Death Comes to Main Street (The Paul Monroe Mysteries Book 3)

by Felice Stevens

  “Okay, big shot,” Rob said. “You heard the prosecutor. We’re gonna leave you here to talk. The door locks, so just use the phone on the wall and an officer will let you out.”

  Paul didn’t say anything to Rob until they were seated at their desks. At an empty desk several seats down, Trish sat speaking quietly into the phone, likely to the DA about the potential plea deal.

  Paul checked his phone. “I’m going to text Cliff and ask him to come here to talk to Trish.” He sent the text and smiled when he received a yes a while later. It would be the first time Cliff had come to the station since Paul had come out. He caught sight of O’Leary and hoped the rookie wouldn’t open his mouth again.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Cliff hadn’t been to the police station since Jerry’s murder and, as he pulled into the visitors’ parking space, he wondered, now that Paul had come out, how the people Paul worked with would respond to him.

  He entered the hive of activity and spoke to the receptionist. Rob, standing at his desk, caught his eye and leaned over to let Paul know. Paul jumped up and broke out into a big smile when they locked eyes. He hurried across the office and greeted him with a quick squeeze to the shoulder.

  “Hey, you got here pretty early.”

  “I left work early for another appointment that we’ll talk about later.”

  Paul’s brows drew together. “Oh? Okay, well, as I said in the message, we want to talk to you not only about what happened, but about a possible plea deal. The prosecutor is here as well.” They walked as they talked, and Paul pointed to a woman sitting several desks down from the area he shared with Rob. “That’s Trish Hancock.”

  “Cliff, good to see you again.” Rob shook his hand and gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Pull up a chair.”

  After taking his seat, Cliff faced Paul and Rob, who had their notebooks at the ready. “God, it’s like my worst double-teaming nightmare,” he said, and they all laughed. Trish peeked over the divider on Rob’s side of the desk.

  “Can anyone else join in on the joke?”

  “Trish, this is Cliff Baxter. Cliff, Trish Hancock, Thornwood Park’s best prosecutor and future District Attorney.”

  She grabbed a chair and sat next to Cliff. “I’m sorry about what happened. I want to talk to you about how the DA is willing to handle it.”

  Cliff appreciated her frankness. “Okay. I’m ready to hear.”

  “First, can you please tell me exactly what happened?” She sat poised with her laptop, and as soon as he began to speak, she started typing.

  He recited every fact, from the moment the door opened and he found Travis standing there to when Paul walked in. Trish stopped him a few times so she could catch up and clarify a few things. When he finished, he gazed at Paul anxiously, who gave him a nod and a thumbs-up. Rob smiled at him.

  “Great job, Cliff. You’re a great witness. I’m going to print it out now and have you read it.” Trish pulled the paper out of the printer and handed it to him.

  Cliff scanned the document and found it to be an accurate representation of what had happened, down to Judy Swanson braining Travis with the pot.

  “It’s correct.” He handed back the statement to the attorney.

  “Okay, good. Before I leave, I’ll need you to sign and date it.” Her gaze met his with frankness. “Now, as you can imagine, my boss is very interested in solving the break-ins on Main Street as well as the arson at the Wild Orchid which resulted in a fatality. And while this in no way diminishes the severity of the crime Travis Falk committed against you or how the district attorney’s office handles sex crimes, we do want to offer him a plea deal. And that would mean lowering the charge from first-degree attempted rape to third.”

  Cliff’s throat closed up, and his eyes burned with tears. He grew angry at himself for momentarily forgetting that Shelby was dead. Paul spoke before he had a chance to react.

  “Trish, that’s bullshit. He’d basically get no jail time.”

  “Paul, this is not your decision to make,” she snapped.

  Rob remained silent.

  “Can I ask you something?” Ignoring a glowering Paul, Cliff met Trish Hancock’s gaze.

  “Of course.”

  “What sentence will you be asking for on the other charges? I’m okay with reducing the jail time on my charge, but Shelby was a good friend of mine. If Travis was involved, I want him to pay for his death. He should know it isn’t okay to hate and cause someone’s death just because of who people love. Shelby was the nicest, kindest man and didn’t deserve to die.”

  Admiration shone in Trish’s eyes, and she took his hand in hers and held tight. “Don’t you worry. After I get through with them, they won’t see blue sky until you and I are old and gray.”

  Even without knowing her, Cliff trusted Trish to do the right thing. There was an honesty and a steely determination about her that made him comfortable to put his faith in her.

  “Then I’m all right with it. You do what you have to do, and put those bastards behind bars. Can I please have a pen?” He signed the statement and handed it to her.

  “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand. “Paul, you got yourself a winner. You’re a lucky man.” With quick, deft movements, she folded her papers and rose gracefully from her seat.

  “Don’t I know it,” Paul said with a grin. “And you’re sure, right? I want you to know that even if it’s a reduced charge folded into the more serious one, he’s still going to have sexual-offender status and will have to register as one.”

  “Good. And yes. I’m very satisfied, as long as Shelby’s death is vindicated.”

  “Are we going to tell Travis?” Paul asked her.

  A tiny smile lifted the corners of Trish’s mouth. “Oh, let him sit and stew. I’m going to go in there and tell him that my boss needs some persuading to even offer a deal, and it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow morning.”

  “Evil.” Rob snickered and pushed himself up. “Come on. I’ll take you to him. I’ll be right back,” he said to Paul with a tip of his head. “Cliff, I’ll see you soon.”

  “Give my love to Annabel,” Cliff said.

  “Will do.” Rob saluted and walked away.

  Cliff sat with Paul in silence for a moment.

  “She’s the best.” Paul nudged Cliff’s chair with his foot. “If anyone’s going to get the max sentence for him, it’s Trish.”

  “I don’t want him to ever go free,” Cliff blurted. “I never thought I would feel like this, but to know he had no remorse for what he did and it could’ve been so much worse if not for Ryan and Josh and the others who helped people out of the club…I want him to know it’s not okay, and it never will be, to scare or kill people because they’re gay.”

  “I know. And Trish is the one to have on our side.” Paul took his hand and squeezed it.

  “Monroe?” A deep voice clipped out from behind him, and Paul released his grip.

  “Yes, sir.” Paul stood, and because he did, Cliff followed suit. “The ADA and Rob are in with the suspect, and tomorrow we’ll be ironing out the plea deal. Lieutenant Kraft, I’d like to introduce Cliff Baxter. My partner.”

  No hesitation or attempt to stumble around it, and Cliff had never loved Paul more. His face showed the grit and determination Cliff knew Paul approached each case with.

  Kraft extended his hand. “Mr. Baxter, I believe we met during the Gregoria murder case you assisted Paul with.” His gray eyes twinkled, and his starched facade softened. “Is he trying to recruit you to the force?”

  Cliff laughed as they shook hands. “No, I’ll leave the expert detecting to Paul and his partner. I’m satisfied with my boring hotel job.”

  “Okay, but if you ever decide to change careers, I’m sure there’s a place for you in Thornwood Park PD.” His gaze turned hawklike and piercing. “I heard there was some trouble last night, but we have the perp. We’re going to do everything in our power to make sure your case receives the justice it deserves.”


  “Thank you.” He smiled at Paul, whose blue eyes glimmered with emotion. “With Paul and Rob on the case, I have no doubt it will.”

  “I agree. And now I need to get to work. Paul, if you need to leave early, feel free.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Good-bye, Mr. Baxter.” Kraft turned on his heel and left.

  Cliff hid a smile at Paul’s deference. He wasn’t used to Paul acting anything less than dominant and in control.

  “What’re you laughing at?” Paul muttered.

  “Oh, just that you turn so mild-mannered around Kraft. I’ve never seen you like that.”

  “Yeah?” Paul slipped his suit jacket on. “Let’s go home.”

  Anticipation built inside Cliff at the blaze of desire in Paul’s eyes.

  * * *

  Paul slid two lubed fingers inside Cliff, making him moan and thrash on the bed. “Oh, God.”

  “Still think I’m mild-mannered?” Paul moved his hand, thrusting his fingers inside Cliff. He moved faster, then withdrew abruptly and braced himself over Cliff. “I can’t be quiet and restrained around you.” He claimed Cliff’s mouth in a bruising, deep kiss and pushed himself into Cliff at the same time.

  “Oh, ohhh.” Cliff swallowed a gasp as Paul entered him. He locked his ankles around Paul’s waist, and Paul closed one of his large hands over Cliff’s shaft and began to pump.

  They moved as one, rocking slow at first, their hips rolling faster, and Cliff lost himself in the pure pleasure of Paul. He closed his eyes and gave all the love he’d been holding to this one man who’d occupied the hidden part of his heart, then captured all of it. His fingers slipped against Paul’s sweat-slicked skin as his climax swept him under and he came, pulsing out his release between their abdomens.

  Paul released a harsh moan and came, filling Cliff with his warmth. He stretched his long body over Cliff’s, a part of their lovemaking Cliff could never get enough of—the aftermath, when their bodies were still electric, their hearts pounding frantically in unison.

  “Have I told you lately how perfect you are?” Paul’s face was buried in the crook of his neck. Cliff smiled and kissed Paul’s chin, the part closest to him.

  “You might’ve this morning. And last night.” He chuckled.

  “I guess I’m not good at keeping secrets. Not anymore and not from you, especially.” Gingerly, Paul withdrew and dragged his fingers up and down Cliff’s naked thigh. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “You said you wanted to talk to me earlier? Before we spoke at the station.”

  Cliff’s heart began to pound, but he owed it to Paul to be as brave as he’d proved in coming out to his superior.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night, as you know.”

  Paul’s fingers halted their back and forth. “I do. It bothered me, but I wanted to give you the space to work it out in your head. I hoped you’d come to me when you were ready to talk about it.”

  Cliff pillowed his head on his arms and stared at the ceiling. “I thought I was strong and it wouldn’t affect me, you know? I refused to let it, but that all goes out the window when sleep hits and the nightmares come. Then at work, anytime anyone would open my door, I’d jump, so I knew something wasn’t right.”

  “I hate hearing this.” A muscle ticked in Paul’s jaw.

  “I know. But I told Ryan to talk to a psychologist after Shelby’s death, and it’s helping him work through the anger and pain. And so today I went to see her because of what happened to me.”

  Paul rolled on his side. “I’m glad. The force has people for us to see after a shooting or if we need support.”

  “Exactly. She said it’s a form of PTSD. That I shouldn’t try and do this alone.”

  “She’s right, and I’m here for you. Always. Anytime. I hope you know that.”

  Cliff sighed. “I do. She said that I don’t like to lean on people because of my past, because I’m used to only trusting myself. But I’m not that person anymore. I have everything I’ve ever wanted…more, in fact. I never thought I’d have you. And you’re the most important person, the most important thing in my life.”

  Paul trailed his fingers over Cliff’s jaw. “I’m glad you spoke to someone who allowed you to figure this all out. But do you think you’re going to be okay? That’s my only concern.”

  Cliff nodded. “I think so. It might take a little time, but I’m learning more about myself every day. I’m not the same person I was when we first met.”

  “I can tell you who you are. My best friend. My lover. The man I want to be with forever. I hope hearing that makes you feel better.”

  If he died at that moment, Cliff could state he knew what perfect happiness was. But he didn’t want that. He wanted months and years and forever.

  “I want that too. I need to work on admitting that needing help doesn’t make me weak or my opinions insignificant. That we need to work together on anything that affects us. I don’t mind leaning on you, and that’s a huge change for me. I never leaned on anyone.”

  Paul kissed him. “Lean on me anytime you want. I’m not going anywhere, and if I do, you’re coming with me.”

  “How about to the psychologist?” Cliff held his breath, unsure what Paul’s reaction would be.

  Paul blinked. “Is that what you need to help you?”

  Cliff nodded. “I…I think so.”

  Paul cupped his cheek. “Then that’s what I’ll do. When you need me, I’ll be there.”

  “You are real, right? I’m not gonna wake up and be all by myself?”

  Paul sat up and slapped Cliff on the ass. “No, because you need to cook me dinner. I’m starving, and you don’t want me withering away from hunger now, do you?”

  “Oh, brother. Guess the honeymoon phase is over.” He rolled off the bed, enjoying the ache of muscles from their vigorous lovemaking. “And trust me”—he ran an appreciative eye over Paul’s naked body—“you’re far from withering away.”

  “That’s our system. You cook and I eat. Works well for me.”

  “Har-har. Don’t give up the day job, Detective.” He leaned against the doorway into the bathroom. “By the way, your lieutenant was very nice today. I’m glad to see he was cordial—downright friendly, really.”

  “Kraft surprised me, I’ll admit. But then again, I don’t know what to think about people anymore. I never thought the neighbors around here would be so accepting of us for the most part, but they are.”

  “Yeah,” Cliff agreed. “I was a little apprehensive at first when I moved in, but they’ve surprised me as well. I wish there weren’t bigots like Travis and his crew, but hopefully you’ll be taking care of that soon enough.”

  “Soon enough isn’t too soon for me. Now come on. I’m getting hungrier by the minute.” Paul jumped up from the bed and chased him into the bathroom. “And not just for steak.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The next morning, Paul arrived at the station before seven thirty. Cliff had a better night but still woke up several times, and he promised Paul he’d call Dr. Hernandez and move his appointment up. Two weeks was too long as far as Paul was concerned; he felt uncomfortable leaving Cliff restless and obviously still fearful.

  Coffee in hand, Paul sat at his desk, reviewing the files on the break-ins and the Wild Orchid fire, trying to figure out the connection. How did Cartwright get Travis and his motley crew to do his dirty work? The hundred-thousand-dollar question.

  Like he’d done countless times already, Paul pulled up the video of Main Street, the night of the jewelry-store break-in, looking for something, anything, he might’ve missed. Sipping from a mega cup, he scanned the grainy footage.

  “Still nothing?” Rob sank into the chair next to him. “You had the same idea I did. Get in early to go through everything again.”

  “And again and again.” Paul sighed and took another gulp. From the top of the camera angle, two figures dressed in black crept around from the side of the
store. A few seconds later a vehicle drove past the camera. Paul blinked. “Hold up.”

  Rob was digging in a brown paper bag and pulled out a cherry Danish. Paul raised a brow. “What? It’s cherry. That’s a fruit,” Rob said with a grin. “Healthy. What’s up?” He motioned with the pastry.

  “We can now assume this is Wellie and Bear coming from inside the jewelry store.” He traced their progress from the back entrance to off-camera. “And the vehicle we see traveling along Main Street is no doubt Travis’s, even with the covered license plate. But see this? Right here in the corner of the screen?” He pointed at a figure standing by a car. “I’m more interested in this man.” Paul touched the screen. “Look and tell me what and who you see.”

  Rob set the Danish down and peered closer. “Hmm…looks like our man Cartwright.”

  “Don’t it just, though. And that car he’s standing by? Isn’t that a Mercedes? You know these fancy-ass cars better than me.”

  Rob hitched his chair closer and squinted. He nodded. “I’d bet my Danish and coffee that’s a 450SL coupe. And it’s showing a light color, so it could be silver.”

  Paul’s pulse sped up. “What if…” Paul leaned back in his chair, thinking out loud. This was his favorite part of the job, when he and Rob worked on tightening up the evidence and coming up with the resolution. “What if Cartwright was coming out of the Wild Orchid, saw these guys, and figured they’d be up for torching the club for a payment. And if they said no, he’d turn them in.”

  “Blackmail.” Rob’s eyes widened. “Damn, yeah. He could’ve followed them home—Thornwood Park isn’t busy at night—and confronted them.”

  Paul rubbed his chin. “And with the debts Cartwright was racking up, he needed that insurance money.” He picked up the phone. “Five a.m. in Las Vegas isn’t too early, is it? Let’s get those records. We’ve been waiting long enough.”

  They spoke to the heads of security at four of the biggest casinos in Las Vegas.