All Murders Final! (13 page)

Chapter 21

“Some sort of power failure?” I really didn't know anything about cars. At least we weren't in the middle of the street, with the visibility so poor. I tried to unlock the door manually, but the lock wouldn't release. The window wouldn't roll down, either. “What the heck?”

I fished in my pocket for my cell phone. The car shuddered in the wind. The radio blared on. The tune from the TV show
Cops
rang out—the one about bad boys. Then the radio cut off as quickly as it had started.

“That was freaky,” Stella said. She fought the door lock, but all her yanking and tugging didn't help. Her breath came in harsh pants.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

“We've gotta get out. It's like a horror movie.”

We both looked over the backseat. But no one was hiding back there.

“It's fine.” But now I felt uneasy, too. “It's just an electrical problem.” I held up my cell. “It's working. I'll call for help.” I glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed blue lights flashing as they came toward us. “Look. It's the police. Help is on the way.”

“What if they go by?” Stella latched onto my arm like it was a life preserver.

“Then I'll call someone.”

But I didn't need to. Two patrol cars pulled up. One angled in front of us, and one behind us.

“See? They'll jump the car for us,” I said.

An officer knocked on the window. One I didn't recognize. I'd thought I knew pretty much every man and woman on the force after last spring. He stood out there, his bulletproof vest over his uniform shirt, with no hat, coat, or gloves, like it was a balmy spring evening.

“I can't roll the window down,” I shouted. “Something's wrong with the car.”

He smiled as the snow danced around him. It was all too eerie.

I turned to Stella. “What's wrong with that guy? Maybe
this
is the horror part of the story.”

Stella leaned forward and looked past me at him. “Well, if it is, at least he's cute. Not some shaved-head, metal-toothed freak.”

I looked at him again. I guessed if you liked chiseled cheekbones, big brown eyes, and long eyelashes, the guy would qualify as cute.

“I need your license and registration,” the officer yelled.

“The car isn't working.” I spoke slow and loud, hoping he'd understand.

“Try it again,” he said.

I did, and it came to life. Wow. Did he have magical powers? Smiling, I rolled down the window. “Thanks. I live close by. Would you mind following us, in case it happens again?” The great thing about small towns was the police usually were very helpful.

“I need to see your license and registration,” he said again. This time he spoke slow and loud. A snowflake smacked his nose, and he swatted it away like it was a fly in the middle of summer. The officer from the other patrol car came up on Stella's side of the car. He shined a flashlight in the car, checking us and the backseat out.

I realized I'd left my license in my purse at home. This was supposed to be a quick trip. “I don't have it. I live right over there.” I pointed across the snowy town common, not that you could see through the snow to our building.

The officer nodded. “What about the registration?”

I was lucky I didn't get some hard-nosed, power-hungry cop who'd write you up or take you in for not having a license with you. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself more than most police officers did when they helped someone. A little shiver of doubt went through me.

“Stella check the glove box for Rosalie's registration.”

She popped the glove box open. I could see from here that it was empty. I opened the console, and it was empty, as well.

“The, uh, registration isn't in the glove box or console.” Well, this was embarrassing. “This isn't my car.”

“You don't say,” he said.

The two officers exchanged grins.

“Please step out of the car and keep your hands where we can see them,” he said.

“My ex is—”

The officer on my side held up a hand, cutting me off. “Don't care. Out of the car. Both of you.”

I stepped out. My feet barely had hit the ground before I found myself twirled around, up against the car, and handcuffed.

I looked across the top of the car at Stella. She, too, was cuffed. Her big green eyes were bigger than usual.

I tried to look over my shoulder at the officer. “This is my friend's car. She asked me to move it for her. The keys were in the ignition.”

“Unless your friend's name is the Boston Police Department, you just stole the bait car they loaned us.”

“Bait car?”

“There's been an uptick in car thefts in Ellington. The chief wanted to squelch it as quickly as possible. Looks like it worked.”

I would have thunked my forehead with my hand if I hadn't been cuffed. CJ had mentioned a problem with car thefts when we had dinner. “This is a huge mistake,” I said.

“Tell it to the judge.” The officer jerked on my handcuffs and hustled me over to his squad car. Stella was led away by the other officer. The only good news in this whole mess was there was no one out to see it happen because of the storm.

The normal seven-minute drive to the station took twice that, as the storm unleashed on us. The car was silent except for the snow attacking it. The officer held the wheel lightly, like we were out for a Sunday drive, despite the occasional wind gusts pushing us around.

“What's your name?” I asked. “You must be new.”

“Awesome.”

I choked back a snort of laughter. “You're Officer Awesome?”

He shook his head. “Bossome. With a B. Officer Bossome. You seem pretty casual for a car thief. Lots of experience?”

“Tons,” I said.

Chapter 22

Awesome clasped my arm tightly as he led me into the station. Stella and her officer were right behind us. A cheer went up from the officers and dispatchers in the squad room but quickly died down. The station was more crowded than usual. Pellner looked at me, astonished.

“You stole the bait car?” he asked. He sounded so disappointed. He had to know that this was some kind of wild mix-up and that I wasn't out looking for cars to go on a joyride in.

“I'm not going to answer that until my lawyer's present.” It didn't seem like a good idea to say yes and then try to get someone to listen to my explanation of what had happened without Vincenzo by my side.

Pellner looked at Stella. “Do you want to explain?”

Stella shook her head no. Considering her past troubles with the law, she probably thought it was better to say nothing, too.

“Where's CJ?” I asked Pellner.

“He went home to grab some sleep. Uncuff them,” Pellner told Awesome and the other officer.

“Are you sure?” Awesome asked.

“Yeah,” Pellner said. “She's the chief's ex-wife. We know both of them.”

I loosened the hood of my coat and unwrapped my scarf. The officer with Awesome did a double take when he recognized me.

“The chief's ex-wife is a criminal?” Awesome checked me out, assessing me with wise cop eyes, as he uncuffed me.

Stella and I both rubbed our wrists and shook out our arms as soon as we were free.

“Thanks, Officer Awesome,” I said, perhaps in my own attempt to bait him.

Everyone around us laughed.

“Officer Awesome,” someone said. “Good one.”

I expected Awesome's ego to flare up. But he just joined in with the others, laughing.

“Everyone told me a small town force would be different, but I didn't realize we'd be joking around with the thieves we caught,” Awesome said.

“Oh, for goodness' sakes,” I said. “Just call Rosalie DiNapoli. She asked me to move her car. Said that it was a gray sedan and that the keys were in it. I didn't think there'd be more than one gray sedan with the keys in it on the street on a night like this.”

“No one's going to believe that,” Awesome said.

“It's true,” Stella said. I swore she batted her lashes in the direction of Awesome and blushed a little. Even though she'd been dating a lot recently, I hadn't seen her batting and blushing in a long time.

“I'll call her,” Pellner said. “Crazy as it sounds, Awesome, it's probably true.”

“She might be hard to get a hold of. She's with Angelo at a hospital in Cambridge.”

Several people said, “Oh, no,” and others shook their heads.

Someone said, “I wondered why there were closed today.”

“It's not either of them. It's Angelo's uncle, Stefano.”

Everyone looked relieved and then drifted back to their own desks as Pellner made the call. He left a message. “Just go sit over there, out of the way, until we hear back from her.” He pointed to a couple of chairs by an unoccupied desk.

“Can someone move Rosalie's car so it doesn't get towed?” I asked, not moving from my spot.

“Sure,” Pellner said. “We'll take care of it.”

“Any word on what happened to Margaret?” I asked him.

His dimple deepened as his lips tightened. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Or Juanita? What about who broke into my apartment? Anything on any of these cases?”

Pellner narrowed his eyes and pointed toward the chairs, so Stella and I walked over to them.

Awesome stopped by Pellner's desk. “Are you sure you want the two suspects sitting together? They could be getting their stories straight.”

“When it's those two, it's fine. You can head back out. Take someone with you and move Rosalie's car.”

Awesome got an “Are you serious?” look on his face.

“You can put it in one of our parking spots,” I told him and rattled off the address.

Awesome looked at Pellner, who nodded. He shrugged and took one more good look at us. I waved, and he headed out the door.

“Jeez, he's suspicious,” I said to Pellner.

“You would be too if you were used to policing in New York City.”

“What's he doing here?” I asked.

“I guess he got tired of big city problems,” Pellner said.

“He's not a Yankees fan, is he?” Stella asked. She looked disappointed at the thought.

“I don't think that's on the list of questions on the application,” Pellner said.

“Maybe it should be,” someone said. That got a good laugh.

“Okay, let's get back to work. We have multiple cases to work on and a storm.”

People's faces became grim, and everyone returned to their work.

Stella and I both whipped out our phones and pretended to concentrate on them while we strained to listen to bits of quiet conversations. But mostly, we heard the clatter of fingers on keyboards. Computers sure made it difficult to snoop at the police station. I picked up a word here and there:
Frieda
,
boot prints
,
cigarette butts in the woods
,
house unlocked
,
Juanita
. Stella checked her e-mail, and I Googled “bait cars.” Police departments parked them in areas where lots of thefts occurred. They had audio and video equipment to tape the events, along with kill switches. That explained why the car had stopped and locked. There was even a television show about them.

We sat for about forty-five minutes before Rosalie called. Pellner hung up the phone. “You're free to go.”

Stella and I sat there. “We don't have a way home,” I said.

“I'll get Awesome to swing back by.”

I let Stella sit up front on the way home. The snow wasn't as heavy as it had been, but the roads were still slick. Stella and Officer Awesome laughed and joked the whole way back. I tried to make sense of the few bits I'd overheard at the station. Once I was up in my apartment, I looked out my window. The squad car was still outside, and Stella was still in it.

Chapter 23

In the morning I tossed aside my bedroom curtains and, squinting in the sunlight, looked out over the common. The nor'easter had blown through quickly and had left only about an inch of snow. It had seemed like there'd be a lot more when I went out in it last night. Great Road was already down to bare pavement, as was my street. Given the sun, all the snow would be melted by noon. The sun was shining a little too brightly for how late I'd been up last night. My phone rang.

“Are you okay?” Seth asked.

“Other than being sleepy, I'm fine. Why?”

“I heard you met Officer Awesome,” Seth said. “He loves his new nickname.”

I wondered how he knew this already. “I didn't think I'd ever laugh because I was picked up for stealing a car.”

“And I didn't think I'd be laughing because someone did.”

“So there's really a problem in Ellington with car thieves?” It seemed so unbelievable, even if CJ had mentioned it to me.

“Not just in Ellington, but around the county. We want to stop it as quickly as we can. So we park the unlocked bait car with the keys in it. Someone steals it, and we've got them, as you well know.”

“Isn't that entrapment?”

“The car isn't yours, whether the keys are in it or not. You have no right to take it. It's like if I helped myself to something you had out at a garage sale. It's stealing.”

“You're right. Thank heavens they got ahold of Rosalie and that her car was there to prove my point.”

“How'd Stella take it?”

“Fortunately, she has an excellent sense of humor.”

“I've got another call. I'll talk to you later today.” Seth hung up.

I heard a commotion outside my door and shuffled over to see what was going on. I still had bed head and wore a ratty thermal shirt over yoga pants, but I just didn't care this morning. I cracked open my door. Mike stood in the hall with a suitcase in his hand.

“Where are you going?” I asked, opening the door the rest of the way.

“Back to the North End, where I belong.” He moved closer as his two brothers carted the poker table down the steps.

“Will you be safe?” I'd gotten used to having Mike and his security team around.

“We found out who threw the disk. That person is swimming with the fishies.”

I took a step back and felt the blood drain from my face.

“Whoa. Don't believe everything you've heard about me.” Mike laughed. “The girl that did it, Daniella, is down in Venezuela on a snorkeling adventure. I don't think she'll be coming back anytime soon.”

I patted my heart. “Oh.”

Mike set his suitcase down. “If you ever need any cheese or you're down in the North End for some reason, stop by and see me.”

“I'm going to miss having you and the guys around.” I gave Mike a hug.

“Stella's a good kid and took me in on short notice. I owe her one.” He picked up his suitcase and trotted down the stairs.

A few minutes later I went down to visit Stella. “Mike's gone,” I said. “He said he owed you one.” Having a mobster owe you was probably a lot better than the other way around.

“I kind of got used to him being here,” she said. “Come on in. Want some coffee?” She poured us cups without waiting for my answer. She knew I liked my coffee. My cup said
I'LL BE BACH
. Music humor. We sat on the couch and turned the volume down on her television.

“Tell me about Officer Awesome,” I said. Tux sprawled in a sunny spot on the floor. It almost looked like it was raining out, because the snow was melting so quickly.

“He
is
a Yankees fan, but everyone has their flaws.”

“Does he like music?” It seemed like an important part of Stella's life.

“He can't sing a note on key to save his life, and his taste in music includes rhythm and blues. He's never been to an opera.” Stella smiled as she said it. “Oh, and he detests scotch.”

“So in other words, you have nothing in common and won't be seeing each other again,” I said.

“Yes and no. We don't have anything in common, but we're going out to dinner tonight.”

I shook my head.

“Just think of us telling our kids how we met.” It surprised me that Stella wanted kids. CJ and I had wanted them, but it had never happened. “That he arrested you for stealing a car?”

“Yes! It's a great story.”

I laughed. “An excellent foundation for a relationship.” But who was I to judge? I had almost knocked CJ over and had spent the night with Seth the first time I met him.

Stella pointed to the TV. “There's CJ.” She turned the volume up.

“We have a person of interest in the murders of Margaret More and Juanita Smith,” CJ said.

“Are the murders related?” a reporter asked.

“I can't comment on that.”

Several other people asked CJ questions, but all his answers were, “I can't comment on that.”

Stella flipped the television off, and we stared at each other. Tux lifted his head and looked at us before deciding we weren't that interesting.

“Have you heard anything about this?” she asked me.

“Not a word, and I talked to Seth this morning. He must have known.”

“Or they just found something out.”

“I guess that's possible. I wonder who it is.”

“I wonder how you can find out,” Stella said.

“Do you think it could be me?” I really, really hoped I was wrong.

Stella's green eyes got larger. “Wouldn't Seth or CJ mention it to you?”

“I don't know.” I stared into my coffee cup, wishing it would have some answer for me. There were so many things that both of them kept from me.

“I can't imagine that Seth would spend time with you or call you if you're a person of interest in a murder case.”

“He didn't sound any different this morning.”

“There you go. You're worrying for nothing.”

“You're right. You must be right.”

* * *

Preparations for the February Blues garage sale were the perfect counterbalance to everything going on in my life. I met Laura at the community center not long after I left Stella. Working was so much more fun than sitting around worrying about being a suspect in two murders.

“I'll use masking tape to mark off where each table will be,” I told Laura.

“I've got a truck full of stuff from the thrift shop sitting outside for the sale. I'll start hauling in the lighter-weight items.” As the base commander's wife, Laura ended up working at the thrift shop, since volunteers could be hard to come by. I volunteered when I could, even though I no longer had any official standing on the base. One of the advantages of organizing the sale was I put my table in a prime location—to the right as people came in and next to what would be the large space for the thrift shop, which would be a big draw. I supposed people would grumble, but I could probably stick myself in a back corner, and people would somehow think that was an advantage.

“Want to see if we're strong enough to get a couch off the back of the truck?” Laura asked after we'd worked for a couple of hours.

I flexed my arm to show her my muscles. It wasn't from working out, but from years of hauling stuff around for garage sales. “Let's give it a try.”

We donned our coats and headed out. I blinked in the bright sun, amazed that almost all traces of last night's storm were gone. Laura got on the bed of the truck and pushed as I pulled on the couch. I balanced it on the edge of the pickup while she hopped down. She ran around to the other side, and we lifted. It dropped like a rock on her side, and I barely managed to jump out of the way before my side crashed down.

“Whoa. That thing weighs a ton,” I said.

“It's a Hide-A-Bed.”

“We're going to need more help.”

“Let's go have lunch at the bowling alley and see if we can find somebody to help us move this monster. The couch is out of the way, and it's sunny, so it should be fine if we leave for a bit.”

“You're the boss,” I said.

Laura smacked my arm.

* * *

We walked into the café at the bowling alley. The crack of pins being knocked down rang out, even though it was 11:30 a.m. on a weekday. But it could be the Spouses' Club league or one of the retiree leagues. I used to bowl with the Spouses' Club but hadn't been able to since the divorce. We both ordered burgers and decided to share fries. Ordering food made me wonder when DiNapoli's would open again and how Stefano was doing.

We found a table near a TV and waited for our food.

“What have you been up to?” Laura asked me.

“I got arrested last night.”

Laura's jaw dropped, but pretty soon I had her laughing so hard, other people stared. They called the number for our order. I leaped up.

“I'll get it,” I said.

When I came back, Laura was still grinning. She chatted about the base book club, her boys, who both played hockey, and the upcoming possibility of her husband getting promoted to general.

Tables filled as we ate, and I noticed a couple of guys who were both with the security forces. They'd worked for CJ before he retired. I pointed to their table. “Maybe they can help us with the couch,” I told Laura. She nodded.

I walked over to them, and they agreed to meet us at the community center as soon as they finished eating.

Laura and I were walking back to her car when my phone chimed, telling me I had another PopIt. “Laura, I know this is going to sound silly, but I want you to look at this PopIt with me.”

“Why do you even have PopIt?”

“I use it a lot for my business. But I've gotten a couple of creepy photos lately. No one is ever around to see them.”

“Really? Creepy photos? Let's look.”

I clicked on the app. A picture of Lindsay making a sad face at the food in the school cafeteria popped up and disappeared.

Laura shook her head. “That's weird but not creepy.”

I laughed. “Lindsay's pictures make me smile. Let's take one to send back to her.” We posed with our tongues sticking out. “That will make her laugh.”

My phone chimed again. I pushed the button. A picture of the couch by the community center popped up. A crudely written sign on the couch said
DIE, SARAH WINSTON
. Beside the sign was a little cat that looked like Stella's cat Tux.

“Laura, look.” I held my phone out, but the picture was already gone. This time I'd noticed the user name. It was DieSarah.