I awoke to pressure on my chest and a black tail swishing my face, but before I had time to swat it away, Othello dug in his rear claws and launched off, running to the sound of a can of cat food being opened in the kitchen, no doubt by Dad.
I fumbled to find my glasses on the nightstand and glanced at the clock: 6 AM, on the dot. Later than I’d wanted to sleep, but I still had plenty of time to get ready and start the second—and last—day of the train and toy show by eight.
I reluctantly threw off the covers and crossed to the window to pull back the curtains.
Main Street still looked the same. Same faux brick street. Same delightfully quaint shops, most still closed, of course. A few cars ventured down the street, windshield wipers slapping off a little condensation. A stray reflected headlight pierced the morning twilight and drew my eyes to Craig’s shop. It brought a lump to my throat. He’d accomplished so much, converting that once-vacant storefront into a thriving business, and he had died leaving so many plans unfulfilled. What would happen to the business and to those comics he’d been working on?
When I padded out to the kitchen, Dad, wearing an apron over his security uniform, had already started the coffee. Bacon popped and sizzled in a small pan on the stove, and he rushed to turn down the heat.
“You seem chipper this morning,” I said, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out the largest mug I could find.
“It’s all those years operating on little or no sleep. I’m rather used to the long hours. How are you doing?”
“Funny thing,” I said. “My alarm clock didn’t go off this morning.”
“I may have sneaked in to turn it off,” he said. “I texted Parker and Miles, and they’re both willing to pitch in today. I figured Parker could work the store, maybe Miles and Cathy run the booth.”
“And I could, what? Sleep in and have my nails done, maybe catch a movie? Dad, yes, I was upset about Craig, but I think I can handle working today.”
“Actually, I thought you might like the chance to just walk around the train and toy show.”
“Take in the scenery? Check out the competition?”
Instead of answering, Dad pulled a plate from the cupboard, lined it with paper towels, and started draining the cooked bacon. “I was hoping you could be my eyes and ears. You did good yesterday, kiddo. The coffee cups. The missing comics. Jenna Duncan. They’re all details that might’ve gone unnoticed because it all looked like an accidental fall. You gave the police several leads and may have preserved key evidence.”
As he heaped on the compliments, I could feel my head swell, but at the same time, my internal early warning system was activated. Dad’s praise was seldom unconditional. The safe, rational thing to do would be to put my foot down and drag both of us out of the investigation. But Dad had spun his words as adeptly as some cult leader, playing on my pride, my craving for his approval, my sense of justice, and that infernal inherited curiosity.
I said nothing, but my next sip of coffee tasted an awful lot like Kool-Aid.
“This is the last day of the show,” he said. “I’m assuming all the major players from yesterday will show up again. They seem to have some unfinished business.”
“And you trust me to do this on my own?” I pulled out a chair and plopped at the table with my coffee.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re going to send your little girl, out all alone, wandering the mean aisles of the East Aurora Train and Toy Show?” I forced a casual smile. “Why, I could trip over a teddy bear, step on a Lego, or even get my eye poked out by a lightsaber.”
“Just as long as you don’t run off with that Howdy Doody doll a few booths over.”
I batted my eyelashes at him. “But Howdy is so sweet. You don’t know him like I do. And I can earn enough to support both of us until he finishes school.”
Dad set the plate of bacon on the table and sat down. “A pretty girl like you, I doubt you’d be alone for long,” he said airily and picked up his newspaper.
I crumpled the top of his paper so I could see his face. “What have you done?”
He shook the crinkles out of the paper and set it down. “I just mentioned to Ken that you’d be there. Since he handed over the investigation to Howard Reynolds, it seems he’s decided to take some time off.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s your game?”
“Lizzie,” he said, his expression grim, “this isn’t a game. The more I think about it, the bleaker it looks. We’ve got one dead man, and we can’t even call it murder, not for sure. And all these characters are walking around, and we’ve no idea what they’re up to or who they’re after. And the clock is ticking. I know I can’t keep you from the toy show, but if you’re going to be there, you might as well see what you can find out. And I figured you’d be safer with Ken along.”
“For my protection.”
“Yes.”
“And that’s the only reason?”
He half-hid his face behind his coffee cup. “I thought you might enjoy the company. You do seem to get along.”
“So a little investigation, a little matchmaking. And you’ve already talked to Parker, Miles, and Ken. What time did you get up, anyhow?”
“A little after five. But I’ve been multitasking like the wind. I also looked up the value of those missing comic books.” He pushed a neatly written column of numbers in my direction.
I glanced at the total at the bottom and nearly spurted coffee out of my nose. “Ninety thousand dollars?”
“Closer to ninety-five, but in that ballpark.”
“That’s some ritzy ballpark. Ninety grand would pay for a lot of peanuts and nachos.” I set my mug down, pulled off my glasses, and started to run down the list of comics. “These have to play some part in what happened. I had no idea they were worth this much. I wonder if Maxine does.”
“Beats me,” Dad said. “But Jenna Duncan just got a lot more interesting.”
I leaned back in my chair. “So did Craig. Who would even bring ninety thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise to a local collector’s show?”
Dad rested his elbows on the table. “That’s a very astute question. You have to figure Craig brought them because he was reasonably convinced he had a buyer for them.”
I looked up at him. “The mob guys?”
“Maybe, but why?”
I shrugged. “Jenna Duncan might want them back, but if Craig knew what they were worth and he got them fair and square, he’s not going to give her a bargain.”
“True,” Dad said. “And then there’s the age-old question—who gains the most from Craig’s death?”
“Maxine did say that they were insured. I’m going to lay odds that he carried life insurance as well.”
“So who benefits?” Dad asked. “And when we find that out, we also need to know if those beneficiaries were at the train show.”
“They wouldn’t have had to be,” I said. “They could’ve hired someone. What if the mob guys were there as hired guns to kill Craig? Or you? Or maybe nobody tried to kill anybody, because we still don’t know for sure that Craig was drugged. And even if he was, we don’t know the goal was murder.”
He winked at me. “You’re very good at this.”
“How can you say that? I have a million pieces and none of them fit.”
“Exactly. Most mistakes at this stage of the game are made because of assumptions. You’re gathering pieces, figuring out different ways they might go together, but you’re not trying to jam them to make them fit. Seriously. You’re a natural. Must be good genes.”
“I’m afraid my good jeans are in the wash.”
“And it always comes back to clothes.” Dad rolled his eyes. “And I had so much hope you’d keep your mind on the case.”
“I’m just figuring out what I should wear today. Seems I have a date with a policeman.”
# # #
I never got a chance to “accidentally” run into Ken at the toy show, since he was waiting for me at the kitchen table when I emerged from the bathroom, showered and dressed and looking for my earring.
“You look nice,” he said, coming over to kiss my cheek.
“Thanks. Where’s . . .”
“Your father let me in as he was leaving. He went over early to check things out at the show.”
“And you’re my protector for the day?”
Ken shrugged, and I thought I detected a hint of a blush. Was he onto Dad’s other motive for setting this up?
“Are you sure it isn’t my father who needs protecting?”
“My guys are still running down that list, but I was thinking. If someone drugged that cup intending it for your father, it would have had to happen early on, probably in the concessions area. That’s all on tape, and not too many people had opportunity, and even fewer had any reason to hold a grudge against your father.”
He didn’t mention the glaring exception. Terry. I’d definitely keep my eyes open for him at the show today.
I finally spotted my earring in the corner under the kitchen table. Funny thing about earrings, you can’t always find them where you left them, especially if you have a cat.
“Just let me go clean this off,” I said, heading to the bathroom.
I stared at myself in the mirror. “Is this what you want?” I whispered. Assuming my relationship with Jack was DOA, as our last conversation suggested was inevitable, was I ready for some kind of committed relationship with Ken? My feelings for him personally aside—and he was a great guy and certainly Dad’s fan-favorite—did I want to get more seriously involved with a cop?
I knew the long hours and the stress all too well. I hadn’t worried too much about Dad when I was little. I recalled being more resentful than anything else, especially when fun plans were cancelled and promises broken. But that changed when I began to understand the dangers of his work—and any vestiges of resentment remaining were surgically extracted at the instant I’d learned that he’d been shot in the line of duty.
Someone needs to run in the direction from which bullets are coming, and I had a lot of respect for the men and women who did. But I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to be the one at home with her stomach tied into a macramé plant hanger, waiting to see when—or if—someone I loved would ever walk through the door.
I shook my head at my reflection. It was nice to have someone to go to the movies with, or to philharmonic concerts at Knox Farm. And maybe that’s all that Ken wanted too. He’d never seemed in any particular hurry to advance a relationship. But perhaps my friendship with Jack had something to do with that too.
But today Ken was to be my partner-in-crime, and not my partner-for-life, so I did my best to shake the thought from my mind.
Seriously, how close can someone be to having a complicated love life without having one at all?
# # #
“Where are we headed?” I asked Ken, still thinking about the relationship conversation with my reflection.
“I thought we could go to the station first,” Ken said, taking my words at face value. “Howard Reynolds is going to want to talk with you, so I thought maybe we could get that out of the way.” He hazarded a glance at me as he waited for a break in traffic to make a turn. “Maybe pick up a little information while we’re there, if we’re lucky.”
“So in other words, you’re still working the case, just not officially.”
He nodded. “It’s not that I don’t trust Howard or the rest of the guys. They’re great. But there’s too much riding on this whole situation for me to cool my heels at home or pack up and go hunting.”
I merely nodded while he pulled into the parking lot and slid into his reserved spot.
Lori Briggs, the mayor’s wife, whose apparent interest in the police chief had sparked more than a few rumors around town, gave me a frozen grin as she met us midway to the door. “Why, Liz! Ken. Funny to run into you here.” Her attention was all on Ken, which was pretty typical. “They just told me you’d taken today off.”
He dipped his chin and took my arm. A signal to her? “Yes, ma’am. Just needed to stop by for a few minutes.”
“I thought you’d be working the case,” she said.
He shrugged. “Not sure yet whether there is a case, but it’s in good hands.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Be careful. I’m not saying Craig McFadden was all that well liked around here, but the folks on Main Street are a little worried this is becoming a trend. First that ugly business in the toyshop last year, and now . . .”
“What are people saying?” I asked. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like Craig fell.”
“They’re saying drugs. Something trippy, like LSD or PCP. And it might not be any of my business, but now’s not the time to slack off. It’s time to find his dealer or whatever and send a clear message that we have a zero-tolerance policy on illegal drugs.”
“I assure you,” Ken said, “nobody is slacking off, and if it turns out Craig’s death was due to some kind of drug overdose, every asset of my department will be used to root out the source.” Ken’s words had grown in vehemence.
Lori was a little taken aback, quite literally, and stumbled into the mulch lining the walkway, her high heel sinking into the loose ground. Ken reached out to keep her from falling.
She held onto his arm a little longer than was necessary. “Alrighty then,” she said, her face flushed. “I guess I’d better leave you to it.” She sauntered to her Volvo, once again parked in the tow-away zone out front.
Ken watched her go. “One of these days, I’m going to have that car towed.” He pulled open the door. “Shall we?”
“I notice you didn’t correct her. Do you think Craig might have taken some kind of street drug?” I’d been so fixated on the coffee cups and the idea that my father could have been targeted that I’d never even considered that if anyone drugged Craig, that person might be Craig.
He shrugged. “She’s just guessing. But it’s certainly possible. That, and perhaps some kind of overdose or side effect from a legitimate medication. I hope the toxicology results come in quick so we know what we’re dealing with. If it is some kind of new designer drug moving in, I want to move it out just as quick.”
The air seemed stagnant as we made our way inside. Ken was immediately buzzed in, and I followed him to a desk at the back of the bullpen. At it sat a thirtysomething African American man. He was bulky without suggesting a lack of fitness, and he already looked tired. I suspected he’d been working for hours.
“Detective Reynolds, this is Liz McCall. I thought you might want to talk with her. She was a witness to the incident yesterday.”
Reynolds rose from his desk and offered a hand. I shook it, trying hard not to be surprised as I noticed several fingertips were missing. The war? I’d been told he was a veteran.
“Thanks, saves me a trip.” He sent a friendly, reassuring smile in my direction while gesturing to a chair next to his desk. “How are you doing this morning, Miss McCall?”
“Liz is fine,” I said, smiling while I sat down. In the corner of my mind was Dad’s voice saying how a good interrogator always acted like your best friend. And suddenly I was less reassured.
“So you knew this Craig McFadden?” His tone was even and conversational. Fine. I had nothing to hide.
“Yes, sir. I went to school with him, for a little while anyway. Later he moved away.”
“What did you think of him?”
Ken, who hadn’t made any move to leave, cleared his throat.
I sat up a little straighter. “Honestly, in school he was quite a jerk. But I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt that he’d turned his life around.”
“And you got along with him now?”
“I didn’t see that much of him,” I said, not mentioning that I tended to go out of the way to make that happen.
“So you probably couldn’t tell me if he was acting out of the ordinary at all.”
I shook my head.
Ken leaned forward. “You might want to check with his doctor to see if he was on any medications . . .”
“Got it covered.” Detective Reynolds rubbed an eyebrow and turned back to me. “Your businesses are in competition, I gather.”
“Not really,” I said. “He sold mostly comic books, and we mainly sell toys. There is only a small overlap.”
“Yet you still offered his employee a job at your place based on her experience.”
Rats. “You’ve been talking with Maxine.”
He nodded. “She’s a bit torn up about the whole thing.”
“She knew Craig a lot better than I did, and now she’s got to be wondering if she has a job.”
“So Craig’s death opens the door for you to acquire a valuable employee,” Reynolds said.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. A few heads around the bullpen pivoted to look in my direction. “Are you entertaining the idea that I killed Craig so I could steal Maxine? For the record, I wasn’t trying to steal Maxine as much as I wanted to borrow her for the holiday rush. She’s an amazing worker, and yes, I did want to capitalize on that knowledge base a little bit. Not many temporary employees could pick the Bionic Six out of a lineup of action figures. When you find one who can, they’re good as gold.” I made a mental note to ask her if she was still available.
He scooted back in his chair, and Ken’s head drooped. Time to start holding my tongue a bit.
“You might be right there,” Reynolds said. “As a motive, it’s a little sketchy. But tell me what you know about Maxine.”
“Not a whole lot. Just what I saw at the show yesterday. She’s very efficient and personable. She dealt well with customers and seemed to get along with Craig okay, which couldn’t have been easy.”
“You didn’t notice anything off in their relationship?”
I shrugged. “They didn’t have a relationship, in that sense. At least I hope not. Not unless she’s some kind of cougar.” With very low standards, I added mentally. “Still, she put up with more of his nonsense than I would have.”
“How so?”
“He was abrasive and rude. And she went above and beyond the call of duty, especially for that kind of job.”
“Did she say what she thought of her employer?”
“She seemed to make excuses for him a little,” I said, noticing this for the first time myself. “I figured she was just very loyal. Old school.”
Reynolds nodded, but his brow creased ever so slightly.
“Is Maxine a suspect?” I asked.
“We don’t have suspects,” Reynolds said. “Not until we can be sure a crime has actually been committed. Right now I’m just trying to learn who the players are.”
I nodded, thinking my dad would’ve liked that assessment. “Does that mean you’re not going to tell me to not leave town like they do in all the old TV shows?”
“As if I had the power.” Reynolds tossed his pen on his desk. “But if you are planning any trips, I’d appreciate a heads-up.”