Riddle Me This (Detective Kate Rosetti Mystery Book 2)

by Gina LaManna

“Doesn’t mean he’s a good or a bad guy. Just means he’s rich and knows how to use it.”

  “Now who’s the cynic?” Russo chanced a quick glance at me. “Honestly, what do you think of him?”

  “I think...” I paused. “I haven’t actually thought about it.”

  “It’s alright to be honest,” Russo said. “I already told you I think he’s a good guy.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “Well, I guess I think so, too.”

  Fortunately, Russo’s GPS interrupted the conversation to announce our arrival at the crime scene. He drove another block, then pulled over. Crime scene tape had already been looped around the house in question and flashing lights signified the presence of other law enforcement personnel.

  “Oh, no,” I muttered. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  Russo’s face was pale. “I’m guessing there’s no chance this is a coincidence?”

  I just stared at him. We were in my neighborhood. More specifically, on my very street. You could see my house from the windows of the crime scene.

  “It’s a message,” I said dully. “He’s back, and he’s close.”

  “And he’s not going to leave without his prize.”

  Russo grimly stepped from the car. He led the way to the front of the house and checked us in. The entire time, his hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and make sure I was still beside him.

  “I imagine your cronies will be here soon,” I said, moving a hint further away and turning on a smile. “Assuming what we find points us to Wilkes in there.”

  “My cronies?” Russo hiked up the front steps and through the open door. Crime scene techs bustled about, parting to make way for us. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

  I turned to a young officer. “Where’s the scene?”

  He winced, gestured toward the stairs. “Bathroom. Pretty gruesome.”

  “Aren’t they all,” I murmured.

  The house in question was small, probably no more than fifteen hundred square feet split over two levels and a basement. The upstairs consisted of a landing pad with three doors spread before us. All were open. Two of them led to bedrooms, one led to a crowded bathroom.

  Several techs and officers slipped silently out of the bathroom to make way for me and Russo. Only Melinda stayed behind, straightening as she caught sight of us.

  “Detective, Agent Russo.” She nodded to each of us. “Welcome home.”

  I studied my friend’s face for hints as to what she’d found, but her bedside manner and medical training had prepared her for moments like this. Her pretty features were stonewalled into a polite smile.

  As usual, she looked immaculate. Her long hair was softly curled and shiny. She wore high heels as usual, and for a brief second my mind switched over to the Harry Brine case as I wondered what’d come of his anonymous girlfriend.

  “I know the question on both of your minds,” she said softly. “And I’ll give you my standard warning that—”

  “You can’t know until you perform the autopsy,” I interrupted. “Got it. Was this his work?”

  Usually, Melinda hated making any sort of assumptions. She refused to even call big pools of red ‘blood’ until she’d sampled and tested and confirmed that it was, in fact, real blood and not some other ambiguous “reddish brown stain”.

  But this evening, she simply bowed her head and looked toward the body. “I think so.”

  It felt as if I’d completely skipped a breath. To cover up my dismay, I knelt before the bathtub to study the body. I focused on my work—it was all I could manage.

  Wilkes’s latest victim was male. Late-twenties to mid-thirties, if I had to guess. He had an average-to-fit build, an early-receding hairline, and a pale complexion. He was completely naked, lying in the bathtub. The bathtub and surrounding walls were wet, as if he’d been showering when it’d happened. Grudgingly, I noted the man’s lack of teeth.

  “I’m guessing he was surprised while taking a rinse?” I turned to look at Melinda.

  “That’s what I suspect. “There’s nothing to indicate the drain had been used to stop up the water.” Melinda studied my confused look and quickly clarified. “He wasn’t taking a bath.”

  “Right,” I said. “Do you have a name?”

  “The man who owns this house is named Warren Parcel. We obviously don’t have dental records, and his fingerprints are...”

  We all looked at the man’s hands. They’d been singed. Fingerprints would be impossible.

  “It’s Warren Parcel, I’m almost certain,” Melinda said. “We’ll confirm it with DNA, but the picture on his license—which we found in the wallet in his pants—matches. Same name on the deed to the house.”

  “Married? Single? Employed?”

  “We believe he has a serious girlfriend. Officers are still trying to track down a Sarah Belmont. Her things are all over the house, including her purse, wallet, and car keys. There are pictures of Sarah and Warren together all over the house.”

  I cursed, reconsidered, and cursed again as I straightened. “Did you say her purse and car keys were left here? And her wallet?”

  Melinda gave a resigned nod.

  “He has her.”

  Russo looked at me. “Maybe she went for a walk. Visited family.”

  “For what, hours?” I glanced at the clock on my phone. “No. A woman doesn’t leave the house without her purse, her keys, or some combination of the two. Even for a walk around the block. Have you found her phone?”

  Melinda shook her head. “Haven’t found Warren’s either. Nothing else was taken that we’ve deduced so far.”

  “Any defensive wounds?”

  “Some.” Melinda pointed to the shower curtain that was hanging from just two rings and had been pushed off to the side. “There are signs of a struggle. Keep your fingers crossed we find something.”

  “Cause of death?”

  “I can’t say for certain,” she said, ignoring my look of surprise. “He’s got a huge knot on the back of his head.”

  “He fell during the struggle?”

  She nodded, pointed toward a smear of blood. “Here. Slid down. It was probably enough to knock him unconscious. However, his actual time of death—I suspect—wasn’t until later.”

  I closed my eyes, took a breath. Reopened them. “Wilkes wanted his victim to be alive for the extraction.”

  Melinda confirmed with a nod. “That’s my best guess.”

  “He would have been angry when this didn’t go according to plan,” I said, glancing around the bathroom. “Wilkes is meticulous. He likes a challenge, but he also likes to know that he can win.”

  “But he still won,” Russo pointed out. “It’d have been easier to get rid of a grown man’s teeth if he was knocked out. If it were me, and I were awake, I’d have been fighting tooth and nail—sorry—to keep my mouth intact.”

  “He likes to play with his prey. I bet Wilkes wanted to wait until Parcel woke to finish the job,” I said. “So, what did he do to kill time until that happened?”

  Russo considered. “What is our timeline here?”

  “The body’s been here for a while,” Melinda said. “We were only alerted after a chain of events had people concerned for Warren Parcel. He didn’t show up to the law firm where he works. He’s a lawyer. Someone called home, no answer. Called the girlfriend, no answer. His secretary eventually called us saying it was quite unlike him to not show for work.”

  “They don’t send cops out to check for delinquent adults,” Russo said. “And he wouldn’t have been considered missing because he played hooky from work.”

  “Things escalated when dispatch tried to reach his girlfriend at work. Someone said she didn’t show up either. The officer had a bad feeling, mentioned it to her boss. The chief happened to be in the office and heard the address. He, uh—recognized it.”

  “The address?” I squinted at her. “Or the street name?”

  “Yeah, probably that,” Melinda said quickly. “With you bei
ng the one that got away, and then the one who put him away, it was too dangerous not to send a patrol car over here to check things out. It’s a good thing we did, or we’d be even more behind.”

  “Which means Wilkes is probably frustrated that we’ve found the body so quickly,” I said. “If he wanted it public, he would have done things differently. He would’ve made sure we found the body. Hell, he would’ve called it in himself if he had to.”

  “Which means Wilkes had a bad day,” Russo said. “The kill didn’t go according to plan, and now we’re hours ahead of where he wanted us.”

  “And he’s got a guest he didn’t see coming,” I said grimly. “We’ve got to find Sarah.”

  “What makes you so certain he hasn’t already killed her?” Russo asked. “He could’ve dumped the body elsewhere.”

  “He could have,” I admitted. “But I don’t think he did. He’s saving her for something. I’m not sure what.”

  “You don’t think he’ll let her go?” Melinda asked uncertainty.

  I met her gaze evenly. “Not a chance.”

  Chapter 10

  We finished our work at the crime scene over the next hour. I talked to a few techs and officers, poked around the house for clues as to where Wilkes might have taken Sarah, but came up with nothing. I hadn’t expected we’d find anything, but I’d needed to do something other than sit around and ruminate on the latest development in Wilkes’s twisted story.

  Finally, the feds arrived, and the small house felt even smaller. I slid outside and found Russo a step behind me.

  “Were you planning to say goodbye?” Russo asked. “By the way, didn’t I drive you here?”

  “I needed some fresh air. Your cronies have sucked all the life out of the house.”

  “And here I thought the feds and the locals were making progress with our burgeoning friendship.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to smile. Instead, I wiggled my phone. “I’m going to take off, if that’s okay. It’s been a long day.”

  “I’ll drive you home.”

  “I mean, I can walk.” I shrugged. “But Melinda and I are going to grab a bite at Bellini’s first.” After a long, extended silence, I added unhelpfully. “Would you like to join us?”

  “Is that blondie going to be there?”

  “Who, Lassie? Yes, of course. She organized it.”

  “Then I think I’ll pass.” He scrunched up his face. “She’s nice and all, but she asks too many questions. And stares—a lot.”

  I couldn’t hold a short bark of laughter back. “Will you be alright for the night? Got yourself a hotel with your pals?”

  Russo walked next to me until we reached the car. He clicked open the door and pulled out my sister’s overnight bag for me. “I’ll be just fine. But I’d really like—”

  “If you say one word about putting protective detail on me, I will give you another black eye.”

  “I was hoping to say buy you breakfast and sit in on tomorrow’s autopsy, but thanks for the fair warning.”

  I shifted my bag on my shoulder. “Well, I’m sure that’d be fine. My mom’s café at eight?”

  “On me. Or, rather, on the bureau.”

  Melinda pulled up in her shiny Beemer and flicked her lights once to let me know she was ready to go. As if I’d miss her car. Everything about Melinda was shiny and nice and new and downright impossible to miss. Exactly the opposite of my style.

  “Goodnight,” Russo said, shaking me from my thoughts. “And because I value my face, I won’t say anything about a protective detail—but if you see a black SUV outside of your house, don’t shoot at it.”

  “I can’t make any promises.”

  I huffed over and climbed into Melinda’s car.

  “It’s been quite a day, huh?” She studied me as I tossed my bag on the floor. “Your breathing is erratic.”

  “How about we just focus on getting that drink.”

  “We’ll talk about your day over drinks, then?”

  “If by talk you mean blatantly ignore it, then yes.”

  Melinda gave me the polite smile of someone who knew better, then drove us straight to Bellini’s, a family style joint on the Italian side of town. My cousin, Angela, worked behind the bar most nights and made sure our tab was always fifty percent discounted. My father had also been affiliated with the Bellinis a while back, before he’d been blacklisted from the police department for his hand in a corruption scandal.

  Lassie was already seated when we arrived. Asha appeared while we were pouring our first round of drinks. When the four of us were settled, Melinda looked around the table, her gaze landing on me.

  “So,” she said breezily. “How was everyone’s day?”

  The ladies around the table collectively held their breath as I took a sip of my drink. I heaved a huge sigh as everyone waited for me to answer. “Crappy, if you must ask.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lassie argued. “You got to ride on a private jet down to Texas and back. You spent private, one-on-one time with the alluring Alastair Gem. And you have that hottie federal agent driving you around.”

  “I also spent quality time with a naked body in a bathtub who had no teeth left by the time we found him.”

  Lassie winced. “Then there’s that. But, if you want to look at the glass half full, we’re here to help you. And I’ve been making progress on the Harry Brine case.”

  “Great,” I said, eager to change the subject. “What have you found?”

  Lassie fawned under the attention as we all turned to look at her. “Harry was seeing a girl.”

  “You already knew that,” I pointed out. “Or suspected it.”

  Lassie frowned at my lack of enthusiasm for her big declaration. “That wasn’t it. I was getting to the good part. He called her B.”

  “B?” I asked. “What were they—spies? Was it some sort of code word?”

  “I did like you said and followed up with Emmy Tolinger,” Lassie said. “I might have had to fudge and say I was a consultant for the FBI, but I figured maybe your hottie friend would vouch for me.”

  “He won’t.”

  “Too late,” she said. “Anyway, Emmy told me that she was, in fact, supposed to go out with Harry Brine while she was in town. The night before, she called him to confirm—and he totally ditched her!”

  “Maybe he was busy?” I suggested. “I’m not sure this means what you think it does.”

  “There was a woman’s voice in the background,” Lassie said. “And Emmy called his home number—a landline—so she knows he was there physically. A woman was in his home, and he called her B.”

  “Just... B?”

  “Like a nickname. Emmy said that after he blew her off, she tried to hang up on him but pressed the wrong button and stayed on the line a second longer than she intended.” Lassie looked proudly around the table. “He said something like, ‘It’s nobody! I told you, B—it was a work call.’”

  “She heard all that?” I asked skeptically.

  “Maybe I filled in the blanks with my imagination, but Emmy said she definitely heard him call the woman B. Why would he have a nickname for a woman at home unless it was someone he was seeing romantically? It’s not like he’d call his work buddies that. Plus, they wouldn’t have been over at nine p.m., either.”

  “Maybe,” I hedged.

  “Double plus,” Lassie continued. “I already checked. He’s got no sisters, and his mother’s name is Kirsten. There are no ‘B’ names anywhere in his family, so it wasn’t a relative. Probably.”

  “Okay, so we’ve got a potential girlfriend with the nickname B,” I said. “That doesn’t mean she killed him.”

  “No, but it does raise the question as to why she didn’t report him missing,” Melinda said. “Or why she still hasn’t shown up since the news broke.”

  “She could be hiding,” Asha said. “Brine was a public face. Maybe the whole reason she stayed anonymous was because she didn’t want to be in the public eye. I’d und
erstand that.”

  “But wouldn’t she want to mourn?” I asked, and then, “the funeral!”

  “I’ll be your date,” Lassie said quickly. “I can say I’m covering the ceremony for my blog. Then we can go together and slip in and out like spies. Maybe your hottie agent friend can get me a complimentary badge.”

  “You need to stop calling him that,” I said. “His name is Special Agent Jack Russo.”

  “Uh-huh,” Lassie said. “Well, the funeral’s scheduled for Friday. That gives us a few days.”

  “I’m not on the Brine case,” I said. “I’ve got to finish up this Wilkes business first.”

  “Great. Then finish that up by Friday,” Lassie said, brushing her hands together. “Easy peasy.”

  I poured myself more margarita. I didn’t have to drive, and I did have to stare outside my window at a security team I didn’t want in place outside of my home. Tequila sounded just right.

  More importantly, though I didn’t want to admit it, I needed some sleep if I was going to catch up with Wilkes. With any luck, a hefty dose of margarita would knock me right out and keep the nightmares at bay while my ‘hottie agent’ guarded my front door.

  “Well, it’s a good thing at least someone is making progress.” Asha took a dainty sip of her drink, pausing to lick salt off the rim. “The names of those guards you sent me are a mess.”

  “They’re clean?”

  “The opposite,” Asha said. “There are so many complaints on each that it’s taking me forever to sift through them all. Nothing conclusive yet.”

  “Do you think one of them helped Wilkes out?” I asked. “Judging by what you’ve got so far?”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s too early to tell. It’s entirely possible, but I haven’t gotten the chance to dive into their personal lives yet. I’ve got some things running now.”

  “Keep me posted. Anyway, I should probably get home. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow and more work to do tonight.”

  Melinda rose. “I’ll drive you.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  I shuffled up to the bar and quickly settled the tab with my cousin Angela before meeting Melinda outside. The drop in temperature from inside the warmth of the restaurant to the fresh air outdoors did wonders for my level of alertness.