Hard Job Read online

  Reightman didn’t respond immediately, trying to think how to best frame the Chief’s other provision. “Yes, there was. He wants me to be sure I really want you as my permanent partner. He thinks I might be rushing into things because of Jackson’s death.”

  Jones folded up the white paper his pork and coleslaw lunch had been wrapped in and then stuffed it into the white carryout bag. “I think that sounds pretty fair, too. That’ll give us time to figure out if we can work as well together as I hope we will.” He started to toss the bag in the trash and Reightman stopped him.

  “Don’t do it! I don’t want to be smelling old pork and slaw juice for the next two days. They only dump the trash around here twice a week, and the next day for that is Sunday. Take it to the breakroom and put it in the trash there – far away from my desk.”

  “Yes, ma’am! I hear and obey,” he saluted her sharply. “I could use some of the sludge they call coffee anyway.

  As soon as he walked away, Reightman picked up her phone and dialed Toby. After she told him they were all clear and to post the ad, they agreed that Tom Anderson would contact Mitchell directly about getting his place ready. She had just finished the call when she noticed Jones coming up from behind her.

  “What’s cookin’?” Jones plopped down in his chair and looked across the desk.

  “Oh, nothing much. I was just checking in with Toby Bailey and giving him a short update.”

  “Hmmm…” Jones eyed her closely while playing with the toothpick hanging out of his mouth. She looked away and scrolled down her contact list.

  “What?” she asked as she put the phone back down into her purse.

  “Why do I get the impression you’re not telling me everything about your call with Bailey?”

  “Probably, because I’m not.” He took the chewed toothpick out of his mouth and dropped it in the trash. “Look, Jones,” she waited until he looked up at her. “There’re a whole lot of balls in the air right now and I’m trying to keep them separate so they don’t hit each other. There are very few – and I mean very few– people who have all the pieces. I’m going to keep it that way as long as possible.”

  “But, I’m your partner. How am I supposed to help if I don’t know what’s going on?”

  “That’s a more than fair question. I guess you can help by…just keeping you own balls spinning.”

  Jones grinned at her last comment. “That’s almost too good of a line to resist – but I will.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out his keys.

  “Where are you off to?” Reightman asked as he stood up and pushed his chair under the desk.

  “I’m just going to spin my balls.” He chuckled at the glare she shot him. “I’ve got a few things to follow-up on at a couple of the pawn shops and I thought I’d start before it gets too late. Is there something else you need for me to do? The pawn shops can wait.”

  “No, go on and follow-up on that. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  “Now, I just can’t resist that one – after all, it is Friday and what man doesn’t want to get lucky to start the weekend?”

  She groaned. “You’re a menace, Detective Jones. Go on – get out of here.”

  He walked around the desk and then leaned over toward her. “Reightman, would you have told me what was going on with Bailey if I was Sam Jackson?”

  She flinched at his words and looked up at him, hurt plain in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he saw her expression. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed, rubbing her temples. “I get your point though.”

  Jones nodded. “I’ll see you later. Call me if you need something.”

  After he’d gone, Reightman looked over at his desk. “If you were Sam Jackson, I wouldn’t have to tell you. You’d already know.” Almost immediately, she felt guilty. “That’s not fair, Reightman. Jones can’t help it he’s new and hasn’t learned to read your mind yet – and you are keeping him out of the loop.” She wrestled with that, and then had another, more insightful thought. “Most of all, your new, provisional partner can’t help the fact he’s not Sam.”

  

  Toby and Mitchell met Tom Anderson at Mitchell’s place early that afternoon. Tom walked through the front of the house and then turned to Toby. “Where will you be doing whatever you’re going to be doing?”

  “I thought I’d set up in the guest bedroom. There’s not much stuff in there and we can move most of it out if we need to.”

  Tom followed the two men to the back of the house and gave it a thorough inspection. “This is a pretty good choice – only one window and there’s a big climbing rose covering almost half of it. Anyone who tries to come in through there would get pretty scraped up in the process.” He looked over the assorted pieces of furniture in the room and then made a suggestion. “If I were you, I’d leave most of this stuff right where it is. It will look more authentic if you do – like you use it for other things when you’re not pulling in tricks.”

  “I’m not pulling in tricks.”

  Tom Anderson looked at him sternly. “Look, Reightman has filled me in on what you’re planning to do. Whether you want to admit it or not, you are pulling in tricks. The sooner you reconcile yourself to that, the better off you’re going to be.”

  Toby’s stomach gave a lurch as he realized Tom Anderson had a point. “I guess you’re right, sir.”

  “Yes, I am, and stop with the ‘sir’ crap. It makes me feel like an old geezer, or like I should be wearing black leather motorcycle chaps and a pair of aviator glasses – and absolutely nothing else.” Tom thought about those possibilities with a reflective smile on his face. “I wonder if my wife would like that.” He shook himself out of his momentary fantasy and got back on track. “Call me either Tom, or Anderson – everyone else does.”

  “Okay, Anderson. You should call me Toby.”

  “See, that’s so much better,” Tom approved. “Now the other reason I’d leave the stuff positioned like it is now, is because it will help hide any wires. I’m going to use mostly wireless technology, but I want one wired mic for backup.” He pulled out the small hutch desk and looked behind it. “Are you going to use a table or just the bed?”

  Toby looked toward the full sized bed and tried not to think about why he might be using the bed. “I’m going to use a table. I brought a portable model, and it’s out in the living room. I thought I’d set it up after you’re done.”

  “Alright, I have an idea about that, too.” He looked at his watch and frowned. “We need to get this show on the road. Why don’t you two move the dresser and this desk out from the wall and I’ll go get my stuff out of the van. Mitchell, do you mind if I drill into the walls? I’ll try to keep it small.”

  “Sure, Anderson. But keep it to as few places as possible. I’ll need to patch them when this is done. Otherwise, I’ll never get my deposit back when I decide to move out of here.”

  Toby and Mitchell moved the furniture as requested, and soon Tom busy at work. “Where are you and Reightman going to be while Toby makes like a ‘working’ boy?”

  “Detective Reightman thought she’d set up in the garage. I’m going to be in the next room over. Since the only bathroom is in the hall, there shouldn’t be a reason for anyone to go in there and I’ll be closer to Toby if there’s trouble.”

  “That’s good thinking, but you’re going to have to get up in the attic and help feed the wire over to the garage. I don’t do attics.”

  A couple of hours later, they were finished and the furniture was back into position. “Okay, let me test this out. I’m going to the room next door. You two talk normally, although try to vary the pitch and the volume level a few times.” He gave Toby an amused grin. “Since I’m not going to be in on the action, go ahead and make some hot, moaning sounds. That way, I’ll get a preview and won’t feel left out.” Toby blushed bright pink as Tom left the room.

  “Okay, fellas – action!” Tom cal
led from the next room.

  Toby and Mitchell talked, modulating their voices through different volumes and ranges, stopping when Tom wasn’t satisfied with the reception. He made a couple of adjustments to the equipment. “The wireless isn’t picking up as well in the garage as well as it should. There must be some metal or something in the walls causing the interference,” he explained. “Okay, let’s try it again.” A couple of more tries and they were done. “Toby, go get that massage table and I’ll show you what I have up my sleeve for that baby.”

  Toby carried in the table and set it up. Tom dug around in his bag and pulled out a small electrical device. He adjusted the settings and applied some Velcro to the back and applied the coordinating portion of Velcro to the underside of the table, on the right side near the top. “This little beauty is a panic device – like they use in high-end stores. You push this button and it’ll send a signal to Mitchell and Reightman to let them know something bad’s going down. It won’t make any sound in here, so no one will know you pushed it.” He handed the device to Toby. “The big rectangular button in the middle is what you push. Usually, people wear these on their belts or on their waistband, but I guess under the circumstance, you won’t have a belt or waistband to attach that critter too. So, stick it to the Velcro under the table and let’s test it out. Try to get used to pushing the button from several different positions. Who knows where your arm might be?” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows before walking out of the room.

  Toby tested the panic button several times, trying to get used to reaching for it unobtrusively from several places around the table. Anderson came back into the room and verified it had worked. He looked around the room one more time and, as a second thought, pulled another panic button out of the bag and attached it to the mattress right under the headboard. “Just in case your party of two moves,” he explained. Once again they tested it, and Tom declared he was satisfied. “I think I’ve done all I can here,” he said as he packed the tools back into his bag. “As per Detective Reightman’s instructions, I’ll want to do the spa tomorrow, if possible. What time do you close on Saturdays?”

  “The last appointment is at three o’clock, so you could start as early as four-thirty. Everyone should be long gone by then.”

  “Let’s plan on me meeting you around five then. I’m going to bring Laurie so she can get some on the job experience.”

  “Thanks for your help, Anderson.” Toby held out his hand to shake.

  Tom took it and gave it a firm squeeze. “Be careful. If you have the slightest feeling your safety is compromised, press one of those buttons, okay?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  After leaving Mitchell’s place, they headed back to Toby’s apartment for dinner. Mitchell firmly overruled any more tuna casserole or spaghetti dinners, so they ordered a couple of pizzas. After finishing off the food, Toby got out his laptop and sat it on the coffee table. He opened it and logged into the email account he had set up for just this purpose and waited for the mail server to download.

  “Oh shit!”

  Mitchell came out of the kitchen where he’d been putting away the leftovers. “Don’t worry about it, Toby. Just because you haven’t gotten a response yet doesn’t mean anything. You just posted the ad early this afternoon.”

  “That’s not the problem, Mitchell. The problem is, I have twenty-two responses. “

  “Already?” Mitchell asked, astonished.

  “Yeah – oh wait. Another one just came through. I now have twenty-three.”

  Mitchell came over to the sofa and looked at the emails waiting for a response. “Do you have the copies of the photos Detective Reightman gave you?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Toby went to the back room and come back carrying a folder. He placed it on the coffee table and took a seat back on the sofa in front of the computer.

  Mitchell took a seat beside him and picked up the folder. “When you open the photos, I’ll look through these to see if there’s a match.” Mitchell’s voice was suddenly serious and professional. “Don’t reply to any of them before we’ve been through them all. If there’s a match, we need to call Detective Reightman before proceeding.”

  Toby leaned in toward the laptop and opened the first email from nastyboy42. “I can already tell he’s not a match. There weren’t any Asians in the group.” He read the message and looked at the user name. “He certainly is a nasty boy! He says he’s forty-two, but that was at least ten years ago. I think we can move on.”

  Toby worked through the emails as Mitchell checked the submitted photos against those in the file folder. Before they made it half way through, a small chiming sound singled another response had been received. Toby rolled his eyes as Mitchell checked for match and then they studied the final results.

  “Out of twenty-four response we have two matches: Mr. Carlton Brookmeyer, whose father owns that big bank, and Officer Fred Lamont. Let’s call Detective Reightman. I can already tell you she’s not going to be happy about Lamont.”

  She wasn’t. Toby couldn’t remember any of the words she used as having come out of her mouth before, at least not in his hearing.

  “I need to tell Chief Kelly about this, Toby, so don’t respond to him yet. We’ll probably need to get the City Attorney involved as well. I think you can go ahead and arrange something with Brookmeyer though.”

  As Reightman was speaking, another chime sounded.

  “Hang on, Detective Reightman. I just got another one.”

  He clicked on the username righteousstud9 and opened the email.

  “Is it a match?” she asked impatiently.

  Mitchell handed him a photo from the file with the name of the individual written on it. “Yes,” Toby answered.

  “Who is it?” Reightman waited.

  “Sutton Dameron.”

  “Are you positive, Toby?”

  “Yes, and so is Mitchell.”

  Reightman was silent for a moment. “Toby, I need to let Hollingfield know about him, too. Don’t respond to him either. I’m going to track down the Chief and the City Attorney and I’ll try to call you back in an hour – make it an hour and a half.”

  After she ended the call, Toby handed the photo back to Mitchell and pulled up the email from Brookmeyer. He took a deep breath and placed his hands on the keys of the laptop.

  “You can still step away from this, Toby. We’d all support you.”

  “Thanks, Mitchell, but I can’t.” Toby began to type. After a couple of exchanges, his first appointment was booked. “Well, that’s done. We’re scheduled for eight o’clock tomorrow night.”

  Mitchell got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen. Toby heard him open a beer. He didn’t come back out for a long time.

  Reightman called him back about an hour and twenty minutes later. By that time, he had received another four emails, but only one match. The match was Katherine McLarity, the Judge McLarity’s granddaughter.

  “Is everyone in this town looking to get laid tonight?” Reightman asked with sarcastically. While she ranted and raved, another email came through, also from Katherine McLarity. Toby opened the email and burst into laughter.

  “What in the hell are you laughing about?” Her exasperated tone set him off again.

  “I’m sorry about that, but I just got a second email from Ms. McLarity.”

  “What’s so damn funny about that?”

  “Well, she wrote to say she’s sorry, and hopes she didn’t inconvenience me, but she’s changed her mind. She’s decided she’s going off men, for now, and is going to stick to women for a while. She’s met a nice lady at her office, with whom she’s going to try and form an attachment.”

  The phone was dead silent, but eventually Reightman started to chuckle and snort and then broke into peals of laughter. “You’re right, that is funny! Her grandfather would have an absolute cow. I think he’d prefer knowing she was hiring men to service her needs, rather than switching to women.”

  “One thing I can say
for Katherine McLarity – she sure has good manners and writes a nice note. I wonder if I’d have received a hand written thank you note after…you know.”

  “It wouldn’t have surprised me if you had, Toby,” Reightman replied, after getting a fresh set of giggles and snorts under control. “Listen, I finally tracked down both Kelly and Hollingfield. They said to proceed with both contacts. The Chief said to be extremely cautious with Lamont and not to set him off in any way. Kelly said that was really important. Did you contact Mr. Brookmeyer?”

  “Yes. I’m supposed to meet him at eight o’clock tomorrow night.”

  There was a pause before Reightman spoke again. “We’ll be ready, Toby, I promise.” She gave him a moment to let her assurance sink in, before adding in a brisk, businesslike tone, “Reach out to both Lamont and Dameron. Try to arrange things so you meet one more tomorrow, and one on Sunday.”

  “Alright. I’ll let you know when I have everything arranged. Do you want me to call you if we get another match tonight?”

  “Why don’t we check around eleven? Anything that comes in after that can wait until tomorrow. Does that sound okay?”

  Toby agreed and sent responses to Lamont and to Dameron. By the time he talked with Reightman at eleven, he’d arranged to meet Lamont at eleven o’clock Saturday night and Dameron at seven o’clock Sunday evening. When their check-in was finished, Toby turned off his phone and closed the laptop.

  “Are you okay, Toby? Mitchell asked about twenty minutes later.

  “I guess I’ll have to be.” Toby rose from the sofa and stretched. “I could use a hug though.”

  When Mitchell didn’t reply, Toby looked in his direction, perplexed at the lack of response “Mitchell?”

  “I’m sorry, Toby, but, I told you I was stepping back.”

  “Yes, you did.” Toby nodded in understanding. His friend was now just the cop. “I think I’ll go shower.”

  Toby stood under the hot, almost scalding water, thinking about the three men he was going to try to entrap over the next two days. “Did one of you who killed Geri? Or am I still waiting to hear from the person responsible?” He leaned back into the spray, letting the water spill over his face and down his chest. When the water began to cool, he turned off the shower and pulled down a towel. He dried himself, and combed his hair. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t understand what he saw in his reflection, and wasn’t sure he wanted to understand.