Chapter Twenty-One

Amybeth Bell lived in a three family-unit built with a pale brick exterior and windows that were slightly too small and a porch that was slightly too large. It vaguely resembled a child’s drawing of what they thought a house looked like.

Bell was written on a slip next to the middle buzzer. “Hello?” wafted her disembodied voice after I’d pressed it twice.

“Delivery,” I said.

“Come up! Second floor.” The door clicked and I pushed it and headed for the stairs, Garrett on my heels. As I reached the landing, a door opened, and a woman with brassy blond hair and a quarter inch of dark roots poked her head out. “You have a delivery for me?” she asked, surveying us warily.

Garrett held up his shield.

“I didn’t order one of those,” she said as she stepped back, knocking the door closed with a disinterested slam. I skidded across the hallway and wedged my foot in the frame, wincing as the door hit me.

“Lieutenant Graves, MPD,” said Garrett when Amybeth drew back the door. “We have some questions for you about Kelvin Huff.”

“Who?”

“Kelvin Huff, resident of Barnham Correctional Facility. He says you’re his girlfriend,” lied Garrett.

“Oh, that idiot,” she snorted.

“So you’re not his girlfriend?”

“Not anymore. Well, like, not really ever. How can you be someone’s girlfriend if you’ve never been on a date? I don’t think so.”

“She has a point,” I said.

“Thank you! Who are you?” she asked, her attention returning to me.

“Lexi Graves, PI.”

“Like a bounty hunter?”

“Like completely different.”

“Like a detective?”

“Yes, but without a dental plan.”

“Your teeth seem okay.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“You should get Solomon to invest in a dental plan for the staff,” said Garrett.

“We have a dental plan. I was trying to make a point that there are some differences between police and private investigators,” I said.

“By lying?” asked Amybeth.

“No. Well, yes,” I said, “but it wasn’t a lie. It was a metaphor. Sort of.”

“I don’t know what that is but I know what lying is.”

“What kind of plan are you on?” asked Garrett.

“Are you two married?” asked Amybeth.

“No!” we both shouted.

Amybeth raised her eyebrows. “Sure act like you’re married. Bit of an age gap romance so it must be your personality because cops don’t have money,” she added, giving Garrett a look that scanned his nose to his toes.

“We’re brother and sister,” I said.

This time, Amybeth pulled an appalled face. “You two should not be married! That’s not legal, dental plan or not. Even being cousins is sketchy.”

“We are not married!” we squawked.

“That’s a good thing since you work together… and are related.” Amybeth grimaced.

“We don’t work together either,” said Garrett.

“You two are very confusing. I have to go now. I have a hair appointment.” Amybeth stepped back. “Tell that no good Kelvin to stop calling me. It’s annoying.”

“Wait. How did you meet him?” I asked.

“Who?”

“Kelvin Huff!”

She sighed and rolled her eyes but surprised me by staying and saying, “I volunteer with a correspondence service for prisoners who don’t have long to serve on their sentences. It’s supposed to help them develop friendly relationships to prepare for their life outside. Kelvin sent me a letter. We wrote back and forth a few months and I visited him a couple times at his last facility. He got transferred closer to here and wanted me to visit him again. I said no but he started laying it on thick.”

“Laying what on?” Garrett asked.

“Romance?” I clarified and she nodded.

“Yeah. I was being friendly and he was like ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I ever saw’ and ‘I’m the luckiest man ever to meet someone like you’ and all this talk about how he was going to sweep me off my feet and treat me like a princess.”

“That sounds awful,” said Garrett.

“Don’t mock me,” she snipped, giving Garrett a filthy look. “Women know when it’s being put on insincerely. At first, the compliments were nice, you know, but then there were way too many. I was happy to put him in touch with some services that could help him out but then he told me he put my address down with his parole officer as his residence! He said we could make a go of things and that he would be ashamed of taking me to a hostel because he just wanted to cook for me in our own kitchen. Our ! I mean, please . He thought I was just going to let him move in with me, sleep in my bed, and financially support him fully, just because he threw a few nice words my way.” She snorted.

“Totally get it,” I said.

“And when I said no, then he really wouldn’t let up. He started pleading, saying I was his only hope of making it on the outside,” she said in a mock whine, “and he couldn’t make it without me, and it would just tear him up not to make a go of things with a good woman. That he’d never loved anyone like this.”

“Playing on your heart strings,” I said.

“With the strings of a tiny, invisible violin,” Amybeth said, nodding. “It was like he was using every line he ever heard and when he realized none of them were working, then he just tried bombarding me instead. No thank you. I told him I do not want to support a man.”

“What did he say to that?”

She rolled her eyes. “He had a big pie-in-the-sky idea that it wouldn’t be long, just a month or two. He’d get a basic job and pay his way, and then he knew someone who owed him and as soon as he collected, he’d buy me anything I wanted! He said I could quit my job and we could go on the road and be free spirits. There was no way I was falling for his scheme.”

“Who did he say owed him?” asked Garrett.

“Some old friend of his. Apparently, he owed him big time.” She spread her hands wide.

“Did he mention how he was going to collect it? Or where?” I asked.

“Some cockamamie story about a safe deposit box and he knew where the key was. I asked him and said your friend just left you a fortune in it, did he? And he said, yeah, and had the biggest shit-eating grin you ever saw. You know what I thought? Hmm?” She looked from Garrett to me.

“No?” I said.

She laughed scathingly. “I thought it was a pile of crap. I told him to stop calling me and I don’t believe in one-day paydays. You either have money now or you don’t. Anything else, without a solid plan, is just a story you made up for yourself and I’m not falling for another man who makes up stories.”

“Sensible,” I said.

“Or maybe I’ll get a cat,” she said. “Either way, I don’t want anything to do with that loser and tell him to stop calling me. I’ve already told his parole officer that he’s not moving in with me and I am not his girlfriend!” She stepped back and slammed the door shut.

“Well,” said Garrett, taking a breath. He raised his eyebrows.

“I kind of like her,” I said. We turned and headed for the stairs.

“Jury’s out on her like-ability but her information tallies with everything else we guessed. I have no idea why he thought he was going to get the jewels from a safe deposit box. I haven’t found any indication there was one under Charlie Black’s name or any other alias.”

“I’ll bet that’s what Charlie Black told him to get him off his back. It makes sense that he would pretend the jewels were elsewhere. Otherwise, why didn’t Kelvin just steal them from his pocket there and then? Black probably told Huff that the key was hidden somewhere, maybe even back in New York, and that everyone needed to lie low for a while until the heat died down on the heist. But Huff got antsy and wanted his cut now.” I raised my hand, pointing a finger between Garrett’s eyes. “He’s waving the gun around and it goes off. Now he’s got a dead body on his hands and he still needs to track down the make-believe key so he does what Black originally suggests. He lies low, intending to come back.”

Garrett gently smacked my hand down. “That all sounds very nice but we still can’t prove it. It’s not even a case of manslaughter or accidental death or murder. We have nothing that places Huff at Joe Smithson’s house then or ever.”

As we got into his car, Garrett’s phone rang and he answered, listening, then saying quickly, “No, of course not. Why would I authorize that? It doesn’t matter. I’m on my way back. Any news on the car? It hasn’t? Well, let me know when it turns up. I want a report on it ASAP.” He disconnected, grumbling to himself. “I have to head back to the station. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“No need. Solomon had it picked up to check it over.”

“Can you get Solomon to pick you up? I’d feel a lot better if someone came to get you, given everything that’s happened.”

“I’ll call him. Or if Jord is in his office, he might take me home.” I checked my phone, unsure whether to be relieved that I hadn’t received any further messages after Solomon texted to say my car was now back at the agency. Did that mean Solomon hadn’t found anything yet? “Do you really think we should be worried?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“I’m more afraid of Mom. I don’t want to tell her you got kidnapped, shot or stabbed.”

“That hardly ever happens. Recently,” I added.

“Let’s keep it that way, and definitely not on my watch.”

“Plus, it was your car that was tampered with,” I reminded him.

“It shouldn’t escape your notice that you were in it.”

“You make it sound like I’m a bad omen.”

“Not at all.”

“Aww, th-” I started.

“I prefer disaster magnet.”

By the time we were only a block from the station, the conversation had returned back to tossing ideas around about Kelvin Huff and Charlie Black in his many guises, but we were no closer to a definitive answer.

“Slow down,” I said as the light began to turn.

“I can make it through the light!” Garrett protested.

“No, slow down and look over there.” I pointed to the SUV across the road from the station as we slowed to a stop. Two men sat in it. “That’s Maddox.”

“Not unusual.”

“To sit in his car, staring at the station?”

“Yup. I do it all the time.”

“With your partner? I couldn’t quite see but I’ll bet Special Agent Farid is next to him.”

“With an array of detectives. Depends on who’s free and if I mind sharing my snacks. Or if their snacks are better than my snacks.”

“But you work there! You have an office!”

“People come into my office. They leave me alone in my car. Anyway, ignore Maddox. He probably has an appointment in the building and it’s not with me. Let’s go in and you can call for a ride or see if Jord’s around. We can get together tomorrow and see if we have any bright ideas overnight because, right now, I’m stumped. It feels like we’ve got the beginning and the end and enough in the middle to join it together but I want a watertight case. And I want to know who’s following us. The only person I can rule out sticking a tracker on my car is Kelvin Huff, but since you’re involved, and who knows what the heck will happen with you around, I don’t want to go in one hundred percent on that.”

The lights changed and Garrett accelerated. I looked back at Maddox’s vehicle as we passed it and frowned. I wouldn’t rule him out as the culprit either. He’d been acting weird ever since the night we fell through the ceiling.

“Okay, fine,” I said.

“I’m switching cars every day until we know what’s going on,” he said as he parked the car out front rather than heading around to the lot. I followed him as we walked towards the station.

Outside the main entrance, a family were shouting at each other while two officers attempted to intervene and keep them apart. A teenager whizzed past me on a skateboard, then another, forcing me to take a couple of steps behind Garrett. I hurried to catch up, sidestepping the two young women in uniform until I realized one was my cousin.

“Hey, Tara,” I said, lifting a hand to wave.

“Hey, you! I’m heading out on a call. Let’s catch up later? I hear you’re working on that cold case. Can’t wait to hear all about it!” Tara grinned as she moved past me to follow her partner.

I turned away, catching the eye of another female officer exiting the building as she pushed sunglasses onto her sweetheart face, adjusting them as she turned away.

Something about her was familiar but then, so was half of MPD. I was either related to them, knew someone who dated them, knew them socially, or I’d dated one or more of them.

A few steps from the entrance and I grabbed Garrett’s arm.

“What?” he asked.

“That was her!”

“Who?” He looked over my head.

“Her! One of the women from Maddox’s photos. That was her.” I paled, the fuller picture filling my head. “And she was wearing a police uniform.”

“What are you talking about?”

Garrett’s words were lost to the breeze as I turned on my heel, running back the way I came. I reached the sidewalk, looking left and right. The warring family were still arguing, and several people idled, but the uniformed police woman was nowhere in sight.

“Are you sure?” Garrett asked when he reached me. “You recognized someone from a photo?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Maddox showed me photos of the suspect in his case. A thief! It was her. Her hair was different, but she had a police issue hat on and her makeup was different but it was her. I’m sure it was. Garrett, why would someone Maddox is looking for be wearing a police uniform here?” I stopped, a new thought coming to me. “He said she was a thief. What did she have access to?”

“The evidence locker,” Garrett and I said at the same time.

We turned to each other and my stomach dropped. “The jewels,” we said. As soon as we locked eyes, Garrett was taking off, running to the police station. He created the path as we barged through the main doors, across the lobby and into the building, not slowing down until we reached the evidence locker.

A detective was walking out, staring at her receipt, as we entered. The sergeant on the other side of the thick wire screen was making notes. Otherwise, the small lobby was empty.

“Who’s been in here today?” asked Garrett.

“Who hasn’t?” asked the sergeant without looking up from his computer.

“Can you narrow it down to women in the last hour?” I asked.

This time, the sergeant looked up. “Now why would I do that?” he asked. Then he saw Garrett and got to his feet.

“We think someone might have accessed something they shouldn’t have,” said Garrett.

“Give me the box number and I’ll check, Lieutenant.”

Garrett reeled off the number and the sergeant input it into his computer. He shook his head. “No one accessed this box since you logged it in as evidence,” he said.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Before you ask, yes, I’m the only one on duty. I’ve been here the whole afternoon and I haven’t left the desk in the past hour, and no, no one else could have given someone access.”

“This is good news,” said Garrett. “Did anyone ask for access to that box and get refused?”

“No, I haven’t refused any requests. Let me save you some time here. In the last hour I had four submissions, all from male officers. There were five females, three accessing evidence. One submitting. One brought me a coffee. She was my favorite.”

“Did you check all their credentials?”

Sergeant rolled his eyes.

“Sorry I asked. Of course you did,” said Garrett. “Can you check the box for me?”

“Must I?”

“Please,” I said. “It would set our minds at rest.”

“Who’re you?” he asked.

“She’s consulting on my case,” said Garrett. “Now, please, humor me.”

“Give me the number again,” he said and Garrett reeled it off.

“Wait here. I know where it is. I’ll grab it.” He pushed off the desk, ambling away and disappearing behind a shelving rack. A minute later, he returned carrying a brown cardboard box. He set it on the desk and made a point of indicating the seals to us. “Nothing’s been cut,” he said.

“Open it,” instructed Garrett.

The sergeant plucked a penknife from the desk drawer and slit the tape open. He set the lid to the side and tipped the box forward. Inside was the plastic bag, the jewels wrapped in tissue, along with the photograph in another bag.

“Open the larger bag please.”

“I’ll have to log this,” said Sergeant.

“Not a problem.”

The sergeant reached for the bag, popped it open and tipped the contents into the upturned lid. He unwrapped the tissue and revealed the larger jewels. “This what you expected to see?” he asked.

“It is,” confirmed Garrett.

“Good. Now watch me count every piece back in and then I’m going to log it and you can sign off after I reseal the box.”

“Thanks,” said Garrett. “Much appreciated.”

“Anything else, or do you want to get out of my hair?” asked the sergeant as he resealed the box.

“We’ll get out of your hair,” said Garrett as he signed the paperwork. “Thanks for your help.”

I narrowly avoided pointing out the sergeant didn’t have any hair as Garrett ushered me from the room.

“I would have had a heart attack if the jewels were stolen from under our noses,” said Garrett. “Are you sure you recognized her? It’s not your nerves playing tricks?”

“I’m sure. At least…” I hesitated, feeling uncertain now. Nothing had been taken and I didn’t know everyone in the building. What if she just looked like Maddox’s thief? But what if my gut feeling weren’t wrong? “Let’s say it was Maddox’s suspect. She must have wanted something else. Maybe she wanted to access a file instead? Could she do that?” I asked.

“Not without a password. Maybe you were mistaken? It’s been a long day. I’m tired. You’re tired. The tracking bug and tires blowing out spooked us. I hate to say it because I know you’ll be mad at me, but it was just a face in a crowd. Maybe she looked like a photo but there’s no reason to think anything Maddox is working on is directly related to this case. You’re spooked. It’s natural.” Garrett gave me a sympathetic smile. “We have the jewels. That’s what matters.”

“I’m sure it was her,” I insisted softly. “I’m sure it was.”

Disappointment weighed on me as I decided against checking in on Jord, and called Solomon instead. Perhaps Garrett was right. Perhaps I was hallucinating. Perhaps I was seeing thieves wherever I looked.

Or perhaps we missed something.