Bye Bye Bones (A CASSIDY CLARK NOVEL Book 1) (24 page)

Maybe I was just lucky that I didn’t require much sleep. Maybe it was because I didn’t have anyone to sleep in with until it was time for Champagne Sunday brunch.

I found myself in Chief Manning’s office at dawn. He was already in his office, but I do think he’d had a night of sleep. At least he had shaved.

“Cassidy, we’ve checked Vickery out, again. She’s cleaner than a surgeon’s scalpel soaking in alcohol.”

“Must have been grain alcohol. Or that tequila with the worm floating in it.”

Manning tossed his worn boots up on his desk. I’d never seen him do that before but at least I didn’t take it as a threat.

“She doesn’t have as much as a traffic ticket, paid or unpaid, as far as we can look back.”

I tilted my head so far to the side that my neck hurt. “Have you ever heard that money can fix a ticket and a whole lot more?”

“Tell me something I don’t know, otherwise I don’t see it. You have a disgruntled divorcee who may have been stalking her ex, but nothing else.”

“You don’t see it because you’re being a horse’s ass. I love you, but you’re my sorry asshole buddy. Blinded by all the crap that floats around you under the disguise of politics. Take your own buddy, the honorable mayor.”

Manning’s feet dropped to the floor. “You know I have to answer to him, Cass. This is an appointed position. Not elected. It’s my job to follow the rules and that is exactly why you’re no longer on the force.”

I straightened my feet flat on the floor and squared my shoulders. “So, here you have a Ms. Sandra Vickery, dripping in Mikimoto pearls while writing out her big fat checks to the mayor, our senators, congresspersons, the governor, and toss in a few local police authorities. Hell, if I look back far enough I bet the woman even hedged her bets, contributing to both parties in a heated race. All under the radar. What did she give you?”

“I serve the people. I have and I will.”

“By letting this She Devil own you?”

“That’s enough of your insults. You dig deep. Give me something more than the fact that she’s acquainted with everyone in town and that she happens to own a fleet of commercial vans and happens to own a few of them with magnetic signs. Until then, our investigation is headed in a different direction.”

“With Jaxon Giles’ ex-girlfriend? Wasn’t that enough for you?”

“You’re no longer a part of our official team, and I’m sorry about that. I wish you were. I went out on a limb contracting with you in the first place. It’s just these damn budget cuts are crippling.”

“Always the money.”

“I may have to let some of the force go. That’s another thing you don’t seem to comprehend. We have rules and protocols, and we have budgets. None of those words register with you.

I’d give him that. They didn’t.

Wonderful. I had both allergies and a massive sinus infection. I already felt like crap, but then I remembered practically accusing David Manning of selling out for an underpaid, stressful job that comes largely without accolades, but rather engulfed in the opposite emotions called outrage and disrespect.

I was second guessing my decision to let Tracy ride along with me. We needed girl time. I’d usually grow bored, but I did have my tablet and I could be writing. She was urgent to ride along. Or sit.

She climbed into the passenger seat, loaded with books and tabloid magazines. “I’m ready for the big night. You did tell me these things are a drag, right?”

“A twosome is just to keep one person from falling asleep,” I said.

I reached and pulled out the boxes of Chinese food from the tattered bench seat behind me, passed them to Tracy, and drove toward the Vickery estate.

I sneezed. “Sorry, Tracy. I’m not contagious. My allergies are kicking up.”

I turned to glance at her just as she asked me to pull over.

Tracy hopped out of the van and puked. And puked again.

I got out of the van and handed her what facial tissues I had. “I’m taking you home. I don’t want to catch whatever it is you have.”

“Let’s keep driving. I’m not contagious, either,” she said.

The bold ebony eyes told me everything, as if reading smoke messages in clear blue skies. I leaned against the already peeling edges of my magnetic sign.

“Spare me. I know what you’re thinking,” Tracy said.

“I’m hoping it’s Kermit the Frog’s kid and you’ll name your firstborn daughter Kermita.”

Her shoulders slumped forward as she dabbed at her chin with the remnants of the last tissue.

“Okay. That was a dumb thing to say. Are you certain of the father?”

“Michael Scores.” She straightened her back and said, “Have you heard from him?”

“He’s off the radar. Yours, too, I guess. Manning is working on it. They’ll find him. Maybe he’s off getting his act and affairs in order and he’ll show up back here.”

She crawled into the van. “Do me one favor. Eat the rest of your Chinese food and get it out of this van before I vomit again.”

I tossed the food after grabbing three more bites of Kung Pao Chicken. “What are you going to do?”

“The baby? I’ll be its home for nine months and welcome him or her in to my life.”

“I’ll help you, you know.”

“With what? Putting Scores behind bars?”

“With the baby.”

“Wait a minute. I thought this was a stakeout. Don’t we stay in our vehicle?”

“You do. I need to take a good look at that outbuilding. Five minutes. It’s Thursday night and our Ice Princess plays Mahjongg at her fancy country club. You have your cell. And one touch on this little gadget gets you a direct line to Manning.” I pointed to the magic button.

“But—”

My gut told me she would be fine. Maybe not so much, me.

Easy for me. I wanted to look inside that building, and the only windows that I could spy were on the far side. Stupid clerestories that were high and unattainable. But for me.

I had just scaled the side of the building when I sneezed. A double whammy, and I’m holding back number three.

Blazing lights flared. I was the prey with nowhere to hide.

I grabbed my cell. “Tracy, get the hell out of here. Drive away. Now.”

“Freeze, lady!”

“And lovely of you to invite me into your inner sanctum, otherwise known as this crap office.”

“Speaking of crap, it scares the crap out of me, but dare I ask what you were doing inside the Vickery compound?”

“I went out for a walk. I got lost.”

“With wire clippers on you? Spare me.”

“A girl always has to be prepared. I saw shelter.”

“No monsoon. No extreme heat. No frigid temperatures.”

“Cut to the chase. Get me my arraignment and get me out of here. I have things to do.”

Manning stared at me with an ingratiating pregnant pause. “There will be no arraignment.”

“What? Go directly to jail without the chance to buy Boardwalk or Park Place?”

“Ms. or Mrs. Vickery, as I’ve not yet learned what she demands to be called, is not pressing charges against you.”

“What a girl.”

“As long as you stay in compliance.”

Manning shoved the envelope over to me.

“You have to be kidding me. She’s taking out a restraining order on me?”

“Correction. She
has
taken out a restraining order on you. I’m warning you, Cassidy, stay away from this woman or next time you will be in the pokey.”

“David, I have to get this woman. I have to get information. You know the drill.”

“So, suddenly I’m back to being David.”

“I vacillate.”

“I believe you. I believe in you. But, again, you have to give me something—anything, I can go on. Meanwhile, remember Vickery is a powerful and formidable force in the community.”

“She’s a rich bitch. And I’ll nail her. What about the FBI?”

“They choose to believe the incidents are unrelated. They’re going after some south of the border cartels.”

“Excellent. So they care nothing about our backyard and that means that are out of our hair. Except, of course, they want to know everything that we know and what we are doing.

“Remember those bones found down south?”

“Of course I do. I told you I didn’t think they were illegals, with their teeth knocked out.”

“Italian mob.”

“And you know this, how?”

“Give me some credit, Cassidy. It was the Italian mob. My problem and not yours.

“Go home. Get cleaned up. I want you back in my office in three hours and I want you to tell me what thorn is up your sorry ass, and why.”

“
Why
. A good choice of words. Why? You fired that ass of mine.”

“Because you’re my friend and for some crazy reason I trust your weird instincts. But heed my words. Stay away from Vickery. Tread lightly. Maybe you can get your geek, Schlep, in on this, from a distance called the internet.”

“Chief. It appears I don’t have a ride home. I don’t suppose—”

“Get in my car. I’ll be there in five minutes.” He tossed me the keys to his tell-all cop car Ford.

Five minutes gave me time to call Tracy.

“Are you okay?”

“Only vomited once in your wretched idea of a vehicle, and I didn’t even feel bad about it.”

“I’m so sorry. I need to tell you what went down. It wasn’t so bad.”

“I already know what happened.”

“How?”
“There’s a new crime scene reporter in town and at our station. Seems he’s already working a story. He gave me the head’s up.”

“You mean he’s investigating Sandra Vickery?”

“No. He’s investigating you. And you need to come and collect this heap of a van in my driveway. My HOA will go friggin’ nuts. And you owe me. Find Daddy Michael Scores.”

Some had given up.

On ever finding their loved ones.

On me. On the judicial system.

We were now mostly a gathering of seven, that included the bubbly and crazy and outrageously dressed Mandy Palmer, the employee of the missing interior designer.

The mostly absent husband of the designer, who had originally rallied for my retainer fee, morphed into something else. Madness. Anger. Distrust. Boiling blood. He hated me, and as much as I appreciated his ongoing presence, I didn’t much care for him.

One man in our shrinking group said, “No one has gone missing for a while. That’s what the press tells us. Does this mean he left? Did he die? Did he leave our loved ones alive in some dungeon to rot?”

I had nothing of an intelligent reply. Nothing. I could only look at them in their eyes and promise, with my own soul, to convey to them that this wasn’t over until their loved ones were found.

More demands. “What do you have?”

“I can tell you that you do not what to jeopardize this investigation. I can tell you that I believe I am on the right path.”

Another one. “Bullshit.”

Another. “Don’t keep us in the dark. We thought you were family.”

“Look at me. Find the light in my eyes. I am here for you and I am close. Believe in me.”

“You’re all I have,” said a tearful mother.

“But we know you’re a psychic. Damn, woman.”

“No, sir, I am not a psychic. I just seem to receive incredible hunches. Instincts, if you will. But those gut feelings wrench at my very being, and I have them now. Hang with me.”

A father. “You’re all we have.”

A friend of a victim. “I’ll find out what the hell you know and I’ll kill that sunovabitch.”

“You can think that, sir, but God help you if you act on it. If that SOB is still alive, don’t you think that might be our only hope toward finding all of your loved ones?”

Mandy spoke up. Outrageous and now timid. “I’m sorry, but violence is not the path.”

I said, “I’ll leave you to talk, as you wish, amongst yourselves. I have work to do. I’ll see you online, every day”

“And I’m hiring an investigator to investigate you,” the now asshole husband, in my mind, of the interior designer said.

“Been done, so I’ve heard. Go ahead. But for the sake of this group, I hope you take your animosity home with you and leave it there. We all have work to do, but with an earnest love for justice in our hearts. Not a vengeance.”

A platonic friendship, without the benefits, Schlep wasn’t sure he was ready for the next step, and he knew Carson wasn’t there yet.

They took turns reading passages from favorite books. Carson would read from Eckhart Tolle, Rhonda Byrne, and when she felt brave she took on Deepak Chopra. Schlep chose the old masters. Plato. Socrates. Aristotle. And when he felt safe enough to drift out of his comfort zone he spoke the words of Henry David Thoreau. But he never read. He recited.

One night Schlep brought over his Trivial Pursuit game board. As Schlep left Carson shoved the game into Schlep’s hands and told him she would never play with him again unless they were partners.

This night, after the children were tucked in to bed, Carson told Schlep that she needed more hours.