by Mayer, Dale
Macklin grinned. “I keep forgetting about her skills.”
“Don’t. She’s pretty amazing.”
Macklin nodded. “She’s a good person to have on our side.”
“Everyone is. Marsha was a fruitcake right from the beginning, and I know you don’t like it when we refer to her as such, but the fact remains that she was off-balance. Honestly, I know it’s not nice, but I’m glad it’s her that’s dead and in the morgue, not you.”
Macklin had to agree.
Just as he walked past the house, he heard a voice call out, “Macklin?”
Beside him, he could feel Corey’s shoulders shake in mirth. Mac turned to look at Alex striding toward him, a serious look on her face, her gaze narrowed. He smiled. “Hi, Alex.”
“What are you doing here?”
The suspicion in her tone got his back up. “Going for a walk,” he said pointedly. “Is there a law against that?”
“No, but you don’t live here. We all know that people like to come back to the scene of their crimes.”
He let his breath out quietly, anger stirring inside. “I’m pretty sure not one description of the intruder would match my physical form.”
She took a long look at his face, not even bothering to check out the rest of the form he’d referred to. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
She nodded. “True enough, but that doesn’t mean you’re in the clear with regard to Marsha.”
Corey stepped forward, his body now vibrating.
Macklin grabbed Corey’s arm to hold him back. “But, since I had nothing to do with her murder, that doesn’t apply to me.”
At that moment Corey stepped closer to Mac.
Alex switched her focus to Corey. As he glared at her, her jaw locked down while she studied him. “You can be as pissed off as you want to be, Corey, because I’m not here for you, and I’m not here for Macklin. I’m here for the woman who had her throat cut. So deal with it.”
She turned and stormed off. Several feet away, she spun around and said, “It’s probably a good idea if you gentlemen go home.”
“What? No neighborhood watch?” Corey said in a mocking tone.
Her gaze locked on his as she said, “No, not tonight.”
Chapter 6
“Fool,” she whispered under her breath. Didn’t he realize what it looked like to have him walking the crime area? If he was smart, he’d have stayed home. She turned around to make sure the two men were moving on, and they were. But their heads were together as they discussed something. Dammit. Given their skill set, she wished she knew what it was about.
If they had any working theories, she wanted them; she wanted it all, because this needed to stop. She knew a lot of people were watching her to see how she would handle this case. She had already been the target of enough negativity upon her arrival as it was. She got into her vehicle and headed toward her office, her mind churning too much to go home and sleep.
At the station, she quickly logged in the photographs they’d found, then made digital copies of all of them. It wasn’t that she believed the evidence would go missing, but she believed a backup was just smart on all sides.
She’d also learned the hard way how sometimes evidence went missing by accident and then, on occasions, when officers were less-than-honest. She added the photos to the box with the rest of the evidence. Back at her desk, she sat down and brought up the photos on her computer screen. She reviewed each one in turn. They were all of Marsha. Marsha happily smiling, Marsha staring at something, Marsha angry.
She named the collection The Moods of Marsha. She needed to talk to the woman who lived in that house. Had she taken the photos? It was her dresser. How much of this was just a photography student’s project? “But then why tape them under the dresser drawer?” she muttered.
She brought up her notes and quickly typed in the name Macklin had given her earlier. It didn’t make sense that another man who had been in the same BUD/S program would have anything against Macklin. They’d both successfully finished that year. Still, it was a name she needed to check out. Any connection to Macklin was important.
The cases had obviously dovetailed. She just couldn’t imagine how they fit together. It didn’t make any sense. She thought about the fact that Marsha had lived alone too. It didn’t mean Macklin was in the clear, but neither did it make him the most suspicious person on her list. She did a quick search for Bill Toronto. He’d transferred back east five weeks ago. The house had been empty for a week before Kathleen moved in.
Alex leaned forward to review the other files. She checked Marsha’s residential history, remembering something was odd about it. She moved like every six months—except for a few months’ gap in the housing record. Maybe she’d been forced to live with a relative until she found a new place. According to the managers of the various apartments, one move was due to a neighbor bothering her—Marsha didn’t feel safe. Another one was due to too many fights with the neighbors, and another one was because the apartment felt wrong. Alex raised her eyebrows at that. Marsha had rented five places in a period of three years. Alex’s fingers ran freely over the keyboard as she typed out her thoughts, confusions, and questions.
She needed answers, and she needed them fast. She checked her watch; it was ten p.m. The woman who had been at that location when it was broken into was currently visiting her mother in San Diego. Taking a chance, she quickly dialed the number she had on file. When Kathleen Matron answered, Alex identified herself. She let the woman know the house had been broken into a second time tonight.
She listened to the woman’s cries of shock.
“Do you have any idea why either the same intruder or a second man would enter that house?”
“No,” she said. “My God, I’ve only been there for a month.”
Alex already knew that because she had the records for the house in front of her. “Did you bring the dresser in your bedroom with you?”
“What do you mean?” Kathleen asked.
“The dresser in your bedroom,” Alex asked patiently. “Is it yours?”
“No, it was there when I moved in. I was pissed at first because I didn’t want to have anything left in the house. Who does? Somebody leaves their junk, and you must deal with it yourself, but I’d requested to have it moved out. Then, in the move, my own dresser had been broken. I intend to get a new one, but I haven’t yet.”
“Do you happen to know Marsha McEwan?”
“I don’t. Why?”
“Just part of another case. She was murdered two nights before your place was broken into.”
A stunned silence seemed to take over the other end of this call, and then Kathleen said, “That’s terrible.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t think it has something to do with me?”
“No. But since we found photographs of Marsha taped underneath one of the drawers in the dresser, I needed to know if you knew anything about it.”
“Photographs in my dresser?”
“Yes.”
Alex could understand how the woman felt. Nobody wanted to think anybody was in her bedroom or, even worse, invading her dresser, her own space. “I’m sorry, but I did have to go into your home and search to see why the intruder would come back.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kathleen stated firmly. “I’m not spending another night in that house.”
“I do have the photographs but didn’t take anything else.”
“They weren’t mine, so I don’t care.” Kathleen hesitated, then added, “Were they nasty photographs?”
“No, just of Marsha’s face. They were taken at various locations around the city.”
More silence. “Like somebody was stalking her?” Kathleen asked slowly. “I really don’t want anything to do with that dresser now.”
“That’s fine. We might very well need to take the whole thing in and get it fingerprinted.”
“You can have it. Take one of my bags from the closet and pack
all my personal belongings first, please. I’m not sure I want to come back at all.”
When Alex got off the phone, she updated her notes and sat in front of the monitor for a long moment. It was the wrong time to phone back east to confirm with Bill that he’d left the dresser behind. It wasn’t new; it wasn’t terribly nice.
But it was functional. It was also large and heavy, making it tempting to leave behind for someone else to deal with. She also had to consider the fact that the second intruder might not have come back to steal something but to plant something.
Like that envelope. She wondered if the lab would find Macklin’s fingerprints on the photographs. It would be a good way to frame him since he’d never lived there. According to him and Kathleen, they didn’t know each other. So no reason for something with his fingerprints to be here.
She picked up her phone, called Macklin, and asked, “The house I was standing at when you walked by, have you ever been inside?”
“No, not that I can remember,” he said slowly. “Why?”
“Because that’s where the photos of Marsha were found.” She waited for any response from him. Got none. “Can you tell me honestly if I’ll find fingerprints of yours in that house?”
The air between them thickened when he said, “I can’t tell you that, no. I’ve been based out of this area for a long time. I’ve helped many a buddy move in and out of plenty of military residences in this area. But I can tell you, to the best of my memory, I have never been in that house.”
“Why would I find your fingerprints there?”
“Because someone is obviously framing me. I doubt they stopped with writing my name in blood at the crime scene. It follows that they would plant evidence. My fingerprints could be on a book. They could be on an envelope. They could be on a cup.”
“An envelope?” She stared at the digital photos on her monitor. “Interesting you would say that.”
“Why?” he snapped. “What did you find?”
She groaned. “That’s how we found the photographs of Marsha. In a large envelope.”
There was silence between them for a long moment.
“Well, it was an accidental turn of phrase from me. Did you find any fingerprints on the pictures or the envelope?” His voice was more curious than worried.
“I haven’t gotten the results yet.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get back to me if mine are on there.” His voice thinned with frustration. “I know it’s useless to tell you again I’m innocent. But, if somebody’s planted an envelope in that house, it still doesn’t do anything to move the investigation forward. It’s just churning up the water so you can’t see clearly.”
“Well, believe it or not, I can figure that out myself,” Alex said. “Just make sure you stay out of trouble.”
“I stayed out of trouble right from the beginning,” he said wearily. “The only thing I did wrong was date Marsha.”
She chuckled. “Sometimes that’s all any of us have to do.”
More silence followed.
In an awkward tone she said, “Okay, that’s all I need for the moment. Have a good night.” She hung up.
But he was right. The only thing finding an envelope at that house did was muddy the waters. And that just pissed her off. Somebody was out to cause trouble. The question was, was it for Macklin or was it for her? Only time would tell.
*
How odd to consider someone hated him enough to set him up on a murder charge. Mac had done a lot of things in his life as a SEAL, but hurting some civilian or deliberately being an asshole weren’t part of who he was. Sure, as a callow youth, he might have been a jerk once or twice but never in a big way.
Marsha had terrified him. But how did he prove he didn’t do something when he had no alibi for the time of her murder?
He wanted to call Mason and ask him for advice, but, before he got a chance, his phone rang. It was Corey, checking up on him.
“Why don’t you come stay the night with me? If there is another B&E, you’ll have an alibi. If you’re not getting a girlfriend anytime soon, then let’s at least make sure Alex can rule you out.”
“Not too interested in a girlfriend right now,” he muttered, seeing the sense in Corey’s suggestion but hating it all the same. He glanced at the clock. “It’s only ten.”
“I suggest we hit the pub and shoot some pool. Anything to take your mind off this shit. Then crash at my place and carry on tomorrow.”
“I was trying to figure out who killed Marsha,” Macklin said quietly.
“I know. And that’s why you need to get out. Be visible and take this off your mind. While covering your ass.” He gave a half laugh. “Let’s make it easy for Alex to knock you off her list, so you can ask her out.”
“Getting my name knocked off her list—now that’s an idea I can get behind. Asking her out… I’m not so sure about.”
“You’re already planning on it, just haven’t gotten your head wrapped around it fully yet. Doesn’t matter at this point. Not until we clear your name. So get your ass over here.”
Chapter 7
Alex woke up early the next morning, feeling like she hadn’t had any sleep at all. Her dreams were filled with break-ins and bodies with throats slashed. A life filled with carcasses.
Still groggy she stepped into the shower and turned on the water cooler than normal. She needed something to blast her back into reality. As she stepped out to dry off, she could hear her phone ring. Swearing, she raced into the bedroom, grabbed her cell phone, and said, “Hello.”
“How about we meet for breakfast?”
Macklin’s voice was quiet in her ear. She turned to stare at the mirror, seeing her dripping hair, the damp towel barely hiding the lean body she had been complaining about since she was a child. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I think it’s a great idea. Maybe the more you get to know me, the more you’ll realize I had nothing to do with this.”
“You are still a suspect in a murder inquiry. Getting friendly is not cool.”
“Find a way to knock me off the list so I’m no longer a suspect. I don’t know what you need to do that. But surely we need to do another interview over breakfast,” he said in a warm, persuasive voice.
She smiled despite herself. “I could question you anywhere. A restaurant in full public view is hardly the best location.” But she could feel herself giving in.
“Well, I want to talk over some ideas I’ve had since you told me about those photographs.”
“That’s a different story.”
“Exactly.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not that easy to manipulate.”
“Sure you are,” he said with a big smile in his voice. “Pick the place. Meet you there in fifteen.”
“And if I can’t make it in fifteen?”
“Then I’ll meet you there in twenty.”
She chose a restaurant between the two of them for a convenient location. “And I’ll try for fifteen but no guarantees.” She tossed the phone back on the bed and got to work. Her hair was soaking wet; she braided it to stop most of the dripping. She didn’t have time to use her hair dryer. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a clean white T-shirt. Once dressed, she picked up her weapon, wallet, purse, and keys. She walked outside into the heat and took several long deep breaths. It was probably the coolest it would be all day. Plus the air had a freshness to it this morning that she hadn’t noticed last night. She got into her vehicle and drove to the appointed spot. She checked her watch as she walked in the front door. She was exactly three minutes late. She stood in the center of the restaurant and looked around and then grinned when there was no sign of him. Had she beaten him?
A waitress asked how many for her table.
“Two please. I’m meeting someone here.”
“Macklin? He’s expecting you.”
“He is?” Her grin fell away. “He’s here already?”
The waitress nodded. “Follow me.”
He looked up and smiled. “I figured, if this was a working breakfast, we should work.”
“Don’t you have a job to go to yourself?”
“A conference. I return to active duty in a week.” He lifted his cup and had a sip, twisting to study her face. “That’s why the early morning call.”
“I like early mornings,” she admitted. “But I prefer them after a good night’s sleep.”
“Hard to sleep with everything going on.”
“True enough but last night it was calm.” She understood what he was asking, even if he didn’t come out and say anything. She noted the look of relief on his face. “So, did you get some sleep?”
“I bunked in with a friend last night. I wanted to make sure if something happened, I had an alibi.”
She sat down slowly, her gaze focused on his features. “That’s very smart of you. Unless, of course, he’s such a good friend he’d lie for you.”
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “He’s a good friend, but honor is very strong among us. He would never lie for me.”
“I didn’t think so, but you never know.”
“Isn’t that something husbands and wives do for each other? Parents and siblings? Do buddies do that?”
“More often than you think,” she said shortly.
He slipped a piece of paper across the table to her.
“What’s this?”
“When I was walking the Silver Strand neighborhood, I parked a couple blocks away behind a small truck. It may be nothing, but I thought I’d share that info with you.”
She nodded, looked it over, then folded it, and placed it in her purse. “I would like any theories you and your team might have. Otherwise, butt out of my investigation.”
But she had said it with a smile.
The waitress arrived just then. She brought not only a fresh cup of coffee for Alex but also a pot she put on the sideboard heater.
After she left, Alex looked at the pot and said, “I never thought to arrange a backroom meeting like this. It’s a good idea.”
