Free Shadow Tag (The Ray Schiller Series - Book 2) by Marjorie Doering

your own business.”
    “Absolutely. But just to set the record straight, that get-up you saw me in was job-related. I work at Lacey’s.” In apparent response to the blank look on Ray’s face, he said, “It’s a gay bar. I work there part-time—female impersonation.”
    “Well, you’re pretty damn convincing.” Ray didn’t share exactly how convincing. “This Lacey’s place… How did you—”
    “Ray, I’m sorry, I can’t stick around right now. I’ve got to run. See you later?”
    “Okay, yeah. Thanks for the pizza and gel pack,” he said, shaking his hand. “The heating pad, too.”
    “No problem.” Gerrard stepped into the hallway. “Remember…twenty minutes of cold, then twenty of heat.”
    Ray was salivating as he parked in front of the TV with the pizza. The first slice convinced Ray Bubba was Sicilian. Patti sure knew his pizzas. Checking his watch, he slipped the ice pack between the couch and his tailbone. As he brushed the last of the crust crumbs from his shirt, he checked his watch again. Nineteen minutes. Close enough. He replaced the ice pack with the heating pad.
    The soothing warmth and full stomach worked wonders, but as his eyes closed, he began another trip to the basement of Mark Haney’s hardware store on the dark wings of troubled sleep.
     

 
     
     
     
    9
     
    The following morning, Ray and Waverly sat at their desks, brainstorming. “Yeah,” Waverly said, gulping coffee from his personal mug—the one with his computer-generated mugshot on it, “I kept thinking along those conspiracy lines last night, buddy. Had me so preoccupied I didn’t finish dessert. Worried Phyllis half to death.”
    “Maybe you’re right,” Ray said. “Could be that Gaines was paid off for turning a blind eye.”
    Waverly gave him a skeptical look. “I thought you believed the kid’s story.”
    “I’m not sure what I think anymore.”
    “Okay, let me just slide over and make some room for you up here on the fence alongside me,” Waverly said. “You know, I’m confused. I thought you’d be happier now that Ed Costales is back in the lineup.”
    “I would be, but the implications bug me,” Ray said. “I’d like to believe Todd Gaines is on the up-and-up, but even though Ed Costales had every reason to want Davis dead, he’s the only one with an airtight alibi.”
    “Hey, I feel for the Gaines kid, too, but something smells fishy about this whole thing. I’m convinced Chalmers doesn’t figure into any of this. The problem is that both Gaines and Johnson claim Davis was alive after Costales left. So either it was one of them who killed Davis or Costales paid off one or both of them off to provide an alibi. Hell, maybe he even paid them do the job for him.”
    “Right,” Ray said, “but there’s a problem with that. No one knew Davis was coming back to ACC that night—not even Costales.”
    “True,” Waverly said, “but Costales might’ve seen him there and taken advantage of the opportunity.”
    “But he’d be crazy to risk bringing one, let alone two strangers in on a last-minute murder plot.”
    Waverly shoved his coffee aside. “Then that brings us back to Johnson or Gaines.”
    “Yeah.” Ray drummed his fingers on his desktop. “Johnson had a possible motive and opportunity, but we’ve got nothing solid on him unless or until we can make a connection between him and the murder weapon.”
    “That leaves us with Todd Gaines.”
    “Yeah, the kid had opportunity but nothing else—nothing we know about. Not yet, anyway.”
    “Buddy, I’ve been working this case longer than you, and I’ve already made turns down those same dead ends. Believe me, there’s no connection between Davis and Gaines.”
    “If it’s a waste of time, why let me keep going on about it?”
    Waverly looked at him with mock concern. “I’m being your sounding board. Aren’t I doing it right?”
    “Jackass.” Ray slapped a pen against his palm hard enough to feel its sting.