“Hey.” Pete replied, staring at his computer. When he finally looked up at Isaac, he frowned. “Are you sleeping okay, Ike?”

  Isaac looked at him like that was the dumbest question in the world.

  In fact, something about it sparked a man-sized annoyance in his gut.

  “I’ve got a three-year-old with chronic nightmares about his biological parents murders and twin newborns at home, Pete. What the hell do you think?”

  “Okay, sorry. No need to get touchy. It’s just⁠—”

  “Yes, I’m aware that I look like shit. I’m running on fumes here, thank you very much. Have you talked to Lonnie yet?” Isaac asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  “Nope. Thought we’d do that together.”

  “Well, let’s get to it.”

  He stood and headed over to Lonnie’s desk.

  “By the way, I don’t think you look like shit.”

  Isaac frowned and tossed a look over his shoulder at his partner. “What?”

  “You assumed that I was going to say you look like shit,” Pete explained. “That’s not what I was going to say. I just think you look like you could use some sleep, that’s all.”

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Isaac said, unable to hide the sarcasm.

  Okay, so maybe all the sleep deprivation was making him a tad bit cranky. He needed to get a lid on that.

  “I’m sorry, Pete. I will work on the lost-sleep-induced grumpiness.”

  “No worries,” Pete said.

  “But you’ll understand it better once you and Jada start making babies.”

  “Whatever.”

  Isaac turned to Detective Lonnie Spencer. “Hey, Spence. You got a minute?”

  Lonnie looked up and smiled. “Sgt. Taylor. Vega. What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  “We understand you’re friendly with a guy named Dexter Franco? Is that right?” Isaac asked.

  Lonnie’s head jerked back in surprise, and he frowned. “Yeah, I know Dex.”

  “You tight?”

  “Yeah, well… tight-ish might be a better term. Or at least, we used to be. Back in high school I counted him as a close friend. Until he went a little off the reservation when his parents were killed our sophomore year.”

  Isaac frowned. “How’d they die?”

  “Nasty car crash,” Lonnie stated with a grimace. “Dex actually saw the paramedics pulling his parents mangled bodies out of the wreckage. He spent some time in and out of a mental ward after that and he didn’t get to graduate with our class.”

  “Oh wow,” Pete said. “That’s a shame.”

  “Yeah, it was,” Lonnie agreed. “He got his GED about a year later.”

  “What can you tell us about Franco’s connection to another classmate. A Lauren Franelli?”

  Lonnie frowned and shook his head. “Dex didn’t have a connection to Lauren. At least not back then. What does Lauren have to do with anything?”

  “She’s the victim in our case,” Pete replied.

  A gasp of shock escaped Lonnie. “Lauren Franelli’s dead? Nooo! Aww man.” He looked down at the floor, clearly saddened.

  “We’re sorry for your loss, man. We wouldn’t have blurted it out like that if we had known you were friends.” Isaac said. “Were you close?”

  Lonnie nodded. “We were friends since middle school, yeah. I got a kick lately out of following her socials. She had a pretty big influencer career going on. Fashion and fitness. She was one of those girls that every guy in school always wanted to try and get with, you know? But few had the guts to try and get past her mean girl attitude. Wow. I can’t believe it. How did she die?”

  “Stabbed. Multiple times,” Pete replied.

  “And your buddy, Dex?” Isaac asked. “He got a history of violence?”

  “No.” Lonnie shook his head. “No, as far as I know he was in the mental ward because his guardian after his parents died… um, an uncle, I think. Anyway, he thought Dex was a danger to himself. Not anyone else.”

  “When was the last time you spent any time with him?” Isaac asked.

  Lonnie grinned at him. “You know, Sarge… I’m starting to feel like you’re interrogating me.”

  “I’m sorry, Lonnie. I’m just trying to get a feel for this Dex character. He’s a suspect in Lauren Franelli’s murder. And he asked us to speak with you on his behalf.”

  “He did?”

  “He did,” Pete repeated.

  Lonnie sighed. “He shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Sergeant.”

  “It’s all right. Especially if it helps clear this mess up,” Isaac said. “So. Last time you spent any time with him?”

  “Maybe about a month ago?” Lonnie guessed. “I met up with a few high school classmates at a bar downtown. We watched a ballgame, ate some wings, had some brews. Dex was one of them.”

  “So he still hangs out with the old crowd even though he didn’t graduate with the rest of you?” Isaac asked.

  “Well, he is still our friend even though he’s had some hard times. You said he’s a suspect in Lauren’s death?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What have you got on him?” Lonnie asked.

  “He was found kneeling over her body with blood all over his hands.”

  “Yeah, but he claims that’s because he was trying to stop the bleeding,” Pete pointed out.

  Lonnie was shaking his head before they had even stopped speaking. “No, no. Dex is a little out there, for sure. But I don’t believe he would ever kill anyone. He’s actually a good guy. And he’s always loved cops. He wanted to be one for as long as I can remember. It’s one of the things he and I bonded over back in school.”

  “What if he put the moves on Ms. Franelli and she rebuffed him?” Isaac asked. “Could that set him off?”

  “Nah,” Lonnie shook his head with a small grin. “Dex would never even have the stones to try. What was he even doing there?”

  “He claims to be a private investigator now, and says that Ms. Franelli was his client,” Isaac stated. “Says she called him to come over and when he got there she was bleeding out.”

  Lonnie nodded. “Yeah, I remember him saying something about getting his P.I. license the last time I saw him. I congratulated him because it was like the closest he could come to putting on the uniform, you know?”

  Isaac nodded. He understood that part completely. If the guy wanted to be a cop but his history of doing time in a mental ward got in the way, that made sense.

  “All right. Thanks for all the information, man. We appreciate it.”

  “Sure. Hey… any chance I can see him?”

  Isaac thought about it for a second. He had no problem with Detective Spencer checking on his friend. “He’s in the cage in three.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yep.”

  They went back to their own desks and Isaac looked at Pete.

  “I’m going to look into this guy’s supposed P.I. history. Why don’t you get into the socials of both him and our vic? See what we can find.”

  “I’m on it,” Pete said turning to his computer.

  They worked the computers for about an hour, and in that time Isaac discovered that Dexter Franco’s P.I. license was valid, although fairly recent. So he may not have been at the game for very long — just six months according to the records — but he was legit. And a quick check of his financials showed that Lauren Franelli did hire him for a job, so that part was not a lie.

  Isaac also learned that Lonnie Spencer’s assertion that Dex loved cops and wanted to be one was indeed true. He saw where Dex had applied to every police department in the Greater Cleveland area and then some, but he couldn’t seem to get hired on anywhere.

  Isaac wondered if that was because the man couldn’t pass the psych evaluation or if maybe it was just the fact that he had spent time in a mental ward. Either would keep him out of the blue ranks indefinitely.

  “Well, his license is valid and Franelli did hire him for a job,” Isaac told Pete. “And apparently Spencer was telling the truth when he said that Franco wanted to be a cop. He’s been turned down by every police department, sheriff’s department, and state highway patrol department in and around the Greater Cleveland area.”

  “Well, Mr. Wannabe Cop doesn’t have much of a social media presence,” Pete replied. “Just Instagram and that’s about it. But he did post about getting his P.I. license.”

  “Hmm. And what about our victim? Anything interesting there?”

  “Only that Spencer was right once again about Franelli being some kind of fitness and fashion influencer. She’s got a million followers on Instagram alone, and she’s inching toward a million across, TikTok, and Snap Chat combined.” Pete looked up from his computer and looked at Isaac. “Man, I don’t get all this influencer stuff. Like how is that a viable career all of a sudden?”

  “I don’t know, partner.”

  “And I mean… they make big bucks, Ike. Like you wouldn’t believe. All for making videos to post on social media telling people what you think of someone else’s product or service. It’s crazy.”

  “That it is. Well, let’s go talk to our private investigator again,” Isaac suggested. “Maybe if we let him know that he’s practically one of us so we understand now⁠—”

  “Um… he’s not one of us,” Pete interrupted.

  “No. But it might help our case if he thinks he is.” Isaac stood and snatched the bag with the breakfast sandwiches from his desk. Then he went back into the break room and poured some coffee into a paper cup, grabbing a couple of sugars and creamers. He took them into interrogation room three as Pete followed.

  “Good news, Franco,” he said, setting the man’s breakfast on the table. Then he turned and opened the cage, letting Franco out. “Your P.I. license is valid and your story about Lauren Franelli hiring you for a job checks out. Have a seat.”

  “Yeah. I told you it would check out,” Dex said, taking a seat at the table.

  “So, eat some breakfast and tell us about this case you were working for Lauren,” Isaac said as he sat down across the table from him. He held up a finger. “Hold that thought.”

  He motioned to Pete, who started the video recording and stated the requisite information. Then Isaac turned back to Dex.

  “Okay, so tell us about this case you were working for Ms. Franelli.”

  Dex dumped two packets of sugar into his black coffee and took a sip. Then he looked up at them. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you. But only because Lauren is dead. Ordinarily I would never talk about my clients cases. I could be sued for that,” Dex said, unwrapping the first breakfast sandwich.

  Isaac frowned. “No you can’t.”

  Dex froze, sandwich halfway to his mouth. He set the sandwich down and looked at Isaac. “I can’t?”

  “No. It’s not like doctor patient confidentiality, or attorney client privilege. You didn’t take any kind of oath when you became a private investigator. You just passed an exam and got a license.”

  “Oh.” A look of bewilderment crossed Dex’s face before being replaced by annoyance. “Well, still. My clients business is their own and I wouldn’t feel right betraying their confidence. But since she’s been murdered, I feel an obligation to help you find her killer. So I’ll tell you why Lauren hired me.”

  Isaac sat back in his seat and waved a hand toward him. “The floor is yours.”

  Dex licked his lips. “Okay. Lauren hired me because she was being threatened.”

  “By whom?”

  “She didn’t know. She was receiving messages. Texts and phone calls. Threatening letters.”

  “What did the messages say?”

  “I know what you did back then. I know what you’re doing now. And I’m going to make you pay for all of it. Every message was a variation of that.”

  “Sounds chilling,” Pete said.

  “Lauren thought so too,” Dex said, taking a bite of his breakfast. “She was terrified. Her influencer career was finally going really well. She didn’t want anyone screwing things up for her. So she went looking for private investigators and hired me.”

  “Why didn’t she just go to the police?” Isaac asked.

  Dex shrugged a shoulder. “I never asked her that. I just took the case.”

  “All right. So you take the case. What have you found out? What did she do back then that these notes and messages were talking about?” Isaac asked.

  “I mentioned that Lauren was something of a mean girl back in school, right?” Dex asked.

  “I think you mentioned something about that, yeah,” Isaac stated.

  “As did Detective Spencer,” Pete added.

  “Okay, well…” Dex paused and took a deep breath, licking his lips again. “Back in high school, Lauren allowed someone else to take the blame for something she did. Something criminal. She never came forward. Not even when another classmate of ours was accused and convicted of her crime.”

  “What was the crime?” Isaac asked.

  “Felony theft. The clasp on a teacher’s diamond tennis bracelet broke one day in class and fell to the floor. To keep from losing it, the teacher took it off and locked it into her desk drawer. After class, Lauren broke into that desk drawer and stole the bracelet and some lose cash that was there.”

  Isaac slowly nodded and narrowed his eyes as his mind worked. “A diamond bracelet and some cash. I’m guessing the total amount stolen was somewhere in the 2 to 3 thousand dollar range? That’s a fifth degree felony. Up to a year of jail time depending on the dollar amount, and a fine of one thousand dollars.”

  “Right. Only Lauren didn’t do that time. The kid accused of the crime did.”

  Isaac nodded again. “And what about the other part? The ‘what-she’s-doing-now’ part?”

  Dex shook his head. “I don’t know. She refused to tell me that.”

  “What do you mean refused?”

  “I tried to explain to her that I needed all the information to figure out who was threatening her, but she refused to go there. She insisted that it had to be our old classmate who took the blame for her crime, got expelled, and did a year in jail. She said my job was to track him down and find out what he wanted from her.”

  “And did you?”

  Dex hesitated for the briefest of moments. “No. Not yet. But I wasn’t just taking her word for it either. I mean, I know there’s a reason she wouldn’t talk to me about what she was doing now. Probably up to her old mean girl tricks. So I was trying to find out who sent the threatening messages.”

  “And? How far have you gotten?”

  Dex shook his head. “Not very far. I haven’t been able to uncover who’s behind them because the calls and texts were all sent from a prepaid burner, and the snail mail never has a return address.”

  “Did you look into the barcode at the bottom of the envelope the letters came in?” Isaac asked. “That would at least tell you what post office it was mailed from.”

  “It would?” Surprise rattled Dex’s voice. “Seriously?”

  Isaac rolled his eyes and tried to remind himself that Dex was new at this.

  “Man, how long have you been at the P.I. game?” Pete asked.

  Dex pinked up with embarrassment. “My license is… fairly new. So, if we looked into what post office it was mailed from, would that really be important?”

  Isaac sighed. “It would at least narrow down your search field, wouldn’t it?”

  Dex nodded, clearly filing the information away for future use. “Yeah. I guess it would. Hey, thanks for the tip, man. I’m gonna remember that.”

  “You do that,” Isaac sighed. “What was the name of the kid in high school? The one who took the blame for Franelli’s theft and did her time?”

  “Jovan Wilson,” Dex replied. “He was kind of a loner who was always getting into trouble. It wasn’t a stretch to assume he was the culprit.”

  “Is he still living in the area?”

  “Um… I-I’m not sure,” Dex mumbled. “I haven’t been able to locate him.”

  Isaac studied Dexter Franco’s eyes knowing the man had just blatantly lied to him. But that was all right. He would let him keep his little secret. Isaac didn’t need it.

  “Hey, did you talk to Lonnie Spencer by any chance?” Dex asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

  “We did.”

  “And? He vouched for me, right?” Dex asked, looking from Isaac to Pete and back again.

  “Vouch for is a strong phrase,” Pete said.

  “He acknowledged the fact that you’re good friends,” Isaac offered. “But you understand that we can’t let you go simply because you’re friends with one of our detectives.”

  Dex finished off one egg and sausage sandwich and started unwrapping the second. “Well, I may be new to this, but I know my rights, guys. You can’t keep me for longer than twenty-four hours without charging me. You haven’t even Mirandized me or given me my phone call yet.”

  “I’m sorry, would you like to make a phone call, Mr. Franco?” Isaac asked, sounding very insincere.

  Dex looked deflated. “Are you seriously charging me with something?”

  Isaac and Pete exchanged a look.

  “It hasn’t been anywhere near twenty-four hours yet,” Isaac replied, getting to his feet and motioning for Dex to do the same. “You can finish your breakfast in the cage. Let us do a little more leg work and we’ll be back to you in an hour or so.”

  6

  Riley Hamilton’s eyes opened slowly when she felt the sensation of being watched. It would have creeped her out if it wasn’t a daily occurrence.

  She turned and stared into the face of her K9 partner, Tank, laying beside her on the bed.

  “If I installed a doggie door in the kitchen so that you could let yourself out into the backyard without having to wake me, would you promise to do your part and stop any criminals that might be stupid enough to crawl inside to steal our stuff or attempt to rape me?”

  It was a conversation they had often.

  And an idea that Riley toyed with more than she probably should since doggie doors — at least ones the size she would need for her 90 pound partner anyway — were big enough for a grown man to fit through.

 

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