Justice for Leah
A Callie and Carter Mystery


Chapter One

 

"Book or column?" Callie asked as she entered the loft to find Carter typing on the computer.

"Book right now. I need a little more info about the column. I'll probably send them a repeat column for this week."

"I thought you were doing another column about a cold case?" she asked, dropping her purse onto the coffee table as she stepped out of her shoes and left them to circle around him to put her arms around his shoulders.

"I am. But I got a call today from the daughter of the woman the story's about. She wants to talk to me." He stopped typing to put his hands on her arms and turn his head to give her a kiss. He had stopped trying to hide the fact that he wrote the syndicated column "Simon Says", since most of what he was writing wasn't anything that could put him or Callie in danger. "How's Allie?"

"You know Allie," was Callie's answer. "But she does seem very happy these days. For that matter, so does Dad. She told me that he's still talking about selling the house and moving into an apartment."

"Allie's apartment?"

"I think he's looking for someplace that doesn't have memories for either of them."

"That makes sense. Besides the fact that each of them probably spent time with their other friends in Allie's apartment or Marty's house - there's also the fact that Allie practically grew up in that house."

"Yeah. Allie had the silliest idea -" she shook her head and started to move away, but Carter stopped her.

"What?"

"Like I said, it was silly -"

"Callie -" He pushed back from the desk and pulled her into his lap.

"She suggested that they move in here and that you and I - that we move into the house. I told her that you have a long term lease -"

"That can be transferred if a fee is paid - or I can sublet."

"You can?"

He nodded. "I had to live here a year before that part of the lease kicked in, but there's a section that allows me to sublet - as long as the new tenants file an application and are approved by the management company."

"Oh. I told her that you like it here. So do I. It's small, and easy to clean. And there's no yardwork -"

"Sounds like you're making excuses," he told her. "We already have a housekeeper that comes in weekly. And as for yardwork, it can be hired out - which is what Marty does, I believe."

She nodded. "Marco's mowed the yard for years," she said. "And he's good about trimming hedges and such - you sound as though you'd be okay with moving."

"Would you be - okay with it?" he asked her. "You know that I like the house. And there's a room there where I could put *all* of my books. I hate having to leave them in storage -"

"Why don't we invite Dad over here and let him look at this place before we make any plans?" she suggested. "He might take a look at it and decide that it's too small for him and Allie."

"I'd suggest having them both over for dinner on Sunday, but since neither of us cook -"

"Leave that to me," she told him. "Now, when are you supposed to meet this daughter of the woman you're writing about?"

"She'll be here at three this afternoon," he said. "So would you mind putting your shoes on and helping me straighten the place up a little?"

Callie gave a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose so. How long ago did her mother die?"

"Ten years ago. She disappeared on the way home one night and her body was found in her car at the bottom of a small lake two weeks later."

As she slipped her shoes back on, she looked up at him. "That sounds familiar," she noted. "What was the woman's name?"

"I told you," he said, and she gave him an apologetic smile. "Leah Davies. The police closed the case when they weren't able to find any evidence they could use to continue and said that she had most likely been drinking and lost control of the car."

"Did the autopsy show any alcohol in her system?"

"She'd been in the water for two weeks," he reminded her. "The coroner said that he wasn't able to confirm or deny that she had been drinking. But a bartender at a bar a few miles from where she went off the road swore that she'd been there and had had several drinks."

"If that's the case, then it would make sense that she drove the car into the lake. Why would it be considered a cold case since there was no sign of foul play?"

"Her daughter contacted my syndication office and asked them to see if I would look into the case and maybe get some publicity. She's convinced that her mother was murdered."

****

"She *was* murdered!" Paula Davies declared. She was twenty years old, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Dressed in jeans and a blousy top, the girl was clearly determined to pursue the matter.

"Miss Davies," Callie pointed out, "a bartender swore that she had spent the evening drinking -"

"Mother didn't drink much," she said. "Especially if she was going to have to drive. Her father was killed by a drunk driver. It made her very careful."

"You were - ten when she died?" Carter clarified.

"Yes. I know. Everyone thinks I didn't know anything about her. But I did. She didn't even keep alcohol in the house. We were close. It was just the two of us."

"What about your father?" Callie asked.

"I never knew him. He died before I was born. The police just wrote her off as a drunk, and refused to listen to me or anyone else who knew her - That's why I was hoping you would write about the case, Mr. Jankowski. I've read the other columns you've done about cold cases, and well, maybe something you write would make someone come forward who knows what really happened that night." She sighed. "I'm sorry. The last ten years have been - difficult, with people insisting Mom practically killed herself."

"What happened to you after her death?" Callie wanted to know.

"Mom's job had a life insurance policy on her - it's taken care of the bills - and our live-in housekeeper stayed on as my guardian," she explained. "Martha - Mrs. Logan is nice, but - well, she wasn't my mom."

Carter nodded. "All I can tell you, Miss Davies, is that we'll do what we can to investigate your mother's death - but it *has* been ten years, and there probably aren't a lot of leads -"

"You can talk to her old boss - and there might be some people that she worked with that are still there -"

"Where did she work?" Callie asked.

"Appleton Investments," she said.

"From what I read in the report," Carter said, "she was executive assistant to Stanley Appleton himself."

Callie's eyes widened at the news. Stanley Appleton was *very* rich, with land investments around the globe. "Oh."

"Mr. Appleton was very nice to me," Paula said. "I think he was as upset about Mom's death as I was. As I am. I'm sure he'll be willing to help you with this."

"We'll contact him," Carter told her. "If I have anymore questions, I'll call you."

"Anytime," she said. "I have classes during the day, but you can leave a message on my phone and I'll call you back." She stood and looked at them. "Thank you. For being willing to listen to me and to try to prove that the police were wrong - that my mother was murdered."

While Carter walked the girl back down to her car, Callie went to the desk and looked through the folder for his current column, pulling the police report from it. She was reading it when Carter returned to the loft. "I wonder if we could get an independent pathologist to do another autopsy," she murmured, but Carter spoke up.

"She was cremated," he told her, and Callie stopped reading to look at him.

"Really? How convenient."

"You sound as though you think Paula's right."

"I don't know. I'm getting a feeling -"

"Aha. That cop's intuition kicking in," he said. "For what it's worth, I trust that intuition. So who do we talk to first?"

"George Piper," she said.

"He wasn't on the case ten years ago."

"No, but he'll know how to reach the detectives who were."

****

Piper actually smiled when he saw them enter the office. "Callie. Carter. To what do I owe this visit?" he asked, indicating the chairs in front of his cluttered desk.

"We're here to pick your brains, George," Callie told him.

"Don't have a lot of those left these days," he said.

"Do you remember the Leah Davies case?" Carter asked.

"Leah Davies," he muttered, sitting back in his chair. "Leah - yeah. Ten years ago. She worked for Stanley Appleton and ended up at the bottom of a lake in her car. If my memory serves, there was a witness who said she'd been drinking all evening before she disappeared. Some kids found the car when they were out fishing on the lake a few weeks later. Pretty cut and dried as I remember."

"As far as it went," Callie nodded, ignoring Piper's narrowed grey eyes at her comment. "Who handled the case?"

"That's in the record - Harry Lansing was the lead investigator. It was his last big case before he retired. I was only a junior member of the detective division, assigned to vice at the time."

"Would you know where he is these days?" Carter wanted to know. "How we could get in touch with him?"

"He's still in the area - I could probably find his address and a phone number for you - but, what's this about? The case was settled ten years ago. Leah Davies got drunk and drove her car into the lake."

"We were told that Leah didn't drink much at all - especially not if she was going to be driving."

"Who told you that?" he asked. "There was a signed affidavit -"

"Made by a bartender who swore she was drinking all evening. And another customer had the same story. One bartender and one customer - no one else made the claim. Her father was killed by a drunken driver. Did you know that?"

"I've seen similar cases," Piper began as Callie finally stopped talking. "It happens. Let me guess: business is so slow that you're looking at old, closed police cases now."

"It's a cold case, George," Callie told him. "There's more to this than what's in the police report, and we're going to uncover it all."

"You don't seriously think that someone killed her, do you?"

"Why not? As you said, George, it happens. Now, would you please give me Harry Lansing's phone number so we can talk to him?"

He looked in the rolodex on his desk and wrote a number on a notepad. "Here you go. But I can tell you now, he's not going to tell you anything different than I have."

****

The Lansing house was situated in an older neighborhood. The yard was immaculately mowed and trimmed, with well-tended flower beds. As they pulled into the driveway, Carter asked, "You didn't know Lansing when you were on the force, did you?"

"No. He retired the year before I became a probationary officer. I heard the name mentioned by some of the old timers," she told him. "Most of them seemed to have a lot of respect for him." She pressed the doorbell.

The door was opened by an elderly man with snow white, close-cropped hair. He smiled at them. "Mrs. Harris?" he asked, then to Carter, "Mr. Jankowski, right?"

"That's right, sir," Carter said, shaking the hand that was extended.

"Come in. I don't get a lot of company this time of year. School just started, so the grandkids are all busy." He led them into what was obviously still his study. "After you called, I went through my records and dug up my notes on the Davies case." He pointed to the chairs as he picked up a folder. "Such a sad case. Single mother with such promise, working for one of the richest men in the state, if not the country, and she dies in such a tragic manner." He sat down as well. "What can I tell you that you don't know from the police record of the case?"

"You spoke to her daughter-" Callie began, and he nodded.

"Oh yes. Pam, Pat - No, Paula. Poor kid just didn't want to believe that her mother had been drinking."

"She told you about Leah's father, didn't she?"

"Yes, and we confirmed that. He died when she was sixteen, and her mother died two years later of an overdose of sleeping pills - on top of having had several drinks."

"What about her coworkers, did they say she drank a lot?" Carter asked.

"Most of them told us that she didn't spend a lot of time with them away from the office, so they weren't sure about her drinking habits."

"And her boss?"

"Mr. Appleton told us that he had never seen her take more than one drink at office parties - but he said that he knew very little about her private life. She seemed to spend most of her time away from the office with her daughter - said that the girl was the most important thing in Leah's life other than her job."

"So no one could confirm that Leah Davies drank too much, but you still took the word of a bartender and one patron at the bar where she supposedly spent the evening getting drunk?" Callie said.

"No one else in the bar remembered seeing Leah Davies," Lansing explained. "The one person that did remember her said that he went over to her table and tried to talk to her, offered to buy her another drink, but she told him to get lost. While he was there, he said he saw her drink at least three daiquiris, and she had ordered a fourth when he left the bar. The bartender said that she had five before she left."

"And he just - let her go after serving her that much liquor?" Callie asked.

"He said she didn't have any trouble walking out of the bar, so he thought she was just someone who could hold her liquor." He sighed. "Leah didn't have much of a social life. She dated a few men, we talked to all of them. To a man, they all said that if she met them at dinner, she didn't drink, but if they picked her up and brought her home, she would have one. None of them would admit to more than just dinner for the most part - certainly her daughter said that her mother never brought men home. There were no other leads. There was nothing else we could do but accept the bartender and customer's statements and declare her death to be caused by too much alcohol and driving."

"I don't believe that to be the truth," Callie said. "There's more to this story."

"Possibly," Lansing nodded, surprising the two of them. "We were pushed to close the case."

"That's not in the record," Carter said.

"No, but the higher ups wanted it closed, so we closed it. And - there's something else that wasn't in the record - the coroner said that while he couldn't prove the level of alcohol in the body, he was able to confirm that -" He drew a deep breath before continuing. "That Leah Davies was around 8 weeks pregnant."

"There's no way that she would have been drinking that much, then!" Callie declared.

"Not unless she was going to end the pregnancy," Lansing told her. "Then it wouldn't matter." He closed the folder and held it out to her. "Here. This case has haunted me for ten years. I hope you can find whatever it was that I missed."

****



Callie handed the folder to Carter as she got into the Jeep. "You might as well start looking through the notes," she said, backing out of the drive. "I think we need to make an appointment to see Stanley Appleton and see what he says - maybe he can help with any employees who might have known Leah Davies. And we need to try and see if we can't track down those men she saw during the months before her death. Not sure how much luck we'll have -"

"One of them is going to be easy to find," Carter said. "You know him."

She braked for a red light and looked at him. "Who?"

"Martin Cantwell," he answered.

"Dad?" Callie said, surprised. "He's never mentioned -" A car honked, and Callie realized the light had changed. Driving on, she found a spot to pull over and took the folder from him. Scanning the notes on Lansing's interview with her father, she glanced at her wristwatch. "It's downtime at the restaurant. He should have time to talk to us."

"Are you sure you want to do it at the restaurant?" Carter asked. "Wouldn't it be better to talk to him at home?"

"He's never *at* home, remember?" she pulled the Jeep back into traffic, taking the first right.

****

They entered thru the kitchen doorway, since the restaurant was still closed for the dinner reset. Luka saw them and smiled, pointing toward the office.

Callie tapped on the doorframe, and Marty looked up from the open ledger book on the desk. "Callie. Carter. Come in!" He started to stand up, reaching for the golden topped walking stick, but she stopped him.

"Just stay there, Dad," she told him, coming around the desk to give him a hug. "How's the leg?"

"Aches when the weather changes. But most of the time I almost forget that I broke it. The doc said I could probably stop using the cane in the next few weeks."

"That's good news."

"Great news. I'm getting tired of hobbling around. Allie says I swagger, but she's prejudiced."

"Well, I'm going to agree with her."

Marty shook his head. "I know that you two didn't just happen to drop by - what's going on?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm hoping that I can convince you and Allie to come to dinner on Sunday."

"Dinner. At your apartment," Marty said, narrowing his eyes before looking at Carter. "Do you have any idea what she's talking about? Have one or both of you suddenly learned how to do more than boil water?"

Carter grinned, leaning against the doorframe. "I think Callie and Allie are plotting something."

"I might have known. You and she had lunch today, didn't you?"

"She did make a suggestion about letting you see the loft, and well, since I know how important a kitchen is for you wherever you move to - I thought you could make dinner for the four of us. If you'll send me a grocery list, I'll make sure everything is there -"

"I've never liked the kitchen at the house," Marty told Carter. "In case she hasn't told you. But since I don't do a lot of cooking for myself, I never saw any reason to have any work done. Okay. We'll be there. I'll get a list emailed to you before Sunday. Now that that's settled, you said one thing - that means there's something else."

Callie looked at Carter, and he asked, "Do you remember Leah Davies?"

Marty looked sad. "That's a name out of the past. Yes. I knew her. Why are you asking?"

"We're looking into her death," Callie told him. "Carter's latest column is going to be about her, and her daughter wants us to find out what really happened."

The sadness was replaced by confusion. "I thought the police decided that Leah had too much to drink and drove her car into that lake? You mean that isn't what happened?"

"Her daughter doesn't think so. And neither do I."

Marty looked at Callie. "Ask your questions. I'll try to remember - it's been ten years, though."

"Right after I left for college," she said. "I guess that's why you never mentioned her."

"There was no reason to," he said. "We saw each other three times. Once for dinner on a Sunday. Twice more for lunch - here, so they weren't really dates. Between my job here and hers, our schedules didn't mesh too well. She was a nice young woman. She loved her daughter and was dedicated to her job at Appleton Investments."

"How long before she died did you see her?" Carter asked.

"Oh, six months, at least. I regretted losing contact with her - especially after she died. I felt like she needed someone to be a friend - someone to talk to. But, like I said, our jobs made it impossible. Her daughter - is she okay? I was always worried about what would happen to you if something happened to me."

"There was a live-in housekeeper that became her guardian and a decent life insurance payout helped," Callie told him, giving him a hug. "I'm glad we never had to face that problem."

Carter smiled. "From what Callie's told me, she grew up here as much as at the house."

"If I was here, she was here," he said. "Allie, too. Her mom hated having to come pick her up, but at least she wasn't having to go home to an empty house in the afternoons."

"He put us to work folding napkins and rolling silverware," Callie recalled. "After we did our homework, of course."

"About Leah, honey," he said, "I hope you find out what happened."

"Speaking of which," Callie said, turning to grab the phone book. "I need to find a telephone number for Appleton Investments."

"We're going to try to get an appointment with Stanley Appleton," Carter explained.

"You know, I didn't tell the detective that I talked to after she died, but, when he asked about other men in her life, I should have mentioned Appleton. She raved about how wonderful he was, how much help he had been to her and her daughter."

"Why didn't you mention it?" Callie wanted to know as she grabbed a slip of paper and wrote a number on it.

"Everything I'd ever seen about the man said he was very happily married. His wife still does charity work, I believe. Mostly out of state. I think she has a national foundation for something or other."

"Literacy," Carter supplied. "I did a story about it once," he explained.

 

Chapter Two

 

"We have an appointment with Mr. Appleton for tomorrow morning at ten," Callie told Carter after she placed the call.

"You didn't tell Marty about Leah's pregnancy," Carter pointed out.

"There was no reason to," she replied. "You heard him say he hadn't seen her for six months before she died. You know, I don't understand how anyone could put enough pressure on the department to keep that out of the official autopsy results and police report."

"Could be that someone in the department knew her - or someone behind the scenes who had a lot of money and power."

"You're thinking about Appleton and what Dad said, aren't you?"

Carter lifted his shoulders. "It's a possibility."

"I think we need to be very careful about what we ask the man tomorrow."

"And how we ask," Carter agreed. "Now, let me see if I can't locate those other men that Leah dated." He went to the computer and turned it on while Callie grabbed the telephone book. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Same thing you are," she said, "only old school."

He reached out to put his hand on the book in her hand, preventing her from opening it. "Let's make this interesting, shall we?"

Callie's eyes glistened with amusement. "You name it."

"First one to find a location and contact information that works - gets to choose where to eat dinner for the week."

"That's no bet," she told him. "We never argue over that."

"Then how about the loser has to pick up her clothes instead of leaving them wherever they fall?"

"You're on." She opened the phone book and started looking up the names in Lansing's notes. "I have numbers for three of them," she said.

"The bet was that you would make contact," he told her as he kept working on the computer.

Sighing, Callie dialed the numbers. "Hello, I'm trying to contact a Mr. Lucas Everett… I'm sorry." Another call got the same result. She sat down beside the desk as Carter took out his own phone and dialed a number.

"Mr. Everett? Are you the same Lucas Everett who was living on Forest Lane ten years ago?… My name is Carter Jankowski, and I'd like to talk to you about Leah Davies… Yes, well, I'm a private detective that was hired by her daughter, Paula to find out about how Leah died… No, sir, she doesn't believe that, and my partner and I were hoping that you might remember a few more things than you told the police back then… Okay. Let me write that down… Anytime that's convenient, sir - … We'll be there. Thank you." He hung up and smiled at Callie. "He owns a car dealership on Lemmon. He has to meet with a buyer this afternoon, but he'll be there after noon tomorrow."

"Stop smiling. So you found one of the men. What did he say?"

"He said that he never believed the official story, either, and has a lot to tell us about Leah." The smile didn't fade. "And why can't I smile? It's not my fault that the phone book isn't updated the way the site that I use to find numbers and addresses is. I'm sure this other number will put me in touch with Mr. Galloway. Now, I believe you have some things to pick up while I make that call?" he said, pointing out her shoes beside the door and her jacket, which was laying on the coffee table.

Callie walked over to pick up her jacket, taking it over to the coatrack to the left of the door and hanging it up. Bending over, she picked up the shoes, placing them neatly against the wall beside the bentwood rack. "How's that?" she asked.

Carter nodded as the phone at his ear began to ring. "Michael Galloway?" he asked the woman who answered… his smiled of victory dimmed as he listened to her speak. "Oh, I'm sorry… No, it wasn't anything important. Sorry to have troubled you."

"What's wrong?" Callie asked, coming over to sit in the chair again.

"That was his wife. Michael died six weeks ago."

"Oh. Well, I guess we won't get any information from him about Leah," she said, reaching over to take Harry Lansing's notes and finding the ones from his interview of Galloway. "Same as Dad - only a few dates, seemed like she spent all of her time either with her daughter or at work. "But he did admit that they 'made out' in his car a couple of times."

"Which could mean that they had sex or just fooled around," Carter pointed out. "Speaking of making out-" he reached over and pulled her into his lap. Callie wrapped her arms around his shoulders, giving him a kiss.

****

Upon entering the Appleton Building, Callie and Carter were given plastic badges marked "Visitor" and escorted by an armed guard up to the top floor. As the elevator rose upward, Carter asked, "Have you worked here for very long, Sgt. Brown?"

"Fifteen years," he said in a clipped, brusque voice.

"That's a long time," Callie noted. "Must be a good place to work."

"It's ok."

"Good benefits, I guess. And good co-workers," Carter stated.

"Very good benefits. Get better after you've been here awhile. And most of the people who work here don't really notice me. I'm part of the wallpaper - but then, I'm supposed to be."

"You know, I had a friend who worked here a few years ago," Carter said. "Maybe you knew her - Leah Davies?"

The man's eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. "I remember the name, but I don't think I knew her. I only moved into this position five years ago," he told them, looking relieved when the doors opened to what was obviously a secretary's office. "Here you go. Mrs. Collins' desk is just to the right of the doors." Once they stepped out, he pressed the button to close the doors and send the elevator back to the ground floor.

"Interesting," Carter murmured as they turned to smile at Mrs. Collins - a middle aged woman wearing out of style horn rimmed glasses - her graying hair pulled up in an unattractive bun on the back of her head.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Callie Harris and Carter Jankowski," Carter told her. "We have an appointment to see Mr. Appleton."

She consulted her desk calendar, then picked up the telephone receiver. "Your ten a.m. appointment is here, sir." She hung up and used her pen to point toward a door to her right. "Go right in."

There were two men in the office when Callie opened the door. One was obviously Stanley Appleton. He was seated behind the large desk, studying a paper that the younger man had placed before him. Both looked up as they entered. Appleton stood, saying, "We'll finish this later, Stevens."

"Yes sir," Stevens replied, taking the paper and moving toward the door on the right, leaving them alone.

Standing, Appleton came out from the desk and offered his hand to each of them. "Mrs. Harris. Mr. Jankowski. Please," he said, waving toward the leather upolstered sofa and arm chairs in a corner. "Can I get you something? Coffee? A drink?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Appleton," Carter said as the man sat down in one of the armchairs.

"May I ask, sir, how you knew that I'm a Mrs. and not a Miss?" Callie wanted to know.

Appleton smiled. "I will confess to having done a bit of research after your telephone call yesterday," he told her. "You told my secretary that you're investigating Leah Davies' death, I believe?"

"Yes," Callie confirmed. "At the request of Paula Davies."

"I haven't seen the girl since Leah's funeral," he sighed. "How is she doing?"

"She's in college," Carter told him. "Wants to be a teacher."

"I take it that she still has doubts about her mother's cause of death, since she's hired you to look into the case."

"Don't you, Mr. Appleton?"

"I worked very closely with Leah Davies for five years. We traveled to many places on business. I never saw her take more than one drink in all that time. I'm sure that Paula told you about Leah's parents?"

"She told us about Leah's father," Callie confirmed. "Detective Lansing told us about her mother."

He nodded. "She told me that she was determined not to drink and drive - or to kill herself with liquor. She had learned her lesson about drinking because of Paula - Tell me, what did Paula tell you about her father?"

"That he died before she was born," Carter answered.

"Leah was never married," he told them. "She told me that she had gotten drunk one night and two months later discovered she was going to have a baby. I asked why she hadn't -" he shook his head. "I don't want to say 'taken the easy way out', but she told me that she couldn't do it. She stopped drinking, and was strong enough to limit herself to just one drink - no more. That young woman turned her life around, and set out to make a good life for herself and her daughter. The day she walked into my office, I knew she was something special, and took a chance on her." He sat back. "To this day, I haven't found another assistant that comes close to her. Oh, young Stevens tries, but - Leah was - well, as I said, something special."

"So you don't think she had too much to drink that night?"

"I'd like to think she hadn't, but - all of the evidence that the police compiled - that's hard to ignore. Maybe something happened that sent her back to the bottle -"

"Do you really think she would have done that to her daughter, Mr. Appleton?"

"I don't want to."

Callie and Carter looked at each other for a long moment before Callie spoke up. "Were you aware that Leah Davies was 8 weeks pregnant when she died?"

The blood drained from Stanley Appleton's face and he shook his head. "What did you say?"

"She was pregnant," Carter confirmed.

"The police -"

"They didn't include that information in their report because they wanted something that might help them in case other evidence came up at some point," Callie told him, aware that wasn't quite the truth.

"No, no, I didn't know," he said. "She never said a word - Have you told anyone else -?"

"No, we haven't," Callie said. "We thought, since she was your assistant, that she might have mentioned the possibility that she might need to take some time off. Maybe for that 'easy way' you mentioned earlier?"

"No, she wouldn't have - I do know that she hadn't changed her mind about that. She talked to a young woman who was working here who had told her she was planning to do that, and she talked her out of it."

"That's something else that we'd like to do, sir," Carter told him, "see if anyone she worked with might still be here and willing to talk to us about her."

"Oh, of course." He stood up, looking a bit lost. "I'll have personnel get in touch with you - leave your email address with Mrs. Collins and they'll send a list to you. And I'll send out a memo to the list that I'd like for them to get in touch with you for an interview. Now, if you'll excuse me, I, uh, I have some things that I need to take care of."

"Thank you for seeing us, sir," Carter said.

"It was - nice to meet you both. Please, if you find out anything, or if I can be of any help, don't hesitate to let me know."

"We will," Callie assured him, letting Carter open the door for them to leave the office.

Carter left the phone number and email address with the secretary, and they got into the elevator. "I don't think he knew," Callie said. "There's no way that he could fake his reaction to the news."

"I tend to agree," he nodded. "I think Marty might be right."

"About what? Leah and - Stanley Appleton?"

"Uh huh. We have no way of knowing how Leah felt about her employer, but I know one thing: he was - and still is - in love with her."

****

After having lunch, they went to the car lot on Lemmon Avenue. As they entered the showroom, a young man approached them, smiling. "Hello, there! Chip Carson," he told them, taking a business card from his jacket pocket and holding it out. Can I show you one of our best selling models?" he began, indicating the brand new Jeep parked behind him. "It's got all of the -"

"Perhaps later, Chip," Carter said. "We're looking for Lucas Everett."

"Oh." Chip looked a little put out at the news, but his smile barely faltered. "He's right in there - but he's with another client right now. I'll let him know you're here."

Carter nodded, kicking the tire on the Jeep. Callie laughed, and he turned to look at her. "What's so funny?"

"Why is it that almost every man's first move while looking at a new car is to kick the tires?"

"Safety," he suggested. "Need good tires to be safe on the road." He continued to examine the red Cherokee, even opening the drivers' side door to look at the interior.

"What are you doing?" Callie asked.

"You're the one who's been saying that I need to get a new car," he reminded her. "I like your Jeep - so why not check out one for myself?" He got into the car and looked around. "This one has a few bells and whistles that yours doesn't have."

"Mine's not a new model, either. Are you going to try to trade the Ford in?"

"Probably. They probably wouldn't give me much for it, though."

"You'd be surprised how much we can give on a trade in," someone said. Callie turned to see a middle-aged man wearing a dark suit standing behind her. "Sorry. Couldn't help but overhear the conversation. It's an occupational hazard. I take it you're interested in the Cherokee-?"

"Just looking at the moment," Carter said, getting out of the vehicle. "Mr. Everett?"

The man looked confused for a moment, and then smiled again. "You called yesterday about Leah, am I right?"

"Callie Harris and Carter Jankowski," Carter confirmed, shaking the man's hand as he extended it.

"Sorry I was busy when you got here - finishing up with a new buyer. Why don't we go into my office and talk?" he suggested, leading them into the small office off the showroom. "Would either of you like any coffee or a soft drink?"

"No, thank you," Callie answered, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of the man's desk. "We just finished lunch."

"Now, what did you want to know about Leah Davies?" he asked, folding his hands before him on the desk.

"We have the notes from your interview with the police after her death," Callie told him. "You said at the time that you saw her only a few times -"

"Four. We had four dates for dinner."

"How did you meet?"

"She came in looking for a new car - I didn't sell her a car, but she agreed to have dinner with me, so I figured I came out ahead in the deal."

"How long before her death did the two of you date?" Carter asked.

"Our last date was a little over three months before she died."

"Did you meet her at the restaurant for dinner or -"

"No, I picked her up at her place - didn't go inside. She told me that she didn't like the idea of introducing her daughter to her dates, didn't want to confuse the girl."

Callie nodded, accepting Leah's reasoning for her decision. "How much did she drink at dinner?"

"One drink. I tried to get her to have a second one on our first date, but she told me that she had had a problem with alcohol when she was younger, and limited herself to only one. I backed off. She was a strong woman. I really wish I could have gotten to know her better."

"Why didn't you?" Carter asked.

"When I asked her out a fifth time, she told me she had another date, and that she was busy on every other night that I suggested. Then I heard that she was dead." He shook his head. "And when I heard how they said she died, I blew a gasket."

"You didn't believe it?"

"No, I didn't. I didn't know her very well, but she loved her daughter too much to have done something like they said she did. I mean, how does a woman who refused to take more than one drink at dinner suddenly drink herself stupid and then drive? No, I've never believed it. But the cops refused to listen to me."

"Maybe something happened that sent her back into the bottle," Carter suggested. "Another man, her job -"

"Oh, no. Not her job. She loved that job as much as she loved that daughter. Twice when we met for dinner, she had just come back from a business trip out of the country and spent the entire evening talking about the things she'd seen and done. You could tell how much her little girl and her job meant to her by just watching her face when she talked about them." He sighed. "I always figured that I missed my chance by not pushing to keep seeing her. And I kept meaning to try to talk to her little girl - to tell her how special her mother was."

"She knows, Mr. Everett," Callie assured him. "She's the reason that we're looking into Leah's death."

"Good for her. If you could, tell her I'd like to meet her, talk to her."

"We will," Carter said. "Is there anything more that you can tell us?"

"Only that the bartender and guy who said she was drinking that night are idiots. I don't know why they would say what they did, but they were lying." He smiled. "Now, why don't we talk about that nice, red Cherokee that you were looking at? It comes in other colors, if you don't like red."

****

"You do realize that it's almost impossible to tail someone if you're driving a red car, right?" Callie asked as they drove off the lot.

"I don't have to get the red. The metallic dark blue is nice, too."

"You're really going to do this, aren't you?"

"Probably. I told you that I'd get another car when I found one that I liked."

She sighed. "So what did you think about what Lucas Everett told us about Leah?"

"He seems like he really liked her. Probably could have fallen in love with her if he'd had the chance."

"You know who else might know something about Leah's private life?"

He shook his head. "Who?"

"The housekeeper. Mrs. Logan. She lived in that house with Leah and Paula day in and day out - I didn't see anything in Harry Lansing's notes about his having interviewed her."

"There was one little item," Carter said. "Something about the housekeeper not having any information."

"It won't hurt for us to talk to her, anyway. Maybe she'll remember something now."

 

Chapter Three

 

Martha Logan was a small woman with close-cropped white hair. After Callie and Carter introduced themselves, she stepped back to let them into the small house. "Paula's not here at the moment," she told them. "She called earlier and told me that she had some research to do at the college library," she explained, leading them into the living room.

"You're actually the person we wanted to talk to, Mrs. Logan," Carter said.

"Me? But," she looked away before answering. "I don’t know anything. I never have. I told the police when she died that I was just the housekeeper and babysitter -"

Callie interrupted the woman. "Live-in housekeeper and babysitter."

"That usually means you would likely know everything that went on in this house, Mrs. Logan," Carter pointed out.

"I - kept to myself," she insisted. "I didn't ask questions. I kept the house clean, cooked meals and took care of Paula."

"Did you ever see Leah Davies drinking wine or hard liquor?" Callie wanted to know.

"No. Never. And I never saw any liquor in this house." Her answer was firm. "And I've tried my best to make sure that Paula follows that example," she told them. "Neither one of us ever believed that story about her getting drunk that night."

Callie spoke up. "So why, as her guardian, didn't you fight to prove that the police were wrong?"

The woman's head dropped, as she exhaled. "I couldn't," she said in a quiet, strained voice. Finally, she rose from her chair and said, "Excuse me."

Carter and Callie exchanged confused glances, and Callie went to the door through which Mrs. Logan had gone. "Should be follow -?"

"Let's wait. She seemed pretty upset."

It was almost five minutes before Mrs. Logan returned, carrying an envelope in her hand. She paused in the doorway, as if she might change her mind, then continued into the room. "The morning after Leah Davies disappeared, I found this note on the windshield of my car," she told them, holding up the envelope. The car was parked in the garage," she said. "We always locked it - but since Leah was out, I knew she would lock it up when she got home. Only - she didn't come home that night."

Callie took the envelope with "Mrs. Logan" written in neat block letters, and removed the single sheet of paper from inside and read it aloud.

"When the police talk to you, you were just the housekeeper. If you say anything else, you'll never see Paula Davies again, no matter what Leah Davies' will says. She'll end up in a foster home - or worse."

"You have no idea who sent this?" Callie asked, handing the note to Carter.

"No. No one else ever contacted me - don't you understand, I couldn't risk losing Paula," Mrs. Logan told them, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping her eyes. "She was so lost. I was the only stability in her life with her mother missing - and then - dead. I didn't dare tell the police anything that might help them find out what really happened."

"You're the reason why Paula started asking questions after all this time, aren't you?" Carter realized.

"Yes. I was reading your - column about another cold case, and I mentioned to her that she needed someone like you to get her mother's case back into the public eye."

"Why now?" Callie asked. "What's changed?"

"Paula's grown now. No one can take her away. I have no reason to keep things hidden."

"Did you know she was pregnant?" Carter wanted to know.

Mrs. Logan took a deep breath, nodding. "Yes. She told me that the father didn't even know - that she wasn't sure about telling him. She hadn't told Paula's father when she'd become pregnant, either - but he died of a drug overdose a few months before Paula was born."

"You have no idea who the father of this baby might have been?"

"No, Mrs. Harris. That is the one thing she never told me. I never knew the names of any of the men she dated - and most of them *were* only dates. Nothing else. She did say that the father of this baby couldn't marry her, so I guess he was married to someone else."

Callie asked, "Would she have considered ending the pregnancy?"

"Never!" Mrs. Logan said in a firm tone. "She even told me that she hadn't done that with Paula, and she hadn't been in as good a financial condition as she was ten years ago - that she would manage the new baby. Her biggest concern was how to tell Paula that she was going to have a baby brother or sister." She sighed. "That's another reason why I knew she wouldn't have been drinking that night." A faint smile appeared. "It's such a relief to finally talk to someone else about all of this. I can't tell Paula - not until we find out who killed her mother. I've kept it locked up inside for ten years. Do you have any idea of what kind of hell that is? To not be able to speak the truth?"

"Anytime you need to talk," Callie said, reaching out to touch her arm, "feel free to call."

"Thank you."

****

"I think our next move is to find the two men who gave signed affidavits that Leah Davies was drinking the night she died," Carter said.

"I think you're right," she nodded. "I have a feeling that Mrs. Logan is going to sleep better tonight than she has in ten years."

"She'll sleep even better when we find out who killed Leah," Carter pointed out.

"Will you show me how to use that finder website?" Callie asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered with a smile.

****

"That's interesting," Carter said as he read the computer screen over Callie's shoulder. "There, highlight the second 'Daniel Green' in the list." Callie selected the name.

"What is it?"

"That link to the right - TABC - click that."

"Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission?" she said, clicking the link. "If he's a bartender, he would have to be licensed -"

Carter nodded, reading. "And so would a bar owner," he told her, nodding at the screen. He's had a bar in downtown Dallas for the last ten years. Danny's. On Commerce -"

"Wow," Callie said. "I've been in that place," she told him.

"Really?"

"Not that way," she said, playfully swatting at him. "When I was on the force. We had a few calls for fights. So Danny is Daniel Green."

"Small world. At least it might give us an in when we go talk to him."

"Maybe. He probably won't remember me."

"We'll see." He stood up. "Why don't we go have dinner and then see if he's there tonight?"

"You don't want to try and find the other man? The patron who said Leah told him to get lost?"

"It's possible that Danny will know where he is -"

"After ten years?" she questioned.

"If we're right, and they were involved in covering up a murder, it's very likely they've stayed in touch. You know, I have to wonder how a bartender goes from working for someone else to owning his own bar overnight."

"Money," she said.

"Big money. I'm very interested to hear what Danny has to say about it."

****

"Lovely place," was Carter's comment as they entered Danny's Bar. "Really high-class."

"When we were coming here, it was nicer. But it was newer, too." She wrinkled her nose at the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke. "You know, if I were the type to frequent bars, I think I'd find one that didn't allow smoking."

"I know what you mean," he said as they made their way to the bar. "Do you see him?"

She was looking around the room, and shook her head. "Not so far."

The bartender wiped the counter in front of them. "What can I get for you?"

"Sparkling water," Callie told him.

"Same for me."

He looked at them, eyes narrowed. "You do realize that this is a bar, right? We sell alcohol here."

Carter slipped a fifty dollar bill onto the bar. "Sparkling water. And I think this will pay the tab."

The man shrugged, taking the money and going over to fill two glasses with the carbonated water.

"Thank you," Callie said.

"Is Danny around tonight?" Carter asked, and the bartender paused for a moment.

"He ain't here. Danny figures since he owns the place, he doesn't have to be here at night."

"So he'll be here tomorrow?"

The man laughed, drawing the attention of several other customers. "On a weekend? Not likely. He'll show up sometime on Monday, 'bout the time we open up." He glanced down the bar. "Excuse me."

Callie used the straw in her glass to stir the contents. "So what now?"

"We probably need to see if we can't find some information about Mr. Green's finances - say, about, ten years ago?"

"Even my sources at the department can't get information from a bank on the weekend," she told him.

"You can contact your source and see what they can find out on Monday morning before we come back to talk to Danny."

"Anything else I can get for you?" the bartender asked, returning to their end of the bar.

"No, I think we're good." He and Callie stood, preparing the leave.

"You want to leave a message for Danny? He might show up for a few minutes tomorrow - I never know. But if he does, it's not for long."

"No, we'll talk to him later. Thanks again," Carter told him. He placed another twenty on the bar. "It's a - personal matter - if you know what I mean."

He took the money with a grin. "Never saw you. Or the lady. Night."

****

Between interviews with some of Leah Davies' former coworkers, they spent most of Saturday making sure that the loft was at its best - and that the kitchen was sparkling clean. After that, they went shopping for the ingredients from the email that Marty had sent to Callie.

As the four of them enjoyed the chicken fettuccine, Callie asked him about the kitchen. He turned to look at the small area. "I like it. It's small enough that I can reach everything easily without too many steps. The one at the house is too spread out - the sink's too far from the stove and the refrigerator. There's a lot of cabinet space, but not a lot of counter space. This place - is almost perfect."

"Almost?" Allie questioned.

"I'd change the sink faucet to something a little newer - and add a double fridge instead of the one that's here."

"So - what about the rest of the place?" Carter asked.

"Oh, as long as he likes the kitchen," Allie said, "the rest is just icing on the cake, right, Marty?"

They all laughed at her comment, but Marty nodded. "She's right. But I do like the place. Not sure what we'll do with all of the bookcases - and don't say use it for my cookbooks, Allie. I don't have *that* many."

"We can take whatever you don't need with us," Carter told him. "They belong to me, anyway."

"They do?" Callie questioned, clearly surprised by the news. "I thought they had been installed by the building management."

"No. There are still a few in storage - you probably didn't notice them behind the boxes."

"No, I didn't." She smiled, telling Allie, "He still has at least ten more boxes of books in there - I told him that he needs to start his own library."

"There's a room at the house that would be perfect for all of those books," Marty said. "So, are we going to do this or not? I'm ready to sign the place over anytime you're ready."

"We should pay you something -"

"Nonsense," Marty told him, shaking his head. "The place would have been Callie's eventually if I stayed there. Allie tells me that there's a paper I need to sign that would transfer it to you without any major financial problems - what about this place?"

"You and Allie will have to fill out a lease application with the leasing company. You can either sublet from me and I'll pay them or I can pay a fee to have the lease transferred into your names."

****

After making plans to meet and get all of the paperwork taken care of, Allie and Marty left, leaving Callie and Carter to take care of the dishes and clean up. "There's not really that much to do," Callie said as she placed a dish in the dishwasher. "Dad's always been good at washing up as he goes. Unless he's at the restaurant -"

"Ah, but then he has people that he pays to clean up after him," Carter pointed out as he wiped down the counter.

She laughed. "You're right."

"I'm surprised that the only changed he wanted made here -"

"Besides the bookcases?" she asked.

"Besides the bookcases," he nodded, "was switching our bed out with his."

"His bed is huge," Callie reminded him. "Do you still have the boxes so that we can make a start at packing up the books that are here?" she asked.

"I do. In storage. I'll run by this week and get them."

"We still have to talk to Danny Green. And Archie Brooks."

"Did you tell your contact at the department that we needed that financial information early tomorrow?"

"I did. She said she'd get in touch with me as soon as she found anything."

He slipped his arms around her waist. "Would you mind if I made a few - minor changes at the house?"

Callie turned to look at him. "I thought you told Dad that you liked it?"

"I do. But it could use a little updating."

She turned around completely to put her arms around him. "It's going to be your home, too. Whatever you need to do to be comfortable and happy, we'll do it."

"Now, that's easy. All I need is you."

****


"Ruby! What have you got for me?" Callie asked as she picked up the phone after seeing her old friend's name on the Caller ID. She glanced over to where Carter was putting books into a box and grimaced since the call was making it difficult for her to keep up with him at the other end of the bookcase. "Really?… Yeah, I get that -… Just a sec. Let me find a pen and paper… No, I'm trying to pack some books… We're moving," she explained, going over to the desk to grab a pen and notepad. "Okay, I'm ready…" she wrote the information down. "All in cash?… Interesting… No, that's it for right now. I might have another name I need you to check for me - Archie Brooks… I don't have an address or anything on him yet… I will… Thanks, Ruby."

Carter stopped packing books and joined her. "What did she find out?"

"Danny Green paid the fees for his liquor license and business license in cash. And there's no record of a mortgage on the bar, so he probably paid cash for that, as well."

Carter gave a low whistle. "Wow. I'm starting to look forward to talking to Danny."

****

Danny was supervising the delivery of liquor when they approached the back door into the alleyway behind the bar. While checking off items on the invoice, he glanced in their direction, but didn't acknowledge them until the driver returned to the cab of the truck. Turning toward the open doorway, he yelled, "Charlie! Get this stuff inside!" It was then that he looked directly at them. "Officer Harris, am I right? Excuse me. You got a big promotion just before leaving the police department."

"I'm flattered that you remember me, Danny," Callie said.

He gave her a lingering look and grinned. "Hard to forget how you filled out that uniform. You were the best looking cop I'd ever seen - even if you were usually frowning at me when you and your partner came in here." He looked at Carter. "You an ex-cop, too?"

"No," Carter said. "But I am her partner. Name's Carter Jankowski."

"What can I do for you?" he asked. "I got things to do."

"We're looking into the murder of Leah Davies," Carter told him.

"Murder? That dame wasn't murdered," he declared. "She got drunk and drove into a lake -"

"Are you sure about that?" Callie asked.

"Listen, I made a statement about what happened that night. She came into the place I was working and had several drinks, then left."

"Did you offer to call her a cab instead of letting her drive after having so much to drink?"

"I watched her stand up and walk out. She didn't stagger or stumble. Looked almost sober, so I figured she was okay. After the way she told that other guy to get lost, I didn't want to make her mad at me. Is it my fault that she was able to walk but not to drive?"

"Some people would make a case for that, Danny," Callie said. "It's strange how you told the police that she was drinking - when everyone else who knew her swears that she never drank that much."

"Maybe she was a secret drinker," Danny suggested. "Or maybe she had a bad day that day. There are a lot of reasons why someone would decide to get drunk. I was just unlucky enough to be the bartender who served her the drinks."

"Unlucky?" Carter mused. "It's strange that you should say that."

"Why?"

"You worked for that bar for six months," Callie said. "- and then suddenly had enough cash to be able to buy this place and get your business *and* liquor licenses."

"I saved my pay and tip money," Danny told her. "What are you suggesting? That someone paid me to lie about Leah Davies for some reason?"

"Isn't that exactly what happened, Danny?" she asked in reply. "I don't think she was ever *in* that bar."

"What about that other guy? Brooks - yeah, Brooks, that was his name. He made a statement, too. Said he tried to talk to her -"

"But no one else that was there that night remembered seeing her." Carter shook his head. "Why don't you make it easy on yourself, Danny and give us a name?"

"I got no name to give! And if you don't leave me alone, I'll file charges on your for harassment," he threatened.

"Do you happen to know what Archie Brooks is these days?" Callie asked him.

"Of course not. He was a regular at the other place, but I haven't seen him or talked to him since I bought this place. Like I said, I got things to do." He went through the door, slamming it behind him.

"He's rattled," Callie told Carter.

"Terrified is a better word. Come on," he said, leading her out of the alley.

"Where are we going?" she asked, following as he turned the corner toward the front entrance.

"Where is Danny's office in there?"

"Past the restrooms," she told him. "Why?"

"What's closer to the office? The ladies or mens?"

"Mens."

"Wait here," he said, disappearing into the bar, leaving Callie standing outside.

"Carter -"

He went inside and quickly found the sign for the restrooms, then cross to enter the hallway. It was dark, with at least one bulb in the overhead fixture burned out. Carter leaned into the door of the office, trying to hear whatever might be going on inside.

"Look, if they keep coming around, I might just have to give them what they're looking for… no, that wasn't a threat. You need to handle this… Getting arrested for making a false statement won't do either of us any good… Yeah, I'll do that."

Even through the door, Carter heard him slam the phone down and went into the men's room, going into one of the two stalls. He heard the office door open, then close again, and held his breath until he was sure that Danny had gone back to the bar. After washing his hands, he returned to the hall, smiling and sketching a salute in Danny's direction as the bar owner saw him leaving.

Callie joined him as he came back out into the sun. "Well? Did you find out anything?" she asked.

"Let's get back to the car," he told her, taking her elbow, glancing behind them. Seeing Danny come out of the bar, he steered Callie to her right, into an alleyway.

"What -?" she asked, frowning as she looked at him. "Would you *please* explain -"

"Danny's following us," he told her as Danny appeared on the sidewalk, not looking into the alley. "Looking for us, Danny?" Carter asked loudly to get his attention.

Danny stopped, looking a bit surprised. "Uh, no. I was just going to get a pack of cigarettes -"

"There's a machine in the bar," Callie reminded him.

"I'm not going to pay those prices," was his reply.

"Where were you going to buy them?" Callie asked. "There's not a store in this direction -"

He shrugged. "Guess I got turned around."

"You've owned that bar for ten years, Danny, and you expect us to believe that?"

Carter's question caused Danny's eyes to widen. "I don't care what you believe -"

Callie gasped as Carter grabbed Danny and pushed him up against the wall of the building. "Who did you call when you were in your office?" he asked.

"Call? Did I call someone?"

"You told whoever it was that Callie and I needed to be 'handled'. Now, just a word of advice," Carter said, releasing the man and brushing his shoulders off, "if anything happens to either of us, you'll be talking to the police - and I'm sure they'll ask you about your involvement with the Leah Davies case."

Danny took off toward the bar as Callie and Carter watched. Once he was back inside, Carter smiled at Callie. "Shall we go?"

"What else did you hear?" she wanted to know.

"He admitted to having made a false statement for one thing. He made a blind threat to whoever he was talking to about what might happen if we keep asking him questions."

"I wonder if Archie Brooks will be as worried about his own false statement?" Callie said as they reached the parking garage where they had left the car.

"Well, we have an interview at 2 with that young woman that worked with Leah, so why don't we stop to get lunch and take it home so that we can try to locate Mr. Brooks before that appointment?"

"Sounds like a plan."

****

JoAnn Compton shook her head. "No, I never saw her take a drink. We weren't close, really, she gave me a lift a few times when my car was in the shop."

"Where did you work at Appleton back then?" Callie asked the woman.

"In the steno pool. I did some work for her occasionally. But she and Mr. Appleton shared a secretary, so they didn't need anyone from the pool, usually."

"Mrs. Collins was Leah's secretary back then?"

JoAnn nodded. "Yes. Just like she's Mr. Stevens' secretary now, as well as handling Mr. Appleton's calls and appointments."

"Did you ever spend any time with Leah away from the office?" Carter wanted to know.

"We had lunch a couple of times. Even back then, it wasn't unusual for an executive to have a couple of drinks at lunch. But Leah just had coffee or tea. I really liked her. She seemed to have it all together, you know? A kid, a great job, a future that looked like the sky was the limit. I just couldn't believe it when they said she died because she had too much to drink."

"You keep not believing it," Callie told her.

"You mean - that's not what happened?"

"We don't think so. We don't have any details, yet, but, you keep on believing."

"Thank you. I'm not sure that I ever stopped. It's because of Leah that I got married six years ago, and we have a three year old little boy. I know how hard it is for me, and I have a husband. I can't imagine how hard it must have been for Leah before she got the job with Mr. Appleton." She sighed. "It was such a shame. She always seemed like on of the good ones, you know what I mean?"

****

"Is there anything in Harry Lansings' notes about an interview with Mrs. Collins?" Carter asked after JoAnn Compton left.

"No. And I don't recall her name being on the list of employees that worked with Leah, either," Callie answered. She looked at her watch. "We have at least three hours before Mrs. Collins might leave work to head home - unless you want to try to talk to her at work -"

Carter shook his head. "Best to do it out of the office, I think. Why don't we check out that address we found for Archie Brooks, then head over to Appleton Industries and wait?"

****

The latest address they had found for Mr. Brooks had been in Addison, but there was no answer when they knocked on the door of the townhome. None of the telephone numbers listed had been his. "We'll have to come back later," Callie decided. "He probably has a job of some kind -"

"Maybe he's in the back yard," Carter suggested. "Won't hurt to check."

"This place doesn't have much of a back yard," she told him, following him around the corner of the house, past the garage. The townhome was designed with the entry and probably the living room/kitchen comprising the first floor, along with the single car garage. The second floor was no doubt a couple of bedrooms. "Carter -" she began when he kept going.

He was already opening the gate of the high wooden privacy fence when she caught up to him. "Yard's big enough for a pool," he told her, then stopped in his tracks. "Damn."

Callie joined him and looked toward the pool. Carter was already running in that direction and she pulled out her cellphone to dial 9-1-1.

To Part 2


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