Lye in Wait (11 page)

Official demeanor back in place, he made another note. "I
haven't had the pleasure. Yet. I'll see her this evening."

"Oh. You weren't the one who told her about Walter?"

He shook his head. "Let's get back to your curiosity about your
neighbor. Tell me more about why you've developed this sudden
interest in him."

"I told you-"

"Ambrose!" Sergeant Zahn stood in the rear doorway, looking
very unhappy.

"Excuse me," the detective said, and rose. Zahn took a couple
steps toward him, and they spoke in low voices. Affecting disinterest, I examined the painting of men working a herd of cattle and
listened as hard as I could.

"Why is she here?" Zahn asked in a low voice.

"Just finishing up a few loose ends," Ambrose said.

"Like what?"

"She saw someone over at Hanover's place the night he died."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Zahn glance at me. I
ignored him.

"Did she see who it was?" he asked.

Ambrose shook his head. "No."

"Anything missing?"

"Not that I know of." Ambrose said.

"Then forget it. The guy killed himself. End of story. Stop trying to make it into something more. We don't have time to investigate a homicide that didn't even happen. I need you back on the
mayors case.

Stop trying to make it into something more. Meghan had said
those same words to me. Was Ambrose looking into what had happened to Walter after all?

DETECTIVE AMBROSE SIGHED As he sat down again. "I think we're
done here. Thanks for coming down."

"Walter was murdered, wasn't he?" I whispered.

He looked uncomfortable. "We have no evidence of that"

"Did you find a note?"

He shook his head. "Not in his house or his vehicle."

"What about the lye-did you find any at his house?"

He hesitated, then shook his head again.

"Okay," I said. "So he didn't leave a note. Lots of people don't,
so that doesn't prove anything. But someone was in his house the
night he died, and he had a pile of money and a new fiancee, neither of which tends to make someone want to kill himself. And
both of which could be a motive for murder."

Sergeant Zahn walked by.

Ambrose said, "I'll walk you to your car."

"No! You can't-"

He grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. As we approached the entrance, he said, "I'll be back in a few minutes," to
the officer manning the front desk.

Outside he asked, "Where's your car?"

"Wait a minute!"

"Where is it?"

"I walked."

His hand firmly gripping my elbow, he guided me to the sidewalk that ran along the side of the long, low police station.

"What's this about a fiancee?" he asked.

"You don't already know?"

"If I did, I wouldn't ask."

"But you know about the lottery?"

"Yeah-got his bank records yesterday."

I told him about meeting Debby and Jacob, wondering if I was
getting her in trouble. But if Walter had been murdered, Ambrose
needed to know about her.

"What are their last names?"

"I don't know. But they hang out at Beans R Us."

"So you were in Hanover's place, moving things around?"

"This morning. Boxing things up at his mother's request"

He muttered "shit" under his breath.

I raised my eyebrows.

"Sorry."

I laughed. "We stopped in the middle of cleaning out the place.
Walter's fiancee wanted to help go through things, after the memorial service."

"That's on Monday?"

"In the afternoon."

He looked thoughtful. "You still insist the lye wasn't yours"

"Yes! But why would someone kill Walter in my..." I trailed
off. Swallowed. "Am I a suspect?"

He looked disgusted. "At this point no one is a suspect." All of a
sudden, he looked me in the eye and gave me that grin. "But I suppose you'd be as good as any."

"That sounds just a tad unprofessional, Detective Ambrose,"
I said.

"Just a tad." He blinked that slow cat blink again.

"So why doesn't Sergeant Zahn want you to investigate Walter's
death? Don't you guys usually keep at it until you know for sure
what happened?"

The grin slid off his face. "It looks like suicide. And I can't point
to any physical evidence to the contrary, just an odd set of circumstances that makes my gut twist. I don't know, maybe he's right.
It's true enough that I've got other cases that deserve my attention.
But I can't seem to let it-" Suddenly he looked chagrined, and I
knew he wished he hadn't said anything.

"Is whatever you're working on for the mayor more important
than catching a killer?"

Ambrose looked at the pointy toes of his boots. Ground one
against the cement. He sighed.

"Well, for what it's worth, I agree with your gut," I said. "But
how do you make someone drink lye?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked across the street.
"I'd like to know that myself. Is there anything, anything at all you
haven't told me?"

I shook my head. Then, "Wait a minute. There is something
else." I told him about the intruder coming back to clean up his
mess.

"Don't go over to Hanover's again. I need to take another look
around over there before you disturb anything else." He closed his
eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Listen, I don't know exactly what happened to your neighbor, but whatever it was, you need to stay clear of it. You're too
involved."

"To your benefit," I said, indignant.

He dropped his hand. "I would've found out about the fiancee
and her friend soon enough. Now I need you to back off until I
can get the situation sorted out."

Back off? I'd already found out more than this cowboy had.
"And how are you going to, uh, sort it out if you're not allowed to
officially work on the case?"

He ignored the question. "Do I have your word you'll leave it
to me?"

C(
Um...

A deep-red flush swept up his face and he leaned over me. I felt
a little shudder of fear, and maybe something else, travel up my
spine, but I stared back, defiant. When he spoke, the words were
measured and low.

"I'll find out what happened to Walter Hanover. My job. Not
yours.

He turned and took a few steps, then turned back. "I can't have
you interfering in this investigation. It's too dangerous."

I rolled my eyes. "But I helped."

"Maybe. Maybe not. You may have already compromised any
information we could have gained from Hanover's home, tainted
interviews, who knows what else. And Sophie Mae? When I indicated you don't appear to be a suspect now, that doesn't mean if
there's evidence that implicates you, I won't dig it up."

With that, he strode back inside.

And I walked home, contemplating why men seem to have
such tender egos.

As BAD AS I felt when I came into the house, someone else felt
worse. Erin was curled on one end of the sofa, rereading The
Wolves of Willoughby Chase, one of her favorite books. Brodie lay
with his head in her lap, watching her face.

Dickhead had done it again. He couldn't even keep his daughter for a full twenty-four hours. And this time he'd come right out
and assured us all he would see the weekend through.

"Hi, Bug," I said, trying not to let my anger show.

She looked up, misery shining from her eyes. "Hi"

I sat down next to her on the sofa and put my arm around her.
She leaned into me and sighed.

"Where's your mom?" I asked.

Erin shrugged against me. "Don't know. No one was here when
I got home."

"He... Did your Dad know that?"

She nodded. "I had to get the spare key to get in."

We kept the key under a particular rock in the garden on the
west side of the house. I'd have to mention to Meghan that Richard knew where it was now. I couldn't believe he'd left Erin alone
like that, not knowing when we'd be home.

"You okay?" I asked.

A little nod. Then, "Sophie Mae? Why's everything else more
important than me?"

That bastard. I kept my answer light. "Actually, Bug, I think you
have that backwards. 'Cuz you're more important than everything
else."
"

I mean at Dad's. It's like I'm..." She twisted her head to look
up at me. I let her know with my eyes I wanted to hear whatever
she had to say. She snuggled back into my side.

"It's like I'm a pet or something. Like we are with Brodie. We
love him and feed him and snuggle him and play with him. He's
around all the time, keeping us company..." She shrugged and
stroked the dog's velvet ear. "I guess it's not like I'm a pet." There
were tears in her voice.

How do you like that, Dick? Erin thinks she treats her dog better
than you treat her.

I hugged her closer and spoke into her hair. "It's okay, Bug. It's
just the way he is. It doesn't have anything to do with how he feels
about you."

She sniffed. I could tell she didn't believe me, and I couldn't
blame her. It sounded lame, even to my ears. How could I convince
her without making her dad out as a creep? He was, no doubt
about it, but I didn't have the right to tell her that. Especially not
after Meghan had been so careful about that taking-the-high-road
thing.

I heard the front door open and steps in the hallway. Then
Meghan stood in the doorway, two bags of groceries in her arms.
She took one look at the three of us on the couch and Erin's wet
face, and anger flared bright behind her eyes. Without a word, she
went into the kitchen and started putting groceries away. We heard
a cupboard door bang shut. Erin dragged her sleeve across her
cheek and pulled away, giving me a worried look.

"Mom's mad, huh?"

I nodded. "She'll be back in a minute. She's cooling off."

"I know," Erin said. We waited. The cupboard noises stopped
in the kitchen. After a few minutes, Meghan came back in and sat
on Erin's other side.

"What was his excuse this time?" she asked her daughter. Her
tone was neutral, but I was surprised she put it so baldly.

"He, uh, said something about someone he had to meet who
could get him a job," Erin said.

"What happened to the job he had?" I asked.

"He quit." Erin's body tensed in anticipation of the storm.

It didn't come. "I see," Meghan said. "Well, if he had to go, then
I'm glad he brought you home instead of leaving you alone this
evening. Sophie Mae and I were talking about renting a movie
tonight-"

I broke in. "But then I decided I had too much work to do, so
now your mom won't have to watch it all by herself."

"I went to a movie last night," Erin reminded her mother.
Meghan was fairly strict about rationing TV and movie watching.

"Oh, c'mon. Like I don't know you'd be watching TV all afternoon at your dad's if you were over there. I doubt a movie two
nights in a row will hurt you. Much." She smiled.

Erin clambered off the sofa. "What movie?"

Meghan stood up and held out her hand to her daughter. "We
hadn't decided yet. So now that Sophie Mae has to work, you have
to help me pick. Let's go now, before dinner. But first, put your bag
up in your room."

Erin started to pick up her coat, which lay over her duffle on
the floor. Then she came back and put her arms around me.

"I'm glad you live with us, Sophie Mae," she whispered.

"Me, too, honey."

I cleared the lump out of my throat, and she started lugging
her bag up the stairs. I turned to my housemate.

"How do you do that? She was so upset when I came home."
"

I think it's like taking a stubborn lid off a jar: you got it started
and I just finished it. Besides, she's ten. I have a feeling it won't be
so easy when she's fifteen"