8:40 A.M.
Miranda found Buddy in his office. He was leaning back in his chair, boots propped on his desk, reading the newspaper.
She tapped on the door. “Chief, you have a moment?”
He waved her in. “Does it look like I have a moment?” Grinning, he set aside the paper and brought his feet to the floor with a thud. “Just catching up on what’s happening in New Orleans and Baton Rouge. We are blessed to live in Harmony, that I know for sure.”
She closed the door behind her, took one of the chairs in front of his desk, and looked him in the eyes. “You sent Jones with Jake this morning. Why?”
“You were otherwise occupied. I thought Jones was a good call.”
“Am I lead on this case?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Are you sure? No second thoughts? Because now’s the time to share them.”
He frowned. “You’re my most seasoned detective; this is a big case. No second thoughts, Miranda.”
“Then Jones should have been my call. Not yours.”
He narrowed his eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, Detective Rader, every call is my call.” He tapped his chest. “See that sign on the door? It reads Chief Cadwell.”
“With all due respect, Chief, I should have been alerted to phone records having been acquired. As lead I should be aware of every piece of evidence as it comes in. At the very least, you should have consulted with me. What’s going on with you?”
Red crept into his cheeks. “That’s quite enough, Detective.”
“I’ve worked under your command for ten years. I’ve worked hard to become a good cop. The kind of cop you are, Chief. You’ve been a mentor and a friend, a good one at that.”
He shifted slightly in his seat. “I appreciate that, Miranda.”
“In those ten years, have I ever let you down?”
“You have not.”
“Have I ever given you reason to doubt my integrity?”
“Of course not.”
She unclipped her shield and laid it on the desk. “You want my badge? Here it is.”
“Hell no, I don’t want your badge.” He pushed it back towards her. “What’s this about, Miranda?”
“The gloves,” she answered. “President Stark’s complaint about me. After ten years, you doubt me. After a decade working together, you believe I’d behave in an inappropriate manner with a witness. Flat out, I don’t get it.”
“It was a major slipup, Miranda. Your fingerprints at a murder scene? How could I not take that seriously?” He leaned forward. “Coupled then with a complaint from a witness that you were acting like you had an ax to grind with the victim? What should have I done? You tell me.”
“Given me the benefit of the doubt. Maybe questioned why President Stark would say such a thing about a trusted member of your team.”
Buddy let out a long breath. “Ian Stark’s a powerful man in this community.”
“So his word means more than mine?”
“Let me finish. He can make life … difficult. For me. And for you.”
“So I should bow down to him? What are you afraid of, Buddy?”
He went from flushed to furious. “That is enough. You have no clue the pressure on a man in my position. What it’s like to have everyone depending on you, expecting you to have all the answers. The responsibility of it can … consume you. It cost me my marriage and my family, you know that.”
“I do know that,” she shot back. “I was there to help you pick up the pieces. Remember?”
He didn’t reply and she stood, laid her palms on his desk and leaned forward, gaze fixed on his. “You say you don’t want my badge? Then let me do my damn job.”
He gazed at her for a long moment, an expression in his eyes she hadn’t seen since the morning he shared that his wife had left, taking the kids with her. Was it lost? she wondered. Or trapped?
He broke the contact, looked away a moment, then back at her. “Agreed, Miranda. Just—” He paused a moment before continuing. “For the love of God, try not to step on Stark’s toes.”
Miranda nodded and started toward the door. When she reached it she stopped, looked back. Stark was pulling Buddy’s strings, that much she was certain of. But why was Buddy letting him do it?
“Stark’s phone records,” she said. “Where are they?”
“There’s a copy in your inbox.”
She held his gaze a moment, then nodded again. “I’ll be in touch.”
As promised, the list was waiting for her: Numbers in and out and separately, recent text messages.
She downloaded the record of all Starks calls from seven days prior to his murder, then sent the document to the printer. Her desk phone rang as she stood to retrieve it.
“Detective Rader.”
“Miranda? It’s your old schoolmate, Paula. You gave me your card the other night at the vigil.”
Miranda kept her surprise from her voice. “Hey, Paula. What can I do for you today?”
“I wondered if … maybe we could get together for coffee? Catch up?”
The two of them, catch up? They had nothing to catch up on—other than reminiscing over how different they were from each other in high school and how neither would have been caught dead hanging out together. If that was the real reason she was calling, which Miranda doubted. Her old classmate had something else she wanted to talk about and her gut was telling her it had to do with Richard Stark.
“That’s really nice, Paula, but I’m buried in this investigation right now. Maybe another time?”
A moment of pregnant silence followed. Miranda waited, mentally crossing her fingers.
“Actually, I thought we could talk about that as well. For old times’ sake.”
Bingo. “I’d like that. I know a quiet place we can meet. Coffee’s not great, but no one will bother us there. Ever heard of the Toasted Cat?”