Wicked Games (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 17) Page 14

  “Yes, because Jack is an astute man who realizes that Greg can be manipulated,” Alison offered. “He clearly knows how to read people well.”

  Unfortunately, Ivy was coming to the same conclusion herself. “It’s frustrating,” she muttered, dropping to her knees so she could help Betsy. “All this is doing is making it so that Jack believes he’s right.”

  “Isn’t he?” Betsy met Ivy’s speculative gaze over the top of the box. “To be fair, you have somehow managed to end up neck-deep in this, although I’m still wondering how this all came about.”

  She wasn’t the only one. Ivy blew out an extended sigh and pulled on the box with all her might, flying backward when the box finally came free and ending up with a pile of magazines on top of her.

  “Oh, gross.” She brushed off the magazines hurriedly when she realized what they were. “Is that ... ?”

  “Porn,” Betsy confirmed, grinning. “I guess we should’ve seen that coming, huh?”

  Ivy remained baffled. “Why should we have assumed that someone would come out here to dump a box of porn? I mean ... look at this stuff.” She grabbed a nearby magazine and frowned at the image on the cover. “Is that a bear?” She turned the magazine to the side to get a better look.

  “I think it’s a Saint Bernard,” Alison countered. She’d given up the pretense of even pretending that she was working.

  “That is just ... wrong.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure the dog is just watching her,” Betsy supplied. “I mean ... it’s not as if the dog is naked.”

  Ivy made a face. “I don’t understand why this woman — and there’s no way those things are real because they look like personal flotation devices — needs a dog in her photo. It seems like it’s animal cruelty or something.”

  Betsy snorted in amusement. “It’s the Great Klondike edition,” she explained, tapping the cover. “That means there are a bunch of Canadian women doing Canadian things ... while naked.”

  Ivy remained confused. “What does the dog have to do with that?”

  Betsy shrugged, noncommittal. “Perhaps they have a lot of Saint Bernards in Canada. I mean ... it would make sense. It’s pretty cold up there.” She snagged the magazine, which Ivy gladly relinquished, and flipped to a random page. “Oh, well, look at this. There’s a horse in this one.”

  It was like a train wreck, Ivy decided. She didn’t want to look and yet she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what they need a horse for.”

  “She’s a Mountie,” Betsy said. “She’s got the hat and everything. No uniform, of course, but the horse looks as if he’s kind of in uniform because he has a tie on.”

  “That is ... horrible.”

  Tickled, Betsy let loose a low chortle. “You’re funny. I love how prudish you are even though you’re engaged to that smoking-hot detective. I mean, he’s practically sex on two legs, girl.”

  “And he’s devoted to you,” Alison added, bobbing her head knowingly. “I don’t know any woman who wouldn’t appreciate — and constantly want to talk about — the time spent with a man like that.”

  Ivy pinned her with a dark look. “I’m not talking about my sex life with you. I barely know you.”

  “How long would it take for you to trust me?” Alison asked. “I’m willing to wait. I’m on the dry spell to end all dry spells.”

  Betsy’s laugh was loud enough to draw Greg’s attention, and when she raised her hand for Alison to high-five her, Greg started in their direction.

  “Oh, great,” Ivy muttered under her breath. “He’s coming over here. Now you’ve done it.”

  Betsy straightened her shoulders and wiped the smirk off her face. “I’ve got this under control. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Ivy harbored a yacht full of doubts, but it was too late to call the older woman on the carpet. Greg had already encroached on their space.

  “What are you guys doing?” Greg demanded.

  “We had to wrestle this box of porn into submission,” Betsy replied, straight-faced despite the amusement glinting in her eyes. “It was more difficult than you might think.”

  Greg blinked several times in rapid succession. “Porn?”

  Betsy nodded, solemn. “Someone — and I’m betting it was a teenaged someone who was trying to keep his mother from finding his stash — dumped a hundred bucks’ worth of porn out here. I think it must’ve been recent, too, because the magazines aren’t even wet.”

  “Not with water anyway,” Alison said blithely.

  Ivy’s eyes opened to the size of saucers and she was horrified. “I ... they ... .” She looked to Greg, hoping beyond hope she would be able to come up with an appropriate explanation. Her head was empty, though.

  Thankfully, Greg wasn’t even looking at her. He was more interested in the porn. “Is that the Great Klondike issue?” He jerked it out of Betsy’s hands. “This is a collector’s edition. I can’t believe someone would just throw this out like trash.”

  Alison pressed her lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing. Because the woman’s reaction was so funny, Ivy had to avert her gaze for fear once she started giggling, she might never be able to stop.

  “You seem to know your stuff,” Betsy commented.

  “What?” Greg jerked his gaze away from the magazine. It took him a moment to catch up with the conversation. “Oh, don’t be a pain, Betsy.” He made a face. “I just know things because I have one of those minds that traps information.” He tapped the side of his head for emphasis. “I’m a genius.”

  Ivy could think of a few other words to describe him but opted to keep them to herself. No good would come of her being snarky now.

  “You guys can leave the magazines,” Greg said after a beat. “I’ll handle packing them up.”

  Betsy refused to hide her smirk. It was obvious she wasn’t afraid of Greg, something Ivy legitimately envied her for. “I think that’s a smashing idea.”

  Greg, although often oblivious, didn’t miss Betsy’s tone. “Only because I don’t want you chicks complaining to the higher-ups about being sexually harassed by magazines. I’m trying to be mindful of your feelings.”

  “And you’re doing a wonderful job of it,” Alison chortled, turning away from the box and moving to the east. “I’m going to head this way. I’ll let you know if we find more collector’s editions.”

  “Oh, stuff it.” Greg flipped through a few pages of the magazine and then focused on Ivy. “You need to stick close to me.”

  For a moment, Ivy was flummoxed. “You mean ... with you and the magazines?”

  He rolled his eyes in exaggerated fashion. “No, I don’t want you to have to deal with the magazines. I’ll handle them. I just don’t want you wandering too far.”

  “Oh, I feel so unloved,” Betsy intoned. “Why is Ivy your favorite?”

  “It’s not about her being my favorite,” Greg shot back. “It’s about ... you know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. If you don’t like my decisions, then take it up with my boss. I think you know what he’ll say, though.”

  “Yes, that he wants you to share the collector’s edition with him.”

  “Go!” Greg pointed in the direction Alison had headed and Betsy dutifully bowed before following. She offered up an amused wink for Ivy’s benefit before disappearing. “You need to stick close to me,” he said to Ivy when it was just the two of them. “‘Detective Harker has involved me in his case, going so far as to put me in charge of your safety.”

  Ivy was afraid of that. “Jack is a worrier. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  “I’m sure, too.” Greg was matter-of-fact. “I’ve already lost two people this go-around. If you get killed on my watch, it’s going to mean a lot more trouble ... and paperwork.”

  The statement was so absurd Ivy would’ve laughed under different circumstances. Unfortunately, she figured he meant every word he said. “Well, I don’t want you to have to do extra
paperwork. How about I stick to this general vicinity?”

  “That would be great.”

  “ARE YOU SURE HE’S HERE?”

  Jack had never been to the park Brian led him toward and he was feeling out of sorts. In the back of his head, he was familiar with the property, but only in passing.

  “That’s what the caller said,” Brian replied, his eyes narrow as he scanned the park in question.

  “But ... do you believe this caller?” Jack was bewildered as to why Marvin Martin would possibly want to come to a park that was geared toward small children.

  “It was Beverly Calhoun.”

  Jack waited for his partner to expand. When he didn’t, the younger detective prodded him. “I don’t know who that is.”

  “She runs the hair place right over there.” Brian pointed toward the business street on the other side of the park. “Don’t you ever come over here?”

  Honestly, Jack couldn’t ever remember spending time in this part of town. “This is where all the girly shops are,” he said after a beat, earning a scathing look from his partner. “What? I’m not the person who laid out this part of town. That’s on ... whoever makes those decisions.”

  “How is this the girly part of town?” Brian queried.

  Jack extended his finger and started ticking off the businesses. “Hat shop. Beauty shop. Shoe shop. And, my personal favorite, the silky robe store. No men go into those stores unless they’re forced to at gunpoint.”

  Brian wanted to argue but he sort of agreed. “Yes, well, this is also the park where the little kids play. The other park caters toward middle school and high school kids — what with the ball diamonds and basketball courts — and parents like a quiet place to bring the little ones.”

  Jack had to admit, the park was charming. There were swings, a small slide, a fort building with wooden walkways, and a trio of ducks that kids could sit on and rock back and forth.

  Brian arched an eyebrow as he regarded his partner. “Let me guess, you’re picturing yourself with a little girl. She’s got brown hair — no pink streaks at her age — and blue eyes. I bet she’s wearing one of those twirly dresses, too. You see yourself pushing her on the swings, don’t you?”

  Jack was sheepish. “Actually, I was picturing myself on the ducks.”

  “Those things are dangerous,” Brian countered. “They’re old ... and the springs are rusty.”

  “They remind me of the sort of things we had at parks when I was a kid.”

  “Yeah, they’re historic,” Brian agreed. “That’s the only reason they’re still here.” He clapped his partner on the shoulder, amused despite himself. “You and Ivy are going to be great parents.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. It’s not happening today, though. Right now we need to focus on Marvin.”

  “I don’t think he’s here,” Jack said, his eyes drifting to a bench underneath the shade of a huge Weeping Willow. “Unless ... is that him?”

  Brian followed his partner’s finger and grimly nodded. “That would be him. Let’s try not to scare him, huh? You circle around back and I’ll approach from the front. If he tries to run, it’s on you to stop him.”

  “I think I can handle that.”

  Brian was calm as he approached the disheveled man on the bench. He didn’t draw his weapon, instead holding his hands out as a show of peace. Marvin was lost in his own little world and didn’t look up until Brian was practically on top of him.

  “Are you here to arrest me?” Marvin asked blankly.

  Brian was taken aback by the man’s greeting. He expected him to fly off the handle, start proclaiming his innocence, or at least start spouting nonsense as a defense. Instead, Marvin looked tired ... and defeated.

  “That wouldn’t be my first choice.” Brian met Jack’s gaze over Marvin’s shoulder, sending a silent message, and then sat in the open spot next to the man. “Some people are concerned, Marvin.”

  “Who? Nobody has cared about me since my mother ... and she’s long gone.”

  “I thought you were raised by your grandmother.”

  If Marvin questioned why Brian knew so much about him, he didn’t show it. “My grandmother only took care of me because it was her duty.”

  Sympathy began to build inside Brian. “Did she tell you that?”

  “It was her Christian duty,” Marvin replied, bobbing his head solemnly. “She said she had to take care of me even though I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot,” Brian reassured him quickly. “You’re just ... confused. Have you ever considered letting a doctor take a look at you?”

  Marvin’s eyebrows drew together. “I’ve seen doctors before. They stick you with needles.”

  “Not that type of doctor. I’m talking about the sort of doctor who sits with you, talks, and maybe sorts out some of the voices you hear in your head.” Brian delivered the statement in such a manner there could be no argument that it wasn’t fact.

  “I’m not supposed to talk about the voices,” Marvin said on a whisper. “They’re bad. People will do things to me if they find out. The government.”

  “We won’t let that happen,” Brian promised, studying the broken man’s face. He had a hard time believing he was a killer. Stranger things had happened, though. “Did you know Sasha Carmichael?”

  Marvin tilted his head, considering. “The dead girl. You’re talking about the dead girl.”

  “I am talking about the dead girl. You mentioned her at community service yesterday.”

  “Community service?” Marvin twisted his face in such a manner Brian worried he would disappear down a mental rabbit hole and never return again. “You mean the court thing. I’m supposed to pick up garbage because I was bad.”

  “You were confused,” Brian corrected again. “We’re going to help you with that confusion. I can’t guarantee things will be perfect, but I can guarantee they’ll get better ... at least in some measure.” He licked his lips. “I need to talk to you about Sasha, though. You mentioned her to a woman you were working with yesterday.”

  “You mean the girl with the pink hair.” Marvin made a dour face. “She looks like a harlot,” he said on a whisper.

  Brian shot Jack a warning look when the taller detective made as if he was going to start in their direction. Jack’s presence might be enough to derail Marvin, and then they would have to start all over again.

  “The girl with the pink hair is a nice girl,” Brian offered.

  Marvin was suspicious. “How do you know?”

  “Because she’s the same age as my children and they used to spend a lot of time together. She’s a very good girl, with a good heart.”

  “Then how come she has to do the court thing, too?”

  It was a fair question, Brian had to silently admit. It was something he didn’t want to get into, though. “She’s misunderstood,” he replied easily. “I’m betting you’re misunderstood, too. That’s why we need to know why you were talking about the dead girl. It’s important.”

  “I ... don’t know.” Marvin stared at his ratty jeans. “I can’t remember.”

  Brian licked his lips, unsure how far he should press things. “Did you kill her?”

  “What?” Marvin’s eyes were wild — and a little indignant — when he jerked up his head. “Of course I didn’t kill her. Why would you even think that?”

  Brian held up his hands in a placating manner. “It was just a question. I’m curious. You have to understand that.”

  “I didn’t kill her.”

  “Okay.”

  “The man did.”

  Brian frowned. “A man killed her?” He exchanged a quick look with Jack, who appeared pensive but remained still. “Did you see what happened to Sasha?”

  Marvin nodded gravely. “I had to check out the spot where we were going to work. I ... they gave me the address a few days early. I went out there a couple times because I don’t like new places, especially when there’s a bunch of people aroun
d. The noises get to be too much.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” Brian meant it. He was starting to put things together in his head, and the picture that was emerging was frightening. “When you were out there getting to know the area one night, you saw something, didn’t you?”

  Marvin gnawed on his bottom lip and nodded. “I was behind the trees. I saw a girl on the road. She was running.”

  Brian’s heart did a long, slow roll, but he kept his face impassive. “Was someone chasing the girl?”

  Marvin nodded. “It was the man. The man from the court thing.”

  That was a rather vague statement, Brian rationalized. He needed him to narrow it down. “The judge?”

  Marvin shook his head, frustrated.

  “One of the men you were working with on your community service team?”

  Marvin bobbed his head. “Yes. You know which one.”

  “Jason,” Brian supplied. “It was Jason.”

  “No!” Marvin slapped his knee. Hard. “Not that guy.”

  Brian couldn’t help but worry they had somehow lost Marvin. “If not Jason, who?”

  “The other guy.” Marvin used big hand gestures. “The guy in charge. The big cheese.”

  Jack stirred. “Are you talking about Greg Decker?”

  Marvin jabbed a finger in Jack’s direction. “Yes! That’s him. The big cheese. He’s the one who hit her.”

  Jack’s mind was a whirlwind of possibilities. “Could it be?”

  “I don’t know,” Brian replied. “I mean ... it can’t hurt to question him.”

  “Yeah, that would be good.” A muscle worked in Jack’s jaw as he clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. “Especially since I left Greg in charge of Ivy today and asked him to pay special attention to her.”

  “Yeah, we should definitely talk to that guy,” Brian agreed, climbing to his feet. “Come on. We’ll drop Marvin off with the mental health services people and then go after Greg.”

  “If he’s hurt her ... .” Jack broke off, the possibility too horrible for him to give voice to.

  “She’ll be fine,” Brian promised. “We’ll make sure of it.”