“How would I know? Jesus. She can’t be dead. I just saw her a few hours ago. She can’t be dead.”
He hung his head while his whole body shook with grief. After a moment, he lifted his face and stood with a strength that surprised Jaxon.
“I need to see her. Where is she?”
He pushed his way past, walking quickly toward the house.
“Mr. Rothstein. Wait!” Hawks said, going after him. “You can’t. It’s a crime scene!”
Rothstein ignored her and ran.
Hawks shouted to the patrolman at the door. “Stop him! Don’t let him contaminate the crime scene!
Rothstein was a good-sized man and with his sudden determination he barreled through the cop at the door. The patrolman ended up in the bushes on his ass. Rothstein stormed into the house with Hawks, Tate, and Jaxon close behind.
“Where is she?” he shouted.
Jaxon watched him turn left inside the house and then he disappeared. A few seconds later he heard a wail.
“No! No! Oh my God! Mary Beth. No!”
Jaxon followed Tate and turned to see Rothstein on his knees in the room where his wife and her lover lay nude, covered in their own blood.
Hawks and Tate held his shoulders as he tried to get to his dead wife and pulled him up by his arms to get him out of the house. He fought angrily at first and then stopped, sagging in defeat.
He shook his head and moaned, calling her name over and over.
* * *
Jaxon sat in the waiting area of the Clay County Sheriff’s office and texted Vick, saying he was going to be late. Ray was in an interrogation room being, well, interrogated. Tate and Hawks would not let Jaxon in on it.
Ben Rothstein had made the trip to the station also, but had stayed only briefly. He had answered questions quietly without hesitation and was then picked up by his father, William Rothstein, the prominent ‘I’ve got my fingers in everyone’s pie’ businessman of North Florida. Jaxon felt for sure the man was dirty and so did a lot of the local law enforcement. Nobody had been able to make anything stick.
William was a big man, early seventies, with white hair and piercing eyes. He watched everything like it was going to attack him at any moment. He had rushed into the station wearing a suit and tie, threatening police brutality charges for his son’s treatment in such a dire hour. Ben sat there in shock not caring what his old man did or said.
The one thing that Jaxon gleaned from the interaction between father and son was the remark that Ben Rothstein made as they walked past him on the way out the door.
“That fucker was banging my wife, Pop,” Ben had said. “In my own house. After I gave him a job and pulled him up out of the street.”
“He’s dead, son. He got what he deserved.”
“But Mary Beth didn’t deserve it.”
“Are you sure about that? The whore was screwing around on you.”
Jaxon had watched Ben flinch and then his shoulders sagged in defeat.
William Rothstein put his arm around his son and walked him out of the station. Jaxon could not hear what else was said. That was forty-five minutes ago and the station had been quiet since.
A few minutes later, Ray walked out through a door at the back of the room and Tate and Hawks followed. He looked tired and pissed.
Tate’s expression was unreadable, but Hawks’ matched Ray’s. She looked furious. She went to a desk and sat without looking Jaxon’s way.
Ray walked up and handed Jaxon the camera. “Let’s go.”
“Hold up. I want to talk to Tate.”
“Come on, Jaxon. I’m tired of this place. They aren’t going to give us anything.”
Jaxon ignored him and walked over to Tate who was sitting at a desk next to Hawks. He was typing a report. He stopped when Jaxon walked up.
“Anything I can help you with, Jaxon?”
“Just wondering what you’ve learned.”
“Not much, but I can’t share that info with you anyway.”
“Thought we might be able to help each other out, but I see your department is behaving in its usual manner.”
Tate chuckled. “You haven’t exactly earned any Brownie points with the sheriff.”
“He needs to get over it.”
“That will not happen any time soon. You should be thankful he didn’t pull your license.”
Jaxon nodded.
He knew Tate was right. Still it bothered him that this police department wouldn’t cooperate with a local private eye who might be able to provide them with valuable information. Usually, the relationship was symbiotic. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Their loss.
“I’ll just get up to speed from Maningham then. I’m sure he was helpful to you,” Jaxon said and turned away.
“Keep us in the loop, Jaxon,” Tate said.
Jaxon turned back.
“I have no issues with that. You guys should do the same. I’m still involved in this whether you like it or not. I have a client who has hired me to evaluate his wife’s fidelity and I plan on fulfilling that obligation.”
“She’s dead. Sounds like your case is closed.”
Jaxon shrugged and turned to leave.
“I mean it, Jaxon. Don’t hold out on us.”
Jaxon did not respond as he left with Ray following behind.
In Jaxon’s car, he said, “What happened?”
Ray told him the events of the night in detail as they drove. Jaxon only interrupted once.
“You got the plate of the car that dropped lover boy off?”
“Yeah. Shit I forgot about that.”
“Tate and Hawks don’t know this?”
“No.”
“I’ll let them know.”
“Next week?”
Jaxon gave him a look. “Tomorrow—after I track it down.”
Ray shook his head. “You’re walking a thin line.”
“Nah. Just reciprocating.”
Ray was silent for a minute. “I could use a drink. Want to join me?”
Jaxon shook his head. “No thanks. Trying to hold the line.”
Ray shrugged and stared out the window. Jaxon hoped he wouldn’t over-do it.
They arrived back at the Rothstein house and the lights were still burning inside, the evidence van parked out front, and a patrolman sitting in his car. Ray went to get out and Jaxon stopped him.
“Take it easy tonight. I need you bright and early. We’ve got work to do.”
“Sure. I’ll be there.”
Ray stepped out and walked to his car. The patrolman got out and stopped him.
Jaxon watched Ray pull out his ID and point to the car. The cop nodded and returned to his vehicle after he looked over the credentials. At least Tate and Hawks had left word that Ray would be back for his car. One less hassle for the night.
Chapter 5
Ray sat at the bar and drained his beer.
It was a quiet night, with only a dozen or so people scattered throughout the place, the lone pool table occupied and country music on the Jukebox. Nobody was bothering him and that was fine. After the day he had, he really didn’t want any company.
The bartender turned his way and Ray held up his empty glass, signaling for another. The man brought it over without delay and Ray added another dollar to the tip pile in front of him. The bartender smiled.
Ray was having a hard time purging the vision of the killings from his mind.
He had seen some disgusting things during his career as a wildlife officer, but they had mainly involved animals. Ray had never seen anyone shot and then had a woman die in his arms. He didn’t like it.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled to Michelle’s number. He was beginning to feel no pain, but what lingered he felt she could fix. If only she would talk to him. He cursed to himself and pressed ‘send.’ The phone began ringing.
A sleepy ‘Hello’ came from the speaker and Ray looked at his watch.
He was an idiot. After all this time, all the mi
ssed opportunities, he found the courage to press the button at 12:30 in the morning inside a bar after having eight beers. Way to go, Pal, he thought to himself. Stupid.
“Hello?” She seemed to come awake through the tinny connection and he finally found his voice.
“Hi. It’s me.”
“Ray? What time is it?”
He sighed. “It’s late. Sorry. I needed to hear your voice.”
A long pause on the other end and he wondered if she hung up.
“Are you sure this can’t wait ‘till morning?”
“No. I just…I had a bad night.”
“Are you alright?”
“I’m not hurt or anything. Just…I don’t know. I was missing you.”
The bartender wiped the counter down in front of Ray after lifting his glass. He set it back down and scooped up the dollar bills that had piled up. Ray shifted and faced away from the bar.
“What’s wrong, Ray?”
“It’s good to hear your voice.”
And it was. He was smiling and he was sure he looked pretty damned goofy sitting in this bar, half drunk, facing the door with a huge grin on his face, the phone stuck to his ear. He glanced around and saw the pool players looking his way. He shifted around and faced the bar.
“Did something happen?”
“Yes.”
“Ray, I’m really tired and I have a long day tomorrow. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I saw two people murdered.”
“What? And you’re ok?”
“Nothing happened to me. I was watching a woman who we thought was cheating on her husband, when her lover showed up. Then a car pulled up and two men got out. They walked into the house and shot them both. The woman died in my arms.”
“Oh Ray. I’m sorry. That must have been horrible.”
“It was.”
One of the guys playing pool yelled an expletive and the people laughed. Someone took the barstool next to Ray. He was the only one sitting at the bar and this prick had to sit right next to him. He turned away trying for some privacy.
“Where are you?” Michelle asked. “Are you drinking?”
He paused for a second and she saw right through him.
“I can’t believe you’d call me in the middle of the night from a bar.”
“I’ve had a bad day. I needed to relax.”
“Right. Next you’ll be shouting at me to come back to you. You know how you get when you’re drunk. I think I’m going to hang up now.”
“No. Wait.”
She waited and when he didn’t speak for a bit she said, “What is it, Ray? I’m really tired.”
“I need you.”
“I’m not going through this with you right now. Call me back when you’re sober…as a matter of fact, don’t call me back. I’ll call you.”
“Thanks for the support,” he said.
She sighed. “You won’t take my help. We tried it, remember? Find someone you will listen to, because you’re going to kill yourself if you keep this up. I’m hanging up.”
“Wait!”
But she didn’t.
He heard a click and then he was no longer connected. He slammed the phone down and the back cover flew off, striking the person next to him. He turned to apologize and saw Detective Hawks glaring at him.
Great.
“Problem, Mr. Maningham?”
“You again? What do you want?”
She handed him his phone cover. “A drink. Don’t worry, I’m not here for you.”
He took the cover and said, “Sorry. I dropped it.”
“Right.”
The bartender approached and she ordered a Crown Royal on the rocks. A woman after his own heart.
“I’ll take one of those too,” he told the bartender. “And put both on my tab.”
He wasn’t sure why he was being nice.
She shook her head. “I’ll pay myself,” she said with finality.
“Just trying to make amends for striking you with my phone equipment.”
He smiled. She didn’t.
“I’m in no mood to be picked up,” she said.
“Listen, I just had one of the worst days of my life and the night doesn’t seem to be getting any better. I’m in no mood to pick anyone up. Shit, I don’t even know why I’m being nice to you. You gave me hell today.”
She stared at him. “Just doing my job.”
She turned away as the bartender brought the drinks.
“You could stand to do it better.”
Anger flared in her eyes and she said, “I do my job very well. I’m the youngest detective on the force.”
He waved his hand. “I’m sure you’re a fine investigator. It’s your personal skills that need improving.”
She sipped her drink and then turned fully toward him in her stool.
“You were being kind of an ass yourself.”
“I had just witnessed the deaths of two people. That gave me permission to be an ass.”
He stared into her eyes and was surprised to see something soften there. He also noticed how really beautiful she was. Even when she was angry, and that seemed to be waning.
She lifted her hand and pushed a strand of hair from her face. That simple gesture struck him as uniquely feminine and he saw her in a different light. Maybe he was being too hard on her. He also had an urge to reach up and push that lock of hair behind her ear. He resisted.
She remained silent for a moment. “I guess I wasn’t thinking how you were feeling.”
“You should try. It’s important for people to feel you care. It’s part of the job. Look, it really isn’t that big of a deal to me, but in the future, it might be for someone else.”
She nodded, turning back to the bar. She sipped her drink.
“How long were you a cop?”
“Ten years. Wildlife Officer in the Everglades. You?”
“I’m in my tenth year. I made detective two months ago.”
“Has to be tough for a woman.”
“Why?” Anger flared again.
“Easy. I’m not saying you can’t do your job. I’m just saying it’s mainly a man’s world you’re in and it has to be tough.”
She searched his eyes and he felt uncomfortable, but he held her gaze.
“A little.” She looked away.
“Seems to me you have a chip on your shoulder.”
She looked back at him and a ghost of a smile spread across her lips. It was the first time he had seen it and it was a wonder. Her whole face changed and softened, and became even more beautiful. He wondered what happened when she laughed. He realized he wanted to know.
She raised her glass to him and said, “Ray Maningham. Shrink. You see right through me.”
He smiled back and clinked her glass.
“Let me see, you were the only girl in a house full of men, your mama tried to put you in a dress every day and you fought her tooth and nail. Your brothers picked on you all the time, but would die for you if you got into trouble. Your beauty became almost a curse to you and you had to prove yourself to them and your father every day of your life, and you still do.”
She grew sad. “My father’s dead. Four years ago.”
“Sorry.”
“But you’re pretty close with the other stuff. Three brothers, one sister, but she’s much older and we never really connected. I’m the baby.”
“You should be proud of your accomplishments. Not angry.”
She stared at him, but he was having a hard time reading her.
“Maybe I read you wrong,” she said, and smiled. “Can I guess your past now?”
“I don’t know. I probably don’t want to hear it.”
“Too bad. I listened to you.” She paused. “You’re an only child. Father was a cop or in the military and your mother tried to dress you up every day.”
He laughed.
“You went to college in your hometown and graduated, but didn’t know what to do with yourself. The military was not an option for
you. You didn’t want to be a cop like the old man, but something along those lines found you anyway. You’re not married, but you’ve had a serious relationship that’s just recently ended. You don’t like working for a private eye.”
He stared at his drink and then swallowed it in one gulp.
“I guess we’re both good at reading people. At least after the first impression.”
“Was that who you were talking to when I sat down? The girlfriend?”
He nodded.
“Didn’t look like it was going too well.”
“She’s a good woman. I’m not a good guy. Kind of fits with the situation and the phone call, now doesn’t it?”
“What makes you so bad?”
He held up the empty glass of Crown.
“You don’t look like a drunk.”
“Don’t feel like one. Well, maybe right now. She doesn’t see it that way.”
“Why are you beating yourself up?”
He glanced sideways at her and grinned. “We’re getting all kinds of cozy aren’t we?”
“Keep it to yourself if you want. Just trying to help.”
He didn’t know if he wanted to go there with her. She was being really nice at the moment, but it was hard to forget her bitchy side. It might show up again at any minute.
He raised his glass and got the bartender’s attention and ordered another. “Her too.”
She nodded.
“I did some things on my job that got me fired. She tried to be patient, but sooner or later everybody runs out of it and she was no different. I don’t blame her.”
She cocked her head. “Why was it a big deal to her? You’re working now.”
“It was a big deal to me.”
She got the point then. “You’d never even had a glitch on your record before then, had you?”
He shook his head. “I was Ranger Rick. Everything by the book.”
She laughed and he had been right. It was glorious. He could watch her laugh all night if she would let him. Seeing her eyes shine as she let herself go, he found himself able to forgive every wrong she had done to him tonight. He couldn’t help it. He smiled and chuckled at her too.
“I was. Really.”
“I’m sure you were. Somehow you strike me as a perfectionist who’s lost his way.”
Father Figure (A Jaxon Jennings' Detective Mystery Thriller Series, Book 3) Page 3
