“When will you be back?”
“Late this evening or early morning, depending on the weather.”
Cain watched a blue Jeep ramble up the drive. “Are you expecting company?”
Preston looked over Cain’s shoulder. “Come.” Preston led Cain down the hallway to the living room. He motioned for him to wait around the corner in the dining room. A few minutes later, Juanita knocked on the door and announced his visitor.
“Hope this isn’t a bad time, Mr. Hilliard,” Sam said with a somewhat monotone voice that said, I don’t really give a damn if it is. Preston extended his hand which she clasped firmly.
“I’m leaving in a few moments. What can I do for you, Sergeant Casey?”
Sam took a seat on the Queen Anne sofa. Preston chose a regal high-backed chair. “I’m sure you’ve read about the body discovered in the overpass.”
“Yes. A syndicate hit, wasn’t it?” Preston smiled slightly, then added, “or was it a drug buy gone bad?” Hearing a helicopter droning nearby, he checked his watch.
Sam watched him closely, her eyes dissecting his every move, her mind digesting and storing the information for future use. She pulled out a picture of Hap Wilson from her purse and said, “I understand that you served in the Korean War. Mushima Valley seemed to be where you made a name for yourself.”
Preston picked up the picture of Hap and studied it. “He wasn’t one of the wounded I carried out.”
“No?” Sam asked with an innocent, wide-eyed expression.
“There weren’t any blacks on that killing field. I would have remembered that.”
“You don’t recall during your tour of duty in Korea of ever seeing this man?”
Preston gave a half-hearted laugh and tossed the picture on the coffee table in front of her. “My dear girl, that war ended over forty years ago. Where has this man been all that time? He has been reported missing from duty while the rest of us risked life and limb. And you expect anyone to have any interest whatsoever in where he has hidden himself all these years?”
Preston pulled a piece of lint from his pants and held it up as if scrutinizing this foreign object that dared to soil his clothing. Standing up, he straightened his floral silk tie and buttoned his suit coat over his trim torso. “I saw a lot of men die in that war, Sergeant. I myself was wounded. I won’t spend one more second discussing a cowardly deserter.”
He was ending the meeting. Sam watched him walk to the door. She picked up the picture and followed him.
“Did you know George Abbott?”
Preston turned, his hand on the front door knob.
“Abbott?” He furrowed his brow in thought. “Yes, he was with me in Korea, for a brief time. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t keep in touch with anyone after Korea.” He held the front door open.
“The Dallas police are looking into Abbott’s death as a possible homicide.”
“Oh, really? The papers say the police closed that case.”
“That’s what the police want the press to print.” She handed him a picture of Cain. “What about this man? His name is Cain Valenzio and it’s possible he might be tied to Abbott’s death. Maybe he has some vendetta against Korean War vets.”
Preston grew silent. Overhead, the helicopter was sweeping around for its landing in the backyard. The updraft sent tree branches swaying.
Sam could tell by the way his temples pulsed that she had hit a nerve. “Well, I see your ride is here.” She motioned for him to keep the picture of Cain. “Have a safe trip, Mr. Hilliard.”
Sam smiled as she walked to her Jeep. She had ruffled his feathers, and ruffling a few feathers was always her favorite way to start out a morning.
As the pilot carried Preston’s suit bag and briefcase onto the helicopter, Preston made a quick call.
“You need to rein in Sergeant Casey or we are going to have problems.”
Chapter 42
Murphy stopped by Sam’s doorway. He didn’t wait for her to look up. He just bellowed, “Casey, I want you in my office, NOW.”
Sam didn’t think it would take long for Preston to call Murphy. He probably called him from the helicopter. She saw the look on Jake’s face as she headed down the aisle. It was a look of, What have you done, this time?
Murphy didn’t bother to close his door. He liked an audience when he was chewing out one of his subordinates. He planted his knuckles on his desk. “What the hell were you doing at our esteemed state representative’s house this morning?”
“Just tying up loose ends.”
“Loose ends on a case that’s closed?”
“It’s routine.”
“Routine?” His voice raised a few decibels. “I’ll say what’s routine and what isn’t. You usurped my authority when I specifically
…”
“You closed the case too soon,” Sam countered. “I didn’t know you were the kind of cop to bury a case under a ton of red tape.”
“You have a problem, Sergeant?”
“My problem is with you. How dare you interfere with an ongoing investigation? Chief Connelley would never go behind his detectives’ backs. He obviously is a man of character and principle.” Sam kept in control but made no effort to keep her voice down. If Murphy wanted an audience, she would give them something to hear.
Murphy’s face reddened. “Who the hell do you think you are talking to, young lady?”
“At this moment, I’m not really sure.” Her feathered earring whipped across her face. At one point it got caught in her hair. She was aware of the spectators in the outer office. Some lived and breathed for confrontations like this and Camille Carter’s visits. It fueled the break room gossip mongers. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jake heading her way, but Frank stopped him.
Perspiration started to form on Murphy’s forehead. The meeting would be short-lived because Sam knew the last thing Murphy wanted was to sweat in his one-hundred-and-twenty-five-dollar silk shirt.
“Sergeant, I think you need some time off to think about this. You are suspended. Take three days to rethink exactly what kind of future you want in this department. No, make it a week.” He raised his arm in a theatrical gesture. “Now get the hell outta here.”
Sam glared at him. Her hand instinctively found her medicine bundle. Oblivious to the stares and whispers, she returned to her office. All she did was chant in her native Lakota while she clasped her medicine bundle firmly in her right hand.
“Sam, you have to think first before you open your mouth,” Jake said.
She ignored him, walked over to the window in her office and cranked it open, all the while chanting. She packed up her tote bag with her notes. Janet poked her head in to tell her Chief Connelley wanted her to call him. It was important.
“Sam,” Jake called out after her as she headed for the elevator. He stopped at Janet’s desk and stood next to Frank. As Sam waited by the elevator, the two mourning doves streaked through her doorway and into the office. Maury and Andy made a dive for the floor. One officer pulled out his gun and aimed it at the moving targets.
“Hey, shoo them birds out of here,” Sergeant Scofield yelled, rushing out from behind his desk. “And put that gun away.”
The two mourning doves flew into Murphy’s office where they each made a deposit on Murphy’s desk right in the middle of the report he was writing to put into Sam’s file.
Murphy jerked back screaming, “Sonafabitch!”
One dove snatched a yellow rose from the vase of flowers on Murphy’s credenza. It flew over to the elevator where it deposited the rose in Sam’s outstretched hand, and then flew back to its mate on the windowsill.
The laughter that erupted when the birds visited Murphy’s office ended abruptly when the rose was dropped into Sam’s palm. She scanned the silent office slowly, her turquoise eyes seeming to take on a glow. Inhaling the sweet fragrance of the rose, Sam smiled and stepped into the waiting elevator.