Prince Charming is a Liar (Your Every Day Hero Book 1)

by Higgins, Marie

  “The victim died by a fierce blow to the head.” Conover pointed to the injury. “When I examined the skull, however, I found this, embedded inside.” He held up a ziplock bag with a sharp object that was made of steel.

  Martinez and Tyrone examined it and then handed it to her and Kurt. “Do you know where the piece could have come from?” the captain asked.

  “I believe so. After running several tests, I think it’s from a historic weapon.”

  Brittany shook her head, not believing what she heard. “A historic weapon?”

  Nodding, Conover walked over to his desk and picked up a picture of a weapon that she figured was used in medieval times.

  “You’d mentioned the victim had a list of names of powerful and wealthy men, correct?” Conover asked, and they all nodded. “If you find the man who has a collection of ancient weapons, you just might find your killer.”

  Brittany and Kurt exchanged glances. She scrambled to remember if Austin’s place had such a collection, but she honestly couldn’t remember. Besides…why was she even thinking about Austin that way? In her mind, she’d erased him from her suspects’ list.

  “There was another thing I discovered,” Conover continued. “When I ran a toxicology screen, I found traces of poison in her bloodstream. I ran tests on the victim’s clothes that were left in the bathroom when she had taken a bath, and they had stains from where she’d vomited. I checked her arms for traces of needles, but there weren’t any. I believe the victim had consumed something which had poison in it.” He shook his head. “If the blow to the head hadn’t killed her, the poison would have.”

  Kurt cussed. “Apparently, the killer was serious about killing Hillary one way or another.” The other men in the room didn’t verbally answer, but nodded in agreement.

  “Conover,” Tyrone asked, “in your testing, could you tell what she had for breakfast that morning?”

  Nodding, Conover lifted his notebook and scanned the contents. “Pancakes and bacon with coffee.”

  Brittany tapped her finger on her chin. Now the question was, had she stayed at home to eat or went out?

  Martinez cleared his throat. “We need everyone to return to the suspects’ homes and see if they have an ancient collection of weapons. Because this was the exact cause of the death, finding the weapon is crucial.”

  She walked with Kurt outside toward the parking lot in silence. She tried to piece in her mind what could have happened at the crime scene. Hillary must have been with the killer before she’d gone in to take a bath. But, she wouldn’t have brought this person back to her parent’s home. Instead, Hillary would have met this person somewhere else, had drinks with them—perhaps a late breakfast of pancakes and bacon—before returning to her parent’s house. The poison would have made her ill, and after regurgitating what was in her stomach, she would have wanted to take a shower to wash it off in hopes of feeling better again.

  “Kurt? Has Jasmine pulled the report to see which purchases Hillary used with her credit or debit card?”

  He shrugged. “Good question. I’m not sure, but if she hasn’t, we’ll ask her to do that.”

  “I’m thinking,” Brittany continued, “that Hillary probably met the killer for breakfast. Maybe it was there where the killer poisoned her.”

  “Good thinking.” He walked to his car first and pointed at the driver’s side. “Why don’t we go together and check on some leads.”

  “Sure.” She climbed in and closed the door.

  Once Kurt was inside, he started the car and backed out. “Call Jasmine now, and ask her.”

  Brittany quickly got on her cell and called the other woman. Thankfully, Jasmine had pulled the report, and she read off the few places Hillary had gone that morning where she used her credit card. When Brittany ended the call, she grinned at Kurt. “Looks like we’ll be going to The Original Pancake House.”

  His smile widened, showing his polished white teeth, which contrasted against his dark brown goatee. “Am I to understand Hillary had breakfast there that morning?”

  Brittany nodded. “And I’m betting money that she met up with a man.”

  “Me, too.” He winked. “Oh, and the next place I want to check out is Isabella’s Escort Service.”

  Confusion filled her and she narrowed her gaze on him. “Isabella’s Escort Service? I thought Austin had mentioned a Belle’s Escort Service.”

  “Since there is no business by that name, I’m thinking Belle is a nickname for Isabella.”

  “Ah, good thinking, partner.” She chuckled. “I never suspected Belle would be short for another name.” She drummed her fingers on the armrest of the car. “Are there other escort services in Seattle?”

  “A few, but not with a name that would fit with Belle.”

  It didn’t take long before he pulled up in front of the pancake house. Thankfully, they were open for dinner as well as breakfast. Brittany and Kurt walked in together. Immediately, they were greeted by the hostess. They both flashed the woman their badges.

  “I’m Detective Hamill, and this is my partner, Detective Russell with SPD. Can we speak with the manager?”

  The girl—who looked like she was still in high school—with mostly brown hair, but a section was colored in blue, and a lip ring, widened her eyes. She swallowed hard. “Um, the manager doesn’t work tonight. But my supervisor is here.”

  “Please get your supervisor,” Brittany said.

  The girl hurried off, and Brittany scoped out the seating area. Tonight, there were only five man/woman couples, one couple that were both female, and one family with four kids, partaking of the restaurant’s fine dining. She raised her gaze to the ceiling, looking for any security cameras. “I don’t see any more cameras,” she whispered.

  “Me, either.” Kurt moved to the cash register, his attention went everywhere, even on the floor. Then he pointed to a spot on the wall behind the register. “I think that’s the security camera.”

  She stood close to him until their elbows touched. “Yeah, I think it is.”

  “Can I help you?”

  A man, who was in his late twenties, approached them with the blue-haired girl tagging behind. Kurt moved in front of Brittany to greet the man.

  “We are SPD Detectives, and I need to ask you a few questions about Sunday morning between eight and ten. Were you, or any of your employees, working that morning?”

  “I was.” The blond man nodded.

  Kurt reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a picture. “This woman was having breakfast that morning. Do you remember her?”

  The overweight man’s gaze narrowed as he studied the picture. Slowly, he nodded. “I think I do. If I remember right, she was waiting for her friend.”

  “Do you know if her friend ever showed up?” Brittany asked, coming closer.

  The man scratched his double chin. “Yes.”

  “By chance,” Brittany continued, “did you recognize him as someone of importance here in Seattle?”

  The man frowned. “I don’t remember thinking that at all.”

  “Do you think,” Kurt added, “that you could describe him?”

  The man breathed in slowly, and then exhaled. “All I can remember was that he was a good looking man. He and the woman looked good together because they were both very well-dressed people. I do remember that they argued about something, and then the man left before the woman.”

  “Thanks for your help.” Kurt pointed to the wall behind the cash register. “One last thing. Is that a security camera?”

  “Yes.”

  Kurt continued. “Are there others?”

  “No.”

  “Could we get Sunday’s recording?”

  “I, um…” The man scratched his double chin again. “I’ll have to get the manager’s approval.”

  “Would you call him right now?” Brittany asked. “We could get a search warrant if the manager doesn’t comply.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” The overweight man hurried back into the
other room.

  During the wait, she scanned the occupants, again. One man facing her, kept raising his gaze to her and Kurt. When he caught her looking his way, he quickly lowered his gaze and leaned across the table as if he was talking to the woman sitting across from him.

  “So what’s your theory?” Kurt asked her.

  She snapped her attention away from the couple and walked to the bench near the cash register, and sat. “I think Hillary met one of the men on her list, to try and bribe them into going with her new call girl business. And, just like what happened with Austin, I think this guy rudely refused her and then stormed out of the restaurant.”

  “What about the poison?” Kurt lifted a leg, resting his foot against the bench, as he met her gaze.

  “Well, that gets a little tricky. I suppose that she had tried to bribe this man—or even blackmail him—before, and he was tired of it. He could have met her here with the poison, ready to pour it in her coffee. Maybe he could have tried to stop her from doing something that she’d threatened to do, and when things didn’t go his way, he could have poured the powder in her coffee when she wasn’t looking.”

  “That’s plausible.” Kurt stroked his trimmed goatee, the familiar way he’d always done when he was deep in thought. “I do agree with you that Hillary was trying to blackmail him, or threaten him in some way.”

  “You do?” Strange how he agrees with her now, but he couldn’t agree with her about Austin?

  “Yes. Hillary had control of the meeting, because if she hadn’t, her male friend wouldn’t have stormed out of here.”

  “That’s a brilliant theory.” She smiled.

  “Excuse me,” some guy snapped at Kurt as he came to pay for his meal.

  Kurt moved away from the cash register and stood on the other side of Brittany.

  The woman waiting for the man at the register had her head bent as she pretended to dig through her purse. Unless the lady was trying to find the kitchen sink in there, Brittany didn’t believe the woman looked like she was searching for anything of importance.

  The girl with the blue section of hair, rang the man up and gave him back his change. The man and the woman rushed past Brittany with their heads turned—as if they didn’t want her to see them.

  Curious, Brittany stood and walked to the front door, watching as they scurried to their vehicles. Usually, people only hurried like that unless it was raining. She looked at the license plate, and quickly wrote down the number, and then jotted down the make and model of the car.

  “What’s up?” Kurt asked behind her.

  “I don’t know. These two just appeared…different. The way they acted was like they were trying to get out of here as fast as they could. And,” she looked over her shoulder at Kurt, “they were desperately trying to keep us from studying their faces.”

  “How odd.”

  Brittany nodded. “Very odd.”

  From behind them, someone cleared his throat. She and Kurt turned to see the supervisor again. He wrung his beefy hands against is wide belly.

  “The manager says I can show you the video.”

  As they followed him in the back, Kurt walked beside Brittany, but just far enough behind that his hand moved to her waist. She peeked at him over her shoulder, and he gave her a wink. Her heart tripped, and her legs nearly followed. What was he doing? Why was he acting so possessive now?

  For the next half hour, they watched the video as many people came to the cash register to pay, starting at eight o’clock, and going nearly until ten. Brittany hadn’t met all of the suspects, but pictures of these men were added to the board in the detective’s room. So far, nobody looked suspicious.

  She sat at the desk as Kurt stood behind her, leaning over her shoulder. The cologne that she’d always loved smelling on him, filled the air around her, creating comfort inside of her. Strange to think she’d always felt this way when he was near—as if nothing bad could ever happen to her because he was her protector.

  She mentally shook off the silly fantasy she’d had since becoming his partner of them falling in love, and focused on the recording. So far, she didn’t notice anyone. As they watched one man pay for his meal, behind him another man rushed by, bumping into him on his way.

  “Stop it right there,” Kurt snapped, pointing to the screen. The supervisor followed his instructions. “Rewind it, and play it really slow now.”

  As they watched it again, Brittany paid closer attention to the man in the background. She could only see the side of his face, but it was still quite blurred. The man wore a black leather jacket. By his movements, it was obvious, he was very upset.

  “Play it back again,” Kurt ordered.

  Again, the supervisor did as asked. Kurt leaned in closer, his chest pressing against Brittany’s shoulder as his hand grasped the back of her chair.

  “Pause it right there.” Kurt pointed to the screen, and then turned to Brittany. “Does this man look like he has a mustache?”

  She leaned into the monitor closer. The man was just too blurred for her to tell, but it did appear as if hair covered that area between his nose and upper lip.

  “In fact,” Kurt said softer, “it almost looks like he has a beard…or a goatee.”

  As she tried to study the recording, it hit her what Kurt was trying to do. She fisted her hands on her lap and under her breath, counted to ten. When he turned his head to look at her, she glared. “What are you implying?” she muttered between clenched teeth.

  “I’m implying that our killer just might have a goatee.”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “What little we can see of his face is blurred. We can’t be sure if it’s a goatee, or if he just has a mustache and a dirty chin.”

  Kurt arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? A dirty chin?”

  She threw him a glare. “We cannot make an accurate observation, and you know it.”

  “You’re still trying to protect him,” he whispered in an accusing tone.

  “And you’re trying to blame an innocent man.” She motioned her head to the monitor. “He probably doesn’t even own a black leather jacket. That’s not his style.”

  Kurt’s cheeks reddened, and his nostrils flared. “You know his style now?”

  “I’ve had enough.” She pushed away from Kurt and stood. Looking at the supervisor, she said, “We’ll need this recording to take back with us.”

  Nodding, the supervisor hurried and pulled out the recording, and then wrote a name and phone number on it. With shaky hands, he gave it to her.

  “Thanks for your cooperation.” With the recording in hand, she hurried out of the restaurant, not caring if Kurt followed or not.

  TWELVE

  By the time Brittany made it to the car, Kurt had caught up. He grabbed her arm, stopping her, and then swung her around to face him. They weren’t anywhere near a street lamp, so it was harder to read his expression, especially his eyes.

  “Britt,” he said, taking deep breaths, “you need to stop this fascination with the perp. “Austin Reeder isn’t as innocent as you’d like to believe.”

  She tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her closer. “Kurt, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

  “Britt, sweetheart,” he whispered as he caressed her cheek tenderly, “you know I’m right. You know you’re not supposed to be feeling this way toward a suspect. If Martinez found out—”

  “Don’t you dare tell him,” she clipped. “And, really…it’s not that I’m having feelings for Austin,” she lied, “it’s just that I feel he’s innocent.”

  “You are having feelings for him. Why else do you think I’d get jealous?” Kurt’s voice was softer. “I don’t blame you. He’s a good looking man, he’s a charmer, and he’s rich. What’s not to like about him…except that he might be a killer.”

  Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to shed them. Why was Kurt doing this to her? When she was with Austin, her gut—or heart—told her that he wasn’t a killer. Bu
t when she was with Kurt—the man she’d known longer and trusted with every fiber in her soul—why did doubt sneak in and make her question what her heart believed?

  “You just don’t understand,” she whispered, afraid if she spoke louder, her voice would crack with emotion.

  “I understand all too well, sweetheart. I understand my partner—the woman I’ve come to love—is being pulled in by a con artist. And I understand it’s my duty to protect her all I can by doing whatever is necessary to see the truth.”

  She fought back the tears, but one slipped through the dam, regardless of how hard she tried not to cry. Her lips trembled, and she didn’t dare speak for fear of totally breaking down in front of him.

  With the pad of his thumb, he wiped the tear sliding down her cheek. “Let’s get in the car.”

  She nodded. He opened the door for her and helped her inside, then walked around and climbed in the driver’s side. He didn’t start the car. Instead, he gathered her back into his arms and laid her head against his chest. The position was more awkward now than when they were standing outside, but that’s because of these uncomfortable bucket seats and the console between them.

  Did he really love her as he’d said? Or did he say that as a way to try to convince her to turn off her feelings for Austin? She really didn’t know him that well, and yet, the times they were together, she felt as though they belonged with one another. She was happy with Austin. She was…at peace for some reason.

  Silence stretched between them for the first few minutes, and all she could hear was the uneven beat of her heart—and his—and his ragged breaths. Her breathing didn’t seem to be as irregular. He kissed the top of her head, and she smiled. Her heart softened toward him, once again.

  “Sweetheart? Are you going to say anything about what I just told you?”

  Inwardly, Brittany cringed. It was probably too soon to talk about the L word with Kurt. She loved him, yes, but did she love him like that? At one time she’d wanted to, but he was her partner. He was still her partner.