CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Haddie raised her eyebrows, looking at the phone as she hung up with Andrea. ‘Good work,’ she’d said. After a week of trying and failing to get some help for Mel, at least her boss appreciated the effort.

She dialed the office and punched in Grace’s extension. Behind her, in the woods, the ducks sounded happy.

“Andrea Simmons Law Firm. Grace speaking.” Grace often worked this late, but tonight she waited on Haddie.

“It’s Haddie. No show yet on our informant. I’m going to give it a few more minutes, but Andrea said you received the police report on Zannetti’s mugging and death.”

“Yes. It’s loaded up on the network.” Keys typed in the background. “You’re just standing there, in the dark, in that park, aren’t you?”

“Like the fool I am.” Haddie shrugged.

“Let me pull it up. Stay on the phone with me and I’ll walk you through the relevant parts. You are crazy.” Grace didn’t sound as stressed as she had been the past few days.

“Thanks.” Being on the phone added some illusion of security.

Haddie stood at the edge of one of the cones of light shed by the lamps on the bike trail. The smoker had climbed back into his front seat, but both doors were still open. Lights in the apartments across the street and streetlamps had begun to glow. It seemed like night, though the east sky still showed blue.

“Should have sent Josh. No one wants to be near that boy,” Grace mumbled as keyboard and mouse clicked.

“Thanks, Grace.”

“Yeah. Here it is.” Grace cleared her throat. “Victim: Marino Zannetti. American. Born 1971, Tiffin, Ohio. Last known address: 5210 Elk Ridge Drive, Eugene, Oregon, 97402.” Grace hummed. “Body found in the rear of Picc-A-Dilly Flea Market, 796 West 13th Avenue, Eugene, Oregon, 97402.”

That was clear across town. Haddie frowned, staring at the grass.

“Wife confirmed victim’s gold wedding ring and Omega watch were missing from belongings. No wallet found at scene. Unknown contents of wallet.”

Grace paused, as if picking out relevant parts of the report. “Two gunshot wounds, one to the chest, through the heart, and the second to the side of the head, believed fired after the victim fell.”

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A shot to the head after the man likely had been killed sounded more like an assassination than a mugging.

“Two 357 hollow-point rounds recovered during autopsy. Shells not found on scene.” Grace hummed. “The initial call to 911 placed by Savira Maita. Security guard on duty. Shots fired. Awaited squad at gate. Four other reports of gunfire called in. Neighboring residents on West 16th Avenue were interviewed; noises attributed to fireworks or car backfire.” Grace paused, leaving Haddie in silence. “Patrolmen Clarke and Jones arrived on scene at 2:16am. Detective Cooper arrived at 2:25am.”

Haddie interrupted, “Wait. Detective Cooper?”

“His department, right? He’s probably the lead on a lot of murder cases.”

Or Detective Cooper had other motives when it came to keeping Haddie ‘inside the lines.’ How did he arrive so quickly? If this case did relate to organized crime, crooked cops could be part of it. The sudden appearance of tinted SUVs could be tied to her investigation. Initially, she’d feared they were related to the dogfighting ring. Haddie spun toward the lot. The Blazer, without tinted windows, was the only SUV in the lot. The more distant cars she couldn’t see well enough to determine if they were tinted. The smoker sat in his front seat, both doors still open.

“You want me to continue?” Grace asked.

“Please, sorry.” Haddie grimaced.

“Assumed mugging, though victim’s car found in 163 East 12th Avenue parking lot. Unable to determine victim’s whereabouts after wife, Cynthia Zannetti, went to bed at 11pm.”

“That’s across town, near Mark Colman’s office.”

“And, you can’t get near Picc-A-Dilly at night without getting shot. Unless he was robbing the place.” Grace snorted. “It sounds unusual, but I don’t know how this is going to help you.”

Haddie tilted her head and absently wrapped her fingers around her hair. How did this help, other than looking like a mob hit? Detective Cooper? She couldn’t start investigating him. But, what were the odds that he investigated the deaths of the two people who owned import companies at a false address in Portland?

“Does it state Zannetti’s occupation?”

“Accountant.” Grace replied.

Haddie could look into Zannetti’s finances, but even if they looked like Mark Colman’s, would that get her anywhere? All she’d done was substantiate her own concerns over this shady import business with a fake address. It didn’t help. Not yet.

“Nothing unexpected in the coroner’s brief. It doesn’t look like they had any real forensics done at the scene.” Grace trailed off.

A gust ripped fall leaves from the trees in a torrent. What felt like a raindrop nicked off Haddie’s jacket. “Alright. Thanks, Grace. I’m going to leave now. It’s got to be half past by now.”

“5:33.”

“Then I’m out of here. I’ll call Andrea when I get home.” Haddie shivered and headed across the grass toward her Fat Boy. “Thanks again.”

“Stay safe.” Grace’s connection cut out.

Haddie tucked her phone into her jacket pocket and zipped up the last bit to her neck. Leaves floated about her like snow dotting the grass with brown and yellow. The smoker stepped out without glancing her way and leaned into his back seat again.

Far down past the end of the lot, a door opened in the community center and yellow rectangle framed someone leaving.

She’d done what she could. Disappointing. Evidence supplying Mel with an alibi would have put the whole case on track, possibly gotten the DA to back down before trial. Haddie had burned through most of her solid leads. They still waited for two videos that might catch Mel’s car parked, where she supposedly never left. The ATM had been a bust, blocked by a truck. She still favored Mark Colman’s shady dealings, but where else could she look? The vineyard?

The smoker still had his butt sticking out of his door when she pulled her keys out and approached her bike. She’d be happy to get home, warm, and out of her work clothes.