Murder on Sagebrush Lane (7 page)

20

Officer Harley, standing guard at the Rinaldi home, granted DJ entrance to the murder scene when he presented his FBI credentials. Once inside, DJ looked around the foyer, trying to decide where to begin his search. To his right was the living room, cordoned off with crime scene tape. To the left was a large dining room complete with a banquet-sized table and numerous chairs. On the dining room wall to the right, he saw a door, which presumably led to the kitchen, but it was closed. Down the hall in front of him, he caught sight of what appeared to be a large den. Then he heard Harrie’s voice and looked up in time to see her coming down the stairs, talking non-stop to Ginger.

“I thought the plan was for us to come here together,” DJ said, his voice tight with emotion.

Harrie hadn’t noticed him standing there. She drew in her breath when she saw the distressed look on his face. “Oh, Honey, I’m sorry.” She hurried down the last few steps and ran to him. “I didn’t intend to worry you. I thought you and Swannie were still talking to that awful woman.”

He hugged her to him, relieved to see her smiling face. “We finished with her a while ago. Swannie took her down to headquarters, and Mom and I discussed our next move with Katie.”

Harrie looked up at him and pulled away. “What are you talking about? What next move?”

He took her by the arm. “We need to talk. Let’s see if the den back there is empty.” He turned to Ginger who still stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Come on,” he said. “You need to hear this, too.”

The den was spacious and furnished with plump, oversized couches and reclining chairs. A huge coffee table sat in front of the two couches, and a game table stood in the corner, close to a big, stone fireplace. A giant flat-screen television set hung on the wall above the mantel.

Harrie and Ginger sat on one of the sofas and waited while DJ paced the floor. He told them in great detail about the interview with Bonnie Bellows.

“I’m so disappointed Katie’s aunt is such an unpleasant person,” Harrie said. “That just proves you can’t assume that a relative would necessarily be a good caretaker for a child.”

DJ continued and watched their faces as he described her personality and odd behavior. When he got to the part about Katie’s birth, he almost ended the story there. But he knew eventually he had to tell Harrie this latest news. As he expected, she did not receive it well.

“I don’t care who she is or whether she was a baby incubator for nine months. She has no rights to that child, and I will not stand by and let her take Katie away.” She paced the room as DJ had done minutes earlier. Her face was rigid with anger, and she clutched her upper arms with a death grip.

DJ moved toward his wife, but Ginger headed him off. She went to Harrie and put an arm around her.

“Sweetie, let’s don’t focus on this particular aspect of the situation. We have a plan, so let’s stick to it. You and DJ will take care of Katie until this whole thing is over. Nothing is going to happen right now. You have to reserve all your strength and resources to deal with the immediate situation of keeping Katie safe. Come on, we need to get back to her with all these clothes and toys we’ve gathered. She’ll feel better when she has her things around her.”

Harrie nodded, and unclasped the tight grip on her arms. Ginger put her arm around her shoulders and started back down the hall with her. She looked over her shoulder at DJ and smiled.

DJ smiled back and conveyed his unspoken “Thanks” with a nod of his head. Then he followed them and picked up the suitcase and canvas bag. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you back home. I want you to take Katie and go with my mother to her house. We have to get her where Bonnie Bellows won’t be able to find her. Do you agree?”

Harrie nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll pack clothes for you and me, and I’ll take my car.” She stopped suddenly and turned back. “We need a car seat for Katie. There must be one in Michael Rinaldi’s car.”

DJ said, “I’ll look in the garage.”

As they waited, Swannie walked in the door. “Hey, I thought DJ would be here by now.”

Harrie pointed to the garage door. “He’s out there, looking for Katie’s car seat. We’re going home right now, pack a few things, then take Katie to my mother-in-law’s house.”

Swannie said, “Didn’t DJ’s mom move to Canyon Estates? I think I heard that recently.”

Harrie nodded. “She did, but she’s been there more than a year now. We thought she’d never agree to move. It took her quite a while to decide it was okay to spend her inheritance.”

“You know,” Swannie said, “I was delighted when I heard Caroline was the beneficiary of old Daniel Snow’s millions. But I can understand her reluctance to spend it.”

“I do, too. But Caroline finally came to realize she could do a lot of good with that money, and she has.” Harrie looked at her watch. “DJ must be having trouble finding the car seat. I thought it would be in Rinaldi’s car.”

The garage door opened, and DJ came back in, empty-handed. Harrie looked at him. “Where’s the car seat?”

DJ shook his head. “I didn’t find one. I searched the entire garage. It’s not there.”

“Did you look in Rinaldi’s car?” Harrie asked.

DJ shrugged. “What car? There’s no automobile in that garage. There’s space for three of them, and there are tire marks where one used to be. But there’s no car.”

Harrie frowned. “Isn’t that rather odd? I mean a guy like that who worked at Sandia Labs. He’d have to have a car, wouldn’t he?”

Swannie said, “Just so you know, he did have a car. We found his auto insurance policy for a brand new, dark blue BMW. I’ve already put out a BOLO on it.”

DJ smiled. “Efficient, as always, Swannie. And I suspect when you locate the BMW, you’ll find your murderer.”

21

“I don’t know, DJ. This guy has been waiting a couple of hours. I told him I was in charge, and he could speak with me, but now he says he’ll only talk to the FBI, and the other agents have already left.”

The nameless man from earlier in the day had shown up again. Swannie never dreamed it would actually turn out to be the FBI’s problem. Harrie and Ginger had left with Katie’s toys and clothes. Swannie had asked DJ to stay behind, but DJ was anxious to get back to Harrie.

“Why me?” DJ asked.

“He says it involves national security, and he’ll only talk to the FBI. I tried to get him to at least give me his name, but he’s like a clam.”

DJ’s impatience to leave didn’t keep him from recognizing Swannie’s problem. He knew this couldn’t wait any longer. “Ok. I suppose Harrie and my mother can manage Katie without me for a while. Where is he?”

“I just put him in the den. Do you want me to go check on Harrie?”

DJ shook his head. “No. That’s all right. She sent Ginger out to get a car seat, and as soon as that’s done, they’re headed for Mom’s house.” He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. He suddenly felt very tired. “I might as well get this over.”

The man waiting in the den stood at the French doors, looking out towards the patio area. He was about 5 feet 11 inches, with a muscular build, dressed in an expensive dark blue suit. He turned when he heard the door open, and focused icy blue eyes on DJ. He had blond hair clipped close to his head. He didn’t look like a person you’d want to mess with.

DJ took out his credentials and extended them for the man to see. “I’m Special Agent DJ Scott. I understand you asked to speak to the FBI. How may I help you?”

The man studied the credentials briefly, then handed them back, and nodded to DJ. “Thank you for seeing me. I was beginning to think the FBI wasn’t interested in what I had to say.”

DJ said, “I assure you, if you have any information about our victim, or know who might have murdered him, we are definitely interested. May I ask who you are, and what is your connection to Michael Rinaldi?”

“My connection to Michael Rinaldi is—complicated. My name is—well, you can call me John.”

“Do you have a last name, John?” DJ felt irritation creeping into his voice, and he made a concerted effort to curb it.

John’s smile bordered on arrogance. “Smith.”

“Very well, Mr. Smith. Shall we sit over here?” DJ indicated the large game table by the fireplace. When they were settled, he took out his notepad and pen. John Smith watched him but didn’t speak at first. DJ wrote on the notepad, and then looked up.

“Where do you want to start?”

“I’ll start at the end. Just in case you’re wondering, I did not kill Michael Rinaldi. I had no reason to kill him. On the contrary, he was more useful to me alive.”

“And why is that?”

“How much do you know about Michael Rinaldi?”

DJ paused and capped his pen. “Mr. Smith, you asked to speak to a representative from the FBI. I’m here, ready to take down whatever you have to tell me. But I won’t be answering any of your questions. This is a murder case and a possible national security breach. Either tell me what you came to say, or this interview is over.”

Smith raised his eyebrows. “All right, no need to get angry. You can’t blame me for trying.”

DJ didn’t respond, and the two men stared at each other. Finally, John Smith dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I had a deal with Rinaldi. He was supposed to acquire an object for me. He told me he had it, and would give it to me today. We arranged to meet at a coffee shop this morning. When Rinaldi didn’t show, I decided to come here. I saw all the police cars and cops milling around. One of the neighbors was standing out in her yard and was only too happy to tell me what had happened.”

“What was Rinaldi supposed to give you?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

DJ frowned and shook his head. “What is your game, Mr. Smith?”

Smith stood and walked over to the French doors again. He appeared to be interested in the neat rows of vegetables, just beginning to bloom in the garden area. An antique wall clock ticked softly in the stillness. When he turned back, he seemed to have made a decision.

“I don’t know what he was supposed to give me because I wasn’t the person he made the deal with. I intercepted communications between Michael Rinaldi and a person of interest we’ve been watching. This person was a very nasty man who met a rather terrible end two days ago. I thought I could take his place and pick up the package.”

DJ studied this man, and all his alarm bells went off. “What agency are you with, Mr. Smith?”

Smith’s face was void of expression. “I’m not at liberty to say just yet. You can assume it’s an agency with several letters, doesn’t like publicity, and keeps a very close watch on certain people. It wasn’t Michael Rinaldi we were watching. It was his contact.”

“And you say this nameless contact is now dead?”

“Unfortunately, he is. And I suspect that whoever is responsible for his fate, may have also decided to take out Mr. Rinaldi.”

“But why? Who would want Michael Rinaldi dead?”

John Smith reached into his pocket and produced a business card. It was plain, white, with only an out-of-state phone number. He handed it to DJ.

“That, Special Agent Scott, is indeed the question. When you find out, perhaps you could contact me?”

22

“Lucy, it’s me!” Ginger’s voice rang out as she used her key to gain entrance into Harrie’s house. The best friends had exchanged keys years ago in case of emergency. It often came in handy.

Katie Rinaldi was happily playing with her newfound toys. Caroline and Harrie had been talking in hushed tones about the latest developments.

“We’re in here, Ethel!” Harrie sang out. She smiled as she remembered the hours of marathon “I Love Lucy” reruns she and Ginger had watched over the years. The two women had experienced their own “Lucy and Ethel” moments many times since they became friends. Ever since junior high, the redheaded Harrie had worn the “Lucy” nickname with a mixture of pride and dismay. It didn’t help that her middle name was Lucille, an effort by her mother to mollify Harrie’s aunt. But the name seemed almost prophetic. Her tendency for getting into trouble was legendary among her friends. And Ginger’s role as the despairing sidekick “Ethel” had been a natural fit.

Ginger put her purchase down on a chair, and Harrie looked at it in confusion. “How does one install this monster in an automobile? It’s huge!”

Ginger laughed. “Don’t worry. Steve’s on his way over. He has lots of experience with these things.” She looked at Katie, playing with one of her stuffed animals. “Are we just about ready to head out of here?”

“I’m all set. Katie’s clothes are ready. I’ve packed a few things for both DJ and me, and I have Tuptim in her carrier on top of the dryer. All I have to do is pack up Katie’s bag of toys. As soon as the car seat is in place, we’re out of here.”

Caroline stood and picked up her purse. “All right, then. If you’re okay here for now, I’m going on to my house and get things ready. Call me if you think of anything else we need. I’ll stop on the way and pick up milk and bananas. Katie looks like a banana girl to me.” She grinned at the little girl and gave her a hug. “I’ll see you later, Katie.”

Harrie walked Caroline to the front door. “Thanks, Caroline. You’ve been a big help. I don’t know what we would have done without you here to keep her occupied.”

“I loved every minute. I’ll see you soon.” Caroline closed the front door behind her.

For the first time since Harrie had discovered the small blonde child in her front yard, she felt an overwhelming tiredness seep into her body. She imagined she would look back on this day as yet another milestone in her life. Would they really let her keep Katie? She’d never considered the possibility of instant motherhood. How did this all work? My God! What if she couldn’t do it? She’d never spent much time around little kids—well except Ginger’s twin boys, of course. But just like that, to be responsible for a tiny life, a little child who had suffered the loss of both parents in such a short time. As she walked back into the family room, she looked over at Katie, who was absorbed in one of the storybooks. The child carefully pointed at each picture and chattered to herself. She seemed completely happy in her own little world.

Ginger, who had been unpacking the car seat from its box, saw Harrie’s expression as she watched Katie with her book. “Hey Red, what’s up? You’re quivering like a Chihuahua who just peed on the carpet.”

Harrie rubbed her arms. “Don’t you think it’s a bit chilly in here?”

Ginger’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? It’s freakin’ June! Have you been outside lately?” She went over and took Harrie by her shoulders.

“You are seriously scaring me, woman. What’s going on in that rat-maze brain of yours?”

Harrie dropped down into the nearest chair. “I am suddenly so tired.” She looked up at Ginger. “What am I getting myself into? Can I really do this?”

Ginger knelt down by Harrie’s chair. “You cannot be serious. You’re worrying about things that haven’t even happened yet. We don’t know what the outcome will be. Now is not the time to exhaust yourself fretting about things that may never come to pass.”

Harrie nodded. “I know. I think I’m just scared. What if I screw up? What if, in whatever amount of time she’s with us, I do something really stupid? I just never realized what an incredible responsibility I’d feel. How do parents ever adjust to this?”

Ginger laughed. “Welcome to the club, my dear friend. Everybody goes through this. All of us—at one time or another—wonder if we are qualified to take care of another human being who is so young and vulnerable. You’ll get used to it.”

“I hope you’re right. It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t just automatically know what to do. I’ve watched you and Steve, and you seem so certain about parenting.”

“That’s only because you weren’t there with us in the middle of the night when both boys had colic and cried for what seemed like hours. Believe me. Both Steve and I were lacking in confidence in the beginning. The twins were so small at birth, and I certainly didn’t start out expecting two babies. But you find that once you’re in the game, so to speak, you figure it out. You have to. There’s no other choice.”

“Ginger,” Harrie said in a low voice, “do you think Katie is unusually quiet and—oh I don’t know—docile?”

Ginger groaned. “You are impossible.”

Harrie sighed, and Ginger relented. “Oh all right. Look, if you’re comparing her to the twins, remember that little girls are usually the gentler sex. Whereas little boys seem to run around all day and get into everything, I’ve found little girls are often very content to quietly entertain themselves and pursue more gentle activities. Besides, she’s had a really busy, stressful day. Wait and see how she does tomorrow after a good night’s sleep.”

Harrie smiled. “Thanks for the advice, ‘Mom.’ If this permanent situation actually happens, I’ll be calling on you frequently.”

The doorbell rang and Ginger said, “At last. Steve’s here. While he’s installing the safety seat in the back of your car, you go gather up your little charge. We’ll pack up all this stuff and take off. You won’t have time to worry about things for the rest of the night.”

Steve came in, gave Harrie a hug, and he and Ginger headed for the garage with the car seat. Harrie put Katie’s shoes and socks on her for the trip over to Caroline’s. She talked softly to her new little friend while she got her ready. Katie watched with interest as Harrie gathered up the toys and put them in the canvas bag. When Ginger returned, Harrie picked up Katie and started for the garage.

“Do you mind if I make a suggestion from the outset?” Ginger reached for Katie, then put her down on the floor and took her hand. She leaned in to speak softly to Harrie.

“The child has a perfectly good set of legs. Don’t get in the habit of carrying her everywhere you go. She knows how to walk. Hold her hand, and let her get good at it. Plus, you’ll find it’ll save your back. You don’t want to still be carrying her around when she starts school. It could be really awkward, and I don’t think you’re big enough.

Steve came back to gather up the luggage and the cat carrier, while Ginger showed Harrie how to strap Katie in the child safety seat. Harrie practiced several times and felt she had the hang of it. She snapped it closed one more time and gave Katie one of the picture books from the toy bag. The child reached for it, opened it up, and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Harrie’s eyebrows arched, and Ginger chuckled softly.

“Don’t start worrying about that,” she said. “It’s perfectly natural, and it won’t hurt anything. It’s just her way of self comforting.”

Harrie frowned. “There’s so much to learn.”

“You’ll catch on. You’re a smart lady.” Ginger hugged her friend.

As Steve closed the trunk lid, he came around to the driver’s side and opened the door for Harrie.

“Call us if you need anything.”

“I will, but I’m fine, really I am. Thank you both for all you did today. You’re the best.” Harrie put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

Steve and Ginger waved to her. They watched until she drove away and turned the corner. When Ginger started toward their individual cars, Steve put his hand on her arm to stop her.

“What?” Ginger frowned at her husband.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of our favorite redhead. I was afraid she’d go off on another hair-brained mission.”

“Why? Please don’t tell me there’s another problem.”

He sighed. “Do you know anyone who drives a dark blue BMW?”

Ginger shrugged. “Not offhand.” Then her eyes opened wider. “Wait, a minute. Now that you mention it, Michael Rinaldi does, but it’s gone missing. Why do you ask?”

“Because something odd happened while I was installing the car seat. I was getting out of the backseat when I happened to glance out the rear window. I saw a dark blue BMW parked across the street.”

Ginger sighed with relief. “What’s so odd about that? There must be a dozen BMWs in this area of town.”

He shook his head. “Maybe so, but I doubt any of them would have a good reason for photographing Harrie and DJ’s house.”