High Risk G.K. Parks (interesting books to read for teens .TXT) 📖

“I don’t know, Liv. The next time we arrest one, you should ask.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and picked up my notepad. A lump formed in my stomach, and I regretted eating. Reaching for the phone, I dialed an unfamiliar number and waited for verification that Jonathan Gardner’s next of kin had received notification. At the moment, they were making arrangements to fly in and claim the body. We’d have to question them once they arrived, but for now, I could let them grieve in peace.

Fennel quirked an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh.” I blew out a steady breath. “Gardner’s parents should be arriving on Monday.”

“Okay.” He reached for the baseball on his desk, palming it as he thought. “You know…I wonder…”

I stopped what I was doing and stared at my partner. “Go on. The suspense might kill me.”

He scowled. “Bad choice of words, Liv.” Opening his notepad, he double-checked some facts. “Michael Tolliver had the same gaming system and game as Jonathan Gardner.”

“So? Didn’t you say you played the same game?”

“It’s probably nothing, but we said we’d have Mac run down their online teammates and verify Richard Golden’s alibi. We might as well have her check to see if they ever played together.”

“They worked together, so it’s possible. Maybe Mr. Bachelor Party downplayed their relationship.” I reached for the phone and dialed Mac’s extension. After updating her on the situation, I handed the handset to Fennel so he could give her the pertinent details.

While he did that, I dug through our records for anything on Moonlight Security, but the company was too new. They had filed the proper forms and were adequately licensed. Their employees passed the required background checks and had no previous criminal records. Another dead end, I thought, snorting when my internal voice, which sounded suspiciously like Brad, chastised me for the play on words.

“I’m cracking up,” I mumbled.

“What?” Fennel raised an eyebrow. “They sell crack?”

“No. Maybe. I’m going to check with narcotics and see if they know anything.”

“All right. I’ll drop by gangs. It’s possible someone’s been charging shop owners a protection fee, and Mr. Lee doesn’t strike me as the type who’d pay. It could be something.” He got up from his desk and went up the stairs.

After giving my computer a dirty look, I went to see if the detectives in narcotics knew anything I didn’t. But aside from the usual drug traffic in that part of town, they hadn’t heard anything. And no one had been selling dry cleaning chemicals or huffable materials on the streets.

Reassured that I wasn’t crazy and Mr. Lee was paranoid, I decided to give the dry cleaner a call to check on the progress he made taking inventory and to ask about the employees who allegedly got high at work. Our conversation was brief. None of the chemicals had been stolen.

“Are you sure nothing else is missing?”

“Everything’s here. Oh no. Wait a minute,” Mr. Lee put the phone down, and I waited for him to get back on the line, “the thief took something else.”

“What?” I asked.

“My ticket pad. It has carbon copies of everyone’s order.”

“What else? Names? Addresses?”

“Yes.”

“Credit card numbers?” I asked.

“No.”

“What about checks?”

For a moment, he sounded offended. “I don’t accept checks.”

“Okay.” Could this be about identity theft? “Are you sure no one’s account numbers were listed?”

“No. Those are run through the machine. It only lists the last four digits. Nothing else.”

“What information do you record on your ticket pad?” I thought about dry cleaning tickets I’d had in the past. But they never contained private information.

“Name, address, items to be cleaned, and phone numbers. Nothing else.” He cleared his throat. “Why would someone want that?”

“I have no idea. Are you sure it’s gone?”

“Yes, it was right here, on the counter beside the register.” Mr. Lee sounded almost frantic.

“Thank you for your help, if you remember anything else, please give me a call.”

I disconnected and went to speak to the crime scene unit to find out if the ticket pad had been bagged for evidence collection. But they hadn’t seen it. I found Ellie hunched over a table, running a lighted wand over Gardner’s bloody shirt.

“Hey,” I hoped since I worked with Brown Eyes she’d offer me the same perks, “do you mind if I look through the photos you took of Star Cleaners?”

She pointed to a camera on the table behind her. “Knock yourself out.”

I scrolled through the snapshots, but I didn’t see any order pads or dry cleaning tickets. So the killer took something else besides the money in the register. I just didn’t know why.

“Hey, Ellie, did anyone check the exterior camera feed from Star Cleaners?”

She stopped what she was doing and spun around to face me. “I’m not sure. I know Mr. Lee didn’t have any cameras posted out front, and the ones in the back were too badly damaged to give us anything. But the sarge said he was going to pull nearby traffic cams. You might want to check with him.”

“Thanks.”

On my way back upstairs, I stopped to speak to the watch commander. Nearby CCTVs saw a silver sedan drive away from Star Cleaners at 4:37 a.m. The plates had been removed and every window had an illegal tint, making it impossible to see who was inside the vehicle.

“Did you get any visuals on the suspect?” I asked.

Chambliss shook his head. “We backtracked. The car appeared in the vicinity around 3:30 a.m., but the driver parked in one of the few blind spots. And since none of the shops to the west of Star Cleaners have exterior cameras on that block, we didn’t see anyone get in or out of the vehicle. A BOLO’s been issued, and patrol