Cavanaugh Stakeout (Cavanaugh Justice Book 41)

by Marie Ferrarella

  Nik succeeded in getting his attention. “What do you mean ‘maybe’?” Finn asked.

  “Well,” she began, “we have reason to believe that this victim was killed before the other two women who were found—”

  When she paused, he persisted, “Yes?”

  He wasn’t going to like this, she thought. But she couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this, too. “Who’s to say that there weren’t others before her? Others who weren’t found earlier and connected to this killer, but now that we know what we’re looking for—”

  “We can connect them,” Finn concluded.

  “You know,” Valri said, overhearing the last exchange when she walked in to check up on Nik’s progress, “for a nonprofessional, you’re pretty good, Nik.”

  Nik smiled, albeit weakly, at the woman. “I’ll thank you as soon as the drums in my head stop pounding,” she told the head of the computer crime lab.

  “I’ll look at it as an IOU,” Valri said with a laugh. “Is there anything I can do to help?” She looked from Nik to Finn, waiting for an answer.

  “I thought you said you were swamped.” Finn reminded his cousin about the excuse she had given him before he had taken Nik up on her offer to help.

  “I was—and still am,” Valri insisted, then nodded toward Nik. “But she looks like she’s in pain and I know what that feels like, so I thought I’d offer to lend a hand.”

  “Well, as it turns out,” Finn told his cousin, “Kowalski here is calling it a day.”

  But Nik wasn’t quite ready to walk away yet. “It’s early,” she protested, then stopped, uncertain. “Isn’t it?”

  “Not really,” Finn answered. “Valri just likes to stay late—”

  “I don’t like to,” Valri interrupted. “It just somehow happens.”

  “That’s called denial, little cousin,” Finn told her with a grin. “But whatever it is, I’m taking Kowalski here away from the computer screen before she goes totally blind on me. C’mon,” he said to Nik. “I’ll buy you a drink at Malone’s. You’ve definitely earned it.”

  “But I didn’t find anything,” she protested again.

  “No, but you tried,” he reminded her. “And by not finding anything, you did rule a few things out,” he told her.

  She looked at the detective. “That’ll make more sense to me when the headache finally goes away, right?”

  Finn wasn’t about to lie to her. “Maybe” was all he would commit to.

  Nik took a deep breath, trying to focus her thoughts. She made her way toward the elevator. “Just let me go and get my car.”

  This was worse than he thought. “You left your car at your apartment, remember?”

  It took her a moment to put the pieces together. “Oh, right.” She turned toward him. “Then I guess you’re driving.”

  He laughed despite himself. “I guess so,” Finn agreed.

  Chapter 14

  Devin Wilson’s face broke into a wide, welcoming smile as Nik and Finn came into Malone’s and walked up to the bar.

  “Nice to see you back again,” the bartender said. His words were directed toward Nik since Finn was considered to be a semiregular in the establishment. “What can I get you?”

  “I’d like a screwdriver, please,” Nik requested.

  “A screwdriver, huh?” Amused, the bartender exchanged looks with Finn. “I haven’t heard that one in a while. I guess there’s nothing like the classics,” he told Nik as he reached for a bottle of vodka.

  “Go heavy on the orange juice,” Nik instructed.

  The retired police officer inclined his head. “Yes, ma’am. And you?” he asked, turning toward Finn. “The usual?”

  Finn nodded. “Just a beer. Whatever you have on tap.”

  “In other words, the usual,” Devin repeated. “Why don’t you two find yourselves a table and I’ll bring your drinks over to it.”

  Finn looked skeptically at the bartender’s instructions. “We weren’t planning on staying here too long.”

  “The length of time doesn’t matter. It’s a known fact that drinks go down better at a table,” he told them with a wink. “So does the conversation. Go on,” he urged. “The place isn’t so big that I won’t be able to find you,” he promised.

  “What was that all about?” Finn said as they walked away from the bar. “That one okay with you?” he asked Nik, pointing to a table for two that was off to the side.

  “That one’s fine,” she told him. “And I think Devin thinks we want to be alone.”

  He stared at her as she led the way to the table he’d pointed out. “Why would he think that?” Finn asked, puzzled.

  She would have thought it would be obvious to the detective. “Because the last time we were here together, you gave the impression that you were restraining yourself from trying to strangle me.”

  He remembered. Finn’s mouth curved. “And now?” he asked.

  “And now you’re buying me a drink,” she pointed out. “To his bartender mind, things seemed to have definitely improved. So he’s thinking maybe we want some privacy,” she told him, looking around, “if that sort of thing can be found here.”

  Finn laughed at the idea. “It’s amazing what finding three bodies can do.”

  Devin was almost right behind them. As soon as they sat down, he was putting their drinks in front of them. “A screwdriver for the lady, domestic beer for Cavanaugh,” he said with a flourish, tucking his tray under his arm. “You two need anything else? Hamburgers? More privacy?” He was about to indicate the small back room, where occasional private parties were held.

  “A bartender who doesn’t ask questions comes to mind,” Finn answered.

  Devin looked thoughtful for a minute, then shook his head. “Not sure if they make that model. I’ll ask around, though,” he said with a semiserious expression.

  “Are you hungry?” Finn suddenly asked her. To the best of his recollection, she hadn’t had anything to eat since before she had started reviewing the surveillance footage earlier today.

  “My headache has completely wiped out my appetite,” she told him. “I’ll just finish this drink that you sprang for, then call a cab to take me home.”

  Overhearing, Devin turned around to look at Nik. “I wouldn’t trust him to drive me home, either,” he agreed, giving her a pronounced wink.

  Finn frowned at the older man. “Don’t you have a bar to tend to?”

  “Maybe you didn’t notice, but it’s slow tonight,” Devin pointed out.

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Finn answered. “That could have something to do with the bartender,” he said, giving Devin a long, penetrating look.

  “Drink up, darlin’,” Devin said, turning toward Nik. “When you’re done, I’ll call you that cab myself.”

  Taking a sip of her drink, she watched the bartender make his way back to the bar, then take a customer’s card to ring up a sale.

  Nik blinked. It hit her like a ton of bricks. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

  “Credit card!” she cried suddenly, looking up at Finn.

  He had no idea where that had come from or what she was trying to say. Taking a guess, he told her, “No, I paid for our drinks with cash.”

  Nik shook her head. He didn’t understand, she thought, and who could blame him? She hadn’t exactly made herself clear. She’d started talking when she was right in the middle of her thought.

  “No,” she said, doing her best to talk slower. “I mean we should go back to those two restaurants and that nightclub to ask if we could see their receipts from each night that a victim was found behind their premises.” She was growing excited now. This could have very real possibilities. “Don’t you see? That might give us a handle on who was there at the time. And if we find a credit card that was used in all three places, then we’ve got ourselves someone to actual
ly question!”

  Finn frowned. She was overlooking one small problem, he thought, thinking of the way he had paid. “Unless the killer paid for his tab with cash.”

  Nik sighed. Finn did make things difficult. “Please don’t rain on my parade yet. Let me bask in the sunshine of my idea for at least a couple of minutes.”

  “Hey, it might work,” he allowed. “And it’s a pretty good idea. Our killer might have slipped up.”

  “Not bad for someone using only half their brain,” she said.

  “Half?” he asked.

  “Yes. The other half is out of commission because there are these fierce little elves pounding on it with their little pointy hammers,” she reminded him.

  Finn grinned. She did have a unique way of saying things, he thought. “At least they’re not using sledgehammers.”

  “They did, but that was before you came with the aspirin,” she told him.

  He looked at the glass she was holding in her hands. “You know, if it hurts that much, maybe you shouldn’t drink,” he advised.

  She feigned surprise. “And give up the chance of having you buy me a drink? Not on your life.” She took another sip, finishing the drink that was, after all, mostly orange juice. “Besides, the aspirin you gave me did take the punch out of it.”

  “Good.” Finn drained his mug and put it down. “Okay, Kowalski, let’s get you home,” he said.

  He hadn’t had a lot to drink, but he had disposed of it quickly, she thought, hesitating. “Would I be offending you if I asked if you needed a minute to let your drink metabolize?”

  His grin was lopsided. “More than you could possibly know. Devin waters his beer down,” he told her, lowering his voice. “And even if he didn’t, it would take more than a mug—or two—to affect me. You ready?”

  Nik pushed back her chair and slowly rose to her feet. “I’m ready,” she answered.

  “Then let’s go,” he told her, leading the way out of Malone’s.

  The parking lot looked as if it was filling up when they walked outside. Finn crossed to his vehicle. There were no available spaces anymore.

  “Well, this’ll make Devin happy,” Nik commented.

  But Finn laughed, shaking his head. “No, it won’t,” he told her.

  “Why? He was just complaining about it being a slow night,” she reminded him, getting into the passenger side. She buckled up and waited for him to do the same.

  “And now he’ll complain about it being too busy for him to catch his breath. I’ve known him for a long time. Devin isn’t happy unless he’s got something to complain about,” Finn told her. “The man is a world-class complainer.”

  She tried to wrap her mind around what Finn was telling her. After a moment, she came to her own conclusion.

  “So, ultimately,” she said to Finn, “this’ll make him happy because he can complain about it.”

  Finn laughed. Putting his key into the ignition, he turned it on. “You know, in a lopsided way, I think you’re catching on, Kowalski.”

  “Could you call me Nik?” she asked him. Then, before he could make some sort of a comment or ask her why she was making things so personal, she told him, “Every time you say my last name, you make me wince.”

  He shrugged, looking back on the road. “Sure. So, for the duration—which shouldn’t be all that long—you’re ‘Nik.’”

  She’d gotten what she wanted, but now he’d raised another point and she wanted that clarified. “Why shouldn’t the duration of our association be too long?” she asked.

  “Because I’ve decided that maybe you did have a decent idea with the credit-card receipts. If there’s even one repeater in the batch, it could be our man, or at the very least, he—or she—could lead us to our man,” he said.

  He caught her satisfied smile out of the corner of his eye.

  Because the car ahead of him was going at a snail’s pace, Finn switched lanes. After passing the driver, he switched back.

  “Hopefully before another body turns up,” Nik added solemnly.

  “That goes without saying,” Finn responded with feeling.

  * * *

  The drive back to Nik’s garden apartment complex took only a little over twelve minutes. It surprised Finn how fast the trip went.

  “We’re here, Cinderella. Safe and sound,” he announced as he drove the winding path leading into the complex.

  He noticed that she sat up just a little straighter.

  “You can just let me out here,” she told him.

  Finn glanced at her. Was she serious? Apparently, judging by her expression, she was.

  “I’m not having you jump out of the car,” he told her. “I’m going to park my car and then bring you to your door.”

  Why would he want to go through all that trouble? “This is Aurora, one of the safest cities of its size in the country,” she reminded him. Something, she thought, he should already know.

  He pulled up in an empty space that was marked Guest Parking.

  “Tell that to the three women in the morgue,” he told her grimly. “Besides, this is my Cavanaugh training, take it or leave it.”

  “Cavanaugh training?” she queried.

  He nodded. “You drive a woman home, you have to bring her up to her door.”

  He was missing one crucial point. “But I’m not a date,” she reminded him.

  “Nobody said anything about ‘dates,’” he said. “The operative words here are woman and home.”

  This wasn’t a debate she was going to win. And the truth of it was, she kind of liked the idea of his walking her to her door. Maybe it was old-fashioned, but it was also rather chivalrous in her opinion.

  “All right,” she said, relenting. “I won’t argue.”

  He laughed shortly just as he opened the door on his side. “And here I was, just about ready to give up on miracles.”

  Nik eyed him before she unbuckled her seat belt. “Don’t make me regret not taking a cab,” she told the detective.

  “I’ll try hard not to,” he countered.

  Getting out of the car, he rounded the hood and came to her side just as she began to get out. He held the door open.

  “Okay, you’ve impressed me,” she said, swinging her legs out. She wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he didn’t take his eyes off them, or to the fact that there was an appreciative look in those eyes. “You can go home now,” she said, waving him away.

  “We’re not at the door yet,” Finn dutifully reminded her.

  “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? You know that you don’t have to do this. You can just sit in this space with the engine idling and watch me walk to my door.” Her apartment was located across the courtyard, but it wasn’t that far away and he could easily see it from where he was.

  “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “but that’s not the deal.” He locked his door. “Habit,” he explained when she raised an eyebrow.

  “We didn’t make a deal,” Nik told him.

  “I know.” Before she could ask what deal he was referring to then, he said, “It’s a deal I made with my mother. She insisted that all her sons make sure the women they were with were brought to their doors. Safely,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

  A word he’d used caught her attention. “All?” she repeated. “Just how many sons did your poor mother have?” Any number larger than two sounded like total chaos in her opinion.

  “Five, counting me,” he told her.

  “Five sons?” she said, marveling. She was right, that had to be absolute chaos.

  “And a daughter,” Finn added.

  “That poor girl,” Nik said, sympathy all but throbbing in her voice.

  “Why poor?” he asked. “She had five brothers ready and willing to defend her honor,” he said, only half kidding.

 
“I think you answered your own question. Your sister probably never had any dates as a teenager. If you’re any indication, nobody could get through that solid wall of protective brotherhood around her.”

  “Oh, she could hold her own, trust me.” He looked thoughtfully at her. “I think you and Skylar would get along great,” he said.

  “Well, at any rate tell her she has my full sympathy,” Nik told him.

  She took a deep breath. “Well, here it is,” she said unnecessarily as she came to a stop before the door with 164 on it. “My door. Consider me brought to it. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you’ve made your mother very proud.”

  She wasn’t prepared for the rather solemn look on his face. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  “Your mother’s a rather demanding woman?” Nik asked.

  “Not anymore.” Then, because he could see the question coming into her eyes, Finn said, “Mom’s been gone now for five years.”

  Well, she’d certainly put both feet into her mouth, Nik thought, keenly embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized with sincerity. “I didn’t mean to be so flippant. I didn’t know.” The words sounded rather empty to her.

  “No reason you should,” Finn replied.

  His absolving her only made things worse in her opinion. She should have known, she upbraided herself. She had found out things about other members of his family. Why had she overlooked looking into his background, of all of the Cavanaughs?

  It didn’t make any sense to her—unless, she thought, she had done it deliberately out of some sense of self-preservation. That could be it. There was something about this particular Cavanaugh that seemed to just really get to her.

  No, she argued, that wasn’t it. This was just the headache and the exhaustion talking, nothing more. Nothing else made sense, right?

  “Well, thanks for the drink,” she said. “And for seeing me to my door, safe and sound,” she added with a smile.