Count on a Cop 49 - Julianna Morris Page 4

  She glared back. “No, because it wasn’t related to his murder. Simon said there had been fights between workers and management because of the strike, and he thought I should stay away until it was over. The strike was settled before he died. I just haven’t gone back to walking down there.”

  “Okay.” Ben made a visible effort to be calm. “Fine. What else did he say?”

  Kelly swept her hair away from her neck. “Nothing much. He spent most of his time drawing. I have a number of his pictures—he was really talented. I would bring him sketchbooks and art pencils every week or so…. I guess I hoped it would make him feel there was someone who cared.”

  Ben gave her an odd look. “People usually won’t talk to the homeless. What else?”

  She put her purse in a drawer, trying to think. Had there been anything significant in those exchanges? Their discussions seemed so trivial and meaningless now. “I…we chatted about the weather…”

  Ben rolled his eyes.

  “He drank from a bottle in a brown bag. He seemed kind and intelligent. And sad. I figured he’d once had a family and lost touch with them. He was so lonely.” Kelly sighed. She’d liked Simon and felt guilty that she hadn’t done more to help him find a decent place to live.

  “What do you know about his family?” Ben had grabbed a pen and was writing on a steno pad he’d also taken from her desk. “We haven’t tracked down a single connection, anyone to notify—nothing to tell us who he was. My detectives swear he dropped from nowhere.”

  “He had a daughter, but I don’t know any details. We discussed little stuff—it’s a nice day…how are you doing…literature and poetry…that sort of thing. He wasn’t interested in rehab or changing his life. He always cut me off if I said something about it. If I’d pushed harder…” She stopped, feeling worse than ever.

  “How about friends?” Ben tapped the pad, every inch a police officer questioning a witness. “Did you ever see him with anyone?”

  “Occasionally. He claimed to be a loner, but he must have panhandled. I mean, I didn’t give him cash and he didn’t ask for any, so where did the money for his drinking come from?”

  Ben frowned thoughtfully. “You’d be surprised at how much income these guys can make collecting cans and other recyclables. I’ll have my detectives check that angle.”

  The phone rang and Kelly picked it up, keeping her gaze on Ben. It was Detective Fairmont, asking if the “Chief” was available. She gave Ben the receiver.

  “Yes…okay…yes…” Then after a long pause, “I’ll be right down.” Ben returned the phone. He pulled a card from his pocket and scribbled on the back. “That’s my cell number if you think of anything else. Call anytime. It’s important, Kelly. Everyone deserves justice. People care who killed Harvey Bryant, but not so much about a homeless man—as if his life didn’t count and it doesn’t matter who murdered him.”

  “I know, and I wish I knew something that would help.”

  “You can never tell—the smallest shred of information could be a clue.”

  He walked out and Kelly flipped the business card to the desk, staring at it. Yet instead of the white rectangle, she saw Simon. She’d accepted his concern for her safety at face value. It had made sense—tensions were high during the strike, with Harvey Bryant refusing to pay proper benefits and bringing in nonunion replacements. Sand Point had breathed a sigh of relief when labor and management finally came to an agreement.

  It was just too bad that Simon hadn’t been more concerned for his own safety, or he might still be alive.

  CHAPTER THREE

  KELLY LEANED AGAINST HER deck railing and gazed at the horizon where a distant bank of fog obscured the line between sea and sky. Above it a trail of moonlight illuminated the shifting surface of the ocean and the white flash of waves crashing on the rocks.

  It was so beautiful.

  Moving unceasingly. Always changing. Always the same. Like the pulse of her own blood.

  She could never decide if she preferred the view by night or by day. Each was special, but at night the sea was even more mysterious, as if the walls of time had broken down, connecting her in some inexplicable way to the past and future.

  A light wind swirled and she rubbed her arms, more nervous than cold. It was stupid. She should have explained about the Deep books when Ben had called the other evening, or when he’d talked to her at the office, but she’d invented the stories from her overactive imagination and she knew they didn’t have any deeper significance.

  So what if she was the author?

  So what if she had kept it private?

  There were many reasons she’d hadn’t told anyone, including it being too much to handle so soon after losing Mitch. She’d hated being treated differently when he died—all the whispers about poor widowed Kelly, and what was she going to do, and how would she manage. The sudden silences when she entered a room were just as bad. To then publish a spicy murder mystery novel…? She’d had enough of whispers and pointing fingers during her childhood as the daughter of “that woman.” Few had seen the caring mother beyond Shanna’s revealing clothing and revolving boyfriends.

  Smutty.

  That’s how the mayor kept describing the books. Kelly had cringed when Phillip Stone publicly complained about the “suggestive” covers and content after the Gazette released their story, pointing out the similarities to the real murders and victims. As much as she’d loved Shanna, Kelly had fought her whole life not to be compared to her. She could imagine the speculation about her own sexual history if everyone knew she’d written Deep Water and Deep Sea.

  She would have to find a way to tell Ben the truth, but he’d never understand her desire for privacy or the way the secret had gotten out of hand. He’d just be mad that she hadn’t told him earlier.

  Kelly tightened her grip on the railing. She’d questioned Ben’s suitability for the job, but with the exception of Henry, there wasn’t anyone more qualified in Sand Point to locate Simon’s and Harvey’s killers. That was one thing she couldn’t fault Ben on, wanting to do his job right. He really seemed to care that two men had died so terribly.

  Frodo meowed plaintively from the screen door. She turned toward him and a strange sensation went down her back, as if she was being watched. Uneasily, she wondered if her doors were locked—something that people didn’t usually worry about in Sand Point.

  Well, not until the murders.

  Most likely it was nothing, but she went inside with a shiver. Frodo bumped against her legs, a loud purr rumbling from his chest. To his disgust she stepped over him to go check the doors. The front needed the dead bolt locked, but the one in the utility room was secure. The kitchen lights were off, so Kelly peeked through the curtain.

  A tall line of bushes separated her property from the neighbor’s and she waited for several minutes, searching the darkness.

  Don’t overreact, she ordered herself.

  Good advice.

  She was just paranoid because Ben had wanted to make sure “Griffin Bell” was safe. It was ridiculous. Nobody knew she was the author, and who would want to hurt her, anyway?

  Frodo butted her shin and cried, upset that he wasn’t getting the attention he craved.

  “It’s okay, baby,” she murmured, leaning over to pick him up. At twenty-four pounds, he wasn’t an easy armful. The tiger-striped feline purred madly.

  Kelly kept her eyes focused on the boundary between the two properties and thought she spotted a shape that was more solid and defined than the bushes. The motion sensor light by the door hadn’t been triggered, yet the sensation of being watched grew stronger.

  Still carrying Frodo she went into the living room and picked up the phone. Then hesitated.

  Calling 911 didn’t seem appropriate under the circumstances—what could she say, “I have a weird feeling. Please come arrest a shadow”? Mitch’s friends kept offering to help, but they had their own lives and families. Her father-in-law was recovering from open-heart surgery, so c
alling the Lawsons was out of the question. Henry would come, but she didn’t want to worry him. He and Gina were always fussing about her living alone, saying she should “find” someone, or just plain worrying because they were nice people.

  On the other hand, maybe if she asked Henry to drop by for another reason, something innocuous…a request for his opinion, nothing else—not as if she was asking for anything.

  Grateful for an excuse, Kelly sank onto the couch, settled Frodo on her lap and dialed.

  “Jefferson residence,” said Gina’s cheerful voice.

  “Hey, it’s me, Kelly. Is there any chance Henry could come over for a while?”

  “I’m sorry, dear, he went to Portland this morning and won’t be back till late. Is something wrong? Ben is here. I’m sure he’d be happy to come.”

  “No. Uh, that is, it’s all right,” Kelly said hastily. “I thought Henry might check the railing on the deck, but I’ll get a contractor to inspect it.”

  “Nonsense. Henry will drop by tomorrow.”

  Kelly groaned to herself. “That isn’t necessary, but why don’t you both come to dinner on Saturday? I can’t remember the last time you were here.”

  Actually, they hadn’t been to her place since Ben’s move to Sand Point. She made a face. Could she be jealous about Ben and Toby moving to Oregon? Before now she’d only needed to share Gina and Henry on his brief visits.

  “That would be lovely,” Gina said, interrupting the unpalatable thought. “But don’t go on the deck until we’re sure it’s safe.”

  “You’re just afraid that if I break my neck, you’ll miss my apple pie,” Kelly teased.

  “I do love your cooking. Oh, dear!” Gina exclaimed. “I forgot that Toby and Ben are coming to dinner at our place on Saturday.”

  Kelly winced. Gina wouldn’t understand if she didn’t extend an invitation to them, as well. “They’re welcome, too, of course,” she managed to say. Having Toby would be fine; he was already her favorite Sunday school student. But Ben? Maybe he’d make an excuse and send Henry and Gina and Toby without him.

  “I’ll let them know,” Gina said happily. “Isn’t it wonderful having them here?”

  Yeah, wonderful. Until Ben decided he missed the city and broke his aunt’s and uncle’s hearts by moving back. Did he realize how much he meant to them, or how thrilled they were that he’d made Sand Point his home?

  “Yes. I’ll see you Saturday—let’s plan for five o’clock so Toby can have an early night.” Kelly said goodbye and switched off the phone. It was just as well that Henry hadn’t been home. Overreacting could become a habit, and she didn’t want to be scared of every creak and bump around the house. A woman needed to take care of herself.

  She scratched Frodo’s neck. He yawned and went back to sleep. Human problems didn’t bother him.

  Kelly swung her feet onto the couch. Paranoia aside, her biggest problem was putting up with Ben every day at City Hall.

  And now on Saturday evening.

  Darn it.

  “BEN?”

  “Yup?” Ben saw his aunt come into the kitchen. He was on his back under the sink, repairing the leaky drain—Henry was great with anything electrical, and terrible with plumbing.

  Unfortunately, Henry didn’t know he was terrible, so Ben was taking care of the leak while his uncle was out of town.

  “I just got off the phone with Kelly. She’s asked us all to dinner on Saturday. Will that work for you?”

  “That’s…fine.”

  Ben made a final adjustment on the drainpipe while he adjusted his expression. There was no way that Kelly had asked him to dinner without encouragement from Gina.

  “Apparently there’s a problem with her deck railing,” Gina went on, unaware of his tension. “She wanted Henry to check it for her, but when I said he’d gone to Portland for the day, she asked us all to come on Saturday.”

  Ben swallowed an ironic comment. Kelly must have invited his aunt and uncle to dinner, then been forced to invite him and Toby, as well.

  “That’ll be nice,” he said, at the same time thinking it was late for Kelly to ask Henry to come over. “How did she sound?”

  “A bit edgy when she first called. But she’s dreadfully independent. She never asks for help. I remember after…” Gina’s voice trailed and she looked unhappy. “It doesn’t matter. She’s gotten through it.”

  Ben frowned.

  Kelly never asked for help?

  “I’ll go now if you’ll watch Toby,” he offered. He would give a lot to see Kelly’s face if he showed up at her doorstep unexpectedly.

  His aunt shook her head. “You know I’m always delighted to watch Toby, but she seems all right. When I suggested you might be able to come instead, she said it could wait.”

  Naturally.

  Gina put the kettle on the stove. “How about a cup of tea? I’ll make cocoa for Toby and we’ll have some of the lemon cake you brought from Klinghoffer’s Bakery. Or would you prefer coffee?”

  “Tea is good.” Ben tried to shake off a vague concern. He was tense between having two murders to solve and trying to prove himself as police chief.

  Yet Ben couldn’t sleep for a second night in a row. His feelings about Kelly were getting confused again, which was the last thing he needed.

  The next morning Ben left Toby with Gina and headed to City Hall a few minutes early. He generally got to the station when Kelly was visiting the corner coffee vendor, and since she was regular as clockwork, it was safe to assume he could catch her there.

  Ben ordered a plain cup of coffee as he waited. Kelly seemed perfectly fine when she arrived. “Hi, Larry,” she called, barely flicking a glance at Ben.

  “Morning, Kelly. One tall mocha ‘Why Bother’ and a blueberry muffin, ready to go.” Larry extended a paper sack and cup.

  “Thanks,” she said, giving him the money. Her smile must have dazzled the guy, because he stood stock-still, holding the bills and watching her walk away. Or maybe he just enjoyed the view—Ben couldn’t deny that Kelly was easy on the eyes, whether coming or going.

  “Why is it called a ‘Why Bother’?” he asked, following her.

  Kelly jumped. “It’s a sugarless, nonfat, decaffeinated latte, that’s why.”

  He grunted. “I wouldn’t bother, either.”

  “I like it.” She took a defiant swallow. “Unlike some people, I don’t live on caffeine and sugar.”

  “Oh? Is that a nonfat, sugarless muffin in your bag?”

  A hint of pink brightened her cheeks and he grinned. He’d forgotten how much fun it was to tease Kelly.

  “What do you want, Santoni?”

  “I want to know if there was something you should talk to me about.”

  She stumbled and he caught her elbow. “What do you mean?”

  “Last night. Did you really call Henry about the deck, or was it something else?”

  “Oh.” It could have been Ben’s imagination, but she seemed relieved. “I was overreacting. There’s no need to get into it.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Overreacting to what?”

  “When I was out on the deck it felt as if I was being watched. So I checked from the kitchen window and didn’t see anything. Well…maybe there was a dark shape in the bushes. It made me uncomfortable, that’s all.”

  Ben drew her to a halt. “Someone was trespassing on your property and you didn’t call 911?”

  “I didn’t say someone was trespassing. And besides, I called Henry. Thankfully he was on a trip to Portland, so nobody got inconvenienced for something so silly.”

  “That’s what the police are for. How long was the person there?”

  Kelly looked at him, exasperated. “I told you, I don’t know that anyone was there. And even if there was, it could have been someone out for a walk who wanted a look at the ocean.”

  “In the dark?”

  “There was plenty of light from the moon. The water was beautiful, that’s why I was outside myself.”

 
“Let’s go.” Ben marched her to the parking lot.

  “Hey, where do you think we’re going?” Kelly demanded.

  “To your house to investigate.”

  “I have to work. The mayor expects his morning report.”

  “Tell him to take a hike. This is more important.”

  She seemed about to argue further, but got into his Jeep Cherokee and took out her cell phone. “Viv?” she said after a moment. “I’m going to be late, but I’ll try to be there by nine…. No, nothing’s wrong…I’m just delayed because someone is bored and needs something to do.”

  Ben snorted.

  Hardly bored with someone threatening the mayor and two murders to solve.

  “Will do.” Kelly closed the phone and looked at him. “If you insist on doing this, I live on Sea Front Drive.”

  “I know.” He cleared his throat and turned north. “Henry pointed it out once when we were driving around town.”

  “Oh.”

  Ben was glad when she didn’t say anything else. A couple of days ago they’d gotten a report from a Sea Front Drive resident about a suspicious person hanging around. When Henry had heard about it he’d nearly had a stroke, then made sure Ben knew exactly which house was Kelly’s so he could get there quickly.

  Ben hadn’t taken the report seriously until now. Murders made everyone nervous, and unsolved murders were ten-times worse. People reacted emotionally, so it was common to get a rash of “suspicious person” reports, whether it was a big city or small town. Ever since the first murder, calls had been coming in from all over Sand Point. So far none of them had seemed credible.

  Now he wasn’t so certain. Kelly irritated him, but she didn’t seem the type to be scared of her own shadow. And she had admitted to knowing Simon, however casually.

  Then there was the little issue of those damned mystery novels….

  Ben grimaced.

  He pulled into her driveway, braked and swung from the Jeep. Kelly got out before he could get to her side of the vehicle and act the gentleman that Henry had taught him to be.

  “See?” She made a sweeping motion with her arm. “I don’t know what you expect to find. There’s nothing going on.”