Ring Around the Rosy (4 page)

Susan looked at him and shrugged.
Thick glasses covered light-brown eyes that held a spark of something. Desire?
She hoped not.

“So you’re not going to do
anything about it?”

“What’s to do? Ernie can do
anything he wants. He runs the paper. He wants a seasoned reporter on it, said
it’s too big for someone of my limited experience.” She shrugged. “He did
compliment me, though — said it was good work getting it in before the
deadline. She turned toward the gardens, looking for Mark. “Come on, let’s get to
work.”

Gary took pictures while she
conducted the interview. He was a good photographer, but Susan preferred
working with Ray or Gloria. They were more outgoing and fun to work with,
especially Gloria. She livened up an otherwise boring assignment, and this one
definitely fit the bill.

Every time Susan tried to make a
joke, Gary sighed. Mark virtually ignored her comments, and Jeff apparently
took his work so seriously, all she got from him was dirty looks. So much for
humor.

Gloria had a way about her and
would have broken through those tough reserves. Obviously, she didn’t have it.

Susan couldn’t tell a rose from a
daisy and didn’t really care. Of course, for the story, she put on a good
pretense, and her lengthy research provided her with enough material to at
least ask intelligent questions. The gardens, she forced herself to admit, were
beautiful. Even though she couldn’t picture herself visiting them, they
presented a great backdrop for wedding pictures. She’d focus on that for part
of her article.

The early morning events made it
difficult to concentrate, but once settled down, she conducted herself
professionally, giving up the idea of humor.

After the interview, Susan hurried
to her car, Thank goodness that was over. Gary followed close behind, trying to
strike up a conversation about the murder. Great, like she wanted to discuss
this. Nope, not with him or anyone else for that matter. Those phone calls had
spooked her, and she didn’t spook easily.

Whimpering cries came from the
pond as they passed it. Gary hurried to the water’s edge, plucked a kitten out
of the water and cradled it against his chest. “Poor little thing almost
drowned. Wonder where it came from.”

“Cute little thing,” Susan said.
Gary’s tenderness surprised her, maybe because she never thought of him as an
animal lover. Course she never much thought of him at all.

Suddenly, a little girl ran toward
them. “That’s my kitty!” She snatched the kitten from Gary’s arms. “Why is he
all wet?”

Gary looked offended. “You should
take better care of him. He almost drowned.”

The little girl’s eyes filled with
tears. “My brother let him out.”

“Well, you be more careful with
him from now on.” Gary’s voice softened.

He shook his head as she walked
away. “Cat probably won’t make it to adulthood. Kids today don’t understand
responsibility,” he said when the girl was out of earshot.

Susan half agreed. She waved her
goodbye and left.

Visions of George Lucas’s body and
memory of the phone call filled her mind while she drove. She couldn’t get that
voice out of her head, no matter how she tried. She tried thinking of the story
she’d write, like she usually did when returning from an assignment, but no go.
Today, that phone call and evil-sounding voice kept intruding.

After parking her car, she hurried
into her building and caught movement from corner of her eye. It looked like
someone sitting in a car across the street, but when she looked again, the car
appeared empty. Probably just her imagination working over time.

Horace came toward her, and she waved
at him, bypassed the elevator, and raced up the steps to avoid talking to him.
Tired, irritated, and still angry about being taken off her assignment, she
didn’t feel much like talking to anyone. Besides, something about that voice
still nagged at her. What was it?

Darn, this could have been her big
chance.

It wasn’t fair. She got there
first. She wrote a good story and turned it in before the deadline. Her writing
was as good as Dan’s or any of the others. What was the big deal about
contacting the police and coroner’s office to find out the cause of death or to
see if they had a suspect? It didn’t involve much work. Just because she didn’t
have any sources on the police department. How was she supposed to establish a
relationship with them if she never had an opportunity?

More than likely, Dan complained.
Big crybaby. He probably felt threatened. Couldn’t have another reporter taking
over his spot. And a woman at that.

Good thing Ernie didn’t know she
was a suspect. A chill ran through her as she recalled Detective Morgan’s
suspicions of her. God, she hoped Dan didn’t get wind of that information. “Put
it out of your mind, sit down and write this story and get on with life.”
 
Bella flew off the couch at the sound of her
angry voice.

“The heck with it.” Susan slammed
her laptop shut, fixed something to eat, and then curled up to read her newest
novel for an hour. It was dark when she decided to sit down to write.

Someone knocked at the door just
as she finished faxing the story.

Looking through the peephole, it
surprised her to see Detective Morgan. She opened the door cautiously. What did
he want this time? Had he come to arrest her?

“Since I was still in the
neighborhood, thought I’d check in, see how you’re doing.”

 
“I’m fine.”

“I see you haven’t covered those
windows yet.” He nodded toward the front windows.

Oh crap, the shades. She spent so
little time in her apartment; it didn’t occur to her she needed them. “Not
something on the top of my list when I go out shopping.”

“Anyone can see into your
apartment even though you’re on the third floor. Every time you stood up, I saw
your every move.”

“You watched me?” Had she heard
him right? Her cheeks burned, as she thought of what he might have seen. What
are you, a peeping Tom?” The gall of this man. She was starting to dislike
Detective David Morgan and his cocky grin and bossy attitude.

“What’s it to you, anyway, if I
don’t want my windows covered?” Susan stamped her foot.

“Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t
watching you. I looked up when I parked my car. You were walking around.”

The look on his face said he
wasn’t going to give up until she agreed to cover them. “Okay, I’ll buy the
shades first thing tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?” He smiled.
“I’ll give you a hand.”

“Maybe I don’t feel like it
tonight.” Could he get any bossier?

“Look, Susan, quit being so damned
stubborn. I’m only trying to help you.”

She couldn’t figure him out. One
minute, he was arrogant, the next he acted concerned and considerate. Maybe she
had misread him. Part of the reason she put off buying shades was she didn’t
even know how to measure for them. Since she couldn’t think of a good reason to
refuse his help, she shrugged. “What the heck. Why not?”

“Great. And call me Dave, okay? No
more of this, ‘detective’ stuff.”

After taking the measurements,
they went to the Wal-Mart store and bought the shades. Shopping with Dave was
surprisingly fun. They even stopped for pizza on the way home.

He still confused the heck out of
her. She actually enjoyed his easy, outgoing-in-a-quiet-sort-of-way manner, and
he seemed to love teasing her. Part of her enjoyed the teasing, but she
couldn’t figure out if he treated her as a friend, or a suspect whose trust he
wanted to gain. Cops resorted to that trick all the time.

As usual, when Susan came into her
apartment, she checked for messages. The red light blinked, and she pressed the
playback button.

The voice came on raspy and harsh.
“Tonight, Jack be nimble, look for the candlestick.” Then the line went dead.

Chills ran up her spine. Her
stomach rolled. She couldn’t catch her breath.

Dave pressed the playback. It was
almost ten o’clock. He took the tape out and put it in his pocket.

“The shades will have to wait. I
have to get this to the station. Want to ride along?”

Chapter Three

“Jack be nimble, Jack be quick. Look out
Jack, I’ve got a candlestick.”

He tightened his hold on the
victim’s neck, squeezing the life out of him, taking pleasure in the way Jack
struggled. Jack’s face turned red, then purple as the life slipped out of him.
Finally, he released his hands on the breathless body and let it fall.

He laughed as Jack’s head hit the
water fountain.

“Not so nimble now are you, Jack?”

Jack opened his eyes, grabbed his
throat, and struggled to get up.

He grabbed the candlestick and bashed
Jack over the head. “Not so quick, Jack.” He clasped his hands around Jack’s
neck again, squeezed, and finished the job.

He stood, rubbed his hands
together and stared at his victim. “You always thought you were the best,
didn’t you? The best receiver on the football team. The best in track. Oh, you
were a quick one, all right. You had the speed. And you had every girl in
school after you.”

He pulled a rag from his knapsack
and stuffed it into the bowl of the water fountain, turned on the water, and jammed
a stick under it to keep it on. Standing back, he watched the water overflow
and drip onto Jack’s head.

Then he picked up Jack’s left hand
and curled his fingers around the candlestick. In his right hand, he stuffed
the nursery rhyme. “Not such a big shot now, are you?”

After cleaning up, he turned to
leave, stopped, looked at the victim one last time, and smiled.

“That’s another one to mark off
the list.” He hurried out of the park.

* * *

Susan couldn’t believe her luck.
Spending the evening with Dave was fun, but being involved in a police
investigation would be a valuable learning experience. Ernie couldn’t take this
away from her. Besides, she liked being with Dave and wasn’t ready for the
evening to end. And, to get an inside look at the investigation. Well, that was
a no-brainer. And now Dave knew she wasn’t the killer. She couldn’t have
planned a better alibi. Not that she liked having to provide one.

After Dave booked the tape into
evidence, he signed it out and took it across the hall.

“Jim, play this and see if you can
get the distortion out. Let’s see if it’s male or female. You know the routine.
Oh, this is Susan Weston. Susan — Sergeant Jim Dahl, our voice technician.” He
motioned for her to have a seat.

“Jim will play the tape and try to
get a clear voice and distinguish an inflection. We know the calls were made
from a phone booth near your apartment. That’s why I asked you to come along.”
Dave grinned at her. “I didn’t want to leave you alone there, especially
without those shades. This call came shortly before we came back.”

Susan just couldn’t get a read on
this guy. Just when she thought he enjoyed being with her and was maybe a
little attracted to her, he ruined it with a comment like that. Dumb jerk. Not
that she cared, anyway.

Did she?

She’d better watch herself; she
was treading on thin ice here. And she was beginning to hate that grin. It
seemed like every time he grinned at her that way, it was a putdown of sorts.
Hurt and annoyed, Susan glared at him. How stupid. She should have known he
couldn’t be attracted to her. She was just his connection to this case, nothing
else. Damn these feelings he provoked in her.

Susan moved away, plopped in a
chair and turned her attention to Sergeant Dahl while he listened to the tape
with headphones on, turning dials. Her scanner squawked. “All units respond to
Ridge Oak Park. Reports of a male body.”

Dave twirled around and looked for
the scanner. Susan held it up, but it wasn’t the type you could respond to. He
ran out of the office.

She raced after him. No way was he
leaving her behind. She followed him through the station to his car and jumped
into the passenger seat. Dave looked as if he were about to object, but then
started the car and sped off.

They arrived at the scene the same
time as several patrol cars. Maple trees lined the park, sheltering it and
making it eerily dark after sunset. Dave identified himself, and a police
officer directed him to the body.

“Stay here.” Dave commanded.

Susan waited until he focused his
attention on the victim, and then followed. No one noticed her because everyone
concentrated on the victim.

Stopping a short distance away,
she stared at the body propped up against a drinking fountain. Water spilled
out of the bowl, splashed onto the victim’s head, and pooled around him. In one
hand, he held a brass candlestick. The other hand grasped a note, the words cut
out from magazines and newspapers. Jack be nimble, Jack wasn’t quick, OOPS,
Jack couldn’t jump over the candlestick. The letters were large enough Susan
could just make them out.