Diner Impossible, page 22
“Where’s the surveillance footage from the parking lot that night?”
He hemmed. And hawed. “Well, I’m not required to show you that.”
“You are if you want the uniform back.”
“There are signs posted in your lot, claiming you have video cameras,” Roxy said.
“Do they work or not?” I asked.
Pursing his lips, he stared at his desktop. “No. When they stopped working, I never fixed them. Too expensive.”
Crap. There went that theory. “Then let me see the laser tag room.”
His gaze ran into mine. “What are you hoping to find?”
“A clue, Captain Smith.”
“Any reason why you don’t want us looking up there?” Roxy asked. “Hiding something?”
“Certainly not. Come with me.” He strutted ahead of us, past the concession stand. The three workers hadn’t moved. Maybe this was why he craved respect from his Starfleet crew. Because no one at his theater seemed to give him any.
Up the stairs and through a set of locked double doors, he led us to a large rectangular room filled with plastic pylons and short, walled barricades. “Take your time, I have nothing to hide. I do, however, have work to do. Let me know when you’re finished so I can lock up.”
He all but pranced away.
“What an asshole,” Roxy mumbled. “Just tell me what we’re looking for?”
I turned to her. “No idea.” We flipped all the lights on in the laser arena, but two had crapped out, leaving one corner dark. As I inspected a plastic pylon, the kid from the front desk shuffled into the room and propped the door up with his bony shoulder.
“Old man said I have to keep an eye on you guys. You almost done, or what?”
“What,” Roxy barked.
Together we combed over every square inch of space. We turned the main lights off so we could get a good idea of what it looked like during the tag game.
“Nothing,” Roxy said.
“Let’s hit the break room.” I walked by the kid, and he blew out an annoyed breath, pushing off the door and following us down the hall.
“How long have the cameras been broken?” I asked.
He shrugged. “A few weeks, maybe a couple months—just after the parking lot lights started working again. And he wouldn’t fix those until the city sent him a summons. He’s only does it when he has to. I don’t know what you’re looking for,” he said to Roxy, who peered into an empty trashcan.
I stopped. “Something flat, about yay high.” I held up my hands. “Wrapped in a blanket.”
“Like that guy the other night?”
Roxy stopped kicking the soda machine. “What? What guy? What night?”
“The night those Trek nerds were here. Since the cameras don’t work, boss wants us to do a sweep of the parking lot every couple of hours.”
“What did you see?” I asked.
“Some guy getting a big blanket from his trunk. Then he walked to another car and put it in that trunk.”
“Was he dressed like a Trek guy or a Klingon?” I asked.
“Trek. Can we go now?”
“What kind of car did he have?” Roxy asked.
“I don’t know. It was dark. I didn’t care.”
Roxy and I did a cursory run through of the break room and both bathrooms. The only thing we discovered was that according to the graffiti artist from the men’s room, Amy Busby was a slut.
We walked back down the stairs, and I made another stab at the kid. “Describe what he looked like. Tall, short, fat, thin.”
He sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Man, I don’t know. Thin. Whatever. I need to get back.” He walked to the ticket booth with as much enthusiasm as he probably did to gym class.
“Well, that narrows it down for us,” I said. “Starfleet took the uniform.”
“But where is it now and who took it?” Roxy asked, popping a third piece of gum into her mouth.
“That’s the enduring question.”
Chapter 25
We hit the road, but since it was close to six, I didn’t have time to stop by Club Saturn. And I was going to have to bring Roxy with me to Captain Bentley’s house. If Hardass didn’t like it, too bad.
Captain Charles Bentley lived just north of Apple Tree Boulevard, in an established neighborhood. I parked along the curb and took stock of the house. Nothing fancy. A seventies ranch with brick exterior and a small yard. The neighborhood looked middleclass. The homes were definitely older, but well cared for.
Andre had parked in the drive and emerged from his SUV as soon as I turned off my engine. When he glanced at Roxy and her rainbow lollypop dress, his eyes flickered shut for a millisecond.
“Miss Strickland, what is your colorful friend doing here?”
“I’m Roxy.” She held out her hand. He stared at it for an eternity before giving it a half shake.
“Roxy’s okay.” I turned to her. “Captain Bentley has lung cancer. We only have thirty minutes with him.”
Her jaw stopped chomping. “From smoking?”
“Yes,” Andre said. “And don’t mention it unless he does. He’s a very proud man. If I feel this is too much for him, we leave. Understood?”
Rox and I nodded then tailed him to the front stoop.
A tall man, bald and emaciated, answered the door. His skin was grayish, and his sunken cheeks bore evidence of recent weight loss. As did his plaid shirt and navy slacks, which, while neat and pressed, swamped him. Though his upper lip had been frozen into a permanent scowl, his mouth split into a grin at the sight of Andre. “How you doing, Thomas?”
Andre actually smiled. “Can’t complain, sir. Thank you for taking the time to see us. This is Rose Strickland and her friend, Roxy.”
Captain Bentley’s eyes worked their way from Roxy’s blue braids to her pink shoes. “Why do you dress like a kid? You look like that what’s her name—Pippi Longsocks, but with blue hair.”
He stepped aside. “Come on in. Take a load off.” He gestured to the tiny living room. A striped sofa backed up to formal blue curtains. The blue recliner across from the television had a permanent butt imprint. This was the captain’s chair. And nobody sat in it but him.
Fish mounted to wooden plaques hung on all four walls. The carpet was faded blue shag that showed a flattened, dirty path from the front door to the captain’s recliner.
“Would you like some coffee?” he asked. I glanced at his left hand—married. I wondered where Mrs. Bentley was.
“No thank you, sir,” Andre said. He motioned for Roxy and me to have the sofa and he stood near the door, his body ramrod straight, hands clasped behind his back.
We sat while the captain walked to the chair and slowly lowered his tall frame onto it. “Not as limber as I used to be. God-damned—pardon me, ladies—chemo has taken the piss right out of me. Now, Thomas here says you want to talk about that son of a bitch, Martin Mathers.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “He’s being detained and questioned for the murder of Delia Cummings right now.”
He threw out a rusty laugh that sounded phlegmy and was followed by a coughing fit. He grabbed a tissue and spit into it. “Good. I hope he gets a life sentence, and they stick him in Gen Pop. Convicts will probably kill him in the first week. Bastard.”
“What exactly happened between you two?” Roxy asked.
“He cheated me out of my pension,” he said. “I’ve had to do a reverse mortgage on this house to pay for my medical bills, that’s what happened.”
“Do you mind explaining from the beginning, sir?” Andre asked.
Bentley leaned his head back. “Three years ago, some of my officers caught a drug dealer selling pot and pills right across from the high school. He wasn’t the big fish, but he was a decent catch. Mathers, on the other hand, wanted me to cut him loose. I said no, let the PA cut him loose. Our job was to stop the bad guys. I suspected Mathers was on the take. Too many suspects were either given a slap on the wrist or let off altogether. That David Ashby was in on it too, working it out with Judge Keeler. All of them live a hell of a lot better than they should on a public servant’s salary. God, they make me sick.” He cast his eyes to his loose wedding band and twirled it around his finger. “Before I knew it, not only had they let the drug dealer go, I was charged with taking bribes and obstructing justice. Suddenly my bank account had a five-thousand-dollar deposit. They framed me. Ashby told me that if I left without making a scene, they wouldn’t press charges and all I’d lose was my pension.
“My wife, God rest her, was dealing with complications from diabetes. I didn’t want to put any more stress on her, so I quit. Now she’s gone and here I am. Dying. I got nothing left for my kid. All he’s going to get are those damn fish you see on the wall.”
“How do you know Keeler was in on it?” I asked.
“Because they worked together. Mathers would either let the perp go or if it got to court, Ashby would plead it down to some ridiculous charge and Keeler would give parole. Not one of them gave a damn about sending the bad guys to jail. They did everything they could to let them off. Unless the thug wouldn’t pay up. Dirty. That’s what those three are.” He started coughing again.
I nudged Roxy’s leg and stood. Captain Bentley couldn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know.
Once he stopped hacking, I smiled. “Thank you so much for your time.”
Then the front door opened and Jason Hall, sometimes bartender and all-around pain in the ass, walked through the door. He took one look at Roxy and me and strode toward us.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He glanced at the captain. “Why are they bothering you, Dad?”
“Hey, kid,” Bentley said, “they’re my guests. Now act like your mother taught you some manners.”
Roxy stepped forward. “Oh, so now you recognize me?”
“They were at the club the other night,” Jason said, “asking questions about Delia Cummings.”
“And now they’re asking about Mathers. Sit down, Jason, and stop itching for a fight.”
The bluster left him, but his eyes were still wary. “Why are you bothering my dad about all this? He’s sick.”
“It’s all right, kid. I told Andre they could come.”
Jason glanced by the door where Andre still stood at attention.
I resumed my seat. “Why were you at the funeral home and why is your last name Hall instead of Bentley?”
Roxy flopped down next to me, crossed her arms and legs, and popped her gum as she gave Jason the evil eye. “Yeah. What she said.”
“He’s my stepson,” Bentley said. “Been raising him since he was a baby.”
Jason, dressed in tight jeans and a t-shirt, ran one palm over his head, lifting his free hand toward the ceiling. “Delia was a pain, but I’d known her for years. She died in such a horrible way, I just wanted to pay my respects. Satisfied?”
“In the week before her death, she had an argument with a man at her condo. Was that you?” I asked.
Bentley glanced at his son. “I told you to leave that girl alone. I may not be at the station anymore, but I’ve kept my ear to the ground. She was a nasty piece of work and Mathers used her to collect information on everyone.”
“Exactly,” Jason said. “She could find the information to clear your name, Dad.”
Bentley breathed a tired sigh and rubbed his face. “Jase, we’ve been over this. It doesn’t matter. Even if they reinstated my pension tomorrow, it’s not going to bring your mom back, and I still have cancer. I’m just glad I stuck around long enough to see Mathers get what he deserves.”
Jason wasn’t a jerk. He was an adult child who was about to lose his remaining parent. And I’d bet anything the reason he had such a spotty work record was because he took care of his dad.
“Were you the one arguing with Delia that night, Jason?” I asked.
“Yeah. I was trying to get her to dig through the police chief’s personal files and find evidence to get my dad’s pension reinstated. But she was loyal to Mathers even though he was pissed she was pregnant. Told her to get an abortion. She’d already had a miscarriage, though. The night I went to her house, I caught her crying about it.” He gave a little laugh. “She was mad because I saw her at a weak moment. She always tried to act so tough, you know?”
My eyes drifted toward Andre then back to Jason Hall. I stood and tucked the borrowed gray clutch under my arm. “I’m sorry about Delia.” I walked over to the Captain and held out my hand. “Thank you for taking the time to see us, sir.”
He started to stand, but I shook my head. “We’ll see ourselves out.”
He began to have yet another coughing fit. Covering his mouth with one hand, he waved with the other.
At the door, I glanced back and saw Jason rubbing his dad’s shoulder.
Outside on the concrete walk, Andre turned to me. Fine mist covered his glasses. “What do you think, Miss Strickland?”
“Jason Hall just fell off my suspect list.”
“You seem to make snap judgments without a lot of facts. What if he lied about his relationship with Delia? They could have been lovers.”
“Is that what you really think?” I asked.
“It’s worth checking out.” He looked toward the street, where the lights outlined the drizzle gently falling to the pavement. “I checked into the electronic list from the lock box on Delia Cummings’ condo. Julia Baxter had used her e-key to enter the home one month ago. I informed the detective in charge of the case. He wasn’t interested in hearing my theories.” Something in his normally controlled voice sounded different.
“Did you get into trouble?” I asked.
“Let’s just say I wasn’t awarded for my initiative. Keep me posted if you find anything new.” He nodded at Roxy. “You and your friend stay safe.”
Chapter 26
In real life, K’Nera AKA Melissa Sue Johnson, was an HR rep for a national office supply chain. She lived right on Huntingford’s dividing line, between the upper crust and the lower half. Her three-bedroom house was situated in a newer subdivision of small raised ranches.
I’d stopped to pick up Ax and Dale on the way. As one, we all got out of the car and ran to her front door. The rain had picked up and fell in heavy, cold drops. I shivered in Jacks’ shoes and watched my breath visibly form a frosty cloud.
Ax rang the doorbell and as we waited, I glanced over at Rox. She was hanging tough. Getting her out of the apartment and focused on something other than Tariq was a good idea.
I didn’t recognize the woman who answered the front door, but I recognized her voice. Out of Klingon gear, Melissa Sue was pretty. She had a voluptuous figure and an asymmetrical bob of brown hair. No ridgey forehead either.
Her mouth dropped when she saw Dale. “What are you doing here?”
He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet on the wet porch. “Rose insisted.”
Melissa’s eyes drifted over him before dropping. “Come on in.”
Delicious, homey scents escaped the kitchen, making my stomach rumble. Those six chicken nuggets hadn’t done the trick.
She took our coats and hung them in the closet. “Sit down, please.”
Her house was lovely. Dark, hard wood floors, old dressers and chests congregated with modern furniture, giving it a cozy, country vibe. She’d laid appetizers and wine out on the trunk that doubled as a coffee table.
We all huddled on the sofa while Melissa Sue balanced on the edge of a comfy-looking red chair. Awkward silence descended. Finally, I jumped right in.
“Melissa Sue, why don’t I help you with dinner?”
“Yeah, okay.” She pointed to the tray of food. “Everyone, help yourselves to wine and cheese. Everything should be ready in fifteen minutes.”
In her small, but well-equipped kitchen, she shot me a glance. “I can’t believe you brought Dale here and didn’t tell me. Ask your questions while I mash the potatoes.” At the tiny butcher block island, she set about loading the cooked spuds with butter, salt, and real cream. Then smashed them all to hell.
“I talked to Sid about your breakup,” I said. “He’s still heart-broken. And angry.”
She nodded. “I know. I never meant to hurt him. I was going to go through with the wedding, even though I wasn’t in love with him. I’m not getting any younger. I just wanted to settle down, have a couple of kids, raise a family. We have so much in common, I thought we could make it work.”
Melissa grabbed a large serving spoon from the counter next to the sink and scraped the sides of the bowl. Adding a little more cream, she mashed some more.
“Then that thing with Dale, it took me by surprise. We’d been to a KAW meeting and after everyone else left, we were still talking. And then we stopped talking. That was our first time together. It was so damn hot.” A little smile hovered around her lips.
I tried to stop the visual that was running through my head. Too bad I didn’t have that kind of will power. “I have absolutely no right to ask, but were you guys still in costume?”
“Oh yeah,” she said, nodding vigorously. “It was rough and feral.” She stared at the dishwasher, lost in the memory. “But, when Sid caught us, we ended it.” She glanced at me and winced. “Afterward, Dale and I just felt too guilty to get together. Now Sid ignores me. And Dale won’t look at me either. Here I am, all alone.”
“Do you think Sid could have taken the uniform?”
She quit murdering the potatoes. “I doubt it. We KAWs have a sense of humor about dressing up and snarling at people. It’s fun. But the SPuRTs—to them this is serious business. They have to take classes and prove their worth. No matter how angry he is, I doubt Sid would ever damage his reputation within Starfleet.” She checked the timer and shut it off. “Grab the meatloaf out of the oven, would you?”
I donned the oven mitts that looked like Star Trek insignias and removed the tangy-smelling meatloaf. Melissa Sue led the way to the table and set two extra plates while I placed the meat on a trivet.
If what she said was true, then who in Starfleet would risk their reputation to steal the uniform? They may have a code, but just like the Chief of Police, some people thought they were above the rules.
