CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CODY CLOSED THE Johnsons’ front door behind him, then turned the dead bolt with a soft snap that sounded deafening inside the marble foyer. Wall mirrors on either side of him reflected his body into infinity.
What would happen to his career if Coral Gables police showed up and discovered him inside this house with Merlene? How would he explain his actions?
No doubt he’d be talking to Internal Affairs for a long, long time.
He paused and listened, but the house remained quiet. Where was she?
“I ought to arrest you for breaking and entering,” he shouted.
His response came as a relieved exhalation to his left. Of course, she wouldn’t know who had followed her inside. He nodded. Served her right. Merl deserved a good fright.
Holding up a brass key, she emerged from the kitchen, gray eyes wide. “I didn’t break in. You know I have a key.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Merlene?”
“Looking for clues,” she said, moving into the center of the dining room. She extended both arms forward as if gripping a gun. “If someone stood right here, they couldn’t be seen from the front door.”
“Someone? You mean Pat?”
Merlene faced him, still pretending to aim a weapon. He searched her face. Did she want to shoot him?
“Isn’t that what you think?” she asked.
He stared at her. “That’s one theory.”
“Do you have another?”
“I want to hear yours.”
“When the two con men arrived, she could have sprung from hiding and shot her husband.”
“The gunshot wound was to the chest.”
She lowered her arms. “Maybe he heard her and turned.”
“Come on,” he said, taking her elbow. “Let’s get out of here before Pat returns home.”
Merlene jerked away as if his touch burned. Her rejection hurt more than he liked to admit.
“There’s no rush,” she said. “D.J. will let me know the minute Pat gets in her car.”
“D.J. knows what you’re doing?”
She lifted her chin and glared at him. “He wants to help prove I’m innocent.”
“And so do I,” Cody said. “Even so, you’re in here illegally.” He wondered if D.J. knew exactly what Merlene’s plan had been.
“Can’t we just take a quick look around?” she asked. “We’re already here.”
Cody hesitated, the idea of a search tempting. It was something he’d never have considered before meeting Merlene. “Nothing we find will be admissible.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Merlene said with a wave of her hand. “But when will we ever have a better opportunity to hunt for leads?”
“I can’t f-ing believe this,” he mumbled. Was he really having this conversation with Merlene at the scene of Dr. Johnson’s murder?
She placed her hands on her hips. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
He smothered a smile, thinking she looked anything but intimidating. Damn, but he’d missed that stubborn attitude.
“All right. You keep a watch on the front door, and I’ll search.”
“But—” she started to protest, then glanced into the foyer. She reached into a pocket, withdrew a pair of latex gloves and tossed them to him.
“Look for anything with the name ‘Lanier Flyers.’”
Already hurrying into a room with file cabinets and dark wood furniture, he paused and shot Merlene a look. “Lanier Flyers?”
She leaned into the door and motioned him away. “Hurry up. We don’t have much time.”
“Let me know the minute your phone rings.”
She made a quick X on her chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Lanier Flyers. Don’t forget.”
He pulled on the gloves and thoroughly searched Dr. Johnson’s office, finding nothing with the name Lanier on it. Nothing interesting at all. In the master bedroom, while rifling through a bedside stand, he remembered he’d fished once on a Lake Lanier, north of Atlanta. What connection could that have to this case? He wasn’t letting Merlene out of his sight until he knew.
They hurried out the front door without speaking. Although he could tell she was bursting with questions, they had to wait. Merlene locked the door behind them and got into her car while he slid behind the wheel of his. When she pulled out of the Johnson driveway, she gave him a little wave, as if to say, “See ya later.” Yeah, right.
He followed her down Granada and stayed behind her vehicle when she turned onto Bird Road. She was probably on her way home. He hoped so... He liked being with Merlene in her home. They could talk there whether she liked it or not.
Hell, he liked being with her no matter what. Even when making an illegal search. With a cell phone plastered to her ear, she drove well below the speed limit. Cody figured she’d checked in with D.J. after his warning.
He’d have to quit underestimating Merlene. His gut told him she’d dug up some interesting information. Could he trust her? He knew she had nothing to do with Johnson’s murder, but had she sold the video to Channel Eight? Maybe not. The recording hadn’t been aired on the news yet. Why would Vanessa Cooper wait?
He wanted to trust Merlene, but every time he did she proved him wrong and broke his heart all over again.
* * *
WHEN MERLENE PULLED INTO her driveway, she heard the crunch of Cody’s tires behind her on the gravel. She supposed she should have expected him to follow her all the way home. They’d reached some sort of truce. Would he want to come in and talk? She heard his car door open and received her answer.
But did she want to talk? What good would that do?
She moved to the porch and unlocked the door. Towering over her, his face impassive, Cody pushed through. “I’m coming in.”
“I can see that,” she murmured, her gaze following his broad back into her living room.
“Tell me about Lanier Flyers,” he said before she’d secured the dead bolt.
“Did you find something with that name?” she asked, her hopes shooting skyward.
“Nothing,” he said. “Who are they?”
Disappointed, she crossed the room and retrieved a manila file from her glass-topped desk. Time he knew about the charter flight. She opened the file and handed him the surveillance photos of Pat Johnson.
“I showed these photographs to small charter outfits at airports all over South Florida. Yesterday I found a man who remembered Pat departing Old Cutler Airport around two o’clock the morning of August twenty-third.”
“What?” The muscle in his jaw twitched as his blue eyes drilled into her face.
Her stomach churning under his disbelieving stare, she handed him a copy of the information and moved away. “Pat chartered a Learjet from Lanier Flyers in Gainesville, Georgia. The pilot’s name is there, too.”
Shuffling through the papers, Cody asked, “Did you tell Rafael about this today?”
“No.”
He looked up. “Why not?”
“What’s the matter, Cody?” she asked softly. “Are you afraid I’m going to demand some sort of payment for the information?”
“Stop it, Merl.”
“Or do you think I’m lying about the charter flight, too?”
“I believe you.” After a pause he said, “And I know you weren’t involved in Johnson’s murder.”
“Since when?”
“I never truly believed you were involved.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not the way you acted.”
“Fair enough. I admit my lieutenant created some doubts, and when you withheld the video... But I know you, Merl.” He gave her a slight smile. “You don’t have murder in you.”
She caught her breath at his intimate, husky
tone and looked away, not wanting to reveal her raw emotions to him. Did he really believe her?
“Is this enough to arrest Pat?”
“I’ll have to pass it by Montoya,” Cody said. “The prosecutor will make the final decision.”
“Aren’t you even going to question her?” She shot him a quick glance.
“We don’t want her to know she’s a suspect. Not yet. She could run.” After another long moment he said, “I’m glad you didn’t.”
“You thought I’d make a run for it?” she demanded. “God, Cody. What happened to believing in me?”
He sighed. “I didn’t know what to think.”
Merlene paced the room, her thoughts tumbling. “And I don’t know whether to be furious or sad that you think so little of me.”
He raised his arms and dropped them. “I’m sorry.”
She stopped moving and glared at him. “Was that an apology for thinking I’m a murderess?”
“Yes.”
“I have no reason to run.”
“I know that. I was angry for other reasons—out of line.”
“You got that right.” She glanced down, away from the uncertainty stamped all over his face. Without trust they could be nothing to each other.
She swallowed hard, unsure where they could go from here. “Keep me informed, okay?”
“Sure. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
She nodded, still examining her sandals, wishing his opinion of her wasn’t so important.
“Look, Cody, I—” She took a deep breath, unsure if she could get what she needed to say past her lips. “I know you believe all I care about is money. I even get why you think that since I once asked you for payment and you heard Cooper’s message. But I want you to know that— Well, I’m aware that I might have a problem.” She shrugged. “And I’m working on it.”
“Look at me.” Cool fingers cupped her cheek. She looked into his deep blue eyes and simply forgot to breathe.
With a groan, as though touching her had released some long-denied need, he pulled her roughly into his arms.
“Merl,” he whispered, his voice a tortured sigh against her hair. She longed to touch her lips to his, but closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar cinnamon hint of his aftershave. Why did she always feel safe wrapped in the sheltering warmth of Cody’s arms? Moving deeper into his embrace, she collided with the solid reality of the shoulder harness that contained his gun.
They both backed away.
He cleared his throat. “I need to report this information.”
Was it her imagination, or was there regret behind his words? And what exactly did he regret?
“Of course.” She wrapped her arms across her chest, aching for Cody’s arms instead. “Plus, I’m sure you want to confirm my report.”
“I told you I believe you,” he said, his voice sharp, edgy. “I meant it.”
“Right,” she said. But did he really? Could they get beyond their mutual lack of trust?
Didn’t seem likely.
As he continued to stare at her, he narrowed his eyes. He shook his head. “So who killed Ray Price?” he asked. “And why?”
“I thought Neville—”
“No way,” Cody said. “Why would he? Ray Price was Neville’s proof that he didn’t murder Doc Johnson. Neville is sticking by his story that Pat discovered the insurance fraud and demanded he come to her home that night to discuss future plans. Neville didn’t trust her, so he took Price to watch his back.”
“Maybe Pat killed Price to eliminate Neville’s alibi. Then it would be just his word against my video.”
“But Pat was in North Carolina when Price was murdered. You talked to her and so did one of our officers. Cell and landline records confirm that. We’ve even discovered footage of her at an ATM machine.”
“Right,” Merlene said. Had these events only been a week ago? Seemed like a lifetime. “Pat even sent me a key to the ranch in Ocala.”
“Probably to prove her location. Or maybe the trip was a diversion, something to get you out of town while things settled down. We can ask her after her arrest.” Cody cupped her chin and smiled down at her.
Was he remembering their night in the cabin? She lightly touched his hand. If only they could start over again.
Merlene stepped away. She was a big girl. She knew better than to buy into fairy tales.
“I’ll lay you odds Pat didn’t know Neville had gone to the ranch,” Cody said.
“I wonder where her boyfriend was at the time of Price’s murder.” Merlene said.
Cody dropped his hand and tapped the manila file against his leg. “I’m looking forward to asking him that very question this afternoon.”
* * *
“NO WAY, MAN.” Angel Vasquez, Pat Johnson’s young, dark-haired lover, pushed away from the interrogation table and crossed powerful arms on his chest. “No damn way. You tell your partner to back off.”
“Jake takes murder personally.” Taking grim satisfaction in the good-cop/bad-cap routine, Cody watched Vasquez squirm. Tonight Jake had been the “bad” cop. Using his two hundred and thirty pounds of brawn to intimidate the gigolo, Jake had made colorful threats and then slammed out of the interrogation room with a great show of barely restrained anger.
As the sympathetic cop, Cody now hoped to squeeze the truth out of Vasquez.
The weasel leaned forward again. “I had nothing to do with any murder, man. No way. Go talk to Pat Johnson.”
“Tell me about Pat Johnson.”
“Hey, she’s a real generous lady.” Angel offered a slight grin. “Okay, I make a living off generous ladies, but I had nothing, nothing to do with any murder. I never heard of this Roy Price.”
“Ray Price.”
“Whatever. I never heard of him, and I sure didn’t kill him.”
“Did Pat?”
“Listen, man, I swear I don’t know. Once or twice she talked about knocking off her husband, but that was because she knew he was in trouble with the law. She liked the good life and worried she’d lose her meal ticket if her old man went to prison.”
“You’d lose your free ride, too,” Cody pointed out.
“Hey, I make her happy.” Angel placed his palms flat on the wooden desk and leaned forward. “Pat bragged that she was some of kind of...I don’t know, wizard with stocks, that she could turn the insurance payoff into some real money that would keep us in high style. She had this big idea about using a bimbo private eye to frame some jerk-off for the murder, but she never said nothing to me about killing any Ray Price. The husband—” Vasquez shook his head “—could be, but I don’t know nothing about nobody else.”
“She didn’t ask you to get rid of Price for her—or her husband?”
“No way. I’ll take a lie detector test, man. Bring it on.” He waved an arm. “Besides, she makes me nervous now. If she really whacked her old man, what if she gets tired of me?”
Cody laughed. “Do you have a three-million-dollar life-insurance policy?”
With a shake of his head, Vasquez repeated, “I didn’t kill nobody, man.”
Cody grilled Vasquez for another forty-five minutes, but the guy never changed his story. Cody believed him.
So did Jake and Lieutenant Montoya, who watched the interrogation behind the one-way glass.
“So who killed Ray Price?” Jake stroked his mustache as the three conferred in Montoya’s office. “Maybe his death had nothing to do with Doc Johnson’s murder.”
Montoya placed his unlit cigar in a clean ashtray. “I don’t want my ass in a sling for harassing some innocent society woman, so go over everything we’ve got one more time. If you don’t find anything, bring Pat Johnson in for questioning tomorrow morning.”
Jake groaned as he came
to his feet. “We’ll be here all night. I gotta call my wife.”
Dreading the tedious evening ahead, Cody remained slumped in his chair. He’d hoped to see Merl. He needed to clear the air between them once and for all and didn’t want to wait any longer. Had she sold the video to Channel Eight?
“Looks like you were right about your private eye,” Montoya said, sounding disappointed.
“We’ve been through Merlene’s life with a magnifying glass,” Jake said, “and found nothing wrong. Hell, she never even requests an extension to file her income tax return.”
Montoya nodded. “And since lover boy just confirmed that Pat Johnson’s plan was to use a private eye to frame Feldman, I’m satisfied the Saunders woman is clean.”
“Pat Johnson didn’t care who she destroyed on her quest to get rid of her husband,” Jake said.
“Real nice lady,” Montoya said. “And her scheme almost worked. So let’s focus on nailing down our case against this murdering wife.”
* * *
HOURS LATER, still at his desk, Cody stared at the phone, wanting to call Merl. She deserved to know she was officially no longer a suspect. She also deserved another apology. And an explanation.
She’d been right. He’d allowed his father’s mistakes to become his own, permitting them to color his entire life. That had to stop. He had to forget the past and move on. But could he if she’d sold her recording?
Would she even give him a chance to explain? Did he deserve a second—damn, or was it a third?—chance? He shook his head.
When she answered the phone, her softly accented voice sent a shaft of regret through him. Why didn’t it feel as if it was over between them?
“Hi,” he said.
“Good evening, Detective.”
He couldn’t interpret her mood. How angry was she? Beyond forgiveness?
“Your detective work paid off,” he said. “Montoya says you’re off the hook.”
After a long pause she said, “Thank you for telling me.”
“We need to talk, Merl. When can I see you?”
“Have you interviewed Angel Vasquez?”
“He confirmed Pat’s involvement,” Cody said, allowing her to evade his question for now. “Apparently your client decided her husband wouldn’t be worth anything to her in jail.”
To Trust a Cop Page 24
