Protector - Laurel Dewey [48]
Jane punches the window with her fist, ignoring the fact that the skin on her knuckles and the side of her hand is peeling off due to the intense heat. Another series of explosions ricochet through the car, sending Chris and Jane backward onto the lawn. Jane looks up and sees Amy looking down at her. It takes a full minute for the life to completely drain from her eyes.
And that’s when Jane always wakes up.
Weyler rang the doorbell at the stroke of nine. There he stood on Jane’s front porch, dressed in another one of his dashing, conservative suits from Nordstrom. His trademark narrow tie was pinned discreetly with a gold-plated clip he got as a perk from Denver PBS after contributing ten dollars during one of their many pledge drives. “Good morning, Detective,” Weyler said.
“Morning, Sergeant,” Jane said, walking outside, leather satchel in hand and locking her front door.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Weyler carefully eyed Jane.
Jane, feeling his intrusive stare, focused on the door lock. “Right as rain, boss.” She spied the box of guns and toolbox from her father’s workshop on the front porch. “Could you put those in your trunk and take them to DH? Apparently the guys down there want to buy them from my father.”
Weyler collected both boxes and put them in his immaculate trunk. His black Ford Taurus was spotless. The wax job was so slick, Jane could see her reflection in the door twenty-five feet away. Weyler slid into the driver’s seat and turned to Jane. “You like Dinah Washington?”
“Sure,” she responded.
Weyler slipped a CD of Dinah Washington’s Greatest Hits into his car player. Her silk voice softly filled the car with “What A Difference A Day Makes.”
“I got this CD as part of a package deal from PBS during their last pledge drive. Five classic jazz CDs for a two hundred and fifty dollar donation to the station.”
“Gee, that’s fifty bucks a CD, boss. You sure know how to shop.”
Weyler smiled at Jane’s retort as he drove down Milwaukee and wound around the one-way streets until heading straight on University. “The Lawrence house is about four miles from your place.” Jane remained quiet, staring out the window. “Oh, I have something for you.” Weyler removed a small envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Jane. “Ron Dickson from the evidence lab asked me to give that to you.”
Jane examined the outside of the envelope. It looked like Ron’s wife’s curly-cue handwriting where it said “Detective Jane Perry.”
Stamped across the sealed flap was the word “D.A.R.E.” in bold red letters. Inside, Jane found a folded note. It was a short, cheery note from Ron’s wife, Sarah, reminding Jane of her regular contribution to the D.A.R.E. program. A self-addressed envelope was tucked around the note. Jane marveled to herself at the fact that Ron’s wife was so diligent in helping her husband take care of his charity obligations. What a sweet, sheltered life they had, she thought. Jane dug through her leather satchel for her checkbook.
“I didn’t tell Chris about bringing you to the house today,” Weyler offered.
“Why not?”
“As lead on the case, he’s a bit possessive of it. I’ll let him know about our visit after the fact. I think he’d like to solve it by next week but that’s not going to happen.”
“What about the Stover murder?” Jane brought a cigarette out from her satchel. “You’re not turning that over to cold case, are you?”
“I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t smoke in the car.”
Jane stuffed the cigarette back into the pack. “Don’t toss it to cold case, boss.”
“Let’s focus on the Lawrence murder right now.”
Jane jotted out a check for fifty dollars to D.A.R.E., put the check in the envelope and handed it to Weyler. “Did anybody follow up on the protection money trail?”
“How’s that?”
“With