Killer Headline Read online

  Again, not the stories she wanted to write.

  Bracing for the worst, Violet squared her shoulders. She would face her executioner with her head held high. No sniveling. No begging to keep her job.

  Okay, maybe a little begging.

  “You wanted to see me,” she said stepping into Stu’s office. He held the hard copy of her police article in his hands. She braced for the worst.

  “The article you submitted…”

  In her mind’s eyes, she saw the sharp blade of the guillotine suspended above her head. The sound of falling metal seemed almost real.

  Raising her hand to her throat, she swallowed. “Yes?”

  “Nice job.”

  The guillotine screeched to a stop inches from its mark. She blinked.

  “Excellent writing.”

  Excellent? Stu rarely spoke in superlatives. The lump in her stomach softened to molten gold. Her knees went weak. She’d take excellent.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “It’ll run on tomorrow’s front page. I’ll probably assign you a follow-up later.”

  Before she turned toward the door, she saw the sunlight shimmer on the Clark Fork as bright as her mood after the current turn of events.

  Trying not to giggle, she left Stu’s office. The newsroom bustled with activity. No one noticed her exuberance or the elation that buoyed her step. Was she walking over the hardwood floor or floating?

  Excellent! How ’bout that! Finally, a positive from Stu. Things were turning her direction for a change. Maybe the article on the murdered women would see the light of day after all.

  Jimmy poked his head out of Quinn’s cubicle as she passed. “Trying to one-up me.” Once again, his smile lacked sincerity.

  He couldn’t have heard Stu. “One-upping you in what way, Jimmy?”

  “Your article.” He pointed to Stu’s open door. “He looked pleased.”

  “I’m sure Stu’s happy about your work, as well.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Violet glanced around Jimmy and caught Quinn’s eye. Pursed lips, creased forehead. His expression brought to mind his words of caution the other night. He’d mentioned Jimmy’s desire to get ahead.

  Maybe Quinn was right. Maybe she needed to be more careful around Jimmy.

  She approached her desk, remembering the missing files. Jimmy had gone into her voice mail to retrieve Clay’s message the night he’d arrived in Missoula. Had Jimmy gone into her files to read and then delete the information she had compiled on the Chicago Mafia? She was beginning to think Jimmy was anything but a friend.

  Glancing into the hallway, Violet smiled as the elevator door opened and Clay stepped into the hallway. “Grab your coat and purse. We’ve got an appointment to talk with Chief Howard.”

  “About what?”

  “Your aunt Lettie.”

  “Did you find out something about her murder?” Violet asked, hurrying to keep up with Clay as they left the Plaza Complex and headed to his car.

  “You’re a reporter, Violet. You deal with facts.”

  He opened the passenger door and slammed it closed after her. She waited as he rounded the car and climbed behind the wheel.

  “Cops investigate crime,” he continued as he turned the key in the ignition. “They deal in facts, as well.”

  “So how’s this involve my aunt?”

  Clay pulled into the middle lane, heading for police headquarters. “Whatever happened when you were a child affects your view of law enforcement.”

  “I trust you, Clay. We talked about it last night.”

  “But you still have a problem with cops. Chief Howard was a rookie in your hometown. Let’s see what he remembers about Lettie’s death.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my memory, if that’s what you’re suggesting.” She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead, wishing she’d stayed at the paper. What could the chief tell her that she didn’t already know?

  “Trust me. Okay?” Clay looked at her with such sincerity that some of her resolve weakened. Could new evidence have come to light?

  She’d listen to what the chief had to say—not that it would change what she knew to be true about her aunt’s death. Even if the chief shed new information about the crime, Violet would still struggle with the cops.

  She flicked a sideways glance at Clay. Present company excluded, of course.

  Chief Howard stood and shook Clay’s hand when they walked into his office.

  “Good to see you, Violet.” He motioned them toward two chairs that sat in front of his desk.

  Clay got right to the point. “As I told you when I called you this morning, we want to talk to you about the murders in Violet’s hometown and what the cops uncovered.”

  The chief nodded as he took his seat behind his desk. He gave Violet a long, hard look before he spoke. “Everett Kramer—Violet’s dad—was a good man. Hard working. Trying to support his wife and daughter. After his parents died, he took in his kid sister. Lettie was pretty as a picture but headstrong.”

  “Stubborn,” Violet clarified.

  “Did she have a boyfriend?” Clay asked.

  “Brad Meyer was his name.” Violet thought back to the night Lettie had died. Her aunt had dabbed perfume on her neck and wrists and had let Violet dab her wrists, as well.

  “Brad ran with a bad crowd,” the chief explained. “We questioned him, but he had an alibi for both murders. A number of his friends had been picked up on possession a few nights before the first murder. Lettie claimed she’d seen someone drive away from the school with the girl on the afternoon the teen was killed.”

  Violet crossed her legs. “Not that anyone believed her.”

  The chief nodded. “Everyone thought she made up the story to protect her brother. Then Lettie ended up dead.”

  “Was the M.O. the same for both victims?” Clay asked.

  Rubbing his jaw, the chief stretched back in his chair. “Both died from a broken neck. The teen’s body was found in a clearing not far from her school. Lettie’s body was uncovered near the main highway.”

  “My dad worked at the school the teen attended,” Violet said. “He’d gone back to college and had made the long commute down here to UMT for a weekend-only program geared toward older students. Dad graduated that December and landed a long-term, substitute-teaching position in January that would have lasted until the end of school term.”

  The chief nodded in agreement. “Talk was he would have picked up a permanent position for the next year.”

  Clay held up his hand. “Let me guess, he lost his job after the girl’s murder.”

  “You got it. My dad had tutored the teen the day she’d died and was the last person to see her alive.”

  “Except for the killer.” Clay gave Violet an encouraging smile. “Were the two victims friends?”

  “Lettie was nineteen,” the chief said. “She ran with an older crowd. The younger girl’s reputation wasn’t lily-white. She’d been involved with a number of boys. Had a couple of parties at her house when her mom—a single parent—was out of town.”

  “Previous drug use?”

  “Not that the police knew. And no signs of abuse or molestation.”

  “Did Lettie get a look at the guy driving the teen?”

  The chief shrugged. “She was about thirty yards from the road when the car passed. She couldn’t ID the driver, although she was sure it wasn’t her brother.”

  Violet bristled. “So, it was guilt by association?”

  The chief held up his hands. “You’re jumping to the wrong conclusion. The Granite Pass cops were thorough.”

  Clay raised a brow. “Were they, Chief?”

  Howard paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, they tried to intimidate Everett. But he refused to offer any additional information.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know anything else about the case,” Clay offered.

  Chief Howard nodded. “Maybe.”

  “Lettie might have been killed becau
se she’d seen the murderer. The perp could have been afraid she’d be able to recognize him?”

  “That’s certainly a possibility, Clay. In a way, discovering Lettie’s body eased the suspicion on Everett. Seemed logical the same killer had committed both crimes. Everett and Lettie were close. Too much of a stretch to think he’d killed his sister. The wife and Lettie got along.”

  “I idolized her,” Violet said.

  “The Kramers had been the perfect little family until all this happened,” the chief said.

  Clay hesitated for a moment. “You seem pretty sure of how things went down that long ago, Chief.”

  A smile twisted his lips. He pulled a worn notebook from his desk. “I reviewed my notes after you called this morning. I was a new recruit fresh out of the Police Academy when the murders occurred. Although wet behind my ears, I was smart enough to know I had a lot to learn.”

  He patted the leather cover. “My staff calls me a detail man. My mother says I was born that way. I jotted down everything about the case in this little book.”

  “Any chance I could review your notes?”

  “Why not?” The chief tossed the notebook into Clay’s outstretched hand.

  Not wanting to take more of the chief’s time, Clay extended his right hand. “Thank you, sir, for the information.”

  “Been great talking to you, Clay.” Chief Howard’s handshake was firm, his smile encouraging. “You ever get tired of Chicago and want to settle down in our neck of the woods, let me know.”

  Sounded like the chief was offering him a job, which Clay appreciated. Although if the inquiry in Chicago decided against him, Clay doubted he’d find a job in law enforcement anywhere. He’d be banned from the work he loved just the way Violet’s father had been banned from education.

  Hard place for a man to be. Especially with a wife and daughter at home, needing to be fed. Tough times for the Kramer family had to have gotten worse.

  Clay reached for the leather notebook as the chief shook Violet’s hand. Maybe progress had been made after all.

  “Let’s get lunch,” Clay said once they climbed into the car. They found a quiet sandwich shop and spent the next thirty minutes eating pastrami on rye and reading Chief Howard’s notebook.

  “Most times apprehending a perpetrator requires common sense and endless hours checking details and running down leads,” Clay explained. “Sometimes those who work a case are too close to see the obvious, and the very detail that should provide the solution can be inadvertently overlooked.”

  He called Jackson and asked him to circulate Lettie’s boyfriend’s name on the street. Hard to imagine anything would come of it, but crimes were solved sometimes in the most illogical ways.

  Clay wanted to make everything better for Violet before he returned to Chicago. His gut tightened, knowing the longer he was around her, the harder it would be to leave.

  After lunch, Clay dropped Violet at her office and spent the next few hours calling his own sources in Chicago. He’d worked undercover long enough to have a pulse on the Windy City. At least the South side.

  Violet was dead set on protecting women in Witness Protection, so he sent out feelers to see what he could find. Although he told himself it was an afterthought, he also threw the name of Aunt Lettie’s boyfriend into the mix. Jackson had his street sources. Clay knew others. Between them, if the guy had spent any time in Chicago, someone would know.

  Clay’s cell rang. He pulled it to his ear, surprised to hear Chief Howard’s voice. “You need to know a bit more about Violet’s past. I didn’t want to tell you while she was in my office.”

  “Yes, sir.” Clay waited for the chief to explain.

  “Shame to see how the town acted toward the family. You would have thought they’d all been tried and convicted of the crime. As I mentioned, Everett—Violet’s dad—lost the position at the school, and everyone knew he’d never get a job involving kids again. He couldn’t find work. The family suffered, of course. Lettie’s death compounded the situation. Financial problems and being ostracized by just about the whole town had to have taken its toll.”

  Clay thought of Violet. Only a child, but old enough to be aware of what had happened.

  “When the local garbage hauler moved east, Everett rented a truck and started his own company. Must say, he’s done well for himself.”

  “Has the town forgotten?”

  “The family found acceptance in a small church community. The other folks in town? Hard to say. Violet inherited her father’s go-it-alone characteristics. Either that or she’d been hurt too many times. Top of her class. Top in just about everything. Seemed she always had to prove herself.”

  Clay’s heart went out to Violet. No wonder she fought to get ahead even now. Old habits were hard to break. She’d always been the odd man out. Never accepted by the other kids, the memory of the murder always hanging over her head.

  By two o’clock, he was heading back to the Plaza Complex when he passed a floral shop. Women like flowers, and he and Violet had become partners, so to speak. They could celebrate their new working relationship over dinner tonight. The flowers would be a way to express his thanks. Violet finally seemed to realize Clay was here to help, not hinder her work.

  Clay saw Violet as soon as he stepped off the elevator, and the ripple of excitement that passed through his body confirmed he was committed to their new relationship. Violet was more than a woman who needed protection. She had opened his eyes to other needs, as well. He’d caught himself, only this morning, thinking about settling down, perhaps starting a family. Thoughts that he’d pushed away for too long.

  He stepped toward her and held out the bouquet. “Flowers for a beautiful lady.” Corny, but he wasn’t the best with words.

  “How ’bout dinner tonight? Bernice said there’s a new French restaurant. I can make reservations for seven or seven-thirty, depending on when you get off work.”

  “Oh, Clay, that sounds wonderful.”

  He smiled.

  “But I already have plans.”

  His smile faded.

  “A guy from college is coming into town.”

  Clay’s euphoria vanished. “We’ll do it another time.”

  “I could tell him I’m tied up,” she offered.

  “No reason to change your date.” Jimmy was a college friend. How many guys did she have hanging around? “Just be careful and remember to lock your doors.”

  “Thanks again for installing those dead bolts.”

  “You used them when you left this morning, didn’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “What about the locksmith? Have you contacted him?”

  “It’s on my list of things to do.”

  “Call me if you have any problems.” Even if it involves the old boyfriend, Clay wanted to add. “It’s none of my business, but this guy you’re going out with, do you trust him?” Did Clay notice a moment of hesitation?

  “Of course I trust him,” Violet said with conviction. “Ross is a nice guy.”

  “Nice guys come in last,” Clay muttered as he rode the elevator to the first floor and walked into the cold crisp winter air. Probably the surveillance he’d been pulling, but he felt tired.

  Climbing into his car, he slammed the door. What was his problem? He shouldn’t be upset because Violet was seeing someone. She was young and beautiful and deserved to find someone to love. She had her whole life ahead of her. Knowing about her aunt’s death and the pain of loss she’d experienced as a child, Clay wanted only good things for Violet’s future.

  A cop wasn’t a good security risk for a husband. Violet could do better. A lot better.

  Clay had allowed his own emotions to get involved with his job. He should have focused on Violet’s security issues instead of on her. She’d be at work for a few more hours. No reason for him to hang around. He’d return later to follow her home and make sure she remained safe.

  Tonight, he’d reread the notebook the chief had given him i
n case he’d missed anything the first time through. Then he’d make a few more phone calls.

  Clay might not be able to give Violet his undivided attention over dinner tonight, but he could give her what he was good at doing…finding the man who had killed her aunt.

  THIRTEEN

  Violet watched the elevator doors close behind Clay, angry with herself for agreeing to see Ross. No-chemistry Ross. One date. Would it hurt so much?

  Of course it would. She wanted to be with Clay.

  She smelled the flowers. Red roses from a no-nonsense cop. Not what she’d expected. But then, Clay West was full of surprises.

  She found a vase, arranged the bouquet and placed it on her desk. Her eyes kept focusing on the flowers instead of her work. Finally, she checked her e-mail and found a message from Gwyn.

  Let’s try again. The sandwich shop in the Bryant Strip Mall at 5:30 p.m.

  Violet looked up as Jimmy neared her desk.

  “The cop got you flowers?”

  “Pretty, aren’t they?”

  Jimmy shrugged and shuffled his feet as if he were a kid needing to get something off his chest. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting recently.”

  She closed her e-mail and focused her attention on him.

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping, if that’s what you thought earlier,” he continued. “Quinn told me Stu was pleased with your work.”

  “Stu tells Quinn and Quinn tells you? Sounds like everyone’s playing Gossip.” She thought back to the game she’d played in her youth.

  This time Jimmy’s smile was sincere. “Pretty silly, huh?”

  “Tell me you had my best interest at heart, and I’ll forgive you.”

  “I did, really, Violet. I’ve been worried about you going off in your own direction. Stu likes the staff to follow his lead. You were starting to usurp his control.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said, wondering if his change of heart was sincere. Either way, she wanted to clear the air between them. Life was too short and the newspaper staff was too small a group to let petty disagreements get between them.