CHAPTER NINE
Taft was on the phone with Mangella when he got beeped in by Mackenzie. He’d been wrapping up anyway. Basically the call was a fishing expedition on Mangella’s part. Something really wrong was going on with the man. Something he was afraid Taft was going to learn. The separation of their working relationship was imminent, it was clear. Mitch was into something he didn’t want Taft to know about. He was keeping secrets for unknown reasons. Taft had been walking a tightrope with the man already and that tightrope was growing shakier and shakier and Mangella was thrumming it.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said to Mangella on Mac’s second beep.
He grunted a response and Taft clicked over.
“Taft,” he answered.
She didn’t waste words. “Bibi Engstrom’s garage went up in flames tonight. Detective Haynes called me. They found her body inside.”
“Whoa.” He checked his phone. Almost ten p.m. “What time?”
“Um . . . earlier. Dinnertime, I think. There was an explosion and the fire department doused the flames . . . they found Bibi’s body still in her car.”
He heard the stress in her voice. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Thank you . . . it’s okay.”
Denial. She sounded stressed. “Haynes called you pretty fast.”
“I told you I talked to him about Bibi asking me to look into Rayne’s death. It makes sense I would be a first call. I’d do the same if the situation were reversed. I’m headed to the station now to talk to them.”
“Not without a lawyer.”
“Taft, I don’t need a lawyer! I just want to know what happened. This isn’t coincidence. Something’s rotten in River Glen and I mean to find out what it is.”
“Wait till tomorrow. You know how they are. They’ll put you in the hot seat, make you feel guilty for something you had nothing to do with.”
“You’re projecting. That’s not how I feel.”
“Laughlin, listen—”
“I called you because we’re working together. But I can take care of myself and there’s a case now. Something’s going on with first Rayne, now Bibi. They’re connected, I just don’t know how. One of Rayne’s exes, maybe? I don’t know. But I’m sure as hell going to find out.”
“Tomorrow,” he insisted, his voice firm. “It can wait till tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Taft. I’m doing it my way.”
And she hung up.
Shit.
He glanced down. Plaid was looking at him a bit worriedly, but then that was the fawn pug’s perpetual appearance. Tommy had decided to extend his trip to Vegas and had asked if Taft would be able to keep the dogs awhile. Taft had agreed and his older neighbor had gone dark. It had been almost a week since he’d left, however, and Taft was starting to feel like the forgotten sitter.
“You know the Dr. Seuss book Horton Hatches the Egg?” he asked the pugs as Blackie joined his sister and they both looked expectantly at Taft. “Horton is left sitting on the egg while Mayzie, the lazy bird, heads to Palm Beach.” They cocked their heads in unison at his voice, which made him smile.
“I’m going out,” he told them. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Completely misinterpreting, they both jumped up on the couch and circled around for a good, long nap.
“I didn’t say do what I—” He cut himself off as he shrugged into his jacket. If Laughlin was facing the police, he was going to be with her. He let the pugs be, aware that he was losing the battle against their never-ending shedding on the furniture.
* * *
The River Glen PD hadn’t asked Mac to come in. She’d told them she was coming down as soon as Detective Haynes alerted her to the fire and Bibi Engstrom’s death. She wanted to be front and center on this. Full transparency. Because the investigation was in its infancy when Detective Haynes had called her, the police had barely had time to deliver the news of Bibi’s death to her husband, Hank Engstrom. She appreciated the heads-up, but knew it was also for their investigative benefit, as they were aware of her connection with Bibi.
Mac wasn’t worried about what the department would think of her involvement. She knew these guys. Knew them well. She’d insisted on coming down tonight because she needed information. She was boggled, upset, out of kilter. Bibi was dead? How? Why? It didn’t seem possible. Taft wanted her to stay away, but he was only looking at things from his own perspective and that didn’t apply to her.
Haynes had been at the site, but had told her he was returning to the station, so she drove straight there. It took her about twenty minutes from her mother’s house until she hurried through the front door of the department and saw the night receptionist behind the thick plastic screen. The River Glen PD had limited administrative staff throughout the night, and Mac could count on one hand the few times that an evening actually exploded with people, miscreants and victims of crimes and their families, filling up the waiting room and/or jail cells.
As she entered, all was quiet. Haynes would be in the squad room. He might be off his shift, but she knew from experience that he paid only cursory attention to the clock when he was on a case. Bennihof had squawked about it, but since Haynes wasn’t one to suck up all the overtime allotment even if he was working, not a lot further was said.
“Hi, Colleen. Detective Haynes is expecting me.”
Colleen Dennison smiled at her through the plexiglass. “Good to see you, Officer Mac. This about the deadly garage fire?”
“You got it. Good to see you, too.”
“Go on in.” She pressed the buzzer and Mac grabbed the door handle and swung it outward, passing into the inner sanctum. She took two steps, then stopped and looked back at Colleen, now only separated by a short counter.
“The Battle-axe here tonight?” asked Mac.
Colleen jerked her head to the closed door on her right and directly opposite Mac. “Right in there.”
“Can you tell her I’d like to talk to her before I leave?”
“I’ll pass it along.”
Officer Mac . . . No longer, but habits died hard.
Mackenzie hadn’t been within the secured doors of the department since she’d left and it felt a bit strange heading inside, almost as if she were returning to work. She found Cooper Haynes standing beside his desk . . . and Ricky Richards was right there with him.
“Hi, Mackenzie,” greeted Cooper. He was rumpled and haggard and smelled of dank smoke. It had been a long night already.
“Thanks for calling me.”
“You’re all over the place, aren’t you?” Ricky said. A streak of grime ran down the side of his face.
“Call it what you will,” she said.
Cooper started right in, ignoring the sniping. He told her how they’d gotten in to look around the garage in the dripping aftermath of the fire department’s hoses. The body had been taken away by the medical examiner, and Bibi’s husband was at Glen Gen’s morgue, which was situated in the hospital’s basement. “The crime techs are going over the scene,” Cooper wound up. “We’ve checked with some of the neighbors. So far nothing, but there are some security cameras.”
“We should be interviewing him here right now,” snapped Ricky.
Interviewing, or interrogating? It didn’t take a crystal ball to see where Richards stood on what kind of scene they’d just witnessed. His aggressive tone said it all. The mystery was how he’d hooked up with Haynes again. Her heart stuttered when she considered maybe he was being considered for detective.
“Do you have a problem with me?” Mac confronted him. She was tired of her ex-partner’s needling.
He spread his hands and shrugged. Haynes shot him a look, then said to Mac again, “We could talk in the morning.”
“We could do that,” she agreed tightly. “But I’m here now.” She shook her head. “I was just talking to Bibi about Rayne Sealy. Two deaths so close together . . . Any chance this was an accident?”
Ricky snorted and Haynes said, “We’ve got a long road ahead before we have any answers.”
“Foul play,” said Mac.
“I’m remembering that you quit the department,” said Ricky.
She spread her hands. “Bibi Engstrom asked me to look into Rayne’s disappearance and subsequent death, and now Bibi’s gone, too.”
“We don’t have any evidence of homicide,” said Haynes. She heard the “yet” that he didn’t utter. “Forensics’ll let us know what they find.”
“Why do you think it’s homicide?” Ricky demanded.
“I didn’t say it was. It’s just the timing. I know her marriage was unhappy. She wasn’t shy about talking about it. But it’s only been a few weeks . . . days, really, since Rayne’s accident, if that’s what it was. I’d like more answers.”
Ricky started to say something, but Haynes cut in, “Tell me again what kind of investigation you were working on for Bibi.”
Ricky heaved a huge sigh, in that “here we go again” way he had when he was bored with a subject. Mac ignored him and reiterated how she’d met Bibi at Portland State and then run into her again at the Coffee Club. How Bibi had requested she search for Rayne, ignoring Mac’s assertion that she was no longer part of the police force. How she’d reluctantly taken on the job, and how Bibi believed that Rayne’s ex, Seth Keppler, was somehow involved, and how Mac’s subsequent tailing of Seth and his current partner, Patti Warner, hadn’t turned up anything suspicious. She purposely left out running into Taft and his own interest in Seth. She finished with, “I didn’t talk to Bibi about much of anything else. Like I said, she mentioned the shape of her marriage some, but most of our conversation was about Rayne.”
“Nothing else?” Ricky demanded.
“Not that I can think of.”
“Shadowing Keppler was the extent of your job for Bibi?” Haynes asked.
Mac hesitated, wondering if there was a condemnation in there somewhere, but she decided to take him at his word and admitted that yes, so far, but that she’d learned Rayne had other ex-boyfriends and she was planning on looking into the list, just hadn’t started yet.
“You’re acting like a private . . . dick,” accused Richards.
“I have an obligation to a friend. Bibi didn’t believe Rayne died from taking a selfie.”
At that moment Haynes’s cell buzzed and he looked at it before answering, “Haynes.” Listening, he shot Mackenzie a look she couldn’t interpret, then said, “Send him back.”
“Who?” Richards asked as Haynes clicked off.
“Jesse Taft.”
“Jesus!” Ricky declared. To Mac, he accused, “You did this!”
“I didn’t ask him to come.”
“But you called him,” he insisted.
She could hardly deny it. “Yes,” she admitted.
“All right,” Haynes interrupted. “We’ll hear what he has to say.”
Mackenzie glowered at Richards. She was half amazed, half glad that Taft was showing up.
They all fell silent and a few minutes later Taft pushed through the door into the squad room. He looked around himself and said conversationally, “Never been back here.”
Richards snorted his disdain.
Taft regarded him with a neutral look that could have meant anything. Detective Haynes wasn’t waiting to find out and stepped in before more could be said. “You know about the fire and Bibi Engstrom’s death.”
“Yes. Where’s her husband?” Taft asked.
“The morgue,” said Haynes. “Mackenzie was just telling us how Bibi had asked her to investigate Rayne Sealy’s death.”
“Were you on that case?” Ricky demanded of Taft.
“No. But I knew Laughlin was.”
“Yeah?” Ricky looked from Taft to Mackenzie and back again. Mac could practically see the wheels turning in his mind.
“I told her I’d help her, if she needed it. Looks like she might need it. So I came.”
“Bibi first came to me because she thought I was still a cop,” Mac reminded them all. She was feeling raw and wanted answers, maybe answers no one had, but she needed to be in the forefront.
“Did you ever tell her you quit?” That was from Ricky, ever belligerent where Mac was concerned.
“Immediately, when she asked me to find Rayne.”
“You said you were friends, and it had never come up before?” Ricky glanced toward Haynes with a look of disbelief on his face.
Mac said carefully, “I thought I made it clear that we weren’t that close.”
“Trying to distance yourself from her now?” Ricky tried to intimidate her by staring her down.
“Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. Officer Mac’s now under suspicion?” Taft drawled.
“No,” Haynes said succinctly to him.
Taft added, “Maybe she should have a lawyer.”
“Laughlin is not under investigation. Everybody take a step back,” said Haynes. To Taft, he added, “Mackenzie told you about Bibi Engstrom’s death tonight?”
Taft nodded. “Was the garage fire purposely set?”
“We don’t know yet,” Ricky was quick to answer.
“Carbon monoxide? Car running? Source of ignition?” Taft looked from one to the other of them.
“We don’t know yet,” Ricky repeated with an edge.
The adrenaline that had been fueling Mackenzie’s energy was dropping off. She wanted to collapse, maybe even cry. She’d experienced the same sag on the job during especially stressful moments and had learned ways to cope with it, but this felt different. Though she and Bibi hadn’t been close friends, they had been friends, of a sort. And now she was gone. She remembered the hollow look on Haynes’s face after delivering news of Rayne’s death to her mother and sister. Hard duties. Emotions could be contained but they existed. She fought for a neutral expression.
Taft asked Haynes, “Got any suspicions?”
“No,” Ricky snapped. “Like I said—”
Haynes interrupted, “Bibi’s body was in the car. Everything was burned and wet. An errant spark could have set off the carbon monoxide. Could be a suicide. Could have been deliberately set to look like suicide. Could be a homicide. If it was an accident, I’ll be surprised.” Ricky looked at Haynes in stupefaction as Haynes added, “Thanks, Richards. It was above and beyond to join me at the scene. I can handle things from here.”
Ricky’s face flooded red. Mackenzie had seen that before, when her partner thought he had everything under control and then was suddenly blindsided. He said, “I don’t mind,” each word bitten off.
Taft was looking from Haynes to Ricky and back again. Like Mackenzie, he was watching the power play with interest.
“We’re about done here.” Haynes was pleasant but firm.
Ricky had no choice but to straighten up and move toward the door. He hesitated before pushing through and his gaze fell hard on Taft, as if he were the problem.
Never one to shirk from a challenge, Taft asked, “Got something you want to say to me?”
“You’ve been fired twice. I think that says it all.” With that he strong-armed his way through the door and out of the squad room.
Taft said, “Factually incorrect, as I assume he means my two stints working in law enforcement. I have been fired by clients in investigative services, however, so maybe that’s what he meant.”
“Let’s call it a night,” said Haynes. “We’ll know more when forensics gets back to us.”
“Why do you think it’s not an accident?” Mackenzie asked him.
“Seemed staged, I guess. Just a feeling more than anything.” He gave Taft a long look. “My advice to you: Don’t get in the way. There are a lot of people who share Richards’s view. You work for some shady clients. But if you learn anything, come to me first.” He swept his gaze to include Mackenzie. “You got that?”
“Yes,” said Mac.
Taft gave Haynes a curt nod.
Ten minutes later Mackenzie and Taft were outside the station and heading to their cars, each at opposite ends of the parking lot. Mac was walking to her SUV, then stopped in her tracks. She turned back and started to head inside the station once more, but saw that Taft had slowed his steps and was watching her.
She walked toward him. “I have something I need to do.”
“You’re going to talk to Haynes some more?”
“No. I have to go back in and talk to somebody else. Nothing to do with this. Thanks for . . . coming, but I really didn’t need you.”
“Didn’t you?” In the darkness, with his face half turned away, she couldn’t see if he was joking or not. “Who are you talking to?”
“Not your business.”
“True. But who are you talking to?”
“Good night, Taft.” Mackenzie headed for the door just as Cooper Haynes’s Explorer pulled around from the back of the department where the city rides and the staff’s personal vehicles were parked. He held up a hand in goodbye to them as he left.
“Good night, Officer Laughlin . . .” said Taft.
She found herself gritting her teeth as she headed back into the department. Colleen was just going off duty and another woman was taking her place.
“The Battle-axe?” Mackenzie asked Colleen and the other woman, whose nametag read: JANA.
Jana glanced at Mackenzie with alarm and looked to Colleen for direction. Colleen nodded and said she would remind her that Mackenzie wanted to talk to her. As she walked through the door to dispatch, the new woman gave Mac a curt nod. Mac was pretty sure if she tried to explain that political correctness wasn’t the issue she would be coolly ignored.
Barbara Erdlich, the Battle-axe, followed Colleen back into reception with brows lifted, headset in place. Mac said, “I wanted to talk to you about Katy?”
“Katy Keegan?”
Mac nodded. “You took her place.”
There was something in the Battle-axe’s eyes that said she’d registered the point of Mac’s questions. Mac hurriedly gave her her phone number and said to call her anytime. The Battle-axe could decide whether she wanted to wade into the he said/she said between her boss and some of the women who’d worked in his department.
By the time Mac was back outside she expected to see that Taft had gone, but no, he was leaning against the back of his Rubicon, one foot on the bumper, waiting for her.
“I don’t need a keeper,” she told him.
“You going after Bennihof?”
“You’re starting to piss me off.”
“You are.”
“Stop.” She turned toward her RAV4, but Taft was hard to put off.
“I can get you in touch with Katy.”
“I don’t need you, Taft,” she rounded on him, all the frustration of the night rising up in a wave of emotion. “Let’s get something straight. I have my own life. I have my own choices. I’m working for you. That’s it. Leave me alone.”
“Mackenzie . . .”
The fact that he said her first name stopped her cold. He’d straightened from his lounging position.
“What?” she managed.
“I’m calling off the surveillance on Keppler.”
“What?” she repeated blankly. “Why?”
“He’s in a holding pattern. I’ve got another angle I’m working.”
“What angle?”
“I’ll call you.”
“So, I’m not working?”
“Not right now.”
She watched him climb in the Rubicon, back out, and drive away. Had she just been fired? She’d just been fired!
Mac threw herself into her own SUV, then found she was shivering as she sat behind the wheel. Damn the man. He’d pushed her and she’d pushed back because she couldn’t push at whatever or whoever had killed Bibi. She wanted answers. And action. A plan forward.
To hell with Jesse James Taft.
She switched on the ignition and drove back to her mother’s house. The thought of dealing with Dan the Man was so depressing, she almost turned around and headed for a motel. Instead she pulled out her phone and looked up the numbers of nearby apartments complexes she knew in River Glen and Laurelton. Too late to do anything tonight, but she determined she would make the change tomorrow. No more living in limbo. She was taking charge of her own life. She had enough cash for first month’s rent . . . maybe last month’s, too . . . maybe . . .
Maybe you should try another police department. Laurelton?
Setting her jaw, she pulled into the driveway, thoughts awhirl. What she was going to do was follow up on Bibi Engstrom’s death, and Rayne Sealy’s, and see if there was any connection. She was off the Keppler case for Taft. Fine. Didn’t mean she couldn’t still keep after him. Maybe she should make contact. Something.
As if the universe was in tune to her needs, her phone started ringing. At nearly midnight. To her alarm, she saw it was Stephanie’s number.
“Stephanie?” she answered in a careful tone. Her stepsister who mainly texted, rarely called.
“Sorry, Mac. Didn’t mean to scare you,” she whispered, responding to Mackenzie’s tone. “Nothing bad. Just wanted you to know . . . Nolan doesn’t want me to tell, it’s so early . . . I’m pregnant! Don’t mention it to Mom. It’s kind of a surprise, but oh, my God! I’m just in disbelief. And thrilled! Yes! Isn’t it crazy! I can’t believe it. And you . . . you’re going to be an auntie!”