Slow Kill - Michael Mcgarrity [36]
After landing, Kerney went straight to his office. Within minutes, Helen Muiz, his administrative assistant, swooped in bearing paperwork. She immediately asked about his California misadventure, currently the hottest back-channel gossip topic in the department.
In her late fifties, Helen had worked for the PD for over thirty-six years, longer than any other employee, civilian or commissioned. Stylish, witty, and a grandmother twice over, among her many duties Helen served as the lightning rod for rumors, hearsay, and prattle that circulated throughout the department, all of which came to her sooner rather than later. She dispensed with it quickly, separating fact from fiction and squelching the falsehoods.
In private, Helen dealt with Kerney as an equal, which he didn’t mind at all.
“Well, are you having an affair with a woman currently under suspicion for the murder of her husband?” Helen asked from the comfort of the chair at the side of Kerney’s desk.
Kerney tried hard to act put-upon by the accusation. Instead, he broke into a smile and laughed. “Not guilty.”
“Does your lovely wife know about this?” Helen asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“Not yet,” Kerney said.
“I shouldn’t wait too long to tell her, if I were you. Some evil person might delight in putting a nasty spin on what happened in California, and feed Sara some misinformation.”
“Who would do something like that?” Kerney asked.
“Not everyone in this department loves you as much as I do, Kevin,” Helen said with a devilish wink.
“Name these malcontents,” Kerney jokingly demanded.
Helen laughed. “And destroy my network of informants? Never.”
She handed him a number of letters on department stationery, each neatly paper clipped with file copies and addressed envelopes. “Please sign these so they can go out today.”
“Perhaps I should read them first,” Kerney said.
Helen rose to her feet. “Good idea. Do you have anything for me?”
Kerney gave her the cassette tape of his recorded notes on the Spalding affair. “Have it transcribed and ask Sergeant Pino to come see me in ten minutes.”
“As you wish,” Helen said from the doorway.
“Did you buy any horses, or were you too busy professing your innocence to the police?”
“I got four good ones,” Kerney said.
Kerney’s open office door signaled that all were free to enter without knocking. Sergeant Ramona Pino stepped inside to find Kerney reviewing and signing letters. He smiled at her and raised an index finger to signal he needed a minute to finish up.
She took a seat at the small conference table that butted against Kerney’s desk, opened her notepad, and quickly reviewed her activity log on the Spalding case to make sure she was totally up to speed for her briefing report.
Ramona had stumbled badly on a major homicide case late last summer, but that hadn’t kept the chief from approving her promotion to sergeant. Since earning the new shield, Ramona had returned Kerney’s vote of confidence by doing her best possible work.
Kerney signed the letter, tossed it in the out basket, and sat back in his swivel chair. “So, where are we?”
“According to the pharmacist here in town who filled Clifford Spalding’s prescription, his wife called to say that the pharmacy in Santa Barbara was faxing the refill information to him, and she would pick it up when it was ready, which she did. She paid by credit card. Just as a matter of interest, I queried the credit card company and got a copy of her charges for that monthly billing cycle. On that same day, twenty minutes later, she charged a bottle of expensive perfume at Kim Dean’s pharmacy.”
Kerney’s eyes glinted with pleasure at the news. He interlocked his fingers,