For once, business had slowed down in the Crab Cake Capital of the World, at least for the detectives working the police department’s night shift. Niles Gule and his partner Mariella Cruz had closed their last two hot cases, leaving them with ostensibly nothing to do. As a reward for work well done, their supervisor, Sergeant Tan Lo dumped a handful of cold cases on them to keep them busy. Didn’t want his vampire and the most hot-headed member of his team twiddling their thumbs and getting into trouble. Which was why the pair was driving across the city just after nightfall on the hunt for new leads to old problems.
Niles leaned his forehead against the cold glass of the passenger door of Cruz’s miniscule powder-blue Fiat as she drove at lightning speed through the small city.
“We’re chasing ten-year-old leads,” he commented in a desultory tone. “No need to race after them. They aren’t going anywhere.”
Cruz shot him a disparaging look. “I’m driving my normal speed.”
“Yeah. Too fast.”
She smacked his arm with her hand and whipped around a turn.
The radio crackled to life. “11-54, suspicious vehicle at August Fells High School. Possible DUI or drugs.”
A familiar voice answered the call. “Unit 29 responding.”
Niles perked an eyebrow. “Jonas and Walter.”
Cruz’s luscious red lips curled into a smile. “Wanna check it out? Add a little interest to an otherwise boring night?”
Niles shrugged. “Sure. Maybe they’ll need our help. At least we can hope.”
He returned his blue gaze to the city lights racing past. He hadn’t been terribly interested in the case they’d chosen to tackle at the moment, the decade-old disappearance of a Monument girl. When a fifteen-year-old ran away from a foster home where she’d been beaten and starved, she was never coming back. Niles suspected she’d slipped out of town or fallen victim to predators. Either way, he doubted he and Cruz would discover anything new about her case after all these years. They’d count themselves lucky if they found her bones.
Cruz slowed approaching the high school. Locating the source of the call wasn’t difficult because Jonas Williams and Walter Cooksey had arrived before them. Their patrol car stood in the lot with its lights flashing red, white, and blue. Bathed in the glow of overhead stanchions, the two uniformed officers crowded around a silver Mercedes parked in an area marked for faculty and staff.
Shutting off her engine, Cruz pondered the scene. “What do you suppose was suspicious about a car like that?”
“A Mercedes in this neighborhood?”
Niles considered the tattered appearance of the homes around the school. A series of rowhomes filled the block opposite the school. Virtually all of them suffered from boarded up windows while a drift of trash butted up against their cracked foundations. “What could possibly be wrong with that?”
Cruz grunted and climbed out of the car.
“I swear they aren’t mine!” exclaimed a neatly dressed Black woman Niles placed in her late thirties.
Williams loomed over her by almost two feet. He stood with his hands on his hips glowering at her. “Yeah, right, lady.”
The woman turned to Cooksey, perhaps finding a more forgiving mien from the short, balding, chubby officer. “I’m sure you hear that all the time. But I swear! I have no idea where those drugs came from.”
Cooksey held his flashlight in one hand while the other pinched a plastic zip bag by its corner. Even in the uncertain light, Niles could make out a handful of white pills.
“Need any help?” Cruz asked, sauntering up.
Williams shook his head while his hand reached for his cuffs. “Nope. This one is simple. Found the drugs in her car.”
Niles studied the woman. She was African American, with lustrous dark hair straightened into a short bob that cut her at her chin. Her makeup was subdued. Her clothing was not expensive but wasn’t cheap either, a suit jacket in navy blue over a knee-length pencil skirt. She wore sensible heels and demur jewelry. A wedding ring flashed on her finger. Nothing about her screamed drug dealer, but then, Niles supposed, they came in all types.
“Why are you at the high school at this time of night?” Cruz asked. Like the two uniformed officers, she conveyed suspicion with every word.
The woman waved at the building. “I work here. I’m with the after-school program. Tutoring students, making sure they have a decent dinner, keeping them off the streets for at least a few hours. I run the program.” Unthinkingly she dug in her purse, causing all the officers freeze, but she merely retrieved a business card. “Jonesha Cartwright. I’ve worked here for ten years.”
Cruz accepted the card. Her eyes studied the drugs. “You’re claiming you didn’t put the drugs there. Do you normally lock your car?”
“In this neighborhood?” Jonesha snorted. “Yes. And it has an alarm.”
To prove her point, she tried to jimmy the door and the alarm sounded. She turned it off with a button push on her key fob.
Williams shot Niles a look. “Nice of her to prove no one could have stashed this shit without her permission.”
“I’m telling you I don’t do drugs,” Jonesha insisted. “I don’t buy drugs. I don’t sell drugs.” Given the situation, the lady kept a surprisingly cool attitude.
Niles decided to extend an olive branch. She seemed like a decent person. “Ok, let’s say you didn’t put the drugs in your car. How do you suppose they got there?”
“Obviously someone planted them.”
Williams snorted. Cooksey penciled notes rapidly on his notepad.
Cruz frowned. “Do you have an enemy who would want to do that?”
At first Jonesha’s face remained blank. Then a pall fell over it. Her cheeks sagged. Her eyes grew desperate. “Carmina Farrendale,” she spouted. She slapped her forehead. “Oh Lord! That woman must have done it!”
Niles pulled his minitab computer from his pocket and began thumbing notes of his own. “Who would that be?”
Jonesha flopped her arms against her hips in disgust. “She’s the parent of a student in the after-school program. A year ago, she accused me of attacking her son. He’d apparently fallen on the playground and bucked up his pants. For some reason, she decided I must have pushed him.”
“Did you?” Williams snapped.
Jonesha glared at the giant man. “Of course not! I don’t generally involve myself with the students directly. I manage the program. I locate volunteer tutors. Choose the dinner menus. Make sure everything runs smoothly. I don’t know why Carmina thought I’d attacked her son.” She gave the four officers a narrow look. “I think she’s got mental issues.”
“So what happened?” Cruz asked.
“She called my boss and tried to have me fired.” Jonesha shook her head. “When that didn’t work, she stood out front of the school handing out flyers telling everyone I was a drug addict and was selling drugs to their children. She stalked my house. Keyed my car. Finally, I was forced to take a restraining order out against her. Meanwhile, she’s sued me three times. Two of the claims were thrown out. The last one is still pending. It’s been a nightmare.” Jonesha gazed despairingly at her car. “Doing something like this is just up her alley.”
Niles considered the car. “Would she have access to the vehicle to plant the drugs?”
“Not here,” Jonesha admitted. “But I don’t lock it when it’s sitting in my driveway.” She gave the vampire a hard look. “She knows where I live.”
Williams had heard enough. “Sorry, lady. But I’ve got probable cause to run you in. You can tell your sob story to the judge.”
Jonesha gulped but she didn’t protest. Niles suspected she’d seen enough arrests in her years at the high school to know arguing with the police never ended well. He watched as Williams and Cooksey placed her in the back of their vehicle and drove off.
“What do you think?” Cruz asked her partner.
Niles shrugged. “Seemed like a nice enough lady. Maybe she’s telling the truth.”
Cruz smiled happily. “Which means, we are justified in investigating!” With a bounce, she headed to her car.
More slowly, Niles followed. If nothing else, he decided, the case would be more interesting than finding the girl from Monument.
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