by Renee George
She turned her head until their mouths were mere centimeters apart. Mina was torn between wanting to thrash him or kiss him. Okay, more than kissing, but she chose neither. Instead, she leaned back. “Maybe.” She smiled.
Eric sighed.
Good, she thought. He’s disappointed. Disappointment is good.
“I haven’t been able to get you off my mind ever since I saw you yesterday.”
Mina looked away. He’d been on her mind as well. Charlie will kill me. When she turned back, she wore an appropriately blank expression. Eric looked as if he were about to say more when a waiter approached. “Are you Mr. Bishop?” the young man asked.
“Yes,” Eric said.
The guy handed him a folded note. “I have a message for you.”
Eric looked at it then scooted back in his chair. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He stood up.
Mina grabbed his arm. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been summoned by Albright.”
“You want I should go with?”
“No, it’s in the… executive boys’ room… If you get my drift.”
“Ah, the toilet.”
“Exactly.”
She got up and started to follow him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m going with you.”
He looked shocked, so she amended her statement. “I have to use the ladies’ room. I’m sure it’s near where you’re going.” When he hesitated, she added, “Don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you around the other boys.”
He smiled and put his arm out for her. “Thank you, Mother,” he said.
“Huh.” She gave him a withering look that she hoped conveyed her plan to soundly kick his ass the next time he referred to her as his mother.
* * * *
While Mina pretended to go to the ladies’ room, Eric entered men’s room. After he disappeared inside, she abandoned her ruse and stayed glued to the wall right next to the men’s bathroom. She ignored the people passing by who stared at her as if she were a pervert—or worse, desperate. Looking at her watch, she noted that it had been five minutes since Eric had gone in. She hoped the meeting wouldn’t last much longer.
The man from the bar, the one with the white patch in his hair, brushed past her and entered the bathroom. Two seconds later he was backing out in a hurry. “Someone call the police,” he shouted. The man, still yelling for help, took off in a sprint toward the hotel lobby.
Mina pulled her gun from her purse and pushed her way inside. A sour odor hit her nose and she immediately started breathing through her mouth. Eric stood over a very dead Albright. Next to his head, a small amount of blood stained the tile.
Her mouth dropped in pure shock, and she wasn’t easily shocked. “Eric. What the hell did you do?”
He looked up at Mina, his face a little green. “Me? Nothing. He was like this when I came in.”
“So you stared at a dead guy for five minutes instead of calling for help?” She noticed Eric’s tie was loosened. His sleeves were drenched with water, and his hair was wet around the edges. Had he tried to wash away evidence?
“I was too busy throwing up.” He looked up at her, wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights. “You have to believe me, Mina. He was like this when I came in.”
The puke smell in the bathroom certainly lent strength to his story.
She moved closer and bent down, studying Wilson’s face. His eyes were wide-open, his expression one of utter surprise.
A pen stuck out of the side of his neck.
If Eric was freaked out about finding a dead body, she had a hard time believing he could make a dead body via a pen strike to the neck. Mina recognized it as the one Wilson had dropped on the table. Crap. The cops would be there soon, and he’d have a rough time convincing them he was innocent.
“Start from the beginning,” Mina said. “Don’t leave anything out.”
Eric’s face tightened with stress. “I came in to meet with Albright and instead there’s Wilson facedown on the floor. I saw blood on the back of his head and the pen sticking out of his neck. I turned him over and checked for a pulse, but he was…”
“You flipped the body?”
He blinked. “I didn’t know he was already dead, Mina. My first instinct was to help him.”
She couldn’t blame him. To her mind, Eric trying to help his colleague spoke more to his innocence. But it could also be said that Eric touched the body on purpose to explain away any DNA evidence. He’s so fucked.
“Crime Scene One-Oh-One. You never touch the body.”
“I'm in deep shit, aren't I?” He slumped against the wall, looking tired and shaken. Mina put her hand on his arm in sympathy. She didn’t feel fear, disgust, remorse, any of the expected emotions. Instead, she felt lust. Completely inappropriate for the situation, but a leiol tended process all emotions through a sexual filter. It just how they were built.
“You’ll be okay,” she told him.
Mina hoped she wasn’t making a promise she couldn’t keep.
Chapter 5
The boys in blue had taken the names of everyone at the event and let most of them go home. Most that is, except Mina, though they did kick her out of the bathroom. They’d taken Eric downtown for questioning. Mina advised him to say nothing and call his lawyer. They’d taken her gun, even though she had a license to carry concealed. She’d been hostile about that, but all in all, she tried to be cooperative. A street cop Mina had encountered several times over the past two years in her private security role walked toward her looking none too friendly. He must have been first on scene and in charge of securing the area.
She put on her biggest, most charming smile. “Patterson. How you doing? Long time no see.”
“Ms. Vail. Why is it that someone is always getting shot or killed around you?”
“Now, now,” she said. “Nobody got shot tonight. Which reminds me, can I have my gun back?”
Patterson grimaced. “I should have your private security license pulled, Vail.”
“The worst you can do is get me suspended. But even that wouldn’t stick for long.” He glared at Mina, and she decided not to press her luck. “I wasn’t on the job tonight, Patterson.”
He crossed his arms and scoffed. “You always bring a gun on your dates?”
“Yes, she does,” a man behind her said.
Mina turned and saw a not-so-happy-to-see-her Gav Doyle. He stood, badge clipped to his belt, his arms crossed, and his hands tightly fisted.
“Detective Doyle,” Mina said.
“Coming to rescue your girlfriend again,” Patterson mumbled.
Gav gnashed his teeth. He was a shifter, and they had really good hearing. Mina raised her brow at Patterson. The man was living dangerously, and he didn’t even know it.
Mina gave him her best professional smile—empty of meaning. “As Detective Doyle said, yes, I bring my gun on dates. I don’t leave home without it.”
Gav moved in between the old beat cop and Mina. “She has a CCW, Patterson. And it was not discharged, so it’s not involved in the crime. Go fetch her piece.”
Patterson’s snide expression sobered as if an invisible fist had punched off the obnoxious grin. “Go fetch it yourself, Detective.” He turned on his heel. “She’s all yours.”
Gav waited until Patterson was out of earshot. “So, what happened here?”
“I already told your boys.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
They stared at each other for a long moment in a match of wills, waiting to see who’d crack first. But it’d been a long night and Mina was too tired to play games. She shrugged. “Mr. Bishop went to meet his boss, John Albright, in the bathroom. I waited out in the hall. A couple of minutes passed. Another man goes in. A few seconds later, he’s running out and yelling. I go in. Wilson is on the ground dead.”
“I thought you said Mr. Bishop went in to meet Albright.”
“A waiter gave him a note,” sh
e said. “He said it was from Albright.” Mina grimaced. Gav was too good of a detective for her to attempt to hide anything. “Eric and that guy Wilson weren’t exactly on good terms. I could feel Wilson’s hatred from a mile away.”
“What about Mr. Bishop’s feelings about Wilson?”
“Nothing. Not even mild annoyance.”
“Did you see anyone else go in or out of the bathroom?”
“Other than the guy with the skunk hair, no.”
“And you didn’t sense anything with your empathic ability?”
Mina pursed her lips and shook her head. “No. The usual emotions associated with murder—hate, malice, fury—weren’t there. That would make sense,” she offered tentatively, “if Wilson was already dead.”
“You know better than to form opinions this early in an investigation,” he said. “I’ll follow the evidence no matter where it leads.”
The disappointment and judgment in Gav’s expression made her heart ache. He didn’t believe her. Did he really think she would cover up a murder? It hurt, more than it should, that he mistrusted her so much. She hated the awkwardness between them. It didn’t help that she could remember the pressure of his hands on her body, the way his lips warmed against her skin, and the way he completely possessed her when they’d had sex.
“May I have my gun back now?”
“Sure, Mina.” He gestured to a nearby cop. “See that Ms. Vail gets her property back.” He rubbed his fingers through his short, black curls. “I’m the prime on this case, and you’re my only witness. Stay available.”
Before she could respond, he walked away. No goodbye. No see-you-later. No kiss-my-ass. Though the last part seemed to be implied. Mina shrugged. She hadn’t felt this defeated in a long time. She pulled her phone out of her purse and made the call she’d been dreading.
When her call was picked up on the first ring, she said, “Hey, Charlie.”
* * * *
Eric sat on the stone bench handcuffed to a metal loop sticking out between his knees. To his right was a middle-aged man with a paunchy gut arrested on charges of “drunk and disorderly” as indicated by the sour booze smell and the slurred speech. On his left, was a young gang banger, homemade tattoos decorating his skin, and wearing colors. No telling what he was in for, but Eric was hoping he wouldn’t find out. Because he was stressed, he was secreting more pheromones than normal. As a result, the gang banger was giving him the “I’m going to make you my bitch” look, and the drunk kept rubbing his face against Eric’s shoulder.
“Can I get my own bench?” he asked the intake officer, a tall man with graying hair. He shifted his eyes to the two men looking at him like candy.
“Shut your hole, mister,” the cop said.
Eric sighed. Going to jail would be a disaster for obvious reasons. He tried to get the picture of Wilson out of his head—those dead eyes staring in accusation. There’d been nothing Eric could do for the man. Wilson had been past reviving. He’d never seen someone like that before, and he found the idea of murder revolting. It might have been cliché, but Eric was definitely a lover not a fighter. And what of Mina? Would she come to the station? Was she waiting for him? Did she think he was a killer?
This was not how he’d planned for this night to turn out.
The drunk’s breath reeked of whiskey and stale beer. A man who liked to mix his poison. He rested his head on Eric’s shoulder. “You shmell nicsh.”
“Uhm, thanks.” Eric leaned away from the man and bumped shoulders with the banger. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, money.” The guy licked his lips. “I don’t mind.” He looked at Eric’s tux. “Nice threads.”
Oh, Jesus. He had to find a way to dampen his mojo and fast.
“Mr. Bishop,” the intake officer said. “You’re lawyer is here.”
When he undid the cuffs, Eric rubbed his wrists and stood quickly. He purposefully kept his eyes forward, avoiding an uncomfortable goodbye with his bench-mates.
* * * *
“Are they crazy?” Charlie asked. “Eric wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
Charlie was all of five-five, sandy blonde hair in a tight ponytail, and curves for days. Mina had envied Charlie when they’d been in high school. She’d been the popular cheerleader while Mina had taken on the role of gothic sasquatch. It had sucked being taller than ninety-percent of the boys in school. Her friend had a kindness streak that often irritated Mina, but is also what made her love the woman so much.
In middle school, Charlie had noticed Mina hadn’t eaten lunch three days in a row. Mina had been desperate enough that when the pipsqueak gave her half her sandwich and all of her fruit cup, she’d devoured it. After that, Charlie brought an extra sandwich, fruit, and drink to school every day. Later, Mina found out that when Charlie had asked her mother for extra food, her mother never even questioned why. She trusted Charlie to have her reasons. Trusted those reasons were good. It was the kind of family they were. The kind of family that Mina feel welcome as a member. And now one of those members was in trouble. She would fix this. She wouldn’t let her best friend down.
She put her arm around Charlie’s shoulders, pushing aside her tied back hair. “I’m trying to figure out if they’re going to press charges or not. They haven’t yet, so that’s a good sign.” About that time, Eric was paraded across the station lobby in handcuffs, escorted by two officers.
Yikes. Not good.
Charlie saw him and panicked. “Eric! Eric!”
He turned and looked at her. His eyes were gaunt with dark circles shadowing under them. Charlie tried to make a dash for him, but Mina grabbed her arms.
“Why is he handcuffed? Where are they taking him?” Charlie cried.
Mina knew where they were taking him—in-processing. He’d be printed, photographed, and then put in a holding cell. She saw John Stokes, a detective, and an old friend. He’d helped her out over the past couple of years, and in turn, when she heard any information that might help him on a case, she reciprocated. “Stay here. I’m going to find out what’s going on.” She left Charlie and walked to John.
“Hey, Stokes,” Mina said. “How’s it going?”
John looked up and smiled. Even with slightly crooked teeth, not quite white from years of smoking, it was warm and infectious. “Hey, Mina-bird. Second time this week at the station. This getting to be one of your regular haunts? Or you just looking for an excuse to see me?”
Mina smiled. A friendly face was a definite plus at this point. “Just looking for any excuse. You know me.” She kissed his cherub cheek. “I was hoping you could help me.”
“What? No how’s the husband? How’s the kid? Just bing-bang-boom, can you help me?”
“Okay.” She grinned at him. “How’s Richie? How’s the kid? Now, can you help me?”
John smiled. “Richie’s doing great. Rachel is four now, and she gets into everything. We’re working on number two with our surrogate now, which you’d know if you ever bothered to accept a dinner invite. And yeah, I’ll try and help. Whatcha need?”
Sometimes, Mina really loved John. “Congrats on the new baby.” She gave him a hug, then put on a serious face. “Eric Bishop. They just took him down for processing. What’s going on?”
The smile faded from John’s face. “That’s Doyle’s case, Mina. You’d better ask him.”
“I don’t think he’s in the mood to answer any of my questions. Besides, I’m asking you.”
“Well…” He hesitated. “I don’t know about this, Mina. Doyle can be a bear. I could get in some deep shit for discussing this case with you.”
She didn’t correct him by saying, no not a bear—a lion. Stokes, much like 99.9% of the human race had no idea about other worlders. “Come on, John. Who am I going to tell?”
John tapped his finger on the counter several times, looked around, and in a quiet voice, said, “Bishop consented to a fingernail scraping.”
“What! Where was his lawyer?”
“Keep it down.” J
ohn rubbed his fingers through his thinning hair. A look of guilt passed over his face. “He consented before his lawyer arrived. It tested positive for blood, Mina. Doyle figures that’s enough to hold him until forensics gets back with their detailed report.”
“He admitted that he touched the body,” she whispered to John. “That shouldn’t be enough to hold him.”
“It is for Doyle.
“Damn it.”
“Yeah, tough break, Mina,” John said.
She nodded and patted him on the shoulder.
“Thanks, John.” She hugged him again. “You’ll let me know if you hear anything?”
“I will.”
“You’re the best. Give Richie hugs and kisses for me.”
John smiled. “Will do.”
A strident voice drew her attention. It belonged to a slick guy in a blue three-piece suit who exuded maximum confidence. He was talking to Gav Doyle, who’d appeared without Mina noticing.
“Unless you plan to formally charge him, Mr. Bishop is walking out with me.”
“I can hold your client for seventy-two hours, Mr. Barnes, without charging him,” Gav told him.
The man, Barnes, pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and said a few quiet words that Mina couldn’t hear. After, he handed the phone to Gav.
“Hello.” Whoever was on the other end caused her ex to blanch. “Yes, sir. I understand perfectly.” Gav handed the phone back to Barnes. Gav instructed the police officer to get Eric. The uniform headed toward the processing area.
“You are not to talk to my client again unless I am present, Detective. Do I make myself clear?”
“I don’t give a shit if your client is related to the president of the goddamned United States. If he’s guilty, I’m taking him down. Do I make myself clear?”
Barnes offered a toothy smile. “I see we’re on the same page, Detective.”
A uniformed officer led Eric into the room and released him to his lawyer. Gav watched them walk to Mina and Charlie, his furious gaze lingered on hers.
* * * *
Barnes had given Eric last minute instructions—like keeping his mouth shut and not agreeing to anything the police asked him until he ran it by Barnes first—and, after, handed him over to Charlie and Mina. It was nearly three-thirty when they got him back to his loft down on the Plaza. Mina had already figured out that their boy was rich and well connected, but his loft, oh man, it was a work of art.
