“Yes, I know. And you were right.” His voice was tight. “This is personal. He had to dig back a lot of years to find out about Susan. Sonofabitch.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said quietly.
He sighed. “I know. I also wanted to tell you that I don’t think you need to worry about Donner. He told me to tell you he was sorry.” She heard a car door slam on his side of the line. “Did you ask Sal for time off for dinner tonight?”
“Not yet.” Eve glanced up at Callie, who was still watching with avid curiosity. “But I think I can find someone to cover for me for a while.”
“You need me to cover for you tonight?” Callie asked when she’d hung up.
“He wants me to go to dinner with him.”
“Then I’ll cover for your shift. I need the money and you need the romance. Of course, if you’re really not interested, I’d be more than happy to stand in.”
“That’s all right,” Eve said dryly. “Although your sacrifice touches my heart.” Touches. “Hey, did that guy posing as a reporter give you his card?”
“Yes, he did. I have it here.” She opened her purse.
“Don’t touch it. I pitched the card he gave me. Maybe they can get prints off yours.”
Callie’s brows rose. “Why not just give it to Noah Webster?”
“Because he’s a little busy right now.” Eve dug in her backpack and came up with an empty envelope. “Put on your glove, then drop the card in here.”
Callie obeyed, then sat back, amused incredulity on her face. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little,” Eve admitted. “It’s been awhile since I did anything clandestine. In the real world, anyway.” She gathered her things. “It always was kind of a rush. Gotta go.”
Wednesday, February 24, 12:00 p.m.
“So Jeremy Lyons is missing?” Abbott asked.
Noah slumped into one of the chairs at Abbott’s table. “We stopped by his house. His wife was there. He didn’t come home last night and she hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning. He didn’t pick their daughter up from day care and he hasn’t called, texted, emailed, nothing, which she said was unusual.”
“She let us search,” Jack added, “but we found nothing suspicious.”
“What about Donner?”
“I’d put my money on Lyons before Donner,” Jack said. “Donner didn’t appear to be in good enough physical shape to do these murders.”
“And Lyons is AWOL,” Abbott mused. “Pull Lyons’s financials. See if he’s gotten any big payoffs lately.”
“You’re thinking he sold the list?” Jack asked, then shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“Follow the money,” Abbott said. “I requested Girard’s financials yesterday. We’ll look for links to Lyons, anything to explain why Axel was picked as a fall guy.”
There was a light knock on Abbott’s door and Faye stuck her head in. “I’ve got the police report on the Millhouse woman for you, Noah.”
“Thanks, Faye.” Noah flipped through the report and frowned. “I read this one, Jack, that first night after we found Martha. We read so many, I didn’t remember Amy Millhouse by name, but I remember reading this suicide note. ‘I’m sorry. God forgive me for the pain I’ve caused my family and my church.’ ”
“But we didn’t see any other reports that had the shoes and the open window.”
“Because this one doesn’t. When the investigating officer got there, someone had already cut Amy Millhouse down and laid her on the bed. Look at the picture. Modest clothes, clean face. No makeup.”
“Her eyes?” Abbott asked.
“No mention of glue,” Noah said.
“Who found her?” Jack asked.
“Her mother.”
“Go talk to the mother,” Abbott said. “Then pay a visit to the Girards. I want to know why our guy picked Axel.”
“I’ll meet you at Amy’s mother’s,” Jack said. “When we’re done I’ll go get a phone.”
“I thought you did that this morning, before we met Donner and Lyons.”
Jack jerked a careless shoulder. “I went by the store, but the line was too long then.”
Noah watched him walk away, wondering how long it would take them to fall back into step. He glanced over his shoulder. Abbott watched him with keen eyes.
“Figure it out, Web,” was all Abbott said.
Wednesday, February 24, 12:20 p.m.
Eve found Olivia Sutherland with her boots propped up on her desk, looking so much like her sister, Mia, that Eve had to remind herself who she was talking to. On the corner of Olivia’s desk was a bust of a Greek goddess wearing her Hat Squad fedora, charmingly askew. The rest of the desk was almost painfully organized.
“Hey,” Eve said.
Olivia looked up, smiling when she saw Eve. “Evie. Sorry. Eve.”
“It’s okay. An old friend’s in town and he’s been calling me Evie, so I’m getting used to it again. You remember David Hunter, don’t you?”
“He’s kind of hard to forget,” Olivia said wryly. “We were in Mia’s wedding together.”
“He walked you down the aisle,” Eve remembered.
Olivia grinned. “I felt my life was in danger from all the daggers shooting from the other women’s eyes. So why is David here?”
“He’s fixing my roof. It leaks.”
“Well, tell him I said hello.” She leaned back in her chair. “What brings you here?”
“I actually came to see Officer Michaels, but he wasn’t there and I have a class in an hour, so I can’t wait.” She explained the events of the evening before.
“This guy assaulted you?” Olivia asked, blonde brows crunched.
“He did. Anyway, he gave his card to my friend.” She took it out of her bag, along with a folded sheet of paper. “His prints should be there. He said he’d print it if I didn’t tell him about the dead women yesterday morning.”
Olivia opened the folded page and flinched. Then sighed. “Geeze. I’m sorry, Eve.”
“It’s okay. That’s how I looked. You can still see the scar if you look hard.”
“I know.” Olivia shrugged uneasily. “After your last surgery, I couldn’t help but look.”
“I know,” Eve said. “Everybody thinks I don’t see them looking. Anyway, I thought you could give those two things to Latent. Maybe see if any prints pop.”
Olivia’s lips twitched. “You’ve been watching too many cop shows.”
Eve smiled back. “So you’ll submit them?”
“Sure. I’ll take them down to Micki Ridgewell and make sure Officer Michaels knows I did it. If this guy bothers you again, call me.”
Eve smiled again, ruefully this time. “After I call Noah and a list of other people.”
Olivia’s brows lifted. “So it’s ‘Noah’ now? What’s going on there, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Eve said truthfully.
“That’s fair.” Olivia hesitated. “Mia asks about you every time we talk.”
“I’d be surprised if she didn’t. She grabbed me off the streets, you know.”
“I didn’t know. She never told me how she met you.”
“I was a kid, living on the streets. Mia was still a patrol officer. I was running a scam with a couple of other runaways and somebody screamed ‘cop.’ I picked the wrong alley to duck into. Mia was there, and next I knew, I was in the back of her squad car.”
Olivia grinned. “She arrested you?”
“Nah. She gave me hell and said she was taking me to somebody who could straighten me out. That was Dana and Caroline and the shelter.”
“I’d say they did a pretty good job of straightening you out.”
“You should tell them that. What do you say when Mia asks about me?”
“I tell her that I see you at Sal’s and you look healthy and safe. Then she always asks if you’re happy and I have to tell her I don’t know, that you watch us from behind the bar, but never join in. What should I tell her the next time she asks if you’re happy?”
“Tell her I’m not unhappy. I’ve got to get to class.” Eve had taken a step toward the door when a piece of paper on Olivia’s desk caught her eye, a list of Twin Cities’ bars. “You planning on hosting a party someplace other than Sal’s? He’ll be hurt.”
“We think last night’s victim met the killer at a bar.”
Eve thought about the timeline. “It would have to be one with a late last call. We close pretty early. When I ring the last-call bell I can guarantee which customers are going to ask for another drink. It’s like they’ll never see alcohol again. Others toss back what’s left in their glass, settle their tab, then tell me they’re going to their late-night bar.” She checked off several. “These are the places they tell me they’re going.”