White Offerings (19 page)

Her phone rang and she absently flipped it open. “Nelson.”

“Detective Nelson, this is Jack Adams.”

Molly’s eyes widened and she lost her breath. She’d left a message for him earlier and spent half an hour thinking of what she would say. Now, she couldn’t even remember the first three lines of her speech, designed to show off her professionalism and uncanny ability for police work. Jack Adams was a legend in the Phoenix P.D., but his role as Ari’s father was far more significant to her. “Thanks for calling me back,” she said automatically. “Sol Gardener thought you might be able to help me. I’m working on a case involving Vince Carnotti.”

“Really? Well, it took a long time, but I knew that slime would surface again. Tell me the details.”

She laid out the circumstances, describing Itchy’s confession and his subsequent murder. “I’m looking at a guy named John Rondo, Carnotti’s cousin. Does his name sound familiar?”

Adams sighed. “Maybe. There were lots of wiseguys and witnesses that came up. After Louie Noe was killed, we dug through Carnotti’s life very carefully. I could have written that asshole’s family tree by the time I was done.”

She scribbled down the name. “Was Louie Noe the undercover cop that was killed?”

“Yeah. Really a stand-up guy. He’d gotten pretty deep into Carnotti’s organization. We were just about to bring him out and use his evidence to nail Carnotti when he wound up in a Dumpster. Never caught the killer, and the investigation went south after that.”

Molly’s pen stopped moving, and she noticed Adams’s voice had faltered. When he offered nothing else, she assumed that his memories were tied to Ari and his wife. “So you got any advice?”

“I’d go back through Louie’s file. That was ’ninety-three. Check my notes. I reference about five other cases in there, all murders and drug deals tied to Carnotti. Louie Noe’s death was really the last piece. The trail went cold after that. It was almost like Carnotti packed up his operation, but he just went underground. I always thought there was a leak. Somebody was on the take and that’s why Louie wound up dead. You solve that mystery, Nelson, and I’ll owe you.”

Molly brightened at the idea of being in Jack Adams’s favor, particularly before Ari introduced them. “Thanks, Jack. You’ve been a big help.”

Adams scoffed. “I ain’t done shit. Biggest disappointment in my career was not catching Louie’s killer. You need any more help or if you just want to bounce ideas, call me anytime. Got that?”

She smiled. She couldn’t help but like him, despite his problems with Ari. “You bet. Thanks.”

She hung up and went in search of Louie Noe’s file. She nodded to a few rookies as she boarded the elevator and pressed “B” for basement. The doors opened to a dimly lit room and a damp smell. She knew this place had been forgotten each time the city remodeled the police station. There was never enough money, and since only Doug Dailey, the records manager, had to live down here every day, there weren’t enough complaints to warrant action. She inhaled and it felt like a thousand mold spores clogged her lungs.

She flipped a light switch and noticed little change, except an extra level of gray washed over the room, exposing the maze of shelves and file cabinets. While much information was now stored electronically, she knew that boxes and file folders would always be a part of police work, and Doug would always have a job. She wandered down a row of filing cabinets, searching for the mid-’90s. The room was spotted in shadows, the fluorescent tubes poorly placed. It was the reason cops located the files and checked them out. A person could go blind trying to read in the bad lighting. She turned one more corner of cabinets and knew she was getting closer, having passed 1992. She twisted and turned with the aisle, realizing there was no real logic to the organization. Doug, who had been with the department for thirty-two years, merely added another cabinet at the end of the trail each time it was necessary, creating a winding gauntlet around the room.

Her eyes focused on the typewritten placards on the face of each drawer. She frowned when she realized the drawer she needed was at the floor level. She squatted and pulled it open, trying to balance herself and thumb through the manila files at the same time, which had been squashed together tightly.
Wouldn’t want an inch of space to go unused
, she thought. Halfway through the drawer she found Louis Noe. She pulled out the thick file and checked the information inside. Jack Adams’s name was listed prominently. She closed the file, just as a weird sensation drifted over her. She suddenly felt she wasn’t alone. Her gaze swept down the row, but she saw no one. “Anybody here?” she called.

She listened carefully—and heard feet. They were hurrying to the exit. She grabbed the file and ran back through the maze. A few times she veered the wrong way, and she cursed under her breath. Just as she came upon the center aisle, the one leading directly to the elevator, she heard the polite ding and saw the doors close, on an apparently empty car.

Thursday, October 19th

11:55 AM

“We’re sorry we’ve wasted so much of your time, Ari. I guess James and I need to communicate better about what we want.”

James and Rochelle Ferguson glared at each other, working to preserve a sliver of civility in her presence. James nodded stiffly in her direction and headed toward the car, not bothering to acknowledge his wife. Ari remained on the sidewalk with Rochelle, and the two of them watched James start the car and stare out the windshield. Ari could see the anger in his face from twenty feet.

“He’s not usually like this,” Rochelle said. “I thought he wanted to buy a house and start a family.” Her voice trailed off in disappointment. When she faced Ari, tears streaked her cheeks. “We’ll call you in a few days. I’m sure we’ll be ready by then.”

Ari watched Rochelle join her husband. He gunned the engine and the Corvette sped from the curb. She sighed, knowing it was unlikely they would call back. Another lost commission. Oh, well. She could always eat macaroni and cheese for a month.

They had bickered throughout the morning, James clearly annoyed that Rochelle had phoned a real estate agent. He barely noticed any of the homes, his gaze rarely leaving the floors as they previewed six different houses. Rochelle’s attempts to involve him were answered with grunts or unenthusiastic comments of “That’s nice.”

Instead of purchasing a home, they would probably hire attorneys for a divorce. Ari had seen it before. Jane called it the “Homebuyer Hail Mary,” when a couple made a last-ditch effort to resuscitate their marriage by joining together in a paper nightmare—a mortgage.

She retreated inside and heard Lorraine’s exuberant laughter. Only one person made her laugh that hard, her eldest daughter, Lupe. Since Lorraine had started her family at such a young age, Lupe was more like a sister than a child. Ari paused in the doorway, and Lorraine motioned for her to come inside. She wrapped up her conversation, still laughing as she replaced the receiver onto the cradle.

“That daughter of mine has the most unusual life. A few guys came in for lunch yesterday while she was tending bar and asked her to be part of a commercial.”

Ari’s eyes narrowed. Lupe was incredibly attractive, and Ari’s natural suspiciousness prickled. “Are you sure it’s legitimate?”

Lorraine shook her head. “No, that’s why I’m having them checked out, without Lupe knowing, of course.”

“You wouldn’t be calling Biz Stone, would you?”

“Yes. She’s done some work for me in the past. Do you know her?”

Ari squirmed in her chair and she hoped she wasn’t blushing. “I met her a few days ago. Jane hired her.”

“Good idea. Biz is the best. I’ve known her for three years, and she’s exceptional at what she does.”

“Has she ever told you the story of how she changed her name?”

“Yes.” Lorraine’s face melted into a puddle, and Ari thought she might cry. “So sad and far too familiar to me.”

Ari knew that Lorraine’s ex-boyfriend, the father of her children, had tormented her physically and verbally for years. “So, do you think Biz is the kind of person to hold a grudge?”

Lorraine chuckled and leaned back in her chair. “Ari, I would never want to cross that woman. She does tend to fixate, and she won’t let go. If there’s something she wants, she goes after it until she gets it.”

Ari wondered if what Biz wanted was Jane—or her.

“Why are you asking? Is everything okay?”

She nodded, not wanting to involve her boss in the drama. “Yeah, it’s fine. Hey, how do you know Teri?”

Lorraine looked up from her computer. “Oh, she works for Delores and Mitch Cavanaugh. I sold them their condo a few years back, and I met Teri. They call her their adopted niece. There’s nothing she can’t fix, and she’s amazing with flowers.”

“I met Mrs. Cavanaugh the other day. She was one of the florists we questioned.”

“Well, I’m sure she isn’t stalking Jane, but the woman knows her flowers.” Lorraine reached for a contract on her desk. “Hey, has the Morales home inspection happened yet?”

“No, I was going to call.”

“Good,” Lorraine said.

Ari left her and went back to her office. She had much to do, but her thoughts wandered back to Teri and Biz. Either one of them could be harboring a grudge against Jane for her carefree attitude about romance. She pulled up Biz Stone’s Web site, noticing it was nothing flashy, just basic information about the services provided. There were no pictures, which didn’t surprise her. A PI craved anonymity. Biz didn’t even mention her address, and all Ari knew was that it was located in the Sunnyslope area of Phoenix. She scrolled to the bottom of the screen, and her jaw dropped when she saw the name of Biz’s Webmaster: flowerpower. It most likely was a coincidence, but she was tired of all the flower references that surrounded Jane’s case. The suspect list was growing, not shrinking.

Her cell phone vibrated across her desk, and she realized that she’d forgotten to turn on the ringer after she finished with the Fergusons. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe.”

Ari smiled at the sound of Molly’s voice. “Hey, yourself. What’s going on?”

Molly sighed. “We’re going through files and trying to find leads. Um, I spoke to your dad last night.”

Ari froze in her chair. “You did?”

“Yeah. Sol told me to call him about that case you mentioned. He was really helpful.”

“Oh.”

“Ari, I hope I’m not freaking you out. I just thought I should mention it in case your dad brings it up during one of his phone conversations.”

“You didn’t say anything about us, did you?” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she instantly regretted her tone.

“Would that be so wrong?” Molly asked defensively.

“That’s not what I meant, baby. You know that I intend to tell him about you, but he’s not ready to hear it. He can’t even figure out what to do about my birthday. You understand, don’t you?” There was a long pause, and Ari could hear the police personnel in the background going about their day.

Molly sighed. “Yeah, I get it. I really do.”

It was time to change subjects. “When will I see you tonight?”

“Probably later. I have to do a little shopping for somebody’s birthday.”

Ari smiled. She was off the hook. “Later is better than never. Are you coming to my place?”

“Won’t Jane be there?”

“Not until after midnight. You know she’s a total night owl, and she’s finishing the party plans with Lynne.”

Molly chuckled. “Okay, I’ll see you around nine.”

“Great. See you then.” Ari flipped the phone closed, thinking how easy it would have been to add
I love you
at the end of their good-bye. Her stomach rumbled and she decided to check her e-mail and run out for a bite. She whipped out a few quick responses to some of her clients’ questions, most asking about the status of their transactions. She clicked on an unknown address with Happy Birthday on the subject line and was surprised to see a greeting card appear. She smiled, wondering which of her friends had remembered her birthday. A green button appeared on the screen and she clicked it to start the card, suddenly wishing she could rewind the action as she did it, since it occurred to her that she didn’t recognize the address. The background turned to black and a white orchid materialized on the screen. She swallowed hard as the orchid grew in size until it filled the frame. Her attention was drawn to the center, where a speck of blood emerged and dripped down the petal. Almost as quickly as it had appeared, the entire picture dissolved and the e-mail disappeared. She found herself staring at her e-mail list again and wondering about the strange address. Gone was the original e-mail as well, and she doubted she would ever remember the address.

Her heart was beating fast as she picked up her phone and dialed Biz. The detective answered on the second ring. “Stone.”

“Biz, it’s Ari. Somebody just sent me a really weird e-mail card.” She described the orchid and its disappearance from the screen.

“Do you remember anything about the address?”

“It was a series of letters and numbers, like something you would pick for a bank password, not anything you would want people to remember.” She clicked into her Deleted folder and couldn’t find it. “I assumed it was just one of those cute cards from the American Greetings Web site,” she explained, suddenly feeling very stupid.