Marriage Vow Murder Page 8

  It was so good to hear this story. My heart swelled as I thought of him making the arrest of this greedy kid. Why hadn't I asked Rex about his life before I'd met him? How selfish of me to never ask questions about his past cases.

  I was learning so much now. It didn't seem fair that he wasn't here to be amused by my interest. When I got him back, I was going to make it up to him. And I would have to grill him for more stories.

  "What about Harvey Oak?" Riley asked. "He was local. Is that a family name around here?"

  I hadn't thought of that.

  Mom looked at Dad. "I think there were one or two around here at one time."

  Dad shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I don't know."

  The food arrived, along with food for thought. We had five suspects. They were weak suspects, but I needed to have someone in my mind, even though it was possible that it was someone else. I'd love for it to be Juliette Dowd. A flash of fury coursed in my veins as I remembered catching her in Rex's house, but that didn't mean she wasn't keeping Rex in her basement. There was a break-in in my near future.

  No one discussed the case while we were eating. You have to enjoy an Iowa stuffed chop in reverent silence. Thick, juicy, and filled up with apple glazed stuffing, there's nothing like it in the world. The closest I ever came across was in Nicaragua, but that had been a badly burned bit of pig flesh on a stick coated in a paste made of dead ants. Not the same. At all.

  We were just looking over the dessert menu (yes, I was still hungry) when I got a call from Linda Willard.

  "Mom, Dad," I said as I stood and slipped on my coat. "I've got to go. But Riley's picking up the check, so don't fight him on that." I slid a look at Riley, whose face remained unruffled.

  I grabbed a roll, buttered it, and took it with me. What? In my line of work, you never know when you'll eat next.

  Linda met me at the door. I don't know how she knew when I'd be there.

  "You solved it?" I asked as I followed her into the kitchen.

  "Almost," she said. "I'm close, but there are a couple of answers missing. Since I believe this is about you, I thought you might be able to help."

  The puzzle was mostly filled in. All but three of the highlighted boxes now had letters in them. The margins of the puzzle were filled with words, some crossed out.

  She pointed to a string of letters on the bottom. "This is what I have so far."

  There were a lot of letters in random order across the bottom and a few numbers spelled out.

  "What are the ones you can't figure out?"

  Linda handed me the puzzle, and we sat down at the table. "I marked them for you. Would you like some hot cocoa?"

  I nodded eagerly since I didn't get dessert. Dessert is very important.

  Three prompts stared back at me. Might as well get this over with. The first one said, Tolstoy. That was easy. There were seven blanks. Ice pick. Leonid Tolstoy was killed in Mexico by an ice pick. That might not be the right answer, but if it was aimed at me, this was what a spy would think of.

  The second prompt was Moscow. Hmmm…trickier. Could they be referring to the Moscow Rules? There were ten of those. Written during the Cold War for spies in the Soviet Union, they were ten things to remember when working in Moscow. Based on common sense, if you followed these rules, you might avoid capture. I had them memorized, like the spies of old did, because they were cool and good common sense:

  1) Assume nothing.

  2) Never go against your gut.

  3) Everyone is potentially under opposition control.

  4) Do not look back; you are never completely alone.

  5) Go with the flow, blend in.

  6) Vary your pattern and stay within your cover.

  7) Lull them into a sense of complacency.

  8) Do not harass the opposition.

  9) Pick the time and place for action.

  10) Keep your options open.

  I counted the number of squares and found thirteen. There was only one that was that short, Assume nothing. I carefully plugged in those letters. That gave us two more highlighted squares. These were certainly spy related, which made me think Lana and Leiko, who knew me as a former spy, were behind this.

  There was only one more prompt: Marco. I froze. Forcing myself to count the open squares made my lungs constrict.

  "That one really stumped me," Linda said as she joined me. "With five letters, you'd think it would be Polo, right? But that's only four letters."

  One clue intersected, but I knew what that letter was before I looked at it.

  No. It can't be.

  "Are you okay, Merry?" Linda looked alarmed.

  The answer to that question was no. I knew the solution, but I was afraid to put it down.

  "It's manic," I whispered.

  Seeing that I'd been rendered useless, Linda gently took the puzzle from me and filled it in.

  My old teacher sat down and with a new piece of paper, wrote out all the highlighted letters, and went to work.

  I could barely breathe. Marco Manic. It was a code name for a very classified mission. The only one I ever failed. It was even before Riley's time, so he wouldn't know it.

  Marco Manic was the one case where I'd lost my contact.

  This was definitely about me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  My second mission with the CIA took place in Istanbul. My handler was a man we'll call Frank. He was retiring after this mission and had already phoned it in. I got no guidance from him. He spent all of his time drinking in whatever dive bar was closest.

  But I was young and an idiot and thought I could do this myself. After all, it was a simple case. I had to turn an assistant to the assistant of the deputy prime minister. No problem.

  The guy's name was Marco. Well, that was the name we assigned him. He was young, fresh out of college, and eager. Turning him wasn't that hard. He felt that Turkey was heading down the wrong path, and I'd convinced him that if he stole one or two files, we could change things for the better.

  The lies we tell…

  Because I was young and stupid, I gave reckless advice. Marco was discovered floating in the river, a bullet hole in his head. I found Frank in a cheap bar, sobered him up, and got him out of the country.

  He was immediately retired and got his full pension. The last I'd heard, he still hung out in bars, just better ones

  I got sent back to the Farm for more training. Marco got a shameful burial in a pauper's grave. I never forgot it.

  "How long has she been like this?" I heard Kelly whisper.

  "Two hours," Linda replied. "Do you know what's wrong?"

  I felt a hard thump on my back between my shoulder blades. It shook me out of my dreamlike trance.

  "Did you just Heimlich me?" I asked my best friend.

  Kelly nodded. "She's back. And for your information, the Heimlich maneuver is totally different."

  "Oh good." Linda smiled. "Because I've solved the puzzle."

  "What is it?" I was a little shaken from my trip down bad memory lane.

  "It's an address." Kelly frowned.

  "Let's go," I said as I raced out the door. I ran back in because I'd forgotten my keys, coat, and purse. I collected the two women and the clue and got into the van.

  "1221 Titmouse Street," Kelly read from the backseat as I drove like a maniac.

  Someone was likely dead at this address. But maybe, just maybe, they'd be alive. It wouldn't be Rex. Linda had convinced me that we had two more clues coming. But someone was there. Someone new.

  My mind raced as I considered the possibilities. But my mind was so jumbled I could barely focus on driving.

  "There it is!" Kelly pointed over my shoulder.

  It was four thirty, so it would be dark very soon. I took the flashlights out of the car and handed them to the other women. Then I turned on my cell's flashlight.

  The address was that of a small craftsman cottage. It was small and sweet and had a lot more character than my little ranch house. And now, like my
house had had many times in the past, there was probably a dead body somewhere on the grounds.

  "Should we go in?" Kelly asked.

  "Ladies?" Linda said from my right. "I can see something through the window. There's someone sleeping on the couch."

  That was all she needed to say. I raced up to the door and beat on it with my fists. Then I looked at Linda.

  She shook her head. "No movement at all."

  I slipped on my gloves and turned the knob. To my surprise, it was unlocked. The three of us stepped into an elegant art deco hallway with hand-crafted hardwood floors. Ignoring the plastic boot tray – placed there so visitors or thoughtful killers wouldn't track snow inside - we made our way to the room where Linda had seen the body.

  Sitting up and sightless, on a beautiful, brown velvet couch, was a young man I'd never seen before. Ligature marks ringed his neck, but there was no murder weapon present. I stepped forward to study him, and Kelly called 9-1-1.

  The man was young, maybe twenty-five. He had short brown hair and brown eyes. I closed them. Yes, I know you aren't supposed to do that, but I couldn't have him staring at me like that, could I?

  The victim was dressed in a dark gray three-piece suit and a royal blue tie. It looked tailored. His shoes were more than one year's salary for me. I was pretty sure they were custom made.

  "Who is he?" Kelly asked.

  I shook my head. "No idea. You don't recognize him?"

  Both women shook their heads.

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  That woke me up. "We have to look around the room, take in everything. There's not much time."

  The three of us wandered around, noting anything we could. The room was a study, and it was immaculate. Was this the victim's home? He must've been new to town. That was why the new clue.

  But who was he, and why was he killed?

  The door burst open, and Officer Weir, accompanied by Dr. Body, walked into the room. Ted took several pictures with his cell phone and then nodded to Soo Jin, who carefully examined the deceased.

  "Do you know him?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "None of us do. But he was our clue."

  The man looked confused, so Linda took him aside and patiently explained, like a good teacher did, what happened to bring us here. I was waiting for a lecture on how I should've called the police first, but to be fair, none of us really knew what we'd find.

  "Ms. Wrath?" Officer Weir spoke up. "I understand that this is personal, but please include me when you get the next clue. I can help." His voice was pleading, and I kind of felt bad.

  Soo Jin held out a wallet. Ted put on gloves and opened it.

  "Marco Jones. Says he's from Virginia."

  Marco? Alarm bells sounded in my head. Maybe this was just a coincidence.

  "What's going on?" Riley was standing in the hallway, looking in at us. He must've seen my car and stopped.

  "The clue told us to come here," I said.

  Riley looked at the man on the couch, and he slumped against the wall, his face in his hands. I walked over to him.

  "You know this man."

  He nodded. "I know this man."

  "And his name is Marco?" I asked.

  Riley shook his head. "That's one of his covers. His name is Bobby Ray Pratt. He was your replacement at Langley."

  "He's CIA?" I asked weakly.

  "He is." Riley glanced at the corpse. "Was."

  "How did you know to find us here?" Kelly asked. "Did you follow us?"

  Riley responded, "No. I found you because"—he took a deep breath—"this is my house."

  CHAPTER TEN

  "So this really is about me," I mumbled for the third time.

  Kelly introduced Linda Willard around to everyone and then explained to her that I'd been a spy. The woman listened carefully then nodded. Kelly had forgotten that she'd followed my situation in the papers and knew I was ex-CIA. But because she was a classy lady, Linda never corrected her.

  "That's why this fits," she said. "Something new. Mr. Pratt was your replacement, so he's new. As in, Something New."

  "I'm going to remove the body," Soo Jin told Ted. "Is there anything else you need?"

  The officer shook his head. He looked confused and frustrated. I felt a little sorry for him. He wasn't a detective and was in way over his head.

  "Sheriff Carnack had given me permission to investigate, but I think I'm stepping on your toes here."

  Ted shook his head. "You aren't. I'm pretty new here. You have far more knowledge and experience."

  "Thanks." I felt a little better.

  "But." Isn't there always a but? "We are all running around here like chickens with our heads cut off. We need to communicate and work together."

  I appreciated the Iowa metaphor. "What's your role at the station?"

  He looked sheepish. "I'm kind of taking the lead, what with Detective Ferguson gone, with approval from the sheriff. I hope that's okay."

  I thought about the small police station. There were just three uniforms: this guy, Kevin, and Rex. Most of them just wanted to do their jobs and go home. We often got forensics backup from Des Moines or the Iowa State Police.

  "It's totally okay," I reassured him. "Besides, you've got access to all kinds of resources that I can't use otherwise."

  The young man brightened. "I'll help any way I can. I like it here, but someday I'd like to be in the FBI." He ran off to give orders to Kevin.

  Riley joined me, and we watched as orderlies from the hospital bagged the body and lifted it onto a cart. Something fluttered as they lifted him. I snagged a pair of gloves out of one of the orderly's pockets (he didn't notice) and picked it up.

  "Another crossword puzzle?" Riley said over my shoulder.

  Linda and Kelly raced over. He was right. That was exactly what it was. Just like the other one, some of the blank boxes were highlighted.

  "Where's the poem?" Linda frowned. "There should be a poem about Something Borrowed."

  We poked around to see if we could find anything else. Panic flared in my chest as I got down on my knees to peer under the couch. What if we didn't have the whole clue? A part of the wedding poem came with each puzzle—except for this time. Did that mean we wouldn't be able to solve it and move forward?

  "Maybe it's in the crossword this time?" Kelly suggested. "Before we freak out, we should see if that's the case."

  "Do you have a copier?" I asked.

  Riley nodded, and I followed him to a sumptuous home office.

  "Wow." I stared at the bookshelves loaded with books. "You're a reader?"

  He ignored me as he lifted the lid, and I dropped the sheet onto the machine. Seconds later, we had a copy, and I found Ted Weir and turned the original over to him.

  "Thanks," he said as he put it in a plastic bag. "I haven't heard back from the lab on the first one yet. Probably because of the holiday. I'll send this over right away. Sheriff Carnack and I are meeting tomorrow morning for a briefing. He seems to have faith in me."

  If the sheriff trusted him, it was time I did. I stopped him. "Sorry I made a copy of the first one and didn't tell you."

  His frustration melted into a weak smile. "Hey, you figured it out, which saved us time. I'm sure you made a copy of this one too, right?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "Just promise me you'll let me know before you run off to the next clue."

  I agreed.

  A forensics team showed up a few moments later and began to dust the furniture where the body had been. Riley invited us into a dining room with upholstered chairs and a large teak table.

  "How can you afford all this?" I asked.

  CIA and FBI agents didn't make a lot of money. And unless he had a rich relative who died recently and left him a huge inheritance, his expensive digs looked suspicious.

  "I had an uncle who died recently and left me a huge inheritance." He shrugged.

  We all sat down, and Riley disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen. He returned with bottles of sp
arkling water and a platter filled with fruit and cheese. Kevin stuck his head in—probably sensing food. But Ted shouted, and he vanished.

  Linda pulled a pencil from her purse and started working on the puzzle.

  "I like your house," Kelly said.

  Riley thanked her and sat down at the head of the table. "I fell in love with it the minute I saw it."

  "There's an anagram in the clues. Tiny tick marks beside certain letters. I think there are two clues here," Linda announced, and we crowded around her.

  Kelly sighed. "That's a lot of letters. This will take a while."

  Linda smiled. "Not necessarily. We already know three words that have been in both of the other clues…Let's, something, and borrowed." She cast a sympathetic eye in my direction. "I'm sure it's part of this puzzle. The kidnapper is just changing things up. So we plug in those words and…"

  "You just have to eliminate those letters…" I finished.

  "…and use the ones you have left!" Riley finished. "Linda, you should've been a spy."

  She smiled at him. "What I did was much more difficult, but thank you anyway."

  I suppressed a chuckle. She was right. She had Kevin Dooley as a student, and I'm sure there were many more over the years. Linda would've made a great spy with that kind of experience.

  She got to work, so Riley gave Kelly and me a tour. For a small cottage, this was larger than it looked. And so well decorated, it looked like something out of a magazine. How did he do it? My house, the very first place I owned, had a couch, TV, bed, and Dora the Explorer sheets for drapes. For over a year.

  "It really is lovely, Riley," Kelly said.

  "Thanks." He had the good grace to blush. "I did it myself."

  We were interrupted by one of the forensics guys, who said they were leaving and that we could clean up. It wasn't too bad. Just dust everywhere. Kelly ran for supplies as I asked a few questions.

  "Did you find any fingerprints?"

  The man nodded. "Three. I'll send the report to Officer Weir. Good night."

  I turned to Riley. "Where was Bobby Ray from?"

  "West Virginia, I think. A tiny town. His parents were farmers."

  "Wealthy farmers?"