“What did you ask of him?”
“To get the investigating officer to keep investigating.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
“Darci?” Jackie said incredulously.
“Okay, I told him if I didn’t get some satisfaction I would write a report that would not shine a favorable light on the Sterling Police Department.”
“You didn’t?”
“Yes, I did, and I meant it. Something’s not right about this, and I’m determined to find out what it is. My contract with Heart of the Matter is up for renewal. I don’t think I’m going to re-up. I need to be here. Kenny had been badgering me to move back. He said I was staying in New York, but I wasn’t living there, because all I did was work. He said I had no life.” A humorless chuckle fell from her lips. “No life. That’s ironic, huh?”
Jackie sighed. “Darci, I think you moving back would be great, but this finding what happened to Kenny…You say something’s wrong and you’re determined to find out what it is. I can tell you what it is. It’s you being too close to this to let it go. Your dearest friend in the world put a bullet in his head. The cops may not be able to tell you why he did it, but there’s no question that’s what he did, and for whatever reason, you refuse to accept it.”
“I refuse to accept it because it—”
“Doesn’t make sense,” Jackie finished for her. “I know.”
“Kenny wouldn’t kill himself.” Darci groaned. She was getting really tired of saying that over and over again.
“I have news for you, Darci. That’s exactly what he did.” Jackie stood from the couch. “The sooner you accept that, the better off everyone will be. I have dinner to cook.”
“I’ll never accept that, Jackie,” Darci said to her cousin’s retreating back. “Never!” Somehow she would find out what had happened to Kenny, and that horse-named detective was going to help her do it.
CHAPTER 3
Grumbling, Steed flipped through the pages of the Warwick file. Investigating a confirmed suicide. Who did Darci Clarke think she was, anyway? Long legs and full breasts came a dime a dozen. Because she had some nationwide celebrity, he was supposed to bend to her will? Hell, no! He slammed down the file.
“Problem, McGraw?”
“Chief Rogers.” Steed slid the folder to the far side of the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Clearly.” Rogers took the seat in front of Steed’s desk. “An attitude like that won’t help with your promotion.”
The promotion. Now he remembered why he was humoring the beautiful walking headache.
“About that, sir. I think it’s asking a bit much for me to placate a grieving woman in order to receive a promotion I’ve already earned. I’m a great cop. I’ve closed every case I’ve worked, including this one, and I’m here. I’ve been here through all the comings and goings, through all the everything. Working long hours, proving myself, doing the job. But this…” Steed tapped the folder on the desk, “this is a waste of my time.”
“No, what it is, McGraw, is a test of your people skills.”
“What?”
“You said it, you’re a great cop, an amazing investigator, but you’re not the most approachable guy in the world. In fact, I’d go so far as to call you gruff.”
“Gruff?”
“You’re monosyllabic, which tells me you know I’m right.”
“Actually, I disagree with your assessment, sir.”
“You can disagree all you want, but until I see differently, what I think is all that matters.” Rogers sat back in the chair, propping his right ankle on his left knee. “Now, how do you plan to deal with Darci?”
“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, bringing the file back to the middle of his desk. If she wasn’t such a monumental pain in the ass, he would probably ask her out to dinner, maybe find out if those full lips were as soft as they appeared. Unfortunately, the lady’s determination to prove her best friend didn’t commit a mortal sin made wanting to get close to her as appealing as getting a shot of the Ebola virus.
“You’re reviewing the file. That’s a start. What else?”
“I called the M.E. over. Since she lives in town, I thought maybe she could drop by and tell me something I can tell Ms. Clarke that will end this ridiculous notion. She’s so single-minded in this, I almost feel sorry for her.”
“I don’t need your pity, Detective.”
Steed couldn’t say he was surprised to find Darci standing in his doorway, but he was surprised at how happy it made him feel. Dressed in a hot pink and orange floral sundress, with her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, Darci looked summertime cool and scorching hot at the same time. One woman should not be this gorgeous. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear you say I’m being ridiculous and you feel sorry for me.” Darci walked to the desk. “Did I miss anything else I shouldn’t have heard?”
Steed clicked his tongue. “No, that’s about it.”
Rogers stood and extended his hand to her. “It’s been a while, Darci,” he said, with a warm smile.
“Yes, sir, over three years,” she answered. “How have you been, Chief Rogers? How is your wife?”
“Ellen is just fine. She’s visiting some family in Charlotte. And what’s this Chief Rogers business?” He clasped her small hand between his big ones. “Call me Martin.”
Call him Martin? Steed sat up in his chair. He couldn’t remember a time he’d seen Rogers so pleasant, and giddy.
“Okay, Martin it is. Daddy asked that I say hello to you.”
“How is Chuck?” he asked, releasing Darci’s hand. “Enjoying that Florida sunshine?”
“A little too much.” She giggled.
Steed sat up more. Darci Clarke laughing? She had a nice laugh, and a smile as gorgeous as the rest of her. She needed to display those traits more often.
“Last week he bruised his ribs playing an intense game of touch football with the neighborhood kids,” she went on to explain. “He’s trying to be stoic, but he’s still in a bit of pain. Mama’s keeping a watchful eye on him. Otherwise, they would be here.”
“Aw, yes.” Rogers’ face lost its happy glow. “I’m sorry it took such a tragic event to bring you home.”
“Me, too. It is tragic, but I’m sure you’re aware of my feelings on this situation.” She glowered at Steed.
“Yes, I’ve heard some rumblings.” A loud clap, Rogers’s “all righty then,” signaled he was ready to leave. “On that note, I’ll leave you two to confer. If you need anything, Darci, anything at all, you just ask, okay?”
“Thank you, Martin, I’ll do that.”
“Think I’ll see you in church this Sunday?”
“Absolutely. Bye now,” she said with a wave and smile.
Darci’s smug grin turned Steed’s stomach. He definitely didn’t want to deal with her right now.
Darci claimed Rogers’s vacated chair. “So, you have any information for me?” she asked.
“Other than the same information you had before you left? No,” Steed answered. “Your friend is still dead by his own hand with the aid of a semi-automatic weapon.”
Anger flamed in Darci’s dark eyes. “You are such a heartless bastard.”
“No, ma’am, what I am is a realist.” Feeling his own righteous anger, Steed grabbed the folder and shoved it toward her. “Look at this!” He flipped the file open. “Go on, look!”
She leaned forward in the chair and peered at the open folder. Her lower lip quivered. Tears filled her eyes.
A stinging stab of regret jabbed Steed in the gut. Maybe this in-your-face approach wasn’t his swiftest move. Face on, Warwick looked asleep, but the left side profile…Those pictures would disturb the sensibilities of the most seasoned of crime scene investigators, but to show them to a grieving friend was pretty heartless, and Darci was clearly shaken.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I thought you should see that, b
ut—I’m sorry.”
“You’re not sorry.” Darci swiped at the tears sliding down her cheeks. “I suspect you thought I would collapse in a fit of hysterical tears and declare your way of thinking as correct, but that’s not what you’re going to get. I understand Kenny died from a gunshot wound. My concerns come in how it was delivered. You can’t shock me into changing my opinion on this, Detective!” She shoved the folder back at him. “I want to know what you’re doing to find out what really went down in Kenny’s house that night.”
Steed hung his head. Darci read him like his preconceived ideas were displayed across his forehead. He wanted her to see things his way, but he didn’t want to hurt her more, and he couldn’t stand the tears.
“Again, I’m sorry, Ms. Clarke. I could have handled that better.” He closed the folder and set it to the side. “I’m expecting the M.E. to arrive at any minute. I was going to ask her to give me a verbal overview of her findings. If you’re interested, maybe you can stick around and ask some questions.”
Darci nodded between sniffles. “I think I’ll do that.”
Steed reached into the pocket of his sports coat. His grandmother had taught him a gentleman always carried a handkerchief. He didn’t feel like much of a gentleman right now, but he was glad to have the pressed piece of cloth on hand. “Take this,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because you’re crying, and it’s my fault. I don’t like to see ladies cry. Please, take it. I promise, it’s clean.”
Steed felt the tiniest bit better as Darci accepted his offering and dabbed the corners of her eyes.
“You know, if you stopped being so unfeeling and impersonal, you wouldn’t have to worry about making ladies cry.”
“In my line of work, you can’t afford to get too close. Keeping a conservative distance keeps you alive and helps you get the job done effectively.”
“I guess that’s true, but you can’t convince me a cop has to be an ass to do his job effectively.”
A knock at the door prevented Steed from commenting on her dig. “You wanted to see me, Detective?” said Dr. Lorene Kellogg, the medical examiner.
“Yes, come in.” Steed made his way around the desk and positioned a chair beside Darci’s. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank—” The woman gasped. “Darci Clarke!” Lorene grabbed Darci’s hand from the armrest. “I watch you all the time. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Steed looked on in surprise. Lorene had been the M.E. for five years, and in his dealings with her he’d never pegged her as starstruck. She seemed too serious to be caught up in celebrity, but she was falling all over herself with Darci.
“Thank you,” Darci said with a wee smile, returning her hand to the armrest.
Steed noted a ruby glow to her flawless brown cheeks, a show of modesty he found endearing and surprising. Darci Clarke humble. He would have never thought it possible.
“Since you know of Ms. Clarke, I guess I should introduce her to you, Lorene,” Steed said. “Darci Clarke, this is the medical examiner, Dr. Lorene Kellogg.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Darci.
“I wish it could have been under better circumstances.” Empathy tempered the excitement that moments earlier had brightened Lorene’s eyes. “I understand you and Mr. Warwick were very close. My husband and I belonged to the health club where he was a member. He seemed like a nice man.”
“Actually, Mr. Warwick is why I called you over,” Steed said.
Lorene took a seat. “Mr. Warwick?”
“Yes. Do you think you can explain to Ms. Clarke the findings from the autopsy?”
“I don’t have a copy of my report.”
“You can use mine,” he said, handing her the file.
Lorene turned to Darci. “These details are a bit grisly, Ms. Clarke.”
“She knows,” Steed said, settling into his chair. He would enjoy being proven right, but in respect to Darci’s feelings, vowed not to say “I told you so” when Lorene finished. “Try and give her the condensed, less gruesome version if you can. We wouldn’t want to disturb Ms. Clarke’s sensibilities more than we have to.”
Darci frowned at him. “Thanks, Detective.”
Lorene fiddled in her purse and produced a pair of glasses she rested on the bridge of her nose. With flowing blonde hair and sparkling green eyes, she looked more like a model than a doctor who dug into dead bodies for a living. But as with most model types, Steed thought she was a bit too thin.
Lorene opened the file and began her summation. “The victim succumbed to head injuries sustained from a single shot fired from a semi-automatic handgun. Findings show the bullet entered at the right temple, traveled through his right frontal lobe, and exited at the left temple where it lodged into the living room wall. The force of the bullet in conjunction with the firepower of the weapon caused what is tantamount to a mini explosion that…”
Darci held up her hand, breaking into the very clinical summary. “Thank you, Dr. Kellogg—”
“Please, call me Lorene.”
“Lorene, I appreciate you sharing these details, but as I told Detective McGraw, the nature of Kenny’s death is not what I have questions about, it’s how the injuries happened.”
“The victim shot himself.”
“So I’ve been told,” she said, taking a sideways glance at Steed. “Explain to me how you know that. It seems Detective McGraw has a little trouble doing so.”
Steed scoffed. Was she calling him dense?
“I don’t understand,” Lorene said.
“It’s simple. How do you know Kenny shot himself in the head? I don’t need to see pictures of after the fact or hear chilling details of how the bullet did its damage. I want to know how you know beyond a shadow of a doubt Kenny shot himself?”
“The burn marks on the victim’s hand and the point of entry of the gunshot are consistent. From my crime scene and professional experience, and the findings from the autopsy, the only deduction is a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”
“Fine,” Darci said, annoyance and sadness apparent in her clipped response. “I guess that’s that.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Steed’s chest tightened. Why did this woman’s tears affect him so? He grabbed her hand as she stood to leave. “Ms. Clarke, please stay a few minutes.”
Darci sniffled. She eyed Steed for a long moment before easing back into the chair. “All right.” She dabbed her tears with his handkerchief. “Five minutes.”
“Thank you for coming by, Lorene,” Steed said, making his way to the doctor and escorting her to the door.
“I was glad to be of help.” She looked over her shoulder at Darci. “Ms. Clarke, it was a pleasure meeting you. Again, I’m very sorry for the circumstances.”
Darci met the woman’s gaze, but said nothing.
“I’ll get back with you when the rest of the test results come back,” Lorene said.
“Thank you.” Steed showed Lorene out and returned to his chair. “You want to tell me what’s on your mind, Ms. Clarke?”
“Are you going to give me a choice?”
He chuckled. “Lady, in the few hours I’ve known you, I’ve learned I can’t make you do anything and would be foolish to presume I could.”
“Good, that’s smart. I need to get out of this cop shop.” She walked to the door and turned around. “You coming or what?”
CHAPTER 4
The last of the late lunch crowd streamed out of Sophie’s Soul Food Restaurant as Darci and Steed made their way in. The smell of fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, and peach cobbler hung in the air. Darci drew a deep breath. How she’d missed Miss Sophie’s delicious cooking. Food for the soul. Her soul was in a world of turmoil. Perhaps Miss Sophie’s peach cobbler could help calm that raging storm, or at the very least help her put what she felt into perspective.
“Have a seat anywhere,” said a young woman behind the counter, not bothering to look away from the tips she counted. “I�
��ll be right with you.”
Darci slid into the red vinyl upholstered booth to her immediate right, and Steed got in across from her. Her eyes darted about the room. Not much had changed about the place in the three years since her last visit to town, and for that she was grateful. Sophie’s didn’t have a lot of fancy decorations: a nineteen-inch color television in one corner, a few family pictures sprinkled about the wall, two ceiling fan lights, and a jukebox she remembered from when she and Kenny were kids. Everything else was strictly for servicing the clients. Five booths, six tables, and a counter with five stools. Sophie’s wasn’t like the fancy restaurants in New York, but nothing beat the ambiance. Miss Sophie made you feel like family, and the food was out of this world.
The sense of being watched ended Darci’s re-acquaintance with the room. When she met Steed’s gaze, he didn’t even attempt to look away. She frowned. “Your mother didn’t tell you it was impolite to stare?”
“Actually, she did,” he answered. “Unfortunately, when I have a hard time reading people, the cop in me has to study the subject until I can get some understanding.”
“An easier and perhaps more effective way would be to ask the subject what she is thinking. I don’t like people staring at me.”
“No? Then I think you went into the wrong line of work.”
“When I’m on television, I don’t know people are staring.”
“But when you’re not on television and they recognize you, I’m sure they do.”
“That’s different,” she said, perusing the one-page laminated menu.
“How’s it different?”
“Because when I feel people staring and it’s out of recognition, they have the decency to look away and not continue to stare when I look back. It is very unnerving to be scrutinized like that.”
“Are you saying I unnerve you?”
“No, you annoy me.” The fact she found him so attractive annoyed her even more.
“Okay. I’ll do things your way. What’s on your mind?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“Lorene explained her findings to you. You can’t tell me you still haven’t accepted the truth behind Warwick’s death.”
Not Quite Right (Indigo Love Spectrum) Page 3
