Chapter Three
Micah sat across from Noah inside of Petro’s, an Italian sub place that was only three blocks away from Seattle’s 19th precinct. While he pecked at the keyboard of Augustina’s small laptop, Noah sipped some tea, and his fingers toyed with a menu that was falling apart.
“Do you think we’re going to find anything on there?” Noah asked, and smiled at a waitress that flitted by.
“It’s very possible. I’ve found out a ton of stuff about a case from the victim’s belongings. I actually found out that what we suspected to be a homicide was a suicide. The note was tucked away in a bunch of junk. He was a hoarder. I intend to go through her emails and spreadsheets to see if there was anyone she might have been afraid of. Or if she had gotten into any confrontations that she didn’t want to share with her colleagues.”
The waitress stopped by their table and slid two Philly cheesesteak subs in front of each of them. Noah ripped into his hoagie and appeared thoughtful as he chewed on bits of cheesy beef and baguette.
It had been one week since they had been assigned Augustina’s case. Micah wasn’t worried, maybe another week and they would have a solid suspect, and then maybe a few days after that, an arrest would be made. Noah was starting to worry. Light, but charming stubble was starting to form on his chin, and dark circles were developing underneath his eyes.
Micah accessed Augustina’s email and scrolled back to two weeks before her death. He noticed an email referring her to the new bookseller’s program, a program confirmation, an email chain entitled RETIREMENT. The recipient was Courtney Hanks. Micah clicked on that and scanned the email. It read:
Dear Augustina,
Thank you so much for getting back to me! I thought it was just a rumor that you would be retiring, and I could not be more honored that you want me to take your place. Let’s have lunch on the 18th.
I hope your retirement party is a blast!
Micah snorted. It was certainly deadly.
Noah belched loudly as he finished his sub, and his eyes flickered to Micah’s.
“Why haven’t you eaten?”
“I found an email from the librarian who was supposed to be taking Augustina’s place. They were going to have lunch three days after she was murdered.”
“That sounds kind of promising. Are you going to eat your sub?”
“Yes, I’m going to eat it. Are you stress eating? Have you been sleeping?”
“I didn’t know that you cared so much. I’m flattered,” Noah said, dryly.
“Don’t make everything weird, Noah. You just aren’t looking your best lately. Do you want to take this home and look over it tonight? I have a date.”
Noah raised an eyebrow. “A date?” He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “With a woman?”
“Of course.”
“Has that always been the case for you? Just women?”
Micah’s head hurt thinking about the questions he had barely restrained himself from asking Noah last week.
“You’re probing. I’ve only ever dated women, yes.”
Noah scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll do the email surfing. I might want to do some more questioning later, too. I hope your date goes all right, though.”
“Just all right?”
***
Noah reclined on the sofa and poured his third glass of wine. His eyes repeatedly scanned Courtney’s email. ‘Courtney Hank.... is it really of any significance that her replacement died before they were supposed to meet? Of course it is, I know that, but I don’t know if I can afford to spend time on this if Courtney really is a dead end.’
He sighed. ‘It’s all over the news, that Augustina has died but maybe Courtney doesn’t know?’
He copied and pasted Courtney’s email and pasted it in the recipient field in his own email client. He began typing:
Good Evening:
I’m Detective Noah Bailey. I work for the 19th precinct of the Seattle Police Department. I’m emailing you regarding your relationship with Augustina Meadows. We believe that Augustina’s death was a murder, and any information you can provide on who might have wanted to hurt her would be appreciated.
Have a good night,
Detective Noah Bailey
His phone vibrated as he pressed send and it was a notification from Jeremy. Although Jeremy still hadn’t come out to his family or anyone in his life, he was insistent that Noah come back to him so that they could try again.
I’m past him now. I just want someone new that remotely has his shit together. Tired of losers. But Micah seems comfortable with having fun while he’s on a case. He’s on a date. After all of the questions he asked me the other day, I thought that he might not entirely be against exploring who he is. Maybe he isn’t against it. Maybe I’m drunk enough to hope his date doesn’t go well. I’m certainly too drunk to work now.
Noah shut the laptop and set it on the coffee table. He lay down and closed his eyes. His hand stayed glued to his phone as he stopped fighting rest and slipped into a deep sleep.