Blind Trust (10 page)

“Don't waste your time.” Hank shoved his chair back from the table. “The counterfeiting case is top priority.”

“Hold up there, Chief.” The mayor slipped his phone back into his blazer pocket. “Wasn't this Adams woman the one caught passing phony money at the grocery store?”

“She's not a counterfeiter.” Tom gritted his teeth. How had he completely lost control of this conversation? “Her story checked out,” he said evenly, straining to not appear emotionally involved. “Not to mention she only has an ink-jet printer and no scanner capabilities.”

King assessed him with a scowl as Tom, in an effort he hoped wasn't visible, held his gaze with an impassive look. “Then it looks like someone is going to a lot of trouble to make her look bad. Why do you suppose that is?”

“I don't know, sir. But clearly whoever sent this was privy to what went down in this morning's meeting.”

With one eyebrow raised, the mayor slipped on his sunglasses. “Apparently, as were you.”

Not about to be baited, Tom reached for his coffee, rather than respond.

“I don't appreciate being in the middle of whatever cat and mouse game this person is playing, so I suggest you find out who's behind the letter and text message. Wouldn't you agree, Chief?”

“Of course. Don't leave any stone unturned, Parker. That's an order.”

Whoa. What just happened?
As the pair walked out, Tom sat back, stunned. Here he'd been disgruntled with the whole conversation, and all of a sudden he'd been ordered—ordered, no less!—to find out what he'd wanted to find out anyway. Good thing too. With his growing suspicions of just what GPC was capable of, he had a bad feeling this cat and mouse game could turn deadly.

The instant Tom stepped through the library door, Julie's eyes sparkled his way. If she weren't Kate's friend, and married, he'd think she were flirting. More likely, flirting with the idea of being a matchmaker.

He smiled, then immediately nixed the reaction. He needed to run this investigation by reason, not emotion.

“How can I help you, Detective?” Julie asked as he reached the checkout counter.

On the bulletin boards behind her, brightly colored signs announced upcoming events and a large graph measured how many books each of the children in their book club had read to date in their summer reading challenge. Laughter drifted from the children's area to the right of the counter, where another librarian was reading to a group of youngsters.

“Do you keep a log of which patrons use your computers?” Tom scanned the faces of the youth monopolizing the half-dozen computers available to patrons. According to King's cell phone provider, the text had originated from an IP address matching the library's network, not a cell phone. The sender had identified him or herself as Kate and entered a bogus phone number, but he or she could've been anyone.

“The computers?” Julie repeated, looking a little dumbfounded. “Uh, sure.”

“May I see it?”

“What's this about?”

“A police matter.” No way did he want this getting back to Kate unnecessarily. No reason for them both to burn ulcers worrying about this guy's ulterior motives.

Julie grabbed a binder from the end of the counter. “We have really strong filters on our system. The kids aren't supposed to be able to access anything bad.”

“It's nothing like that,” he assured.

“That's a relief.” She flipped open the binder to the bookmarked page. “This is where people sign in. Summer is our busiest time. Lots of kids waiting to get on, so each one is allowed half an hour.”

He began copying down the names, none of which, at first glance, set off any alarm bells.

“Want me to just photocopy the pages for you?” Julie spoke up.

“That'd be great.” Tom shoved the binder back across the counter, wracked by sudden doubts this lead would pan out the way he'd hoped.

She snapped open the binder rings, pulled out two pages, then frowned.

“What's wrong?”

“A page must be missing.” She pointed to the first entry at 11:00 a.m. “We open at 10:00, and like I said, we always have lots of people vying for the computers all day.” She flipped back another page. “It's not here.”

“Do you happen to recall who came in first thing this morning?”

“Actually, I didn't come in until noon. I'll ask Barb.” Julie disappeared through a door marked for employees only, and it occurred to Tom that the text message could have been sent from a staff computer too. According to the tech rep he'd talked to on the phone, the network assigned the final sequential digit of the IP address in the order the computers logged on to the system, which meant the same computer could be assigned several different IP addresses over the course of the day, depending on how many times it'd been rebooted.

At the circle of computers, a teen called over his friend and pointed to something on the screen. They then traded places.

Clearly, identifying his text writer wasn't going to be as straightforward as he hoped.

Julie returned a moment later with his copies. “Barb says they had a problem with the computers this morning. No one got onto them before 11:00.”

“Thanks. Could you tell me who had access to staff computers today?”

“That would be Barbara Owens and Mrs. Peabody and me. Oh, and we always have a couple of student volunteers, but they don't go on the computers. Anything else I can help you with?”

He scanned the sheets she'd given him. None of the names meant anything to him. As much as he hadn't wanted to worry
Kate with this latest development, he'd have to ask her to look them over. “A few of these are signed with only initials. Can you tell me who they are?”

“Yeah, our regulars—all kids. Tony Trace, Susan Leonard, Nikki Kite, and . . .” Julie tapped her pen on the counter as her gaze drifted to the far wall. Finally she shook her head. “Not sure who PL is.”

Another librarian joined them. “Hey Barb, do you know who PL is?”

Barb glanced at the log book entry Julie pointed to. “Pedro Lopez, maybe. He comes in pretty often. Not usually on a weekday, though.”

Pedro, yes!
Kate had said the kid made her nervous. Tom snatched up the papers and hurried to the door. “Thanks!”

As he jogged back to his car, he reviewed potential scenarios. Kate had said Lucetta was hanging around outside the meeting room this morning . . . listening in? She could've asked her nephew to send the incriminating text. But why?

He'd assumed their letter writer and texter were one and the same. But how would either Pedro or Lucetta come up with all that semi-believable dirt on the mayor, let alone know his personal cell phone number? Unless . . .

Maybe Lucetta knew King's housekeeper. The help always knew everybody's dirt. Maybe they were really only after the mayor and figured Kate's name, as a research scientist, carried the authority needed to convince the paper to print their letter.

Yeah, he'd like nothing more than to believe Kate was an unwitting victim here, but his gut told him that was wishful thinking.

Then again, employers were always underestimating the intelligence of their house staff, and from his experience, the staff
always knew exactly what was going on. Maybe the mayor's housekeeper decided the town should know too and elicited Pedro and Lucetta's help.

Sliding into his car, Tom glanced at the dashboard clock. Lucetta might already be on her way to Kate's for their cleaning spree. If Lucetta was behind both the counterfeiting and these messages, who knew how she'd react if Kate provoked her with a barrage of questions.

He turned in the direction of Kate's house. With any luck, Lucetta's nephew would give her a lift like he had the other day, and Tom could question them both at once.

Ten minutes later, Tom knocked on Kate's door for the third time. He'd seen her bedroom window blinds close as he pulled up to the house. She was in there.

The door edged open and Kate appeared behind the screen door, her red hair mussed, one eye squinted closed. “What are you doing here?” Pain tinged her voice.

He tugged open the screen door. “What's wrong?”

“Migraine.” She plodded to the sofa and laid down, pressing an ice pack to the back of her neck.

“Can I get you a pain pill or something?”

She rolled her head his direction. “I've already taken all I'm allowed.” She curled onto her side and moaned as if she'd been suddenly punched. Her breathing came in short gasps.

He dropped to his knees at her side, feeling as if he'd been punched too. “Try to take deep breaths.” He picked up the ice pack she'd let drop and held it to the back of her neck. If hearing about the fate of her father's arresting officers had done this to her, then he really didn't want to mention the mayor's text message.

Her breathing evened out. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I guess you canceled your plans with Lucetta?”

“Oh, no. I forgot. I need to call—” She pushed herself up to a sitting position and instantly clutched her head.

Tom nudged her back down and set the ice pack on the end table. “I'll take care of calling her.” The questions he needed to ask Lucetta would be better handled in person, but not until he was sure Kate was going to be okay.

An old pickup rattled up the road as he pulled out his phone. “Looks like we're too late. I'll go out and let her know what's going on.”

Lucetta was already to the porch by the time he stepped outside. “Oh!” She jolted back a step. “I didn't expect—”

“I'm afraid Kate will need to reschedule.”

Pedro started to pull away.

Tom flagged him. “Hold up, Pedro. Your aunt's going to need a ride,” he called out over the rumble of the kid's noisy muffler. “Kate's ill,” Tom explained to Lucetta, walking her back to the truck. “She's sorry she wasn't able to notify you before you made the trip out.”

“This happens,” Lucetta said in broken English.

Tom paused with his hand on the truck door, keeping her from climbing in. “Before you go, do you happen to know who keeps house for the mayor?”

“No, he looking for a housekeeper?” she asked eagerly.

So much for that theory. “Not that I know of, no. I thought perhaps you might know who works for him.”

“No, I not know many people.”

He darted a glance Pedro's direction to see if his reaction gave anything away, because listening to Lucetta's choppy English, Tom realized it was unlikely she'd written the letter to
the editor. “How about you? You know anyone connected to the mayor?” Tom asked Pedro through the open passenger window. A sickening combination of diesel fuel and rotten food wafted from the interior.

Pedro shook his head. His hands didn't tighten around the steering wheel. Not a single muscle so much as twitched at the question. Either he was a gifted liar or he had nothing to do with the mayor's text message.

“Were you on one of the computers at the library this afternoon?” Tom asked directly.

The kid snorted. “You kidding? The boss never lets us out early.”

“It's nice of him to let you use the company truck to drive your aunt. Didn't he let you leave work earlier this week to pick her up?”

His eyes narrowed. “What's with all the questions?”

From the corner of his eye, Tom noted that Lucetta began to squirm. Anxious to get away, he could understand. But was it because he'd gotten too close to the truth? The only thing keeping Pedro from taking off was waiting for Tom to let his aunt inside the truck. Tom clasped the door handle as if to open it for her.

“I need to talk to anyone who used the library computers today. One was signed out to a PL. The librarian said that was you.”

“Not today. Ask my boss. I didn't leave work until 5:00.”

Tom opened the door. “Yeah, I'll do that.”

Lucetta slid Pedro a nervous glance but avoided making eye contact with Tom. An ingrained reaction to the police? Or did she mistrust her nephew as much as he did?

As they pulled away from the curb, an animated discussion
erupted in the pickup's cab. But was Pedro vehemently shaking his head because he was innocent, or guilty? Tom text-messaged Hank. Pedro probably had no idea his boss was the father of the chief of police. They'd know soon enough if Pedro could've been in the library this afternoon or not.

When Tom turned back to the house, Kate stood at the front door watching him through the screen. “What were you talking about with Lucetta and Pedro for so long?”

He shrugged as if the conversation was no big deal. “I had a few questions.”

A smile played on her lips. Surprising, considering how dragged out she'd been only minutes ago. Her pain medicine must have kicked in. “You know I can always tell when you're hedging.”