Shadow Tag (The Ray Schiller Series - Book 2) (5 page)

Waverly finished his coffee. “Our investigation has turned up some inconsistencies. We can’t ignore other possibilities.”

Chalmers’s eyes widened.

Ray smiled, trying to put him at ease. “We appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Chalmers. We have just a few more questions for you.”

He scratched at the salt-and-pepper hairs poking over the neck of his undershirt. “Sure, no problem. Go ahead.”

“Do you think it’s possible Johnson could have let someone in without remembering having done it—or maybe forgot to have them sign in?”

“Because of his drinking, you mean?”

“For
any
reason.”

“Well, he’s not senile if that’s what you’re getting at. He drinks—no question about that. I can’t say what he does anywhere else, but at work he kinda paces himself—tries to keep his head about him. Know what I’m sayin’?”

“You’re telling us he’s a conscientious drunk?” Waverly said.

“I’m saying he tries to keep it under control…on the job at least. Anyhow, even if he messed up that night, don’t you think he’d have come clean about it?”

Ray cocked his head. “If he’s as afraid of losing his job as you say, why would he?”

“Hell, guys, being unemployed is no picnic,” Chalmers said, “but it still beats the crap out of facing a murder rap, if that’s what we’re talking about.”

It was hard to argue with the logic.

Waverly held his cup out for a refill as Audrey Chalmers silently extended the pot in his direction. “Todd Gaines,” he said. “What can you tell us about him?”

“Not a lot. He’s tall, dark and handsome.
Real
dark, if you get my drift.” Chalmers waited for a laugh, got none and continued. “He’s a black kid. ACC part-timer, college student full-time. Math major or something like that. Brainiac, ya know?”

“Are you aware of any connection between Gaines and Paul Davis?” Ray asked.

“Nope.”

“Ever hear Gaines talk about him—mention him in any way?”

Chalmers paused, stroking the small wattle on his throat. “Just that he was as surprised as me that Mr. Davis hadn’t booted Michael out on his ass like he said he would that time. I don’t think I ever heard Gaines mention him before or since.”

Waverly set his coffee down. “Not even once?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Even after Davis’s death?”

Chalmers slurped his coffee. “Haven’t spoken to Gaines since then. The kid quit.”

“When was this?”

“The day they found Davis’s body in the boardroom.” He watched a look pass between Waverly and Ray. “Hey, it shook me up plenty, too. If it wasn’t for the age thing, I might’ve quit and looked for another job myself. The whole thing kinda gave me the willies. That’s the truth.”

Ray and Waverly stood in unison.

“Mr. Chalmers, thanks for your help.” Wincing, Ray turned in a half-crouch to Audrey Chalmers. “Thank you, too, ma’am.”

At the door, Waverly gave the security guard one of his cards. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful, give us a call.”

“You betcha,” Chalmers said, tugging at the gap in his robe. “I’ll do that.”He shut the door behind them. From the other side they heard his voice. “There’s no way I’m gonna be able to get back to sleep now, Audrey. Bring yourself over here, you little sweet pea.”

She giggled like a schoolgirl.

Waverly chuckled. “Sounds like Chalmers is planning to do a little ‘gardening’. Doesn’t seem like a man with a guilty conscience to me.”

Ray tried to straighten his back. “Right. I think we can scratch him off our list…for now, anyway.”

They got into the car and Waverly checked for Todd Gaines’ address in his notebook. “Don’t get too comfortable, buddy,” he said, pulling away from the curb, “we’ll be there in no time.”

“Comfortable? Not likely.” A sharp right turn made Ray cringe. “Chalmers seemed straightforward enough. Johnson, though… He was as hostile as hell.”

“But a man with nothing to hide.” Laughing, Waverly repeated the ‘flasher’ gesture with his jacket.

“That’s getting old in a hurry.”

Waverly laughed. “Only from your perspective.”

“Look, before we get there, what’s your take on the Gaines kid?”

“I haven’t talked to him yet.”

Ray turned his head to see if he was joking. “You’re kidding, right?”

Waverly’s knuckles went white around the steering wheel. “Schaefer claimed the kid’s a dead end.”

“Then Todd Gaines
was
interviewed.”

“Yeah, but by my ex-partner, not me.” Waverly kept his eyes on the road. “That being the case, I don’t know how much the information’s worth.”

“Look, I know Schaefer was demoted, but just how bad was he?”

“He’s an okay guy and a good cop, but as a detective he wasn’t making the grade. He was kinda hit-or-miss a lot of the time—too damn inconsistent. He might’ve done okay with this Gaines kid, maybe not. I can’t swear to it one way or the other.”

“If you knew that, why didn’t you check Gaines out yourself?”

“Believe me, I tried—three times at least. Either Gaines is mighty damn busy, or he’s intentionally ducking me.”

“Let’s hope we get lucky and pin him down today.”

“Yeah.” Waverly let out a heavy sigh. “Ray…”

“What?”

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

“I’ve got a couple spare minutes on my hands. Go ahead.”

“The cool reception you’ve been getting at the precinct…”

“What about it?”

“The guys think Roth should’ve given Schaefer more time to get his act together before demoting him. It stinks that you’re getting the cold shoulder treatment over it.”

“Don’t worry about it. I expected some noses would be out of joint; I’m just surprised to hear it’s about that. As an outsider, I knew my getting the detective opening over a local cop was bound to go down hard.”

“Well, yeah, there’s that, too,” Waverly said. “It’s prob’ly a horse apiece. I promise you they’re good guys, though. Give ’em a little time. They’ll get over it.”

“I’ve seen you take some flack, too.”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Frankly, where my old partner’s concerned, I don’t give a damn what they think. They didn’t have to work with the guy; I did. Should’ve happened sooner.” Waverly gunned the engine and made a left-hand turn. “About the Gaines kid…” he said, “so far, there’s nothing to tie him to Paul Davis. But his quitting like he did… It sounds off. Could be he was just shook up or—”

“Or there wasn’t any reason for him to stick around,” Ray finished for him. “Maybe he’d accomplished what he set out to do.”

5

Todd Gaines’ house was practically the mirror image of the Chalmers’ place, but while the structures were equally unimpressive, that’s where the similarity ended. Flower boxes boasted petunias, English ivy and pansies. No weeds poked through the walkway cracks, and a freshly trimmed hedge set the postage-stamp yard apart from the neighboring properties.

An affable woman of generous proportions greeted them at the door. She bore a striking resemblance to the pleasant image Ray still retained of the Aunt Jemima of old, whose smiling face once adorned syrup bottles.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “my grandson’s not home just now, but you come on in out of the heat, and I’ll give him a call.” She saw them in and walked away still talking, her buttocks rising and falling like massive pistons with each step. “He’s over at his friend Martin’s place,” she called from the kitchen. “Todd’s helping him work on his sorry excuse of a car. Hang on while I get ahold of him.”

A minute later, she returned carrying a black enamel serving tray with three ice-filled glasses and a heavy pitcher brimming with lemonade and a flotilla of ice cubes. “Martin says Todd headed home a little bit ago. Oughta be getting back anytime now.” She set the tray down and poured the lemonade. “You’ve got just enough time for a cold drink while you wait.”

The ice cubes clinked against the glasses already glistening with condensation. The sight and sound seemed to lower the room’s temperature by ten degrees.

“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t think to ask. Maybe you fellas would prefer coffee.”

Ray licked a drop of lemonade from his lips. “No, ma’am, this is perfect. Thanks.”

Waverly took a long drink, savoring the cold, sweet/tart tang and said, “I imagine you know why we’re here, Mrs. Gaines.”

Her smile faded. “I suppose it’s about that awful business where Todd worked.” She shook her head. “Such an awful thing that poor man killing himself like that.”

“Maybe you can answer a few questions for us while we wait for Todd,” Waverly said.

“Will if I can.” She settled her bulk in a corner of an overstuffed floral couch.

“We heard your grandson quit his job at ACC the day after Paul Davis was found dead.”

“That’s right. The very next day.”

“Any particular reason he quit so suddenly?” Ray asked.

She tilted her head. “Particular reason?”

“Was it a coincidence? I mean, prior to Mr. Davis’s death, had Todd already planned on quitting that day?”

“No,” she said, smoothing her dress. “He liked it there. Well, not the job so much, but it was convenient. That time of night, ain’t nothin’ going on over there, so he got to study and work pretty much at the same time. It worked out for him. He talked about staying on ’til he found something permanent after graduation. Mark my words, somebody will snap him up real quick.” Her smile returned, broader than before. “Bright as a two hundred watt bulb, that boy.”

Ray took another quick sip. “So why’d he quit?”

“The way that man killed himself like that... It was a terrible thing. Just terrible. Todd took it real bad.”

“Why’s that? Did he know Mr. Davis personally?”

She gave Ray an indulgent smile. “Detective, Mr. Davis didn’t associate with folks like us. People like him… Well, they figure they’re better than most.” She put her hand on her ample chest. “Mind you, that goes for some other folks, too, but his kind especially.”

“Then, why did your grandson take his death so hard? Has he talked with you about what happened that night?”

“I asked, but Todd’s like his daddy was; he keeps his feelings to himself. Sad thing is, Todd wasn’t even supposed to work that night. Didn’t want to neither—had finals coming up the next day.” She plumped up the striped accent pillow beside her, flattening it again as she laid her arm across it. “Someone took sick, and Todd had to fill in.”

“I see. So did Todd share anything with you about that night?”

“Just that the man’s death bothered him real bad—that he felt responsible.”

Ray jumped on it. “Responsible how?”

“Don’t go taking that wrong; that’s just the way he is. He loads lotsa stuff on his shoulders—things he shouldn’t. My grandson’s a good boy.” Her face glowed as she told them, “Got himself a scholarship, you know. U of M—Twin Cities. An academic scholarship, not one of them athletic things. Not that he ain’t athletic, mind you, but he’s smart as a whip besides.”

At the sound of a noisy muffler, she straightened up to look out the front window. A green, rusty Corsica was slowing to a crawl on the street in front of the house. “There’s Todd now,” she said.

Waverly got up and moved to the window to look for himself. The Corsica pulled up well behind their car, idling several feet from the curb. A moment later, Gaines revved the engine and drove away.

Mrs. Gaines stood and watched the Corsica take a quick right at the end of the block. “Where in the world is he going?”

“Wish I knew,” Waverly said in disgust.

“My stars.” She looked at them with an unspoken apology written in the lines of her face. “I don’t know where he’s gone off to. If he knew you were waiting to see him, he’d have come in.”

Openly sarcastic, Waverly grumbled, “Of course he would.”

“Want me to have him call you when he gets back?”

His annoyance evident, Waverly replied, “Yes, you do that.”

She saw them out, offering a feeble smile. “I’m sorry about Todd driving off that way, makin’ you wait for nothin.”

“We really need to speak with your grandson, Mrs. Gaines,” Ray said. “See what you can do, will you?”

“I’ll do that.”

Turning before the door closed behind them, Ray said, “We appreciate your help, and that lemonade really hit the spot. Thanks very much.”

As they got back in their car, Waverly slammed his door. “That damn kid’s as slippery as a greased banana peel.”

“Maybe he’s got good reason. Does he have a record?” Ray asked.

“He’s clean; we checked. I’d sure as hell like to know why he keeps giving me the slip.”

“That makes two of us.”

6

As Ray and Waverly left Todd Gaines’s home, Ed Costales was leaning back in his chair in the president’s office of ACC, the leather cradling his body. His face was reflected in the gleaming surface of his desk, a desk he’d personally selected for effect—impressive and larger by half than the one left behind by Chet Stockton. Everything about the office exuded a feeling of authority, power, and success.