Scorned

by Andrew Hess

  Rebecca broke the embrace first and walked back to the couch, slipping her Louis Vuitton shoes back on her feet and left the house. Claire didn’t know what else to do. But for the first time in her life, she needed a drink.

  Chapter 8-Ali

  I woke up the next morning feeling nauseous. At first I thought it was because of what I walked in on when I came home last night, or at least what I assumed happened. But you know the old saying; assuming just makes an ass out of you and me. Yeah, this time I was the only one looking like an ass. I would love to put the blame on my partner or the detective from the D.C.P.D. that thinks he’s God’s gift to women. They were the ones that put me in a foul mood. It took everything in me not to tear their heads off last night. Unfortunately, all of that hostility was transferred into an attack that was directed at Matthew. I didn’t even try to let him explain. Once he was gone, I regretted everything immediately.

  As I tried to sit up in bed, the urge to spill the contents of my stomach came bubbling to the surface. Why the hell am I so nauseous? I pulled the covers back and jumped out of bed. A bag of Lays and a bag Tostitos sat by the pillows with jars of salsa and salsa con queso remained next to their chip of choice. The jars were almost empty and so were the bags. Okay, binge eating wasn’t a good idea, but it was the way I coped when I was depressed. I leaned forward to clean up the mess and knocked into the nightstand, tipping over an empty quart of monster cookie ice cream. I couldn’t remember the last time I pigged out on so much junk food.

  A morning run was definitely out of the question. The mere thought of walking made me want to hurl, let alone jog. My stomach must have agreed and remembered what it was like to go for a run with all the bouncing and sweating. That was enough to send me over the edge. My left hand covered my mouth as I rushed to the bathroom. My knees scraped the cold tiled floor as I grasped the sides of the toilet.

  Ungodly noises erupted from the bathroom. I barely heard one of the bedroom doors open or saw the pair of feet with music note tattoos appear next to me. “You okay,” Amanda asked. Her hands gently stroked my back as she maneuvered her way around me.

  Sweat poured down my pale face as it emerged from the toilet. “Just fucking dandy.” I was lucky I could say that before ducking my head under the porcelain rim.

  Water spilled from the faucet splashing the sink. Amanda must’ve turned the water on. She waited until the sickening sounds ceased before pulling me back and applied a cool washcloth to my forehead. When I opened my eyes a small paper cup filled with water was placed in my hands.

  “And here I thought I was the family drunk,” Amanda laughed.

  “You are; I’m the pig.”

  Amanda’s hand wrapped around my arm and helped me back to my feet. Once I was steady, she guided me back to my room. The remnants of my anger filled self-hating food binge was on display in plain sight.

  “What the hell happened here last night?”

  Amanda had been passed out drunk when I found her on the couch. I guess she never heard me arguing with Matthew. “What do you remember from last night?”

  She looked at me as if I had two heads. “I ran inside the house when you dropped me off and…” Her eyes were remorseful. “I cracked open a bottle I stashed under my bed.”

  “How much did you drink?”

  “I-I don’t remember.”

  “What else happened?” There was an intensity in my voice that worried Amanda. She knew something bad must have happened while she was passed out.

  “I was hungry so I went looking for food. Matthew was sitting in the kitchen eating by himself. He told me you were at some crime scene or something. There was still a lot of food left over and he pushed it my way. So I sat down and ate.”

  “And after that?”

  “What’s with the twenty questions?”

  “Don’t worry about that right now. What happened after dinner?”

  “We sat on the couch and watched a movie. Next thing I knew, it was morning and I was still on the couch with a blanket draped over me.” I was relieved to hear nothing happened between them, at least as far as Amanda could remember. “Now you mind telling me why you’re asking me so many questions?”

  The color returned to my cheeks. The word, FOOL, felt like it was branded across my forehead, and now it was time to face the music. “When I came home last night, I found you passed out in Matthew’s arms.”

  “And you thought what? That something happened between us?”

  Hearing Amanda say it out loud made it sound even more ridiculous than when I insinuated it last night. “You’re right; I’m an idiot. I was pissed off because of Rodney and this case we’re working on. I came back here to find you in his arms and overreacted.”

  Amanda flashed a smile at me. “So you thought your boyfriend decided to trade up for the younger hotter Ryan sister?”

  “You might be younger, but I wouldn’t say hotter.” She shoved me and I shoved her onto the bed. We started play fighting and tickling each other until I pinned Amanda’s arms to where she couldn’t use them to defend herself. Once she said “uncle” I let her up. It was the first time in months either of us genuinely laughed and it felt great.

  ************************************************************

  Despite the rough night and horrible, disgusting regretful morning, I opted to shower and get ready for work. The thrill of be back in the field didn’t last long. Knowing I had to work with Rodney and that Thornton guy on the Ambrose case had me wanting to give up the case and hand it over to Rodney.

  The station had a hot sticky feel to it. Every uniformed officer in the building had a few buttons popped open on their shirts to let some of the heat escape. Me being the only woman there, didn’t have that luxury. I could feel the sweat building on my skin as I walked briskly to my chair. The six foot monster that I typically called partner, sat on the corner of my desk.

  “There she is; my favorite partner.” I glared at him but refused to utter a single word. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last night.” This time I didn’t even look at him. “Come on; I said I was sorry.”

  “Move,” I said coldly. “Move or I’ll break your legs.”

  He stood up, towering over me like he usually did, and went back to his desk. “Ali, you gotta understand. It was the only way to get that owner to work with me so we could get something out of him.” I raised my middle finger and stuck it right in his face. “Oh real mature Ali.”

  “I thought so,” I finally said with a smile on my face. “You can apologize by telling me you found something we can use to narrow down our suspects list.”

  “You-you were just messing with me?” I nodded and laughed at the agitation that was cast on Rodney’s face. He wanted to express his annoyance and frustration, but realized I was just giving him a taste of his own medicine. “I guess I deserved that.”

  “Yeah, ya did. Now tell me what you found.”

  “We didn’t turn up anything on the car other than it’s been sitting there since the night our victim died.”

  “That’s enough to keep the case open for a little while,” I mumbled. The last thing I needed was for the Lieutenant to hear me hint at a possible homicide investigation. That’s why I was letting Rodney take the lead. “What did the staff have to say about Mr. Ambrose?”

  “Not much other than him being an asshole.” We laughed knowing how Blake Ambrose was in real life as well as the low life lawyer that put more criminals on the street than the police could arrest. “One of the bartenders said he remembered seeing Ambrose earlier in the night. He ordered two beers and two shots.”

  “Seems like someone wasn’t drinking alone.”

  “Nope. According to several staff members, Ambrose spent most of the night talking with some blond.” I drummed a finger on my lips. Rodney eyed me up suspiciously. “What’s that look for,” he asked.

  “Did any of them mention if Mr. Ambrose paid in cash or credit?”

  “That’s a damn good q
uestion.”

  “Let’s see if your new buddy at the bar can help you with that.”

  Rodney knew I was talking about the owner and frowned at the mention of dealing with him again. “I’ll call Detective Thornton. Maybe he can add that to the warrant for the video surveillance.”

  If looks could kill, Rodney would be laying in a coffin with flowers surrounding him. “Fine, keep me in the loop. In the meantime, I’ll get the warrant to search Ambrose’s apartment.” I flipped through the files on my desk hoping to find something from Fred about the official cause of death.

  “Looking for this,” Rodney asked. He held up a manila envelope addressed in black ink to the Ulster County Police Department; Attention Detective Ali Ryan. “Dr. Woo’s office dropped off a little while ago.”

  I snatched it from my partner’s grasp and flipped through the paperwork. “Official time of death was estimated to be around two in the morning. Cause of death was drowning. Alcohol level was one point two.”

  “So he was drunk. He could’ve stumbled down Route Nine until he made it to the bridge and fell over.”

  “You really think someone like him was going to walk somewhere?” The blank stare on Rodney’s face told me he knew I was right. “I thought so. You need to get those warrants and get his bar tab and the video. We need to know who he was drinking with and who he left with.”

  “So I get to spend all day at the courts and hanging out with some jerkoff while you do what, sit here on your ass?”

  “No, I’ll be digging up dirt on Ambrose and finding out who wanted him dead.”

  “That might be a long list. Half of the suspect list would be filled with police, both active duty officers and retired cops.”

  “No, I don’t think it was one of our own.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Everything about this case was sloppy. This was either an accident or something done in the heat of the moment.”

  Chapter 9-Ali

  Assistant District Attorney Stacey Reed was known as the Superstar Prosecutor. She was one of the best Ulster County had. We were just happy she fought for our side. She was as cunning and ruthless as a mal practice lawyer, only she had the professionalism and respect for the law that made her refuse to bend or break the rules. So it was a shock to me when I entered her office for the first time and saw the décor contradicted her personality. Pink flowers sat in a multi-colored vase on the windowsill. The office didn’t have any of the typical hardwood floors or dark gray colored rugs that lined the other offices. A.D.A. Reed had a soft beige carpet with specs of peach to give it a pop of color. A fruitful fragrance wafted towards the door which manipulated me into thinking I was on some island.

  What the hell? Was this really the office of the star prosecutor for the Ulster County District Attorney’s Office? Was it the office of a ruthless lawyer that defendants feared she would cut off their manhood if they crossed her?

  My answer came in the form of a tall thin woman with short blond hair. She sat behind a cherry wood desk with her hands w folded on top of a stack of folders. “Detective Ryan, what can I help you with?”

  “I’m investigating the possible homicide of Blake Ambrose.”

  Ms. Reed held a hand up to her chest over dramatically. “You mean, someone killed him?” She broke character and cracked a smile. I’m surprised it took someone this long to try.”

  Truth be told, I was too. “Do you know anyone that would want him dead?” It was a stupid question, I know.

  “Who didn’t want him dead,” Stacey laughed. “That man had more enemies than the President.” She looked at me with concern. “You don’t think I had something to do with it?”

  I had yet to compile a list of suspects. But A.D.A. Reed was not someone I thought would come anywhere close to being at the top of that list. “No ma’am.”

  Her eyebrows raised in confusion. “Then why are you here?”

  She was eying me up suspiciously and I knew it would be better to get right to the point. “I need a warrant to enter Mr. Ambrose’s house. His only next of kin was his secretary and she won’t allow us in without one.” I knew the old lady would give me trouble. Here I thought she would come through to help us find her dear boss’s killer. Instead she was making me jump through hoops.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Anything that can help us narrow down our list of suspects.”

  “That’s a little vague detective.”

  “We don’t have much to go on otherwise. His office and his house have been closed off to us thanks to his secretary. Without them, we have nothing but the clothes the victim washed ashore in, a car that didn’t give us much to work with, and a bar that may or may not have caught Mr. Ambrose leaving with someone.”

  “Sounds to me like you have plenty to work with at the moment.” Was she for real? I thought she was supposed to be on our side. I thought she was supposed to work with us to bring down killers, not give someone enough time to destroy any shred of evidence that could lead us to a suspect. “Look, come back when you have something credible, something tangible or at least something specific you’re looking for. Then, I can help you. Otherwise, the judge will laugh in our faces.”

  A.D.A. Reed made a move to show me the door. “Thanks, but I can show myself out.” I slammed the door behind. I was being shut down at every pass. At least when I hunted down the man known as the Campus Killer, the only roadblock standing in my way was my Lieutenant and that was because he didn’t want to believe the deaths were homicides. Now we were sure it was a homicide, but was held back by the A.D.A., a secretary and a bar owner.

  I dialed Rodney’s cell once I left the building. “Hey partner, where are you?” I could hear in music playing in the background and figured he was at Whiskey J’s.

  “I’m following up on our lead from last night.”

  “Did you find anything?”

  “We’re working on it.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, me and Detective Thornton.”

  Great the hot shot from last night was back and talking to the leads I should’ve been talking to. “Whatever; let me know when you’re done. You can tell me all about it over lunch.”

  “We’re going to be heading out in a few minutes. We can meet in a half hour.” I prayed he didn’t recommend Whiskey J’s.

  “Sounds good. You name the place.”

  He mumbled something I could barely hear. Then his voice came back loud over the speaker. “We’ll meet you at Fishbone.”

  Great; that meant he was bring Mr. Personality with him. I was already having a horrible start to my day. Having lunch with a guy who though he was God’s gift to women was about to put me in a worse mood. But whether I liked it or not, Detective Thornton was a part of this investigation.

  I arrived before either of my colleagues. The woman wearing a black t-shirt and slacks stood behind a wooden podium. She grabbed a single menu, presuming I was going to eat lunch alone.

  “How many,” she asked anyway.

  “Three,” I replied.

  The restaurant was mostly empty with the exception of a few employees and a few customers. We walked by several tables with their glossy finish table dressed in a white cloth. I was seated near the bar. The three long shelves of liquor called out to me, tempting me to order just one drink. Believe me, I wanted to. The thought of spending any time with Detective Thornton made me want to down a shot. Being forced to spend an hour or two with him for lunch made me want to down half a bottle. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe he just made a bad first impression.

  The door to the restaurant opened again. Two large men entered and towered over the host. Rodney scanned the room and smiled as he spotted me. Detective Thornton didn’t notice. He was too busy flirting with the young girl. Rodney took a few steps forward and noticed Thornton wasn’t following him. He stepped back and lightly back handed Thornton’s arm.

  Rodney looked surprisingly chipper as he pulled his chair out. He did
his best to contain his excitement and kept his voice down to a whisper. “I think we might have a lead on a possible suspect.”

  That was great news considering I kept striking out. I couldn’t suppress the eagerness in my voice. “What’d you find?”

  “We confirmed our victim wasn’t drinking alone. He was with some blond woman for most of the night. We have a copy of his bar tab and saw him on video.

  “Any idea on who the girl was?”

  Thornton kept silent and let Rodney take the lead. “We haven’t identified the woman yet. The copy of the video was sent to both precincts. It’s only a matter of time before we track her down.”

  Thornton gave a hearty laugh. “What’s so funny,” I asked.

  He ignored me and turned towards Rodney. “Did you notice what our victim did when he walked away from the bar with the two bottles of beer and the shots?” Rodney shook his head from side to side. “Our victim wasn’t so innocent. He added something to one of the shots. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I saw him grab something from his pocket and dripped the contents into the glass.”

  “So he tried drugging the girl he was with?”

  Again, I was ignored. My blood was boiling. If my first encounter with Thornton was just a bad first impression, the second wasn’t any better.

  Detective Thornton kept his attention focused on my partner. “It looked like he tried to drug her, but another woman interrupted their toast. I think she might’ve switched the drinks. Maybe gave our victim a taste of his own medicine.”

  That was a new twist to the story. If our victim attempted to drug his lady friend, and the other woman switched the drinks, then Blake Ambrose drugged himself. It would be impossible for him to walk from Whisky J’s to the Mid-Hudson Bridge in that condition.

  “Were you able to see if he left with anyone,” I asked.

  “Yeah, a brunette,” Rodney replied. “But I didn’t really see her face.”

  “That’s because you were focusing on the blond.” Thornton sneered and mocked Rodney, insinuating he was distracted by how hot she was. “We should look over the videos again, but zero in on the brunette instead of our victim.”