by Peggy Dulle
“Yes, I guess you do. And as I recall, you always rented a sports car when we worked together. Flashy man, flashy car.” I shrugged. “It makes sense.”
“I'm not a flashy man.”
I slid into the passenger seat and pointed at him. “Look at your outfit. Black leather Moto jacket, silk shirt, and designer jeans. The jacket's an Armani, isn't it?” He smiled, and I continued, “It fits you like a glove and probably cost more than a month of my salary.”
“I can't help it that I have good taste in clothing.”
“How do you afford all those fancy clothes?”
“Trust fund.” He shrugged.
“You have a trust fund?”
“Yes.”
“So you're really a rich kid who's an action junkie?”
“No, I'm an FBI profiler who just happens to have money.”
“Sure you are.” I laughed, and reached over and patted his hand. “How far is your apartment?”
“Downtown. With the traffic, it will take a few minutes. Lean back, relax and enjoy the weather.” He pushed the button and the convertible top slid back.
As he drove, I watched him. His luxurious crop of wavy jet black hair was thick and barely moved with the wind rushing through it. He had the round face of an angel, with stunning green eyes and the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a man. I really could see how other women found him attractive.
William’s apartment was on the top floor of a high-rise in downtown Dallas. Security guard on the bottom floor, private elevator, and the most lavish furnishings I had ever seen. The foyer had green marble floors, two crystal chandeliers, and a huge oak grandfather clock.
I looked at William.
He laughed and shrugged. “I know, it's a bit over the top, but it came furnished and I'm too busy to change it. I put you in the first bedroom on the right, down the hall. Do you want me to show you?”
“No, I think I can handle finding my way down a hallway.”
“Okay.”
“Then I'll take a tour of your place.” I grinned at him. “If I get lost, I'll just scream.”
He laughed, walked through the foyer, and to the left.
My room was quite lovely. On each wall hung several lighthouse prints. A king-sized bed with a delicately carved oak headboard sat in the center of the room, covered with a beautiful patchwork quilt in soft pastels. On the left were two doors, one that led to a walk-in closet bigger than my bedroom at home and the other to a bathroom with a huge shower, Jacuzzi tub, and two sinks.
I walked back into the bedroom. I set my one small suitcase on the bed and decided to finish my tour of the apartment.
The second door on the right led to a much more masculine bedroom, this one in deep cherry wood furniture with huge countryside tapestries hanging on the walls. In the middle of one wall sat another four-poster king-sized bed with a dark brown comforter. The comforter looked twelve inches thick and I had to stop myself from jumping on it. If the decor alone didn't convince me, than the fifty suits in various dark colors that hung in the walk-in closet told me who slept in this room. The large window gave a wonderful view of the entire city, and I wondered if William ever took the time to look at it.
Across the hall from William's bedroom I found an exercise room, better equipped than most gyms. Next was an extremely well-equipped office with shiny black vinyl and chrome furniture. Several whiteboards contained pictures and information about victims, their families and friends. One entire wall held floor to ceiling bookcases filled with psychology, forensic, and law books. Everything was meticulously neat, clean, and organized. This room felt like it belonged to William.
I glanced quickly into the opulent living room and formal dining area, and eventually found William in one of the four chairs at a high table in the kitchen, nose buried in the Wall Street Journal. A mug of French Roast coffee sat on the table. The smell was wonderful, even for a non-coffee drinker like me. Now, I had seen a lot of kitchens in my time, but his seemed better equipped than most caterers’ with a massive chrome exhaust system over an eight-burner gas stove, three ovens, and a double drawer dishwasher. The oak cabinetry was accentuated by green granite countertops. But I didn't see a refrigerator. Maybe it had its own room.
“This is some apartment, William.” I sat down in the chair next to him.
“It's okay.” He shrugged.
I picked up his cup and took a sip of his coffee. It tasted as good as it smelled.
He grabbed it back. “Get your own.”
“I'd rather have a cold drink. Where are you hiding the refrigerator?”
He pointed to a set of cabinets. “It's over there, but the sodas and beer are in the wet bar in the living room.”
“Any juice in this refrigerator?”
“Yes.” He went back to his newspaper.
I realized then that the two tall cabinets were actually the doors to the refrigerator. The inside was stocked with juices, fresh fruit and vegetables. I took an apple and some mango juice out, and set them on the counter. “Glasses?”
“Third cabinet on the right,” he said, without a glance up from his paper.
“Thanks.” Glasses of various sizes and shapes filled the cupboard. They all matched. If you opened the cabinets at my house, you would find several different styles of glasses. I didn't have a full set of anything.
I poured myself some juice, put the container back into the refrigerator, and joined William at the table.
I pulled down the front of his newspaper. “So how'd you get so rich?”
He rolled his eyes but dropped the paper on the table. “My grandparents owned several hotels and casinos. My dad was a minister when my mom met him, but after they got married, he took over and bought several more hotels. Ten years ago, they sold all of them and put the money in trust funds. Now, they're busy traveling all over the world. My dad's back to being a preacher and he couldn't be happier.” He glanced at his watch. “Today they're in Mexico, building houses.”
I smiled and finished my juice. William went back to his paper.
For the next week, our routine was the same. William took me to my doctor's appointment every day and then we went out to lunch at some nice restaurant. I still had a few attacks, especially if someone startled me, but I was able to manage them without using William as a crutch.
Matthew never called. Several times, I left messages for him but he never returned them.
At night, if William was busy, I cooked; if I was taking a nap, he cooked. He was a much better cook than I, so I tried to take my nap every day around four. I always had to clean up, but the meals were delicious. He had an entire cupboard full of cookbooks and every night he made something different. We had Ham Tetrazzini, Yakitori, Cabbage Casserole, and Seafood Gumbo. I stopped asking what the ingredients were on the second night when I found out he put chicken livers and squid in the Yakitori. After dinner we worked on his cases and mixed in a few board games, for laughs and distractions from the victims and their killers. William finally even won a few games, but never could discover the killer as fast as I could in the game of Clue.
I reached up and touched the Clue game. Cheezy rubbed against my leg, dragging me back to the present. I closed the closet door and picked her up. “Well, at least you're someone I can count on to always be here for me.” Then I laughed. “Unless a mouse or bird catches your attention or the male cat down the street comes to visit.”
I needed to focus on finding the identity of the skull and stop reliving the past. But no matter how hard I tried to push it out of my mind, it always crept back in. Little things sparked memories. Why couldn't I leave the past in the past?
Dr. Cohan's words came back to me. “At some point, you will need to deal with things and not just let them roll off your back, Agent Davenport. Moving on is great, unless you do it as an escape from your emotions or problems.”
What the hell did he know? Didn't people go to their psychiatrist to learn how to let things go and move on with their liv
es? I was the queen of letting go!
I kissed Cheezy on top of her head and set her down. After a long hot shower, I turned in since it was after eleven. I fell asleep to the sound of the wind and rain slapping against the front porch. That's just what we needed, more rain. The ground was still saturated from the last deluge of weather Mother Nature had thrown at us.
A few hours later, I awoke to the ringing phone. It's never good news at that hour.
“Hello?” I said.
“We found another piece of the skull!” Bob shouted.
Chapter 5
That wasn't a surprise. The rest of the skeletal remains had to show up eventually. No one buries just the head of their loved one. “Calm down, Bob. Can't it wait until morning?”
“No, I took it over to Doc. He's been up all night with Mr. Jenkins and his gallbladder. Doc says it's not from the same skull.”
I sat up, shook my head to clear it. “What?”
“Doc says the bottom piece of the skull doesn't match the top. They're from two different people.”
“You haven't told anyone about this, have you?”
“No.”
“Who found the piece?”
“Katie and Jay. They were out walking in the rain down Main Street after they went to the late movie. Katie saw something in the gutter so Jay picked it up and then they brought it to the station. Trent called me and I came down. By the way, Jay said to tell you that he gets first dibs on any new information.”
Trent was the officer who covered the station at night, so it made sense that he was there when Katie and Jay brought the piece in.
“Okay, call Trent and ask him not to tell anyone about this. Then go and find Katie and Jay.”
“They said they were going home to bed.”
“I don't care. We need to tell them not to say anything about this.”
Silence.
“Chief, do I have to?” he whined. “They might be together. It would be so embarrassing.”
I knew he was blushing. Bob didn't handle personal relationships very well. “Okay, hand the phone to Doc.”
“Okay.”
“Good morning, Connie. This is so exciting.”
“I know, Doc. But please do me a favor.”
“Sure.”
“Don't say anything to anyone about the new piece not matching the old.”
“Why?”
“I'd like to keep that quiet for awhile, okay?”
“Why?” he asked again.
“We haven't ruled out the possibility that it's old graves that got unearthed in the floods. I don't want people getting hysterical and thinking that we've got two murder victims.”
“Okay, Connie.”
“Give the phone back to Bob.” Bob was our town crier and keeping this information from being disseminated was like using straws to plug a leaking dike.
“Yeah, Chief.”
“Where is the piece of the skull?”
“I've got it in a big Ziploc bag.”
“Perfect. Take it to the station and do not show it to anyone or speak to anyone on your way.”
“What about Katie and Jay?”
“After the skull piece is locked in our safe at the station, we'll go and find Katie and Jay.”
“Thanks, Chief. I'll give Trent a call and tell him you said not to share any information.”
“Okay, I'll see you in a few minutes.”
I dressed in record time and immediately left for the station. Bob was waiting outside for me. I parked in front and he got into the car.
“The skull piece?”
“Locked securely in the safe.”
“Okay. Jay's house first.”
Bob cringed but didn't say a word. Jay lived in one of the more expensive condos just east of Main Street. Beautifully manicured lawns, freshly painted building, and a parking lot with fewer holes than the new highway.
“Can I stay in the car?” Bob asked as we parked in the visitor's lot.
“Sure.”
I knocked on 4C.
I heard Jay yell from inside, “Just a moment.” He opened the door. “Chief?” He glanced at his watch and smiled. “It's kind of late for a social call.”
“This isn't a social call, Jay. I have a question.”
“Sure, what?”
“Where exactly did you find the skull piece?”
“Floating in the gutter. We picked it up outside the diner.”
“Okay. Also don't say anything to anybody about the piece that you and Katie found. I don’t want to cause a panic.”
“Sure, whatever you want.”
That was easy. The next question wasn't. “Did you walk Katie home?”
He grinned. “Do you want to know whether she's here?”
“Well, I guess I do.”
“Come on, Chief, she's a baby.”
“Okay then. She's at home.”
“She was the last time I saw her.”
“Thanks, Jay.”
Jay reached out and touched my arm. “Now, you're much closer to my age. And did you notice that you didn't have a panic attack when you saw me?”
I smiled. He was right, I hadn't. “I guess I'm getting used to you.”
“Good. That's a start. Keep my seat warm in your booth at the diner. I love dropping in on you.” He closed the door.
Damn, he had gotten the last word again.
In the patrol car, Bob asked, “Was he alone?”
“Yes. After they left the station, he walked Katie home. She should be at her house.”
“Good.” He nodded and smiled.
A few minutes later we knocked on Katie's parents’ house. They lived in a five year old housing development on the south end of town. Single story Colonial stucco homes with postage-stamp-sized front yards and no porches. The houses were so close to each other that you could reach out your bathroom window and shake your neighbor's hand. Every structure looked the same, except for the exterior color in muted brown or tan. No charm, just quick construction and even faster financing.
Her dad answered the door wrapped in a terrycloth brown robe. “Chief?”
“Can I talk to Katie for a few minutes?”
“Is it about the piece of skull that she and Jay found tonight?”
“Yes. And I need you and your wife to keep that information to yourselves for a little while, okay?”
“Sure, Chief.” He turned toward the stairs that led to the second floor. “I'll get Katie.”
She came down wrapped in a big pink terrycloth robe. “Hi, Chief.”
“I'm sorry to wake you but I need you to promise me that you won't say anything about the skull piece you found tonight.”
“Why not?”
“I just want to keep that quiet for a little while, okay?”
“Sure.”
“You haven't called any of your friends, have you?”
“No, I got in too late.” She leaned against the door jam. “Jay is so cool.”
“Well, tell your friends about Jay and skip the part about the skull piece.”
“Okay.” Katie smiled. “He's a better story, anyway.”
“Good night, Katie.”
She waved. “Good night, Chief.”
I drove down Main Street. All of the gutters overflowed with water.
“Where is all of this water coming from?” I asked Bob.
“The rain?”
“Maybe, but then how did the skull piece get into the town?” I pointed to the glove compartment. “Give me that levee map again.”
I pulled to the curb and we spread it out in front of us. “Okay.” I pointed. “Here's where we changed the flow of the river.”
Bob pointed to the top of the map. “This levee is higher than where we diverted the water into the river. If it's broken, then some of the water could come into the town.”
“That means the pieces might be coming from further up than the original site.”
“We had the crime scene unit look at the wrong scene?”
It took us thirty minutes to get to the top levee system. By now the rain poured in a deluge rather than a drizzle. The levees were completely submerged. I made another call to the work crew to come out and put up more sandbags. We waited for them and helped them build up the levee. An hour later, we had diverted the water from the town and back toward the river.
On the drive back to the station, I asked Bob, “So have you decided when to pop the question to Sheila?” Sheila Culter was a local beautician and the two had been dating for several years.
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“It's got to be the perfect place and I can't decide where.” He frowned.
“I don't think Sheila is going to care about the where, just the ring and the date for the wedding.”
“Probably not, but I want it to be romantic.”
“That's a limited number of places in Arroyo,” I laughed.
“I've got it narrowed down to two places.”
“Well, just pick one and get on with it.”
He ignored my prodding and continued. “Our first date was at the Get Away Diner for lunch.”
“Okay, so have Erma whip up something special and do it there.”
“No,” he shook his head. “Too public.”
“What's the second place?”
Bob's face flushed red.
I glared at him. “If you tell me your bed, I'll throw you out of this car and make you walk home.”
“No,” he said indignantly. “But it's silly.”
“Silly and romantic go hand in hand, Bob.”
“We shared our first kiss in the swing on her front porch.”
Okay, that was sweet. But if I said so, Bob would die of embarrassment. I patted him on the arm. “That's perfect Bob. Get Erma to make something special. Take it to go and have a picnic on her front swing. That's romantic.”
Bob's face beamed. “That's a great idea, Chief. First kisses are much more special than first dates.”
I dropped Bob back at the station and headed for home. First kisses are special. Try as I might, I couldn't remember the first time Matthew and I kissed. It had to be on our first or second date, but the exact moment eluded me. But another first kiss sprang to mind immediately.
