by Jennie Marts
His eyes took a lengthy tour of Maggie’s body, stopping for a drink around her slim waist and her ample bust.
Hmmm. Maybe not exactly the ‘good’ cop.
He tore his eyes away from Maggie’s bust and turned to Zoey. “You already think you’re gonna need a lawyer?”
Zoey shrugged. “I like to be prepared.”
Although she felt anything but prepared as she followed the detective down the hall and into a room that smelled like stale cigarette smoke and old coffee. A single table sat in the middle of the room, and she and Maggie took the chairs opposite Detective Schmidt.
“I’ll wait for you,” Mac said from the doorway. “I’ve got a buddy that works here. I’m going to try to track him down. Call me when you’re done.”
Zoey nodded, wishing he could stay. Wishing he could sit beside her and hold her hand again. She clasped her fingers together in her lap, trying to control the trembling that was back. How much trouble could she really be in here?
The detective gestured to the recorder sitting on the table. “Mind if we record this?”
She shook her head.
Taking a notebook from inside his jacket, he pressed play on the recorder and narrowed his eyes at her. “So, why don’t we start by you telling me why you killed this guy?”
Uh-oh. More trouble than she’d originally thought. “I didn’t kill him. I don’t even know him.”
“Okay. So, a stranger breaks in to your apartment in the middle of the night, and you pop him. Makes sense to me. Do you have a license for the gun?”
“No. What? I don’t even own a gun. I wasn’t in the apartment when he was shot. I heard him break in, and I crawled out the back window of my apartment.”
“Ahh. So you’re saying he must have shot himself?”
“No, of course not. I don’t know who shot him.” Her answers sounded breathless and confused. Why was he trying to trip her up?
“Look, you’ve got a dead guy in the middle of your living room, and your bed is covered in blood. Something’s not adding up here, and I think you know a lot more than you’re letting on.”
Maggie held up a hand. “All right. Quit bullying my client. She came in of her own free will. Just ask her your questions.”
“Okay. Don’t need to get your panties all in a twist,” the detective grumbled.
“I can assure you that my panties are nowhere near twisted. But you’ll be the first to know if a rotation of my undergarments is imminent.” Maggie’s voice stayed cool and low. “Now ask your questions.”
He grunted and rolled his eyes before focusing back on Zoey. “Fine. Let’s go through the timeline of your whereabouts tonight. We know the victim was shot between the hours of midnight and three AM.”
“More like between two and three because he broke into my apartment a little before two.”
The detective cocked his head at her. “How are you so sure about the exact time?”
She took a breath, thinking about how to answer. She wanted to protect Teddy, but she was also worried about him. She had to weigh the threat of revealing his presence with the possibility that he could be lying in a gutter somewhere bleeding to death. Or that someone had taken him.
Her apartment was a crime scene, and they were dusting for fingerprints so Teddy’s presence would be discovered anyway.
Heeding Maggie’s advice, she just answered the question. “Because I looked at the clock, and it was about a quarter to two when my co-worker showed up unexpectedly in my bedroom and woke me up. He’d been stabbed, and that’s his blood all over my bed. His name is Ted Grimes, and we worked together. He’d been attacked at his apartment, and his assailant had threatened me. He came to my apartment to warn me. Before he had a chance to tell me everything that happened, we heard someone breaking down my door.”
“Did you know who it was?”
“No. I don’t normally have visitors in the middle of the night and if I do, they don’t usually break the door down. But I knew something was wrong, and I believed Teddy that I was in danger. Plus, I heard the two men who broke into my house say that they needed to teach this blonde bitch a lesson and that was enough for me. I didn’t stick around to introduce myself. I just got the heck out of there.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I didn’t have—” Oh crud. If she said she didn’t have her phone with her, she’d have to explain how she had it now. And taking something from the scene of the crime wouldn’t reflect well on her or Mac. “I didn’t have time. And I was scared. I just wanted to get somewhere safe. And I did call Officer McCarthy as soon as I got to my grandmother’s house.”
“And you’re sure you didn’t recognize the dead guy?”
“Yes, positive.” She looked at the tinted window behind the detective’s head and wondered if Mac were standing on the other side of the two-way glass. She took strength in the idea that he was watching and would be waiting for her when she finished.
“I don’t know. Something doesn’t add up here. It doesn’t make sense that some random guys would break in to your house and one of them ends up dead. I feel like there’s still something you’re not telling me here.”
“She’s answering your questions,” Maggie said, before Zoey even had a chance to defend herself. “She told you what she knows, so quit badgering her. It sounds like these guys were there to hurt or even kill her. She’s lucky she got out of there alive. It seems to me that she’s the real victim here.”
Finally. Somebody finally agreed with her.
The door opened and another policeman walked in and passed Detective Schmidt a note. He read it, then looked up sharply at Zoey. “You’re the key witness in the money laundering scam against the Cavellis?”
She nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“All right. All right. So do you think this dead guy was one of Cavellis?”
“I have no idea. I would assume so. Teddy and I were both accountants for the Cavellis.” She didn’t want to reveal that Teddy had uncovered more evidence against them just yet. “Look, Teddy stayed behind to give me a chance to get away, and now he’s missing. I think the other guy must have taken him. He was bleeding and hurt, and you’ve got to find him.”
“All right. I wrote down his name, and I promise we’ll look for him.”
“I don’t have a lot of enemies. And the fact that Teddy and I were both targeted makes me think the Cavellis have to be involved.” She could still point them in the direction of the finance company without disclosing that Teddy had found more incriminating evidence. “And I have received a few threats from them over the past few weeks.”
His demeanor changed to one of concern. “What kind of threats?”
“Just phone calls, really. I turned in copies of the messages to the police in Pleasant Valley. That’s where my grandmother lives and where I’ve been hiding out the last few weeks.”
“Maybe you need to consider hiding out for a few more weeks.” He made a few more notes in his pad. “Do you think you need police protection? We’re pretty short around here, but I could probably get a couple of guys to drive by your apartment a few extra times.”
Zoey shook her head. “No. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Maggie pointed a thumb toward the door. “I’m pretty sure Edna’s planning on having you come back to her house. I don’t think she’s going to let you out of her sight.”
“I can’t go back to my apartment anyway. It’s officially a crime scene.” She looked to the detective for confirmation. “When do you think I’ll be able to get back in my apartment? I need to get some clothes.”
He shrugged. “Who knows? Could be a couple of days. Could be a couple of weeks. It sounds like you’re going to be staying at your granny’s house, kid.” He stood and indicated they were free to go. “You can go, for now. But make sure you stay available, in case we need to reach you with other questions.”
Zoey pushed back from the table, anxious to get out of the stuffy little room.
She’d had enough of police stations. Enough of being surrounded by criminals and questioned by the cops. She just wanted to get out of here. To go back to Edna’s and get some real coffee.
She needed caffeine and a clear head so she could work on how to find the evidence against the Cavellis.
And to figure out what the heck happened to Teddy.
Chapter Five
Mac checked his watch for the third time in the last two minutes and peered down the street.
Where the hell was Pat?
He’d sent Zoey and the dog home with Edna and Maggie a half an hour before, and he now stood on the sidewalk in front of the police station waiting for his old friend to show up.
He’d known Patrick Callahan since they were in high school. They’d both gone to Pleasant Valley High and entered the police academy the same year. Pat had come back and worked on the local police force, and Mac had gone to Chicago. A few years back, Pat had been promoted to Detective with the Denver PD, and now Mac was back at their hometown station. Funny how things worked out.
They’d kept in touch. Not so far as friending each other on Facebook or anything, but they got together for a beer once or twice a year when they were both in town. Mostly they talked about the old times, who they’d seen from high school and what the old gang was doing. They shared a laugh over who’d been arrested or who they knew who had accumulated the most parking tickets.
Thinking back, Mac realized he hadn’t seen Pat in close to a year. Not since he’d been back to Pleasant Valley, and not since Pat had started working in Denver.
The thrum of an engine drew his attention. He looked up to see a navy blue classic Ford Mustang pulling up to the curb with Pat at the wheel.
He rolled down the window as he stopped in front of Mac. “Hey there, you handsome piece of shit.”
Mac chuckled and slid into the car. “How ya doing, Patty?”
His friend shrugged. Half a toothpick clung to the corner of his lip as he grinned. “Could be better, could be worse. What the hell’s up with you? I haven’t heard from you in forever. You don’t call. You don’t write. Then suddenly I get a text that you’re in my precinct, and you need me.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I feel like your “I’m in the neighborhood” booty call.”
“Yeah, well I’m not interested in your sorry-ass booty.”
“Ouch. That hurts. Many ladies seem to find my booty quite fine.”
Mac laughed. “Well, they can have it. Right now, I need you for your connections. I need to interview a guy connected to a case your precinct is working on, and I’m hoping you can go with me to see the guy.”
“Geez, I feel so used.”
“Get over it.” He tilted the air vent toward him. It was late summer, but already the morning was heating up. “So will you help me?”
Pat shrugged. “Sure. Who do you want to shake down?”
“Salvatore Cavelli. He and his brother Carmine run Cavelli Commerce. It’s a financial advisory firm downtown. Or at least it claims to be.”
“Yeah, I know those guys. They’ve got some pretty hefty connections themselves. Aren’t they involved in some money-washing scandal right now?”
“Those are the guys. And I think one of their ‘connections’ ended up dead on the floor of the key witness’s apartment last night.”
Pat grimaced. “Sucks to be him. But what do you have to do with it?”
“I know the key witness.”
“Isn’t she the blonde? I think I saw her on the news. Nice ass? Great tits?” Pat wiggled his eyebrows at him and knocked an elbow against his arm. “So do you really just know this broad or do you actually know this broad?”
Mac shoved his elbow away. “Shut up, asshole. It’s not like that.” But it was kind of like that. He didn’t really know Zoey in that sense, but he sure as hell thought a lot about getting to know her better.
In fact, he thought about her way too much. He was already in way over his head with this woman. He did not need to get more involved in this case or more involved with her. He should just back out now. Drop the whole thing.
He turned to Pat. “So, are you going to go with me to the Cavellis or not?”
Pat chuckled again. “Yeah man, keep your panties on. Let’s go. I’ll call over to dispatch and see if I can find out anything more on your stiff.” He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.
The car was a classic but the engine revved with power. Even though the body was old, it shone with a metallic dark blue paint job and everything inside the car was new and up-to-date. Mac was familiar with a detective’s salary, and Pat must have been pouring every dime he made into this car. Either that, or he recently had a rich relative kick the bucket and leave him an inheritance.
Mac ran a hand across the dashboard. “Nice ride.”
“Thanks. I’ve been putting a lot of work into her.”
“I can tell.”
“Check out this sound system.” The stereo was playing a song by the latest rap artist, and he turned the volume up to somewhere between loud and deafening. The car shook with the reverberations of the bass.
The music, if you could call it that, was punctuated with lyrics about violence and drugs. Personally, Mac would have preferred a little classic rock. But it was Pat’s car, so he let it be.
The drive into the center of Denver took about fifteen minutes, and the traffic reminded Mac of what he liked about living in a small town. Pleasant Valley only had three stop lights in the whole town.
They parked the Mustang at a meter on the street in front of Cavelli Commerce. The firm was on the top floor of a skyscraper, and the sun shone against the tinted glass windows of the building.
Pat’s phone hummed as they walked into the building. He pulled it from the case at his hip and read the text message. “Just heard from dispatch. They’ve ID’d your stiff. His name is James Louchenza, otherwise known as Jimmy Two-Fingers. He’s got a few priors, some petty burglary stuff, but no jail time. And no known connection to the Cavellis.”
Mac blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his head. “Then who the hell is he connected to, and what did he want with Zoey?”
Pat shrugged. “You still want to talk to Cavelli?”
“Yeah. If nothing else, I want to see his expression when we tell him this guy is dead. I’ve only talked to the guy on the phone. It would help to get a read on him in person.”
“I gotcha. Sometimes you just gotta get a cop-sense about somebody.” He pushed the button for the elevator.
“You got a mug shot of the guy?” Mac asked as they stepped into the elevator.
“Yeah, they just sent it to me with the ID.”
“Can you text it to me?”
Pat pulled out his phone. “Sure.”
Ten minutes later, a pretty receptionist in a tight skirt and a white blouse led them in to the office of Salvatore Cavelli. The office was plush in its furnishings, and a state of the art computer monitor sat on the expensive oak desk. Cavelli Commerce seemed to be doing pretty well for itself.
Salvatore sat at his desk and snapped a folder shut as they walked in. Mac watched his face and thought he saw a spark of recognition when Pat stepped through the door.
“Morning, officers. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Denver’s finest men in blue this morning?” He stood and held out a hand, his generous gut threatening to burst free of the single button holding his suit jacket closed. His suit was expensive and tailored, but something about the cut just seemed off.
Maybe it was the shape of the man. Salvatore Cavelli couldn’t have been more than five foot seven, and was shaped liked a barrel. His chest may have once been muscular, but now was soft with flab. Mac put him somewhere between forty-five and fifty.
Pat shook Salvatore’s hand. “I’m Detective Patrick Callahan. And this is Officer McCarthy. We’re just here to ask you a few questions.”
/> That was weird. Pat was acting as if he’d never met the guy, yet earlier in the car he’d mentioned that he’d had a few dealings with him. Maybe he hadn’t made much of an impression and figured Salvatore wouldn’t remember him, or more than likely, Pat was exaggerating his connection to the wealthy financier.
“Salvatore Cavelli. But you can call me Sal.” He shook Pat’s hand, then Mac’s.
Shaking his hand, Mac was surprised at the strength of his grip. “I’m actually with the Pleasant Valley PD. We spoke a few weeks ago about some threatening calls to Zoey Allen, the CPA that used to work for your firm.”
Sal brushed a hand through the air. “Oh yeah—that was all just a misunderstanding. My brother just got a little overzealous—watches too many cop shows on TV.”
Hmm. Maybe he should introduce him to Edna.
“He hasn’t done anything lately, though. I told him to lay off of her.”
“Well, somebody broke into her apartment last night, and he ended up with a bullet in his chest.”
Sal shook his head in regret. “Poor schmuck—did she shoot him?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Yeah. That broad’s a pain in my ass, but I can’t imagine her shooting anyone.” He sat back down at his desk. “I never even knew her name until this accounting fiasco. I mean, sure, I noticed her—who wouldn’t notice a pretty woman working at your firm? But I never even knew her name ‘til this bullshit happened with the audit. And that’s what it is—all bullshit. You’ll see. It’s just a mix-up with the numbers.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” Mac tried to nonchalantly ease into the next question. “Speaking of accounting, we were hoping to talk to another one of your accountants, Teddy—er, Ted Grimes. Nothing major, just a couple of routine questions.”
Sal shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. Don’t want it to seem like I’m not cooperating with the boys in blue.” He picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver. “Hey Megan, can you call down to accounting and see if—” he looked up at Mac, “What’s the guy’s name again?”
“Grimes. Ted Grimes.”
“See if Ted Grimes can talk to a couple of cops.” He paused. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “I guess the guy hasn’t shown up yet and hasn’t called in.”
