by Mary Behre
“Wait!” Officer Chaz Gareth reached for his gun.
Gasping in surprise, she pushed to her knees and nearly stumbled again. She clutched her belly. “Excuse me.”
The patrolman grabbed her arm, none too gently.
“Lady, you need to wait right here. You’re a—” He cut himself off.
He must have seen the look on her face because he practically shoved her away and sidestepped to clear her path.
Jules raced back to the florist shop. With one hand over her mouth, she tried to stave off the inevitable. As long as no one else slowed her down, she’d make it to the bathroom without mortifying herself by yakking all over the loading dock.
Behind her, shoes slapped the pavement in rapid staccato taps. Someone was chasing her. Assuming it was the young patrolman, she kept going.
“Hey,” a familiar voice called out. “Stop running! Juliana . . . Jules, we need to talk.”
Seth the Cop’s voice penetrated her brain at the same time the normally delicious aroma of sandalwood battered her senses.
Dang and darn!
The scent intensified her need to hurl. Bile rose in her throat. Another spasm wrenched her stomach.
She flung open the back door. The door buzzing swept relief through her system because she was going to make it.
Then he caught her by the shoulders, pulling her to a shuddering halt.
She spun, pushing at the cop’s chest. His beautiful coffee-colored eyes were dark with concern and agitation. She shook her head and gulped uselessly.
Oh, no! Please, God, spare me just a little dignity.
“I’m gonna be—” was all she managed to say. She tried to turn away, but he caught her by both arms this time. She flung her hands against his chest to keep some distance between them, hoping it would be enough.
It wasn’t.
To her utter mortification, she puked all over his tan slacks and black loafers.
• • •
THE APPLAUSE STARTED the moment Seth walked through the front door of the brick police station on Seventeenth Street. Catcalls and whistles were accompanied by a dozen officers holding their noses and pretending to gag.
Dealing with the dregs of society all day, cops enjoyed nothing better than a chance to blow off steam, especially when it came in the form of ribbing a brother in blue.
For that reason, and the fact that Captain Peterson had called him into the station, Seth accepted the ribbing with as much good humor as he could.
“Losers.” Seth made sure to add an over-the-top growl to his voice. “Go bust a felon or something.”
As he expected, they laughed at him and went back to work.
He made his way through the lemon-scented main office. The desks sat two by two facing each other with flatscreen computer monitors on top, back to back. Twenty desks sandwiched into the square office space that consisted of five rooms. The main office, a small room for interrogation, Captain Peterson’s office, and the locker room were connected by doors on one wall. At the opposite side of the main room lay the entrance to the holding cell. Every wall of the station was covered in vintage eighties-style wood paneling. Framed pictures of the response workers raising the flag at Ground Zero, the president, and sailboats hung in frames around the main room.
“Great job getting that witness to spill her guts,” Detective O’Dell called out.
He clapped a hand on the shoulder of Detective Reynolds, who stood with his arm propped on top of the water cooler.
“Good thing it’s now a homicide investigation or he might have made her spew her story again and again,” Reynolds added, then playfully elbowed O’Dell in the ribs.
Both men wore smug grins. Both had been Seth’s partner at some point in the past five years. And both were now partners in the homicide division.
“You’re here?”
Seth turned his back on the idiot brothers from different mothers and found Jones holding an open folder and frowning at it. “I am.”
“I thought you were going home to shower.”
Seth glanced down at his obviously clean suit and back at the younger detective. But Jones wasn’t looking at him. He appeared engrossed in a file. “Whatcha got there?”
“My notes from the crime scene.”
“We’ll take that.” Reynolds reached to pluck it out of Jones’s hands, but the kid was too fast. He closed the file and held it against his chest. His expression all but dared Reynolds to reach for it again.
“We need to talk.” Jones turned to Seth and said in hushed tones, “First, I learned the part of Atlantic in front of the parking lot was closed for street cleaning between four and seven this morning. I found a flyer and contacted the department of sanitation. They confirm no cars could have gone in or out of the lot during that time.”
“Good,” Seth said. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” Jones frowned and lowered his voice even more. “The body in the Dumpster was our tramp-stamped robber.”
“Crap.” Seth didn’t know why he was surprised. “So instead of robbing McGivern’s, they used it as a dump site.”
“Seems so.” Jones frowned then added, “But why trash the place and not take anything?”
“Well, if the vic was part of the gang, perhaps they had a difference of opinion? Maybe they trashed the place to stage the robbery, hoping we’d focus on that and not search for the body in the Dumpster.”
“Maybe, but they haven’t been above taking cheap stuff before. I’ll have the owners carefully review their inventory to be sure nothing is actually missing. I just can’t see the burglars casing the place just to dump a body and take nothing, ya know?”
“Agreed!” Reynolds chimed in. He gestured to O’Dell. “And while you two are searching for jewels that may or may not be missing, O’Dell and I will solve the murder that actually happened.”
Jones pressed his lips together, then turned his back on Reynolds.
Seth ground his back teeth but didn’t say anything, too focused on what this twist could mean to his chances of being allowed to finish this case.
No doubt the case would be turned over to homicide and his chances of promotion would evaporate. Unless he and Jones could convince the captain to let them remain the lead detectives.
Peterson stuck his head out of his office. “Jones, English, Reynolds, O’Dell . . . get in here.”
He disappeared back inside without waiting for a reply.
Seth shared a wary glance with Jones, then led the way past the empty secretary’s desk and into the captain’s office. Two faded blue leather chairs sat opposite of Peterson’s desk. Reynolds and O’Dell all but raced to claim them, smirking at each other as they settled into the seats.
Seth perched on a corner of the credenza while Jones closed the door then stood at parade rest on the opposite side of Reynolds and O’Dell.
“What happened this morning?” Peterson dispensed with pleasantries.
Since he’d been the lead detective on the scene, Seth recounted what happened after he’d arrived at McGivern’s Jewelers. When he explained about Jules vomiting on him, O’Dell and Reynolds snickered.
“What did you do with her?” Peterson asked, as if not hearing them.
“She was covered in muck from the garbage and clearly physically incapable of being interviewed. I let her go home.”
“You did what?”
“She’s my neighbor. I know where to find her.” Going against procedure didn’t endear him to the captain, so he spoke fast to avoid the full brunt of his superior’s wrath. “I have someone assigned to watch her until I can get back there.”
“Are you getting soft? So what if she’s sick? Interview her.” Captain Peterson frowned. “I’d expect you of all people to take this seriously. What if she’s our killer?”
“She’s not our killer, sir.”
“How can you be sure?” Peterson shook his head. “According to the preliminary ME report, the victim died sometime between three and seven this morn
ing. And according to what your partner learned, the street was closed off for cleaning from four until seven. So unless you were with her between three and four a.m.—”
“I was,” Seth answered quickly, then frowned at what it must have sounded like.
“Come again, Detective?”
“I was with her from eight minutes after three until approximately three forty-five this morning. There’s no way she could have killed the victim and dumped her body in the eight minutes before or the fifteen minutes after I was with her.”
“Wow, he’s quick,” Reynolds said.
“Talk about wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,” O’Dell added.
“If you two are done,” Captain Peterson snapped, but his lips were pressed together as if he were stifling a grin. Turning back to Seth, he asked, “How could you possibly be sure of the time?”
“That’s when she was in my apartment.”
“No wonder she puked on him this morning,” Reynolds said with a laugh.
“She was hung over,” O’Dell added with a smirk. “Late night at the bar?”
“She woke me up, assholes. There was no alcohol involved.” I think. Seth glared at his former partners, then glanced to his captain. “The witness was in my apartment last night, then I escorted her home at three forty-five.”
“And you’re certain she was in her home?” Peterson asked with a frown.
“I am.” Seth paused, expecting more questions, but when none came he added, “At most, sir, she’s a material witness after the fact.”
“There’s no way she could have known the victim was in the Dumpster?” Peterson ran a hand over his glistening bald head.
“No, sir,” Jones interjected. “I’d say she had no idea there was a dead body in there when she jumped in. Otherwise, she gave an Oscar-worthy performance in that container. I think my partner is right, she couldn’t be involved in the case.”
Captain Peterson’s eyebrows lifted at the vehemence in Jones’s words.
So did Seth’s. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Jones had a soft spot for the woman.
Pushing on, Seth added, “I’ll interview her when she’s—”
“Able to stomach the sight of you,” Reynolds interjected.
“Feeling better,” Seth finished, ignoring the comment. “Captain, I’ve known her family a long time. I have a rapport with them. I’ll get her story in the morning.”
“Fine.” The captain nodded, then pulled a handkerchief out of his desk drawer and mopped the sweat from his head. “Jones, share your findings from the scene.”
Jones nodded. “The body of a woman aged twenty to twenty-five was found in a Dumpster. Body was in full rigor when discovered. Marks on the neck indicate the cause of death was likely manual strangulation. As you already know, the TOD was between three and seven this morning. Still waiting further findings from the ME to confirm cause of death. Body was found without identification.”
“Physical description? Distinguishing marks?” Peterson asked tossing aside the damp cloth and jotting notes onto a pad on his desk.
Jones continued. “Distinguishing mark was a single tattoo on her lower back near her spine: a green snake wrapped around three red roses. At first glance, the woman appeared to be a brunette. However, when the body was moved, the wig fell off. The vic had shoulder-length blonde hair. She was five-seven. Eye color brown.”
“Have you run her description against the list of missing persons’ cases?”
“Yes. No match. We do know one thing.” Jones paused then added, “She’s a physical match for one of the robbers in the Diamond Gang.”
Captain Peterson tapped his pen against his lower lip. “English, give me your report again from when you arrived on the scene.”
Seth recounted his experiences again. Despite knowing each word moved him closer to losing his case, he answered respectfully. The captain nodded and held a hand up to silence the group as he wrote notes.
Seth’s mind raced. He needed to find a way to keep this case. This was his ticket out. Without it, he would probably have to wait another year or more before being offered another opportunity to take the sergeant’s exam.
“Captain.” Seth waited for Peterson to look at him. “I know this complicates matters, but I believe that Jones and I should have first crack at the murder. It’s tied to our burglaries. I have a meeting scheduled for later today with someone who claims to have inside knowledge of the heists. We’re close to solving the burglaries. I’m positive this murder is tied to it. Just give us a week. We’ll have the burglaries wrapped up and bring in your killer.”
Reynolds bounced in his seat. His ruddy complexion darkened as he narrowed his eyes at Seth. His focus quickly shifted, as did his expression. He turned to the captain and plastered his best bootlicking grin on his face.
“With all due respect to my former partner . . .” Reynolds nodded at Seth. “This is now a homicide investigation. If English and Jones want to continue working the burglary part, that’s fine. But homicide is our division. We don’t need amateurs screwing up our case any further.”
“Sir.” Seth sucked in air between his teeth in an effort to reign in his mounting irritation. “We were on the scene. We’ve gone over every single detail of the burglaries and we know this body is one of our suspects. We need time to solve the case.”
The captain tossed his pen onto the desk then laced his fingers together over his portly belly. “Reynolds, you and O’Dell want the murder?”
“Yes,” Reynolds and O’Dell replied in stereo.
“But you’d be willing to give English and Jones here full access to the crime scene so they could continue their investigation into the burglaries?” the captain asked in an almost bored tone.
“As soon as we’re finished wrapping up the murder scene this morning, they can have at it,” Reynolds answered emphatically.
“Hmmm . . .” Captain Peterson picked up his pen again and resumed tapping.
Seth wanted to argue, but he’d already pleaded his case. If Peterson didn’t give him the case, he’d just have to work it himself. He’d solve it before his brown-nosing ex-partners. Nothing was going to interfere with him taking the sergeant’s exam.
After all, he’d started this case. He would finish it.
Before them.
Now he just needed to get Jones on board. He glanced over at his partner. Determination blazed in Jones’s eyes and then he gave a curt nod.
No mistaking the fire there.
He and Jones were on the same page.
Seth’s heart rate slowed. He hadn’t even noticed it had been racing until the pace decreased. Hope had his temper cooling. He glanced back at his captain.
“Well, in that case,” Peterson said, “I’ve made a decision. Jones and English have one week to solve the murder and the burglaries.”
Seth barely stifled his satisfied grin.
“But, Captain!” Reynolds began to argue.
Peterson held his left hand palm out to silence the outburst. “Not up for discussion. You two are already working five other cases. We’re going to give English and Jones a crack at this.”
Captain Peterson pointed a finger at Seth then swung it back and forth between him and Jones. “One week. That’s it. Solve the murder, recover the diamonds, and bring in the thieves.”
Or else. He didn’t say it, but the words etched themselves on Seth’s soul anyway.
CHAPTER 5
“A NEW TWIST in the Diamond Gang robberies. A body was discovered in a Dumpster this morning by a worker of this store.” The newscaster waved to the façade of April’s Flowers before the camera zoomed back to her. “The police haven’t released the name of the worker, but News Channel Five has learned—”
His iPhone rang, cutting out the live news feed. The screen darkened briefly. “Blocked” appeared in bold white letters on a black background.
Glancing around, he assured himself of privacy, then answered in an undertone, “What do you want?”
“Did you see the news? The body . . . it’s Aimee-Lynn, isn’t it?”
Say her name louder, you asshole. Maybe someone will hear and nail us for this.
“Yes,” he hissed, then winced as the fool cursed in an octave unnatural for a grown man.
As much as he wanted to tell the imbecile to get over it—she got what she deserved—he couldn’t. He needed the man’s help a little longer.
“We have another problem. They knew each other. How else would shop girl have found her?” He didn’t dare say Aimee-Lynn’s name. He wasn’t alone and couldn’t risk someone overhearing him mentioning it. He lowered his voice to barely a whisper, “Word is she had shop girl’s cell. How’d she get it?”
“I don’t know.” His partner paused, then asked, “You think Aimee-Lynn told the flower shop girl about the gems?”
“Perhaps,” he replied. “Or gave them to her. Either way, the new girl might be our best lead.”
Two people strode toward him. He bowed his head and stepped out of their way. Moving away from the crowd toward the shadows, he added, “Follow her and find them. Before I have to do something else you’ll regret.”
• • •
“YOU DON’T NEED to come back in today, Juliana.” April’s voice sounded strained through the receiver. “I’m heading out with Ernie. We’ll be gone most of the afternoon. Diana’s running the store. The locksmith just left April’s Flowers. The super is out of town until Wednesday. I left a message but he said he’d change the locks when he returned. Cheap jerk won’t pay for a locksmith and threatened to charge us if we changed it ourselves. Just keep my apartment key since I won’t need it in Florida. Tonight, I’ll give you a copy of one of the new shop keys. Don’t feel obligated to come back right now. I want you to take care of yourself and rest.”
“I’m fine really.” Jules hated to hear the worry in April’s tone. “A shower and a nap were all I needed. I feel much better. Besides, I promised I’d review the upcoming bookings before you left.”
“We can do that tomorrow.” April paused, then added, “Or I can always put off the trip by a day or two.”
“No, don’t do that.” Jules shook her head even though no one could see her. Grabbing a brush, she ran it through her hair with one hand while holding the cordless telephone with the other. “I’m coming in. Leave my key with Diana and I’ll get it from her. Trust me, I’m rested. I’ll review the bookings this afternoon and be ready to talk to you tonight if need be. You don’t need to postpone your trip. Tell Diana I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Bye.”
