Mayes, Casey - A Deadly Row

“Are you kidding me? I like to think I’m pretty self-sufficient, but I’m also pragmatic about it. If someone’s got me in his sights, I’d just as soon have you around, instead of being two hours away.”

He nodded. “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t be able to get anything done here; I’d be worrying about you the entire time.” He turned to Davis. “Let’s see the rest of those photographs. Maybe something I see will make some sense of this mess.”

“It’s all upstairs,” he said. “We were just getting ready to form a task force, so I had my men take everything up there.”

“Who all is on this task force of yours?” Zach asked.

Davis grinned slightly. “Well, so far, there’s you.”

“Don’t forget my assistant,” he said.

“I’m not sure I’m all that thrilled with that title,” I said.

“But you’ll take it, right?”

“You bet. I don’t care what you call me, as long as you let me in on what’s going on.”

Davis led us upstairs, and we came to a large, empty conference room with five white boxes perched on a long, folding table. The walls were blank, and there wasn’t a window in the place. Against one wall were six folding chairs and a few more tables, but there wasn’t another thing in the room.

“We can do better than this,” Davis said.

“It’s fine,” Zach said. “I can use the wall space to pin everything up, or you can bring in some foil-backed foam insulation board if you don’t want to ruin your walls.” The construction foam board was a favorite of my husband’s. It came in four by eight foot sheets, and it took pushpins beautifully.

“I’ll have them here within an hour, and I’ll also have a copier moved in,” Davis said. “Do you need anything else at the moment?”

“No, we’re good,” Zach said, barely even acknowledging the man’s presence. I knew my husband too well. He was already deep in thought about how to catch this killer, and I was going to do everything in my power to help him.

“It might help if you gave me a little information about what’s been happening,” I said.

Zach looked at me, clearly distracted by my question, but if I was going to be of any assistance, I had to have some information.

“So far, there have been two murders that are connected o the threat on Grady. A high-society businessman with a lot of different companies, Hank Tristan, was discovered in his bed stabbed in the heart after a charity ball. The second victim, Cindy Glass, was a little less prominent, a personal assistant to a very important man in Charlotte, but the notes sent afterward along with the souvenirs were from the same person, so we know they’re linked somehow.”

I knew what the distraction was costing my husband, and though I wanted more details, I understood I had to be satisfied with the information I had. We set up the other tables and chairs, and Zach started digging through the boxes.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” I asked. “Maybe I can help you.”

“This looks like everything was just dumped into a box without any rhyme or reason. I need to make sense of it, but before I can do that, I have to get it organized.”

“That’s something I can help with. My whole job as a puzzle maker is to find order in chaos.”

He whistled under his breath, a sure sign that he wanted to say something to me that he didn’t think I was going to like.

“Zach, don’t think of me as your wife right now. Treat me like an assistant and tell me what you’d like me to do.”

“Some of these photos are kind of graphic,” he said. “I’m not crazy about having you look at them.”

“I can handle it,” I said, though if I were being honest about it, the prospect of looking at dead bodies was pretty mortifying to me.

“Tell you what. You handle the official police documents, and I’ll deal with the rest.”

I started to protest when he added, “It’s the way I want it done, and I expect my assistant to do as she’s asked.”

“Just as long as you don’t expect your wife to follow orders,” I said.

“Do I look that crazy to you?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Find the case files for the two murders,” Zach said. “If you see any pictures or letters, anything that doesn’t look like an official police document, put it in a pile over by the door. Stack your files on the table. Let’s get started.”

As I searched through the boxes, I did my best to ignore the content of the photographs I found and tried to focus on their shapes and sizes instead. Once I forced myself to look at them as geometric objects and not photographs that would give me nightmares, things started going much faster. Sorting things was like a puzzle, and that was one thing I loved, and happened to be very good at as well.

We’d just finished doing a preliminary sort when the door opened and two police officers came in, each carrying a sheet of foam insulation board.

“Hey, Chief,” one of the cops said.

My husband brightened. “Sanders, how are you?”

They shook hands, and Zach introduced us. “Savannah, you remember Steve Sanders. He was my number one go-to guy around here before I left.”

“Deserted is more like it,” Sanders said with a grin. He was tall and lanky, with a shock of thick black hair and a clean-shaven face. I knew that he’d been in the running to take over for my husband as chief when he left, but if Steve minded them promoting Davis over him, he didn’t show it.

Zach smiled gently. “Hey, they forced me out, remember?”

“I know, I’m just kidding.” He looked around at the mess on the floor. “This place looks like a bomb just went off. Do you need a hand?”

“Thanks, but I’ve already got an assistant,” he said, pointing at me.

“Three could be better than two,” Steve said.

“Let me sort this out, and then I’ll let you know.”

“I’d do anything for you, Chief, and you know it.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m getting ready to get off, but I’d be happy to hang around.”

“You could put in for overtime, if you don’t mind helping,” Zach said.

“Excellent. It will be just like old times. What’s the first order of business?”

“Find Davis and remind him that I need that copier as soon as possible. We’ve got some work to do.”

After he was gone, I looked at Zach. “Does this mean I’m fired already? Wow, that’s quick.”

“Of course not,” he said. “Steve can help me make copies and hang this stuff up, but then you’re back on the payroll. In the meantime, why don’t you get us checked in and settled at the hotel? You know how much I hate unpacking.”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get rid of me?”

He wrapped me up in his arms. “Savannah, I’d never do that, even if I could.”

“Which you can’t,” I answered with a grin and a quick peck. “I know you’re just trying to protect me, and I appreciate it, but I’m tougher than you think.”

“Trust me, I know how tough you are.”

“Okay, as long as that’s settled, I’ll take off.” As I started for the door, I paused and said, “But don’t think you’re getting rid of me for good.”

“Come back when you’re finished. You can help me lay things out. There are times when I can use that organizing point of view you’ve got.”

“See you soon.”

I bumped into Steve in the hallway, and found him deep in conversation with someone on his cell phone. It was pretty clear that he wasn’t happy with whoever was on the other end, but when he spotted me, the frown changed into a smile.

“Hang on one second,” he said as he buried his phone into his chest. “My landlord’s trying to go up on my rent,” he explained to me, “and I’m trying to convince him how handy it is having a cop live there.”