“I still think it’s a crock.”
Nick flopped down on Kim’s couch and grabbed the glass of iced tea he’d left on the coffee table before they went to explore the attic and the thirty-five years of accumulated junk stored in it. He finished off the tea before he looked at where Jazz was tapping the living room walls. “Stop it, Nancy Drew! We’ve looked everywhere. There’s no way there’s some sort of treasure hidden here.”
“Yeah.” Jazz tossed a look over her shoulder at him. “I know. You’ve told me that about a hundred times since we got here.”
Nick crunched an ice cube. “Lisa Raab was lying.”
“I don’t think so.” Jazz didn’t even bother to move the clothes piled on the room’s only chair. She plopped right down on top of them. She was hot. She was tired. She was close to being discouraged. Still, she couldn’t help but think of the desperation in Lisa’s eyes the night before when she’d told her the story of her dad and Dan and the missing, stolen coins. “She was too scared to lie,” she told Nick.
He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Well, then maybe her dad lied to her. Maybe he made up the whole story about the coins. Maybe he didn’t see Dan as an ideal match for his only child. Once he found out Dan and Lisa were involved, maybe making up the story about how Dan double-crossed him was Raab’s way of breaking them up. Raab wanted to show Lisa what a rat Dan was.”
“He was a rat. And he proved that all by himself, didn’t he?” Jazz finished off her own iced tea and dragged herself off the chair. As long as she was getting more tea out of the fridge for herself, she grabbed Nick’s glass on the way by. “You know…” In the kitchen, she raised her voice so Nick could still hear her. At the same time she asked herself if she really wanted more tea or if she was hiding out in the kitchen because she didn’t want to say what she had to say to Nick’s face. “Lisa has a son.”
Nick’s response was total silence.
Jazz added ice to their glasses, poured the tea, delivered it. “Did you hear me?”
Nick took a long drink. “I did. And I don’t know what that has to do with this crazy story about missing coins.”
“Nothing. Because Tyler, he’s too young to know anything about what might have happened when Dan Mansfield killed his grandfather. In fact, he wasn’t even born yet.”
“So?”
“So I think Lisa’s been holding back on us. I think…” Jazz remembered the last time she’d dared to mention bloodlines but went ahead anyway. Sometimes, things needed to be said. Even if they were uncomfortable. “I think Dan Mansfield was Tyler’s father.”
“And mine.” When he looked up to where she still stood next to the couch, Nick’s expression was unreadable. “You’re creating this whole fantasy love life for this scumbag. Why?”
Jazz had been over it a thousand times in her mind. She was ready with her answer. “Because it fits. Because it makes sense. Lisa says she fell in love with Dan. She said they were sleeping together. And—” When Nick opened his mouth to say something, Jazz cut him off, her voice firm. “And because while I think that sure, Dan and Joshua Raab might have met at the Twilight Tavern that night to talk about the stolen coins, from what I’ve heard there was a whole lot more going on than just talk about business. Even shady business. There was real passion in their argument. Not just anger, but rage. On both sides. Dan Mansfield’s came from the fact that he was just a mean, awful person. But Joshua Raab, this well-respected, refined gentleman? There’s only one thing that can cause that sort of deep-down, protective instinct to rise to the surface so fast and so violently.”
“You mean like someone criticizing Wally in your presence?”
Jazz made a face at him. “Family.”
“You’re the one who’s always preaching the blessings of family.”
“I don’t preach.”
He drew in a breath. “All right, you don’t preach. But you do say—”
“Family is the most important thing there is. Because it’s true.”
“Which means—”
“It means if the subject of Lisa came up, Joshua would have been more than ready to go toe-to-toe with Mansfield. Mansfield was not a nice person.”
“Given.”
“Which means I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he dropped the bombshell about Lisa being pregnant just to get a rise out of Joshua.”
“It makes sense. Sort of,” he added quickly, afraid of Jazz’s I told you so. “But if it was true…”
She watched him, waiting for the pieces to clunk into place. “If what you think about Kim and Mansfield … if he’s actually my … and if it’s true about Lisa.” He sat back. Shuffled his feet. Blinked, as if doing that would help him see more clearly.
“How would you feel about that?” Jazz wanted to know.
His lips clamped tight, his brows low over his eyes, Nick considered everything she’d said, and Jazz knew when he made up his mind because he slapped a hand on his knee.
“Like it isn’t possible.” Nick sounded so sure, he nearly convinced Jazz. He pushed off the couch and headed into the kitchen as quickly as he changed the subject. “We’re not getting anything accomplished here, and…” He checked the time on his phone. “I’ve got to get going. I’m supposed to meet Isaiah at five.”
“The kid who punched you?” The bruise on Nick’s face was nearly gone, the raw skin nearly healed, but Jazz couldn’t help but touch a tender finger to his cheek. “You and Isaiah, you’re going to talk about those arson jobs his brother was involved with?”
“Not tonight. Last time I saw him, I talked to Isaiah about getting him on a baseball team over at the rec center, so tonight, the plan is burgers and talking sports.” He opened the back door and held it so Jazz could step onto the porch ahead of him. “Maybe someday he’ll trust me enough to tell me more about his brother. For now, this is good enough.” Nick turned to lock the door behind them and hesitated, his key in the lock. “What if she doesn’t have a key with her? If she shows up and she can’t get in the house—”
The worry in his voice broke Jazz’s heart. She wrapped her right arm around his waist. “If Kim gets home and she can’t get in, she’ll know to go over to Julio’s.”
“Yeah, but if Julio’s not home—”
“I talked to him. Kim’s key is hanging right inside his back door. If he’s not there, his girlfriend will be. He works days; she works nights. One of them is usually home. Although now that you mention it, if Lisa’s not trying to get into the house anymore, it probably wouldn’t hurt just to leave the door unlocked.”
“Nah.” The moment passed and Nick sounded more like himself again. He turned the key. “What kind of cop would I be if I didn’t advise people to lock their doors when they’re out?”
He threw the key in the air, caught it in one hand, and tucked it in his pocket. Once they were out on the walk and Jazz was ahead of him, he stopped her, a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks,” he said.
“For wasting our day on a treasure hunt?” Jazz laughed and turned to him. She couldn’t help glancing past him and toward the house again, too. “Maybe we just haven’t looked everywhere.”
“We have looked everywhere! Even in all that old junk Kim has stored up in the attic. If Mansfield hid something in the house, we would have found it.”
“We could try again.”
He didn’t jump on the suggestion. Instead, he folded her into his arms and kissed her.
They’d been away from each other too much and she missed simple things like standing outside on a warm evening and just allowing herself to get lost in the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth against hers, the quick flick of his tongue on her lips.
When the kiss ended, he smiled down at her. “We’ll talk about it. That doesn’t mean I’m buying into your treasure theory. For now, I’ve got to go. I’ve got just enough time to get over to where I told Isaiah I’d meet him and—” His phone rang.
Nick pulled the phone from his pocket, looked at the caller ID, and groaned. He answered, “Kolesov.… Yeah. And it has to be now?… Yeah. Sure. Give me fifteen minutes.” When the call ended, he grumbled, “Work. I hate for Isaiah to think I forgot about him.”
“You didn’t forget.” Jazz started down the driveway. “I’ll go meet Isaiah and tell him you had an emergency. You said burgers and sports talk, right? I can do burgers and sports talk. I’m the perfect replacement.”
“I can’t ask you to—”
She kissed his cheek. “You didn’t ask me. I volunteered.”
“Isaiah is a nice kid.” Nick showed up at Jazz’s on Sunday evening and brought chicken and waffles. He cut up her food and she took a bite. “I’m glad I had a chance to meet him.”
Nick dug into his own dinner. “I’m grateful you filled in for me. Did you tell him—”
“That you’d give him a call? Yeah. I bet he’s looking forward to it.”
Nick cut up a chicken leg and Jazz pretended not to notice when he slipped Wally a piece. “Nice to know someone’s looking forward to talking to me,” he grumbled.
“Yeah. Kim.” Jazz pushed the food around her plate.
“Even when she’s on a bender, she’s never gone this long,” Nick told her. “Eventually, she sobers up. Eventually, she comes home.”
“Maybe she’s already—”
“Stopped and checked on my way over here,” he said. “No sign of her. But…” He glanced at her. “I’m not saying you forgot or anything, but you did lock up last time you were there, right?”
“You locked up.” Just for emphasis, she boffed him on the arm; then realizing what he was saying, she sat up. “Yesterday, when we were done looking through the house. Remember? And you’re saying today the door was open?”
“No, it was locked, all right. I just got a feeling.…” He was logical, professional. He didn’t have the luxury of relying on feelings. “I don’t know, I just thought maybe someone had been there after we left.”
“It couldn’t have been Lisa,” Jazz insisted. “She swore she wasn’t going to—”
“She’s either a liar or—”
“Someone else.” Jazz let the thought settle. “But who? Why?”
“Who else could know the coins might be there?”
“Gerchek? Burke?”
“Maybe. It all sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? Until you try to fill in the blanks. Burke was in prison at the time of the murder, so that pretty much clears him, but he’s got plenty of connections on the outside and somebody could have done it for him. And Gerchek, there was no love lost between Gerchek and Mansfield. If he didn’t do it himself, I have no doubt he could have ordered the hit. Lisa Raab admits she followed Mansfield but says she didn’t kill him. So who could have strangled him?”
“Was he? Strangled?” Jazz thought through everything she’d read about the case. “No one ever said.”
“It was one of the details we wanted to keep away from the media. We’d hoped it might help somewhere down the line. The way it’s looking…” He sighed. “Nothing’s helping.”
“That pretty much proves it once and for all, Kim didn’t kill Mansfield. No way she could have overpowered him.”
“The same probably goes for Lisa Raab, though I don’t know.…” He put a hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. “Some women are pretty tough.”
“Yeah, well, my money’s on Gerchek. And yes, I know.” Because it looked like he was going to say something and because she knew exactly what that something was, Jazz held up a hand. “Don’t go near him. Don’t talk to him. He’s a creep. But if he knows something about what happened to Mansfield, it would help us, Nick, because I’m convinced once we find out who killed him, we’ll know where Kim is.”
His eyes clouded. “She’s not answering her phone. She’s not hanging at the Little Bit. And this crazy story about her staying with a friend…” He shook his head, gave her a kiss and Wally a pat. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll talk to you later.”
She was off the couch as soon as he pulled his car out of the driveway and talking to Wally while she tucked him in his crate. “I’ve been thinking, buddy, about what Ted over at the Little Bit said. He called her Skinny Kim. Did I tell you that?” Still talking, she went upstairs to change into jeans and a dark sweatshirt. “You know, I’ve heard one other person call her Skinny Kim!” she called down to Wally. “And I’m thinking, only someone who knew her well would use that sort of nickname. Only a friend.”
By the time she got there, it was already dark and Jazz thought the motorcycle shop would be closed, but there were four motorcycles parked near the front door of Marcus Gerchek’s place and light spilled out the back from the open overhead door of the work bays.
Not closed.
Or at least, not empty.
She parked a block away and walked back. Keeping to the shadows, she skirted the side of the building and stopped just where the corner of the building met the open back door.
Marcus Gerchek and four other men were inside, standing in a circle around a monster of a motorcycle. The skunky smell in the air told her they were smoking pot, and there was an open case of beer nearby.
“Don’t think so,” one of the guys said. He was short and thin, his spindly legs sticking out of cargo shorts, his hair buzz cut. “Ain’t going to work.”
“Not if you don’t get your shit together.” Gerchek was over on the right. Just like the last time she’d seen him, he was wearing black leather, his long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, his arms bare. He finished a beer, crushed the can in one hand, and tossed it into a pail. “Everybody’s in. Everybody cooperates. You got that, Mort?”
Mort apparently got it. Instead of taking the chance of voicing another objection, he got another beer.
The men lowered their voices, their conversation an indistinct buzz, and Jazz took the risk of peeking around the service bays. Last time she’d been there, she’d come in through the showroom and hadn’t seen the stairway over on the left wall.
An upstairs.
A place to stash a friend looking for somewhere to hide.
Before she dared to move, she darted another look at the men. They were busy talking and sure they hadn’t seen her, she backed up into a black-topped yard dotted with cinder blocks, scraps of metal, old tires.
There were three windows upstairs, one of them open. No lights on.
She pulled out her phone, hit Kim’s number.
And didn’t hear a ring from inside.
Disappointed she wasn’t able to put the pieces together and finally put an end to the speculation and worry, she’d just turned to leave the yard when she heard a burst of laughter from inside, along with Gerchek’s voice. She heard the word prison.
And something about cops.
Or was the word coins?
Eager to find out, she snaked back toward the door. Whatever was going on, whatever they were talking about, she was just in time to see Gerchek throw back his head and roar out a laugh. There was something in his hand, something metallic, and he tossed it in the air and caught it.
Jazz got only a quick glimpse, but she would have recognized it anywhere.
A small tool. Part wrench. Part screwdriver.
Four short arms joined at the center in the shape of an x.