Restoration
Chapter 22
Unable to hold his breath or his response any longer, Nolan pushes up on his elbows. Sorry to disappoint you and Sean, Rosalind. No, on second thought, I'm not sorry at all."
Armstrong signals the cops playing mourners to move in. "Wait!" Sean Del Monte protests. "You're making a mistake. Can't you see? I'm one of the good guys. Rosalind is trying to frame me."
Armstrong snaps his cuffs on Del Monte. "You'll have plenty of chance to plead your case, asshole."
Rosalind looks up with a radiant smile. "Go ahead and send me back to prison, Nick. I'll find a way to have my fun. I always do."
Shaking his head, Nick extends his hand to help John out of his casket. "Good job, Nolan. You should go call that doctor of yours. She's worried about you. But better get rid of the makeup first. You look like death."
John claps Armstrong on the arm. "That was the idea, wasn't it?"
"How the hell did he pass vetting?' Armstrong mutters to himself as he hunches over a background check of Del Monte. Whatever led the A.D.A. to get tangled up with Rosalind must have started early, early enough to escape notice. And there it is! They grew up in the same hometown in rural Northern California. Del Monte's family moved before he started high school, so his years as a kid went unnoticed.
There must be archived records of what was going on in Landersville while the two junior crazies were running around — newspaper clippings, something. Nick won't need them to make a case against Del Monte, or a new case against Rosalind, but he still needs to know. This is going to take coffee, lots of it. And he hopes that someone brought doughnuts.
John is drying off when his cell dings a text. At least he wasn't still in the shower. He picks up his cell and whistles. It's a message from Councilman Abbot. He thinks John's project is viable and wants to discuss it further. Abbot has time the next day, which after his charade, Nolan has off. John quickly texts his acceptance of the appointment. He should celebrate. Armstrong told him he should call Grace. But it might not be a bad idea to get dressed first.
Grace lights up almost as much as the screen of her phone when she sees the caller I.D. "John, I'm relieved to hear from you. When I heard a cop had been killed at a homeless site, it knocked me for a loop, and then when I couldn't reach you… I mean, Armstrong said you were OK, but still…"
"Grace, I'm so sorry you worried, but what we did worked. We found Rosalind's big-shot connection. He helped her pull off her torture and murders. But we have both of them now. No one else should have to go through what Lucy did."
"Of course, John, you're right," Grace acknowledges. "But it's good to hear your voice."
"Do you have to go home to take care of Oliver after your shift?" John wonders.
"No. My ex picked him up at school. They'll be together for the next couple of days."
"In that case, do you have any dinner plans?"
"Not unless you count throwing a salad together and microwaving a frozen entrée," Grace confesses.
John winces. He's nuked more freezer-burned meals than he'd like to think about. "I believe we can do better than that. Do you still like pasta? I discovered an interesting little restaurant when Harper and I busted a guy who was trying to rob the place. Can I pick you up at the hospital?"
"I don't want to leave my car there. How about my apartment, around seven-thirty?"
"It's a date. It is a real date, isn't it, Grace? I have some great non-job-related news to share."
"Yeah, John, it's a real date. Now you've got me curious, but I have to get back on duty. See you later."
"See you soon."
Grace gazes around the tiny eatery. There are only ten tables, but the aroma emanating from the kitchen is fantastic, as is the freshly baked bread she and John are sharing. "I'm almost glad someone tried to rip this place off. There's only a small sign outside. I would never have known it's here."
"When Harper and I were taking statements, the owner told me that he likes it that way," John explains. "The restaurant is family run and doesn't advertise. People find out about it strictly by word-of-mouth, but there's never an empty table, and they always know exactly how much food to order and how much staff they'll need to keep things running. I figure that they make out a lot better than a lot of bigger fancier places. Of course, it doesn't help that from what we've tasted so far, the food is to die for. Oops, given recent events, I should probably rephrase that."
"More like to live for," Grace suggests. "And what is the good news you promised me?"
"Councilman Abbot is on board with my plan to fix up houses for the homeless. I have a meeting with him tomorrow to talk about it."
Grace leans across the table to deliver an impulsive kiss. "That's great, John. And I can't imagine anyone better to figure out how to make it work than you. You understand the need, and unlike most of us, you know how to hammer a nail in straight."
"Do I detect the hint of a D.I.Y. disaster?' John inquires. "I used to fix a lot of those."
"Not a disaster, exactly. Oliver did some drawings in art class, and they're really good. I bought frames for them at the hobby store, and I was trying to put them up. But I couldn't find the studs, and my nails kept falling out of the drywall. I tried some of those anchors, but all I got was bigger holes. Then I tried tape, but it came off and took some of the paint with it. If I ever move, there goes my security deposit."
John chuckles. "I think I can find the studs and put things up for you. Your apartment's all Navajo white. It won't be hard to match. I have tools in my car, and we can run by the home center to get the paint, after dinner. It's open late and by now, everyone there knows me by name."
"I bet." Grace reaches for his hand. "But John, I didn't go out with you to get you to play Mr. Fixit."
"It's fine, Grace. I like being able to help you. And tell you what," John proposes, "I'll teach you what to do so that next time you can handle the situation like the totally capable woman you are. And you've given me an idea. People tend to care a lot more about their homes if they have some sweat equity. I'll talk to Abbot about setting up classes so that the homeless who don't have the skills they need can learn them. It might even help some of them snag decently paying jobs."
"That's a great idea, John. Maybe I should knock holes in my wall more often."
"Next time, you'll be able to fix them yourself." John quirks an eyebrow. "But you're more than welcome to think up some other reason for me to come by your place."
Grace pops a piece of Italian salami in John's mouth. "I'll work on that."
It's 2 a.m. when a police blotter article swims before Nick's exhausted eyes. After the discovery of the mangled remains of several missing pets in the woods outside Landersville, two suspects were picked up on suspicion of animal abuse. The names are withheld because the suspects are minors. "So," Nick murmurs at the screen, "they were into torture even then." There are probably sealed juvie files. If Nick can get them unsealed, he can establish a life-long partnership in crime. Any deal Del Monte made with Rosalind should be void, and the D.A. will be able to charge her with new crimes. With any luck, Rosalind Dyer will never see the light of day again, and things won't look great for Del Monte, either.
