Despite my desire to spend every waking moment pursuing Ollie’s murderer, I had a day job I couldn’t ignore. Especially with the wedding coming up. And a week on a Caribbean cruise after that.
Calypso was a true talent. In the fifteen months we’d worked together, she’d grown from a green assistant who didn’t know the difference between first- and third-person point of view to a sharp associate agent who was on the verge of signing her first client.
She still had a lot to learn about the business, though. And was going to have a lot on her plate covering for me while I was unavailable. Which made our weekly meetings more important than ever.
“Even though being off yesterday makes it a short workweek, I still want to get royalty statements and payments to clients on Friday. That’s top priority, okay?”
“What?” Calypso looked up from her tablet. Her eyes were glazed over. “Right. Royalties. Um, sure, shouldn’t be problem.”
“Shouldn’t be?” There was an edge to my voice that I used about as often as I did tequila shots. Once a year. And only on Sloane’s birthday. Because she insisted and I would never let my bestie down on her birthday.
My icy tone must have caught Calypso’s attention because she shook her head and sat up straighter.
“Won’t be.” She blew out a breath. “Sorry. It was crazy busy at the Pub last night and all anyone was talking about was the shooting. Then, when I got home, I started doom scrolling and didn’t get much sleep.”
I had a billion and one things to do. This was one of those times when what I wanted to do and what I needed to do were miles apart. Instead of forging ahead to get through the agenda, like I wanted to do, I put my tablet down, like I needed to do.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I took a sip of my coffee. While I waited for Calypso’s response, Ursi strolled in and jumped onto her lap.
“I guess I don’t get why so many people seem to get off on talking about tragedy. You’d think they’d show the guy’s family some respect and keep their big mouths shut. At least in public.”
Ursi bumped her little orange-and-black head against Calypso’s hand. The young woman responded by scratching one ear, then the other. And breaking out in a grin when Ursi began purring.
My kitty was an expert at relieving stress for those who needed it. I thanked my lucky stars I got to live with a feline with such a big heart.
“Indeed. Sometimes, I think it’s a way for people to cope. The misery loves company thing, you know?”
“But you should have heard some of the things people were saying. Like Officer Watson was actually undercover for the FBI and he was bumped off by a drug cartel. Or that his wife did it so she could have his retirement to herself.”
I shook my head. They were implausible scenarios. Yet, some folks had bought into them, obviously.
“People don’t like uncertainty. Some, like your customers, will take a ridiculous answer over the truth.”
“So, what’s the truth?”
“That right now, we don’t know. It’s a lousy answer, but it’s true.” I got up to answer a knock at the door. “And it’s temporary.”
I hope.
“Chief Roberson.” I blinked a couple of times to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me. Nope, vision was fine. “What can I do for you?”
“Morning, Allie. I wanted to follow up on your interview with Officer Wilkerson.” He looked up. Gabe Sandoval lived in the apartment above me. It was as if Matt was trying to determine if Gabe could hear us.
This was odd.
It was way too early in the case for follow up interviews. Shoot, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out they were adding new witnesses while Matt stood in my doorway.
Then, I clued in.
“Come in.” I stepped aside. “Take a seat while I get you a cup of coffee. You know Calypso.”
“Ms. Bosley.” He nodded but didn’t say anything more.
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet fifteen degrees. The Rushing Creek PD and Calypso had a frosty relationship. She’d been heavily involved in protests that had sprung up in the aftermath of the discovery of the body of a long-missing girl.
“Chief.” She returned the nod as she took a seat across from him. “Have you found the murderer yet? Lot of rumors going around town last night about who did it.”
“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow. “Would you be willing to share what you heard?”
“I will if you take what I tell you seriously.”
“I’ve always taken what you have to say seriously, Ms. Bosley. I’m listening.”
“Give him a chance, Calypso.” I poured coffee for both of them. “We’re all on the same team right now.”
Matt winced at my use of the words right now. I regretted the not-so-subtle swipe, but Calypso needed to hear that even with past disagreements, she could trust him. And that yes, he would give the information she provided the appropriate level of consideration.
“I you say so, boss.” She took a long sip of coffee. “Most of what I heard is insane, like a drug cartel going after him, but—”
“Hold on.” Matt put his hand out. “Tell me more about that.”
“I heard one customer saying that Officer Watson was actually an FBI agent. That he worked here in some kind of deep cover role as part of a drug task force that went back to the Reagan Administration.” She shrugged. “Crazy, right?”
He tapped a pen against a page of his notebook. The hairs on the back of my neck rose to attention when he didn’t confirm Calypso’s assessment of the story.
“Do you know the name of the person who made this claim?”
“And please don’t say it was Maybelle Schumann,” I said.
“That old hag?” Calypso scrunched up her nose like she’d gotten a whiff of rotten eggs. “I know better than to pay attention to any of the rumors she likes to spin. No, it’s the guy who owns the landscaping company north of town, Roger Parke.”
Matt and I exchanged a glance. Despite my best efforts, my cheeks got hot at the mention of the name.
Calypso’s gaze went back and forth between us. “Am I missing something? Come on. I’m playing ball.”
I cleared my throat. “Nothing for you to worry about. Roger was a witness in a recent murder investigation. It was before you moved here.”
She leaned her head back and rolled her eyes. Holy cats, she was so skilled at playing a drama queen.
“Isn’t, like, everyone in town a witness in one of your murder cases by now? I mean, come on. The town isn’t that big.”
“We’re getting off topic. I’ll tell you about Roger later. He’s a good guy.”
My attempt at redirection seemed to work since Calypso flicked her fingers at me as if to say, “Fine, whatever.”
“Mr. Parke’s a reliable sort. He’s not one for hyperbole.” Matt slipped a piece of gum into his mouth. “You might be surprised how close to the truth he was.”
“What?” I shot to my feet. “Do you mean to tell me that lazy, fat Ollie Watson was working for the feds?”
“Yes and no. A number of years ago, he worked very closely with agents from the FBI and ATF on a task force aimed at busting up a drug ring based here in Brown County. The work he did led to the arrest of several high-profile members of a cartel and the apprehension of firearms, cash, and a stash of drugs with a street value of over four million dollars.”
“Holy samolie.” Calypso’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “You’re joking, right?”
“No.” Matt rubbed his eyes. “This was when I was new to the force. The case went to trial and all the defendants were convicted. Ever since, Ollie kind of coasted, getting the easy assignments. I don’t know the details, but I always got the feeling he’d gotten some kind of deal that in exchange for sticking his neck out, he wouldn’t have to put himself in harm’s way again.”
I frowned. “That sounds kind of shady.”
“By the time I took over as chief, Ollie had spent seven years taking cushy assignments. The department learned to work around him. Whenever I tried to bring it up, the mayor and the council told me he was getting close to retirement and asked that I cut him slack.”
“That was four years ago.” I shook my head. “That’s a long time to ride the Retiring Soon Gravy Train.”
“Yeah, that’s bull,” Calypso said. “So, are you trying to tell me that someone from that drug gang may have come back the other night and taken their revenge?”
“It’s possible. Two of the lower-rung convicts were released about six months ago. Think about it. Someone sits back and bides their time until the right moment to take their revenge. What better moment than Ollie’s last public appearance before retiring?”
“If it’s true, that’s a textbook case of playing the long game.” Calypso raised her mug. “They may be bad guys, but you gotta salute that kind of thinking.”
“No, you don’t.” Matt’s voice had an edge of steel to it. While the story lover in me kind of agreed with Calypso, I had to side with him on this one.
“What are the names of the guys who got out?” At this point, there was no point in trying to hide anything from Calypso, so I fetched my case notebook.
“Jonathan O’Malley and Peter Fedorov. There are rumors they have connections to Northern Irish militants and the Russian mafia, but we’ve never been able to confirm that.”
I jotted the names down. “What else did you hear?”
Calypso tapped her index fingers against her thumbs for a moment. “That Watson arrested the brother of your 9/11 Memorial committee buddy, and things didn’t end well. A couple of people were wondering if maybe he was after some revenge.”
“Jack Rogers? Can’t be.” I crossed my arms. “He’s a great guy. There’s no way he’d do something so heinous.
Matt wrote his name down. “I know Jack, too, Allie. Sometimes people surprise you.”
“Okay, what’s his motivation. What happened to his brother?”
“Jack’s older brother Chris had a drug problem. He got hurt playing football and got hooked on painkillers. One night, Ollie busted him for possession. A search of Chris’s car turned up enough oxycontin for a felony charge. Chris already had a number of convictions on his record. The prosecutor wanted a maximum sentence. Before it got to trial, Chris took his own life.”
Silence loomed heavy over the room as we took in the information.
“Wow.” My heart started aching. Jack had never shared that story. The pain he was carrying had to be unbearable. “How awful.”
“Yeah. Jack was overseas on deployment when this happened. He was able to come home for the funeral. That night Jack had a few too many beers and went after Ollie. Saying things like his brother’s death was Ollie’s fault and he’d pay for what he’d done to the Rogers family.”
“Sounds like drunk talk to me.” Calypso traced the rim of her coffee cup with a finger. “I mean, I hear things like that almost every night at the Pub.”
“I agree with you,” Matt said. “We’re going to turn over every stone until we get the guy. As unlikely as it sounds, until Jack can provide us with an alibi, he’s considered a suspect.”
“Seriously?” Admittedly, I had a bit of a crush on Jack, so maybe I didn’t look at him with the objectivity I needed.
“With the number of possible suspects in the hundreds and very little evidence, it’s a process of elimination right now.” He turned his focus to Calypso. “Thank you for the information. Did you hear anything else? Even something that seems insignificant could turn out to be critical.”
After a moment she shook her head. “Sorry. That’s all I got.”
“If you hear anything else, please reach out to me. Here’s my contact info.” He handed her a card.
“You didn’t come here on the off chance Calypso would have info on potential witnesses, did you?” On my page for suspects, I circled the names that had been mentioned during the conversation. It was a woefully short list.
“No. I wanted to follow up on our conversation yesterday by giving you some names—Willie Hammond and Cecil Burgess.”
“What about ’em?” Calypso leaned in, her frosty attitude toward the police chief melting before my eyes.
“They’re, uh—” I looked to Matt for guidance. He’d sworn me to secrecy a day ago. If the beans were going to be spilled, he’d have to do it.
“They’re citizens with colorful pasts. Allie and I were talking about people like them yesterday.” He got up and drained his coffee cup. “I need to go. Ms. Bosley, thanks again for the information. Allie.”
He tipped his hat to us and made a hasty exit. I had to give him props. It was so quick, by the time Calypso processed the enigmatic comment, he was already gone.
“No freaking way.” She rounded on me, her hands balled into fists. “You’re investigating this. Getting married in twelve days but you’re still putting yourself in danger. How stupid are you?”
She was angry with me. I needed to focus on the message, not her words. And choose my response carefully.
“I appreciate you worrying about me. Really, I do. And you’re right, I should be thinking about my wedding instead of trying to catch a murderer. This is bigger than what I want, though. You heard Matt. He needs all the help he can get.”
She crossed her arms as she looked out the window. “You could be putting yourself in a lot of danger. You’re an agent, not a cop. Let them do it. It’s what they get paid for.”
I downed the rest of my coffee. The chocolaty aroma helped me maintain my cool.
“Those are all valid points. I guess, at the end of the day, this is one way I can give back to my community. I don’t have Sloane’s money to build a park, or Rachel’s infrastructure to make meals for the less fortunate during the holidays, or Mom’s medical license to help out at the well child clinic.”
“You give back all the time. You’re on the 9/11 committee. You’re always donating books to the library. Shoot, you spread your spending money all around town.”
“Those are things anybody can do, though. This sleuthing thing . . .” I ran my fingers through my hair. How could I explain something when I didn’t fully understand it? Sometimes, I felt like Sookie Stackhouse from the Southern Vampire Mysteries and went with my heart when nothing else seemed to make sense.
“Okay, remember when we watched Hunt for the Wilderpeople? There’s that scene when the kid, Ricky Baker, says he didn’t choose the Skux life, the Skux life chose him.”
Calypso smiled. “That’s a hilarious scene. The roly-poly kid talking about being a gangbanger. As if.”
“But he believes it. And that’s the way I am about this. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse. All I know is that I was asked to help my town. I’m not going to turn my back on that.”
“Then you need to move to a new town.”
“The thought has occurred to me. More than once.” It was my turn to smile. “Besides, at this point, everyone’s going to assume I’m investigating. Might as well live up to expectations, right?”
“If you say so.” She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Do me a solid and keep out of harm’s way. I will be so bummed if you have to postpone the wedding reception. And you know the code when someone asks you to do them a solid.”
“Yes, yes. I cannot refuse. If I do, impending doom will descend upon us.” I rolled my eyes. Despite my attempt at looking annoyed, I appreciated the reference to the Cartoon Network sitcom Regular Show.
“I promise to make every effort to avoid danger in any way, shape, or form so my wedding reception doesn’t get canceled and ruin your fun.
“Perfect.” She gave me a fist bump. “I gotta fly. Picked up a daytime shift at the Pub. I’ll keep my ears peeled for any more intel.”
“You do that. The citizens of Rushing Creek thank you.”
Once I had the apartment to Ursi and myself, I returned to my case notebook. Thanks to Matt and Calypso, I had five suspects. I also had the start of a timeline.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough for a start. And I had ten days to bring this thing to a finish.