Killing Her Softly

by Beverly Barton

  God, how he wanted to turn back the clock and-—and do what? Decline Lulu's offer to come to Memphis? Arrive at Lulu's house in time to stop her killer?

  He flopped over and glanced at the digital bedside clock. Four forty-three.

  Lulu had loved life about as much as anybody he'd ever known. There wasn't anything she wouldn't try, at least once. At twenty-seven, she'd had her whole life ahead of her. Marriage, kids, divorces and more marriages and divorces. Quinn laughed quietly to himself, remembering Lulu and the fun times they'd had. She'd been his female equivalent. Unkind people called her a whore. Those who knew her well thought of her as a free spirit. She enjoyed men in the same way he enjoyed women. Their rules of encounter were pretty much the same. No holds barred. Everyone was fair game. No commitments. No promises. Sex for the sake of sex. And love was never involved. Love was for fools. And Lulu had no more been a fool than Quinn. She knew the score.

  Had she gotten herself involved with someone who had refused to play the game by her rules? Had someone decided that if they couldn't have Lulu exclusively, then no one could have her?

  If the police concentrated all their efforts on proving he killed Lulu, then the real killer might escape. He couldn't let that happen. He would not only find a way to prove his inno­cence, but he'd also move heaven and earth to bring Lulu's murderer to justice.

  Chapter 3

  Mary Lee Norton cried out with release when her climax exploded inside her. She was a screamer. Something he liked in a woman. He never wondered with Mary Lee whether or not he'd satisfied her. He'd heard that women in their mid to late-thirties were in their sexual prime and from his experi­ence with older women, he'd found that to be true. It was certainly true of his partner's ex-wife. The woman had an in­satiable hunger for sex.

  Chad grasped her hips and tossed her off him and over onto her back, then delved deep and hard seeking his own release. Within a couple of minutes, he came. Groaning with the headiness of satisfaction, he slid off her damp body and onto the bed. She cuddled against him and kissed his shoul­der.

  "You're good sugar pie," she whispered in a husky, Southern drawl that hinted she was a heavy smoker.

  Turning to her, he smiled as he noted the faint lines that edged her hazel eyes. At thirty-seven, she was still a looker, but give her a few more years and a couple of decades of smoking and sun worship would catch up with her. By the time she was forty-five, she'd need a face-lift. Of course, what she looked liked a few years down the road was no concern of his. Mary Lee was a temporary fixture in his life, a brief liaison that had to end before Jim Norton found out his partner was bonking his ex-wife.

  "Am I as good as your ex?" he asked and could have kicked his own ass for letting his insecurity show.

  Usually Chad was confident. Some said over-confident. And about most things he was. After all, why shouldn't he be? He was highly intelligent, good-looking, the ladies loved him and he was moving up fast in the department. But ever since he'd been paired with Jim Norton, he'd had a few mo­ments of self-doubt. Without consciously doing anything to cause the effect, Jim intimidated the hell out of other guys. Even Chad. And why that was, he didn't know for sure. After all, Norton was nothing more than an ex-jock who'd nearly ruined his life and his career before Chad had graduated from college.

  Mary Lee curled herself around Chad like a purring kit­ten and laughed as she ran her fingernails up and down his chest. "Comparing you to Jim is like comparing apples to oranges, sugar."

  He grabbed her by the nape of her neck, trapping a few strands of her short black hair between his fingers. "Are you screwing him, too? Everybody knows that he's still got a thing for you."

  "So I've been told but you can't prove it by me." She stared right at Chad. "I've made the offer more than once since our divorce, but he hasn't accepted."

  "He must be nuts to turn you down."

  "Jim's unforgiving," she said. "I'm warning you, if you ever do anything to get on his shit list, you'll be on it for life. He doesn't forgive and he doesn't suffer fools gladly."

  "So, what'd you do that was so unforgivable?"

  Mary Lee pulled away from him, reached over on the nightstand and picked up a pack of cigarettes. He watched her as she lit the cigarette and took a couple of draws off it. After blowing out a puff of smoke, she grinned at him. "I got tired of being ignored, of him working all the time. I looked elsewhere."

  "And Jim found out."

  "Jim caught us in the act. He came home unexpectedly and found our son's T-ball coach scoring a home run with me."

  "What'd he do? Beat the hell out of the T-ball coach?"

  "You'd think that's what a rough and rugged guy like Jim would do, wouldn't you?" She shook her head then puffed on the cigarette. "He just stood there in the doorway for a couple of minutes. Didn't say a word. Then he turned around and walked away, right out of the house, and got back into his car and drove off."

  "I'd never peg Jim for—"

  She put her index finger over his lips to silence him. "You don't know the man at all, do you? He left so he wouldn't kill us. He wanted me dead just as much as the guy I'd been fucking. And I figure there was about a minute there when our lives hung by a thread. But Jim has incredible self-control. That's why he could walk away."

  "Hmm. . ."

  "Surely you've heard the rumors, haven't you? Jim Norton believes in the old adage about revenge being a dish best served cold."

  A shiver zinged up Chad's spine. Yeah, he'd heard the ru­mors. And if he believed them, like others in the department did then he knew what Norton was capable of doing. He sensed that Mary Lee admired her ex-husband maybe still even cared about him. And he also sensed that if she were to­tally honest about which man was the best—at sex or any­thing else—she'd choose Lieutenant James Norton over him or any other guy.

  Needing to erase such thoughts from his mind and bring back the casual mood Chad jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, keeping his hand over the sagging condom clinging to his penis. He paused in the doorway and glanced back at his partner's ex-wife. "I've got to shower and shave, then get downtown and meet Jim. We're questioning a mur­der suspect this morning and I don't want to be late."

  "Go ahead." She waved him off as she got out of bed. "Want me to put on a pot of coffee?"

  Standing there in his bedroom, naked tousled and sated, Mary Lee Norton got a rise out of him. A partial rise any­way. If he had time, he'd toss her back into bed and—Another time, he told himself. It wasn't as if he couldn't have Mary Lee anytime he wanted her. The lady was defi­nitely hot-to-trot.

  "I'll grab a cup at headquarters," he told her as he re­moved the used condom and dumped it in the wastebasket "But feel free to fix yourself a pot and hang around as long as you'd like."

  She didn't respond, so he had no idea what she'd do. By the time he had showered shaved and dressed he found the house empty. Mary Lee had left a note attached to the refrig­erator with a magnet.

  You're as good as he is, just different.

  She'd scrawled her initials beneath the succinct note.

  Chad grinned. He'd be seeing the lady again. Soon. And he'd make damn sure and certain her ex-husband didn't find out.

  Quinn nibbled on the high protein bar Kendall had pro­vided along with a cup of coffee. The coffee was good— black and strong, the way he liked it. The protein bar tasted like cardboard coated with cheap chocolate. He preferred his breakfast protein in the form of steak and eggs. At home and when out of town on a case, his routine seldom varied. He was accustomed to having his needs met by a small con­tingent of well-paid employees, who traveled with him. After the McBryar acquittal yesterday, he'd sent his entourage back to Houston, expecting full well to be on a plane back home no later than Monday morning. Those plans had been made when he'd thought he would be spending the weekend with Lulu.

  "I've got some low-fat wheat bread" Kendall said. "I could fix you some toast."

  He glanced at Kendall, who sat on the bar
stool next to him at the kitchen counter. How was it possible that she looked so awake and refreshed at seven-twenty in the morn­ing, when it had been nearly three when they'd finally gone to bed. Her tan suit fit her to perfection and matched her heels and the clutch purse lying at the end of the counter alongside her burgundy leather briefcase. Everything about her was perfect, from her stylish short hair to her subtle makeup.

  "Don't bother. I'm not hungry." He laid the bland protein bar atop his napkin and lifted the coffee cup to his lips.

  "Did you get any sleep?" Kendall asked.

  "Some," he lied. He hadn't slept at all. Only dozed a cou­ple of times.

  "Do I need to remind you to think like a lawyer this morning when you're questioned and not like a suspect in a murder case?"

  "Be calm, in control and logical," he replied. "Don't get emotional. And remember when to let my lawyer talk for me."

  "Good boy."

  "Honey, I've never been a good boy in my entire life." Quinn Cortez had been a lot of things, to a lot of people, but being a good boy wasn't one of them. As far as he was con­cerned goodness was overrated. He preferred being rich, being powerful and being a winner. Maybe he'd sacrificed some important things along the way on his road to success, but he had to admit that if he had it to do all over again, he wouldn't change a thing.

  Not unless he could go all the way back to the beginning when Rico Cortez had married Sheila Quinn because he'd gotten her pregnant, then conveniently disappeared a few month's after his son's birth.

  Kendall laughed. "I happen to like your cockiness, but how about downplaying it just a little this morning. And for God's sake, act a little broken-up about Lulu Vanderley's death, will you?"

  "It won't be an act," Quinn said. "Not entirely. I'm not all broken-up, but. . . I want to make sure whoever killed Lulu is caught and punished."

  "Finding the real murderer will get you off the hook."

  "I want to see to it that her murderer pays for what he did. And not just for selfish reasons, but because Lulu didn't de­serve to die." Quinn slammed his half-full cup down on the counter, splashing the black liquid onto his hand. He reacted to the heat instantly, raised his hand and rubbed it across his mouth.

  "You really liked her, didn't you?" Kendall reached over and patted Quinn's arm.

  He cut his eyes toward her. "Do you find that amazing— that I'd actually like a woman who's my lover?"

  "No." Kendall gazed at him contemplatively. "What I find amazing is that you'd actually like a woman, any woman."

  "What the hell do you mean by that? I love women. All women. You should know that, honey. Ask anybody who knows me and they'll tell you that Quinn Cortez is a ladies' man."

  "You may love women—all women—but you don't like them as a general rule. If you liked women, you wouldn't treat them the way you do."

  "I've never had any complaints." The flip response shot out of his mouth instantly.

  "I'm sure no woman has ever complained about your prowess as a lover," Kendall told liim. "But what about all the hearts you've broken? Don't you think there are dozens of women out there who would love to see the great Quinn Cortez brought to his knees and begging for mercy."

  "I thought you said that I didn't hurt you, back when we—"

  "This isn't about me. It's about your reputation. Don't you realize that if Lulu told just one person that she wanted more from you than a passionate fling, the police could build a case around that fact—that she was clinging to you and you couldn't shake her without killing her?"

  "Lulu never once said she wanted more from our rela­tionship."

  "She didn't say that to you, but can you be one hundred percent sure she never implied to anyone else that she was in love with you or wanted a committed relationship?"

  Quinn slid off the bar stool and stood. "I can't be certain of what she might or might not have told someone else. But I'm telling you that Lulu wasn't looking for a permanent re­lationship with me or anybody."

  "I hope her family and friends will verify that fact." Kendall bit off a chunk of protein bar, chewed and washed it down with coffee.

  "Lulu's family. . ." Quinn groaned. "I'd forgotten all about them. She has an elderly father and a half brother over in Mississippi somewhere. The old man still runs the Vanderley empire, with the help of a cousin. I can't recall the cousin's name. Abigail or Adelaide or something like that. I can hear Lulu saying, Abi. . . Adel—Annabelle.. .'That's it, Annabelle. She'd say, Annabelle is a real saint, a true martyr. I love her like a sister, but God she's such a bore.' I suppose the Memphis police notified—"

  Kendall stood put her arms around Quinn and hugged him. "Don't consider it a weakness to allow Lieutenant Norton and Sergeant George to see this I-actually-do-give-a-damn side of your personality."

  Quinn stepped back and looked directly at Kendall. "You think they're going to charge me with Lulu's murder, don't you?"

  "I think that if they don't find another suspect and they can come up with the least bit of evidence against you, no matter how circumstantial, they just might try to pin this on

  On the way to the Criminal Justice Center, Jim Norton sipped on a container of black coffee as he maneuvered his seen-better-days Chevy truck along Poplar Avenue. He'd downed a cup of the high octane brew before he left his apartment in the Exchange Building, right after wolfing down a bowl of corn flakes. The alarm clock had gone off at six-thirty, but he'd hit the snooze button twice. He'd gotten all of maybe four hours sleep. He'd tried to get in touch with his ex-wife last night without any luck. He didn't really give a damn where Mary Lee was or who she was with, but he sure as hell wanted to know where his son was. Spending the night with a friend again? Whenever Mary Lee needed to scratch an itch, she'd send Kevin to a friend's for the night.

  He could complain. He had in the past. But Mary Lee had pointed out to him that he was lucky she didn't have sole custody. "What if you didn't even have visitation rights?" she had asked him when he'd suggested she let him keep Kevin whenever she had a date. "All things considered you're lucky I let you see Kevin as much as I do. After all, if I hadn't agreed to your getting some visitation rights—"

  He'd just call her again later this morning—or at least try to—to make sure she hadn't forgotten that he was supposed to pick up Kevin this evening and keep him until Monday morning. He'd made plans for them to spend tomorrow with his sister Susan's family. Kevin enjoyed spending time with his three cousins, twin boys only a year older than he and a girl two years younger. Jim liked the idea of his son seeing

  what a real family was like. That's what he'd wanted for Kevin—that ail-American, mom-and-apple-pie life he and Susan had had as kids. But both he and Mary Lee had fucked up big time. And now, thanks to them, Kevin would never have what Jim had wanted most for his son.

  He could blame it all on Mary Lee. And sometimes, espe­cially when he'd had too much to drink, he did blame it all on her. But when completely sober and in the cold light of day, he knew he had to accept his share of the blame. Way back when he'd been a young hotshot with great ambition, he had neglected his wife and son. His arrogance and cocki­ness had gotten his partner killed had put him in the hospital and had landed him in a heap of trouble with the department. By the time he'd healed physically and emotionally, he'd al­ready lost his wife, even if they didn't divorce until nearly three years later.

  After pulling into his parking place and releasing his safety belt, Jim removed his cell phone from its holder and hit the button that instantly dialed his ex's home phone num­ber. Much to his surprise, she answered on the fifth ring.

  "Mary Lee?"

  "Yeah. Who were you expecting, the Queen of Sheba?"

  "I tried calling last night."

  "I had a date."

  "Stayed out kind of late didn't you?"

  She laughed. "I stayed out all night. Just got in."

  If she thought telling him she'd spent the night with some guy would bother him, she was wrong. He had actually given
a damn that she screwed another guy only one time. The time he'd caught her in the act. After that, she could have done it with every guy in Memphis for all he cared. He just hated that Kevin's mother had gained a reputation as a. . . as a what? A slut who'd spread her legs for just about any guy?

  Mary Lee had always been a little wild and God knew she hadn't been a virgin when they got married but he hadn't cared. He'd been crazy about her. Hog-wild crazy. And she'd loved him, too. He knew she had.

  "I just wanted to remind you that I'll be picking Kevin up at six-thirty this evening," Jim said. Now wasn't the time to get into it with Mary Lee about Kevin spending too many nights at other people's houses.

  "He'll be ready. He's been looking forward to seeing you."

  "Yeah, me, too."

  "Jim?"

  "Huh?"

  "I saw in this morning's Commercial Appeal where you and your partner are working the Lulu Vanderley murder."

  "Yeah."

  "Lulu Vanderley was somebody real important, wasn't she? If you solve this one and bring her killer in, it sure won't hurt your career, will it?"

  "I don't worry as much about my career as I used to," he told her.

  "You don't worry as much or care as much about a lot of things."

  "That's the way life is." He took a deep breath. "Tell Kevin I'll see him at six-thirty."

  Before giving Mary Lee a chance to say anything else, Jim hung up. One of these days he'd be able to have a con­versation with his ex and not think about what might have been. "If only" was a game for idiots.

  Annabelle emerged from her white Cadillac, hoisted her leather bag over her shoulder and took a deep, calming breath. On the drive over from Austinville, she'd made a dozen phone calls, using her On-Star system, which made phoning while driving an easy, risk-free task. She'd spoken to the president and two vice presidents at Vanderley, Inc., and helped their top PR person word a press release about Lulu's murder. She'd also spoken to her uncle twice and it had broken her heart to hear the sound of his weak, trembling voice. Knowing that Dr. Martin had arranged for nurses to be at Uncle Louis's side twenty-four/seven gave her some comfort.