Charlie’s Auto Body and Repair was still closed. Juliet sat in the passenger seat of Celeste’s squad car, sipping coffee. She was exhausted from lack of sleep and an overabundance of emotions and…other feelings from the previous night.
“I’m so confused,” Celeste said, twirling the straw in her iced coffee. “You decided that the whole thing would be a disaster and then you kissed her?”
“I didn’t say it was my finest moment.” Juliet kept her eyes closed as she rested her head against the window. She regretted the contradiction of telling Sienna one thing and then doing the complete opposite…although, she didn’t regret it as much as she probably should. “You can’t say a word. Not even to Brooke. The whole thing is just so fucked up. I was in their house. He came looking for me to see if I was okay, for fuck’s sake. I’m a terrible person.”
“Oh, stop. It was a one-time thing, right? It happens. People are attracted to each other and it happens. Don’t beat yourself up too much.” Celeste checked her watch. The garage was set to open in ten minutes.
“Two-time thing. But I get your point.”
“Wait, two?”
“The night of the storm. It was one of those panicky situations where we thought we were going to die.” Juliet focused on a dusty tire outside.
“Oh, that makes sense. Except for the part where you already told me how it all went down, and your life was never in actual danger. Although apparently you left out one really big piece of the story.”
“I’m conflicted. You’re not helping.” She rubbed her temples vigorously. “We should probably just not see each other for a while. I like her a lot, Celeste. More than I’ve liked anyone for a really long time.”
Celeste nodded. “That forbidden thing always amps it up a little. What about Kellie? Maybe you could take it to the next level with her.”
Juliet frowned. “It’s not a swap meet. It’s not like I’m going to trade one for the other. I like Kellie, but the connection we have is just…different. We enjoy our time together, but it never means anything. It’s more physical and fleeting.”
“As opposed to the physical and fleeting connection you have with Sienna?” Celeste asked.
Juliet sighed. “Physical, yes. Fleeting, no. I haven’t stopped fucking thinking about her since that stupid road trip to New Hampshire. It wasn’t as strong in the beginning, because I had no idea she would ever feel the same, but she’s been there ever since. Like a little ghost that fades in and out depending on the background. It’s pretty ridiculous, huh?”
“There he is.” Celeste pointed to a hulking man with a graying ponytail and scruffy beard kick a rock out of his path and unlock the door to the garage.
“Let’s roll,” Juliet said, adjusting her radio and tucking her hat under her arm. The sky was cloudy and the chill that had settled in after the tornado remained. She’d worn her long-sleeved uniform and still felt goose bumps on her arms.
They walked into the dirty waiting room where an ancient cash register sat on a counter. A calendar with a barely dressed woman announced the month from the grease-stained wall. It didn’t look like a business Kowalski would have attached himself to. “Good morning. I’m Lieutenant Mitchell and this is Officer Jeffries. Are you Charles Goodman?”
“How can I help you?” Goodman leaned back against the counter and crossed his beefy arms, his eyes narrowed.
Juliet’s hackles went up. “We just wanted to ask you a few questions about Richard Kowalski.”
“What about him? You girls knew him?”
Juliet cast a side glance toward Celeste, whose expression probably mirrored her own. Condescension wasn’t new to them, but it still riled them up.
“Can you please tell us about your relationship with Mr. Kowalski? The last time you saw him, how your business arrangement ended, etc.?” Juliet asked.
Goodman threw a handful of peanuts into his mouth. “He was a prick. We had a deal and he backed out. Other than that, loved the guy. Will that be all, ladies?”
“Please answer the rest of the lieutenant’s questions, sir.” Celeste adjusted her holster, a microaggression Goodman seemed to notice.
“Well,” he said, scratching his beard, “Kowalski hasn’t been by here in a long time. Maybe a year. Probably more. He was a coward, plain and simple. Didn’t want to face me. I needed a little start-up cash, which we agreed to split the profits on. He didn’t have a whole lot of money, and neither did I, but we both loved cars. So we gave it a shot. Business was doing pretty well, and Kowalski was making a decent side living. He didn’t want to give up his library job, although I don’t know why any grown man would waste his time on books. I wanted to expand the business, and he freaked out. Wanted his money back and said that was the end of our partnership. Hell if I know why.” Goodman shrugged and popped a few more peanuts into his mouth.
“What did the business expansion entail?” Juliet asked while Celeste took notes.
“Somebody I know wanted in on it, and it was one of those deals that I’d have been stupid to turn down. A guy I knew. Kowalski didn’t want to let anybody else in on our two-man gig. Maybe he was jealous,” Goodman said, wagging his eyebrows.
Juliet tried not to gag.
“So, you didn’t move forward with the ‘guy’?” Celeste asked, leaning forward into the word.
“Of course I did, I’m not an idiot. But Kowalski was out after that and he didn’t explain why. Not my problem. I got the money I needed to expand and Rich the coward got his back.”
“Who is the guy you’ve gone into business with?”
“Uh…Morris Bright. Cell phone number’s shut off though. I’m sure he’ll be by again soon, and I’ll tell him to hop on over to the police station and look you gals up.”
“Do you have an address for him? Or a workplace? Some way for us to get in touch with him?” Celeste asked.
“Nope. When we have business to take care of, he comes to me.”
Juliet nearly rolled her eyes. As if he had a partner he couldn’t contact. “Did Kowalski have any direct dealings with Mr. Bright?” Juliet asked.
“No, he took off before we had set up anything concrete. I just wanted him to look over some paperwork, calculate a few figures. He wouldn’t even do that. He was kind of a pussy.”
Juliet nodded, trying not to show her disdain. “Could we take a look at your accounting records?”
Goodman shifted uncomfortably. “For what?”
“We’re just trying to fill in the missing pieces. Maybe the income generated from your business after Mr. Kowalski left compared to what was generated before he left could provide some valuable info. We’d also like to see a list of the cars that have been worked on over the last few weeks. Do you have a software program that keeps track of that for you?” Juliet asked.
“Nope.”
“You must have records available in order to keep tabs on your customers and to file your taxes, Mr. Goodman.”
Goodman uncrossed his arms and leaned on the counter. “I think we’re done here, ladies. I don’t have to show you shit.”
Juliet smiled and looked down at the counter. A take-a-penny-leave-a-penny tray sat empty except for a twisted paper clip. “Yet.”
They turned and walked out of the building, Juliet following behind Celeste. She decided to ignore the choice words Goodman was mumbling just loud enough for Juliet to hear.
“You think we have enough to get a warrant for his business records?” Celeste slid behind the wheel again.
“Definitely not. But he answered my question. Obviously, this business partner thing wasn’t above board. Kowalski clearly didn’t want anything to do with the new guy or what he was offering. There’s more to it than Goodman is letting on. We need to look up Morris Bright when we get back to the station.” She put on her sunglasses and glanced at a number of broken-down cars and trucks that littered the landscape. Not a red one in sight.
* * *
Before heading back to the station, Juliet asked Celeste to detour by her house. The roofing crew was there, which made Juliet breathe a sigh of relief. She didn’t think they’d need more than a couple of days to finish it up. Will calling their old college buddy and having them get to work so quickly was truly a godsend. The sooner she could be out of their house, the better, since she clearly had no sense of self-restraint.
They arrived at the station at the same time the glass in the doorway was being replaced. Juliet marveled at how things were being put back together, and soon it would look as though nothing had ever happened. Certainly not a momentous natural disaster. Sitting on Juliet’s desk was a small white envelope with Lt. Mitchell scrawled across the front in messy black pen. She picked it up and turned it over, but there was no return address. Inside was a card-stock invitation to an impromptu benefit being held by the Salt Creek Fire Department for the affected citizens of the Shell Creek tornado. For the following night. Juliet sighed heavily and tossed it into her “in” box.
“You have to go, you know,” Chief Quinlan said, standing in the doorway of her office. “They’re trying to do something nice.”
“I get that, but tomorrow night? Some notice would have been appreciated. You know I hate these things.”
Quinlan shrugged. “They were going to do a fund me page or whatever the hell that thing is called, but the captain thought they’d raise more money if people could put faces to the stories that have been all over the news. I wouldn’t mind helping the Java Room rebuild a little quicker. This swill tastes like dirt.” He peered ruefully into his coffee cup.
“I just have a lot going on right now, with the house, and with Declan, and all of that. Not sure I’m in the mood for a party,” Juliet said.
Quinlan narrowed his eyes at her. “Showing your face around the community is important, Lieutenant. Not that you need me to tell you that.”
Juliet smiled tightly. “No, I don’t need you to tell me that. You’re right, sir. I’ll be there, of course.”
“I knew you would be. Make sure Jeffries and Leland show up too. I’ll talk to Deagle. Between what happened to the Kowalskis and the damned twister, we could use a little levity around here.”
“Will do.”
Quinlan walked out of her office, leaving the door slightly ajar. Juliet booted up her laptop and searched the database for Morris Bright. The only hit in a fifty-mile radius was a Morris Brightman, and he was a ninety-three-year-old retiree in palliative care. Didn’t seem to fit the profile of the criminal mastermind Juliet assumed she was looking for. Mo Bright, Moe Bright, and every other obvious combination of the name turned up nothing. So, either this guy had concealed his true identity or Charlie Goodman was lying. Neither scenario was out of the realm of possibility.
“Dammit, Rich,” Juliet said, out loud and alone in her office. “You couldn’t have just had a beer at home? I’m sure Gretchen would have been fine with one beer.”
Celeste plowed through Juliet’s open door with a piece of paper fresh off the printer dangling from her hand. “That print on the whiskey bottle ended up being too smudged. They couldn’t identify a match.”
“Of course they couldn’t. Goddam it, we can’t catch a break. It has to be Tara Wolfe’s. Either she poisoned him or drank with him. She knew about the bottle, so there’s a distinct possibility she could have moved it, picked it up, cradled it for all I know. Maybe she was just really careful.” Juliet leaned back in her chair. She was frustrated beyond belief, in pretty much every area of her life at the moment. “I’ll talk to her again. Oh, hey, you have to go to this thing,” she said, pointing to the invitation without looking up.