Chapter 6 #2
The girls wanted to go to Leopold’s. I thought, “Why not?” After lunch with Mom, we all need to pamper ourselves. Since a spa treatment and double margarita weren’t possible, ice cream and some time in the park was the next best thing. Be home in an hour or so.
Lily added an emoji of a face rolling its eyes.
Nikki sent a text back, before heading downstairs and making herself a tuna sandwich with pickles.
She ate quickly, popped the top of a can of Dr Pepper, then nearly sprinted up the spiral stairs to her office, where she scooted out her desk chair and speed-dialed her contact in the police department, a friend from high school.
Even though Nikki was still considered by some at the station to be persona non grata, there were a few deputies in the department who remained friendly and would, with prodding, give her guarded information.
The rest of the force would probably never forgive her, would forever blame her for Sylvie Morrisette’s death.
Understandable.
Didn’t she blame herself?
She just refused to dwell on the guilt that could have consumed her. It’s not what Morrisette would have wanted, and it was definitely not what she wanted for herself.
Still, in the middle of some sleepless nights, there it lay. Waiting. Reminding her that, because of her reckless actions, a woman had died.
A mother.
It was in those restless evenings that Nikki would creep into the nursery and watch Chloe sleeping.
The accident that had taken Morrisette’s life had also resulted in Nikki miscarrying yet another baby, which had torn a hole in her heart, a hole she’d tried desperately to conceal from the world, and from her husband.
She’d been far more careful during her subsequent pregnancy, and even so, it had been touch and go for a while, but eventually, Chloe Victoria Reed had arrived, red-faced and screaming, into the world.
Chloe’s birth had been a jubilant event, but each time Nikki remembered the miscarriages, a lump would fill her throat, and a bit of sadness would steal through her heart.
“Nikki Gillette. I figured you’d call,” an annoyed female voice answered. Jill, Nikki’s longtime schoolmate, was very protective of the department.
“I was just looking for information on the Huber homicide.”
She scoffed. “You know I can’t tell you anything more than you could get from Viv. Remember her? She’s the PIO. Better yet, talk to your damned husband.”
“All I need to know is if Billy Huber’s next of kin have been notified.”
“Shit,” Jill said under her breath, then, “Yes. This morning.”
“Thanks.”
“Next time, call the PIO. Make it official. You hear me, Nikki? I’m serious.
Just because we were in Brownies together, and and we took martial arts together in grade school, and you were my rock when Kurt Hendricks dumped me for Sara Tillis right before senior prom, or, or …
that you put in a good word for me with your husband when I needed a job here at the department after Seth walked out on me and the kids …
” She stopped for a second, as if counting up the favors and realizing Nikki had always had her back.
“Well … well … Oh, it doesn’t matter! I know you’ve been a good friend.
But that doesn’t give you the right to call me and try to weasel information from me. ”
“You’re right. I do hear you.”
“Oh, sure,” Jill said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.
“Thanks again,” Nikki said, but the line had already been disconnected.
No surprise there.
Since she’d already gotten Janelle McGowan’s phone number, she punched it into her cell. Five rings later, she heard a rough female voice answer. “Hello?”
She quickly introduced herself, saying she was a reporter with the Savannah Sentinel, which wasn’t a lie but definitely was a bit of a stretch, and offered her condolences about Janelle losing her father.
“Oh, God, a reporter. Already?” was the response. Nikki heard what sounded like the rush of wind and music, as if Janelle were driving. “I just heard from the cops a couple of hours ago. Y’all don’t waste much time, now, do ya?”
“I’m looking into your father’s death.”
She snorted. “Well, according to the cops that showed up on my door, he was murdered.” She said it matter-of-factly, without the grief, anger, or concern Nikki had expected.
“‘A probable victim of homicide,’ that’s what they said.
So somebody offed him. To tell you the truth, it doesn’t surprise me. Billy was weird as weird can be.”
“In what way?”
“Every way. After Mom died, he just lost it. I mean, really lost it. He always was a hoarder, and if you ever saw his place, you’d know what I’m talking about.
But once Mom passed, it just got worse and worse.
He should have gotten help, but that wasn’t Billy’s way—hey, Al, could you turn down the radio, for God’s sake?
Can’t you see I’m on the phone here? I don’t need to be competing with Brad Paisley while I’m tryin’ to talk to this reporter here.
… Excuse me,” she said more loudly, and a male voice responded something unintelligible, then, “Listen, Ms. … what did you say your name was again?”
“Nikki Gillette.”
“Gillette?” she repeated, and Nikki wondered if Janelle had seen her name on a book and recognized it, could even be a fan. “Like the razor blades?”
So much for her fame. “Yes. Could I ask you a few questions?”
“Not now. I’m not gettin’ great reception.
We’re on the road. Coming to Savannah to tie up the loose ends and all.
The police said they’d be done searching Billy’s place today, if you can believe that.
Dear Lord, if you ask me, it would take years to search that place proper, but what do I know?
They also want me to ID his body. I guess I can do that.
Not lookin’ forward to it, I can tell you that much.
” She sounded resigned and irritated that her life in Florida had been interrupted, even though her father had just died and been the victim of a vicious homicide.
She sighed and turned away from the phone and said, “Light me up one, will ya, hon?” A moment, then she was back again.
“Looks like I’ve got a shitload of junk and a damned dog to deal with.
God knows if he still has goats or whatever up there.
Hell, what a mess. Look, if you want to talk to me, maybe meet me there—at his farm—in the morning? ”
Again, Nikki heard a male voice say something to Janelle. “Yeah, I said, I know,” she responded, then into the phone once more, “We’ll be there by ten.”
“About the dog—” Nikki started, but Janelle had already cut the connection.
“You find anything of interest at the Huber place?” Jamison Kittle asked as he slipped into Reed’s office and pulled the door shut behind him, effectively cutting off the sounds of voices, ringing phones, footsteps, and the general din from the hallway.
“We found lots of stuff,” Reed said. “All of it junk. You’ve been out there?”
Reed had been at his desk for a couple of hours after returning from Pooler.
He’d grabbed a quick lunch, a basket of fried chicken and biscuits from a vendor on the street, when he got back to the city, and had had enough time to catch up with his partner and read through the statements from people the police had interviewed, all of which had confirmed what Augustin had told him over the phone.
“Yeah, finally made it out to Huber’s farm last night. I guess I just missed you.” Jamison leaned against the doorframe. “Naomi was pissed that I left the house. Even a murder wasn’t a good enough excuse to leave Lara’s sweet-sixteen party.”
“You only turn sixteen once.”
“And you only get murdered once,” Jamison shot back, with a smile.
“And as for the teen years? The teen years. We’re all lucky to have survived.
” He nodded at Reed, who nodded back in complete understanding.
They’d known each other since college, long before Jamison had served in the army, moved back to the area, and swept Naomi off her feet, causing her to break her engagement to a local guy and marry Jamison Kittle instead.
Reed smiled at the memory. He’d been best man at Jamison’s wedding, usurping the role usually assigned to a brother. Jamison had four younger brothers whom he’d named as groomsmen. Rather than choose one of his siblings, he’d opted instead for his best friend.
Now he said, “So bring me up to speed. You’re convinced we’re dealing with a homicide?”
“Don’t you think so?”
“You’re the investigator. I’m just the ADA.”