Save Her Soul (Detective Josie Quinn #9)(18)
Josie remembered her own experience with the Mayor back when she had served as interim chief of police. They’d had a case where an infant had been abducted, his mother beaten. The Mayor’s husband had briefly been a person of interest. The Mayor had personally and privately requested that Josie brush his connection to the case under the carpet. Josie hadn’t agreed to it, and her relationship with the Mayor had been strained ever since. “I’ll dig up whatever I can,” she assured Chitwood.
He nodded. “Also, Palmer brought me up to speed on today’s events. I expect Dr. Feist’s autopsy will show we have a murder victim on our hands. Palmer and Quinn will take the lead on the case.”
Josie waited for him to mention her dive into the river after the tarp, but he said nothing.
“We’re headed over to see the owner of the house now,” Josie told him. “Calvin Plummer.”
Chitwood gave a pinched expression. “He’s one of those Quail Hollow Estate assholes. Not the worst of them, though. Good luck. Keep me up to speed. I’ve got to get out to the command post and assess the shitshow for the day before I see the Mayor.”
Seven
Calvin Plummer’s office was located in South Denton, which was primarily a commercial district. Squat, flat-roofed buildings sat along the main route, housing strip malls, a car rental agency, and a storage facility among other things. The residences left over had long been converted into businesses as well. Josie drove along back roads to avoid the flooding but when she went to turn onto the main road, there was water flowing across it for as far as the eye could see. Two patrol cars sat at the intersection, lights flashing. Uniformed officers in bright yellow raincoats walked up and down the road, waving cars out of the now flooded area.
“The south branch of the river must have overflowed,” Josie said. “There are a bunch of creeks down here that flow into it.” About a quarter mile down the road to the right, she could see the two-story colonial home with the sign hanging from its porch that announced: Calvin Plummer, Attorney-at-Law.
“It’s moving fast,” Gretchen said.
“You bring your waders?” Josie asked her, putting the car into park.
Gretchen smiled. “You kidding me? After this week? They’re in the back.”
They rushed out into the rain, and Josie popped open her hatch. They pulled on their waders and raincoats and set off toward Plummer’s office. The uniformed officers nodded at them as they moved through the ankle-height water. The strip of grass between the road and Plummer’s front door hadn’t yet been overrun with water, but the ground was soft beneath their feet. Just inside the open door was a small sitting area with a couch, two overstuffed chairs, and a coffee table in the center of them. A small cherry reception desk stood empty. Across from the front entrance were two doors, both open, and to the far left, a flight of stairs. A man emerged from one of the doors carrying a cardboard file box in his hands. Josie knew from the website that they were looking at Calvin Plummer. He was short and stocky with thinning gray hair and a chubby face. He wore a suit with no jacket.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This really isn’t the time. The police are evacuating us.”
Gretchen flashed her credentials at him as she and Josie approached. “We are the police.”
“Oh,” Calvin said, glancing at Gretchen’s ID. He raised a brow. “Detective? I assume this is about my property on Hempstead.”
“Yes,” Josie said, offering him her credentials as well.
He took a cursory look at her ID and shifted the box in his hands. “I’m happy to talk to you, but right now I’ve got to get these files up to the second floor before we get out of here.”
Josie looked around. The sound of a metal drawer slamming sounded from the room Calvin had just emerged from. “My secretary,” he explained. “Tammy. Now, if you don’t mind.”
He muscled past them and started up the steps.
Josie said, “We’ll help.”
Gretchen gave her a brief glare but then nodded at Plummer.
“Fine,” he said. His head bobbed in the direction of the file room. “In there. Tammy will give you some boxes.”
From outside came a hammering sound on the porch roof, as the rain picked up. The long, low howl of the South Denton fire company’s emergency alarm began. “Hurry,” Plummer told them.
Tammy was in her early twenties with long, dark hair that swished across her back as she unloaded file folders from the metal cabinets lining the room and tucked them into letter boxes. She was shorter than Josie and much curvier, her tight black dress and six-inch heels oozing more sexual energy than professionalism. She was going to have a hell of a time carrying letter boxes up and down the steps quickly in those shoes.
They introduced themselves, and Tammy handed them each a box. Plummer joined them, taking a third box. Josie and Gretchen followed him up the steps as he talked. “I’ve had that house on Hempstead for years,” he said. “A damn shame. Is Mrs. Bassett okay?”
“Yes,” Josie said. “A small bump on the head but otherwise fine. Happy to be alive.”
“She lost everything though,” Calvin muttered. At the top of the steps, they followed him left and down a long hall. On the second floor, the insistent drum of the rain was nearly a roar. “Do you know where I can reach her? I can at least return her security deposit. I definitely don’t need it now. She was always a great tenant. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find good tenants?”