Caught Off Guard Read online

  After leaving the hotel the night before, we’d driven home and talked over what Castillo had said. His anger toward McVay was understandable, but it was also motive.

  Diane asked, “Whatever happened to this football player and the girl?”

  I said, “Eventually, they broke up. He’s engaged to an underwear model now.”

  Paulie asked, “What’s his alibi?”

  “He says he was at his team’s facility the night McVay died, which is all the way across the country. But Castillo must have thought I was clueless about football because his team was on a bye.”

  A bye was a week off from playing. Typically, players went on mini vacations for some rest and relaxation.

  “I had Toby check flights, and sure enough, Roman Castillo flew into Seattle the day McVay was murdered. He flew out on the red-eye that night.”

  I’d done the math. McVay was killed after nine in the evening, after AJ left. That left little time for Castillo to do the deed then drive the three hours north to the airport to catch a 12:53 a.m. flight out of Sea-Tac—a tight time line but not impossible. And if Castillo had taken a private flight from Oregon to Seattle, that would’ve made killing McVay even easier. But why? Why wait almost a decade to off McVay? Was it the large payout McVay was about to get? For the time being, all I could do was speculate while Toby did more digging.

  Brian said, “So the pretty boy lied.”

  “I’m not buying that shampoo he touts anymore,” Diane said. “Nope. No, sir.”

  I told Paulie, “Lockett’s going to call him as a character witness. Maybe we’ll get to the bottom of it then. But for now, I’m taking what he says about Strong and McVay with a grain of salt. I should also add that the woman in the video, Kami Bartell, has a restraining order against Castillo.”

  Diane and Brian "Oohed" simultaneously.

  I continued, “Apparently the breakup was hard on him. Three years after, Kami Bartell was granted the restraining order. And she’s renewed it every two years.”

  Paulie told Brian and Diane, “In order to renew, the person filing the order has to have reasonable fear of the defendant.”

  They "Ohhed" in response.

  We all nodded. I then chucked the ball again for Simon. He raced Paulie’s dog, Rocket, to get it.

  In the far corner, the Lab was dropping a load.

  Brian said, “I hope Mean Lady doesn’t see it.”

  Diane said, “Please let me blow the whistle this time.”

  We waited in anticipation, but much to our dismay, she saw her dog and immediately went to clean up the poop.

  We sighed with disappointment. Then a car pulled up, and a guy with a large Great Pyrenees got out. From his trunk, he took out a toddler balance bike.

  Brian said, “I can’t wait to see the dog ride that.”

  We all laughed.

  A kid no more than three climbed out of the car and pushed the bike to the gate. The dad let his dog and the kid in.

  Diane said, “Well, that’s not a good idea.”

  We all shook our heads. Too many big dogs. Too much that could go wrong. We turned our attention to the bossy ladies.

  Paulie said, “Three, two, one…”

  On cue, the Q-Beam went on, directed at the kid, who was balanced precariously on the bike.

  “Hey!” the one with the Lab shouted to the dad. “Is that a good idea? Let me answer that for you. It’s not. This is a dog park. Dogs run here and get rough. You okay if they take your kid out and run him down?” She was holding her dog by the collar.

  The dad said, “Uh…”

  Lab Lady directed her beam to the large sign that greeted dog lovers when they came into the park.

  “Nowhere on there does it say to bring your kids to play. Out you go.” She pointed her light at the gate. When the dad didn’t move, she pointed at the kid then the gate.

  “This is gold,” I said. “Though I hate admitting she’s kinda right.”

  Brian said, “Yeah, but she doesn’t have to be so bossy about it.”

  Diane said, “I’d hate to see the kid get hurt.”

  We all nodded as we watched the dad wrangle his dog and kid, constantly checking over his shoulder at the Q-Beam ladies.

  Paulie said, “She’s an ass, and the man can be responsible for his dog and kid. It’s not her place to manage the people who come into the park. People do stupid stuff every day. We ain’t the park police.”

  He turned to me. “And you—no stone unturned. You gotta talk to the broad who filed the restraining order.”

  “You think using the word broad will upset me, don’t you?” I smiled.

  He smiled back. “Does it?” An eyebrow shot up with his query.

  “Nope.”

  He said, “But talking to her bothers you, and you can’t let it.”

  “I hate to dredge up bad memories for her.”

  He smacked his lips with distaste as if I had disappointed him moments after proving myself. “I bet your pal AJ will understand when he’s behind bars—”

  I held up a hand to stop him. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll talk to her.” I knew I needed to though I dreaded it.

  He narrowed his gaze at me. “Listen to me. I know you think this list of suspects isn’t all that intimidating. You got a pastry chef, a linebacker, a rapper, and a dead trainer. But what you don’t see is that everyone but the trainer has money behind them. And money can buy all sorts of imaginable outcomes. And these people… they make money for other people, and those people have a vested interest in keeping that money coming in. You get what I’m saying?”

  “I think so. I mean, I’m taking this very seriously. My family has left town as a protective measure. I sweep my house and car two to three times a day. I’m making sure I’m not being followed.”

  Paulie scratched above his right ear. “All good things. But people with money can make you disappear, never to be found. They can make killing in a car crash look like an accident. And if you do find out who did this to McVay and that person is arrested, that don’t mean this is over. Crime bosses have run businesses from behind bars. You seeing the bigger picture?”

  I nodded and swallowed the lump of fear in my throat.

  “You need to tuck a gun in that backpack of yours—better yet, on your body—a gun that shoots bullets. And I hope you won’t be afraid to use it.”

  26

  Sunday

  Kami Bartell was a baker, a professional pastry maker who apparently worked under several well-known pastry chefs and had made a name for herself with her creative confections. But she was known as K. Bartell now, and everyone called her Kay.

  Kay was the head pastry chef on a popular TV show where people tried to recreate her food art and often failed. Though Kay wasn’t on the screen, her work was recognizable by amateur pastry chefs across the country.

  When Precious learned I was hopping a flight to California to try to meet up with Kay Bartell, she’d included herself.

  “Just in case,” she said.

  Just in case of what, I wasn’t sure.

  “Ironic, really,” Precious pointed out. “The woman who became the poster child for why we should put anti-virus ware on our computers is once again familiar in millions of households everywhere.”

  I’d done a Google search to learn more. “She rarely makes public appearances, and there aren’t any good pictures of her. The show’s website shows her wearing the white chef’s hat, but her face is down. There’s no way I’d recognize her.”

  I continued, “She did judge a show in Seattle a few weeks ago. She was the keynote speaker. And not one mention in the paper or on the competition’s website about her past.”

  Precious nodded with appreciation. “That’s good. These days, I wouldn’t be surprised if something like what she went through was used to get more people watching. Clickbait and all that.”

  “How it looks to me is like she’s really hiding from her past.”

  “Can you blame her?” Precious asked. />
  I shook my head. As a woman whose husband wasn’t legally hers, I understood embarrassment and humiliation—on a smaller scale, admittedly.

  “According to this press release, Kay will be a judge at a San Francisco Holiday Bake-Off. The grand prize is a cool one hundred thousand.” I shot Precious a look. “I’m in the wrong business.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve had your cookies. You didn’t miss your calling.”

  I sat back, indignant. “Hey, I make good cookies.”

  She nodded. “You do. Right out of the package. But when’s the last time you just dreamt up a cookie recipe or added to one to make it better?”

  I gave it some thought. “Never. No reason why. The one from the tube is already perfect.”

  “Bingo,” she said. “No pun intended, but cookie creation isn’t your jam.”

  “Fair point.”

  The plane landed two hours after we took off from Portland. We Ubered to the convention hall where the contest was going down. While I was doing that, Lockett was working with Toby on verifying who’d leaked the fact that McVay was looking for a contract elsewhere. From what Toby had found in articles, we believed the leak came from the new agent, Nick Hutton. After my chat with Kay Bartell, I would have to tackle Castillo’s lie of an alibi and try to trace his whereabouts while he’d been in Seattle.

  One hurdle at a time.

  We paid the entrance fee and spent an obscene amount of time trying to figure out how to breach security to the backstage area where the judges were sequestered. We caught a break when the security guard stationed outside the backstage doors got called away to run interference with a scuffle over a giveaway down at the KitchenAid booth.

  I jerked Precious by the arm—she was watching the two ladies scream it out over a mixer—and pulled her through the door seconds after the guard turned his back.

  Behind the scenes was a maze of hallways and empty rooms. We wandered around until we found a row of rooms set up as waiting spaces for the judges. Some doors were open and some closed. That was going to make things awkward if we had to knock and see who was behind the door.

  But we got lucky. When I peeked into the third open door, Kami Bartell and another woman were sitting at a table talking, papers between them.

  I cleared my throat to announce us. When they both looked my way, I said, “Hi, my name is Samantha True. This is my friend Erika Shurmann. You’re Kami Bartell, aren’t you?”

  The color drained from Bartell’s face. “My name is Kay.”

  I put a hand over my heart, horrified by my mistake—not the best foot to start out on. “I’m so sorry. Of course you are. Again, I apologize for approaching you this way. I tried calling the show and your agent, but I have some questions for you, and time is of importance.”

  Her silence prompted me to continue.

  “I work for the defense of AJ Gunn. You may know his name. He is currently being charged with murdering Keith McVay.”

  Kay began shaking her head.

  The lady across from her reached across the table and took her hand. “Breathe, sis. Breathe.” She shot us a look of panic.

  Kay mumbled, “Nope, no, nope, no way. Make them leave. Make them leave.”

  I felt more than saw Precious back away, and I knew why. The distress on Kay’s face was nothing but pure terror and anguish.

  That’s what I feared and instantly hated about my job. No way was this woman faking her reaction to get out of talking to us. If she was, she was awesome at it. Her distress was so thick and consuming, I couldn’t help but check over my shoulder for McVay or, worse, his killer.

  I put my hand up. “I’m sorry. We’ll leave. I’m so sorry.”

  By that point, Kay had her head between her legs and was sucking in large gulps of air. The other woman was coaching her through what sounded like coping strategies.

  Precious was ahead of me as we backed away and turned to leave.

  She whispered, “I feel terrible.”

  “Me too. There’s no way I’m going to ask her anything, and I’m okay with that. Maybe Toby can find out more for us, or we can find a friend who might know more.”

  We were several doors away when a woman called out, “Excuse me.”

  I turned, and the other woman from Kay’s room was rushing toward us. I met her halfway.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  She waved off my apology. “It’s okay. You just caught us off guard. Not that you should have. When we saw that Keith had been murdered, we expected to be approached. Oddly, no one has until you.”

  Precious asked, “Is she going to be okay?”

  The woman nodded then stuck out her hand. “I’m Kallie, Kay’s sister. I’m also her personal assistant.” Kallie, like her sister, was petite, with wavy blond hair and cornflower-blue eyes.

  Precious and I reintroduced ourselves.

  Kallie said, “You came here to ask questions. I’m not sure I can answer them, but I can try.”

  I glanced at Precious, reading her body language, uncertain if I should push forward.

  Precious said, “We don’t want to make today any more awful than we already have.”

  Kallie shook her head. “Actually, you proved to my sister how well she can handle this.”

  I tried to hide my skepticism.

  Kallie smiled warmly. “In the past, she would’ve totally lost it. She’d need a sedative. She won’t need one today, and she’ll be able to judge. That’s huge.”

  I nodded. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  She shrugged. “I am, but I can’t promise anything.”

  I pulled in a steadying breath and asked, “Roman Castillo… Why does she continue with the restraining order against him?”

  Kallie’s smile wavered. “Roman’s a good guy. Well-meaning. And he loves my sister. But every time she sees him, she’s back in college, and she relives what happened to her all over again. She’s built a life by blocking out the past. Is it the healthiest? Probably not. But it’s what she can live with. And when Roman comes around, he brings all his hatred for Keith and everyone involved. And as you can see, she’s coping, but there’s still work to do. This is why she keeps the restraining order. But Roman has a hard time taking no for an answer.”

  Precious asked, “Isn’t he engaged, though?”

  Kallie nodded. “That doesn’t stop him. And I’m not trying to paint a bad picture of him. When all this happened, he stood by my sister but couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t stop the harassment, online or in person. I think that he’s still trying to make it up to her… that he feels like he let her down.”

  I could see that. When I found out that Carson was dead and we weren’t legally married, I’d seen something similar in Leo’s eyes—the need to rescue me while not being sure how. I’d also seen it in Lockett’s face and even Precious’s.

  I asked, “When all this was happening, what did the police do about it?”

  The hackers who invented the spyware were never caught. Per Toby, some speculation went around online that they were Russian, Chinese, or even American because right after the spyware crisis, a group of American college students were caught running an online con. They hacked into and stole emails from several top banks and brokerage firms, only to send the clients of those firms emails about investment opportunities and collected broker’s fees. This online con raked in hundreds of millions of dollars. And even though they were caught, many speculated that the mastermind wasn’t, that he lived abroad and the students had been lackeys. Many believed that use of spyware to invade others’ privacy was a test run performed by that team of hackers.

  Kallie shook her head. “The police are limited in what they could do. We don’t have strong privacy laws in this country that protect victims online. And the question becomes whether the issue is a civil matter or a crime. In my sister’s case, the harassment continued and even got stronger as she fought back. The more she tried to find out who was behind it, the more she was stalked.”


  “How so?”

  “Before she put the anti-virus on her computer, she’d get creepy videos of her studying or eating lunch at her desk. The message attached was ‘We see you.’”

  Chills ran down my arms. That was the same message I’d received.

  “What happened after she put the anti-virus on her computer?” I asked.

  Kallie nodded. “Yeah, that stopped the Computer Peeping Tom. But then she’d get emails with videos attached: Kay getting in her car. Kay and Roman together. That’s when she tried to, you know”—Kallie gulped—“hurt herself. After that, we moved her far away from the scene of the crime. Tried to get a fresh start. Funny, right? Moving away but taking the internet with you. A person can never truly get away from it.”

  Precious asked. “Did it stop then?”

  Kallie nodded. “Yeah, I think because we stopped pursuing it.” She pointed down the hallway behind her. “Every day, my sister lives with no justice. Every day, she’s a victim without a voice. That’s why she reacts the way she does.”

  “Who of us would be any different, having to live through what your sister did?” In typical Precious fashion, she grabbed Kallie and pulled her into a hug. “This story breaks my heart. I want you to give this hug to your sister.”

  Kallie smiled, tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  I said, “Maybe when all this is done, your sister will get some peace.”

  Kallie nodded. “Maybe.”

  “Last question,” I said. “Do you think Roman is capable of killing Keith McVay?” After hearing that story, I wasn’t sure why Roman waited as long as he did if he, in fact, did do it.

  Kallie’s eyebrows went up in thought. “Yeah, I can see Roman doing it. Heck, I can see myself doing it. But the night Keith McVay died, Roman couldn’t have done it.”

  “Why not?”

  She looked over her shoulder before answering. “Because he was in Seattle, where my sister was judging a contest. I saw him hiding among the crowd, watching her. And I later saw him at the hotel. Like he was making sure we got back okay.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Well, the judging happened at eight in the evening. The awards were handed out forty-five minutes later. We stayed for the celebration. We were back at the hotel by ten.”