CHAPTER TWELVE

In the college library, Haddie sat at one of the tables near the windows. The room had the dull murmur of whispers, shuffling papers, and laptop keys. Lunch filled her stomach and the taco sauce still warmed her tongue.

The library had tall thin windows that let in too much light during a nearly cloudless afternoon. Hints of green from trees and lawns mixed with the dull brown of the buildings outside. She’d covered the table with research books and took pictures of them with her phone as she found items that would help with her paper. The top pages of two notepads were filled with references so she could pull the paper together a few minutes before it was due. She would have to buckle down.

Mel weighed on her mind. Haddie had done what she could and finished the prep for the arraignment. Liz had alerted them that the report on the fire had gone to the DA. However, Andrea had shut her down over the radiation — as expected. Too impossible. Grace had promised to let Haddie know when they got the report from the DA.

The shady financials gave her some hope. Really the only hope. They still didn’t know what the witness saw, but it wouldn’t be good. If they could prove that there were other motives, strong motives, for the attack on Mark Colman and his wife, then Andrea might be able to cast doubt on circumstantial evidence.

Haddie’s phone vibrated under one of the open books.

Terry. He called instead of texted when he got excited. She really should let it go to voicemail and deal with it on her way to class in a couple of hours.

“Hey,” Haddie said.

“Three dead Irishmen in a London apartment. Know what they have in common?” Terry sounded too excited.

Haddie slunk down in her chair, trying to avoid being seen talking on her phone. “No. I —”

“A sunburn.” He paused, and in her mind she could see his grin. “A really bad sunburn. Lit the whole complex on fire.”

He’d found a similar case. She started to sit up and shoved herself back down. “You’re kidding?”

“And — wait for it . . .” He paused so long she felt her jaw tighten. “They were mob. Irish mob of course.”

Haddie raised her eyebrows. Could this be the link she was looking for? She took in a tight breath. “How do you know?” If Mark Colman had any organized crime connections then that would seriously jeopardize the prosecution’s case, depending on what the witness saw.

“Interpol report. It got hacked and liberated by someone inside and then scooped up before the governments deleted it. I’ll send you a copy. Does this help? Are you going to need me to testify as an expert?”

“What kind of expert?” Haddie slid lower in her chair as one of the librarians scanned the room, they seemed to hate cell phones.

“A conspiracy theory expert, of course.”

Haddie sighed, “Please, yes, send me the doc.”

“You owe me.”

“One big, overly-sweet, citrus-smelling beverage. And my gratitude.” The librarian centered her gaze on Haddie.

“I think I’ve talked them into getting me a fifty-five gallon drum of YellowYum. The woman at the counter says she doesn’t do the ordering, but that’s just a cover to avoid the salesmen.”

She tried speaking without moving her lips. “Gotta go. Thanks.” Haddie clicked off and opened up a browser, trying to look innocent.

The librarian, a middle-aged woman with an overly tight, button-down blouse, stopped and pointed to her ear and Haddie’s phone before cutting across her neck. The woman took silence seriously, at least when it came to cell phones.

Nodding, smiling, and sitting up, Haddie put her phone on the desk.

[

She had to get Andrea to do a deeper check on the victim. The police might not have taken his background seriously. You couldn’t count on their investigation to prove your client innocent. How deep had they dug?

She considered texting Andrea, but their last conversation had been short and curt. Andrea did not want wild theories. Haddie didn’t have a feel for Detective Cooper, except that he took everything seriously. Maybe he had looked into Mark Colman’s background already. Grace or Josh would not have that information, because the prosecution surely wouldn’t want it. Andrea would not appreciate duplicating the effort if the police already had that report.

Absently, Haddie found herself opening the browser on her phone and looking up the Eugene police. With a sigh, she found the number to investigations. This might be a bad idea.

The librarian glanced over, prompting Haddie to get up and walk toward the door. She would be able to see her papers through the glass and no one would want her scribbled notes, as thin as they were.

The air had a solid chill, and she could smell fresh mulch from the plant beds. In the west, a dark line of clouds barely edged the horizon. It hadn’t rained since last week.

“Detective Cooper please. Hadhira Dawson.” Haddie leaned against the alcove, risking the door being opened. “He’s expecting my call,” she lied. The phone clicked as they transferred her to his cell.

“Detective Cooper.” His tone expressed annoyance, in two words.

She kept her tone professional, but light. “Detective Cooper. Thank you for taking the call. This is Hadhira Dawson at Andrea Simmons Law Firm. I was hoping you could answer a question about Mark Colman’s background check. Did you run an FBI inquiry? Does the DA have that file?” She knew the answer to the second question was no.

He answered after a long, uncomfortable silence. “Why are you asking, Ms. Dawson? What do you expect to find?”

Haddie blew out a sigh away from the phone. He wasn’t going to answer her question directly. Or, he hadn’t run the check. “Curious to know if he has any ties to criminal organizations. His finances are not adding up. He has an import business in Portland.”

“Businessmen often have multiple businesses, Ms. Dawson.” He wasn’t budging. His tone had become less annoyed though. “Do you have anything that might lead to your — curiosity?”

She doubted he would tell her about any background check at this point. He’d turned this into an interrogation. Still, she might be able to persuade him enough that he would check, if he hadn’t. “The circumstances of the fire that led to his death are suspicious. The specifics correlate to a similar death in Britain where organized crime members were killed.” She cringed. It wouldn’t work.

He took a long time to respond, and Haddie found herself fidgeting at the door, glancing toward the warm table where her paper lay abandoned. “I don’t know what your boss is fishing for, but tell her it won’t work. Never mind, I’ll let her know myself.”

“No.” Haddie swallowed. This had been a terrible idea. “This is purely my inquiry. I’m trying to find something she can use. Impress her, you know.” Intentionally, she’d changed tone to a desperate schoolgirl, hoping to kill it before it got to Andrea. She had to follow these leads without involving her boss until she had something solid. She shouldn’t be playing at this at all.

“Not very impressive, Ms. Dawson.” The connection dropped.

She stared at her phone for a moment. Hopefully, he’d let this go and Andrea wouldn’t find out. It had been a miserable idea. She breathed in and out before opening the door back into the library. The only lead she could reasonably investigate was Mark Colman’s other business. It wouldn’t stir up trouble with the police or the prosecution, or Andrea.

Portland lay two hours north, less. She wound her hair around her fist and stared at the open books spread across the table. First, she needed to get some traction on this paper, then class. Tonight, she could look up the address for the import business. Since all the pressing work had been finished for the arraignment, Andrea might not need Haddie at the office. If the rain held off, it would be a nice ride on the Fat Boy.