The Equalizer (18 page)

I opened the door and her arms reached out and pulled me into a hug.

“Mom, what brings you here without a phone call first?”

“I’m just passing through. I was in St. Cloud picking up some pottery for the store from a gal who sells us pieces at a steal. Here, I thought this would look nice on your shelf!” She handed me a handsome black-and-brown vase then pushed her way inside.

“Thanks. Won’t you come in?” I said to the now empty doorway.

Mom eyed Victoria and the duffle and said, “Oh, you have company. Hi, I’m Hope Sheehan.” She extended her hand to Victoria who in turn introduced herself.

Victoria motioned toward the Chinese cartons and said, “Join us for dinner—we have plenty.”

Mom quickly agreed and Victoria started moving the cartons to my square counter high table. Not quite believing this was happening, I grabbed plates and forks and set the table for three.

“So, how long have you been seeing each other?” Mom asked, not wasting any time. She was overly anxious for me to marry . . . she cried for a week when I broke up with Adriana.

“Not long,” I said.

Victoria blushed. “Actually, I’m staying with Cal because I’ve been receiving terroristic threats and he’d thought I’d be safer here.”

“Oh, my, terrorist threats? Tell me about it.”

“Someone’s been sending me threatening quotes from Bible scripture—like I didn’t listen to the truth and I will die, that sort of thing, and today someone hung a dead crow from my doorknob. It was disgusting and kind of unnerving.”

“I should say so. But you two
are
dating?”

Victoria grinned. “Yes, we went to Vegas together this weekend.”

Mom cocked her head and gave me her Mona Lisa smile. I stifled a groan.

“Well, tell me all about yourself. What do you do? Where are you from?” Mom asked.

I sighed. Victoria and mother prattled on through the entire meal. Mom, as usual, had too much wine and so I offered to drive her to a motel. Victoria said she should sleep on the couch, and mom quickly agreed. So there we were, the three of us, watching
The African Queen
.

Chapter 22

DAY THIRTEEN

W
hen I woke, the sun
was peeking through the slots in the blinds. Victoria padded out of the bathroom wearing one of my T-shirts.

“You’re awake,” she said and sat on the bed cross-legged revealing she had nothing on under my shirt. “If you have eggs and cheese, I’ll make us an omelet.”

“That might be about all I do have,” I said. “Ah, could you dress—with my mother here and all?”

As she stripped off the shirt and I saw her beautiful body, a twinge of desire shot through me. I didn’t want to be turned on by her anymore. I got up, threw on some sweats, and took Bullet outside. When I returned, Mom and Victoria were talking about making breakfast. I showered and got dressed. After, they were chummily visiting like two old friends.

As we sat down to eat, Mom said, “Victoria said she’d loved to see the store. You two should drive over for dinner soon.”

My response was, “The eggs are good.”

Victoria smiled. “Thanks. It’s one of the few things I can cook.”

I was so uncomfortable with the situation I gobbled down my breakfast so I could get the hell out of there. I said I had to leave for work and thankfully mom said she did as well. I didn’t want either one pumping the other for information. I walked mom out to her car and of course she was all excited about the new girlfriend.

“Oh, she’s a pretty one, Cal—and so refined—of course, your Adriana was too. Do bring her with you next time you come home.”

“Mom, we aren’t really a couple.”

“Didn’t you sleep with her last night?”

I sighed. “It was over before it started. Okay?”

“Okay, whatever you say. Well, I’d better run!”

“And next time, call before you drop by.”

“You’re right. My bad.”

I gave her a half-hearted hug and watched her roll out. I went back into the apartment, pulled out an extra key and gave it to Victoria.

“Come and go as you want. I’ll tell the manager you’re here and to keep an eye out for you. If you can ever take Bullet outside, that’d be nice.”

“Can I take him for a run this morning?”

“If you’d feel safe. Look, I work late most nights, so just do your own thing.”

“Cal, I have no expectations, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know that this—arrangement—doesn’t mean anything to either of us.”

Doesn’t mean anything?
“Well, okay then, see you later.”

“Your mom is adorable.”

I nodded. Not my adjective.

I stopped by the Kohler’s
to take a look at the Ford F150. Ham Fairchild and Eleanor were waiting for me in the driveway. The truck, at twelve thousand, was a sweet deal—one a cheap person like me couldn’t pass up—even if the former owner was a dead man. I made out a check and handed it to Eleanor, which I think surprised Fairchild—he expected to get my loan business. She told her dad she could handle the title transfer at the DMV, so he took off to look important at the bank.

As Eleanor and I drove to the courthouse, I reminded her about the note she found in the Town Car. As she turned to respond, the bright light cast on her face revealed dark puffy circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin.

“Yes, I plan to give it to you when we get back to the house. Truthfully, I didn’t want Dad to see it. He over reacts to such things.”

“Sorry to bother you with this truck sale today. I’m sure it’s the last thing you wanted to take care.”

“No, it’s good to have this done.”

After we transferred the title, we drove back to Eleanor’s and she said, “Come in. I’ll get the note.”

When we entered, the house seemed too quiet. “Can I offer you some coffee?

“Sure, I could use a cup.”

She pushed a basket of individual Kcups in front of me and told me to pick the kind I wanted.

As I handed her a Starbucks dark roast, I asked, “How are you?”

“Embarrassed.”

“Why? You shouldn’t be. You’ve been through hell and back.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve made the return trip from hell yet.”

“It takes time.”

She handed me one of the two individual brewed cups of coffee.

“Smells good—like Northwood’s.” I took a sip. “Taste’s good, too. I might have to buy a Keurig.”

“Let me get what you came here for,” she said as she walked to the desk. She opened a drawer, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, walked back and handed it to me. I grabbed it with a tissue.

“Oh, I’ve touched it,” she said.

“Did Betty get your prints?”

“Yes,” she said.

The message was written on the backside of the Cadillac Jack’s menu in black marker.

LEAVE HER ALONE YOU FUCK

NEXT TIME YOU WON’T BE SO LUCKY

“Do you know who the ‘her’ is referring to?” I asked as I placed the note in a plastic evidence bag.

Her chin quivered. “I’m assuming Ted’s secretary, Lisa Kelly. About a week before he died, Ted told me Jack Whitman stopped by one day and told him Lisa made up a story about Ted making a pass at her. Jack figured she either had a crush on him or wanted to make her boyfriend jealous. Ted asked me if he should fire her—I told him to talk to her and give her another chance. When I found the note, I had the thought her boyfriend killed Ted.”

“He was cleared, but why didn’t you tell me who you suspected?”

“Jack knew, so I assumed you did. Besides, I thought it had been resolved.”

“Has anyone been over to examine the Town Car?”

“No, Dr. Madison, our dentist, bought it three days ago.”

Three days ago? Shit! How did we botch that?

As I was about to leave, I realized I had to somehow return the rental. “Is it okay if I come back for the truck later? I have to return the rental first.”

“To Daniels? I’ll give you a lift. My mom still has the kids.”

“All right.”

On the drive over Eleanor asked, “Cal, had you ever met my husband?”

“No. Everyone said he was a good man.”

“He was. You’d have liked him. He didn’t deserve to be gunned down—like an animal.”

“I’m sorry we aren’t solving this quickly, but we will solve it.” Who was I trying to convince?

It felt a bit odd
driving a dead man’s truck around town—it seemed everyone I passed did a double take. I kept reassuring myself the purchase was a good decision. When I got to the department, I entered the note into evidence, then found Ralph to update him.

“I’ll ask Doc Madison if we can have the lab look at the Town Car anyway. Can’t hurt. So, how does the new truck run?” Ralph said.

“Good, but I haven’t had it on the highway.”

“Why not take it to Brainerd later this afternoon and have another talk with Johnston. All we have is his lying girlfriend’s word and, as you said, anyone could get rid of a weapon.”

Mid-afternoon, I drove
to Brainerd to speak with Johnston. Bullet loved to ride so I stopped by and picked him up. He stuck his nose in the two-inch opening of the passenger window—he closed his eyes, luxuriating in the experience. But it was a wasted trip: the secretary at the tile plant where Johnston worked said he’d taken vacation days. She gave me his home address, mentioning he still lived with his parents.

The Johnstons lived in a large white house with black shutters in an older part of town. When a short, rotund woman somewhere around fifty answered the door, I introduced myself and handed her my card.

“I’d like to speak with Mike,” I said.

“He’s not home. My husband and sons went duck hunting right after work yesterday. They’ll be back Sunday. Is there a problem?”

“I just have a few questions for him.”

“He’s not in any trouble, is he? He’s always been such a good boy.”

“Can you give him a message for me? Tell him we have the test results back for the Town Car.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’ll know.”

I was blowing smoke but Johnston wouldn’t know it.

On the way back,
I stopped by the public landing on Lake Emmaline hoping whatever went down would appear to me in a vision or something. I parked in the lot, put in my ear buds, and turned on my iPod Nano to the fine trumpet sounds of Chris Botti, which always relaxed me. Bullet sniffed excitedly and moved through the edge of the woods, while I made my way to where the casings were found. I surveyed the area and stopped to focus on the landing—now without a dock. I imagined the shooter’s clear shot. I turned and looked toward where Ronny’s body was found. The shooter would have had to move several yards to get a clear shot. Witnesses reported a delay between shots.

As I made my way to where I thought the shooter stood then toward where Ronny’s body was found, Bullet followed without my urging. Leaves were floating down with regularity now and soon the deciduous trees would be bare.

“Sheehan?”

I jumped and turned to see Ben Whitman. I pulled out my earphones.
“Geez, Ben, I didn’t see you come up behind me.”

Bullet ran to him. He leaned over to scratch his ears. “We have a chocolate lab,” he said.

Zach appeared from behind a tree.

“You know my son, Zach,” Ben said.

“Sure.”

I was uneasy as I watched Zach kneel to pet Bullet.

“Are you driving Ted Kohler’s truck?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, I just bought it.”

“It’s just eerie for us to see it parked here.”

“I bet.”

“Nice dog you got here,” Zach said. “Maybe you should have orange on him. He might get mistaken for a deer.” A second later, he broke into a grin.

“It’s not hunting season,” I said.

“Poachers will shoot at anything. I wouldn’t want this nice dog to get hurt.”

Ben put a hand up silencing his son. “Let’s go. We’re already late,” he said. As they started to walk away, Bullet started to follow. I had to whistle for him to come back to me. That was freaking strange. There’s something about Zach I didn’t like or trust.

When I was on my way
back into town, I received a phone call from Naomi Moberg.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No, what do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that I thought we clicked and then you didn’t call.”

“Ah, you put me off—said you were going to have the kids.”

“Well, the kids are with their dad now. Want to come over for dinner?”

“Yeah,” I said without really thinking it through. “But I have some paperwork to do first.”

“Anytime is fine,” she said.

I felt a pang of guilt. I have Victoria living at my house—but she did say the relationship doesn’t mean anything. There. Justified.

Victoria wasn’t around when I dropped off Bullet, watered and fed him. So I made my way over to Naomi’s. She answered the door, barefoot and wearing a pair of jeans and a striped knit top that hugged her body. An aroma of roasting meat filled the air.

“Mmm. Smells good in here,” I said.

She smiled and moved in for a hug and kiss. “Pot roast with all the trimmings. Thought you could use a good home cooked meal.”

“I have a woman living at my place,” I blurted.

She stepped back and scrunched up her nose. “You’re
living
with someone?”

“Victoria Lewis. She’s sort of in protective custody.”

“Why?”

“She’s been receiving threatening Bible quotes.”

“Like the one in the paper?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. So you think she’s a potential victim?”

“That’s what Troy thinks.”

“She seems like an opportunist. She’s probably writing them herself.”

“No, she’s genuinely freaked.”

She turned her back to me and looked out the window.

“Don’t worry about Victoria, okay? I have no future with her.”

She turned and faced me, smiled. “I’m glad you’re here tonight. Would you like a beer or a glass of Pinot?”

“A Pinot sounds good.”

Over dinner I steered the conversation toward her work and kids—and not another word was mentioned about Victoria. Naomi and I had similar values: family, honesty, loyalty, and we both give our jobs two hundred percent.

Later, we made love slowly and tenderly, and as I held her in my arms, she said, “I don’t want you to leave me tonight.”

“But Bullet.”

“Next time, bring him with you.”

On the drive home
, it occurred to me she never asked if I slept with Victoria. I wouldn’t have lied.

When I walked into the apartment, I found Victoria sleeping on the sofa. I covered her with a blanket and went to bed. At 1:13 a.m., I received a call from dispatch to report to the strip mall on the north end of town near Birch County Community College campus. There had been a burglary. Since I was on call for the week, I dressed quietly and slipped out.