Chapter 38
Harper wasn’t mad. Noah knew his stuff. Still, she had to give him grief for his comments to Estelle and Tiffany about her glaring incompetence. The man was a comedian, in his own mind.
“Next time we talk to someone, I get to portray you as a nincompoop,” she said and poked him in the chest.
“A nincom-what?”
She poked him again. “It’s a word my aunt uses to describe crazy people. You fit that bill.”
“Is that so?” He leered and reached for her. She avoided his hands with a spin and sidesteps.
“It is so.” She sent him a playful glance and quickly got into the car. He joined her. “I can honestly say that was the first time I’ve run from the cops.” She started the ignition. “It was fun.”
“It won’t be so much fun if we don’t get out of here,” he said and indicated she get moving with his hand. “Mignon won’t like that we got here before him. I suspect our truce with the good detective is over.”
The rental sped out of the lot. “At least we know how the killer got into Gerald’s room. That’s a good clue and good hard evidence if some D.A. wants to build a career on my case.”
Noah grinned. “Oh, babe, we got a hell of a lot more than one clue.”
Harper drove to the nearest strip mall and pulled in. “What do you mean we’ve got a lot more?” She was in the same interview, and although pleased with the information, wasn’t nearly as excited as her PI.
He unlocked his seatbelt and turned to her. “Think about this. The day you found the body, the police had already been called about the murder, correct?”
“I believe so. They were not surprised to find Gerald dead and my call never went through.”
“Right. Now we go backward.” He continued. “We know that the killer entered Gerald’s room through the room next door and probably rented the room to keep it open.”
“The video and Tiffany confirmed that.”
Noah nodded. “But according to Tiffany, she says the door wasn’t damaged. So how did he get in?”
Harper puzzled over the question. Then her mouth opened. “Could Gerald have let him in? That would explain why the door wasn’t damaged.”
“Correct. I’m thinking the same thing.” Noah gave the clue a moment to sink in. “You know Gerald pretty well. Do you think he’d open the connecting door for a stranger?”
The edges of the puzzle were coming together. “He always carried cash and was paranoid. I don’t think he would fling open that door at a knock. The hallway door, maybe.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, Noah. He knew the killer.”
The more time she spent with Noah, the more she’d been learning how to put clues together. She might earn her amateur detective badge after all.
Although anyone associated with Gerald and the Muskrats had the potential to be suspects, she’d hoped that the killing was a random crime. To realize that she might have been friends with, or at least knew, the killer made her brain hurt.
“Let’s go back further to the night at the bar where you threatened Gerald. You said there were several team members and cheerleaders there. Have you talked to any of them?”
“I talked to a few of the cheerleaders and players at the ball.” She cupped her face with her hand. “They all claimed to know nothing pertinent to my case.”
“You believed them?”
“No one openly acted guilty if that’s what you’re asking.” She had no feelings one way or another of guilt or innocence. She’d worked too close to the suspects to get an objective read.
Her mind went to Noah at the bar with Cassidy.
“I think Cassidy has beady eyes. She’s guilty,” she said, feeling feisty and energized by the new leads. “We should send Mignon to arrest her right away.”
Noah’s lids narrowed. “Cassidy? As in the cute cheerleader from the ball?” He read her like a James Patterson novel. “I think you’re jealous.”
“Why would I be jealous of her?” Harper refused to meet his gaze. “I think I remember that she came from a long line of criminals. It’s hereditary. She’ll have criminal kids someday.”
Noah eye-rolled. “I’d be more worried about your gene pool, HJ. Clearly, there’s crazy in your chromosome pairs.”
How could she deny this without the confirmation of jealousy? She didn’t really think Cassidy was guilty. She wanted to see how far Noah would go to stick up for her.
One thing she did take from the exchange is confidence that Noah wasn’t pursuing Cassidy. He wouldn’t look at her like she was a gooey hot fudge sundae if his interest was elsewhere.
“Fine, no Cassidy on the list. I don’t remember her from the bar anyway.” She disregarded his smug expression. “Let’s lock down what we know so far. The killer heard me at the bar and knew I’d confront Gerald the next day. He somehow got into the unused room, played Spiderman along the balconies, killed Gerald, and then called the police so I’d be there when they came.”
“I’ll bet Harvey that’s exactly what happened.”
“That’s diabolical. And genius. And Harvey isn’t yours to bet.” The puzzle pieces were coming together. “We need to get home and lay this all out.”
* * * *
Several hours later, they firmed up a good picture of what they were dealing with. Harper had been set up. What didn’t fit was her Mustang, or the goat.
“I think the car is separate from the case,” she said after scanning the evidence. “The motel was crap. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was kids looking to steal my radio, or some jealous jerk trashing a cool classic car.”
“I agree.” He ran a black marker line through “Mustang” on the white poster board they’d purchased on the way home.
That took out one area no longer needing investigating for her case. “As for the goat, I think that’s also unconnected,” she said. “It makes no sense that the killer would go all the way out to the farm, steal Harriet, and dump her on me. Surely Estelle would notice the goat kidnapping and call the cops.”
Noah drew a line through “goat.” “We’ll figure that one out after the killer is caught.”
Harper looked down at the poster laid out on the table and saw a clear pattern. Nothing pointed directly to the killer, but they were getting close.
“I think we need to have another chat with Kimmie,” she said. “She was at the bar, knows everyone in the organization, and acted suspiciously when Alvin and I visited. I want to know what she knows.”
The trip to Lansing took a half hour longer than usual. Harvey was losing its enthusiasm for road trips.
“The oil probably hasn’t been changed since the car was new and the transmission is likely original,” Noah said. “With close to three hundred thousand miles on it, this car is a decade and double the miles past its expiration date.”
“And yet, dear Harvey keeps chugging along.” She patted the dashboard. “We’ll get a few more days out of him yet.”
They got to the stadium on fingers crossed and a prayer. They talked their way past the youngster with a thin patch of upper lip fuzz guarding the delivery entrance by Harper claiming to have lost her ID. She showed him a selfie of a team shot with the other cheerleaders and he took that as better than a driver’s license.
He’d smiled a gap-toothed grin, asked her to sign his sunken chest with a permanent marker so he could tattoo it on later, and waved them past.
“Some security,” Noah said.
Harper shrugged. “Not my problem anymore.” She led him to Kimmie’s office. As had happened during the previous visit, they found Kimmie in Gerald’s office. This time she was on her knees in front of a file cabinet, with her slacks-clad butt up in the air in front of a stack of papers.
Noah cleared his throat.
She startled and jumped to her feet, sending papers scattering over the expensive Oriental rug.
“Oh, hey, Harper.” She made a feeble attempt to kick the papers under the desk. “What are you doing here?”
Harper walked over and picked up a sheet. It was some sort of accounting form covered with columns and numbers. “We came to talk to you about the bar night before the murder, but now I’m thinking we need to move you up the suspect list.”
Kimmie’s jaw dropped and she put a hand on her chest. “You can’t think I killed Gerald?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Harper noticed a briefcase stuffed with files. “This is the second time I’ve found you rooting around in here and you’re acting pretty suspiciously.”
For a moment, Harper thought the young woman was weighing her chances of making a run past Noah. Instead, she slumped into Gerald’s chair, defeated.
“I didn’t kill Gerald.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, making her appear younger than she usually did. “I’m looking for blackmail evidence.”
* * * *
The longer the case went on, the more Noah realized that during his years with the FBI, he had not, in fact, seen everything. Sitting behind a desk in a chair twice her size was a girl who looked fourteen, admitting to blackmail.
“Would you care to clarify that statement?” he pressed.
She trembled. “Are you a cop?”
He introduced himself as Harper’s PI. “If you want off the hook for the murder, we need the truth.”
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Clearly trapped, she must have figured she had nothing to lose. When she opened them again, she was ready, and angry.
“I’ve put up with so much shit around here. Gerald did nothing to advance the interests of this organization. In fact, he was nothing but a figurehead.” She flung open her arms. “Right out of college, I ran all of this. And he treated me like dirt.” She stood and her eyes flashed. “Yes, I wanted him dead. Hell, I celebrated with a bottle of wine when I heard the news.”
For someone so young, Kimmie had hardened up quickly.
“You know what I’m getting for my service?” Rant not over. “Willard is hunting for Gerald’s ‘male’ replacement and I have to train him before I get kicked to the curb.”
“That hurts,” Harper said. “I think we can take her off our list,” she said to Noah under her breath. He nodded.
If anyone knew what happened when someone got screwed over by the Covingtons, Harper did. Yet, now was not the time to commiserate. Noah asked, “Do you think blackmail will work?”
Skinny shoulders lifted. “Who knows, but I’m damn well going to try. These people are up to their eyeballs in corruption. I just know it.”
Noah felt a twinge of concern. “Make sure you’re careful. I understand the Covingtons are ruthless.”
Her ponytail bobbed with her head shake. “I plan to have copies of what I uncover sent to a couple of lawyers, in case I get my knees smashed.”
Other than watching too many gangster movies, Kimmie was on the right track to cover her ass. The blackmail had been well thought out. “Good luck.”
Harper broke in. “Before you take down the organization, how about we put our heads together and come up with a list of names at the after party. Men only.”
She and Kimmie worked over it for few minutes. All but four were on their previous list and had already been talked to.
“We’ll need addresses, too,” Harper said.
Kimmie opened the computer and give her the list. “Chaney and Klein won’t be home. They’re in Rome on their honeymoon.”
Harper blinked. “I didn’t know they were gay.”
The assistant nodded. “No one did. I only know because I set up their travel reservations. They’ve always been sweet to me. I wanted to help.”
Chaney and Klein were a defensive lineman and a tackle. When their marriage hit the news wires, it would explode. A gay marriage between high profile football players drifted into uncharted territory.
“I wish them well,” Noah said. Harper said the same. He saw no reason to linger. “We should go. Good luck with the blackmail, though I have to advise you not to do it.”
Kimmie grinned. “We’ll see.”
The duo left her to tossing Gerald’s office and got out of the building without being seen. Scrappy mustache guy waved at Harper, his face slack with longing.
Once they hit the parking lot, Noah ran both hands through his hair. “Who knew the Muskrats were running a nut house.”
“I knew. I was once the nut in charge.”