Fenway arrived at work just before seven on Monday morning. She had gotten a few hours of sleep, although she had been so excited about her discovery that she had trouble settling down. If Fletcher Jenkins had told his mother about the affair, and if they had contacted the county’s public information officer—Rachel—to figure out how best to go public with the accusations, then Klein might have very well been behind everything: the murder of the mayor, the staging of Rachel’s “suicide,” and the attempt on Rachel’s life in the hospital. Given the dead shooter’s multiple identities, it made sense that he was a professional hitman.
As usual, Dez had beaten Fenway into the office.
“I thought for sure I’d get here before you today,” Fenway said.
Dez shook her head. “Not a chance. Not after I missed all the action yesterday.”
“You all caught up?”
“I read the sheets. Not looking forward to doing this without McVie for the next week or two, I’ll tell you that much.”
Fenway debated telling Dez about the possible kidnapping of one of Fletcher’s daughters, as well as the note they found, but decided that they were already pushing their luck with McVie knowing about it.
“You got a delivery first thing this morning too,” Dez said.
“Me? What did I get? Someone send my car back from Sea-Tac?”
Dez smirked. “It’s just flowers from a mysterious stranger.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. They’re on your desk.”
Fenway stepped into her office. A large bouquet of multi-colored lilies, in shades of pink, white, and orange—a summer selection, Fenway supposed—bloomed on her desk in a glass vase with a square bottom that flared wider at the neck.
“Who are these from?” Fenway mused.
“I’m not as nosy as you are; I didn’t go snooping,” Dez said.
Fenway shot her a look.
Dez laughed. “Okay, fine. They’re from Everett Michaels. He was thrilled to meet you in person and he’s hoping he can convince you to endorse him for coroner.”
Fenway rolled her eyes. “The way to my heart isn’t flowers, it’s coffee,” she said. “But I guess I appreciate the gesture.”
“He’s hoping he can continue to convince you by taking you to dinner on Friday,” Dez said.
“Oh, really.” Fenway put her hands on her hips. “I think he wants me to give him more than just an endorsement.”
Dez cackled.
“Speaking of inappropriate relationships, I found out something yesterday,” said Fenway. “Barry Klein and Fletcher’s wife had an affair. Maybe they’re still having one.”
Dez looked at her sideways. “How’d you find that out?”
“HikeUpMeetUp.com needs to secure their servers better,” Fenway said. “I bet they’ve locked it back down now, but I got the screenshots.”
Dez paused. “Didn’t Fletcher confess already?”
“Well, yes.” Fenway narrowed her eyes. “But, uh, I don’t believe him.”
“He confessed, but you don’t believe him?”
“Rachel got shot at in the hospital at the exact same time we were arresting Fletcher,” Fenway said. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Not if Fletcher hired the gunman.” Dez cleared her throat. “Look, Fenway, I know I pushed the conspiracy theory earlier, but it’s really tough to deny a confession.”
“I think Fletcher was coerced into it.”
“Was coerced? Who coerced him?”
“Uh…” Fenway tapped her foot and scrunched up her face. “I don’t know. Not yet.”
Dez searched Fenway’s face. She squinted and tilted her head to the side. “And why do you think some unknown person coerced him?”
“I’m sorry, Dez,” Fenway replied, “but I don’t think I can tell you that.”
“Who else knows about this supposed coercion?”
“Sheriff McVie.”
Dez pursed her lips. “And he agrees with you that Fletcher’s innocent?”
Fenway paused. “I think so. I don’t know he’d say that definitively. But there’s certainly a lot of doubt.”
Dez pushed her chair back from the desk. “Okay, rookie,” she said, “I’ll lay off about it for now. Let me see your cheating husband thing.”
Fenway pulled out her laptop—the county had yet to replace the Acer notebook with the broken Escape key—and showed Dez her email with the screenshots of the conversation between Tracey Jenkins and Barry Klein.
“Okay,” Dez admitted, “this is pretty damning evidence that two people are going to cheat on their spouses. But how do you know that eyeguy805 is Klein and crazygrrl10 is Fletcher’s wife?”
“They’ve got profile information with their photos. This is a hiking meetup site, not some cheating spouses site. I mean, it looks like that’s what the two of them used it for, but it had their real names and photos in their profiles.”
Dez sat back in her chair and thought for a moment. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go pay Dr. Feelgood a visit.”
• • •
With her ancient laptop, it took Fenway five minutes to print out the conversation and the photos. Klein Optometry didn’t open until nine, so Dez thought they could catch the optometrist at home. Klein lived in a large rambler on the north side of Estancia off Cypress Grove Avenue. It took Dez about ten minutes to drive there.
“This is just like when you first started and didn’t have a car, rookie,” she said. “And I drove your sorry ass around all the time.”
“I’ll remember that when I’m paying two hundred bucks to get my car out of long-term parking, en route to a sixteen-hour drive back here,” Fenway said.
Dez pulled into the driveway and they got out. “It’s only seven-thirty,” Fenway said. “Do you think it’s too early?”
“Not on a Monday morning in this neighborhood,” Dez said. “All the good little mommies and daddies are awake and getting their rugrats ready for the day. If they’re not already at preschool.”
“Okay, Dez. You going to lead this one?”
“Hell, no. This man might be my boss in six months. I’d wait in the car if I didn’t think you’d screw this up if I weren’t here.”
Fenway rapped on the door. A girl of about four pulled the door open, and a man’s voice—Klein’s—shouted behind her, “Emily, don’t open—oh come on, Em—”
He stopped when he saw Fenway.
“Miss Stevenson,” he said coldly. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry to bother you at home,” Fenway said, although she’d really only be sorry if Klein’s wife weren’t there. “But as you probably know, we’re investigating the mayor’s murder.”
“I don’t see how I have anything to do with it,” Klein said.
“Last week, the mayor and her son met the county public information officer for several hours. And less than seventy-two hours later, someone murders the mayor, and someone tried to kill Rachel Richards as well. We believe that they discussed something that put them all in danger.”
“Are you suggesting that they discussed me?”
“It’s possible,” Fenway said. “Would you like to step outside so we can have this conversation more privately?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Klein said. “I’m not putting myself out just to make things easier on you.”
“Very well,” Fenway said. “It looks like you’ve been having an affair with Tracey Jenkins.”
“Tracey who?”
“You might know her better as crazygrrl10?”
Klein was silent, narrowing his eyes.
“Are you denying the affair, Dr. Klein?”
He gritted his teeth and clenched and unclenched his fists. “Yes,” he said. “I am denying the affair. And after November, you better run for the hills, Miss Stevenson. I’m coming for you.”
“Is Emily having an unscheduled play date with Tracey’s little girl?” she blurted out.
Klein looked at her sideways. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Fenway kicked herself for tipping her hand—and for not getting anything for it. For his part, Klein seemed truly confused—but he might have just been acting quite well. She couldn’t do much about it now, however, so she pressed on with the same line of questioning. “I’m talking about you having an affair with Tracey Jenkins. I’m talking about your affair going public, and you doing some things to try to keep it secret.”
Klein narrowed his eyes. “I am not having an affair with Tracey Jenkins,” Klein said, “and any further unsubstantiated conjecture and you’re risking a slander suit.” He started to close the door.
“You’re eyeguy805, right?”
The door stopped closing.
“What do you want?” Klein said softly.
“I want you to tell me where you were Friday night and Saturday morning,” Fenway said. “I want you to tell me if we’re going to find anything to connect you and the murder of Alice Jenkins—or the attempt on Rachel’s life.”
“This is a witch hunt,” Klein said. “There’s no hint of murder, and you know. You’re just trying to derail my campaign before it even gets started.”
“Hey, Dr. Klein,” Fenway said, pulling the folder with the conversation and photos out, “if this isn’t your photo with these washboard abs, and if you’re not eyeguy805, and if you didn’t arrange a meeting at the coffee place right next to my apartment to go cheat on your wife, then just tell me. Maybe your photo has been used by some Russian hackers who really want Tracey Jenkins to show up at The Coffee Bean all by herself.”
Dez piped up. “Don’t be silly, Coroner. We can just get their security tapes. The Coffee Bean keeps ’em for two years or so. We got plenty of time to review.”
Klein pressed his lips together, then stepped out onto the porch and closed the door. “Fine,” he hissed. “Tracey and I met at the Coffee Bean a few weeks ago. But who cares? It’s two adults having coffee.”
“For one, I think the voters will care if you’re having an affair,” Fenway said. “And the police will care if the mayor threatened to expose your affair and you killed her because of it.”
“I did nothing of the sort, and you know it,” Klein sneered. “This is a smear campaign. You know I’m planning to run for coroner and you’re such a daddy’s girl you’re doing his bidding, so his candidate will win.”
“Oh, Dez, Dr. Klein just called me a daddy’s girl,” Fenway said, sticking out her bottom lip. “That hurts my feelings.”
“Yeah, how about this?” Klein snarled, opening his front door and stepping back inside. “Get off my property. You’re trespassing. And I bet you didn’t obtain those private messages legally. I’ll deny everything, and my lawyer will get those charges dismissed faster than you can run crying to daddy.”
He slammed the door in their faces.
They were both quiet for a minute.
“What do you think, Dez?”
“What I think is that you need to tell me where Fletcher’s daughters are,” Dez said.
Fenway jumped, as if Dez had startled her. “I—uh—”
“Now see here, Fenway, you made some nonsense comment about a playdate with Fletch’s daughter.”
“That—uh—”
“That was highly suspicious, is what that was,” said Dez.
Fenway paused. “I’m not supposed to tell you, Dez. The cops can’t know.”
Dez narrowed her eyes at Fenway. “Why can’t the cops know?”
“Ah, crap,” Fenway said. She couldn’t see a way around without telling Dez the whole story. They stepped off the porch and moved onto the driveway. “I found a note in the Jenkins’ kitchen trash when we were there taking Fletcher in. I made an excuse to go inside, but I wanted to talk to Tracey. And I stepped on the trash can thing to open the lid, and this index card in there. The note said, ‘If you’re guilty, then she’ll live. No cops.’”
“Oh. I see.” Dez stopped for a minute. “Did you talk to Tracey?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you someone kidnapped her daughter?”
“No, but she acted strange. I mean, her husband had just been arrested for murder, but she kept going back and forth, like she had something to tell me but couldn’t.”
“Did you ask her where her daughter was?”
Fenway shook her head. “I guess I didn’t want to put her in a worse situation.”
Dez tapped her foot. “Does McVie know about this?”
“Yes.”
“And he doesn’t want to involve anyone else in law enforcement?”
“Right after I told him about the note, the shooting broke out at the hospital, and McVie shot the gunman and got taken off duty.”
“That doesn’t matter, Fenway. You and he are both mandatory reporters. When a child’s life is in danger, you’ve got to report it.”
“I thought that was only for abuse or neglect.”
“You seriously don’t think kidnapping falls under that?”
Fenway nodded. “But it hasn’t been reported to us. All we have is this index card I found in their trash. They might not even be talking about one of the daughters. Maybe they’re talking about the mayor, and Fletch didn’t think they’d kill her and they did.”
Dez put her hands on her hips. “I hope you have your story straight when this whole thing comes out and you’re explaining yourself to a judge.”
“Also, Dez,” Fenway said, lowering her voice and pulling her further down the driveway, “McVie thinks we have a mole in the sheriff’s office somewhere. He thinks someone purposely let in Stotsky to kill Dylan Richards in his cell, and we haven’t caught him yet. So we don’t want this to go to the sheriff’s office where someone we don’t trust could send that information to the kidnappers.”
“Oh, man,” Dez said softly. “Okay, I get why you haven’t let the cops know. But they have a lot more resources, they’ve dealt with hostage situations before. I mean, we oughta be able to keep it to a few people we trust.”
“Maybe.” Fenway thought for a minute. “But we don’t want to put a girl’s life in danger. Plus, remember, Fletcher and Tracey haven’t even reported their daughter missing yet. We don’t even know which daughter it is.”
“There’s one way to find out. We can go talk to Tracey.”
“But what if they’re watching the house?”
“Talking to the wife after the husband’s been arrested for murder is par for the course, Fenway. No one would suspect anything if we showed up.”
“Or what if they’ve bugged the house?”
“Then we have a different problem.” Dez thought for a moment. “We might be able to borrow a bug detector. I don’t like it much, but I could do it.”
“That’s great news. Who’s got the bug detector?”
“San Miguelito County. The detectives who run vice. Got it with some Homeland Security grant money a couple of years ago.”
“Good. I have to go there anyway. I need Kav or Melissa to run the note for prints without entering it into the system.”
“You actually have the note?”
“Sure I do. I took it out of their trash and put it in my purse.”
Dez shook her head. “I’ll give you one thing, Fenway, you’ve got guts.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you go into someone’s house and take a ransom note out of the trash can.”
“I had to, Dez. It was evidence. And I couldn’t let Tracey know I took it.”
“I know, I’m just saying, you’ve got guts.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“You do know,” Dez said, “how ironic it is that you don’t want cops to be involved, but you’re okay getting Kav and Melissa involved.”
Fenway paused, turning it over in her mind. “They’re not technically cops, and neither am I. And since he’s on administrative leave, McVie isn’t really a cop for the next week or two either.”
“You think the kidnappers are going to care about technicalities?”
Fenway was silent.
“Listen,” Dez said, “you trust Mark, too, right?”
“Yes,” Fenway said.
“Then let’s tell him about this. He’s better in the field than I am. He can go root some stuff out that doesn’t even occur to me.”
They started to walk back down the driveway toward Dez’s cruiser.
“Do you need to get read in on this officially?” Fenway said. “I really don’t want anything to get back to the kidnappers. If there are, in fact, kidnappers.”
“Read in on what?” Dez said.
“Read in on this whole—”
Dez shot Fenway a look.
“Oh. Right.”
“It’s not by the book, but I think we need to keep this hushed up until we know what we’re dealing with.” She paused. “I might be able to get the names of a couple of private investigators who could work on this. Not sure how we work payment out with them, but we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“We’re way ahead of you, Dez. McVie and I stopped by my father’s house last night. He’s agreed to foot the bill for a P.I. He says he knows a great one. He’s setting up a meeting with us, hopefully for later today, assuming she’s not on a job already.”
“Wait—your father knows all about this?”
Fenway grimaced. “Well, yes. And I had some reservations about it. But I think my father has changed a lot after what happened with Stotsky. He knows he can’t be involved with shady stuff anymore. He knows how lucky he is that Stotsky hasn’t turned on him.”
“Yet.”
“Right, yet. But still.”
Dez shook her head as they got to the car. “Who do you think coordinated Rachel’s promotion?” she said. “You think Rachel, with her can-do attitude and thirty seconds of experience, just magically ascended to public information officer?”
Fenway blinked.
“Oh mercy me. You do think that. You do think Rachel got the promotion because she’s so fantastic.” Dez put her hands on her hips. “Look, Rachel’s capable. The county did the right thing to hire her. But your father talked to a couple of the county supervisors, maybe strong-armed the acting HR director a little, and made the promotion happen in exchange for Stotsky’s silence.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he offered Rachel a PR position at Ferris Energy right after Stotsky’s arraignment.”
“Really? She didn’t tell me any of that!”
“Well, no, she knows you have a complicated relationship with your father. She told me, though, and she already knew enough to figure out your father had something up his sleeve. So she declined. She told him her dream of one day being White House press secretary, and that she wanted to stay in public service. I’ve gotta give your dad credit for being resourceful. He gave the public information officer the PR job at Ferris Energy instead, and then basically pushed Rachel’s name through. Without calling attention to himself. And by the time I realized all the strings your dad pulled, Rachel had already said yes to the job. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Ferris had tricked her.”
Fenway opened her mouth to respond and found she couldn’t.
“Look, Fenway, I know you’re a little bit jaded already, but you’re not jaded enough when it comes to your dad. He already knows, so there’s nothing we can do but hope he’s not involved. I sure hope he’s not. And it would be idiotic for him to be involved, because if anything happens to Rachel, your dad’s deal with Stotsky goes out the window.”
Fenway nodded.
“Okay,” Dez said. “Let’s go get that ransom note and bring it to San Miguelito. I can’t put off seeing Michi face to face much longer anyway.”
They opened the doors and got in the cruiser. Dez started the car up and started back to Fenway’s apartment.
“Dez, can I ask you something?” Fenway said.
Dez looked over at Fenway and read the question on her face. “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long.”
“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but, you and Dr. Yasuda?”
Dez sighed. “Yes, Fenway. Me and Dr. Yasuda. She’s my ex.”
“You keep that pretty hush-hush.”
“Yeah, I do. I’m not out at work.”
“Why not? Mark’s out. Even when Walker ran things, it didn’t seem to be a big deal.”
“Heh. Spoken like a straight person.”
Fenway cringed. “Sorry.”
Dez sighed. “It’s easier for Mark, he doesn’t have to be gay and black.”
“Yeah, okay.” Fenway leaned back in the seat. “So when Dr. Yasuda says she’s sorry...”
“Michi couldn’t—” Dez started, then faltered and looked down. “I know we’re not out at work, Fenway. But she didn’t want anyone to know. She and I couldn’t go out as a couple. She made us stay in separate rooms when her parents visited.” She paused. “I’d had enough. We both probably said some things we didn’t mean. But it broke us.”
Fenway turned back onto the freeway. “I’m sorry, Dez.”
“Yeah, well. Shit happens.” Dez looked over her shoulder and changed lanes and took a deep breath. “I’m just so angry with her. I can’t even talk to her on the phone without yelling.”
Fenway didn’t know what to say.
“Listen,” Dez continued, “I know it’s a two-way street. Long commute for me, long hours for both of us, both of us dealing with dead bodies all the time. Me not being the best, maybe, at telling her how I felt.”
“You said you were living together?”
Dez looked out of the corner of her eye at Fenway. “No, we weren’t just living together. We were married.”
“Married? And you kept it a secret?”
“Yep. Alice Jenkins was the officiant at our wedding,” Dez said. “And she made sure both of us got taken seriously in our jobs.”
“The mayor held sway in San Miguelito?”
“You better believe it. She’s very influential, all up and down the coast. She broke the damn glass ceiling for every woman and every minority who’s come after her. And she didn’t compromise. And she proved to me that you could have principles and stand up for yourself and still have people love and respect you.” Dez cleared her throat. “I miss the hell outta her.”
Dez turned off on Broadway and made a right on Estancia Canyon. “And there’s the famous Coffee Bean where Barry and Tracey met to start their affair.”
Dez left the car running when she pulled into the parking lot of Fenway’s apartment complex. Fenway jumped out and took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor. She looked quickly around for signs that Rachel had been there, but there didn’t seem to be any.
She unlocked her door and went into her bedroom, where she dug the card in the evidence bag out from the bottom of her lower nightstand drawer. She looked again for any signs of Rachel. If she were just wearing her hospital gown, Rachel probably didn’t have the key that Fenway had given her. But Rachel might be resourceful enough to get in anyway. She looked wistfully around the room, but nothing had changed since she had left.
She locked up and got back in the Impala. “Okay,” Fenway said. “Next stop, San Miguelito.”