it could take him a considerable amount of time if Archie had made a lot of arrests. Time I didn’t have. Plus, I feared Freddy would turn me in. But I could’ve asked Chelsey to ask him for help. I wasn’t sure if Chelsey had it in her to lie to Freddy—pretending she didn’t know where I was.

  I decided Freddy wasn’t an option. I was in this alone. Well, not completely alone, I had Chelsey. It dumbfounded me that she believed me since no one else seemed to—given the television reports. That was important to me. She was important to me. And not just because I was in trouble and she was helping me. No. It was more than that.

  Speaking of Chelsey, I wondered why she wasn’t yet awake. It was already nine. She told me her daughter woke her up early every day. Her internal clock should’ve been programmed to six in the morning, but what did I know?

  After debating whether or not to wake her, I decided to check on her to make sure she was okay without waking her. I crept down the hallway to Chelsey’s bedroom. The door was open, so I peered inside. The bed was made and Chelsey was MIA. Her bathroom door was open as well, so I knew she wasn’t in the latrine. The shower wasn’t running. I scratched my head. Where could she be? Did she go to work? I guess I assumed she’d call out of work since I was in her house, but maybe she didn’t.

  Chelsey’s car was missing. It surprised me that I hadn’t woken when she left the house or started up the car. I wasn’t about to sit around the house and do nothing. I wanted to go to the bar and interview the bartender, hostess, and manager, but it was much too early in the morning for that.

  Since I didn’t have anything to change into, getting dressed was easy—all I had to do was tie my sneakers. Conveniently, I ditched my bloody clothes and shoes in the lagoon behind Chelsey’s house; the only thing I had to wear was a spare outfit I kept in my gym bag. There was no reason to provide the police with more ammunition against me. Bloody clothes would’ve given them more evidence to wrongfully convict me.

  I left Chelsey’s house and jogged up the road to the strip mall. At the pharmacy, I purchased deodorant, a toothbrush, a razor, shaving cream, a prepaid cell phone, and an “I love the Jersey Shore” t-shirt, since that was the only wardrobe option available. I also bought the matching Jersey Shore baseball cap to complete my costume.

  Before I arrived back at Chelsey’s, I ditched my cell phone. I knew it could be used to find my whereabouts. A prepaid phone wouldn’t be easily tracked and I wouldn’t hold on to it long enough to be tracked.

  Thinking about what I should do next, I decided to contact Carl’s wife. A good investigator would rule out everyone close to Archie as the murderer, even if they didn’t consider that person a suspect. Even the best inv
estigator made human errors. Carl worked the day shift. I hoped his wife had returned home after taking their children to school.

  I dialed Carl’s home phone. His wife picked up on the second ring.

  “Gloria?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Carl’s friend, Robert.”

  “Oh, yes, Robert. I remember you from our wedding.” I, too, was at Carl’s wedding. I sat at a table with an old school buddy of Carl’s, Robert. Robert mentioned that although he and Carl didn’t speak often, they always picked up where they had left off.

  “I was wondering if Carl was around.”

  “I’m sorry you missed him, Robert. He’s at work. I can tell him you called though. Is it urgent?”

  “No, no, it’s not urgent at all. I just saw him at Archie’s retirement party on Saturday, but I didn’t have much time to catch up with him. I got so busy talking to everyone that I didn’t see him leave. I was there until ten. What time did he get home?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure. Eleven or twelve maybe. I’m always in bed by that time.”

  “Yeah, I hear you. Those late nights are a thing of the past for me. Anyway, I’ll give Carl a call next week. Nice talking to you, Gloria.”

  “You too, Robert.”

  So, Carl got home around eleven or twelve. If only I could remember what time I left the bar…that would help. Perhaps the bartender or hostess remembered us leaving—but it wasn’t likely given that there were a lot of people at Savoy’s. I wondered if Savoy’s had video surveillance. If so, the recordings would show anyone following us when we left. Or I could track down the taxi that drove me home. Maybe they’d have logs.

  There were only two taxi companies that served the area. Taxi Joe’s and Gabby’s Cabbies. Taxi Joe’s phone number was easily located on the Internet, so I called them first. A kind woman told me that none of the vehicles in their fleet were dispatched to Savoy’s on Saturday night. That left Gabby’s Cabbies. Some dopey chick answered the phone.