“Is Keith Kaye a ruffian?” CJ queried.
Mrs. Vesper considered the question seriously. “According to Audrey, Jefferson says he is and that he’s always up to no good. But no one else has said anything of the like that I know of.”
“I see,” CJ murmured, and picked up her coffee for a sip, her expression thoughtful.
“So?” Mrs. Vesper prodded as CJ set her coffee cup back down. “Were you able to interview him or will you be staying another night?”
Mac watched as CJ struggled briefly with her conscience, but finally she sighed and admitted, “No. I wasn’t able to speak to him last night. When I got to the police station he was supposedly at the fire, which is what Captain Dupree used to convince me to go help out there. He suggested I could ask him questions while I assisted in evidence collection. Which—” she added grimly “—would have been next to impossible if I didn’t want to risk missing evidence.” CJ shrugged. “But it didn’t matter anyway since he’d left the site by the time I got there.”
“Why are you investigating him?” Mac asked with curiosity.
CJ’s gaze shifted from Mrs. Vesper to him and she frowned. He was positive she was too professional to answer, so wasn’t surprised when she started to shake her head.
The moment she did, though, Mrs. Vesper explained, “Because a month back Officer Jefferson beat the hell out of Keith and put him in the hospital with a broken arm and whatnot. Jefferson says Keith was resisting arrest and got injured in the struggle to subdue him. But Keith says Jefferson pulled him over for no reason and just went off on him and started beating him up when he challenged him about pulling him over without cause. He lodged a complaint, and said he had a witness who could back up his version of the story.”
Mac ignored the frown CJ was casting Mrs. Vesper and raised his eyebrows. “A month ago? And it took this long for the SIU to send someone here to investigate?”
“The complaint only crossed my boss’s desk two weeks ago,” CJ explained, turning her frown on him now at the implied criticism.
“Hmm,” Mrs. Vesper grunted, and then told them, “Keith lodged a complaint with the captain first, but when the boy realized the captain wouldn’t do anything about it, he did some research, found out about the Special Investigation Unit, and sent his complaint to them.”
“Did he?” CJ murmured with interest, and judging by her expression, the fact that the captain hadn’t passed on the complaint was a bad thing.
When Mrs. Vesper nodded in response to her question, CJ frowned.
“So, your boss assigned it to you two weeks ago and you are just now getting around to speaking to him?” Mac had no doubt the question would piss her off, but he also knew the truth of the matter. However, he knew it from reading both Mrs. Dupree’s and Simpson’s minds, and he wanted her to say it out loud because she would never believe that Simpson had told him all of what he already knew. He didn’t want to slip up later and say something in conversation that might have her questioning the source of his knowledge.
“He assigned it to me and I called and talked to Keith Kaye right away to set up an appointment,” she assured him grimly. “But Keith ended up telling me his version of events over the phone. I still plan to see him in person, but it isn’t really necessary until I talk to Jefferson,” she explained. “Only Officer Jefferson wouldn’t even take my calls when I phoned his cell. When I called his home, his wife always answered and claimed he was out, and I wasn’t getting anywhere with the police station either. I would call and they’d say he was unavailable.”
CJ heaved out an irritated breath just at the memory of the runaround she’d been given, and then said, “In the end, I resorted to calling Dupree, but it didn’t get much better. He hemmed and hawed and put off setting up an appointment at first. When he finally agreed to one, it was canceled the day before, rescheduled, and then canceled again. I had to resort to threats at that point to make them cooperate.”
“What kind of threats?” Mac asked with interest.
“I said that if Officer Jefferson wasn’t going to talk to me, I’d just have to base my evaluation of the case solely on Keith Kaye’s statement and that wouldn’t go well for Jefferson,” she told him with a slow, satisfied smile. “That’s when last night’s appointment was finally set up. I suspect the captain suggested midnight on Friday night in the hopes that I’d refuse and he couldn’t be blamed for another delay.”
“But you said yes,” Mac said with a slow smile of his own.
CJ nodded. “I didn’t care when it was. I live alone and am not a partier. It doesn’t bother me to work at midnight on a Friday, so I said yes.” She shrugged. “Of course, I got here to find Jefferson was out at a fire, and then got to the fire to find he’d left for another call, so I still haven’t had the interview.”
“What are you going to do?” Mac asked at once.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I know you probably have a plan. You are not just going to return home and try calling to arrange another appointment and go through that nonsense again.”
CJ smiled faintly at his certainty, but nodded. “You’re right. I’m not.”
“So? What are you going to do?”
CJ hesitated, but then admitted, “I got the captain to agree to make Jefferson available for a 3 p.m. meeting today. But I found out Jefferson’s work schedule from Simpson, so if the captain and Jefferson find a way to weasel out of this afternoon’s appointment, I’m going to follow him around and hound Jefferson until he speaks to me.”
Mac’s eyebrows rose. “The kid just told you Jefferson’s shifts?”
“Well, I didn’t ask him outright,” she admitted. “I asked if he and Jefferson are always partnered up, and he said not always, they usually ride alone. But they worked the same shifts, so if partners were needed, they were often put together.”
“And then you asked Simpson what his hours were,” Mac guessed with amusement.
CJ nodded. “I left the subject alone for a while, but then, yes, I asked him about his hours—if they were swing shifts, or if he was always on evenings. When the shift would change again and so on.” She shrugged. “I’ll use that to my advantage if I have to.”
Mac nodded, but was thinking he should take control of Jefferson and make the man more cooperative for CJ. His very next thought was that he shouldn’t. CJ would no doubt leave town the moment she’d finished her interviews. The longer Jefferson delayed, the longer she would stay, and Mac wanted her to stay. He couldn’t woo her if she wasn’t here . . . unless he followed her back to Mississauga or wherever she lived.
His thoughts were distracted when the sound of an engine caught his ear and movement outside the kitchen window over the sink caught his eye. That window overlooked the driveway that ran along the side of the house, and the movement that had drawn his attention was a large RV . . . one he recognized by the design on the side. Mac was on his feet at once.
“What on earth is that?” Mrs. Vesper gasped with surprise as she too looked out the window.
“My delivery,” Mac announced to reassure the women as he headed out of the kitchen.
Eight
By the time he stepped out onto Mrs. Vesper’s back porch Mac’s tongue was practically tingling at the thought of the blood he hoped to soon be consuming. He watched as the RV lumbered into view and parked next to the police car. It now completely blocked Dandridge’s view of the house, he noted, and wasn’t surprised to hear the man shout out an angry protest from the other side of the large vehicle.
“That is not a courier truck.”
Mac had been about to start down the porch steps to approach the RV, but paused when CJ suddenly spoke and gripped his arm to stop him. Tamping down at the impatience that wanted to claim him, he turned to offer what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “No. That’s my aunt and uncle’s RV. They must have offered to bring me what I needed, which explains why it’s taken so long,” he added dryly. “My aunt is late to everything.”
“I resent that, Macon Argeneau.”
He and CJ both turned to stare at the woman standing in the now open side door of the RV. With long auburn hair, and a wide smile, Marguerite was beautiful, even with a stomach big enough that she could have had a beach ball under the pale blue sundress she was wearing, Mac thought with amusement as the woman waited for the RV steps to finish dropping into place and then gingerly descended them.
“The only reason it has taken so long to get here is because you did not bother to tell Bastien the address you were at, and the phone you called from showed Private Caller so he couldn’t call back to get the address from you,” the very pregnant woman announced with a hint of exasperation as she crossed the backyard to the stairs. “Julius and I have been hanging about for hours while Bastien tried to sort out where you were. It was not until we went to the police station here in Sandford that we were able to find out that you were at the local bed-and-breakfast and get the address.”
“Marguerite?”
Mac had opened his mouth to respond to his aunt, but stopped and turned sharply to CJ when she said her name. He hadn’t introduced them yet, or mentioned her name. Yet, CJ apparently knew it, and judging by the growing pleasure on her face, she knew her personally as well.
“Why, CJ Cummings,” Marguerite said now, beaming at the younger woman and hurrying awkwardly up the stairs to hug her. “How delightful to find you here.” Pulling back, she then grinned at Mac as she admitted, “Although I had a feeling we’d meet here in Sandford.”
Mac’s gaze immediately narrowed on his aunt.
“Why would you think we’d meet here?” CJ asked with obvious surprise. “I live in Mississauga and told you that when we were on Pelee Island.”
“Ah,” Mac breathed as his conversation with his cousin, Bastien, ran through his mind. “Did Mom suggest you rent a house in Sandford?” “What? No. She suggested I look for a house or cottage on Pelee Island,” he’d answered with surprise, and then had asked, “Why would you ask that?” “Oh, it is just that she has a tendency to hook up immortals with their life mates lately, and I wondered— Never mind,” Bastien had interrupted himself. “Obviously she had nothing to do with it this time.”