The Killing Game (24 page)

Andi started shaking visibly. “Reaction,” she said, embarrassed thinking of Carter’s cutting remark. “Or overreaction.”

“Hey, none of that.” Luke put an arm around her. “You have a right to be upset.” He glanced at the parking area. “Do you want to leave your car? I can drive you.”

“No.” She shook her head and let out a long breath. “I don’t want to leave my car. But can you come to the cabin? I want to go home, but I want to work out our arrangement. I want a bodyguard.”

“I’ll follow you. Drive safe.”

“I need to stop by the office first,” she realized. “Pick up the mail. Sort through a few things?”

“I’m right behind you,” he said.

Chapter Fifteen

Sirocco Realty’s Laurelton offices were inside a Georgian-style brick building that took up an entire block in what served as Laurelton’s city center: a cross street on the highway through town that led back to Highway 26. There was no municipal architectural planning. The city had just built up around the main road in a hodgepodge fashion where sidewalks rimmed parking lots.

September walked beside Gretchen but took the lead when they entered the offices and were met with the receptionist whose name tag read Tracy. Gretchen had refused to see Mr. Bromward first, and though her high-handedness irked September, she hadn’t really felt like dealing with the old man and the cats much either. “After lunch,” Gretchen had said, and September had agreed.

“May I help you?” Tracy said perkily. She had short dark hair and an elfin look that was accentuated by her green sweater and slacks.

“We’re here to meet Kitsy Hasseldorn. I called earlier; Detective Rafferty,” September clarified. “I left a message and Mrs. Hasseldorn called me back and said she would be in the office after eleven.”

Tracy stared at September as if she hadn’t understood the message. “Detective?” she finally said.

“That’s right.”

“Oh, uh. I don’t know if Kitsy’s in. I didn’t see her.”

At that moment another woman walked out from the inner offices. “She’s here,” she assured the receptionist. “I just saw her.” She smiled briefly at September and Gretchen.

“Musta been when I was on break,” Tracy said. “I’ll call her desk.” She seemed boggled by Gretchen and September. “Kitsy? Oh, hey, there’s a detective here to see you, and another woman.”

“Also a detective,” Gretchen said.

“Yeah, okay.” Tracy hung up the phone. “You can go right back. It’s down that hall, the last office on the right.”

“Thank you,” September said.

“Not the brightest lamp in the room,” Gretchen remarked when they were out of earshot.

Kitsy Hasseldorn’s office was adorned with Halloween decorations, one being a full-sized plastic skeleton standing in the corner. Gretchen walked over to get a closer look as Kitsy, all five foot three of her, stood up and shook hands with September.

“Police detectives,” she said, smiling uncertainly. “And you want to know about Tommy Burkey? That’s what the message was?”

“That’s right. Burkey’s Tommy’s last name?”

“If he’s the one you mean.”

“He apparently mowed lawns for some of the residents on Aurora Lane.”

“That’s Tommy Burkey all right. He did yardwork when he was a kid,” Kitsy said. “What do you want him for?”

“We’re investigating the death of an unidentified male whose bones were found in the Singletons’ basement,” Gretchen said, giving up her perusal of the skeleton to take the other club chair across from Kitsy. September had seated herself in one already.

“Oh, yeah. I saw that on the news. And the Singletons poisoned each other?”

“That’s the way it looks,” September said.

She shook her head. “Sounds just like them.”

“You knew them.” September made it a statement.

“Not really. We only lived in the neighborhood a couple of years, but they were memorable. They were always sniping at each other . . . whenever they got out of their cars, if they were both outside, one of them getting the mail and the other on the porch.... They were always yelling. Always.” She frowned, little lines appearing between her eyebrows as she remembered. “I suppose I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but they weren’t nice people, that’s for sure.”

“We’re trying to determine if Tommy Burkey’s bones could be the ones in the basement,” Gretchen explained.

Her face clouded over. “I suppose . . . it’s just that . . .”

“What?” Gretchen prodded impatiently.

“Tommy was just kind of a goof, y’know? He mowed our lawn a few times, but he did a terrible job. He just didn’t pay attention to detail. Randall went back to taking care of it. It was just easier. I’ve always just pictured Tommy off somewhere, still being goofy.”

“How old was Tommy when he mowed your lawn?” September questioned.

“About eleven, probably.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Thirteen years, give or take.”

That didn’t jibe with what September knew to be the age of the unidentified bones. “Do you recall any other boy from that time period? He would have been about eighteen. Maybe he knew the Singletons?”

“There were those renters,” she said reluctantly. “They had a son, but I hardly saw him. He was a drug addict.”

“And he was about eighteen at that time?” September asked.

“About.”

“Did he know the Singletons?” Gretchen pressed.

“Yes ... I think so ...” Kitsy was taking more and more time answering. “I don’t recall their last name, something like ‘shoe,’ I think.”

“I can check with their landlord,” September said.

Gretchen put in, “How well did this kid know the Singletons? Did he know Davinia Singleton?”

Kitsy pressed her lips together, clearly reluctant to speak. “Yes.”

“When he was in high school?” Gretchen fished around.

“Well, he wasn’t an adult when it started,” Kitsy said. “Almost, maybe. But he wasn’t eighteen for sure.”

“
It
?” September asked.

Kitsy reacted in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were talking about the affair.”

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Gretchen jumped in. “Davinia’s affair with a much younger man, who sounds like he could have been a minor.”

“Well, I can’t say for sure.” Kitsy backed right down. “That was the rumor of course. And there were drugs involved, which is really why he got involved with Davinia; because she had the money, you know. That’s what my husband, Randall, always thought anyway. But then Nathan ran the car off the road and killed them both, and that ended it.”

“What happened to him—the kid—after that?”

Kitsy considered. “Oh, I don’t know.” Again her eyebrows puckered. “It kind of seems like the boy was gone first. I’d have to ask Randall. He’s better at dates than I am. I think he ran off or something, but I’m pretty sure it was before Nate drove the car off the cliff. The Singletons sure wanted everyone to think it was an accident, but we had our doubts.”

“You can’t recall his name?” September asked again. She’d pulled out her notebook and was writing down Kitsy’s comments.

“I just said I don’t know,” she said a little impatiently. “We just called him the druggie, y’know? He was always with other scruffy-looking guys. I heard one of ’em had money, but you sure couldn’t tell by looking at ’em. They were all the same, like their faded baggy jeans and hoodies were some kind of uniform.”

“Any of these other guys live on Aurora Lane?” Gretchen asked.

“I don’t think so. You could ask the Myleses. You know them?”

“We’ve met,” September said.

“Grace used to know everyone, but she’s got some dementia now.” Kitsy said it carefully, as if even mentioning the word would make the disease visit upon her.

“I interviewed Grace,” September admitted.

“At that assisted living place?” Kitsy was surprised.

“She’s the one who remembered Tommy.”

“Ah.” Kitsy shook her head. “My mother had dementia before she died. Terrible.”

September nodded, then tried to ease her back to the subject at hand. “Anything else you can remember about the ‘druggie’ kid?”

She grimaced. “Don’t say that came from me. We just didn’t know his name, so we had to call him something. But if you find Tommy Burkey, he might know what happened to him.”

“They were friends?” September asked, surprised because of the age difference.

“The kid was quite a bit older than Tommy,” Kitsy said. “Maybe six years or so? But I saw them together a few times, sometimes with some of those other scruffy kids, too. Tommy’s mother let him run wild. She paid no attention to who he was hanging with. It’s a wonder he was as nice as he was, but then he was . . . a little bit mentally challenged, almost like he had dementia himself sometimes.”

September remembered the Burkey name from the list of previous Aurora Lane owners she’d compiled. The Burkeys had never returned her calls. “Which house did the Burkeys live in?” September asked.

“They were catty-corner to the Singletons, and the rental house with the druggie kid was a couple doors down from the Singletons, toward the main road. All those houses on that side have land that borders that old farm, which is acres and acres.”

September knew the area well now. “And part of the farmland ends up at Schultz Lake.”

“That’s right.”

“The druggie’s house was on the same side of the street as the Singletons and Mr. Bromward?” Gretchen asked.

She nodded.

They asked her some more questions about the residents of Aurora Lane, but Kitsy Hasseldorn was tapped out. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help,” she said as she followed them out. Tracy, the receptionist, was on the phone as they approached, but upon seeing Kitsy, she hung up and sat straighter in her chair, her smile as fake as her breasts.

* * *

Andi was furious with Carter. Now that reaction had set in, she wanted to kill him. How could he just call up the Carreras? He
knew
how she felt. If Luke hadn’t come and supported her, she didn’t know what she’d have done.

She climbed out of her car at the office and waited for Luke to park and get out, too. She knew that half of her just wanted him to be around, but the other half sought safety and protection. That was what she told herself anyway, and it didn’t matter in any case because he was here and she was glad.

She was shivering when he reached her.

“You okay?” he asked, looking down at her in a way that made her stomach flutter.

“I’m more mad than scared now.”

“I’m going to want the blow-by-blow of what happened once we get to the cabin.”

“I’ll just be a minute.”

“I’m coming in with you.”

She gave a short laugh but didn’t argue as she entered the building. They walked across the glossy black tile of the entry foyer to the two elevators that led to the upper floors.

“What’s Carter’s game?” he asked.

“He’s focused on getting more financing for the company at any cost. He expanded too soon, all in the name of saving money in the long run. He’s not wrong, he’s just . . . he always takes the easy way. That’s what Greg used to say, and it’s proven to be true.”

The elevator dinged for the floor of Wren Development. Andi unlocked the main office door and found a pile of mail left on the edge of their part-time receptionist’s desk. She swept it up as she unlocked her office door and headed straight to the credenza, where her phone charger was still plugged in, its cord a neat coil.

Luke came in after her. “This is your office?”

“Yeah. Now.” She put the charger in her purse. “We should be in something less expensive, but we have a lease that isn’t up for another year and a half. It wasn’t a problem until we started building the lodge. I think it’s all going to be great in the end, but it may have been too big a project in scope.”

“You’re building a hotel.”

“A large hotel,” Andi agreed. “I think we have the resources to do it, but Carter’s put us out on a limb. Greg was more conservative, and so am I.”

“Where does Emma stand on all this?”

“Mostly she agreed with Greg, and now with me, but now she’s less reliable than ever. We need some checks and balances.” She looked up at him. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

He smiled. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Yes, you have.” She plucked a white envelope addressed to her from the pile of notices and junk mail. No return address. A feeling of déjà vu and dread stole over her.

“What?” Luke asked, seeing her face.

Andi opened her top desk drawer and plucked out a letter opener. She slit open the top of the envelope and carefully pulled out the hard note card within. At the same moment she read
It’s too bad when little birds have to die
, they heard the elevator bell ding. Luke was beside Andi in a moment, reading the note.

“This came through the mail?” he demanded tersely.

“Yes.”

She was still holding the card, albeit in shaking hands, when they heard a male voice ask, “Carter?”

Luke was out Andi’s door in an instant and looked toward the reception area. Andi could see him but not their visitor. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“I’m looking for Carter Wren.” Then, more curiously, “Who are you?”

Andi lay the note carefully on her desk, went to the door, and peered out. Scott Quade stood by Jill’s desk, frowning at Luke. As soon as he saw Andi, he said, “Oh, it’s you. I called Carter and he said he would be here, but I can talk to you.”

“Is Mimi all right?” she asked, hearing how tight her voice was. Luke reached a hand back to her, touching her arm in support.

“You saw her. Did she look all right?” he demanded belligerently.

“What do you want?” Luke was terse.

“Luke, this is Scott Quade,” Andi introduced belatedly.

“Mimi’s brother,” Luke said, never taking his eyes off Scott.

“Well, great. I still don’t know who you are,” Scott said. “But you sure act like you have some authority around here.”

“Luke’s a private investigator,” Andi said as the elevator began to hum, called by someone on another floor.

Scott blinked in surprise. “You work for the company?”

“What did you want to talk about?” Andi asked, her voice sounding as if it were coming from a long way away. She was trying to act normally, but she could hardly think straight. Her mind was still on the note and what it meant. She wanted to throw herself into Luke’s arms and never let go.