Mystery: The Card Counter: (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Thriller Mystery) (10 page)

“No problem,” Tina agreed. “But on one condition.”

I paused for a moment. “What is it?”

“Dinner. Tomorrow,” she answered.

It was a curveball I hadn’t been expecting. Tina was actually asking me out on a date. Part of me thought that she was offering just to pump me for more information, but another part of me noted that for the past few months she’d been rather nice to me, as opposed to her scathing reports of other detectives in my station.

After pondering her request for a few moments, it occurred to me that since she was being nice to me and even offering to help, it deserved a little kindness on my part. “Okay. Text me with a time and place that’s good for you and I’ll make the time to be there, assuming the case allows for it.  If not, rain check for as soon as this is done.”

Tina’s face lit up with genuine surprise. She was obviously expecting to be brushed off, and was delighted that I took her up on the offer. “Great. It’s a date!”

Aware that I needed some privacy when I approached the victim’s next of kin, Tina returned to her news crew, who were still taping footage of cops coming in and out of the crime scene. Tina was obviously an attractive woman, as most news women were. It was just hard to have close relations with the press, considering the sensitive information that I often dealt with, so I wasn’t sure this was a particularly good idea.  Still, if I managed to close this case, nobody would care who I ended up being seen with, press-wise.

Having secrets while dating someone whose job was to expose those secrets to the mass media was not a relationship that was bound to work. But considering the fact that Tina wanted to help me, the least I could do was break bread with her to keep our relations in good terms.

The last thing I wanted to do was to seem like an ingrate, not considering what she had already done to assist my investigation. Seemed like the polite thing to do for now. If I had to, I would resort to talking about my kids and the divorce for an hour or so, and that usually got most women to run for the hills and never want to come back.

As I approached the house that the victim’s wallet had listed as his address, I took a deep breath and walked slowly to the door, and then gently knocked. I paused, waited, and had to knock a second time; this time a little louder to announce that there really was someone at the door. Out of sheer habit, I took my badge out and held it up as the door began to open. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m Detective˗”

“Jake?” a voice called out.

I had turned my head away from the door to make sure that Tina and her crew didn’t follow me to the house, and when I heard my name, I whipped my head back to see who had recognized me. When I looked back at the person standing at the door, I was suddenly looking at the short bright red hair that barely reached her shoulders. The same blue eyes that I looked into whenever I went shopping after work. Suddenly, it was my turn to be surprised.

“Courtenay?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I had no idea you lived here.” Which wasn’t a lie, at least, as I wasn’t the stalking type. I had had no idea where Courtenay lived, let alone what her last name was. “I’m sorry, but does Jerry MacDonald live here?”

“Yes,” she answered. I could see she was starting to cry. She knew what I did for a living now, and had realized I was on the job. I wouldn’t be knocking on her door unless something terrible had happened.

“What’s your relation to him?” I asked as gently as I could.

“He’s my husband,” Courtenay answered.

“Can we speak in private?” I asked.

“Come in.” She stepped aside and invited me in with a wave of her hand.

This was going to be awkward, but it had to be done. I was there to do a job and I had to put my personal feelings aside. I took a deep breath and then stepped inside to speak with the wife of my latest victim.

As I stepped inside, I couldn’t help but notice how clean and amazing her place looked. For someone who worked at a bakery, it was easy to tell that her husband was the breadwinner of her family. Speaking of family, I didn’t hear any kids running around. I turned back to Courtenay, who was still on the verge of breaking down. “Do you have any kids here?” I was trying to be as sensitive as possible.

“No,” she answered. “We have one son, but he moved out two years ago.”

“Alright,” I confirmed as I turned to face her. I didn’t want any kids hearing what I had to say. I’d made that mistake before and it wasn’t a pretty scene. Part of me wanted to be there for Courtenay in her time of need, while another part of me thought that it was very unprofessional to be thinking about something like that when she was going to be given such tragic news. I had to remain professional. There was an awkward silence between us, kind of like the pauses we had when talking at the grocery store. She then smiled between the tears. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Usually when we talk, I’m the one who is on the job.” She answered and she was right. “You never ordered that cake yet.”

“I’ve been rather busy the last few days,” I admitted.

“I know you’re a detective,” Courtenay said. “But what division do you happen to work for?”

I paused for a moment. This answer was going to open the flood gates and all hell was about to break loose. “Homicide.”

She had suspected that was the answer, but deep down I could tell she was hoping I would give a different answer. She burst like a dam and started crying uncontrollably. She almost fainted, but I reached out and caught her, then moved her into the living room so she could sit down on the couch. Part of me just wanted to take her in my arms and hold her but another part of me fought hard to remain professional and do my job. Courtenay was beside herself but understood what was going on. “When did this happen?”

“We only discovered him a short while ago,” I answered. “I need to ask you some important questions. It’s important we do this now. It assists us a great deal in trying to catch whoever is responsible for your husband’s untimely death.”

Courtenay closed her eyes upon hearing the word ‘death’, but it turned out she was a strong woman, something I’d suspected about her from our earlier encounters. She took a deep breath and nodded. “All right, I’ll do what I can to help.”

“I appreciate that,” I told her as I moved to one of the chairs facing the couch. I sat on the edge and tried not to make myself too comfortable. The last thing I wanted to do was seem casual in the face of a situation which was anything but casual for her. The world as she knew it was changing and would never be the same.

Even though I felt sorry for her, a part of me was selfishly worried about how this encounter would affect our relationship, which to this point was nothing more than friends. I might be forever known as the man who showed up at her door to tell her that her husband was dead, an image that would forever submerge my own feelings if we were to ever talk again after this day. I let the thought pass and tried my best to stay in the moment and focus on what I was really there for. I had a job to do, which was to gain information that could connect this killing to the others. “What did your husband do for a living?”

“He was vice president of a local bank.”

Damn, I thought to myself. No shortage of enemies there. “Did he have anyone that wanted to hurt him?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Courtenay asked. “He’s a banker. Everyone in the state and the country wanted him dead. He’s an honest person, but the crooks in his industry have caused everyone to be painted with the same brush by the public. He couldn’t go jogging during the day because people would yell at him and even spit on him. They were very cruel to him.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that. Did you file any reports with the police?”

“I wanted to,” Courtenay confessed. “But Jerry didn’t want to cause any more trouble or attract attention to us.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I said in agreement. Jerry was smart not to press charges for small offenses like that. It would have brought on more trouble and angry people, especially if the press reported the story. “He was cautious. That would explain why he was in his jogging clothes when we found him.”

“Someone attacked him when he was jogging?” she asked.

“It looks like it, yes. When did he leave the house?”

“I’m not sure. I left the house before he did.”

“When did you leave?”

“Around 1:00 p.m. in the afternoon, so he could have left any time after that.”

“All right, that’s good,” I said as I wrote down the relevant information. As I looked around the room, I couldn’t help but notice some trophies and sports memorabilia in the next room. “If you don’t mind me asking, was your husband a big football fan?”

“Oh, yes,” Courtenay answered as she looked over at the stuff I had noticed. “He was more of a college football fan than a pro-football man.”

“I like the college game more, too,” I admitted, just to stay on her side. “Does your son play football?”

“Oh, yes!” Courtenay answered. “He’s a member of the state team.”

There it was: the link that I was looking for. I tried my best not to show any panic on my face and merely smiled while pulling out my cell phone. “Where is your son right now?”

“He’s on campus, if I’m not mistaken,” she answered. Chances are Jerry hadn’t told his wife about the move to the hotel her son and the players had made, just to make sure she didn’t panic, assuming he’d even heard. I would have done the same thing if I were in his shoes.

“What’s his name?”

“Colin,” she answered.

“Thanks,” I said as I did my best to keep smiling. I sent out a text message to Flo to make sure we were talking about the same state team.

Colin MacDonald. Is he one of the players holed up over there with you?

As I waited for Flo to text back, I asked some other questions just to change the subject and sway her away from the subject of football, and where I’d been going with my previous questions. It took an additional five minutes, but the text message came back from Flo to confirm my suspicions:

Yes, he’s a member of our team here. Is everything alright?

It wasn’t alright, and I needed to leave immediately. Courtenay stood up with me as I got up to leave. “I think that’s more than enough information to go with for now. Thank you for taking a moment to help me in such trying times.”

“You’re welcome,” she answered, not sure what to do next.

“Do you have anywhere you can stay for the next night or two?” I then asked. I didn’t think she was in danger, but at the moment I really couldn’t take the chance, not considering her husband was just targeted.

“I do,” Courtenay replied. “You don’t think I’m safe here?”

“My gut says you are, but I don’t want you to take that chance.”

“I’ll pack my things and go visit my sister.”

“Do it. I’ll stay down here and stand guard while you get ready.”

Courtenay ran up the stairs and I could hear her quickly packing a few bags. I shouted up to her a few times just to make sure she was okay and nothing was going on up there. I’d walk her to the car and she’d take off from there. I watched as she came back down the stairs with two small bags, packed and ready to go. She didn’t waste much time, packing only the essentials. “How long should I stay there?” she asked as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“At least two days,” I suggested.

“How will I know when it’s safe to come back?”

“Here’s my card, you can call and I’ll let you know if it’s safe.” I reached into my coat and pulled out my card. I scribbled a number on the back. “That’s my cell number. Call anytime and I’ll be happy to answer any questions or update you on the course of the investigation.”

I handed her the card. Not exactly the circumstances I’d wanted to be in when giving her my phone number, but this wasn’t a good time to be thinking about that. Before I could walk to the door, Courtenay reached out to me and gave me a big hug.

Out of sheer instinct and deep hidden desire, I reached out and embraced her. Feeling her in my arms was everything I’d thought it would be. I even took the time to smell her hair and it had a scent I’d never smelled before. This was something I had dreamed of for the better part of a year, but part of me felt like a total creep who was taking advantage of this poor woman in her most vulnerable state. I didn’t want to let go of her, but when I felt her grip loosen up, I did the same. From there I opened the door and walked her out to her car. Once she had her bags tossed into the trunk, I opened the front door for her.

“Thank you, Jake,” Courtenay said as she hopped into the seat.

I closed the door behind her. “I’ll be around if you need me,” I said to her. “Take care of yourself and be careful.”

“I will,” Courtenay said. 

I didn’t say anything else and backed up a few steps. I watched as she pulled out of the driveway and drove away. Once Courtenay was out of sight, I walked back down the street towards the crime scene. I also jumped on my cell and contacted Flo, who I was sure was eager to know more about what was going on. “Flo, we’ve got a connection between the new victim and the team.”

“I assume he’s connected to this MacDonald player?” she asked.

“Related is more like it,” I answered. “The victim is his father. Without access to the team, the killer is attacking their family members.”

“Son of a bitch,” Flo cursed from the other side. “We’re going to have a hard time keeping people here if their families are being attacked.”

“We also don’t have enough cops to protect everyone’s loved ones, either.”

“What the hell do we do?” Flo asked.

“Without causing a panic, get the players and coaches to contact their families and get them to crash somewhere else tonight, whether with an in-law or a close friend. Anywhere but home would be good, and don’t bother talking to MacDonald. I already convinced his mother to crash with her sister.”

“I’ll do my best,” Flo replied. “I’ll get to it right now. I’ll do it one player at a time to avoid panic. I’ll speak to them in their rooms.”

“Good call,” I agreed with her. “Give me a call if you need any help. I’m sure Colin’s mom is already contacting him, but you might have to ask him to keep the news to himself, or make arrangements to get him to his mother.” After disconnecting the line, I kept walking towards the crime scene, hoping Captain Bancroft was still there. He wasn’t, though, and neither was the press, which was for the best. The next logical thing to do was to head back to the station. Collins and his people were inbound and the sooner we started connecting the dots, the sooner we could get back on the killer’s trail and bring that sick bastard in. The thought of heading home to get some sleep was a distant idea. I still had work to do.