Sam knocked before entering the conference room. She found Jake, Frank, and Captain Robinson seated at the end of the table, eyes glued to the monitor hanging from the wall.
“This the tape from the grocery store parking lot?” Sam asked as she carefully placed the small brown bag on the table.
“Yep.” Frank had the remote in his hand. “This your guy?” They watched as Abby, carrying Dillon, walked to a brown van. She slid open the side door and then settled Dillon into his car seat. Once she closed the door and climbed in on the driver’s side, a man emerged from the store carrying one plastic bag. The cameras were mounted on the roof of the building and caught the man from the back side.
“Yes, that’s him. Did you get a plate number?”
“Didn’t drive. Either that or his car is parked down the street.”
“Clever,” Robinson added with a shake of his head. “We have a glimpse of him when he’s walking into the store but he keeps his head down so we can’t even use facial recognition software if the department ever owned any.”
“What about the cameras inside the store?” Sam asked.
“Don’t use them.” Jake opened the paper bag and studied the two cans of soup. “They have the cameras but they don’t turn them on. They think just having them hanging there will deter theft.”
“Fat chance.” Robinson rubbed his hands together. “Okay then. Let’s get those cans over to the crime lab and see if our boy’s prints are in the system.”
“What about the cameras from Bailey’s Sports Bar? Maybe we can see if Shopping Boy’s face shows up there,” Sam suggested.
Jake gave a shrug. “Worth a try. The Baby Dicks are still working on them. Maybe this video gives them enough detail to work with.”
<><>
Some would say it was best to put the past behind you. Stacy had said that too many times. But what did she know? She had wanted fame and fortune as much as he had. That was the reason she married him. All the promises, all the potential. Stacy had even looked past his weight as he tipped the scales at over three hundred pounds. When convincing people to accept him didn’t work, he had to look to himself. Trimming down to one-eighty should have done the trick but it hadn’t. He hadn’t been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. Nature had been cruel early in his twenties and seen fit to pluck the hair from the top of his head. Stacy’s friends couldn’t understand what she saw in him. In the end, Stacy started to wonder the same thing. His magic had worn off. The fortune continued to be elusive. Luckily they hadn’t had any children to fight over. In the end she got the house, the car, wiped out their meager savings account and moved back to Boston.
Stacy had been the one bright moment in his life. Blonde, beautiful, vivacious. She could have had anyone. Actually she did want anyone but him, until he convinced her otherwise. It had lasted three glorious years.
Memories of those years weren’t enough to bring one glimmer of a smile to his life. Put your past behind you? Not a chance. Especially now. He should be happy that the two men were mentioned in the newspaper, but they were still walking around free. The article made it sound like Revere and Bordeau were helping the damn investigation, not one mention that they were suspects.
He let the feelings wash over him. He reveled in vengeance, bathed in spite, and laid in bed at night working out plans in his head. He could have rented a nicer apartment. His job paid him a livable salary, but staring at a depressing one bedroom apartment filled with consignment shop furnishings kept his hatred simmering, kept him focused on his goals.
He splayed the window blinds and studied the pathetic lives scurrying on the sidewalk two floors below. The odor of coffee wafted through the walls, probably saturating the wood. Not a bad scent to wake up to. Could have been worse. Could be living above a greasy taco restaurant or fish market. Living above Java the Hut gave him a good view of the Morning Glory Clinic.
<><>
Sam sipped her tea at the island counter. Outside on the deck Dillon was bundled up in the stroller napping away while Alex stoked his pipe.
“This is very good tea, Samantha.” Abby placed a steaming cup in front of Sam, then poured herself a cup.
“I bought a bag of the tea leaves from the Café Fleurs Grotte. It’s called Li Zhi Hong. I’ll have to take you and Alex there for lunch one day.” Sam scoured the back counter with her eyes. “Any lemon squares left?”
“Of course.”
Although Sam thought Abby looked more regal when her hair was in a knot at the back of her neck, she loved it when Abby wore it down as it was now. It hung to her waist and gleamed as though polished. There was just a hint of silver threads and Abby was not one to color the gray and silver from her hair.
“What are you working on?” Abby set a plate with squares of lemon pastries on the island counter. She grabbed her cup of tea and took a seat next to Sam.
“College newspapers from the school our suspects attended.”
“Looking for skeletons?”
“Always.” Sam motioned to a photo on the front page. “When you look at these two GQ poster boys, don’t you just know they are too good to be true?”
“Where shall I drop him?” Alex cradled a sleeping baby in his arms as though he were a bag of C4 ready to explode should Alex make too quick of a move.
“Put him in the crib in the study and close the door. Hopefully he’ll sleep for a couple hours.” Sam smiled at how Alex had become the doting uncle.
Abby prepared another cup of tea and set a plate on the counter next to Sam. “Did you find out the name of that man?”
Alex returned and shrugged out of his jacket, placing it on the back of the chair. “This the man from the grocery store?”
“Yes. He had a very unpleasant aura. Don’t think I have ever encountered anyone whose very presence was preceded by the coldest chill I have felt in a long time.” Abby set a plate and napkin in front of Alex who quickly grabbed one of the lemon squares. “If he hasn’t already committed a crime, I’m sure it is in his mind.”
“Oh, he’s already committed it,” Sam said. “I heard the same word that I heard while investigating Marti’s suicide and the body found at the golf course.” Sam thought back to the man in the grocery store, his facial features, height, hair. “The thing is, I have the two owners of the Morning Glory Clinic at the top of my list but neither one was the guy in the grocery store. And even though he resembles the man in the coffee shop, he still didn’t look quite the same.”
Alex filled his coffee cup from the carafe, then grabbed another lemon square. “Probably a hired hit man. They camouflage their appearance. The rich don’t want to get their hands dirty, like with you…wapageya.”
“Well, they aren’t going to scare me away.” Sam wrapped her arm around Alex’s shoulder. “He probably was hired. You make a great detective.”
“No thanks. I can’t do what you and your mother do. Few people can.”
“But you give me good advice. Take this newspaper.” Sam thumbed through the pages pointing at various pictures. “Those two psychologists were on the debate team, tennis, theatre, you name it. Way too picture perfect.”
“That’s all they put in school papers, Samantha,” Abby said. “They aren’t going to list suspensions and police reports.”
“Your mother is right.” Alex pointed at a picture of Matthew Bordeau and a female teacher, Viola Williams, who had been in charge of the debate team and also the Humanities Department. “If you want to find out the dirt on anyone, ask the teacher.”
Sam took Alex’s advice and spent the rest of the afternoon searching the Chicago Tribune archives on the computer to find references to Reed University. According to a Tribune article, Viola Williams had been fired from her job. The newspaper stated she had changed the grades of two of her students. The students claimed they didn’t ask her to and she swore she had never and would never in her lifetime jeopardize her career by doing something so dishonest. The two students had been Matthew Bordeau and Austin Revere.
Sam did another computer search of telephone white pages, hoping Viola Williams still lived in the area. She didn’t find any near Chicago, but did find a Viola Williams in Merrillville, Indiana.
Sam picked up her cell phone. “Hey there, Miss Jackie.”
“Uh oh. I know that tone, girlfriend. What are you planning?”
“Busy tomorrow? I’d like you to take a trip with me to Merrillville, Indiana.”
“Honey, if it’s to do some shopping at the mall, I’m all yours.”
“We can go there afterwards if you’d like.”