Loving Again

chapter Twelve


Guilt — actually fear of getting caught — had kept Sam from any more snooping around his partner’s desk. But the next morning, delivering a cappuccino he’d gotten for her when he got his morning latte, he saw a report on fingerprints he couldn’t resist checking out.

What it said sent him back to his computer for a quick search of the old Webster case records.

And there it was: the fingerprints found on the glass from the big kiln at Bullseye belonged to Beal Matthews, a low-level thug hired by Tom Webster to run errands for the drug ring. He’d been dimed out by the cops who’d been involved in the operation, had served time for possession and been released about two months prior because of good behavior and jail overcrowding.

But it was Matthews booking photo that made him mutter, “I’ll be damned.” Staring back at him from his computer screen was the man he seen entering The Fairchild Gallery the day he and his partner interviewed Liz.

As the printer chugged out a copy of the photo, he called Matthews’ parole officer. The p.o. said Matthews had been a model prisoner and had been following all the rules since he’d been out. Sam got a home and work address as well as the information that Matthews had recently been doing some part-time work for a business in the Pearl, but the p.o. didn’t know where. Sam did.

He grabbed the copy of the booking photo and his coffee and headed out to his pickup before anyone — read, L.T. — could stop him or ask what he was working on.

At the car repair shop where Matthews worked, the owner said his employee had called in sick that morning, a first. Matthews wasn’t at his apartment, either. An apartment Sam wasn’t surprised to see was close to both Amanda’s studio and Bullseye.

He debated stopping by the GlassCo studio but decided not to. Amanda still hadn’t returned his calls and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what that meant just yet. Deal with one crisis at a time was his motto for the day.

Instead, he checked Eubie Kane’s neighborhood. Kane’s next-door neighbor thought Matthews might have been hanging out with Kane for the month or two before he was killed. The neighbor wasn’t positive. Kane’s new friend seemed shy, didn’t like to talk, always wore a hoodie with his face obscured or a baseball cap pulled down on his forehead.

Last, he went to The Fairchild Gallery where Liz confirmed that Beal Matthews was Mike Benson. She also told Sam about the gold bracelet he’d taken from her gallery to give to his hot new girlfriend for her birthday.

He hadn’t found his suspect but at least he could confirm for the parole officer where his client had been working part-time. And the mysteries of Robin Jordan’s gold bracelet and her secret boyfriend seemed to have been solved.

Sam drove back downtown to Central Precinct sure in his belief that Beal Matthews was the man they were looking for. All they had to do was find him.

• • •

Danny Hartmann couldn’t decide if she was pissed, scared or frustrated. Acting on the fingerprint information on her desk, she’d begun the legwork to track down Beal Matthews. Only to find out that every phone call, every visit was on the heels of one from Sam. She was pissed at his going off on his own, scared he’d get caught and suffer the consequences, frustrated that he didn’t trust her enough to take her into his confidence.

She almost blew off a visit to Amanda’s studio assuming Sam had gone there, too. But when she thought about it, he’d been adamant that Amanda had been out of contact so she took a chance and went to the GlassCo studio to see if Amanda recognized Beal Matthews. Only Leo Wilson was there. He identified the man in the photo as Mike, a guy who lived in the neighborhood and who’d dropped by a few times to talk about blowing glass.

She also learned “Mike” had asked a lot of questions about how they protected themselves from robbery when the area was deserted at night and Leo had told him about the gun they kept in the office. He couldn’t say for sure “Mike” knew where it was but it was possible he’d seen it when Leo had opened the drawer for a pen and paper to write down a phone number.

That left only one place to go — Amanda’s house.

“This isn’t a good time, Detective Hartmann,” Amanda said when she opened the door.

“It’ll only take a minute.” Hartmann pulled Matthews’ picture out of her leather bag. “Have you ever seen this guy?”

Danny watched Amanda’s expression harden. “I said, I can’t talk to you right now. Please go.”

“This is important. Leo says this guy dropped by the studio on several occasions. Maybe you saw his car? We think it’s an old Toyota hatchback.”

Shock broke through her neutral expression but Amanda still didn’t say anything.

Danny waited a few moments to see if there was more. “Nothing rings a bell?”

Amanda just stared at her.

“Couple other things might interest you: he’s been living about two blocks away from your studio and Bullseye.” She paused. “Oh, and he worked for Tom Webster selling drugs. Got out of prison a couple months back.”

The look of steely determination returned. “I have to go, Detective Hartmann.” Amanda started to close the door.

Danny put a foot on the threshold to keep the door from shutting. “We think he killed Eubie Kane and Robin Jordan. I also think he set out to mimic the circumstances of the Webster murder. Any idea why he’d want to do something like that?”

Amanda looked straight into Danny’s eyes. “Do you know how hard it was to get past the hell I went through last year because of what Tommy and a couple of your less-than-honorable colleagues did? I had to leave town to get away from the gossip even after the court acknowledged I wasn’t guilty of anything other than bad judgment in my personal life.”

“I appreciate what happened to you, Amanda.”

“I doubt that, Detective Hartmann. Portland can be a small town and it’s easy to have your reputation wrecked by careless police work and bad press coverage. I hope you never find out how easy.”

She pushed the door against Hartmann’s foot. “So, in case I haven’t been clear, listen up. I had nothing to do with what Tommy did; I had nothing to do with what happened at Bullseye. Other than that, I have nothing to say to you. And if you want to talk to me again, I need advance notice so I can have my lawyer with me.”

Hartmann removed her foot from the doorway. Amanda slammed the door.

• • •

“Hartmann. My office. Now.” L.T. bellowed from the door of his office. Everyone within earshot turned to see what was going on. No one could remember hearing Chris Angel yell like that before.

Sam looked up from his computer at his partner. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, “I have no idea,” and did as she had been commanded. Sam went back to what he’d been working on, afraid there would be another shoe dropped soon.

Less than five minutes later at an identical decibel level, Angel yelled, “Richardson. Now you.”

Angel closed the door behind him and waved Sam to a chair. Danny was sitting in another chair, looking subdued, the remains of a blush on her cheeks. He’d never seen her look so deflated.

“I got three phone calls this morning from a parole officer and two citizens asking why we were so disorganized that there were multiple visits within an hour from police officers asking the same questions. You know anything about that, Detective Richardson?”

“I don’t think so.”

“The hell you don’t. You were one of the officers asking questions about Kane/Jordan. After I directly told you to keep out of the case.”

“Multiple? Who … ?” He looked at his partner who nodded her head.

“Yeah, she was the other one. But she didn’t bother to tell me what you were up to. Did you ask her not to?” the lieutenant asked.

“I didn’t tell her anything. I wasn’t going to risk her career.”

“Just yours.”

“Which is mine to risk. I couldn’t sit around and do nothing.”

“You disobeyed a direct order. You mucked around with witnesses. You could have made them useless in a prosecution. You put your partner in an untenable situation.” Angel blew out a breath. “What the f*ck should I do with you?”

“Put me on administrative leave,” Sam said.

“So you can have an even freer rein to mess around in this case? Like hell I will. I was leaning more toward protective custody.”

Sam did a double take. “I didn’t do anything illegal.”

“The hell of it is, I’m at the place where I need you to be involved in this case. If you’d waited one more day … ”

“What do you want me to do?” Sam asked.

“I’m not sure I trust you to do what I ask.”

“I apologize. I thought I was onto something. I should have kept you in the loop. Now, please, let me help.” He hoped he sounded sincere. Because he was, about one thing — he sincerely believed he’d do anything to get back on this case.

Angel stared long enough at Sam to make him uncomfortable. “What the f*ck? I don’t really have much of a choice. Okay, Danny, tell him what you told me earlier.”

Danny said, “I was at Amanda’s house this morning. She wouldn’t let me in but we talked at the door. About two minutes into the conversation, something I said triggered a look on her face, like she was remembering something. Then the interview went off the cliff. She asked me to leave and not come back without an appointment so she could have her attorney with her.”

Angel said, “I was planning on asking you to see if she’d talk to you, Sam, before I found out what you’d been up to. Now … ”

“L.T., I know you’re not happy with either of us,” Danny began. “But you need to let Sam talk to her. I think she saw Matthews there that night. And he’s the only one who can find out if she did.”

“If she ID’s him, that puts her in danger until we have him in custody. You have his prints on the kiln and on that glass. Why do you need her?” Sam asked.

Angel hesitated, as if still not sure he should be letting Sam back in. Finally he said, “There are too many holes in the case.” He ticked them off. “No motive. The only good ID we have is Leo Wilson’s and that puts Matthews in the neighborhood along with anyone who works in the Fred Meyer corporate headquarters and the other neighbors. We can’t ID the Toyota as his. No car is registered in his name.” Angel came out from behind his desk and perched on the edge of it in front of Sam as he continued.

“He could tell us he left the prints on Kane’s glass and at Bullseye some other time and we couldn’t dispute it. If Amanda St. Claire can place him there at the right time that night, can connect the dots about the car, we’re on more solid ground.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Sam looked up at the ceiling, closed his eyes, shook his head, then looked at his boss. “This isn’t how I wanted back in, L.T.”

“It’s the best you’re gonna get from me at the moment. I need her cooperation. I have to use you.”

“Not sure she’ll even talk to me.”

“Nice to know you’re not any happier about this than I am. But I want this case wrapped up ASAP. Go do it.”

• • •

When the doorbell rang, Amanda was sure Danny Hartmann had returned and she answered, ready to give the cop a tongue-lashing.

But instead of the police detective, standing on her doorstep was the man in the photo Danny had shown her. The man who had stalked her while she shopped.

The man she’d seen at Bullseye the night two people were murdered.

She cleared her throat, sure her voice would wobble when she spoke. Finally she said, “Yes, can I help you? Are you lost?”

“No, Amanda. I’m exactly where I want to be.” Beal Matthews pushed past her into the hallway. “Now, we’re going to go open that safe and get out what you owe me.”

“What safe? There’s no safe, ” she said. She realized her mistake when she saw the furious look on his face. “That is, there’s nothing in the safe. It all went into my bank account. I told you. My banker will be getting the money tomorrow.”

“Bitch.” He slapped her across the face. “You’re lying. You stole from Tom, you killed him and got away with it, you’re still trying to cheat me. Show me where the damn safe is or that’s just a taste of what you’re in for.” Twisting her arm behind her, he shoved her toward the kitchen. “We’re going downstairs. That’s where it has to be. But I can’t find it. Move. Now.” He pulled a gun from his pocket. “Or I’ll use this.”

Chihuly appeared from the kitchen, growling at Matthews, teeth bared.

“Goddamn dog.” He pointed the gun at Chihuly’s head. “Get rid of him.”

Amanda tried to move in front of her dog. “Don’t hurt him.”

“You’re right. He didn’t cheat me out of what I earned. But if you don’t get rid of him, he’ll pay for what you did.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll put him out if you’ll let me go.” Followed by Matthews, Amanda led her dog by the collar to the back door and pushed him outside.

“Now, you, downstairs,” Matthews stuck the muzzle of the gun in her ribs.

She opened the door, flipped on the light at the top of the steps and descended, followed by Matthews. When she got to the bottom, she indicated the drifts of packing paper, empty storage boxes and other detritus on the floor and said, “I gather you’ve been here before. But knock yourself out.”

“You know where it is. Just show me.” He motioned her toward the rabbit warren of rooms beyond.

Amanda didn’t know what to do next. She had no idea if there was anything like a safe there, much less where it was. The police had looked. Sam had looked. Apparently Matthews had looked, too. No one had found anything.

She glanced around, wondering where to send him. She stored cobwebs, dust, and things she couldn’t bear to part with in the various small rooms but none of them had doors behind which to trap him nor was there anything she could see to use to disarm him.

“I can’t really remember where it is,” she began. “It was a long time ago when Tommy told me about it.”

He raised his hand to slap her again. She winced and his laugh was cocky-sounding, as if sure of his power over her. “You’re too young to have that bad a memory. Tell me or I’ll use this in a way you won’t like.” He leveled the gun at her. “Your boyfriend won’t be so crazy about you if that pretty face is all messed up.”

She put her hand up as if to ward off whatever he had in mind, then pointed toward the front of the house. “Wait, now I remember, it was behind the furnace.” It was all she could think of. Maybe while he was back there, she could find a weapon, get out the back door. Something.

“There?” he said, gesturing toward the front wall.

She nodded.

“Move over here where I can see you while I look.”

Amanda did as he ordered. As soon as he had squeezed behind the furnace and was occupied inspecting the wallboard, she looked around again for something to use as a weapon. The only thing that looked likely was a rake propped against the wall with other garden tools. She began to edge her way toward it.

Then, through the small window at ground level in the front of the house, she saw a black Mercedes pull up at the curb. Drake Vos got out and began to walk up the path to her front door. The relief that washed over her was so overwhelming her knees almost buckled. If she could get upstairs, Drake would help her keep Matthews there until they called the police.

When Matthews was completely behind the furnace, she made a run for the steps. Once upstairs in the kitchen, she locked the door to the basement and ran to open the front door.

“Drake, thank God. I’ve got the man who killed Eubie Kane and Robin Jordan in the basement. We have to call the police. Do you have a phone?”

Drake pulled a gun from his jacket pocket. “This will be more useful, I think.”

“Yes, that’ll help keep him here until they get here. But we have to call nine-one-one. I’ll go get my … ”

“No, Amanda. You won’t.” He took her arm. “I wouldn’t want the police interrupting the job that Mr. Matthews and I have to take care of. Now, how about we join my colleague downstairs and finish this up.”