Murder in City Hall Read online

  Murder in City Hall

  Mary Jane Russell

  Murder in City Hall

  © 2010 by Mary Jane Russell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  ISBN 10: 1-935216-13-9

  ISBN 13: 978-1-935216-13-1

  First Printing: 2010

  This Trade Paperback Is Published By

  Intaglio Publications

  Walker, LA USA

  www.intagliopub.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  _______________________________________________

  Credits

  Executive Editor: Tara Young

  Cover design by Tiger Graphics

  Dedication

  For the city of Lynchburg, Virginia—my hometown and former employer—and for the seldom recognized women who work behind the scenes in local government. Peggy, Melissa, Curly, Debbie, Stephanie, Annette, and Ricarda—you guys made it bearable

  And for my beloved Dolly Louise—may her paws rest in peace—who purred me through half of my city hall years.

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to the men who helped me enter their world of engineering, local government, and economic development—Lee Cobb, Fred Armstrong, Charlie Evans, Jim Amos, Greg Poff, Tom Wilson, Bob Torian, and posthumously Charlie Parker, Ed Moyers, Harry Cumby, and Terry Reid.

  Repeated thanks to Sheri Payton and Kate Sweeney at Intaglio Publications; and my editor, Tara Young.

  And, as always, I’m indebted to Joyce M. Coleman for her unfailing encouragement of my attempt at writing and her door that was always open to me at city hall.

  PROLOGUE

  Molly Hamilton felt as though she was forcing one foot in front of the other. She tugged at the strap of the OD messenger bag across her body until comfortable. She had parked her Jeep on the top deck of the garage at exactly 8:23 a.m. This allowed her just enough time to walk to city hall and set foot inside the front door by the prerequisite 8:30. She would only do the work required of her; she would not put any extra effort into her job—if she still had a job. She had spent most of the night convincing herself that this strategy would work, at least temporarily.

  Molly thought about Chris as she began the three-block walk up and over the hill sitting above the center of downtown; they would weather this. Molly would find another job as soon as possible. She couldn’t stay on with the city after what had happened the day before. She had finally told Jack Sampson exactly what she thought of him as a man and a boss, and it hadn’t been pretty. Molly couldn’t recall the last time she had so completely lost her temper. She had been so angry that leaving city hall and walking to the garage the previous night was a blur.

  Molly glanced down. She had also forgotten to change into her usual business casual clothes that morning—she missed her lightweight cotton sweater. She wore the faded jeans and polo shirt she had donned to take a quick walk around the neighborhood. She tugged at the sleeve of her shirt to hide the bruise on her upper right arm.

  “I’m a frickin’ mess.” She sighed as she crossed the street, then grimaced as she forgot and jammed her hand into the pocket of her jeans. She glanced at the Band-Aid on the back of her right hand. Jack’s nail had scraped her during their argument. She thought her hand would never stop bleeding. She had ruined a good pair of khakis, as well as her favorite blue sweater, by sticking her hand in her pocket before realizing what had happened.

  Molly glanced down the sloping hillside that the buildings and streets were terraced into. The ornamental pear trees were beginning to show leaves underneath the white blooms; the cherry trees showed the last of their spring pink. She glimpsed the front of city hall as she started down the long flight of spalled concrete steps connecting two east-west streets. There was a crowd milling about city hall and bright yellow tape tied between the handrails of the main entrance steps. The double doors were closed. Police and fire vehicles lined the street. Molly walked a little faster. Something must have set off the fire alarm; they might need her help with the building’s systems.

  A uniformed police officer was making his way through the crowd gathered along the sidewalk adjacent to the steps into the building. He appeared so young that he looked as though in grownup costume—the single stripe on his sleeve confirmed his line officer status. He held a notepad and wrote down everyone’s name, department, and time they left work the day before.

  Molly spotted Angela, the city attorney’s paralegal. This was one of the first times Molly didn’t feel in the mood to flirt with the buff black woman.

  Angela began talking while Molly was twenty feet away. “Windy is fit to be tied. The police have cordoned off the side streets. She can’t get to the handicapped parking spaces. She’s cruising downtown trying to get Colonel Evans on the phone to give his men permission to let her through.” Windy, aka Wyndham Perrow, had been so nicknamed in law school for her ability to talk nonstop about any subject.

  “I know she hates wasting gas in that van.” Molly glanced along the sidewalk. “I don’t see any executive staff members. We know about Windy. Where are Jack, Campbell, and Barbara?”

  Susan joined them as Molly spoke. “Barbara’s in a meeting with the school administration. We think we have budget problems.” She rolled her eyes before hugging Molly. “Hey, sweetie, I heard you had a rough day yesterday. Don’t let them get to you. We’re all behind you.”

  “How do you manage cute and perky this early?” Molly asked. “It must be a blond thing.”

  Susan punched Molly in the shoulder.

  Donna was on Susan’s heels. She had dark smudges beneath her eyes and less bounce than usual in her short brown curls. “I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking about you and how much I hate that damn Jack.” Her eyes bored into Molly’s.

  Molly didn’t envy Donna sitting outside Jack Sampson’s door all day; that was partly why Molly had waited until after normal office hours to talk to Jack the night before. It was well known among staff that neither Molly nor Jack usually left the building before 7 p.m.—Molly to work, Jack to appear to work.

  “Amen to that.” Tamika put her arm around Molly. “He’s a son of a bitch. Somebody ought to catch Jack in the parking lot and beat the crap out of him.”

  “Or worse,” Donna said softly as she looked at the young black woman. “At least you can get away with hating him outright. He needs you to operate the GIS system.”

  Tamika flashed an uncharacteristically wide grin. She was one of a handful of employees who knew the city’s geographic information system intimately.

  Molly shrugged, feeling like a referee. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about what happened. If they want to take some of this work off of me, they’re welcome to it.”

  “Yeah, just wait until they see how Eric screws it up.” Susan shook her head. “He only made it as Jack’s deputy director because you helped him with every project. He and Jack are on the way out from what I hear.”

  “City council will be telling us to go out with you and keep you happy so the work gets done properly when they figure out that boy is as empty as those big suits he likes to wear.” Angela chuckled.

  “Does anyone know why we’re out here?” Molly asked. It was way past time to change the subject.

  “I heard it’s a bomb scare,” Susan offered.

  “I’m hoping the f
iles in the attic are on fire. Spontaneous combustion is much better than the purge Windy keeps nagging me to do.” Angela raised crossed fingers.

  “I heard it’s so a certain police officer can kick a certain engineer’s butt for not taking her telephone calls last night.” Chris Miller walked up behind Molly and waited for her to turn around to continue. “I worried about you half the night until I was able to at least drive by your house and see your Jeep out front. I didn’t have time to knock on your door.”

  The other women drifted back to give the couple privacy.

  Molly and Chris complemented each other. Molly had shoulder-length chestnut hair to Chris’s chopped blond bob, green eyes to Chris’s blue, and both were fit and in their mid-thirties.

  Chris grabbed Molly by the belt. “What’s the deal with blowing off my phone calls all night? You know I had no choice about working.”

  “What’s the deal inside?”

  “Damn it, Molly.”

  “Aren’t we in enough shit because of that photograph making the rounds without adding lesbian drama to it? Damn camping trip.” Molly looked around uncomfortably, not used to being the center of attention.

  “Who the hell cares what anyone else thinks? Tell anyone who gives you grief that it’s none of their damn business who you’re in a relationship with, and if they even think about mistreating you, they’ll have a lawsuit filed against them.” Chris followed Molly as she tried to turn away from her. “Hey.” Chris touched Molly’s arm. “Talk to me.”

  Molly cringed at Chris’s touch to her bruised arm. She lowered her voice. “Yesterday was really bad. I lost it with Jack. I’m talking yelling and bitch slapping.”

  Chris blinked rapidly. “And you couldn’t tell me that last night?”

  “I should have. I’m sorry. I don’t want to have our first fight in front of everyone.” Molly looked as though she had lost her last friend.

  “How about our first making up?” Chris hugged Molly. “I was crazy with worry about you.”

  Molly wanted to tell Chris that she was not thinking clearly the night before and that she loved her. She wanted to tell Chris that true crazy was the thoughts going through her head the previous day. Molly held her breath, trying to calm down. All she could manage was to think how good it would feel to be in Chris’s arms.

  Chris’s cell phone rang. She answered it, holding her hand up to Molly to wait. Chris frowned as she ended the call. “The homicide team is activated.” She made sure no one was close enough to overhear. “There’s been a suspicious death in the building.” She inclined her head toward city hall.

  Molly gasped.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to come over last night and talk through all of this. I know it’s a bad situation. Just remember that I love you.” Chris stared meaningfully into Molly’s eyes before walking away. Chris waved at the baby-faced patrol officer.

  Molly rejoined her co-workers.

  “Tell me you didn’t just break up with that woman.” Angela put her hands on her hips.

  “Just a fight,” Molly said.

  “Dumbass,” Tamika said, offering no softening of the insult.

  Susan smacked the back of Molly’s head.

  Molly’s mind reeled. Who was dead inside the building? She knew who was missing from the sidewalk. “Thank God, you know where Windy is.”

  The others looked at her questioningly.

  “Someone’s dead in there.”

  Donna’s face lost all color.

  Molly dug in her messenger bag for her cell phone. “Answer, answer,” she chanted.

  “Hello?”

  “Jeez. Where are you?” She looked at the others and shrugged. “Eric,” she said.

  “I’m at home. Erin and Robin are sick. I don’t know if I’m nauseous from looking after them or coming down with the same crud they have. Damned stomach flu that the kids are passing around at the child care center. I really get my money’s worth there so that Robin can have time for all her precious volunteer meetings. I left a message on Jack’s voice mail and e-mail after I couldn’t reach him at home this morning as usual. What’s going on?”

  Molly watched as Tom came to the doors of city hall. The city manager stepped out on the landing and motioned everyone closer.

  “I’ll call you back.” Molly told Eric, ending the call without waiting for him to respond.

  Tom cleared his throat. “You may go home for the day. Please stay close to your contact numbers that HR has on record. Tomorrow will be business as usual. I am saddened to announce that Jack Sampson, the director of community development, is dead. I can offer no further details because of the ongoing investigation.”

  “Well, you’re likely the only one who’s sad.” Donna said it so only Molly heard her.

  Chris appeared at Molly’s side and pulled her away from the others. “Tell me that building maintenance is yanking my chain when they say there’s no way to know who’s been in this building overnight.”

  Molly felt as though in slow motion. “All they have is a list of who’s been issued a dimple key for the deadbolt. Council has been too tight to approve funds for a card reader system. I tried a sign-in notebook that no one paid any attention to. God help risk management if there’s a disaster and the building has to be evacuated.” Molly spoke by rote.

  “Or if accountability is needed.” Chris studied Molly. “Are you all right?”

  Molly shook her head. “I was in Jack’s office last night.”

  Chris stared. “What?”

  “The throwdown with Jack was last night. We had a hell of an argument. He came at me. I pushed him. He fell back and hit his head. I thought he was okay. He was still yelling and threatening me when I walked out.” Molly spoke with flat effect, as though not believing the words tumbling out of her mouth.

  Chris grabbed Molly’s arm, noticing the bruise. “Don’t say another word.”

  Molly shivered. “I must be one of the last people to see him alive.”

  Chris placed her hand over Molly’s mouth. “Careful. Say only what you know for a fact. You left him alive, right?”

  Molly nodded.

  Chris pointed to the police officer. “Tell him what time you left Jack’s office. Don’t freak when he asks you to go to the station for questioning and a statement.” Chris couldn’t shake the bad feeling that came over her as she watched Molly approach the officer. It had taken only nine months for Molly to become an integral part of her life.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Molly stared at the mound of boxes that filled the kitchen. She felt eyes on her and looked about the room until she found the source. Dolly, her Maine Coon tabby and best friend for the past eight years, was perched on top of the stack nearest to her.

  “I know. I haven’t learned a damn thing about relationships, have I?”

  Dolly stared down at her with what Molly thought of as the cat’s Lauren Bacall look as though imperious that her human needed to ask the obvious.

  “Why does a really good second date compel me to talk about renting a U-Haul and moving in together? I am such a dumbass.”

  Molly sighed. She thought she marked all the boxes with some idea of the contents. Standing in the doorway between kitchen and living room, she learned differently. Chances were she hadn’t been thinking too clearly when she packed most of her possessions. Funny how a bad breakup and needing to move as quickly as possible out of someone else’s house shot organizational skills to hell. Not to mention the distraction of the thirty-year debt she giddily committed herself to just to have someplace of her own to go.

  “Don’t worry. I think I know which of the boxes has the Science Diet in it.” She waited for Dolly to cross the stacks with delicate leaps, finally selecting the highest box in the pile farthest from the front of the house to turn around twice and settle onto for a nap. “If not, I made sure to find out that the pet store three blocks away carries it and is open late tonight.”

  Dolly ignored her.

  It was t
aking the movers two days to have Molly settled in. The three black men seemed far more concerned about her furniture than she was. She tried to tell them that yes the pieces were old but no the collection was not valuable. She had started out by searching for abandoned pieces to refinish while in her college apartment. While she lived with Sarah, she added a few more, again refinishing furniture set on the curb for refuse collection—a habit borne from her frugal upbringing that embarrassed Sarah. Lately, Molly watched craigslist for furniture or furnishings people wanted to be rid of for a fraction of the purchase price. Her greatest coup had been the acquisition of an oak rolltop desk sold by a lifelong railroad employee’s widow.

  Each piece of resurrected furniture was wrapped in plastic and separated with heavy blankets when loaded onto the moving truck. Consequently, the men unloaded the boxes last and filled the kitchen since no other furniture went into that room. They halfheartedly unloaded a few chairs before breaking the news that their shift was over; August had provided a brutal day for physical labor. For all their care with her furniture, they were unconcerned about leaving her without a bed to sleep in the first night in her new home. Molly was so tired, it didn’t matter. She unrolled her requisite sleeping bag—bought for bonfire parties with no intention of camping—in the living room near the hearth with the street light as a nightlight and felt herself cozy as she settled on the soft layers still wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Thank goodness she was moving in when the nights cooled the house enough to make the days bearable without central air conditioning.

  Molly almost didn’t miss Sarah. At least that was what she tried to convince herself. The breakup had been as much her fault as Sarah’s; it always was. Of course, Molly moved in too soon. In fact, her first hint of the mistake she was making happened on the day she moved. Molly made what she considered an innocent joke about her last girlfriend; Sarah responded by letting the screen door close on Molly’s arm. Molly accepted it as her own fault for a bad joke.