Death on Sunset Hill Read online

“Well, shit. I don’t think the cops have a clue on this one,” Parker said, closing out his story. “There. Just sent it to the editor. You want to grab a drink?”

  Tommy pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  “What does Pretty Boy have to say?”

  Tommy made a face.

  “Oh, come on,” Parker said, slapping the desk. “You did call him, right?”

  “Nope.”

  Parker put his head in his hands. “What’s the point of dating a cop if you don’t get the scoop every once in a while?”

  Tommy stood and stretched. “That’s why you and I never worked out, Parker. You’re always looking for the angle.”

  But driving home, Tommy wondered if Kelly would tip her off on this murder. He was working the night shift today so she wouldn’t see him until sometime the next day. He might give her a clue. This murder was a big one. It wasn’t often that a suburban woman in her 40s taking a walk at lunch was dragged into the bushes and murdered in a busy part of town. Jackie Chandler seemed like a saint.

  Even her enemies loved her. There was no motive. Nobody who wanted her dead.

  Still, sometimes people lead secret lives that nobody, not even their spouse, know about.

  THE FIRST THING THE next morning, Parker called Tommy at her desk in the photo department.

  “People don’t just get murdered by strangers. That’s only in the movies,” he said. “I’m going to find out what happened. Someone who knew she walked that path every day. We just have to find out who that someone is. Want to tag along?”

  “I’m in,” Tommy said, grabbing her camera and bag. “I was thinking about it all night long. Maybe someone was jealous of her. Maybe she took someone’s job or she got promoted and someone didn’t. Maybe new hubby has a pissed off ex-girlfriend?”

  “That’s right, Snap, I’ll turn you into an investigative reporter yet.”

  “No, thanks. I’ll stick behind the lens.”

  They took Parker’s car, a sporty little Alpha Romeo. Tommy suspected that Parker thought the Alpha somehow stood for Alpha Male, but Tommy secretly thought the tiny car was a bit effeminate, a little bit trying too hard. Maybe trying to compensate for something ... although Tommy knew first hand that Parker didn’t need to compensate for squat. Maybe she should tell him the impression the car gave off. It wasn’t really his style. The car was more something a stylish gay guy, like her friend, Chris, would look good in.

  But when she looked over and saw the joy on Parker’s face as he downshifted and then accelerated expertly around a curve, she just rolled her eyes.

  Their first stop was the office building where Jackie Chandler worked. The small building housed a banner and sign printing operation, a karate studio, and the health insurance company where Jackie worked as a claims representative.

  “Maybe she denied someone a claim and that pissed them off,” Tommy said as she unfolded herself from the car.

  “That’s it, Snap. That’s exactly something that would drive someone to murder. I’ve felt that way before dealing with insurance companies.”

  Following him to the door, Tommy shook her head. He was such a patronizing ass. Drove her crazy. What had she ever seen in him?

  As if reading her thoughts, he turned around and gave her his most sexy smile.

  Okay. Fine. It was that grin.

  Luckily, she knew someone with a much sexier smile nowadays. That was the reason she was in bed so early the night of the murder. She’d had company. And Kelly was meeting her again at her place tonight. She could hardly wait. Meanwhile, time to see what they could find out about Jackie Chandler and who might want her dead.

  Thomas Hoover was Jackie’s manager. He was one of those middle-aged, balding men who had already made that crucial decision some men face: belt under the belly or over the belly. He chose over. His pale blue dress shirt was taut across his stomach and showed a bit of wetness under the arms. Tommy wondered if it was the heat of the day or if he was nervous. He took them into his office and shut the door.

  “It’s the damnedest thing,” he said pushing his glasses back up on his nose. “I honestly don’t know a soul who doesn’t like Jackie. She’s just one of those people you just can’t help but like. You know the one any boss is happy to have in his office because she organizes the birthday parties, keeps people laughing, and makes sure nobody gets too serious.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might be angry at her? Anyone at all?” Parker asked.

  Hoover bit his lip and shook his head. “No, siree.”

  The three sat silent for a moment so Tommy decided to speak up. Usually, photographers hid in the background but Parker was sitting there like a bump on a log, so she might as well talk. “How about someone who is mad because she denied a claim? Did anyone want to talk to her manager, you, in the past year to complain?”

  Parker slanted his eyes at her, but didn’t say anything.

  Hoover’s face scrunched up as he thought. “You know that does happen a lot, but I only remember it happening with Jackie, once, about six months ago. Some guy was off his rocker because his wife was dying of cancer and we wouldn’t approve payment on some experimental treatment. You know, I feel bad in situations like that, but this is America. We aren’t some communist country where everything you want is paid for.”

  Tommy chose to ignore his ignorance. “Do you remember the guy’s name?”

  “No, can’t say that I do.”

  Tommy looked around his office. Mr. Hoover played the game. His wall was covered with certificates of recognition. A small photo at the corner of his desk showed the obligatory smiling wife and two kids. He toed the line. He wasn’t going to tell them anything off the record that wasn’t approved by the higher ups.

  Parker, realizing he was losing control of the interview, interjected by handing Hoover his card.

  “Could you do me a favor, Mr. Hoover, and if the name does come back to you, will you please give me a call?”

  “I’ll have to check if I’m allowed to give out that information, but if the big boss says it is okay — and if I remember the name — I’d be happy to call you.”

  Hoover stood to let them out, but Tommy wasn’t done yet.

  “Is there anybody here we can talk to about Jackie. Just sort of a human-interest angle, the things you told us, like how people really liked her and so on.”

  “Well, yeah. Her and Sheryl seemed close. At least, I think so, because Sheryl’s having a real rough time of it. I tried to get her to go home but she said she’d rather be here with us,” Hoover said looking across a sea of cubicles. “I think she’s on her smoke break—I told her to take as many of those as she needs today—but I can point her out to you.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was easy to pick Sheryl out from the other smokers milling around the side door of the building. Her puffy swollen eyes were red and her cheeks, chin, and nose were too. It was hard to tell if it was from grief or if her skin was always this flushed. She wiped tears away as Parker and Tommy asked if she would talk to them about Jackie Chandler.

  “Well, I guess so, as long as Mr. Hoover said it was okay,” she said and sniffled.

  According to Sheryl, Jackie headed up the office’s fantasy football league each year, organized mobile blood drives, and had a wicked sense of humor. As she spoke, Parker looked off into the distance as if he forgot why they were there. He was so irritating. When Sheryl finished speaking, Tommy moved in for the kill.

  “Sheryl, can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Jackie? Did she mention any enemies?”

  “God no,” Sheryl said, gasping. “Everyone liked Jackie.”

  “What about some guy who was angry that she denied the claim for his wife’s experimental cancer treatment. I think this was about six months ago. Did she mention this to you?”

  “Oh, hell, that happens all the time,” Sheryl said. “Most of us just laugh it off. Jackie did let it get to her sometimes, though. She would have approved e
very claim that came her way if it were up to her.”

  “Did she ever say anything about receiving threats or anything like that?"

  “Nope. And she would have told me. We were pretty close. We walked every day at lunch.” Sheryl burst into tears. “See that’s the thing. I’d quit smoking and was walking with her, but it was raining and I wimped out and now it’s all my fault she’s dead. If I went with her, she’d still be alive. I just know it.”

  Tommy reached over and put her hand on Sheryl’s hand.

  “I know this is difficult, but it’s not your fault. I’ve covered a lot of stories like this and what you just said is not true at all. The fact is, if you were with her you might have been killed, too. So please don’t think that way for another second.”

  Sheryl sniffed and nodded, seemingly relieved. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Parker handed Sheryl his card. “Please call me if you can think of anything else you think we should know.”

  Sheryl peered up at him from under her bangs. “That’s what the cops said.”

  “Well, call them first, then call us,” he said.

  Tommy quietly took out her own card and handed it to Sheryl, as well. Parker raised his eyebrow at that.

  Back in the car, Parker looked over at Tommy. “That was a bunch of crap, you know. If she had been with her on that walk, I’m sure Jackie Chandler would be alive right now.”

  “Screw you, Parker.”

  Tommy stared out the window until they pulled up in front of Jackie’s house.

  This was the visit she dreaded most. It’d only been one day since Jackie had been killed. Her husband, Don, would still be shell-shocked. Parker had tried calling him, but the person who answered had slammed down the phone without responding. Twice.

  But the attempt had to be made.

  Tommy tucked her camera into its big black back and swung the bag behind her back as they made their way up the sidewalk to the Chandler home.

  The Chandler’s lived in a heavily treed part of South Minneapolis with modest, but charming craftsmen homes.

  The front porch was enclosed and tidy with a row of colorful pots overflowing with pansies lined up the steps. A green glass sphere rested on a small white pedestal.

  Tommy waited behind Parker as he knocked on the door. Nothing.

  They waited a few more seconds and he knocked again.

  Finally, a young woman emerged from the inner door and came up to the screen door leading to the enclosed porch. Her eyes rimmed red and hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She wore a Syracuse sweatshirt.

  Parker introduced himself. “We’re doing a story about Mrs. Chandler and wanted to see if her husband could talk to us and tell us a little bit about her and why she will be missed.”

  Smooth. But that was his middle name.

  The young woman just looked at them in a daze.

  “And you are?” Parker asked.

  “I’m Lynn. She’s my stepmother.” A fresh wave of tears erupted. “I mean she ‘was.’”

  Tommy stepped up. “Lynn, we are so sorry to bother you right now. If you want we can come back at a better time, but our story on Jackie is going to run tomorrow and we would like to let the world know about her. If you could, we’d love to talk to you. And maybe see if you had any favorite pictures we could share with people.”

  Lynn bit her lip as if she was thinking about it. “Hold on.”

  She disappeared back in the house, leaving the door open. Tommy and Parker could hear the murmuring of voices in the background. Suddenly, Don Chandler emerged. He looked weary but gave a tentative smile as he held open the door.

  “Come on in.”

  Tommy was relieved. The paper had run the picture of him on the front page above Parker’s story. It was a great shot, but so intimate that Tommy was worried he’d be embarrassed about it.

  Chandler led them into a living room that clearly had a woman’s touch — big comfy couches with flowers and a collection of angel figurines had prominent place on a doily across a large coffee table.

  “Can I get you some coffee?”

  Tommy and Parker shook their heads.

  “I just can’t believe she’s gone,” Don Chandler said, his voice filled with despair. “We just found each other. I spent my whole life waiting to be with my soul mate and then as soon as I was, she was taken away from me. It’s not fair.”

  “You’re right. It’s not fair,” Tommy said.

  Don Chandler spent the next half hour talking about his wife — her love of animals and angels, her deep spirituality, and her belief that everyone had some good inside them.

  “She never bought into people being all bad,” Don Chandler said. “We’d see people on the news who did terrible things to other people and Jackie would say they must have had a rough life to turn out that way. She was the most compassionate, understanding person I’ve ever met. She’s my angel.”

  He broke down in sobs again. Tommy and Parker waited patiently.

  After a few minutes, Chandler brought out a stack of photos in a shoebox and handed it to Tommy. She flipped through, admiring them, trying to decide which one would be best with Parker’s story.

  Don Chandler stopped her when she got to one that showed him hugging Jackie. She wore a red dress with a plunging neckline and he wore a tuxedo. Behind them was a giant blue banner that read, “Class of 1987.”

  “This was at her 30th class reunion in June. Did you know she was voted “Best Preserved? That’s how pretty she is.”

  Was. It always broke Tommy’s heart when people referred to their dead loved one in the present tense.

  “She’s gorgeous!” Tommy said, meaning it.

  “Ha,” Don Chandler chuckled. “Yeah. Lots of guys were jealous of me that night. Especially her high school boyfriend. Got so drunk declaring his love for her, he had to be hauled away early by his friends. I think Jackie was a little embarrassed at all the attention she got at the reunion. She was sort of overweight in high school, and frankly, most of her life. Took a health scare for her to get serious about being in shape and all that. But I loved her any which way she was. She gained a few pounds, I’d just tell her, ‘It’s okay, honey, that just means there’s more of you to love.’ She didn’t think it was quite as funny as I did.”

  Don Chandler looked down. Parker and Tommy exchanged a look.

  “Do you have any idea why someone would have targeted her?” Parker asked.

  Don Chandler just shook his head in despair.

  “All I want to do is find the son-of-a-bitch and strangle him with my bare hands.”

  Tommy looked at Parker and raised her eyebrows.

  But then Don Chandler sighed. “But that’s not what Jackie would have wanted. She would want me to forgive him. But God help me, I don’t know if I can. Even for her.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Back in the newsroom, Tommy swung by Parker’s desk to drop off the photos that would run with his story. She’d taken snapshots of a few of the photos Don Chandler had shared, including one at the couple’s wedding. The stepdaughter was the maid-of-honor and was smiling and happy. Clearly, Jackie Chandler, had been loved. Another shot showed Jackie on a sailboat, hair wind-tossed and a huge smile on her face.

  “Think this one will work,” Parker said looking at the photos. “Thanks, Snap.”

  Tommy started to walk away.

  “Hey,” Parker said. “Feeling thirsty yet? Bar’s still open.”

  Tommy smiled and kept walking.

  If she wanted to be rude, she could tell him she had her own, long, tall drink of water waiting at home. But she was feeling nice.

  That happy glow changed when Martin Sandoval, the head of the photo department, called her into the conference room. The look in his eyes made her uneasy.

  “St. James, just got some bad news. Looks like the higher ups are ordering another round of layoffs.”

  “That’s impossible,” Tommy said. “We’re operating at a skeleton staff right now as it i
s.”

  Sandoval ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I know it. It’s an impossible situation, but the word from the publisher is that its cutbacks or shut down the paper altogether. Corporate says we’re a sinking ship and unless we can turn things around, they’re going to let us go under.”

  Tommy’s face felt hot. “That’s absurd. The Twin Cities has never been a one newspaper town!”

  “The St. Paul paper is champing at the bit. I hear they’re already eyeing real estate downtown so they can open up their Minneapolis bureau.”

  They sat in silence for a few seconds, Sandoval staring out the window, Tommy eyeing the scratched wooden conference table. Finally, Tommy met his eyes.

  “Is my head on the chopping block?”

  Sandoval gave her a sorrowful look. “Maybe. Honestly? I don’t know yet. We’re already down to five photographers. They’ve asked me to let two go. The only reason I’m being this upfront with you is because we go way back and I think you deserve it. I’m not telling the other photogs all this, understand?”

  Tommy stood. “Thanks Martin, I appreciate your candor. I need to know what to expect and what to prepare for.”

  Just saying the words made her stomach roil in fear.

  Sandoval continued. “We can’t let Jack go, he’s too connected in the sports community. He’s a for sure.”

  “Of course, Danny’s a ‘for sure,’ too,” Tommy said, making a face.

  Sandoval shook his head, but didn’t disagree. Of course, Danny would stay. He was a terrible photographer, but he was the managing editor’s nephew.

  “As far as Suzie goes,” Sandoval began. “Here’s the thing. She’s young and inexperienced, but she’s good. You’re better. But she’s cheaper. And frankly, St. James, the higher ups see her as hungrier. She’s here from eight in the morning to ten at night. Every day. They notice things like that.”

  Tommy protested. “But I’m working just as hard, I’m just out in the field. I could sit here in the office every day for twelve hours, but that’s not going to get them the pictures they want!”