Trapped by Revenge: A Shelby Nichols Adventure (4 page)

Chris exhaled in frustration. “Have you forgotten who these people are? How can you trust them? They’re criminals!”

“I know, but…”

“For all you know Manetto could have set this whole thing up. I know it doesn’t make sense, unless he wanted to use you to bring somebody out into the open. Or just let his enemies know he doesn’t fool around when they mess with him.”

“Chris… stop. He wouldn’t have sent me there if he knew Killpack would be dead. You’re jumping to the wrong conclusions.”

“Maybe,” Chris conceded. “But when you’re working for someone like Manetto, you shouldn’t be so trusting. With people like that…as long as you follow their rules, they’ll let you live, but the minute you break them, they’ll turn on you. Especially if you know too much.”

I didn’t want to believe it, but part of me knew it was true. If I turned on him, would Uncle Joey really get rid of me? Wasn’t that why I always did what he asked? Still, it didn’t seem possible that he’d actually kill me. And what about Ramos? No way would he do it. So Chris had to be wrong. Right?

“That’s why I always make sure I know as little as possible,” I said.

Chris sighed and his shoulders drooped. “Shelby.” He pulled me into his arms and held me tight. He felt bad that he’d probably scared me, but this was just one more situation that drove him crazy. He didn’t know what would come of it, and it worried him. He wished for the thousandth time that I’d never had anything to do with Manetto.

“Maybe it’s not so bad.” I tried to console him. “Dimples is the detective investigating the murder, and I told him I’d help him with the case if he needed me. I don’t think you have to worry about me so much. It’s probably just a disgruntled client who killed Killpack. Besides, I’m too valuable to Uncle Joey for him to ever want me dead. And I know Ramos would never do it.”

“Yeah… right.” Chris didn’t like Ramos much. He knew in his gut that Ramos cared for me. Hell, he’d saved my life too many times not to. In one way it was okay, because Ramos would have a hard time killing me if Manetto ordered it. But on the other hand, he didn’t want Ramos to get any ideas about me. I was his, and he wasn’t sharing.

“Honey,” I said. “I love you. I know this is a bad situation and I’m sorry. Please try not to worry too much. It’s going to be fine.” I didn’t acknowledge his thoughts about Ramos, knowing that talking about it wouldn’t do any good, and kissed him instead. Soon he wasn’t thinking about anything else but me. Just how I liked it.

“Mom!” Savannah called. “Where are you?”

We heard her coming down the hall and reluctantly pulled apart.

“I’m in the study,” I called, trying to keep my tone steady, even though my heart was pumping like I’d just run a fifty-meter dash.

She popped her head in. “I promised Ash I’d come over to help her with her… homework.” She was thinking about putting purple and blue steaks in her hair. It would look so cute. “Can you take me over?”

“What are you doing to your hair?” I asked.

“What? I never said… it’s homework not hair.”

“Hmm… let me think about it.” I pursed my lips, trying to decide what to do. I couldn’t let her ruin her beautiful golden locks with purple and blue streaks. Yikes! That would look terrible. I decided to go with the more direct approach. “I have a feeling there’s more going on here. Must be my premonitions. Care to explain?”

“There’s nothing else going on,” she said, thinking that sometimes she hated my premonitions. They always ruined everything. Why couldn’t I just be normal, like everyone else’s parents. “We’re just doing homework.”

“You know if you come home and there’s something different with your hair, I’m going to know that you lied to me, right?” I asked. “You know what happens when you get lied to. It means you can’t trust that person as much, and that leads to restricting their freedom. It’s called being accountable for your actions.”

“I know mom,” she moaned. “I’ve heard it a thousand times already. All summer long. It’s all you ever talk about. I’m not doing anything wrong, okay? It’s just a little hair dye. It comes out after you wash it a few times. Geeze.”

“Really? It comes out?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, even though she thought it probably wouldn’t. All that mattered to her was getting it done with her friends.

Chris was shaking his head, thinking that I needed to cut Savannah some slack and let her be a teenager. If the only crazy thing she ever did was color her hair, what was so bad about that?

I turned to him and narrowed my eyes. “You know she’s only twelve, right? She’s not a teenager yet.”

“Um… okay,” he said.

I wasn’t ready to let her ruin her hair, so I made a proposition I hoped I wouldn’t regret. “Okay, but I’m coming with you. I know how to do streaks, and I’m not sure you do.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “In fact, it might look better if you just do the tips of your hair. I’ve seen that a lot, and I know how to do that too. But you should probably only do one color.”

“Seriously? Like… I was just thinking I’d like that better! So you can do that?”

“Sure. I just need some tin foil.”

“Okay!” Savannah bounced off to get the foil.

“But I’ll only do it if it washes out!” I yelled after her. I turned to Chris. “Okay, well, I guess I know what I’m doing tonight.”

“Do you really know how to do her hair like that?” Chris asked.

“What? You think I’m lying?”

“Of course not,” he said with a sly smile. “I mean… I don’t know, am I?”

“Nope. You’re thinking that you’d better play nice or I might be mad at you, and a happy wife means a happy life. Right?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” I murmured.

“Come on Mom!” Savannah yelled. “I’ve got the tin foil!”

I shook my head, wondering what I’d gotten into, and turned to leave. Chris caught my wrist and quickly pulled me into his arms. “We’ll talk more about this later,” he said, holding me tightly. “And I promise it will go better.” He was thinking that he loved me, and the main reason he got so upset was that it worried him that someday he’d get a phone call, or the police would show up to tell him I was dead. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing me.

“Thanks honey,” I said. Having his arms around me was like getting a happy shot, and I felt warm and protected. This situation was difficult, and I knew it wasn’t fair to put him through it, but I also knew I didn’t want to leave him out. I’d tried that before, and it hadn’t worked out so well. He wanted to be included in my dealings with Uncle Joey, but it was hard when he got so mad. On the other hand, how could I blame him? I’d be upset too. I was upset. I just needed to get control of the situation. I needed to take charge and use my ability to get what was necessary, so I wouldn’t be a victim in all this. And Chris could help me do it. It wasn’t bigger than both of us together. I kissed him quickly before walking out the door.

Chapter 4

The second morning of school was a little less frantic than the first, mostly because Savannah got ready early, excited to show off the blue tips in her hair. She’d also worn a lot of blue, which I thought was counterintuitive, but I kept my mouth shut. The only thing that marred her grand entrance was that both Chris and Joshua failed to notice anything different. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I didn’t point out that it was most likely because her blue hair blended into her blue shirt. I also knew there wasn’t time for her to change before the carpool picked her up.

After Chris and the kids left, the whole incident from yesterday came crashing down around me, and I wondered if I should call Uncle Joey. It would be nice to know what was going on. But since I figured he’d call if he found out anything new, I decided to get my mind off it by doing some work on my consulting agency.

I had a client who wanted some help finding out what her teenage daughter did while she was at work. She was worried about drugs and boys, so I figured there was a good chance she was right. Usually a parent’s intuition is spot on, as long as they’re willing to look at it. Most parents don’t want to believe the truth, so they turn a blind eye to the signs and hope it will just go away. This didn’t help them or their kids.

My client was surprised that I only wanted to talk to them both, rather than follow her daughter around. But I convinced her I could get the truth out of her without all that spy stuff. Now I just needed to set up a time to meet.

I picked up my phone and noticed the newspaper on the table. My gaze was drawn to the front page where a picture of Sam Killpack next to the caption “Private Investigator Murdered” was featured on the bottom half of the page. Billie Payne was named in the byline, and my stomach tightened. I scanned the print for any mention of my name, realizing I hadn’t told her not to use it when she came over last night. Damn! There it was!

It read, “Shelby Nichols, a colleague in the business, discovered the body when she came to confer with the victim about a case they were working on together.” That didn’t seem too bad, but then she went on to quote me with: “I don’t know who did this, but it looks like Killpack got too close to the truth in a case he was working on and was killed for it.” Did I really say that? She went on to add that because of my proximity to the murder, I had offered my services to the police in helping them solve the case. She even mentioned how I had solved the mystery of the missing money from the bank robbery a few months ago, and hoped my involvement in this case would help catch the killer.

Yikes! I’d told Dimples I’d help him if he wanted, but that was all. So what she’d said wasn’t exactly true. Plus, if the murderer was out there reading the paper, he’d think I was involved as well. This could be bad. And I didn’t think Uncle Joey would like it either. Why had I ever talked to Billie Jo Payne?

My phone rang, and I jerked in surprise. Maybe it was Uncle Joey with some news. Nope, it was the police department instead. I hoped I wasn’t in trouble with Dimples.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hey Shelby,” Dimples greeted me, but his voice didn’t have the usual friendly tone I was used to. “I was just wondering if you could come down to the station. I have a few questions about the case I’d like to ask.”

“Um… sure,” I agreed. “Do you have any leads?”

“A few,” he hedged. “I’ll explain more when you get here.”

“Okay. I can be there in about forty-five minutes.”

“Good. See you then.” He disconnected and I set down my phone with a gnawing feeling that I’d missed something. But I shook it off, knowing it was probably just nerves and the article in the paper that caused it. I hurried to get ready and left a half hour later.

After parking at the precinct, I put my honorary police ID badge around my neck and hustled in to find Dimples. He’d been watching for me and stood to greet me, but his usual open attitude was missing, along with his dimples.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. He glanced at all the people staring at us and motioned toward a door. “Let’s talk in here where we can have some privacy.” He led me into an office, thinking how hard this was going to be, and hating that he had to question me at all. But he had no choice and wasn’t about to let anyone else do it. Not when they’d treat me like a criminal. He knew I wasn’t involved. I couldn’t be.

“What… what’s going on?” I asked. My stomach clenched with foreboding. “I’m getting some bad vibes here.”

“Please, sit down,” he motioned to a small sofa, and took a seat across from me. He sat on the edge of his seat and hunched toward me. All at once, I realized this was the room where they told people bad news and questioned family members of dead victims.

My heart skipped a beat. “Did somebody die?” I couldn’t imagine what was going on. What did he think I was involved in?

“No.” Dimples pursed his lips. He could see how scared I was and it broke his heart. “We found the gun that killed Killpack.”

“That’s good,” I said, a little relieved. Dimples’ lips thinned even more and my stomach tightened. “Isn’t it?” Then I knew what he was going to say before he said it, and my heart skipped a beat.

“It’s registered to your husband.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“I know,” he agreed. “And I double-checked it myself, just to make sure. I’m sorry, but it definitely belongs to Chris.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. I mean we have a gun, but Chris keeps it locked in a safe in our closet at home. I’m sure it’s still there. You must be wrong. There’s got to be a mistake. Besides, Chris would never use it to kill anyone.”

“We have the gun, Shelby,” Dimples said. “It’s definitely the murder weapon. It’s registered to Chris and has his fingerprints… and your fingerprints all over it.”

“No. That’s not possible. It can’t be right.” I caught Dimples’ gaze, pleading with him to give me an explanation that made sense. “If it’s true, then someone must have stolen it. They must have broken into our house and into the safe! I need to go home and check right now.” Thoughts of someone breaking into my house filled me with horror.

I jumped to my feet, but Dimples caught my arm. “Slow down Shelby. Just take a deep breath and let’s figure this out.” He maneuvered me back onto the couch, but kept his hand on my arm. “I’m just as confused as you are. I don’t know what’s going on, but… I know you didn’t do it.”

“What?” I shrugged his hand off me. “The police think I killed him?”

“Not exactly.”

“But… I’m a suspect?” He nodded, and my heart sank.

“Yes. But we’re not charging you with anything.” He’d already checked with Chris’ secretary, and learned that Chris had an airtight alibi. That left me as their only lead, but until they had more, they weren’t going to formally charge me with anything.

“Okay. That’s good. I think.” All the strength left me. I felt a lump in my throat and tears gathering in my eyes.

“You have to understand that you were there… at the approximate time of death. The murder weapon belongs to your husband and you had access to it. So yeah, it makes you a suspect, but there’s no motive, and no reason why you would kill him.”

“Okay. That’s true.” I blinked, and a few tears spilled down my cheeks.

“We’re going through Killpack’s files,” Dimples added. “So hopefully, we’ll find more information on who might have had a motive to kill him.”

“Then you’ve got to let me help you,” I said, wiping my face. “It’s the only way I can clear my name. With my premonitions, I’m sure I can pick something up.”

“No.” Dimples shook his head. “I’m sorry Shelby, but as a suspect, I can’t let you anywhere near this investigation. I’m really sorry. But don’t worry… I’ll do everything I can for you. I know you didn’t do this.”

“Where did they find the gun?”

“It was inside the garbage receptacle of the women’s restroom, in a shopping bag.” He was thinking the bag also contained a pair of cloth gloves and a rag, but didn’t think I needed to know that. He also had a feeling in his gut that I’d been set up, but he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to do this to me. He knew I’d worked for Joe “The Knife” Manetto at one point, but he didn’t think I did anymore. Would “The Knife” set me up for something? Especially if I’d refused to work for him? It was probably a lead they’d have to check out, and he might as well ask me a few questions about it now.

“I know you used to work for Thrasher Development,” he began. “Do you still do any work for them?”

“Why? Do you think they set me up?” I couldn’t tell him the truth and figured it was better to answer his question with a question he was actually thinking about.

“Well, not really, but I can’t think of anyone else with a reason to do it.”

“I see what you mean,” I answered. “But I doubt they had anything to do with it.”

“Probably not, but I’m going to call their office and talk to them anyway.” He was thinking that I’d better bring my lawyer husband in on this pretty fast.

“That’s fine,” I answered.

“And you might want to think about anyone you’ve worked for lately who would want to frame you for murder.”

My stomach lurched. Who would do this to me? I never would have believed it, if not for the gun. A cold chill ran down my spine to know someone had gone to a lot of trouble to break into my house just to steal the gun and set me up. “All right, I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t worry… we’ll get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, please let me know if you think of anything that could help me clear your name.”

“Okay,” I said. My brain seemed to have shut down, and I couldn’t think straight anymore. I even felt a little cross-eyed and my throat hurt from holding back tears. “Am I free to go?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Just don’t leave town.”

I glanced at him, incredulous that he’d say that. “Seriously?”

His face turned red and he glanced at the floor. “Sorry, but it’s standard procedure.”

“Fine. I promise not to leave town.” That got me mad, but in a way I was glad, because now I didn’t feel so scared. I swallowed my fear and let the anger that was building in me come to the surface. He hadn’t arrested me, so that meant I was free to figure this out. The only problem with that was I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I knew one thing for sure: whoever had done this to me would be sorry.

I stood to leave, but Dimples hesitated at the door. “I know you’ll probably want to look into this yourself. But I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Not going to happen,” I said, with a glint of steel in my eyes so he’d know I meant it.

“Then at least call me if you find out something, and let me handle it. I don’t want you to get hurt, and this needs to be done by the book, or there’s no telling what might happen. Here’s my cell number.” He wrote it on the back of his card and handed it to me, knowing he was breaking rules to help me out, but he trusted my premonitions and didn’t want me to end up like Killpack.

“Thanks.” I took the card and slipped it into my purse.

“Good. There’s one more thing…” He flushed with guilt, hating that he had to ask me to surrender my honorary badge until I was cleared. After telling me I was a murder suspect, this was like pouring salt into an open wound. He was afraid I’d start to cry again, and it was breaking him up inside.

“Here,” I said, taking the badge off my neck. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to cry. Just promise me you’ll find the real killer. Okay?” I slipped the badge into his hands. “When this is over I want it back.”

His breath caught. It was uncanny how I did that, almost like I’d read his mind. He took the badge and glanced into my eyes. I felt his relief that I wasn’t falling apart, and underneath that, I sensed his determination to help me however he could. His smile came next, and his dimples magically appeared in all their glory. I couldn’t help smiling back. Just knowing he was on my side gave me the courage to walk out of there with my head up and my shoulders back.

Dimples escorted me out. As I walked through the station, several people glanced my way. They all knew what was going on and felt bad that I was the prime suspect in the case. They were all thinking there was no way I could kill anyone, and they wanted to help prove my innocence. The police chief even nodded at me as I passed his door. He was thinking that I’d better be innocent because he hated seeing his people upset.

It helped me feel better that most everyone was pulling for me, and I hoped they didn’t change their minds any time soon. I caught a flash of irritation and disgust sent my way, and glanced around the room until I found the person it came from. I hadn’t seen his face here before, and I quickly pulled my gaze away before he caught me staring.

“Who’s that new guy over there by the window?” I quietly asked Dimples. “The one with the short, fuzzy hair.”

Dimples caught sight of him and nodded. “That’s Detective Bates. He transferred here from another precinct uptown.”

“How long ago was that?” I asked.

“Just last week. Why?” Dimples frowned at me, wondering if I’d had a premonition about him.

“I’ve just never seen him before,” I answered. I didn’t add that he made me nervous since he was thinking I had everyone fooled if they thought I wasn’t capable of murder. In his mind anyone was capable of killing… all it took was the right circumstances to pull the trigger. The way things looked around here, he might be the only objective thinker in the room.