Chapter 34 Service Awards for Murder
THIRTY-FOUR
Service Awards for Murder
When I opened my eyes, my stomach rolled. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it to the bathroom in time, but the feeling faded almost immediately. I was still holding the pearl. That might have been why.
I asked Declan, “Do you still have the octopus?”
He held up the bottle and poured sea water over my finger. I shook off the excess, put on my gloves, and handed the evidence bag back to Kaknu, who took out his phone and hit record.
“His name is Jerome and I think the woman I saw who looked like she was shaking hands is Lauren, the killer’s assistant.” I told them the rest of what I’d seen.
“Jack?” Osso asked when I finished. “I thought the killer’s name was Mike.”
I shrugged a shoulder and took another muffin, handing the last to Declan.
“I can’t see him. The energy is the same, though.
This is the camp killer. He’s older now.
He’s the boss with the impressive office and an assistant.
Jerome was scared, having to confront him, having to ask those questions.
It felt like Jerome was worried he was tanking his whole career. ”
“The red and white stripes you mentioned behind the killer’s head,” Kaknu began. “Was that an American flag?”
I closed my eyes and thought back to that office. “I think so.” I opened my eyes. “It was hanging from a pole, so it draped in a way where all I saw were the stripes. I think so, though.”
“He got his assistant pregnant, then killed her,” Hernández said, checking that her notes were correct.
“I believe so, yes,” I told her.
“And he still has that baseball souvenir he used to kill Aaron in the shelter?” she asked.
“Yes.” My stomach was still a little iffy, so I passed the muffin to Declan and brushed off my gloves.
“He used the terms opponent and fundraiser?” Osso asked.
“Yes,” I said again.
Hernández turned to Osso, who nodded.
I pointed between the two of them. “You know who it is.”
Hernández took out her phone and tapped the screen. She waited a moment, then turned the screen to Osso and Kaknu. Both men sighed, looking resigned.
“What is it?” I asked.
She turned the screen in our direction. “Our killer is John Michael Monroe. Our mayor. I’ve seen that damn baseball.”
Osso growled. “We were called to the mayor’s office for a handshake and photo after we caught those two prep school killers.
There’s a flag behind his desk and a baseball in an acrylic box on the corner of it.
He has—or had—a young female assistant.” He turned to Hernández.
“Remember? He asked her to get us both coffees, but we said no.”
“The guy gave me the creeps,” she said. “He didn’t do or say anything wrong, but he’s one of those people who smiles and laughs with cold, dead eyes.”
“Yeah,” Osso agreed. “I just figured he’s a politician.”
Kaknu pocketed his phone. “We’ll keep digging.
Once we have more bodies identified and placed in his orbit, it’ll be easier to tighten the noose.
All reports will be kept in-house with the feds.
We can’t let anything slip to local police or the mayor’s office.
” They stood. “Thank you for your help.”
“Sure.”
They took off quickly, their jobs now easier and more difficult.
Declan put his arm around me. “Nap? Work? Lounging on the deck? What’s our plan today?”
I tipped my head onto his shoulder. “I have octopuses to make, and you have cribs and changing tables.”
“True,” he said. “But that puts us in different locations, and I wanted to stay with you, at least for a little while longer.” He stared out at the ocean a moment then checked the time.
“How about if I take you to an early lunch so we can get some real food, and you can draw me pictures of our kids. Then we’ll both get to work. ”
“I don’t know. My stomach’s a little—you know what? Yes. I want Mexican. We’re early enough to get a table at Mariana’s.”
“Perfect.” He stood, but I stayed seated.
“I’m a little worried,” I told him and he sat back down.
“About what?”
“I haven’t seen Otis, Daisy, and Jasper in about a week. I’m not sleeping here anymore, so I’m worried the little raccoons think I abandoned them. I can’t stop picturing them coming and knocking on my door for muffins and my not being here.”
“I’ve been feeding them,” Bracken said.
I looked toward where his RV was parked. “You have?”
“Yes. A moment, please.” I heard his door open and close before he walked through the gate. “I’m sorry. As you know, I work with the windows open. I’ve been thinking, though. You should use a muffling charm on this space, so I don’t overhear what I shouldn’t.”
“Don’t be silly. You saved my life with Cal’s demon because you heard us. I’m cool with you hearing whatever you hear. Speaking of which, did you hear what happened with the detectives?”
He sat on the bench across from us. “I did. I hope you don’t mind, but I already called your mother to let her know my sister Margaret has been fraternizing with the enemy.
” He shook his head in disgust. “There’s a pattern there for us to consider.
Those of us with little innate magic keep reaching for ugly ways of trying to obtain it. ”
“True,” I replied. “And I’m glad you called Mom. Too much is going on. I probably would have forgotten. Declan and I are headed to Mariana’s for an early lunch. Do you want to come with us?”
He waved away the suggestion. “I’ve eaten and I don’t want to intrude, but thank you.
I will tell you, though, that when Detective Hernández said the killer’s name, I began researching him.
” He took out his phone and scrolled a moment.
“Is this the ghost you saw shaking hands?” He came to our bench and sat beside me, showing me the image on his phone.
“Yes. That’s her,” I said.
He took his phone back and pocketed it. “Even before the detective said his name, I was thinking politician.
The smiling and handshaking, those are physical earmarks of a politician.
Like her, I caught your use of opponent and fundraiser.
I looked up some online bios on him, a few puff piece articles about his life.
Piecing them all together, I learned he attended a local summer camp, realized there were a lot of children in the community who had serious needs, and so dedicated his life to helping them.
That included time in college when he volunteered at a shelter downtown that mostly works with recovering drug addicts.
He was given service awards for his efforts.
He went into finance but kept his hand in public service, running for and winning a seat on the city council.
“When he first ran for mayor ten years ago, it was on the heels of his wife’s tragic death at the bottom of a tall flight of stairs.
It’s believed she tripped on the cat. Her husband, who was out of town at a fundraiser, said the cat liked to weave between their legs when they walked and that it had tripped her the previous week.
Luckily then, she’d only lost her balance and ended up bouncing off a wall.
“He hadn’t been polling well up to that point. Like those two detectives, many people didn’t like him. Sympathy over the wife’s death and him running a campaign while grieving, though, helped tip the scales with voters to give him the win.” Bracken shook his head. “That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
“That’s a lot,” I said, impressed with his speed.
“As I said, a few biographical puff pieces about the town’s mayor. It’s only because we know about the deaths surrounding him that this all sounds sinister. Without that, he’s a good, hard-working man, trying to give back to his community, who has suffered a horrible loss.”
“That’s a scary thought,” Declan said.
Bracken nodded his agreement. “Anyway.” He patted my knee. “I didn’t want you to worry about the raccoons. They did in fact knock on your door, but I heard and came to feed them, as I assumed you’d want me to.”
I nodded, grinning.
“Good,” he said. “They’re very smart. They can’t see the RV, but they know I’m there, so now they chitter outside my window until I come out to get them snacks.”
I laughed. “I miss them, though. I need to hang out long enough to see them more often.”
Declan crouched down in front of me and put my shoes back on my feet. “Are you sure you don’t want Mexican?” he asked Bracken. “I want to make sure she eats real food before she begins working in the hot shop all day.”
“I’m sure,” he said. “You kids have fun. I have more digging to do.” He waved and went back to his home.
Declan and I left for lunch. We were there when the restaurant opened its doors.
I brought my backpack so I could sketch while we ate chips and salsa.
We talked about crib and changing table designs as I drew our children.
It was the oddest meal I’ve ever had. In between bites of chicken enchiladas, I worked on Mac’s image.
Declan ate, but he had a hard time tearing his eyes away from Quinn.
“I keep wondering if I’m dreaming,” he murmured. “She looks so much like you, but not.”
“There’s a lot of you in there too,” I said. “This one, though.” I tapped a colored pencil against the sketch I was working on. “He’s your spitting image.” I spun the sketchbook around so he could see. I was almost done, with only some shading left to do.
Declan shook his head. “I know you said visions are true in the moment, but the further you get away from that moment, the more that can happen to alter it.”
I nodded.
“So, I know this isn’t a guarantee. I could be taken out by a hunter’s rifle on the next moon run—”
“Don’t say that. Don’t speak that into the world,” I admonished.
He reached over and gripped my hand. “The point is this feels real to me. We’re talking ten years from now, but I know it’ll happen. And ten years from now, when I’m walking my son to your gallery, and I’m angry my daughter left without us—”
“And you pass a van and a cop car,” I interrupted.
“I’m going to remember today and how happy I am.” He blinked back the wetness in his eyes. “Thank you. You’ve changed everything in my life, and I’m forever grateful.”
The restaurant had filled around our booth, but I looked into warm brown eyes that had become my home and said, “Right back at you. I love you too, you know.”
The waitress dropped the check and Declan grabbed it. “I guess this means it’s time for us to get to work.”