Martinez, Mary - Classic Murder: Mr. Romance (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Mary Martinez

  She hummed the whole way. When was the last time she had felt the urge to do so? Nothing could stop her happiness. She crossed streets, weaved around foot traffic on the sidewalk, and automatically waited for traffic and lights. The blare of the horns, the curses of the drivers held up in traffic congestion, and everything around her faded to the background of her mind. Her whole body bubbled as if she floated instead of walked. Janice felt on autopilot, not really aware of her surroundings, though somehow her feet carried her in the right direction.

  Almost at her destination, she looked up and barely saw the top of the building as she walked toward it. If she had the time after her meeting with Adam, she’d go stand in line with the rest of the tourists, take the elevator to the top of the Empire State Building, and shout out from the top she was in love. She laughed aloud as she imagined the looks of the other people on the roof of the famous building.

  Standing on the corner of West Thirty-Fourth Street and Fifth Avenue, the building loomed across the street. She looked both ways. It was a Sunday afternoon in the city and the traffic had thinned. The light turned, the pedestrian sign lit up, and she started out across the road.

  An engine roar interrupted her euphoric daze. Turning her head in the direction of the sound, she stared in terror. A car bore down on her. Disbelief and shock rippled along her spine. Where had the vehicle come from?

  Tunnel vision focused her attention on the black car bulleting toward her. With her feet glued to the ground, she felt like a doe caught in the headlights. Seconds later a searing pain sliced through her hip and legs. She sucked in her breath, but the impact when her back hit the windshield forced the air out of her lungs. Her body felt weightless, arms and legs flailed as she hurtled toward the ground. A head-splitting explosion flashed behind her eyes. Pain singed through her body, and then everything went black.

  * * * *

  “Novak, Jones, get in here. Now!” The precinct chief yelled from his glass empire, or so the officers called it.

  Ed let his feet drop from the desk with a thud. “Uh oh, wonder what that’s about?” Ed asked his partner.

  Brandon shrugged. Both stood and walked to the office in dread. They were probably going to get their asses chewed since they didn’t have any new leads on their murder case.

  “Any news on the Westwood case?” the chief barked before either could even take the seats indicated.

  “No, sir. Russo has a solid alibi at the time of death,” Detective Novak informed his boss.

  “What about the neighbor? Did you ever have a chance to question her?”

  “We did, but she wasn’t much help. She said she heard someone out in front of the victim’s apartment, so she looked out the window. All she saw was the back of a plump lady with gray hair holding a bottle of wine,” Detective Jones said.

  “Not much to go on. It will be interesting to see what’s in the autopsy report,” the chief said, then ruffled through a file on his desk. “I have something else for you to work on. There was a hit-and-run in front of the Empire State Building. I want you two to go and see what you can find out.”

  “You’re sending us out on a traffic accident?” Novak responded incredulously.

  “It’s suspicious. One of the officers called in to report that witnesses say it looked deliberate. I want you two to follow up to find out what really happened.”

  The two detectives found the scene roped off and the photographer taking pictures of the body when they arrived. Flashing their badges, they bent under the tape, careful not to bother the crime lab people.

  “Hey, what do you have?” Novak asked the officer in charge.

  “Woman, late twenties, early thirties, no identification found on her. If she had a purse it must have been knocked clear of the scene. I have officers looking for it, but you know how it is. If a transient found it, it’s probably in a dumpster by now. Witnesses say that she was careful to make sure no cars were coming as she crossed the road. When she got to the middle of the street, a parked car revved its engine, swung out, headed toward her, and hit her. Everyone who saw it gives the same description of how it happened.”

  “All of them?” Jones wasn’t sure if he believed that. Usually nothing ever matched.

  “Yup, all of them. See that woman over there?” the officer asked as he pointed to an obviously upset woman standing to the side of the sectioned off area.

  “What about her?” Brandon asked.

  “The woman said she noticed the vic because she was so obviously happy, and she said, ‘You don’t see that often in New York.’ The witness wondered why the woman was so cheerful. Then she said the woman didn’t start across the street until the light turned green. Even then, she looked both ways before stepping onto the street. The witness was shocked to hear an engine gunning, then swerve out of a parking space, and just bowl the victim down.”

  “Thanks, we’ll talk with her and see if she can describe the car,” Ed told the officer.

  They looked over the scene a little more, and then made their way over to the sobbing woman. People around her were trying to calm her down. She would stop crying for a moment and then the tears would start to fall again. They waited for a while longer hoping that she’d be able to settle herself so she could answer the questions coherently. When it didn’t look like that was going to happen any time soon, Detective Novak stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention.

  “Ma’am, may my partner and I have a few words with you?”

  The woman sniffed and nodded. Once they started to ask her questions, she composed herself enough to tell them the same story she’d told the uniform.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of her flying up and bouncing off the windshield. She arced in the air and hit the ground just like a rag doll. The car didn’t even slow down. Just kept on going.” The woman sighed, then put a handkerchief to her nose and blew it noisily. “I was so shocked I just froze. I swear a full minute must have passed before I ran over to check her. I knew I shouldn’t move someone that’s been injured, so I just called 911. Then I waited by her, but she never woke up.”

  “You did the right thing, ma’am. Just a few more questions, then I’ll have an officer run you home.” Detective Jones wrote as he spoke.

  “Don’t you need me to go to the station or something?” The woman looked to Jones then to Novak. “I watch CSI. Aren’t I what you guys call a ‘material witness’? I want to help find the crazy person who ran down the beautiful girl.”

  “I thought you may feel better coming in tomorrow, once you’ve had time to calm down. As long as you tell us all you know now, we can take notes and go from there.” Detective Novak answered her question, and then continued with some more of his own. “I realize it happened fast, but did you get a good look at the car?”

  “It was black and had tinted windows. I remember because I tried to see who was driving. But I didn’t get the license plate number. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Do you know what make or model of car?” Detective Jones asked hopefully.

  “I wouldn’t know. I don’t own a car, so I don’t pay much attention to stuff like that. I hope I’ve been able to help some anyway.” She shuddered and looked away.

  “Arney, could you come here?” Brandon called to one of the younger officers.

  “Yes, sir,” Arney replied when he stood toe to toe with Brandon. The young man was on the verge of saluting. Brandon recalled hearing he’d been military.

  “Could you take Ms…?” He turned to the elderly woman and raised a brow in question.

  “Mrs. Carmichael, son.”

  He turned back to Arney. “Will you take Mrs. Carmichael home?”

  “Yes, sir,” the young man said again, took the woman by the arm, and directed her to his patrol car.

  The two detectives watched him go, then turned back to scout the area for more witnesses. After speaking to everyone who saw what had happened, it seemed the officer was right.
All the stories were almost identical. When they were finished, they asked if anyone had found a purse or wallet that could identify the victim. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been found yet. After advising the officer in charge to contact them with anything new, they made their way back to the station.

  Hanging their overcoats on the hook behind their desks, detectives Novak and Jones laid their lunches down, the sacks emanating an aroma of greasy fries and burgers. Once in their seats before either could get settled and open the bag to eat, their phone rang.

  “Novak here,” Brandon growled and pressed the speaker button.

  “We have a wallet that we think belongs to the victim,” the voice said.

  “Did it have a picture ID in it?” Jones asked.

  “Yes, but the victim’s face took a beating hitting the pavement. We’re pretty sure it’s her. I wanted to call it in to you so you could do some more checking. The coroner just left with the body. Maybe you can match medical records if you can’t find the woman.”

  “What’s the address on the ID?” Brandon asked.

  The officer gave him the street address and the name on the driver’s license they had found in the purse. The two looked at each other and debated whether to eat at their desks or take it with them. In the end, the urgency to find a lead had Ed picking up the bag and following his partner out the door. Reaching in the bag, he grabbed a fry and stuffed it in his mouth.

  * * * *

  Brandon knocked and called out, “Police, please open up.”

  The door on the left creaked open and a head poked out. “She’s not there.”

  Both detectives turned to look at the elderly woman. She regarded them with suspicion. Ed walked toward her, badge open for her to look at and identify them.

  “Do you know where she is?” Ed asked.

  “She went on some fancy weekend vacation with that ‘Mr. Romance’ fellow.”

  Both Ed and Brandon gave a start and raised a brow at each other.

  Chapter Twelve

  Katie took another sip of wine and smiled without opening her eyes. The two women were sitting on the couch, legs stretched out on the coffee table. Their heads were against the back of the sofa, and Oscar was sitting between them with his head resting on his paws. Adam had left only minutes before, and it was just the two friends now. Katie started to feel the warming effects of the wine. She imagined Dottie was also.

  “Your boss sure is one fine man,” Dottie observed dreamily.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “You know I wanted to go on a weekend trip with him. I knew you’d never settle for that. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “I figured. What changed your mind?” Katie asked.

  “You know when I was looking around his office?”

  “Snooping around his office, you mean.”

  Ignoring Katie’s comment, Dottie continued. “I found a list.”

  “A list?” Katie let her head roll to the side and cracked one eye open to look at Dottie.

  “Yeah, it led me to believe that he’s taking women out to see if they fit the list so he can settle down.”

  Dottie had Katie’s full attention. She sat up, set her glass down on the coffee table, and turned to look at her friend. Could this be good news? Katie tried to halt the giddy warmth that spread through her body.

  “Tell me why that changed your mind.”

  “I know you love the man. But since he wasn’t going to settle down anytime soon, I didn’t think you’d mind me being one of his weekend bunnies. The list changed all that. I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m not ready to settle down. Even for ‘Mr. Romance’.”

  “Well, thanks for taking my feelings into account.” Katie couldn’t keep the dry comment from popping out. “I hate to tell you this, Dottie, Adam isn’t going to settle on anyone. I think you’re wrong about what the list meant. What did it say?”

  “I can’t remember. Let me think for a moment.”

  Both women were quiet. Anticipation rippled through Katie’s heart. Would her dream have a chance to come true?

  “I remember the first thing on the list, it cracked me up. ‘First, she’d have to be beautiful’. Then he had in parentheses, ‘I’d have to look at her everyday’.”

  “He said that? Just like a man.” Katie tried not to grin and picked her wine back up and settled against the couch again. “So, what else can you remember?”

  “Let’s see, he and the woman would need to have a lot in common. Something about a good sense of humor and that she’d be a good conversationalist on topics other than herself.” Dottie giggled over the last part of her sentence.

  “Poor Adam,” Katie said.

  “‘Poor Adam’—what do you mean?”

  “Sounds like he’s getting sick and tired of listening to all his women only talking about themselves. He must be bored to tears half the time. Maybe the list is just what he’s going to look for when selecting women for future dates.”

  “Yeah, I guess you could be right. But there was more. I can’t remember the exact wording and stuff. It just sounded more like a marriage list. I’m not going to chance it.”

  “Well, I am.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to marry that man. We’ve worked together for years. Lately, there’ve been little changes in our relationship. Like coming here this afternoon to talk to me. He wouldn’t have done that a year ago.”

  “Good luck to you then. Hold out. Don’t cave in and settle for a weekend with him. If he asks, turn him down.”

  “Well, he hasn’t asked me. I think he values our working relationship too much and thinks if he takes me out, then it will change things. You’re right, though. If he does, I’ll decline, saying I’m not into weekend flings. Then I’ll just make sure I’m always there when he needs me, always where he’ll notice me.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Oh and if I were you, I’d make a point of asking him things about himself. At the office, you know. What did you do last night? That sort of thing. Really act interested. If you know of something he likes, pretend you like it too and start conversations about it,” Dottie advised.

  “I don’t need to pretend. We have a lot in common. Movies for one thing—we both love old classics.”

  “Yuck, they are so boring.”

  “Oh? When was the last time you watched a movie older than a year?”

  “Let me think.”

  Dottie lapsed into silence, looking off into space. Katie could tell she had a long wait, so she took another sip of her wine and thought about Adam.

  * * * *

  “Brady, what’s the hold up?” Adam asked as he shuffled through some papers in his briefcase.

  His driver had picked him up from Katie’s a few minutes ago. Although it was Sunday, traffic was at almost a standstill. In New York, it wasn’t uncommon.

  “Boss, it looks like some kind of accident by the Empire State Building. The road is closed. I just passed a side street so I’ll have to wait until we crawl to the next one, then I’ll turn.”

  “Good thing I brought some work. Well, just do your best. I’m not in a hurry.”

  * * * *

  “So Eddie, what do you think about the victim being out with our Mr. Russo last weekend?”

  “Sounds pretty suspicious to me,” Ed Jones answered his partner.

  They had taken Janice Beeman’s neighbor’s statement, and other than knowing she was going out with ‘Mr. Romance,’ she couldn’t tell them anything helpful. She wasn’t sure if Janice had returned home.

  “Too bad the old gal didn’t know Russo’s name,” Brandon Novak said after a moment of thought. “Ms. Beeman could have referred to her current boyfriend that way.”

  “True, but it’s still too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “I think we need to visit Adam Russo, and not at his office, either.”

  “Why not?” Ed wanted to know.

  “So he doesn’t have anyone to back him up, like his assistant. Let’
s catch him off-guard. See if we can trip him up.”

  “But he has an airtight alibi for the other murder and they weren’t even done the same way. The only thing that connects them is if Ms. Beeman actually did have a weekend trip with Mr. Russo.”

  “Eddie, that’s what we need to find out.”

  Ed Jones followed his partner out, muttering about being an adult and not a kid. He hated anyone to call him Eddie. He had such a baby face no one took him seriously and being called Eddie didn’t help one bit.

  * * * *

  Adam had settled himself on his leather couch and propped his legs on the coffee table, a bad habit for which Mrs. Jenkins always scolded him. No sooner had he flipped the television on with the remote than he heard the doorbell chime. Grumbling about being interrupted when he finally had a little time to relax, he pulled himself out of his comfy position and stood.

  “Yes?” he said as he opened the door, then frowned when he saw the two detectives. “Come in. Do you have news on Cynthia?”

  “No, but we do have some questions on another suspicious death,” Novak stated.

  The two detectives stood in the spacious hallway glaring at Adam, making him feel as if he’d grown two heads. His gut told him their visit wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  “Come into the living room and tell me what this is all about.”

  “I think we can conduct our business right here. Close to the closet, so you can grab your coat when we take you in.” Ed folded his arms, planting himself.

  “What are you talking about? Since you know I didn’t have anything to do with Cynthia’s death and you have no news, why would you take me in?” Adam felt cornered. What was it this time?

  “When was the last time you saw Janice Beeman?” Detective Jones shot the question at him from behind him, where he’d maneuvered himself.

  Adam spun around to stare at the man. He backed himself toward the wall so that Ed Jones wouldn’t remain behind him. “I saw her in Nassau Saturday morning, right before I flew home.”