Diner Knock Out (A Rose Strickland Mystery Book 4) (19 page)

He cleared his throat. “The cops suspect suicide. Evidently he took a bunch of pills. I still can’t believe it, but you were right. He was using, and I never suspected a damned thing. The police told Sofia steroids can trigger deep depression. Maybe after she left him, things seemed hopeless.”

“I don’t believe Rob committed suicide.”

“Whether it was intentional or not, Rose, he took his own life. I’m still racking my brain, searching for signs. But Rob was always so confident about turning pro. I believed him.”

“Listen to me, Kai. I found Buster Madison’s body last night. He was murdered.” His swift intake of breath told me he hadn’t heard the news. “I think whoever killed Buster also killed Rob. Can you think of any reason why someone would want both of them dead?”

“God, no. But I didn’t know Buster personally. Some of the guys in my Muay Thai class work out at the gym, though. Do you want to talk to them?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I have a class tonight. Starts at six and goes to seven thirty. Why don’t you get here around seven fifteen? Afterward, you can question the guys about Buster. They all knew Rob too. Maybe you can find out who did this. I don’t know whether I’m relieved that Rob didn’t kill himself or not. Thinking he was murdered—it’s almost too awful to accept.”

I didn’t know what to say to him. No words would take away the pain of losing his friend to a death. The only thing I could do was find the killer. “I’ll be there at seven fifteen. Thanks, Kai.”

Before heading back to the dining room, I called Sullivan.

“Is everything all right? Is Henry with you?”

“Yes and yes. I have a question about Buster. He was on your payroll, right? You and the other three Horsemen?”

“We paid him equally and very well. Although I’m not sure how Sanders managed these past few months.”

“If you paid him so well, why is his house in foreclosure?”

“How do you know this?”

“You mean I know something you don’t? Has the world stopped turning on its axis?”

“Now’s not the time to gloat.”

Point taken. “When I was in his office, he spilled some papers on the floor. One of them was a foreclosure notice.”

He said nothing for a few beats. Then, “You’re staying with me tonight?” At least it was a question and not a demand.

“Yeah. Only for a few days.” I wanted to be clear from the start.

“Good.” My phone went dead. Why couldn’t he say goodbye like a normal person?

I’d just walked back into the main dining room when my phone rang again. Roxy gave me a look, and I turned and headed back to the office. It was Andre.

“Miss Strickland.” Always so formal. “How are you doing? Last night was very difficult.”

That was one way of putting it. “I’m all right. Did you find any info on Dr. Ethan Cadewell?”

“Nothing stood out. Are you coming in today?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I won’t be here. I’m following Mr. Benson, and it’s his day off. I left something for you in my office.”

“A pink slip?” I joked.

“Don’t tempt me. Goodbye.” See? Even Hardass could say it.

Now curiosity gnawed at me, like a dog with a juicy bone. What had Andre left for me? Something to do with the case? Hopefully it wasn’t a pile of background checks needing immediate attention.

I went back to work. After our last customers left, I bussed tables, and Roxy wiped down the counter. Henry finished his umpteenth cup of black coffee.

Since we’d had a light turnout this morning, it didn’t take long to restore order. As I was about to gather my things, Axton walked into the diner, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his wallet chain bouncing against his thigh. He waved at me, then nodded to Henry. “How’s it shaking, my man?”

Henry raised his cup. “Right and tight.”

I stacked the four remaining donuts on a plate and slid it in front of Ax. “I didn’t expect to see you. Roxy just finished cleaning the coffeepot, but I could make you a fresh cup.”

He squatted on a stool and hefted his bag on the counter next to him. “No, I’m cool.”

“How’s the secretary wooing? Any success?”

His neck turned red. “Yeah, kinda. She’s, like, amazing. I thought I was going to be way too geeky for her, but we actually have stuff in common. Turns out she’s a huge
Doctor Who
fan, she loves Tolkien, and she told me I’m cute.”

I reached out and pinched his scruffy cheek. “You’re adorbs.”

He batted at my hand with his cinnamon sugar-coated fingers. “Stop.”

“She sounds perfect, Ax.”

“Not perfect, but close. She has one big flaw—she thinks George Lucas is overrated. Can you believe? Anyway, we had lunch together at my desk.”

Seeing Ax so happy made me smile. “Maybe you can work through your Lucas differences. Hey,” I slapped his arm, “I thought you were swamped this week. What are you doing here?”

He took a bite of powdered donut and glanced up at me. “Ma wanted to see me. Said it was really important. We’ve been taking staggered breaks, and it was my turn to get out of the office.”

Roxy stepped through the connecting door and grinned when she saw him. “Hey, Axman.” She grabbed her poodle purse and slipped the strap over her shoulder. “Rose, be careful today.” She glanced over at Henry. “Hey, mutant. If you don’t take care of her, I’ll kick your ass.”

“You’ll have to get in line, shorty,” he rumbled.

“I’ll see you tonight, Rose?” she asked. “Ten o’clock?”

“What’s at ten?” Ax brushed the crumbs from his beard.

Roxy thrust her hand into her purse. “Sugar’s having a show at Ruby’s Roadhouse. Here are the tickets.” She placed four on the counter.

Right. The burlesque thing. “Yep, I’ll be there.”

Once she left, I turned my attention to Ax. “What did Ma want? She hasn’t been in all morning.”

“Something about a dating profile.”

Oh, boy. “Want me to call her?”

“No, I’ll hang around. She’ll show up eventually.” Leaning forward, he slid his gaze to the left. “Why is Henry here?”

“Sullivan insisted. I found a dead body last night.”

“Again?
Dude
. Are you all right?”

No. Sort of. Not really. “I’m okay.” No sense in worrying him. “And I’ve got Henry to protect me, so I’ll be fine.”

“Listen, if you’re in trouble, call me. New servers be damned. I’m there for you, Rosie.” That was my Ax. He shoved the ticket to Sugar’s performance across the counter. “Too bad I can’t make it. I’ll be pulling another late shift.”

As I stuck it in my purse, a brilliant idea sparked my synapses. I could call Candi Carlucci, see if she wanted to go to Sugar’s show. That way, I could quiz her in a casual setting. I wondered if she knew about Buster’s demise.

Before changing clothes, I dialed her number. She answered on the third ring.

“Yeah? Who’s this?”

Interesting greeting. “Hi, Candi. This is Rose Strickland. We met last night. I was wondering how you were?”

“Oh, hi. I stayed up late, rereading all of Rob’s texts. I just can’t believe he’s gone.” I heard the pain in her voice. Rob really meant something to her, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“Listen, I know it’s short notice, but maybe getting out of the house would do you some good. A friend of mine is performing at Ruby’s Roadhouse. There’s a burlesque revue tonig—”

“I’m totally down with that. I need to get out of here and be around people. What time?”

“It starts at ten.”

“Pick me up at nine. We can synchronize our outfits and make sure we coordinate.” Remembering her lime green peek-a-boo dress, I was almost certain that Candi and I would never coordinate. “Should I go full-on skank or classy slut?” she asked.

“Is there a difference?” I’d never been to a burlesque show, but I doubted anyone would notice what Candi wore. All eyes would be zeroed in on Sugar de la Tarte and her twirling tassels. “I’m sure whatever you wear, you’ll look fab.”

“You’re a sweetie, Rose. You know my addy, right?” She rattled it off, but I already knew how to get to the Carlucci estate, having driven by and seen the security cameras for myself. “See ya.”

I shoved my phone in my purse, and after changing clothes, I emerged from the office and signaled to Henry it was time to go. “Call you later, Ax. And don’t let Ma do anything too crazy.”

With a full mouth he nodded and gave me the thumbs up sign.

I walked back through the kitchen, told the boys goodbye, and Henry and I headed off to job number two.

“What are we doing for lunch?” he asked. “Should I stop somewhere?”

“You ate two breakfasts. Besides, we don’t have time to stop.” I was too anxious to get to the office and see what Andre had left for me.

With only a few grumbles, Henry chauffeured me across town. On the drive, something kept haunting me: that bag full of drugs hidden in Rob’s recovery powder. Though it was low on my list of unanswered questions, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. If Rob didn’t use drugs, where did he get them? Why did he have them? What did he plan on doing with them?

Once we reached the office, I had Henry park around the side of the building. My car was sitting in the lot. Andre must have retrieved it for me, which was really thoughtful. Oh God, I was growing fond of Hardass. Who’d have thunk?

Unsnapping my seatbelt, I glanced at Henry. “This is where you and I part ways, Jeeves.”

“Forget it. Sullivan said I had to stick close.”

I pointed to the door. “I’ll be right inside that building. When I leave, you can follow.”

He was out of the car before I could finish the sentence. Must be a real thrill, watching me serve coffee all morning. I hoped Sullivan was paying him double for hazard duty.

Inside the building, I unlocked the door and pressed the security code. After flipping on the main lights, I whizzed past Henry into Andre’s office. As soon as I saw what Hardass had done, I gasped.

Chapter 19

Before me was a thing of true beauty. “Holy cow. Andre made me an evidence wall.”

Henry plastered himself to my back, but I was too excited to care. Andre had used the big blank wall next to his desk to tape up enlarged driver’s license photos of our suspects, our victims, and several different colors of yarn crisscrossing back and forth, like a psychedelic spider web.

Henry pushed my shoulder blade. “Move, would you?”

I approached the wall with reverence. This must have taken Andre hours to complete. On index cards tacked beneath each photo, his neat handwriting stated names, alibis, and motives.

I dropped my purse on the desk and yanked out my phone to call him. “This is awesome,” I said when he answered.

He cleared his throat, like he was embarrassed. “It’s all about organization. There are more index cards and yarn in the top drawer if you need them. Gotta go. Mr. Benson is on the move.”

I turned to see Henry standing behind me with a weird look on his face. “What?”

“You get excited about the strangest shit, Rose.”

Yep, it was official. I was the biggest nut in the cluster.

“Okay, H., let’s get started.” I opened my notebook. “I’ll methodically examine each suspect. I’ll give you my theories, and you try to prove me wrong.”

He pocketed his phone, sighing. “If I have to.”

“First, we have Sofia.” I followed her red string to Rob. “She had motive—Rob Huggins drove her batshit and wasn’t financially taking care of his kid, but she loved him.”

“That’s your motive right there,” Henry said. “Love can turn to hate real quick.”

“Not this time. First of all, she wouldn’t have made it look like a suicide. She has a restless baby and a full-time job. Her brains are too scrambled to be that calculated.” I pointed at a photo of Buster, but there was no yarn linking the two. “And see? No motive to kill Buster.”

Henry shrugged out of his jacket, revealing his gun. “You’re assuming the two murders are connected.”

“What makes you think they’re not?”

“Just playing devil’s advocate here.”

I tapped my notebook against my chin. “Rob’s death was a setup.”

“Not necessarily. He could have really offed himself.”

“He didn’t use pills. Didn’t drink. And he owned a gun. Why kill yourself in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of pills—which I’ll admit, he had access to—knowing your body might not be found for days? Worrying your fiancée who’s already stressed with money problems and single parenthood?”

Henry crossed his arms. “Because people who commit suicide aren’t thinking about anybody but themselves. They’re selfish. Who cares if someone finds the body? It’s all about
their
pain.” His gravelly voice became harsh, unyielding. Was he speaking from personal experience? I wanted to ask, but knew he’d shut me down. Why waste my breath?

“Back to Buster,” I said. “He wanted to tell me something about the club, but he was killed in a very slapdash manner. Rob’s death was planned. Buster’s was on the fly. Which says my killer was rattled.”

“Unless you have two killers.”

Fine. It
was
a possibility. But I didn’t buy it. These murders were connected somehow. I just needed to prove it.

I crossed through Sofia’s name in my notebook. She was devastated over Rob’s death.

“Moving on.” I tapped a picture of Sofia’s brother, Franco. “Franco hated Rob, thought Sofia could do better. A couple of weeks before Rob disappeared, Franco stomped into the gym and picked a fight with Rob. Rob didn’t retaliate, which showed a great amount of restraint on his part.”

“Why would the kid kill Buster?”

“Exactly.” I put a big fat question mark next to Franco’s name.

“Buster Madison. Deceased.” Saying it made me flinch. “Finding him was horrific.”

“Boss said you were shook up. Sorry you had to go through that, Rose.”

I turned away from the board. Henry was a mountain and he had an RSF—resting scary face—but the sympathy in his eyes was plain to see.

“Thanks.” I refocused on Buster’s photo. “What did he want to tell me last night? He said he needed to get something off his chest. And when I told him about Rob’s death, he thought the Horsemen were behind it.”

“Who the hell are the Horsemen?”

“Sullivan, Sanders, Carlucci, and Mr. Karl.”

Henry rumbled deep in his chest. “Good call. Did Buster say why Rob was killed?”

“Nope. I think if I could solve that, I could figure out this whole case.” Or not.

“Will Carlucci.” With my finger, I traced his red string to Rob. “Rob was sleeping with Candi. But was that enough of a motive to take out his number one star? Rob was very vocal about wanting out of the club.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Maybe Carlucci feared that Rob would win enough fights to break free. No one’s ever done that before. It might set a bad precedent.”

Henry hefted one shoulder. “There’s another reason Carlucci might want to off Rob.”

“What’s that?”

“Carlucci was losing money on the kid. Nobody bet against Rob anymore. He was just too good. You put all that money into a fighter, you want him to win, but not too much.”

I followed the blue string trail. “Then why kill Buster?”

“Because Buster knew something he shouldn’t. Or overheard something. Or was just a pain in the ass.”

“It’s possible. I was yanking Carlucci’s chain last night at the cocktail party. Maybe I spooked him and he panicked, called his hit man, and had Buster bumped off.”

“Covering his tracks,” Henry said. “Scorched earth policy. That’s a pretty decent motive.”

I spun and placed my back against the wall. “Why not kill me too? I was the one asking questions. Doubting Rob’s suicide story.”

“You had muscle. Pete was following you. And you belong to Sullivan. That means you’re off limits, unless Carlucci wants to go to war.”

I ran my finger over the metal coil binding my notebook and ignored his phrasing. No time to get into a feminist diatribe. It would be wasted on Henry, anyway. “Not everyone follows the rules, clearly. And why not kill both of us, Pete and me? Besides, we were driving separately. Someone could have run me off the road, taken a pot shot. No, I don’t think Carlucci is behind these murders.” I blinked, then focused on Henry. “Hey, did you know Buster was in debt? He was going to lose his house. Bad money habits? Gambling debt?”

“He wasn’t gambling on the fights, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because the
Horsemen
wouldn’t allow it.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Like Pete Rose betting on baseball. It’s not kosher.”

“Why else would Buster be in debt?”

“He might have been betting on something else. Maybe he made a bad investment. I’m just saying he didn’t wager on the fights.”

I curled my lip. “Get real. Did Buster look like the type of guy who played the stock market? The ponies—maybe.” I wrote another giant question mark next to Buster’s name.

“Candi Carlucci. She was hooking up with Rob. I think she had feelings for him, which would give her a motive for killing him—woman spurned and all—but what about Buster? Plus, girl has a broken arm. Could she have snuck up behind Buster and bashed him over the head with a twenty-five-pound weight? Unlikely.

“Next up—Sullivan.” I glanced at his picture, a serious pose for the DMV camera. Nevertheless, he was incredibly handsome. “I think I can cross him off my list.”

“Whatever would your new boss say?” Henry’s sarcastic tone caught me off guard.

“Andre would say I shouldn’t allow affection to override my judgment. This time, he’s wrong. While I may not know everything about Sullivan, I know he didn’t do this.”

He made a noise of approval.

“Wyatt Sanders. A freak of serious proportions.” I liked him for a double homicide, mostly because of his high creep factor. “I have no evidence connecting him to Rob. Or Buster. But,” I raised my finger in the air, “he’s in debt. Maybe he killed Rob because…yeah, I got nothing. And I don’t know why Sanders would kill Buster. Maybe he dissed birch sap water?”

“Don’t blame him. Tastes terrible. Have you tried it?” Henry crossed his arms and leaned against the filing cabinet.

“Yep, and I never want a repeat.” I tapped Tyler Godfrey’s pic. “Now, this is interesting.”

“Good. Because no offense, but this has been almost as dull as watching people eat waffles all morning.”

I carried on. “Tyler assumed Rob had committed suicide. He leapt to that conclusion immediately.”

“Would Tyler be stupid enough to plan an elaborate murder, then tip his hand by suggesting suicide before you did?”

“He’s on painkillers.”

“Why would he kill Buster?” Henry asked.

I threw my hands in the air. “Ugh, I don’t know! I don’t know anything, and it’s making me crazy. What did Buster want to tell me? And why was he willing to die for it?”

“Don’t know any more than you do.” Henry pointedly glanced at his watch. “Next?”

I sighed and looked back at the wall. The wall that held such promise just an hour ago. Now, it mocked me. “Dr. Ethan Cadewell. Or as I like to think of him, Dr. Dickwad.”

Henry snorted. “Yeah, he is that.”

“What’s his vice?”

Henry’s lips pressed into a tight line.

“Oh, come on,” I begged, “help me out.”

“Nearly got his license suspended. His professional one.”

This was new. “Why? Was he screwing patients? I can totally see him doing that.”

“Prescribing too many drugs and gambling. Like every other educated man who thinks he can beat the house, he’s an arrogant ass who doesn’t know when to fold.”

“Did Sullivan help him out with the license thing?”

Henry didn’t say anything, but stared directly into my eyes. I knew I’d hit the bullseye.

Then I remembered that decal on Ethan’s windshield. Why hadn’t I figured it out before? “Franco. Oh my God. Franco. Henry—Franco.”

“You keep saying that like it means something.”

I sprinted to Andre’s desk and flipped on his computer. I didn’t waste time on the databases, instead zoned in on Franco’s social media site.

“Here it is. Franco Morales. Employment history—works in the cafeteria at Huntingford Memorial Hospital.” I glanced up at Henry. “Do you know what that means?”

“Nope.”

“Sofia’s brother works at the same hospital as Dr. Ethan. I kept wondering what had triggered Franco, made him go to the gym that day and start a fight with Rob. It wasn’t about Sofia at all. Sofia and Rob were always breaking up, so why would Franco go after Rob this time?”

“Because Rob found Franco’s cache of pills and stole them?”

“Exactly.” I snapped my fingers. “Excellent motive to kill Rob. Franco wanted his drugs back. Rob knew Franco was selling, and Franco, who works in the hospital cafeteria for barely minimum wage, has a brand new Mustang.” I recalled that big, faceted diamond stud in his ear. I’d pegged it for zirconia. It was probably the real deal. “And Franco would have access to drugs, so he could make Rob’s death look like a suicide.”

“How would he lure Rob out to the woods?”

“Any pretext. Sofia. Wanting to talk. An apology.”

“How would he get Rob to take the pills?” Henry asked, walking forward, his thick finger stabbing Franco’s license picture in the nose. “This little pissant wouldn’t have been able to force Rob to do jack.”

He had me there. I walked past him to the door and back. “Maybe he spiked Rob’s Gatorade, then had him pop a bunch of pills.”

Henry slowly nodded. “Possible. But you have no proof.”

“You’re beginning to sound just like Hardass. And that’s not a compliment.” I grabbed my phone and strode to the door. “I’ll be back.”

He blocked my way. “No. I’ll wait in the outer office. You make your call in here.” So overprotective.

As soon as he shut the door, I dialed Sullivan’s number and had to wait five rings for him to pick up. “Rose. Busy.”

“Welcome to the club. I think your Dr. Cadewell is behind the drugs at Rob’s house.”

“Tell me why,” he said after a full minute.

I told him all of my suspicions.

“That’s a lot of presumption. So what, you think Franco also killed Buster? Right before you got there, too. That’s damned convenient. What’s his motive?”

He had a point. “So maybe Franco’s not the killer. Maybe Cadewell is. He left the party right before I did, giving him plenty of time to bash Buster.”

“Ethan Cadewell is a lot of things—obnoxious, a bad loser, a serial philanderer—but I can’t see him killing Buster. For what reason?”

Damn. That motive kept holding me back every time. “Maybe Buster knew about the drugs.”

“If Cadewell is supplying, most of the guys at the gym already know about the drugs.”

I closed my eyes, defeated. “Okay, maybe he’s not a killer, but I believe Ethan is a pipeline to getting prescription pills out on the street.”

“Even if that’s true, what’s your plan?”

“What’s yours?” I shot back. “He’s not a doctor for
my
illegal fight club. You’re okay with employing a dealer?”

He sighed. “Fine, Rose, I’ll talk to Cadewell.”

“And say what? His license has already been in jeopardy. That wasn’t enough to stop him.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know lots of things,” I bluffed. “If Cadewell is selling drugs, I want it to end. Now.”

“Okay. I’ll tell him to cut out his side business. Happy?”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Oh, he will.” He said the words with such cold ferocity, my ear had frostbite.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be working late tonight. Wait up for me.”

“You may have to wait up for
me
. I have a burlesque show to attend.”

He honest to God growled, making my toes curl and my stomach flutter like fireflies trapped in a mason jar. “Take notes, and you can show me what you learned.”

My cheeks grew warm at his suggestion, but I had a stipulation of my own. “Only if you reciprocate. I’m talking hip thrusts, mister.”

“Deal.”

I was still smiling when Henry opened the door. “All done?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving. I have one more suspect.”

Henry glanced at the wall. “We’re done. You’re out of pictures.”

I read the final name in my notebook. “Mr. Karl.”

“Good luck finding anything on him. If Sullivan’s a closed book, Mr. Karl isn’t even on the shelves. Keeps to himself. No one knows his business. His proxy is an asshole, but he plays it close to the vest too.”

“Have you ever met Mr. Karl?”

He shook his head. “Now let’s go eat. Hungry.” Uh-oh. He was starting to talk in one-word sentences. Time to feed the beast.

We stopped at a restaurant that served real food, and by that I meant a chain establishment with a waitress instead of a cashier. When she placed a small loaf of bread between us, Henry cut it into thick slices, slathered them with butter, and handed me one.

“I don’t know how you go all day without eating, Rose. It’s not healthy. Tomorrow I’ll pack us a lunch. I’ve been working on this cold quinoa salad. I think I’ve finally got the dressing balanced just right.”

I nibbled on the bread. “If you won’t tell me how you met Sullivan, at least tell me how long you’ve known him.”

He finished off the last slice and rubbed the crumbs from his hands. Sitting back, he stretched out his arms, resting them on the back of the booth. “What does it matter if I’ve known him six years or twenty-six? I’m loyal to him. That’s what counts.”

“It matters to me.”

“I’ve known Sullivan for a long time. He’s fair and he’s steadfast to the people who prove themselves.”

“He can be ruthless,” I said.

“Only when he needs to be. He should have been ruthless with
you
. I would have been.” He lifted his gaze. His eyes became cold and empty. Merciless. “You’re his exception. Never take advantage of that.”

My heart leapt, and I felt uneasy talking about this with Henry. Even though I wanted facts about Sullivan, I wasn’t going to discuss my feelings toward him or vice versa. That was too personal, so I changed the subject. “What about you? Did you ever duke it out in the ring?”

He stared at me for an uncomfortable length of time. When he spoke, it dispelled some of the tension between us. “Yeah, I was a fighter. Pretty damn good one.” He lowered his arms and rested them on the table.

“Did you ever fight in a club like the one Sullivan runs?”

I’d just tipped the balance, putting him on edge once again. His big hands clenched a glass of water, and I noticed long, white scars marring the ridges of his knuckles.

“Yeah, I did. You were wrong before. There’s at least one person who won enough fights to earn back his freedom. You’re looking at him.”

Curiosity: piqued. I wanted to ask him a million questions, but his closed face put an end to the discussion. He probably regretted telling me anything at all. Best not to push my luck.

A few minutes later, the waitress arrived with our food. Again, Henry ordered two entrees and two salads. The table was crowded with all the plates.

I wasn’t exactly dainty as I sucked down my steak and potato.

Henry took a break from shoveling food into his gob. “Seriously, you need to eat more often, Rose. You skip too many meals.”

“Since I’ve been working two jobs, my schedule has been a little hectic. I don’t always have time.”

He pointed a carrot at me. “You should make time. Keeping regular blood sugar throughout the day is important.”

I scanned his biceps, the muscles rippling and bulging with each movement of his arms. “You must work out like crazy, huh?”