Thirty-Two and a Half Complications
Page 7

Taylor cleared his throat. “No. I’m just saying it’s an odd coincidence. You can’t deny it, Deveraux.”
Mason pressed his lips into a tight line and crossed his arms again.
Taylor gave me a sideways glance, the tiniest bit of a smirk in his eyes. “And how much money was in that bag of yours, Ms. Gardner?”
“About three hundred dollars in checks.” I took a breath, feeling like I was gonna throw up. “And nine thousand in cash.”
The detective’s pen stopped mid-stroke and he looked up at me with narrowed eyes. “Why’d you have so much cash?”
“Mr. O’Leary paid me yesterday for a job we’d finished at his place.”
“And he paid you in cash.” His mouth twisted to the side. “That’s an awful lot of cash.”
I shrugged, uneasiness crawling up my back and burrowing in the base of my head. “It was a big job.”
“Nine thousand exactly? Not a dollar more or less?”
Mason took a step forward, his voice deep and commanding. “What are you getting at, Taylor?”
“It just seems odd that it’s such a round number.” He shrugged. “It’s an observation. No more.”
Mason’s jaw twitched again, but his face was expressionless. “You seem to be making a lot of unnecessary observations.”
The police officer shrugged, nonplussed. “Just doing my job, Mr. ADA. You’re griping all the time about us being sloppy and not asking enough questions.” He flourished the notebook he’d been writing in at Mason. “This is me doing my job.”
Mason’s eyes darkened.
I shifted my weight, feeling the need to break the tension. “I had initially given him a higher quote, but Mr. O’Leary insisted he wouldn’t give me the job if it was a penny more than nine thousand.” I took a breath. “We weren’t going to make much of a profit anyway, and we kept running into problems from start to finish. Now I’m gonna have a hard time paying Bruce Wayne’s paycheck.” All the more reason I needed to recover the cash.
“And do you routinely deal in cash?” Taylor asked.
Mason looked furious. “It’s none of your damn business how Rose handles her money for the shop, Taylor.”
The detective glanced at Mason with mock innocence. “I agree. I’m merely tryin’ to gather all the facts is all.”
We all knew that was a bald-faced lie, but there was no use protesting.
“And do you know anything else that might help us in this investigation?”
I did, but I couldn’t tell anyone who didn’t know about my ability…and I especially couldn’t tell him. “No,” I said, my tone making it clear that it was my final comment.
Taylor stuck his notebook inside his coat pocket. “Well, alrighty then. I’m gonna get the other statements. You’re free to go, but if I have any other questions, I’ll look you up.” He cast a derisive look at Mason. “Looks like I know where to find you.”
I frowned when I realized Mason had missed the detective’s sneer. “Yeah.”
Mason watched Taylor walk out of the office. “One of these days, the Henryetta Police Department is going to get cleaned out just like the sheriff’s department was,” he said. I could hear the lingering hurt in his voice. We’d helped uncover a leak in the sheriff’s department after Crocker’s escape, and unfortunately, it had been Mason’s friend Chief Deputy Dimler.
I made a face. “Don’t count on it. According to Aunt Bessie, they’ve been inept since before I was born.” The lack of photos in the office unnerved me. “Don’t you think it’s strange Mr. Sullivan didn’t come in today of all days?”
“It definitely seems like more than a coincidence.”
I stood and moved around the side of the desk, examining the walls. “I was in his office this past summer when I applied for my business loan. He had photos of his wife and his son at the boy’s high school graduation and another from his family trip to Cancun the year before. It seems odd that they’re gone.”
Mason turned to take in the room. “It most certainly does. I’ll be sure to have Taylor follow up on it.”
I stared out the window at the parking lot, my eyes finding the empty space where the getaway car had been parked. “Mason, there’s something I couldn’t tell Detective Taylor.”
His head jerked toward me. “What?”
“I had a vision. While the guy with the SpongeBob mask was holding my face.”
His eyes widened. “He was holding your face? Why didn’t you tell Taylor that?”
I waved my hand. “That’s not important. The vision is. The robber was in an old barn next to the getaway car, and he was talking to his accomplice. But the guy wasn’t wearing the Batman mask anymore. I saw his face.”
“You’re kidding.” He shook his head, dazed. “What did he look like?”
“He had long scraggly blond hair. He was pale-skinned and looked like he was in his late twenties, early thirties.”
“What else did you see?”
“Nothing really, but the robber said they didn’t get enough money. That the ‘rat bastard’”—I used air quotes—“hadn’t come through and they needed more.”
Mason watched me for several seconds and then scooped me up in a hug, giving me a hard kiss. “You have no idea how helpful that is.”