Falling to Pieces (30 page)

If Gordon had the time, he’d teach the little leech some manners. Instead he opted for pulling back the slide on his SIG Sauer P226. The feel and sound of the pistol brought him a measure of pleasure, as did the looks of fear on the four faces in front of him.

“Shut up,” he said. “I told you I’m in a hurry, and I don’t have time to listen to this sort of thing.”

“But she—”

“She did nothing. You think she killed your old man? How’d she do that? He was already dead when she got there. You know how I know? Because I killed him, and I wouldn’t have had to do it if he’d just given me the package.” His voice rose and his pulse began throbbing in his temple as his patience ebbed away. “Now I’m going to count to three, then I’m shooting somebody if I don’t see that bag.”

“One.”

“We don’t have it,” Harper said.

“Two.”

McCallister moved and grabbed Harper, shoving her down on the floor behind him.

“Three.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The unmistakable feel of a pistol pressed into the nape of his neck was enough to send Gordon into a rage. Then again, he didn’t want the guy standing behind him to do anything they’d both regret.

“Easy, pal.”

“Don’t speak. Don’t move.” The voice was calm and cool. Too calm. Whoever it was, he’d handled this sort of situation before, and that most certainly was not a good thing.

The man leaned forward and relieved him of his semiautomatic, never easing up on the pistol’s pressure that was biting into his neck.

Gordon didn’t like the way Harper was staring over his shoulder, like she’d spotted a knight in shining armor ride up on a white horse.

He didn’t like the smugness in the guy’s voice.

And he sure didn’t like knowing what his boss was going to say when he used his one phone call.

“I
STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND,”
Callie said, staring down into her coffee, squished between Deborah and the wall of the booth. “If the poison didn’t kill Stakehorn, what did?”

“And why was poison in his
kaffi?”
Deborah asked.

Adalyn took a bite of the apple strudel in front of her and grinned. “You want to explain it, Trent? Or do you want me to?”

“Be my guest.” He leaned back in the booth at The
Kaffi
Shop, tapping a rolled up sheet with his notes for Tuesday’s paper against the table.

“This is all off the record, mind you.” She looked across at Trent and wagged her finger.

“No problem. I have my own sources—some who are on the record and some who aren’t.” He grinned across at Callie and she felt her heart rate trip, then accelerate.

She still hadn’t digested all her feelings from the last forty-eight hours. Max groaned and rolled over on her feet underneath the table, his bright red bandana resting nicely against his golden coat. Since the news had spread around Shipshewana, and the
Gazette
had come out featuring Max as a hero, he was allowed into any store or restaurant.

Callie was grateful for that. She felt better with the Labrador at her side, though she knew she was perfectly safe with Stone behind bars.

“From what we’ve been able to put together,” Trent said, “through Stone’s confession, a more complete revelation of Shane’s investigation, and of course most importantly finding the package is the following.”

Callie pushed away her coffee and leaned forward, fidgeting with the plastic placemat that had cracked on the corner.

Adalyn chimed in: “Gordon Stone was here to pick up twelve windsocks—all stuffed in a single shopping bag—a bag with SHOP SHIPSHEWANA on it.” She popped the final bit of strudel into her mouth and motioned to Trent to finish.

“That’s why he broke into Margie’s place? He thought my bag was his bag?” Callie turned her cup round and round.

“Correct.” Trent leaned back. “Margie took your bag home the day you were arrested. She meant to bring it by to you the next day. Apparently Stone thought he’d break in and pick it up.”

“Why? What did he want the windsocks for?” Deborah sounded truly puzzled.

“Each windsock was stuffed with a kilo of cocaine.”

“I don’t understand.” Deborah scooted farther into the booth as Jonas approached the table with baby Joshua.

“I thought I might find you here.” Jonas smiled at his wife as if he hadn’t just dropped her off at Callie’s shop an hour ago.

What did that feel like, Callie wondered? She had experienced love and devotion once before, but it seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Adalyn and Trent were explaining Gordon Stone’s motive to us.” Deborah told her husband.

“Greed, I would imagine. Isn’t that usually the motive?”

“In this case, you might be right—since the street value for that amount of cocaine is more than a quarter of a million dollars.” Trent’s grin broadened. “Guess they figured our little police department wouldn’t catch an organization like theirs.”

“I’m not sure Stone’s motive was greed.” Adalyn put her elbows on the table, steepled her fingers and stared at them, as if she
might find answers there. “I don’t personally believe any of that money was going to Mr. Stone. He does seem rather confident that he’ll be taken care of—both legally and financially before, during, and after his probable incarceration.”

“Then what would be his motivation?” Callie’s palms went clammy at the mention of Stone’s name, as they did whenever she allowed her mind to travel back over what had happened two days ago—Stone’s voice, his hand on her arm, or the way he had held the gun to her head. She hadn’t yet dealt with the terror she’d felt then, and she wasn’t sure when she would.

“I think possibly loyalty. Whoever he works for has been a good employer, has taken care of him in the past, and he seems confident that boss will take care of him now.”

Shane Black appeared at their table, and Callie wondered if they’d be forced to take their little party outside since there was not enough room for one more person.

“I was headed over to the livery,” Jonas said, standing. “This little guy wanted his mamm.”

“Meet you at the quilt shop?” Deborah asked, accepting the baby.

“Sure, but no hurry. I still need another half hour.”

Jonas stood, tapping the top of his straw hat to be sure it was firmly in place. Facing Shane, he hesitated, then held out his hand. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for what you did, for protecting my wife.
Danki
.”

“You’re welcome, Jonas. I’m not sure we’d have caught Stone if she hadn’t thought to climb out that window.” He left unsaid that Callie, Trent, Gavin, and Roger Stakehorn might all be dead.

“Ya.
She’s a good one for thinking fast on her feet.” Jonas left and Shane took his place at the table.

“What’s the meeting about?”

“Just catching everyone up,” Adalyn said.

“Off the record,” Trent added.

“Well, if we’re off the record I might be able to add a few things. If anyone deserves to know, you all do.” He was speaking to them all, but he sat a bit sideways and leaned forward so he could look directly at Callie as he spoke. “I knew a week ago that Stakehorn didn’t die of poison.”

“What?” Callie nearly came out of the booth, but there was nowhere for her to go; she was pinned between Deborah and the wall.

“The autopsy reports came back and showed conclusively that he died of a heart attack.”

“But you said—”

“What exactly did I say, Callie?” Shane pierced her with his dark eyes.

She thought of the time she’d spent across from him in the interrogation room, thought of the visit he’d made to her parking lot, thought of the moment he came in and saved her from Gordon Stone.

“I
asked
you about the poison. I
asked
you to make a confession.”

“What was the point then?”

“I wasn’t sure. I was chasing it down. I suspected though, that the poison in the coffee was a diversionary tactic. I didn’t know by whom, and I didn’t know what side you were on. You claimed to be Daisy’s niece, but no one here remembered meeting you before. I had a bit of background investigation to do before I could be sure, to tell you the truth.”

Now Callie’s temper overrode the debt she owed him. Deborah must have sensed it, because she ran her hand down Callie’s arm, whispered “Peace” in her ear.

“This morning, with his Chicago lawyer present, Stone admitted to part of what happened.” Everyone at the table sat up a little straighter.

“The evening Stakehorn died, Stone was there. He confronted
him about a missing package—a package he claims had sentimental value but to his knowledge did not contain any illegal substances. Stone confronted him in the office, the night you found him, Callie.” Shane accepted the cup of coffee the waitress offered, then continued. “Stakehorn denied ever having possession of it, but Stone claims he saw the editor pick it up at the flea market and walk away with it.”

“You don’t believe that do you? The part about Stone not knowing there were drugs in it?”

“Doesn’t matter what I believe. All that matters in a court of law are the facts and the evidence. Some of those facts have been corroborated by video recordings, now that we know what to look for. Stone claimed he followed Stakehorn from the market, followed him down the alley behind your shop, Callie. We pulled video surveillance tapes from local business on the night in question. Some had been erased, but Pots and Pans had installed a new security system. It shows Stakehorn stopping outside the back of their shop and peering into a shopping bag. He apparently didn’t know what he had, but if he’d turned it in at that point, he might still be alive today.”

The group at the table grew quiet, trying to soak in all of the information.

“There’s more.” Shane pushed away the coffee cup, cleared his throat as if he was uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “We can’t be sure, and our techs are still working on it, but it looks as if your aunt saw both Stakehorn and Stone creeping down the alley. She appears in a corner of the frame. It’s hard to see, and she’s across the alley, just peeking out from the foliage in her garden. It was the night she died, Callie.”

Deborah reached over and clasped her hand, as Callie processed Shane’s words. Aunt Daisy had died in the garden, after seeing Stakehorn running from Stone?

“It must have been quite a shock for her,” Deborah murmured.

“So how did Stakehorn die, Shane?” Adalyn cocked her head, curious now by the look on her face.

“Heart attack—we knew that, and Stone confirmed it. He pressured him to give up the location of the package. When Stakehorn didn’t, Stone became more persuasive, and Stakehorn’s ticker gave out.”

“Pressured him how?” Trent asked.

“I can’t go into details.”

“So where is the package?” Trent had resumed tapping his notes against the table.

“Not at liberty to say.” Shane grinned now. “I can say that our K—9 unit is ninety-nine percent successful. The dogs did their job well and are already on their way back home.”

“And Stakehorn’s money?” Deborah asked. “The money his son was sure he was hiding?”

Adalyn set her fork across her plate. “People who don’t trust lawyers or banks tend to hide things.”

“Right,” Shane confirmed. “He hid his stocks in the same place he hid the package he’d stumbled upon. Those stocks—and they totaled a large sum of money—automatically go to his only heir.”

“So Roger Stakehorn just walks with a stash of money?” Trent asked. “He broke into Callie’s store and he terrorized Deborah on the road, and he walks away with the prize?” Trent asked.

“I’m not pressing charges. I want him out of town.” Callie couldn’t let one thing go though. Shane Black had harassed her for weeks. “Why did you continue questioning me?”

Shane again turned in the booth, though there was barely enough room. He looked her directly in the eyes, one arm across the back of the booth, one on the table. “Someone put poison in his coffee. Given your background, you were a suspect—at first. I also had to verify that you were, in fact, Daisy’s niece.”

“How could I not be her niece?”

“People impersonate other people all the time, Callie. They read the obits and show up with false identification.”

“That’s awful,” Deborah murmured.

“The
Chicago Trib
did a story on that very thing last year. Reporter won a big award.” Trent sounded wistful.

“So sorry I couldn’t help you out with that,” Callie snapped. She turned back to Shane. “You really thought I was impersonating … myself! How ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Adalyn admitted. “Actually that’s part of what makes Shane a good detective. He leaves no suspect unscrutinized.”

“Once I’d confirmed your identity, I sent an investigator from Fort Wayne to interview some of your Texas friends.”

“You what?”

“Relax, sweetheart. They all gave you glowing recommendations. Even your ex-employer. Apparently they were still recovering from losing their best sales rep. By the way, you still have a job waiting for you in Houston if you want it.”

All eyes turned to Callie, but she only shook her head, still shocked at the latest revelations. She had friends in Texas? Why had she felt so alone then?

“Though I was convinced of your innocence when Max was shot. That’s why I stopped by and saw you at the shop.”

“And told me poison doesn’t always kill—”

“It was the most I could say at the time. Meanwhile I continued interviewing other suspects here, which we had plenty of. As you know, Stakehorn had his share of enemies.”

“What was the purpose of the poison?” Deborah asked.

“My best guess is that Gordon did it so that we’d spend our time looking for the murderer while he spent his time looking for the package.”

“Still doesn’t make sense to me. Dennis Stakehorn was an old man. A heart attack would have been natural at his age.”

“He’d had a physical two weeks before, been given a clean bill of health, with one caveat—a weak heart. The doctor advised no drama, no big scares, no huge stories. The doctor even suggested he retire.”

“How could this man, Gordon, know that?” Callie worried the hair which now reached well past the collar of her shirt.

“We found evidence on Gordon’s phone that he’d broken into Stakehorn’s home first. While he was there he read the doctor’s report, looked for the stash of drugs, but didn’t find it, then moved on to the office.”

“This was in his texts?” Callie asked.

“Exactly.”

“My head is beginning to ache,” Deborah murmured.

“The autopsy would have revealed the heart attack eventually, but in the meantime we spent our resources looking at the poison. It’s a pretty common tactic among the Chicago mob, divert the investigation with another investigation. Can’t hurt and it might buy them enough time to find what they need and get out of town.”

“Why did they pick our town, Shane?” Deborah had been quietly absorbing all the news, snuggling Joshua in her lap. Now she caressed the top of his head. “Why Shipshewana instead of a big place like Chicago or Indianapolis?”

“Pressure is on due to the crack-down on drug operations. They’re looking for smaller towns to ship through. Shipshewana was the perfect location. We have a small police force to handle such things, but swell to a large crowd during market days. This operation was a test to see how it would work.”

“They won’t try again, will they?” Callie forgot her anger, forgot everything except the families she’d grown close to—Deborah and Melinda and Esther. It was one thing to accept that drug usage and distribution was a common occurrence in a city like Houston, but it wasn’t supposed to happen in Shipshewana.

“I doubt it. They know we’ll be watching now.” Shane stood, straightened his light summer jacket, and adjusted his belt, which she now knew held his pistol. Well, of course it did. He was an officer. And wasn’t she glad about that?

He had saved her life.