7
Lisa’s office in downtown Pewaukee occupied the back half of an old storefront building, owned by a real estate attorney whose offices took up the front half of the first floor. He rented the upper floor out for storage. Earl Albright was seldom around unless he had a meeting in his conference room.
The view of the marshy, south end of Pewaukee Lake, adorned by ancient oak trees, had sold Lisa on the space. Taking advantage of it, she added a large bay window across the back of her office.
Shortly after Lisa’s last client left, Shannon, Albright’s assistant, tapped on the door and hurried through, closing it behind her. A tall, rather heavy-set woman in her late twenties, she had gleaming, long, black hair. Her face wore a mischievous look complementing her engaging grin. “Sorry to barge in, but I saw your client leave a few minutes ago. I thought you’d finished for the night, but there’s a woman here to see you.”
“I’m not expecting anyone. Did she give you her name?”
“Nope.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m just surprised to have someone come in so late, unscheduled. If you want I’ll send her in and hang around until you’re finished talking to her. It’ll take me another thirty minutes to finish up anyway, and I thought maybe we could grab some Thai food.”
“All right, send her in.”
A moment later, the woman made an entrance into Lisa’s office. Wearing leather boots with stiletto heels, she stood nearly as tall as Shannon. Built like a runway model, the woman wore slim black jeans snug across her hipbones, topped by a leopard print camisole. A short, chestnut-brown leather jacket completed the outfit.
Lisa asked, “Can I help you?”
She stepped closer to the desk. Her gold filigree earrings dangled nearly to her shoulders and shone brightly in the soft light from the green-shaded, antique desk lamp. Her face, graced with high cheekbones, a perfectly shaped nose, and incredible blue eyes, visible in spite of the tinted lenses of her gold-rimmed eyeglasses, turned to face Lisa.
Her voice when she replied sounded vaguely musical. Maybe a touch of Jamaica? “If we talk, will it be confidential? I mean, you being a psychologist and all.”
Lisa speculated on the woman’s ethnicity; her complexion was a shade of soft caramel and her hair a closely cropped Afro, the short curls defined and lustrous.
Perplexed, Lisa responded, “It would be if you were a client.”
She reached into a hidden pocket in the small leather jacket, pulled out the tiniest wallet Lisa had ever seen and offered her a hundred dollar bill.
“How ‘bout I put you on a retainer? This be enough to cover it?”
“That’s not how it usually works. Do you plan on coming in for therapy?”
“Can’t say I don’t need it. May take you up on it sometime, but right now I need to have a talk with you and it has to be jus’ between us.”
Lisa accepted the bill. “I’ll take this as a ‘retainer’ with the understanding you’ll come to see me for therapy at some point in time. And, to make it official, I’ll give you a receipt, so I’ll need your name.”
The woman reached into her wallet, this time pulling out a business card, which she offered Lisa. Printed on it was Teal J. Peacock, Security Consultant, and a phone number. A tiny peacock decorated the lower corner of the card.
Apparently expecting a comment on her name, she quickly offered, “Mostly, I go by TJ.”
“TJ, is there someone in particular you don’t want me to discuss our conversation with?”
She grinned, nodding her head. “You figured that out! Guess that’s why you’re the shrink.”
Lisa fumbled under the desk for the pumps she’d kicked off, then gave up and came out from behind her desk in stocking feet. She led TJ to a matching set of green leather chairs, fronted with footstools. The chairs sat on either side of a round, beveled-glass topped coffee table in front of the bay window, the seating arrangement softly lit by a Tiffany-style floor lamp in shades of blue and green. TJ took a seat, slipping off her jacket to reveal a pair of well-toned arms, one of which boasted a hammered-gold snake bracelet wound around her bicep.
Lisa began, “Can you tell me who you want this conversation kept from?”
Her gaze met Lisa’s, her chin up, defiant. “Detective Richard Conlin.”
“Conlin? Are you with the police department?”
“Was once, but that’s a long story for another time.”
“Then what is your connection to him and why can‘t he know about your being here?”
“He and I kinda have a relationship.” She paused, and put her feet up on the footstool. “He told me about your visit to the department. That’s why I’m here. And he can’t know about it, ‘cause I been telling him for years somethin’s goin’ on. You got to see firsthand how helpful it was to tell him about it. Better if he doesn‘t know I‘m still lookin’ for answers.”
Lisa’s heart rate picked up. “Wouldn’t my conversation with him have been in confidence?”
“Nothing confidential ‘bout it, if there’s no case.”
“True enough. You’re aware then of the statistics I brought to the police, and you probably also know they ran their own a while back. So why do you want to discuss this with me? ”
TJ lifted her legs off the ottoman and leaned forward. “Have to go back in time a little to explain. Left the force ‘bout six years ago and tried working as a PI. Got a license and hung out my shingle, so to speak. Didn’t do real well, but things picked up when I finally got a few referrals from contacts in the department.
“Few years back, a doctor from Waukesha was arrested and convicted of killing his wife. Attorney who took up his appeal recommended me as an investigator. Thought my ties with the force would give me an edge in finding somethin’ new to use for his appeal. The Doc got off on the appeal because I found out the search that turned up his wife’s blood in his car was illegal. Great thing for him but pissed off the department and about put an end to my PI career.
“The Doc was real grateful and got me a part-time job doing security for a big bank near Brookfield Square.”
“How long were you part of the police force?”
“’Bout eight years. Like I said, why I quit is the long story part.”
Lisa said nothing, opting to let the other woman continue her story.
“Since then I’ve done real well doin’ the bank gig and free-lancing in security. Got to know the Doc well enough to know he was no killer or abuser. Loved his wife, but the woman drank. A lot. One night he came home from the hospital late. She was drunk and started accusing him of cheating. She lost it, started throwin’ things around, smashing good china and glass, that kinda thing. When he tried to stop her she started screaming and dialed 911. So he ended up with an incident on record.”
Lisa absorbed it all for a minute. “I’m still wondering why you’re coming to me with this?”
TJ chuckled. “Forgot to mention I also hang with Patty Barkley from time to time. She told me all about you.”
“Seems like quite a small world around that police department.”
“Also need to let you know the good detective pawned you off on the department’s biggest tight ass. I gave him hell about it.”
“You mean James Wilson. He was actually rather informative, but I agree he isn’t what you’d describe as warm and fuzzy.” Lisa smiled, remembering the man’s brusque demeanor. She neglected to add Conlin hadn’t treated her much better.
“Yeah, nothin’ warm about the guy. If he wasn’t engaged to the chief’s daughter, he’d a’ been out on his ass a long time ago.”
Lisa’s eyebrows shot up. “That explains a lot. I wondered how he managed to be such a maverick and get away with it.”
TJ stood, pacing. “Anyway, like I said, I been tellin’ Richard—he hates bein’ called Dick—that something’s going on. Didn’t need any fancy statistics to tell me. The Doc didn’t kill his wife. An’ that woman never woulda left him; she was way too crazy about all the goodies that came with bein’ married to a rich doctor. She loved him in her own weird way—an’ there wasn’t any boyfriend. I never told him this, but after all my diggin‘, I’d have to say she wasn’t the sharpest knife in the block. That woman never woulda figured out how to disappear without leaving tracks.”