BM03 - Crazy Little Thing Called Dead (13 page)

***

I lay on the bed, fully dressed, with my face in the pillow. The dogs were sprawled on the floor in my room, I could hear panting and the occasional shift in position. Annabelle Cat reclined, diva like, on the other pillow. Her tail smacking me every so often.

“Go away, Annabelle Cat. You’re interrupting my meditative funk.”

Her tail hit me again. Crap. Without lifting my head I reached over and swatted at her with my hand. Annabelle Cat pounced on me, sinking her claws and fangs into my hand.

“Hey!” I jerked my hand back and rolled over checking the damage. Two sets of claws and teeth. I must have really pissed her off. I got off the bed and went to disinfect my hand in the downstairs bathroom where I kept the first aid kit, but the dog started barking and when I got to the kitchen Hambecker was standing at my door.

I let him in and he slouched into a kitchen chair, legs kicked out.

“Thirsty? I’ve got beer and soda.” I headed for the fridge.

“Regular or diet soda?” He asked.

“I’ve got both.” I held up two cans for his approval.

“Give me a regular.”

I grabbed a cola out of the fridge and tossed it to him, then I popped a diet orange for me. I’d decided to cut down on caffeine. “Is this a social call?” I stood with my back to the sink and sipped soda off the top of the can. Beagle Annie came to lie at my feet.

Hambecker took a swig. “Not entirely, I need to talk to a suspect and I think it will go better if I have a woman with me.”

“Aren’t there any female agents around? Wouldn’t that be normal procedure?” I poured some chips into a bowl and set it on the table.

“Bree, you’re local. She may not know you, but she knows
of
you. The more relaxed she is the better this will go.” He picked up a chip and tapped it on his can.

Then it occurred to me he was letting me listen in on a questioning and I should shut up and play along. “Just hand on a sec while I clean up my hand. Annabelle Cat took exception to me.”

“Do you mind if I take my truck down as far as the green?” I asked when I’d finished cleaning the bite. “I’ve got errands to do after.”

I drove down the hill with Hambecker behind me eating my dust, which gave me a perverse kind of pleasure. I parked at the green and he pulled in next to me and got out.

“Why don’t you jump in the truck? I’ll be there in a minute.”

I sat in the truck and wondered why he would ask me instead of getting another agent to go with him. Maybe he was going to do something that wasn’t quite kosher. That worried me a little, but not enough to get out of the truck.

Five minutes later Hambecker pulled himself up into the truck and backed out. He turned onto 110 and headed out toward Tunbridge, which kind of surprised me. We were going to Ronnie’s house?

“Ronnie’s not, um, I don’t know how to say this.” I cast about in my brain for the appropriate phrasing. “She’s mentally challenged. She’s like a naive ten year old. She doesn’t see things like an adult. At least, that’s what Claire told me.”

“I know. She’s on the Asperger’s spectrum. I’ll go easy with her, but I need to know what she knows. She could be in danger.”

Pretty soon we were sitting uncomfortably in Ronnie Hart’s living room waiting for her to stop serving refreshments and sit down. At least I was uncomfortable; who knew what was going on in Hambecker’s brain. I was vacillating between asking for a tour of the house, complimenting her food and keeping my mouth shut. I was afraid I’d say something I shouldn’t and she would know I’d broken into her house, which could have been awkward.

When she finally sat down I was sweating along my hairline. I was hot and nervous and wishing Hambecker hadn’t asked me to come along. He smiled what seemed like a genuine smile, complimented the lemonade and cookies.

“Ronnie,” he said, “you know that a man was killed at Planet Hair?” He was quiet, gentle with her.

“Yes, there was a man. He died.” She looked stricken. “He was a bad man.”

“Do you know what happened?” Hambecker was watching her closely.

The phone rang and I jumped about a mile.

“Can I get the phone?” Ronnie asked. Hambecker nodded his assent and she jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

“Hughie, why are you calling me?” She had a sing songy lilt to her voice. Had to be someone she knew well.

“No, I didn’t.” Thump. Was she kicking the wall?

“No, I won’t.” Thump.

I looked at Hambecker and he shrugged.

“Okay, Hughie, bye.” She sighed so loudly we could hear her in the living room. She came back in the room, a ten year old in a thirty year old body. I found her faintly disturbing. And then felt ashamed of myself. She seemed perfectly nice.

“That was my brother, Hugo,” she said. “He’s funny.”

“Do you know where your brother is?” Hambecker asked.

“Yes!” She sat on the edge of her chair as if in anticipation.

“Can you tell me where he is?” Hambecker was infinitely patient.

“No. Hugo said not to tell.” She was still perfectly happy.

“Do you know what he does for a living?” he asked.

“Like for a job?” She bounced a little in her chair.

Hambecker nodded.

“Security, I think. And he’s a driver too. Hughie is a good driver.” She smiled and bounced.

“Do you know who he works for, who pays him?” He was sitting very still. Very calm.

I was about to jump out of my skin. This was like pulling teeth from a walrus.

“A lady. A nice lady. Not the bad man.” Ronnie scowled to show how she felt about the bad man.

“Does Hugo come to see you?” I asked. “Do you see him often?”

She beamed. It was the delighted smile of a five year old and it gave me shivers. How could this woman live here alone? She was so vulnerable. “I see Hughie all the time.”

“And the night of the murder? Did he stop that night?” Hambecker asked. We were double teaming her now.

“Yes. He--” The phone rang again. Ronnie jumped up.

“Hello? Hughie? No, Hughie. All right.” She hung up with another sigh and came back in the room. “I have to go to work now. It was nice meeting you.”

We left without protesting, and she waved happily at us from the door.

Hambecker had a furrow between his brows, and was tapping on the steering wheel. I could almost see the wheels turning.

“Is it only me?” I asked. “Or did it seem like the house was bugged?”

“No, it’s not only you. I’d bet my car that someone was listening in. The question is was the listener in the house with us?”

“You think Hugh was in the house?” I looked at him in surprise. “Why didn’t you search it?”

“I have to tread very carefully. It can’t be said I was taking advantage of a mentally incompetent witness. It needs to go slow.” He pulled over and cut the lights before we were out of sight of the drive.

“What are we doing?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea.

“Watching,” he said. “Just watching.”

Chapter Nine

We waited by the side of the road in the afternoon sunshine for about ten minutes before Ronnie’s van went by. She didn’t give us a second look. A minute after that a beat-up, blue Chevy truck flew by.

“I thought so,” Hambecker cranked over the SUV and pulled out onto the road.

“Where did he come from?” I asked. “The truck wasn’t parked in the door yard.”

“Hidden from view behind the shed. It’s been there on and off since the murder.” He followed at a leisurely pace, and I was surprised when the truck turned left and we turned right.

“Aren’t you going to follow him?” I asked, turning to look out the back window. The truck disappeared around a curve. “He’s getting away.”

“I know where he’s going. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.” Hambecker was relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the arm rest.

“How do you know where he’s going?” I was seriously confused. I only knew about the brother because Lori had mentioned him. How did Hambecker find out?

“I’ve been keeping an eye on him for a while.”

“How long a while?” I had the feeling Hambecker wasn’t telling me everything he knew. “Since before the murder?”

“A while before the murder, yeah.” His voice was casual, like he didn’t realize what a traitor he was.

“You’ve been watching Ronnie Hart’s brother since before the murder and you didn’t bother to tell me about him? What is that? You told me you’d share information.”

“Ronnie’s brother is in his own class, filed under People Bree MacGowan Is Not To Mess With. Understand?” The slightest edge was audible in his voice. Hambecker was not a happy camper.

“You cheated. The deal was, you’d tell me what you knew. You knew you weren’t going to honor the deal when you made it. Big jerk.” I slumped back in the seat and stared out the front window. I should have known he wouldn’t play fair. The fact that I wasn’t playing fair either, and I should just get over it occurred to me. But I didn’t let that stop me from sulking.

“Listen, Trouble, nothing you do is going to make me feel guilty about trying to keep you safe.
Trying
being the operative word. There isn’t a man on this earth who could keep you safe from yourself.”

“Says you. I don’t need a guy to keep me safe.” Why was it, that whenever I spent too much time with Hambecker, I always ended up wanting to hit him?

“Says me. And I should know. Man! You are hard to deal with.”

I sat in shocked silence waiting for the next jab, but it didn’t come. He shut right up. It was like he was trying to do some form of in vehicle meditation while he drove, keeping his breathing slow and his body relaxed. A fucking Zen master.

I, on the other hand, was pissed off and tight as a drum. I knew I wouldn’t win either a verbal or physical sparring contest with Hambecker, but I might be able to win a sneaky contest. The SUV was still carrying the GPS I’d planted on it. I’d checked it out on my phone as we were talking. I’d bet anything that as soon as he left me Hambecker would be on Hugo’s tail. And I would be on Hambecker’s. Hah. I felt just a tad magnanimous.

“Did you learn anything from talking to Ronnie?” I asked. “Because I sure didn’t.”

“I learned that someone doesn’t want her talking to us. That seems significant.” There was no angry residue in his voice. He’d zenned it right away.

“And that someone is her brother. Or at least she thought it was her brother, so it probably was. Don’t you think?” Now was the time to ply him with silly questions and make him think I was off track.

“It was her brother. I saw him as he drove past us,” Hambecker said.

“Ronnie’s brother, Hugo Hart—who would name their kid Hugo Hart? That’s just cruel.” I tumbled Hugo Hart around in my brain for a minute, but it didn’t matter how I looked at it, it was a pitiless name. Up there with John John and Justin Credible.

“His mother? I don’t see anything wrong with it. It’s no worse than being named
pretty cheese
.” He grinned, but didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Don’t be making fun of my name, Hammie.” I stressed his name. I was regretting ever telling him the origins of mine. “It’s a perfectly good name and much better that Hugo Hart. You know there’s something I’ve been wondering about, if the Bulgarian assassin was killed at Planet Hair, how come there was no blood? There should have been some blood somewhere, shouldn’t there?”

“There was blood. A lot of it. CSI got pictures with the UV light. Someone scrubbed the place clean.” He looked at me. “You’re not going to barf in my rig are you? Because if you are I’m pulling over.”

“No, I don’t barf from talking about blood. I have to see it.” Men. So concerned about their cars. “Why don’t blood stains ever go away?” I asked. “Why can’t they be cleaned up?” I’d been wondering about this for a while.

“Hell, I don’t remember. Something about the iron, or was it protein? I’m not a crime scene guy. I’m a chase them down and take them out guy. I make the blood stains.” He grinned.

“That’s just gross. Didn’t your mother teach you better than to say things like that?”
Jeez
.

“My mother would have slapped me silly for saying that in the house.” He laughed. “But I’m not in the house.”

“Har, har. What’s your plan for tomorrow?” I asked.

“I’ve got stuff to do. I won’t be around tomorrow. You can go do your investigative reporter thing without worrying about me getting in your way.” He winked at me.

“What was that? Did you just wink at me?” He had to have lost his mind.

“I did not wink at you. I had a twitch in my eye. I always get twitches when I’m around you. You’re bad for my nervous system.” There was suppressed laughter in his voice.

“For heaven’s sake, grow up.” I sat with my arms crossed until we reached my house. I did not understand Hambecker one bit. One minute he was yelling at me and the next he was winking and laughing. I was beginning to think he was schizophrenic.

***

I parked on the Green and walked across to the office and climbed the stairs, wondering what kind of mood Meg would be in today. She was on the phone when I walked in, and Deirdre’s bag was at her desk, but she wasn’t in the room. Meg’s conversation was low and tense and when I walked to my desk she swiveled her chair so her back was toward me.

“That was rude. It wasn’t like I was going to listen in.” I sat and booted my computer, checking on the state of the paper and working on both the dead man story and a Tropical Storm Irene retrospective. The advantage of a story like that was that it could be run whenever we needed filler, and it would always be interesting to our readers.

I tried to ignore the edgy conversation from the other side of the room. I turned Pandora on low but the occasional phrase came my way, and it sounded bad. Meg could get tense about deadlines and printing, but I hadn’t ever heard this tone out of her. Something was not right.

The phone slammed down, and Meg’s chair whirled around to face me.

“My God. I’m going to kill that Lucy Howe.”

“What’d she do now? Sell us down the river?” I found it hard to get too serious about Lucy. I had bigger fish to fry.