When The Dead Return

When The Dead Return

And Other Short Stories

By 

David M. Hooper 

Copyright © 2024 David M. Hooper

 1

    The old man sat in the dilapidated lawn chair staring at the small lake in the middle of the city, his fishing pole lying on the ground. A Kansas City Royals baseball cap was firmly placed on his head with oily gray hair sticking out the sides. Rough hands with black grit under his nails impatiently tapped on the arms of the chair. Streetlights reflected off the still water and the only sound was the squawking radios from the patrol cars parked along the street. The flashing red lights swept across his haggard face. A young policeman stood next to the old man in a neatly pressed uniform with a clipboard and pen. It had been a quiet night until he got the call from the dispatcher at four o’clock. The night had been uneventful and he had hoped he’d get off on time to see his new son before his wife took him to the sitter. 

    “Do you often come down here at…” The policeman glanced at his watch. “...four-thirty in the morning to fish?”

    The old man responded in a gruff voice exposing yellow-stained teeth from nicotine.

    “You fish?”

    The policeman dropped the clipboard by his side and took a deep breath to stay calm. It hadn't rained and the stagnant water smelled like rotten eggs and the old man smelled of urine.

    “Not in a city park at four o’clock in the morning. It's not safe.” 

    The old man turned away from the policeman folding his arms on his chest. 

    “I'm safe. I ain't got nothing they want.” 

    The policeman sighed.

    “So, let's go through what happened this morning.”

    The folding chair made a loud, squeaking noise as the old man shifted his weight to see the policeman through squinted eyes. He rubbed a weathered hand on his scraggly beard.

     “I told you! I come down here almost every morning unless the weather is bad.”

     The young policeman stopped writing. 

    “Even in winter?” 

    “Depends,” the old man replied, failing to hide his irritation at the question.

     “Go on.”

     “Anyhow, I like this spot because the bank is level and it makes sitting in my chair easier, and I always catch a mess of perch here. This morning I found a lure on the bank so I thought I'd see if I could catch myself a bass. I cast out my line and immediately I'm snagged. I don't get many snags sitting here so I was surprised. I think it's a small limb or something because I can reel it in.” 

    “And then what happened?” 

    The old man swung around in his chair so fast that it made such a loud noise that the policeman thought the chair would break.

     “I pulled hard until it reached the bank and this dead hand sticks out of the water!” he barked.

 ### 

    Tiffany Springer sat at her desk and could imagine what was happening behind the closed door. She was typical of many young women receptionists: bubbly personality, blond hair, young, and very attractive. Blaine had found through the years that his receptionists were looking for a husband or looking at the boss. Tiffany didn’t seem to fit his preconceived mold. She seemed perfectly satisfied with being an exceptional receptionist. She'd worked as his administrative assistant for two years since Pam disappeared. 

    Tiffany’s daily routine was to pour a cup of coffee and place it on his desk with the morning newspaper the minute she saw Blaine’s car pull into his parking space. He walked into the office two minutes later, a briefcase in one hand and jiggling the keys to his Corvette in the other.

     “Good morning,” he said, an impersonal smile and not looking at her.

     She knew the minute he saw the morning headline, he would close his office door, the light on his phone would light up, and he’d call Beverly his mistress. Tiffany realized she could get in trouble if caught listening to his phone conversation, but that was part of the excitement of working for a lecherous boss. 

###

 WOMAN MISSING TWO YEARS AGO FOUND IN PARK 

    The headline jumped out at Tom Blaine. He sat at his desk for his morning coffee. He had to lay the paper flat to read because his hands were trembling. He finished the article, jumped up from his chair, and began pacing back and forth. The incident from two years ago was coming back to haunt him. A return of the dead. 

    Tom Blaine was a self-made man who'd come from nothing to become a successful businessman. He was born in the East Bottoms in a small two-bedroom house built for families in the late 1800s who worked in the meatpacking industry. His father was an alcoholic, and after five kids and frequent beatings, his mother died when he was fifteen. If it hadn't been for a couple of teachers and a counselor, Tom would never have left that hellhole. All he could remember was it was cold in the winter, hot in the summer, and the stream of cockroaches that covered the walls and floors of the shack no matter the weather.      He was in his mid-fifties, in good shape for someone who sat all day. He'd been married for twenty-eight years to Andrea, his college sweetheart. 

    Then there was Beverly, his mistress of three years, and it had been hard at times to support two households, but it made him work harder. ### Blaine held the phone to his head while waiting for Beverly to answer and ran his other hand through his black hair. Her voice was soft and mellow when she answered the phone.

     “Hello?”

     "Did you read the headline in the newspaper?" he asked.

     Beverly Hayes knew that Tom Blaine was predictable, and that is what she liked about him: no surprises. She was in IT and working for a financial firm when she met him during a business meeting. The meeting continued long after business hours and ended up in a hotel room for the night. She realized she'd found a goldmine. She'd been his mistress for three years. Beverly had awakened early, turned on the morning news, and the minute she heard that Pam's body had been found she knew that Tom would be calling her.

     “First thing this morning,” she said, picking up her cup of coffee from the Keurig.

     She set her cell phone down on the end table so she could continue drinking her coffee. His voice sounded desperate. 

    “It's starting all over. She's returning to haunt me.”

    Beverly leaned back, ran her free hand through her hair, and shook her head at the cell phone. 

    "Don't get melodramatic, Tommy. Everything's going to be alright."  

     He hated her calling him Tommy because it made him feel like a kid. She had an ‘I don’t care attitude’ and never understood the necessity of being discreet about their affair. If Andrea found out about their relationship, ‘So what.’.

     "Easy for you to say. I was the last one to see Pam alive and the police questioned me for three months before finally dropping it."

    “It won't go on for three months. Tell them what you said two years ago and things will be fine. I don't understand what your problem is.”

    “You don't understand! They tried to trick me into confessing when she went missing.”

    “If we stay calm, things will be fine.”

    “If we stay calm everything will be fine? I don't remember the police grilling you.”

     “Why don't you come over later so I can calm your nerves?”

 2 

     

    "You must be out of your mind!" 

     Kelly Lampson screamed. She pointed at a picture of her mother on the fireplace mantel. "Do you think Mother would want you to go back?"

    Bob Lampson was going on sixty, retired four years ago from the police department after thirty years to take care of his dying wife. He calmly stood with his hands folded to listen to his youngest vent before he could explain his new position with the police department. He had two daughters: Lee lived in Virginia Beach, Virginia with three kids and was married to a submarine Commander; Kelly, the youngest, was still trying to find her place in life. She reminded Bob of his wife, Caitlin, with her long dark hair piled on top of her head, her broad shoulders, her free spirit, and her go-for-it attitude. Lampson always thought his youngest would go to college to play basketball. She lost all interest in team sports upon graduating. Rollerblading, hiking, and running took over. She majored in English and now worked for the Martin City Times, a local newspaper covering south Kansas City that paid little. To make ends meet, Kelly moved back in with her father.

    "You're too old to be dodging bullets. It's a crazy world out there."

    Her hands covered her face as she shook her head. He'd seen that same reaction from Kelly since she was two years old when she didn't agree with you. Caitlin had called Kelly ‘Our drama queen. You must let her perform’.

     "It's not what you think, Kelly. I'm not going back to Homicide. I'm going to be working on cold cases." 

    Kelly dropped her hands to her sides, a long strand of hair fell in front of her face, and her green eyes stared suspiciously at her father.

    "Explain."

     Lampson pushed his hands into his pockets, tucked his upper lip under his lower lip, and bowed his head. The speckled gray and light brown goatee was barely visible as it blended with his fading brown tan but his blue eyes came alive as he spoke.

     "I'm more of a consultant working for minimum wage," he said.

    He glanced up at Kelly and could tell she didn't know what to say. Finally, she burst out laughing. 

    "Only my dad. Where will you work?" 

    "I won't have an office, but I can go to South Patrol if need be."

"You can't keep police files at home." 

    "All by computer. I won't be able to print anything. This is a test."

    "I guess. Is this your brainchild?"

     "Yeah. I've been offered positions with private agencies but that would be a full-time job and too many hours. The department will give me one case to work on that the cold case unit has gone over. " 

    "When do you start?"

     "Tomorrow." 

    He paused. Kelly clenched her fists at her side and squealed.

     “This is going to be fun!”

     Lampson frowned. He didn't know how to take his daughter's sudden enthusiasm. 

### 

    The next morning Captain Margaret Hamilton sat across from Lampson in the near-empty neighborhood coffee shop tapping her folded hands on the table. Her hair was swept back, her nails cut short without polish, and an attractive woman who didn't need to wear makeup. Twenty years younger than Lampson, he realized that she was a good cop and very ambitious when she worked with him in Homicide. 

    “You look tired,” she said. “Do you think you’re up to doing this?”

     The corners of his mouth twitched in a half-hearted smile

    “I like to think I’m bored.”

    “Are you sure it’s boredom?” she asked. 

    “I don’t know. Maybe after taking care of Caitlin for so long followed by sitting on my ass and pretending I’m happy finally wore me down. I need a change.”

     She paused, picked up the folder, and looked hard into his eyes.

    "You know I'm going out on a limb hiring you." 

    "I know. I appreciate it." 

    "You can't have a badge but I believe I worked out something for you." 

    "Okay. I understand." 

    Margaret reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a manilla envelope. 

    "This has various forms and instructions on how you will keep track of hours, a daily log, and how to get online. I have also included cards that say you are a police consultant. We'll see if that works. Once you’re settled in, we’ll go online so you can enter everything on your computer because your handwriting is for shit."

     Bob laughed as he took the envelope. 

    "Got it." 

    Margaret looked around the room to make sure she wouldn't be heard. 

    “This is stretching the consultant's role. You know that." 

    "I know." 

    "Did you see the morning paper about Pamela Cochran?"

     "I saw it. I wasn't assigned that case but if I remember right, she worked for a small security company and turned up missing. Her boyfriend reported she didn't come home from work and her boss was the main suspect but we couldn't prove it."

     "That sums it up. Pamela Cochran is going to be your first case."

     Bob’s head jerked back. 

    “That's a surprise. Won't finding her body open up a new investigation?" 

    "Not unless the autopsy tells us something or someone comes forward with new information." 

    “What shape was the body in?” 

    “Pretty bad. The body had gym weights tied to it but they didn't hold the body down that well. We can tell she was hit on the back of the head and then stabbed “ 

    “Why wasn't the body discovered earlier?”

    “At that particular place the body was found, there was some brush and a fallen tree that hid the body. Remember, very few use that lake “

    Lampson frowned.

    "I'm not going to be stepping on anybody's toes, am I?"

    "I don't think so. Anyway, your old friend, Josh will be on the case, and he'll be your main contact and support. He's been advised that you're coming on board."

    Lampson smiled. 

    "I think you've thought of everything.”

     Margaret stood up and held out her hand. It felt firm and warm.

     "I hope so. Good luck. Contact Josh asap." "I'll do that.

 ### 

    Tom Blaine had slipped out of the office and minutes later Tiffany received a call from her part-time boyfriend, Tate Hanley. 

    “Hi honey, can you talk?" 

    Tiffany sighed inwardly. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to Tate at the moment. Tate was no different than most of the men she’d dated in her young life, but she had been able to keep him on a short leash. 

    She gave a laconic reply. 

    “Sure.” 

    “Your old friend was found stuck in a city lake yesterday.” 

    Tiffany rolled her eyes.

     “I listen to the news, Tate “ 

    “Your boss is worried?”

    “Wouldn't you be upset? It means the police coming around asking questions.” 

    “Did he ever tell the police about the missing money?” 

    Tiffany gripped the phone and her reply was stern. 

    “I told you that in confidence and you better not repeat it.”

    Tate chuckled. 

    “I won't. I bet he's sweating it right now.”

     “He ran out of here minutes ago to cry on his girlfriend's shoulder.”  Tate was silent. "Tate?" 

    "Ain't that interesting. I'm assuming you listened to the conversation between the two. Tell me about it."

 3 

    Tom Blaine had moved Digital Security from Westport to a larger building in Kansas City's River Market area. There was another security firm located in town that he and his partner secretly hoped would eventually buy his business and then he would be set for life. Blaine didn’t know much about security or computers but put the money up with his ex-partner. He ran the business side and his partner did the security and programming. The River Market office was mainly for sales, marketing, and billing. The actual programming was out of Montana and they had hardware spread around the country. He didn't know how it would impact his private life if the firm was purchased because Digital Security provided the perfect cover for him to see Beverly. After Digital Security was sold, how would he explain to Andrea he was seeing Beverly? There would be no late business meetings or trips. If he did sell the company, he'd have time to find out if Beverley was her real name. She never talked about family, where she grew up, or where she went to school. She was an enigma.

    Beverly lived on the Eastside of downtown where new expensive homes and townhouses replaced older homes owned by people of color. He'd bought a modest newer home in the area from a couple getting a divorce. He pulled into the driveway and he saw Beverly pull open the curtain on the large window facing downtown. She was completely naked with a bottle of wine in one hand and waved at him with the other. Beverly was always exciting and calming at the same time, and any thoughts about where she came from were forgotten.

 ### 

    Lampson stared at the computer screen as he scanned through the articles concerning Pamela Cochran's disappearance and all mentioned that Tom Blaine had taken her to lunch the day she disappeared. Lampson printed off a couple of the articles and decided to look up Tom Blaine, but found nothing special that would make him suspect Blaine except that he was the last one to see Pam Cochran alive. Lampson wondered why Blaine was a prime suspect because there was no proof he was involved in her life or disappearance. He was a self-made millionaire who married his college sweetheart and had two kids at University. There was a newspaper article with a picture showing the parents getting ready to drive their daughters back to Columbia. One daughter was at Stephens and the other at Missouri University. Lampson printed a couple of additional articles and was about to set up his whiteboard when he was interrupted by his cell phone.

   "Hey, Josh."

   "Hey, I just talked to Margaret. Welcome back. This is the craziest arrangement. I don't see how this will work, but I'll do my best." 

    “Just what do you do now? Are you with Cold Cases?” 

    “Naw. I work for Margaret and she dumps different jobs on me like watching old men who come back to work for minimum wage.”

     "Tell me what you know about the case." 

    "It's still an open case and no new information for almost two years. The cold case guys looked at it a year ago. It went nowhere. I'm surprised that Margaret gave it to you although I know this case bothered her." no

   "Why is that?" 

    "She was good friends with the mother." 

    "Did they get a statement from the mother because the newspaper barely mentioned her except that she was distraught?" 

    Lampson heard papers rustling. 

    "I have the file here and she made a statement, but it looks like nothing you can sink your teeth in." 

    "Is there a telephone number?" 

    "Yeah. I'll text it to you. Do you think she might know something?"

    “I don't know until I talk to her. " 

    “Keep me informed,” 

    “Will do. Oh, I need a background search on Tiffany Springer. I didn't see one in the case file.” 

    "Any reason you want one on Springer? She wasn't considered to be a suspect.” 

    “Nothing specific. She was just mentioned and I like to cover all the bases.”

    “I'll see what I can do,” Josh said.

     Lampson called Mrs. Cochran and made an appointment for later in the afternoon. He unpacked and set up the whiteboard. He didn't have time to use it because he had to meet Shelly Cochran.

 ###

    Lampson was met at the door by a thin woman with silver-gray hair and the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. An attractive woman with a warm smile, her face told him that life had been hard on her the past few years. 

    "Come in. Margaret said you might be calling." 

    Lampson couldn’t hide his surprise that Margaret told her he might be calling since he had no idea until this morning that Mrs. Cochran existed.

     "Oh, when was that?" he asked. 

   "I think a couple of days ago," she said as he was led through a simple, almost minimalist house that didn't even have pictures on the white walls. She noticed Lampson looking at the bare walls and said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I don’t like clutter. I like the sun. It always seems too dark in the house, especially since Pam went missing, so I built the sunroom." 

     She motioned Lampson to a chair directly across from her.

     Now, how can I help? I've talked to the police twice."

    "I want you to tell me about Pamela. What was she like? What did she do? What did she like?” 

    "Why is that?" 

    "Let's just say I want to get to know her better.” 

    “Do you have children Mr. Lampson?" 

    "Two girls and as different as day and night." 

    "Do they get along?" 

    "Like a cat and a dog." 

    "Pam was my oldest. It is true when they say to have the girl first if you have a girl and a boy.” 

    “Why is that?”

     “Boys are bossy with their sister if they are born first.” 

    “Well, I won't have that problem.”

   She rubbed her hands together and smiled. There was something comforting about this detective but she couldn't put her finger on it. He was very soft-spoken, reassuring but direct. It was also exciting that he wanted to know about Pam. She liked him very much although she didn't like the well-trimmed goatee that made his mouth look dirty.

    “That's true,” she answered. “I'm sorry. Life hasn't been the same since Pam…” 

    “I understand. Now, tell me about Pam." 

    Shelly spent the next hour talking about Pam as a young girl, a teenager, and a bright girl on her way to university. She found a boyfriend, fell in love, and graduated with a degree in computer 

    Lampson interrupted. 

     "Why did she want an AA job when she was qualified for a better job?" 

     She and Ben were going to get married after he graduated at the end of the summer. He was in ROTC and his Army basic training would be in San Antonio, and then they'd be stationed in Europe for three years. She hoped to get a job once they were settled overseas. Many programmers work from their homes." 

    “Were they still engaged when she went missing?” 

    “Oh yes. Their plans changed because he caught shingles that erased their plans for Europe.” 

    “Why did shingles interfere with them going to Europe?” 

    “It went to his eyes and he is partially sighted in his left eye. He was now not qualified for the Army.” 

    Lampson hadn't written anything down. He just listened to a distraught mother talk about her daughter. Lampson found himself immediately drawn to this grieving mother. Her voice was soft, soothing, and comforting.

     "Did she talk about the office scuttlebutt?" 

    Shelly Cochran smiled and looked down at her hands in her lap.

    "Oh, yes. Pamela was sheltered somewhat from the world growing up. Catholic school, a small college, and she didn't have a boyfriend until she met Ben. I thought they were perfect for each other." 

    "Was she shocked?" 

    "Oh, I guess. She talked about Mr. Blaine's affair and she thought it funny how he had to juggle his time between two women and not get them confused." 

    "Do you remember the name of the mistress?" 

    With a puzzled expression, Mrs Cochran muttered to herself and then a smile crept onto her face. 

    "Beverly. It was Beverly."  

4 

 

    Lampson had Shelly Cochran give him Ben Sanders's address, and he arrived in front of his apartment thirty minutes later. The apartment was new, the exact duplicate of many new apartments that were springing up around the city near the freeway. A young woman in her early twenties answered the door. Lampson could see Sanders leaving the front room.

    "Bob Lampson, a special consultant with the police department. I'd like to speak to Ben Sanders."

     She backed away from the door to let Lampson in. 

    "Ben, someone here to see you," she yelled before returning to the well-worn couch, a bag of chips, and a can of soda to watch television.

    Sanders walked out minutes later dressed in gray sweatpants and a white teeshirt. Lampson introduced himself before Sanders could get a word out.

     “Is there a place we can talk? " asked Lampson. 

    “Yeah, in here.” 

    Sanders led him to a little breakfast nook just big enough for two people. Sanders didn't offer Lampson a drink before sitting down with a tired look on his face as if he'd gone through this many times before.

    "I guess you're here because they found Pam's body?"

    Lampson took out his phone and laid it on the table.

     "Do you mind if I record?" 

    Sanders glanced from the phone to Lampson. 

    "Who are you again?" Lampson handed him a card. "I'm a special consultant with the police department investigating cold cases. We're looking at Pam Cochran's case again." 

    Sanders leaned forward in his chair, and in almost a whisper he asked, "Was Pam murdered?"

    "I haven't received the coroner's report yet." 

    Sanders leaned back in his chair, his body limp, and threw his head back with his eyes closed.  

    "I'm sorry," said Lampson. 

    Sanders sat back up, placed his hands on the table, and stared at Lampson. 

    "We had dinner at her uncle's house the night before she went missing. Her uncle wanted to talk about family matters. I excused myself until they'd finished. We had dinner, I took her home, and then I went home because she wasn't feeling well. I called her the next day to ask how she was feeling. She said okay. We would go out to eat and maybe a movie. He laid his head on the table and started to quietly cry. Lampson waited until he lifted his head. 

    "Uncle's name?" 

    "Charlie Waters. It should be in my statement from years ago. He hasn't moved " 

    “Sorry to hear about the shingles.” 

   “Yeah, that was a bummer. It ruined all of our plans.” 

     “How did Pam take it?” 

    “Okay. She was disappointed like I was but nothing we could do.”

    “Didn't it cause friction?” 

    “Hell, no, man. Why would it? Once it happened, she was going to turn in her notice at work and get a job in IT.” 

    "May I ask who the young girl is?" 

    Sanders looked quizzically at Lampson. 

    "My little sister. She lives with me while going to college. Why?"

    "Just wondered if you had moved on." 

    Sanders gave a half-smile. 

    "No." 

### 

    "It's about time you got home!" said Kelly, her eyes filled with excitement as she swung open the front door to greet her father. 

    "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?" he asked, as he brushed by her and headed to the kitchen for a cold beer.

    Kelly followed and got a glass for him out of the cupboard. She grabbed the bottle out of his hand and tipped the glass so that the glass slowly filled with a minimum head. She handed the glass to her father.

    “Don’t you have a date or something? What if your friends find out you are staying home with your dad?” 

    "I'm helping you solve this case and write about it." 

    “Oh?” Lampson nodded, took a sip of beer, and headed for the whiteboard in the war room, the spare bedroom. Kelly had already filled half of the whiteboard with pictures, lines pointing at various pictures, and typed sheets of paper. Lampson stopped. 

    "What's this?" \     

    Kelly pulled her dad to a chair. 

    "Sit down and I'll tell you what I found." She moved to the whiteboard and pointed to a picture of Pam Cochran. "Twenty-two years old, administrative assistant to Tom Blaine at Digital Security, engaged to Ben Sanders who would go overseas when he graduated, and Pam would go with him. Note, he never went overseas and he was discharged from the army. Two weeks before Pam went missing, he contracted shingles and it permanently affected his eyesight." 

    "I didn't notice anything when I talked to him,” said Lampson.

    "Info says he was almost blind in one eye. Although a suspect at first, he has a solid alibi. He was out with Pam the night before her disappearance and didn't stay the night because she felt sick. The next day he was in classes until three o'clock. Phone records indicate he called her several times between classes," said Kelly.

     “How did you obtain the phone records?” 

    “It’s in the file.” She wrote the new information on the whiteboard before continuing. "I don't believe Tom Blaine was making any passes at Pam because of his affair with Beverly Hayes.” 

    “How did you know about Beverly Hayes?” asked Lampson. 

    Kelly turned around with a big smile. 

    “Scuttlebutt among reporters that doesn't make it into print. She was never interviewed by the police, by the way.”

     Kelly frowned. "Maybe Pam was going to blackmail Blaine and Hayes." 

    "Possibly. Mothers don't always know about their sons and daughters, but I seriously doubt it. Talking to Pam's mother this afternoon, I don't see Pam as someone who would want to become involved with Tom Blaine romantically or try to blackmail him.”

    Lampson stood up to point to the picture of Beverly Hayes. 

    “Where did you get the picture?” 

    “From a reporter named Patrick. He writes on crime in the city and he had a picture.” 

    "Do you think she might have been jealous?" 

    Kelly thought for a second.

    "Maybe. We don't know much about her."

     Lampson smiled. 

    “No reporter scuttlebutt?” 

    Lampson sat on the chair and put his hands behind his head.

    "Anyone else?" 

    "The only other person that had contact with Pam that day was Tiffany Springer." 

    "I asked Josh to get me the dope on her because we had nothing on file." 

    "She was a gofer for Pam. She did some typing, filing, and ran errands. Got promoted when Pam disappeared. Oh, by the way, I did find out that Blaine came back to the office after lunch with Pam, and she was sent on an errand to find a present for Blaine's wife." 

    "Where did you get all of this information?" 

    "The file, library, looking at old news files, talking with some reporter friends, and I used your credit card to get access to the paper's archive." 

    "Kelly!"

     "I don't have the money," she whined. 

    Lampson stared at the whiteboard. 

   "No wonder it's a cold case. So far, the lineup of suspects sucks. I need to interview Blaine tomorrow. Why don't you interview Tiffany?"

    Kelly couldn't miss the stress on her father's face as he stared at the whiteboard. He smiled when she laid her hand on his shoulder. 

    “You worried? This is your first case?”

     Lampson patted his daughter's hand.

     “A little.”

    “It’s a cold case, okay?” 

    Lampson stared at the information on the whiteboard that told him absolutely nothing.

     “I know,” he whispered.

 ###

     It had been a bright sunny day that turned to rain around four o’clock that afternoon. By the time Tom Blaine came out of the office, it was a downpour. This was his second visit to Beverly’s today to finish what they’d started earlier. Andrea had been tiffed when he told her he had to meet with a customer. He wondered if she believed him. Tate turned on the windshield wipers or he would have missed Tom Blaine running out of his office with his briefcase over his head and in his other hand, a bouquet.

    "Yes!" Tate whispered, seeing the flowers. Blaine pulled out into traffic and Tate eased his car out to follow. 

     They had just pulled onto the freeway when his dashboard screen lit up and his phone rang. 

    "Where are you?" Tiffany's gruff voice made him wince. Why was she calling him now? "I thought we were going out to eat, and I'd stay the night." 

    Oh, shit! He’d forgotten about their date and Tiffany wouldn't let him get out of it. He'd never had a relationship with a woman where they always met at his place, she dictated what, where, and when they had a date, and she always paid so he couldn't complain. He’d asked her once, "Where did you get your money to afford everything?'

    "Uncle Bobby left me an inheritance, but he told me not to trust dickheads like you," she’d replied with a laugh. 

    "So why work?" 

    "Boredom. If I didn't work I'd be bored stiff." 

    Tate didn't like it when she tracked him down. He felt she knew where he was, whether walking or driving. He'd checked his phone and found nothing suspicious like a tracking app. 

    "Following up on some things," he finally answered. 

    Blaine took the next exit and was heading south on The Paseo with Tate close behind. 

    "Like what?" Tiffany asked. 

     "Just things. I'll be at your place in an hour " 

    Tate hung up and followed Blaine for about two blocks before he turned into an area of expensive single-story identical townhomes. Tate reached into the bag on the seat beside him and pulled out a camera. Blaine pulled into a driveway, jumped out, and walked to the door. Tate’s camera caught the image of Blaine embracing the woman who answered the door. 

    "Gotcha!" he whispered. Just a few more shots, he thought as he got out of the car. He checked the pictures before leaving and a broad smile swept his face. “Well, what do you know? Hello, sweet mama.”

 5 

    Lampson and Kelly entered the Digital Security office the next morning and were impressed by the modern decor, They walked up to a desk with a laptop, phone, and a printer on a small table to one side. Tiffany Springer looked up as they approached the desk and flashed an exaggerated toothy smile. 

    "May I help you?" 

    Lampson handed her his card. The strong odor of vanilla and lavender overpowered his nose and he had to step back. He wondered how she could douse herself with such an outdated perfume. 

    “I'm here to see Mr. Blaine.” 

     She inspected the card and looked up at Lampson. 

    “Do you have an appointment?” 

    Lampson’s demeanor didn’t change. 

    “No. It won't take a minute. Just routine questions about the Pam Cochran disappearance two years ago.” 

   Tiffany laughed. 

    "I think he has been expecting you since he heard the news. Mr. Blaine is on a conference call, but the minute he's off, I'll escort you into the office." 

    "While we're waiting, we'd like to ask you some questions about Pam Cochran," Kelly said, taking Tiffany by surprise. 

    "Me? I was Pam's assistant at the time. I knew very little about her in or outside of work. Is this because her body was recently discovered?"

     "Yes," said Kelly.

     "I don't know what I can tell you."

     Lampson took a second to look at the young woman before him. She had a timeless look about her. He surmised she was in her mid to late twenties, breast augmentation, and the bottled blonde hair was shoulder length. 

    "We have everybody's statement from two years ago but yours," explained Kelly. "How was Pam to work with?" 

    Tiffany shrugged. 

    "Okay, I guess. My office was down the hall and I didn't see her that much." 

    "No girl talk?" asked Lampson. 

    "Not really."

    "Did she talk about her fiance?" asked Kelly. 

    Tiffany was silent and Lampson could see the wheels turning in her head. She glanced from one to the other and her lips clenched for a second. 

    "She did tell me she was thinking about breaking it off with her fiance."

    Lampson and Kelly looked at each other completely puzzled.

    "Are you sure about that?" asked Lampson.

     "She said he wasn't the person she thought he was." 

     "Why?" asked Kelly. 

     Lampson leaned over with his hands planted on the desk.

     "Meaning?" 

     "I got the feeling he was rough with her.” 

     “Physically?" asked Kelly. 

     "Yes." 

     The phone light went off and Tiffany stood up, brushed her short skirt, and pointed toward the office door. 

     "I think Mr Blaine will see you now." 

     She ushered them into the office and Tom Blaine rose from his desk with a confused expression.

     "May I help you?" 

     Tiffany explained who they were and before she could finish, Blaine plopped down in his chair and moaned. 

     "I told you guys everything two years ago."

      Lampson and Kelly sat down across from him. 

     "This won't take long," said Lampson, "but there is one thing you left out of your statement two years ago." 

     His head popped up to stare at Lampson. He felt the rapid beat of his heart and his mouth was suddenly dry. 

     "I did?” 

     "Yeah, you never stated the reason why you were going to lunch with Ms. Cochran.” 

     Blaine shook his head as if clearing out the cobwebs. There was a visible sigh of relief. 

     "Okay. I thought I did."

     He motioned to Tiffany to leave.

      “No, you didn't.” 

     “Well, there was a reason for that.” 

     “Oh?” 

     "She told me someone inside the company was stealing money from the firm." 

     "Serious amounts?" 

     "Yes. Lots of money and we couldn't figure out how they did it."

     “Did you think it was an inside job?” 

     “Ididn't know until Pam met with me for lnch. Pam was the one who discovered it.” 

      “How were they doing it?” 

     Blaine tapped his fingers on the desk, lost in thought for a minute.

     “You do know that Pam had a master's degree in programming and this job was only temporary.” 

     “We knew that,” said Bob. 

     “Well, Tim Cray in our accounting department was the first to catch the anomaly. He called her to take a look at our program. They worked off and on for two weeks and that's when she approached me.”

    "Did you stop the theft?"

      “For a while,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “I think the word got out somehow and it stopped for a while. When it stopped, Pam and Tim thought the theft was coming from inside the firm.”

     “Maybe we should talk to Tim Cray,” said Kelly.

      “You can't,” said Blaine. “He was the victim of a hit-and-run shortly after Pam disappeared. It was sad. He was walking home and was struck crossing the street. The driver was never caught.” 

     Lampson stared at Kelly and then back at Blaine. 

     “Married?” 

     “No. Lived with his mother.”

      Lampson got up and tapped on the desk with his fist. 

     “If we'd known this information two years ago I might not be standing in front of your desk asking questions.” 

     Sweat ran down Blaine’s forehead as he hung his head, unable to face Lampson. 

     “I just didn't know what to do,” he whined. 

     “We need his mother's address and phone number,” said Lampson.

     “I'll get it for you,” said Blaine, pushing a number on the phone.

     “Tiffany, get me Tim Cray's address and phone number.” 

6

 

     “That was an eye-opener,” said Kelly, as they got into the car.

     “What do you think about Sanders being rough with Pam!” 

     “I can't see Pam confiding with Tiffany. Right now, I'm not buying it.” 

     “What about Cray?” she asked.

     “I'll call Josh to see if we have anything on Tim Cray,” said Lampson. 

     “I'll see what I can find,” said Kelly.

      “This sounds more and more like an inside job.” 

     Lampson glanced at his daughter and chuckled. 

     “Inside job? Is that reporter talk?”

     Kelly hit her father on the shoulder.

     “Smartass.”

     “Seriously, I want you to call Tim Cray’s mother and find out if he talked about the money missing from work.” 

    “You want me to call?” 

    “You got to do something other than talk to your reporter friends. Just don’t tell  Josh you are doing this for me.”

    When they were back home, Lampson called Josh and told him about Blaine withholding information. 

    “Now we have a motive where before we were shooting blanks. I’ll have to turn this over to the prosecutor,” said Josh.

 ### 

    The mailman handed Tiffany the envelope with Tom Blaine's name scrawled on the front and no stamp or return address. Tiffany turned the crumpled white envelope in her hands thinking there was something vaguely familiar with the handwriting, but she couldn't place where she'd seen it before.

     "Where'd you find this?"

     He pointed over his shoulder at the front door.

     "It was stuck in the handle of the door ." 

    "Strange. I didn't see it this morning."

     "It would be hard to miss." 

    Tiffany sorted the mail and took Tom Blaine's mail to him with the crumpled envelope on top.

     "What's this?" he asked.

     "Don't know. The mailman found it stuck through the handle on the front door. Someone must have placed it there after the police left."

    Blaine opened the crumpled envelope and pulled out a couple of sheets of paper with pictures of Beverly and him yesterday evening. Twenty-five thousand dollars was scrawled under the top picture. He nervously jammed the papers back into the envelope and motioned for Tiffany to leave. He picked up the phone to dial Beverly. 

    "Someone followed me last night and took pictures of us together."

    She laughed. 

    "A hug and kiss aren't compromising, Tom."

     "Maybe not for you, but I can’t just brush it off." 

    "Tom, the guy came to my door as I was getting ready to go to the store this morning. He looked so suspicious, slipping an envelope in my mailbox that I followed him home."

    "You followed him?" 

    I don't know what compelled me to do." 

    “That was stupid. You could have been hurt!” 

    “I know that now, but something said to follow him” 

    "Did you see the pictures?"

    "Yes. A hug and a kiss, remember?"

     "I want this guy's address."

     "Tom, you're not going to do anything stupid?" 

    "Just give me the address.'"

     “Later.”

###

    "Don't you have to work?" asked Lampson.

     Kelly and Lampson sat in his kitchen eating sandwiches they'd bought at the local QuikTrip. Kelly put her hand up to cover her mouthful of sandwich. 

    "Special assignment..."

     Lampson took a sip of his beer and held up his hand.

    "Wait until you're finished. In the meantime, I've been thinking about what Blaine said about the loss of money. It appears no customers complained so how did Tim Cray figure out money was missing? I figure the money had to have been taken out once their account was credited." 

    Kelly swallowed and took a drink from her beer.

     “Do you think Blaine knew about it before Pam told him?" 

    "He had to even though he said he didn’t. You can't lose a significant amount of money and keep it hidden," said Lampson. "The way he talked about the theft, it wasn't consistent." 

    "How could this happen at a security firm?" 

    Lampson thought for a second.

     "Maybe that's the challenge." 

    "What do you mean?" 

    Lampson held up a finger while he tried to wrap his mind around the theft.

     "Does the theft happen when funds are electronically transferred to the bank or at the bank level?" 

    Kelly laughed.

     "Something tells me we are going back to your organized crime days."

     Lampsoon smiled. 

    "Let me tell you about a case I worked on back in the nineties. I was in the organized crime unit and a case that we thought was organized crime. Instead, it was the work of one clever individual. This person worked in the IT department of a large corporation. The corporation had never known the money was missing until an internal audit found a mystery account." 

    "A mystery account?" 

    "I believe it was in accounts receivables. Every time the money came in, one penny\ was transferred to this account."

     "A penny?"

     "A penny. That's why no one noticed it. "

     "Well, that doesn't seem to be a major crime " 

    “When you are doing thousands of transactions, it adds up over time. It added up to millions of dollars over ten years."

     "Did they catch the person?" 

    "No They figured out how he did it but his offshore account was closed and the funds had been transferred out "

     "How did he do it?" 

    "One line of code that sent the penny to a secret offshore account. This has been replicated by others but they were far greedier than a penny."

    "So, you think that is what is happening at Digital Security?"

     "Yes, or something similar. The pattern of withdrawals is not predictable and it appears they can't find the code that triggers the routine, and what is unusual is that it is so random." 

    “Why would they make it random? Why not get as much money as you can?” 

    “I don't know. Harder to catch?”

 ###

    After lunch, Lampson was back at the whiteboard when Josh called.

    "What did you find out?" 

    "There's nothing on Springer or Hayes. It is like they never existed. No Facebook, no Instagram, nada. Neither have police records, tax records, marriage or divorce records.” 

    "Did you get an address on the one?" asked Lampson. 

    "Yeah, I got that." 

    "Text it to me."

    "You never have a pen do you?"

     "Lazy, I guess.”

     There was a slight pause.

     "Kelly still tagging along?"

    "No, she had to get back to work." 

    "How's she doing? Driving you nuts?'

     "Josh, you wouldn't believe it. She's been helpful."

    There was another pause. 

    "Well, the text message is on the way " 

    Kelly called when Lampson hung up. 

    “I talked to Mrs. Cray.” 

    “And?” 

    “The only thing he told his mother was he had found someone was stealing money from the company and he thought it was an inside job.” 

    Lampson thought for a second. 

    “Is that it?” 

    “Yep.”

     “Well, good work. Was she suspicious about her son’s death?”

    Kelly’s voice was excited. 

    “She saw it!”    

    “She saw it?”

     “Yes. She was looking out the front window when she heard the bus stop. It appears the bus always makes a weird sound when it stops. Anyway, the car pulled out of a parking spot and intentionally ran over her son."

7

     Lampson pulled up in front of a very expensive townhouse east of downtown with a great city view. He had heard of the new development of expensive homes being built next to smaller homes in a lower-income neighborhood. It was impressive and Lampson knew that the smaller houses would be gone. He knocked on the front door and a woman in her early thirties answered. She was attractive and Lampson could tell by her mannerisms that this was one self-assured woman. The minute he saw her one of his mother’s one-liners came to mind.

     ‘She’s the tail that wags the dog.’ 

    "You a cop?"

    "Yes…" 

    Before Lampson could introduce himself, Beverly Hayes walked back into the house.

     "Thought so. Come on in," she said over her shoulder.

     Even though it was early afternoon, Beverly Hayes was dressed to kill. Red hair piled on top of her head, teasing blue eyes, tall and thin, and a very sensual sway of the hips as he followed her into the house.       "Take a seat," she said, sitting on a sofa with the city skyline as a backdrop. "So, what's your name?"

     "Bob Lampson. I'm a special consultant assigned to the Pam Cochran case."

     Beverly crossed her legs, stretched her arms along the back of the sofa, and said,

     "So, Mr. Lampson, what do you want with me? I didn't know this woman." 

    "You know her body was found in a city park lake?" 

    Her reply was curt. 

    “I watch the news.” 

    "You never met her?"

     Beverly laughed. 

    "Do you think the boss wants to show me off at the Christmas party? I'm supposed to stay hidden until I'm needed."

     Lampson waved his hand around the room. 

    "This all yours?" 

    "Yes. In my name and an annuity that covers all costs as long as I stay here.” 

    "And if you sell?" 

    "I get the profits and the annuity is null and void."

    "Did Mr. Blaine ever talk to you about Ms. Cochran?" 

    Beverly looked over her shoulder at the city skyline as if bored. 

    “If he did, it wasn't anything I remember. " 

    "Did she know about you and Mr. Blaine?" 

    Hell, I don't know and don't care. Keeping the affair secret is his problem." 

    Lampson stood up to leave. 

    "Okay. I guess that's all." 

    "Hey, wait a second. I got something for you." 

    She hopped up and rushed to a small table by the entrance, opened a drawer, pulled out the envelope she'd received earlier, and handed it to Lampson. 

    "What's this?" he asked, inspecting the pictures.

     She sat back down. 

    “Some guy put it in my door this morning. Pissed me off so I followed the jerk." 

    "Do you think this has anything to do with Pam Cochran?" 

    "I don't know but I wrote his address on the back." 

    "Tate Hanley. How did you get his name? "

    “I subscribe to White Pages. It wasn't hard.” 

    “You know this guy?” 

    She drew her head back and made a face. 

    “No, and he won't get any money.” 

    “Did Tom Blaine get one?” asked Lampson. 

    “I'm sure.” 

    He looked up from the paper. 

    "May I keep this?"

    "Be my guest. I hope you get him before Tom does.” 

    “Are you serious?" asked Lampson. 

    She leaned forward.

     “Tom can get very angry,” 

###

     Lampson stopped by Cosentino's Market and brought home one of their prepared meals: pot roast and vegetables. He had loved to cook and bake bread, but since Caitlin’s passing and the girls leaving home, he rarely picked up a pan. His diet was horrible and he'd lost weight to where his pants were starting to look baggy on him. It had been two years since Caitlin died. It was hard to sleep in their bedroom, so he often fell asleep in his recliner. 

    He opened a beer and wandered into the war room, glancing at the whiteboard notes from earlier. The facts were all jumbled and nothing appeared to fit together. First, Blaine had the most to lose. He was supporting two girls in college, a very expensive mistress, and it takes a lot of money to support a wife and a mistress. 

    Beverly Hayes offered little information. Lampson thought about asking her to tell him her real name but realized that would go nowhere. She might have a motive for killing Pam if she thought Pam would interfere with her deal with Blaine but he doubted it. Like Beverly Hayes, 

    Tiffany had no background. It was like they both never existed. Tiffany dressed well and had good presentation skills, and Blaine must find her efficient, but nothing connected her to Pam except to run her errands.

     Andrea Blaine was the only other person not interviewed two years ago. He wondered why no one had talked to her. If Tom Blaine was embezzling money and Pam spilled the beans on him, he could lose everything. It sounded far-fetched but not completely off base. He'd had other cases where the wife had murdered someone to protect the husband and their assets. 

    Ben Sanders was the last one on the list. Ben had acted like he was still in love with Pam but from what Tiffany said, they were having problems. Why murder her? Did she find out he was hacking Digital Security's computer system? His degree was in computer science. His statement wasn’t different from his statement two years earlier. Lampson was sympathetic when they met but he couldn't afford to let it cloud his mind. He slipped up when he didn't talk to Ben’s sister. Ben had an alibi for the day Pam went missing, although his alibi for the night before was weak. It’s important to remember that the time of death hadn’t been established. 

    Lampson was getting tired. His watch said it was nine-thirty, so he turned on the TV and fell asleep. 

###

    “What can you tell me about Tate Hanley?” 

    Caleb Turner's head drew back and he gave Kelly a quizzical look.

    “You were there when he worked at the Times. Why are you asking me?”

    “It appears Tate is up to some bribery in case my dad is working.”

    Caleb and Kelly had met at Charlie Hooper’s for a drink. They sat in the back where they didn't have to shout to be heard. They did have to withstand the cigarette smoke from the smoking deck that Kelly called the death chamber. Caleb was a couple of years younger than Kelly and had worked in support at the Times. Support meant fixing computers, installing software, moving furniture, and being a general helper. Caleb was on a student visa from Kenya, and he still hadn't lost that English accent. He was a great dresser with short hair, and polite.

    “All the women hated Tate, so we avoided him like the plague.”

    “What makes you think the men didn't avoid him?” 

    “You had to work with him, I didn't.” 

    Caleb thought for a second.

    “I never understood, Tate. “ 

    “Why?” 

    Caleb picked up a fry and popped it in his mouth. 

    “Tate knew a lot more than he showed. He feigned not having programming skills, but that was a lie. He was an excellent programmer.” 

    Kelly reached across and stole one of Caleb's fries. 

    “Why would he do that?” she asked, before taking a bite of the French fry.

     “You'll have to ask Tate about that.” 

8

     Lampson awoke the next morning with Kelly slamming cabinet doors and the bubbling sound of Mr. Coffee. She was dressed for work. In his pajamas, Lamspson sat at the kitchen table and drank coffee with her while she told him about her conversation with Caleb before she went to work. He told Kelly he would visit Andrea Blaine later. 

    “So, how do you figure Tate Hanley fits into the murder of Pam Cochran? I don’t know. I’ll turn it over to Josh and let him figure out what to do with him.” 

    “Maybe he’s the one hacking the computer system.” 

    Lampson thought for a second. 

    “He may be a good programmer, but to hack into a system and steal money takes a high level of sophistication. Anyway, Pam Cochran thought it was an inside job.” 

    They sat there in silence for a minute lost in their thoughts. 

    “What do you want to do?” asked Kelly. 

    “Let’s sit on it and talk about it later. I may pass it by Josh and get his thoughts."

###

    Andrea Blaine was an attractive woman in her mid-forties with natural gray hair, a little overweight, and was not surprised when Lampson introduced himself. 

    “Finally! Come in.” 

    Lampson had a surprise look on his face as he followed her inside.

    “Thank you.” 

    On one side of the hallway was an ornate living room, the dining room on the other side with a large table that could seat at least twelve people. The hallway led into a large family room with all the amenities of an entertainment room. A bar on the left as you entered had a shelf full of different liquors and a door behind the bar led into the kitchen.

    “Make yourself comfortable,” she said, pointing toward two chairs next to the patio door that exited onto a large deck overlooking a wooded area. 

    She brought them coffee. 

    “This is nice,” he said, gesturing toward the wooded area. 

    “Yes. People are surprised when they visit and discover what we have out our backdoor. All kinds of wildlife. We have to make sure our pets don’t get outside without someone with them.” 

    “Look outside my backdoor and you’ll see a yard that needs mowing,” he said. 

    Andrea Blaine sat on the edge of the chair facing Lampson, a smile on her face, and her hands on her knees as if she was ready to hop up and attend to something. 

    “How can I help you?” she asked. 

    “I'm investigating the disappearance of Pam Cochran two years ago.” 

    Andrea Blaine hooked her hands around one knee and with her raised eyebrows, asked, “Don't you mean murdered?” 

    “I guess you're right, “ Lampson acknowledged. 

    “You think I can help you?” 

    “I don't know, to be honest. I saw in the case file that no one had talked to you. You also said ‘Finally’ when you opened the front door.”

    “I found it strange that I wasn't asked about Pam's disappearance two years ago. After all, my husband was the main suspect. They knew he was in an affair, and I thought it natural they should approach me.”

    Lampson chuckled.

     “Did you feel left out?” 

    Andrea laughed.

    “No, I did not feel left out.” 

    “Did you think your husband killed Pam?” 

    “No! I never thought that.” 

    “I don't understand why you'd want the police to talk to you.” 

    ”I didn't know Pam well. One week before Pam went missing, I was downtown and decided to eat at the Blue Nile Restaurant in the River Market. I recognized Pam was there, too, and I asked her to join me.”

    “When was this again?”  asked Bob.

     “One week before she disappeared.” 

    “Okay, continue.”

     “She told me about the missing money, and she was meeting with Tom the following week. I was concerned and asked her if she had any idea who was involved.”

     “She didn't know who it was, but she did believe it involved someone with ties to the company.” 

    “Did she mean they worked at Digital Security?” 

    Andrea dropped her knee and placed her hands in her lap. 

    “No, not necessarily. They could be an acquaintance of someone who works for Digital Security.”

    “No names?”

     “No names.”

###   

     Josh got out of his car when Lampson pulled into the driveway.  

    “Come in and I'll bring you up to date.”

     “I've got something for you,” said Josh. 

    They settled at the kitchen table and Lampson talked Josh into a beer.

 “So, what do you have for me?” asked Josh.

     He showed him the letter Beverly Hayes had given him with Tate Hanley’s name on the back of the picture. He summarized Kelly's information about Tate Hanley.

     “I don't see a connection to the Cochran murder.” 

    “Officially classified as a murder?” asked Lampson. 

    “Got the report this morning. They think it was a blunt object to the head and a knife to the heart.” 

    “Think?” 

    “Small mark on the ribs. Probably a stiletto. The minute they got her out of the water she almost melted in front of their eyes. She was a mess.” 

    “What do you think about the new information?” asked Lampson.

    “I’ll pass this information on about Hanley. What’s next?” 

    He talked about Andrea Blaine and her meeting with Pam Cochran.

    “Interesting, but nothing to sink your teeth into,” commented Josh.

    “I agree."

     “Let me tell you what I have. First, you asked me to get information on Tiffany Springer. There is none.” 

    “I’m not surprised. Kelly and her friend looked up and found nothing on social media about her. The same for Beverly Hayes.”

    “Tiffany Springer doesn't exist. We have no record of Tiffany Springer. No one has a record of Tiffany Springer. She doesn't have any social media accounts. She does have a social security number and it appears valid.”

    “Can you backtrack her social?” asked Lampson. 

    “We’re doing that now. I think she must have changed her name.”

    “Strange. I wonder why? What else?” 

    “There’s no one named Beverly Hayes.” 

    “Why am I not surprised?” 

    “She doesn’t have a social security number. So, who are these women?” asked Josh.

    “Let's go talk to Ms. Springer first and find out,” said Lampson.

 ### 

    Kelly had an appointment in Westport with a couple moving their artisan bakery to Martin City. The interview didn't last long so Kelly decided to see if she could catch Tate Hanley at home. Caleb had told her last night that Tate was working at home part of the time. His house was one of those old houses on Wyandotte Street in the Valentine area of the city. Kelly couldn’t understand how anyone could live in such a large house alone, especially with no storm windows or insulation. 

    Tate’s house looked old and drab compared to the other houses in the neighborhood. There was grass sprouting in the cracks of the crumbling front sidewalk. She stood on a large porch with spindles missing from the railing and pounded on the front door with her fist so he could hear her over the loud heavy metal music. 

    The door swung wide open when she knocked. 

    “Tate?” 

    She peeked in the door and a long-haired gray cat rushed out to escape the music. The house was dark but the music was coming from the back of the house. Kelly eased her way into the front entryway and down the dark narrow hallway leading to the kitchen. 

    “Hello. Tate?” 

    A chill ran through her body; she could sense something was wrong from the strong fecal odor that was almost overwhelming. A light came from the kitchen and the moment she entered she saw Tate with his eyes closed and his shirt soaked with blood. She rushed to him and felt for a pulse on his neck. His eyes flew open, and a hand grabbed her wrist.

    “Maureen!” He belched a mouthful of blood on Kelly's arm. “I …saw…she tried…kill…”

     Kelly tugged to release Tate's iron grip on her arm. 

    “Tate, let me call for an ambulance.” 

    Tate increased his grip on her arm as Kelly struggled to find her phone.

9 

    Tiffany Springer's mouth flew open when Lampson confronted her.

    “We know that Tiffany Springer does not exist, so who are you?”

    Sitting behind her desk, Tiffany's arms dropped to her side and her head fell back. Lampson couldn’t tell if she felt threatened or relieved.

    “Oh, my God. I knew this was going to happen. Did Tate spill the beans?” 

    “What does Tate Hanley have to do with this?” 

    “I didn't have anything to do with his blackmail scheme. I broke up with him when he told me about it yesterday.”

     Josh glanced at Lampson, who shrugged his shoulders. 

    “What was Tate's scheme?” asked Josh. 

    Tiffany's startled look told them she’d let the cat out of the bag and there was no turning back. Lampson approached the desk towering over the frightened Tiffany.

    “I think you better tell us, Tiffany. We're investigating a murder.”

    Tiffany sighed and placed her elbows on the desk with her head in her hands. 

    “Tate called me and said he’d caught Mr. Blaine with his girlfriend. He was overly interested in Blaine’s girlfriend, but I didn't know what he had in mind until our date later that night. That's when he told me about his scheme to blackmail Mr. Blaine so his wife wouldn't find out about the girlfriend.” 

    “Mrs. Blaine knows about his mistress,” interrupted Lampson.

    Tiffany gave Lampson a puzzled look before she continued. 

    “Well, it turns out he knew the girlfriend and he knew he could get a lot of money out of her.” 

    “Because?” asked Josh. 

    “Tate said she was an expert hacker and he knew she was the one stealing from Digital Security.”

     “What was her name?” asked Lampson. 

    “He called her Maureen Hardy.”

     Josh whispered in Lampson's ear. 

    “Who in the hell is she talking about?” 

    “I'll explain in a minute,” said Lampson. “That would be Beverly Hayes, Mr. Blaine's girlfriend.” 

    Tiffany nodded.

     “Yes.”

     “If Beverly Hayes is Maureen Hardy, who is Tiffany Springer?” asked Lampson.

     Tiffany took a deep breath and looked straight at Lampson.

    “Here it is in a nutshell. My name is Nancy Coleman. I am divorced from a man who abused me. Four years ago I walked into Casey's and purchased a lottery ticket and the next morning I was a millionaire. My ex loved me, friends wanted loans, and I was badgered to death, so I invested my money, moved, and became Tiffany Springer.” 

    “Why are you working?” asked Josh. 

    “Boredom. Sitting at home drove me crazy.” 

    “Did Tate know your real name?” asked Josh. 

    “No. But, he figured out I wasn’t who I said.” 

### 

    Kelly completed the phone call for the ambulance and told the operator to notify the police. Tate held her arm in both of his hands.

    “Don't leave me,” he pleaded.

    “Tate, I need to put a compress on your wound.”

    “No.” 

    Kelly heard the ambulance in the distance, 

    “The medics are coming. Can you tell me what happened?” 

    Tate took a deep breath like he was gasping for air.

     “Ca..ca..” 

    The ambulance stopped in front of the house and she heard the sound of footsteps on the front porch.

     “Come straight down the hallway to the kitchen,” she yelled. 

    An EMT burst into the room and knelt beside Tate. 

    “What happened?” he asked, ripping open Tate's shirt.

     “I found him like this. He can't talk.”

    The medic put a stethoscope on his chest. 

    “Punctured lung.” He ran his hand through Tate’s hair. “Looks like someone whacked him in the head.” 

    Two other medics came in with a gurney. 

    “Is he ready, Hank?” 

    “Yeah. We can stabilize him in the ambulance. Lady, you need to move so we can get him on the gurney.” 

    “He won't let go of me.“

      Tate gripped Kelly's arm as the medics pushed the gurney to the ambulance. A crowd of people had gathered to watch and the flashing lights from a local television news crew shone in her face.

     ‘How fast news travels,’ she thought. 

    “Lady, it looks like you are going to the hospital with him,” said the medic. 

### 

    “We don't have any proof that this Beverly Hayes is Maureen Hardy,” said Josh.

     “You can still bring her in for questioning,” said Lampson. 

    “I wonder if Margaret can get a search warrant?” 

    Fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of the house and saw a frantic Beverly Hayes running out the front door of her house pulling a suitcase in one hand and a laptop in the other. The car in the driveway had the doors open and the trunk up. Lampson pulled up and blocked the driveway. Beverly stopped as Lampson and Josh got out of the car and approached her. 

    “We need to talk.”

 10

    The next night Josh, Kelly, and Lampson sat around his kitchen table cluttered with empty beer bottles and plates stained with spaghetti sauce. 

    “I can't believe we solved this case,” said Josh. 

    “If it hadn't been for Tate, I don't think it would have been solved. Sometimes things and events fall into place. We were lucky. Kelly finds Tate, and Beverly sees Tate on television getting into the ambulance. It was pure luck on our part that we caught her with her laptop.”

     “Have you pieced it together?” asked Josh.

     Lampson pushed away from the table and grabbed his beer. 

    “I talked to Blaine this morning, and I think he filled in some holes in the story. Here’s how I think everything played out. He confirmed that Tim Cray and he attended a meeting three years ago with a company he wouldn't name.”

     “Why not?” Kelly asked. 

    “You'll understand in a minute. This company dealt with thousands of financial transactions a day.”

     “A bank?” interrupted Kelly.

     “Kelly! He wouldn't say. They were losing money and couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. It was intermittent. No one event or transaction resulted in the loss of funds. They called in Digital Security to help find the problem and Tim Cray became involved. Blaine brought him in to look at the books. Beverly Hayes worked for the company in the IT department and was in the meetings with Digital Security.”

    “And that's how she met Blaine,” said Josh.

    “I'm sure she encouraged their relationship and the benefits. She quits her company, moves into the house Blaine bought for her, and starts milking both companies.” 

    “How did she do it?” asked Kelly. 

    Lampson turned to his daughter. 

    “They are looking at her laptop now. However she did it, it was clever.”

     Josh put his empty beer bottle on the table.

     “Tim Cray must have seen similarities between the two companies and that's when he called in Pam Cochran.”

     Lampson shrugged.

    “We can't be sure, but probably he didn't know who he could trust. He knew she was in computer science and would  leave the company soon.” 

    Kelly raised her hand.

    “So, Beverly Hayes was the one who killed Tim Cray?”

     “Don't know. We assume that is what happened but proving it will be difficult. He was hit with a stolen car.” 

    “Where did Tate come in?” Lampson shook his head.

     “Who knows? I guess he met her someplace and knew she was an experienced hacker. Maureen Hardy has a couple of outstanding warrants for computer fraud.” 

    “The medic said Tate was hit on the back of the head and then stabbed. Luckily, the knife missed everything but punctured his lung,” said Kelly. 

    “Did she follow him that morning when he shoved the envelope under her door?” 

    “I doubt it,” said Lampson. “Most likely she planned to go over to see him after she got the pictures. I did see that she called Tate later that morning. That is a slip-up on her part because she used her phone.” 

    Josh wrapped on the table with his knuckles. 

    “Let's get back to Pam.” 

    Lampson took a deep breath. 

    “Once Maureen got rid of Tim Cray, Pam was next. Blaine told us that Pam was buying a gift for his wife and afterward, she had to go home before she returned to work. Pam never made it back to work so Maureen had to get her on the way back., We don’t have any idea how she did it. She ain’t talking.” 

    “The initial report from the coroner shows Pam was struck from behind and probably stabbed. The same as Tate,” said Josh.

    “But, can we prove she killed Pam?” asked Kelly.

     “Preliminary results from examining Maureen’s car trunk indicate the presence of bloodstains. Maureen did a good job of cleaning the trunk but not in all the tiny cracks and blood on the carpet in the trunk.” 

    A broad smile crept across Kelly’s face.

    “We got her.” 

    Lampson held up his beer in a toast. 

    “We got her!” 

### 

    Shelly Cochran gave Lampson a big smile when she opened the door. 

    “This is a surprise,” she said. “Come in. To what do I owe this honor?” 

    She led him back to the sunroom where they sat across from each other. Lampson stroked his bare chin before reaching into his pocket.

    “There was something I had to do before closing the case,” he said, pulling a small plastic bag out of his pocket. “Pam's personal effects.”

    He passed the bag to her trembling hand. She reached in and held up a gold cross and chain. 

    “I gave her this when she graduated from college. I was so proud.” Her hands fell to her lap. “Thank you.”

    “You’re welcome. I wanted to bring her personal effects to you myself.” 

    She placed the bag and cross on the coffee table. 

    “Are you on duty?” she asked. 

    Lampson clasped his hands together. 

    “This case is over and I won't be on duty until they assign me another.” 

    “I see you shaved.” 

    Lampson smiled. 

    “My daughter said it looked like I had a dirty chin.” 

    Shelly nodded in silent agreement. 

    “Would you join me in a glass of wine? To celebrate.” 

    “I’d be delighted.” 

    THE END