“Can’t you talk to her? You have a way of questioning people …victims, that isn’t …Well, threatening.” She urged a soft smile. “I remember.”
He remembered, too. The first time he looked into those eyes, they were filled with terror. Again, the urge to care for her was overpowering. He didn’t know what that was about. He’d handled many victims over his career. But Kate was … different.
What she was asking him to do now wouldn’t be well received. “I wish I could help. But, as I said, I’m a different department. Those guys would be pissed as hell, if I stepped onto their turf.”
She sat back in the chair with a sigh. “I understand.” She patted his arm. “Thanks anyway, Carl.”
While watching her walk out of the squad room, he reached for a pack of cigarettes from his desk drawer, tucked one in his lip, and then headed for Captain Lutz’s office.
Shit, I wish I could light the damned cigarette. I can’t believe what the hell I’m about to do.
Margie had never been so terrified. Her hands were shaking. Her mouth was dry. If this is the world that Eric West was hoping to open-up for me, I’ll pass. Thank … You … Very … Much!
The officer had been dead quiet in the cruiser. That was okay. She was too busy trying not to hyperventilate behind the cage in the back seat. After reaching the police station, she was fingerprinted and stuck in a small dank room. That is where she had been sitting for several hours. It seemed like an eternity.
The door knob rolled and the door jerked open.
A tall wisp of a man walked in and sat down at the table. He was followed by a frighteningly thin woman. Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She wore a white blouse and black slacks. Looking pissed as hell, she leaned against the door with her arms folded over her chest. Thank God, she’s not mad at me. She’s mad at the man. Weird. Cops tend to be a tight-knit group, like it is on TV.
The man took a moment to read the file in his hand before glancing up at her. He smiled. “Margie, I’m Lieutenant Lugowski.” He hitched a chin toward the glowering woman. “And that’s Detective Stewart. I spoke with Eric West a little while ago. He told me that you were at his house last evening.” His voice was quiet and calm. His eyes looked like he hadn’t slept in days, but there was a gentle demeanor behind his tortured appearance.
“Yes, I was,” she replied.
“Can you think of anyone who would vandalize Miss Fleming’s property, and make it look like you’d done it?”
“You don’t think I did it?”
“No, I don’t,” he said.
Detective Steward couldn’t suppress an eye roll.
“I didn’t do anything to Miss Fleming, and I don’t know who did.”
He glanced up at Stewart. “Let her go.”
Margie thought the woman was going to fall over. Instead she sprang into total bitch mode.
“Seriously, Lugowski?” Stewart asked through clenched teeth. “Are you forgetting that we’ve got the tablet with the matching paper from the notes with her prints all over them?”
“Great. You’ve got physical evidence of her property. But you can’t put her at either scene.”
“I’m sure we can find something to hold her on for a few more hours, until we—”
“Calm down, Stewart.” Lugowski held up the file bearing one sheet of paper. “Look. Not so much as a traffic ticket. She’s not a murder suspect. She’s got an alibi. Let … her … go.”
Glaring, Stewart yanked the door open and motioned for Margie to exit. She held her daggers tight on the lieutenant. “So pulled some strings with Captain Lutz, did ya?” She lowered her voice to a grouse. “Tell me, what brings you amongst us lowly run-of-the-mill, everyday, crime detectives? Bored with your bad boy murderers, Lugowski?”
He gathered the minuscule file from the table and followed Margie to the door where he tossed the detective a dry look. “Bitter? Get therapy and get over it, Stewart.”
After Lugowski united Margie with her father and saw them to their car, he made his way through the sea of surly faces in the station. He tugged a cigarette from his jacket pocket and pressed through the doors. He flicked his butane lighter and lifted it to the cigarette when he noticed Kate leaning a hip against the railing on the front steps of the station. A light breeze wisped through her glimmering hair. She looked the way she always looked to him. Damned tasty.
She smiled. “Thanks, Carl.”
Hoping the nicotine would steady the stir, he took a long drag from the cigarette. It didn’t. “Looks like you owe me, Miss West,” he noted with a playful smirk.
Kate took note of the surprising grin. Lugowski’s smirking. Funny. Everyone says he’s physically unable to smile, smirk, or grin. Everyone’s wrong. His smirk is down-right boyish, cute ... for a homicide cop, anyway.
“Hmmm, what an awkward position to be in.” She returned the grin.
“Not for me.” He blew the smoke out his nostrils, tossed her a wink, and strolled toward his SUV.
Sixteen
Eric slammed the phone onto its base. It was the night of the benefit dance at Keystone Downs Convention Center. He’d been looking forward to taking Jen. With her, all dressed up and looking like a beauty queen, on his arm; he knew every man in the room would envy him.
Since the mix-up with Margie, he had been unable to focus. During the past week, he had tried to contact her, but she hadn’t been at the track. Doug had been mysteriously absent as well.
During Eric’s visits to the O’Conner stable, Scott had been indifferent to say the least. The kid refused to make eye contact with him. As if he had been submerged deep in thought, Scott continued to pitch manure into a wheelbarrow. He acted as if Eric didn’t exist. For a brief moment, he would hesitate in his chore and look up like he wanted to tell him something; but then, it seemed as though he swallowed it down and changed his mind. After that, Eric couldn’t pry answers, or even a passing glance, from him.
With the scene in his study running through his head, the guilt coiled in Eric’s gut. He was sure Jen had noticed. She kept asking him if something was wrong. He denied it, but she knew. He knew she knew.
Dressed in a black suit, his white shirt unbuttoned, and his necktie dangling loose, he sat on the edge of his bed. Scrubbing his fingers across his freshly shaven face, he shuffled to the mirror that was mounted on the wall over his dresser. Hiking his chin, he began the task of adjusting his tie.
“Knock, knock.” Kate stood in the doorway of his bedroom.
Eric smiled at his lovely daughter, who was wearing a glittering midnight blue halter gown. Her blonde hair was gathered on her head in a French twist. The diamond stud earrings in her lobes winked at him in the soft light of the room. “Don’t you look beautiful?”
Kate returned his smile. “Trying to make sure you take note of things?”
He returned to the mirror and his tie. “Kinda.”
Watching her father’s sullen expression in the mirror, she sank onto the bed. “Can’t get a hold of Margie?”
“Nope, I’ll keep trying. We have to get this ironed out.” The tie wasn’t cooperating. He seemed to be all thumbs this evening. He flipped the ends of the tie this way and that until he finally left them to dangle around his neck in surrender.
Kate came to her father’s aid. She took the ends of the tie in her hands to form a proper knot at the base of his throat. “Do you think she’s capable of doing those things to Jen?”
“No, I don’t,” he answered, “but someone sure did. All of this over a little misunderstanding.”
“A little misunderstanding to you. This was huge to her, Dad.”
“I know that, Kate. I’m sure once she’s settled down, and I get a chance to calmly explain, she’ll understand.”
Kate urged a half-smile. “I hope you’re right. But, Dad, if she did
those things; I know Jen’ll press charges.”
Dangerously dapper in a navy pinstriped suit, Shane leaned in the door. “Kate, your date is here. I’m leaving to pick up Rachel.” They had no clue who Rachel was. She was probably one of the many standing in line for Shane’s attention
Kate smiled to herself. One of these days he’s going to grow up, and some woman’s going to bring him to his knees and put a swift end to his playboy ways—some woman that he least expected. What a grand day that would be.
He winked at his sister. “Hey, you don’t clean up half bad.” With that, he skedaddled down the hall.
Smooth operator. Kate giggled. “Oh, he’s such a ... Shane.” She kissed her father’s cheek. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the dance.” She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t let this ruin your evening with Jen.”
His mouth turned upward while he watched her dress whirl, and glitter, and float around her when she glided out of his room. I am truly a blessed man to have such a beautiful daughter who cares so much for me, and two strong vibrant sons to carry on the West name, and the proud racing tradition of Westwood Farm. Blessed.
He picked up the phone and dialed again. After listening to the ring on the other end, he released a frustrated sigh before hanging up, gathered his car keys from the nightstand, and went out the door.
This is Jen’s evening. She doesn’t deserve to have it marred by my frustration or guilt. I need to focus on her. Hey, how hard could that be? She’s a knock-out.
Jen smoothed the ginger-n-spice lipstick over her lips. She sat back in her vanity chair to admire her handiwork. She had plans for her lips tonight—especially after the dance. In the mirror, she practiced her come-hither smile that she was going to nail him with.
Tonight was her night. She owned it. She had earned it. She wasn’t going to let Margie O’Conner interrupt it for one second.
Once she had Eric in the door, it would be straight to the bedroom. No detours. She didn’t want him in the living room with the boarded-up window. It would only make him feel bad, and that wasn’t what she wanted him to feel tonight. Oh, no, tonight it’s going to be about the two of us between my cool blue sheets. Mmm, it will be so good feeling the heat, and the sensual friction between our naked bodies. Tonight is going to be about unbridling the intimacy I’ve been fantasizing about for so long.
The Miracle Bra she was wearing pushed a pleasing cleavage from her satin emerald gown’s sweetheart neckline. She dabbed a touch of perfume between her breasts and smiled about the bra’s perky performance. Oh, yes, tonight will be the night.
The enormous ballroom was decked-out with pink, blue, purple, and white helium balloons that floated, bumped, and danced along the high ceiling. Draped in white linen, each table sported huge arrangements of pink calla lilies in glass vases in its center. A Michael Buble song played in the background while guests chatted, laughed, and enjoyed hors d’oeuvres served by waiters.
Mike was with an attractive brunette that Kate had insisted he would “get along with very well,” whatever that meant. He had hoped to be at the dance with Coco. After she took up with Tom Mason, Mike decided to stay home and do some paperwork. Kate wasn’t having it. Ignoring his objections and always knowing what was best for the West men, she had made a phone call.
Thanks, sis.
He thought the girl’s name would be Eliza, but it turned out to be Tanya. He was relieved. What kind of a name was Eliza Doolittle, anyway?
A mere five-foot-two, Tanya was tiny, and couldn’t have weighed more than one-hundred-and-ten pounds while soaking wet. She was small enough to be a jockey. Yikes.
She’s ... cute. I don’t do cute. What the hell was Kate thinking? I like tall leggy women. I like a woman with curves. Breasts are always nice. This girl has what looks to be dried-up prunes. I like a woman I can wrap my arms around and not feel like she’ll break in half.
Her one-shouldered red dress was adorable. She wore her brunette hair swept back into a ponytail to expose the sparkling rhinestone hoops dangling from her earlobes.
Tanya was chatty. She talked and talked and talked. She had a fondness for twenty questions and she fired them off like a machine gun. “Do you like being a horse trainer?” “How long have you been a horse trainer?” “Do you make a lot money at that?” “Are the Thoroughbreds the one’s with the tiny saddle?” And his personal favorite question of the evening: “So, how long were you married to your wife? Are you divorced or just separated?”
God, when will this dance be over? She’s short, she’s flat, and she talks way too much. I may have a hard time forgiving Kate for this one. I’ll have no problem forgetting this chick ever existed.
Mike thought his head was going to explode by the time his father and Jen arrived at the table. Eric pulled a chair out for Jen. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have a zinfandel. Thank you.”
Mike almost knocked over his chair when he jumped up. “I’ll come with you.”
Eric waved his hand. “No, you stay and get acquainted with your date.” He smiled at her. “Can I get you something?”
“I’m Tanya. I’ll have a rum and Coke. Thank you. Are you Mike’s dad?”
“Yes, I’m Eric—”
“Are you a horse trainer, too?”
Eric noticed his son’s peeved expression. “A zinfandel, and a rum and Coke, it is.”
While he maneuvered around the table, he heard Tanya ask Jen, “Are you Mike’s mom?”
Poor Mike, what the hell was Kate thinking? He scanned the room for Shane or Kate while making his way to the bar. “A white zinfandel, rum and Coke, a Rolling Rock ...”
He glanced back at the table. Mike was leaning on his elbow with his head cupped in his hand. Tanya’s lips were still moving. He needed a rescue. “And give me a double shot of your best whiskey,” he instructed the bartender.
Leaning in close, Dan Quaide squeezed his shoulder. “Jen’s looking damned hot tonight, ole boy. Much better choice than that O’Conner girl.”
Eric’s jaw locked.
Dan didn’t know when to quit. “Hey, maybe I’ll ask Jen for a dance later.”
With a warning in his eyes, Eric turned to him. “Maybe I’ll break your jaw later.”
The left side of Dan’s mouth turned upward when he looked past Eric’s shoulder. His eyes brightened. “Don’t look now, buddy, but you’ve got double trouble.” With a sleazy grin toward the ballroom doors, he hiked his chin.
Eric turned to see Margie walk in on Scott Carter’s arm.
Wearing a plain black sheath dress, she looked good. Her hair fell around her shoulders in a cascade of curls.
Eric was most impressed with Scott. He didn’t look bad in a nice grey suit.
The bartender handed Eric his drink order on a small tray.
After tossing several bills on the bar, he shouldered past Dan toward Margie. He walked up behind her. “Margie, how are you?”
Producing a pleasantly forced smile, she turned to him. “I’m good, Eric, how about you?”
“I’m fine. I’ve been trying to bump into you all week.”
“I heard.”
“I wanted to iron some things out with you,” he said.
Margie was eyeing-up the tray of drinks in Eric’s hand. Her lips curled. “Is that wine for Jen?”
He shot her a perplexed expression. “Yes, yes, it is.”
She took the wine glass from the tray and guzzled it down. “Mike would’a hated calling me mom, anyways.” Leaving Eric without his zinfandel order, she led Scott into the ballroom.
The evening belonged to Jen. She owned it. Well, almost. Eric complimented her dress and her hair. Except when he glanced in Margie’s direction, she had his undivided attention. She could tell he was bothered by the whole vandalism situation. No worries. Once I have
him alone at my place, the Margie O’Conner distractions will cease to exist. Oh yes, I have every intention to drive him to distraction, all right. Lights low, candles lit, and clothes scattered on the floor.
Then, there was the other diversion: The fact that Shane never showed-up. Kate called him several times—no answer.
Kate’s date was a real hottie. Holden Reese was a big guy. With broad shoulders, he was tall at six-foot-one, if not taller. He carried a rugged cowboy air about him. With dark-colored hair, he wore a dark chocolate suit with light brown stitching that formed curly yokes at the shoulders. Hot damn, it was definitely working for him.
Jen wasn’t surprised. Who else would Kate attract but Mister Tall-Dark-and-Incredibly-Gorgeous?
On the other hand, Mike doesn’t seem to be enjoying his date at all. I don’t know why. Tanya’s a little cutie. She’s very personable, talkative, and perky. Okay, maybe a little too perky.
Mike seemed very put-off. Jen surmised that it might be because his ex-wife, Ava, looked so dazzling while dancing close with the tall, slender gentleman who she had brought to the dance. She noticed that Ava’s date stealthily glanced in Kate’s direction every once in a while. Who can blame him? She’s truly striking.
Then, there was the blonde bombshell, Coco Beardmore, who Mike kept eyeing-up as well as he was his ex-wife. Seems Eric’s elder son has an attraction to tall beautiful women. He seems annoyed to see her with Tom Mason, a much older, but well-maintained, man.
Nope, poor Tanya really isn’t cutting the mustard.
In the far corner of the ballroom, Coco was attracting a crowd. Kate elbowed Mike and the entire table went to see what the commotion was about. They eddied into the circle that had formed around her. Next to a table decked-out with fine china and crystal, she sparkled in her black strapless gown. Beaming at his date, Tom Mason seemed intrigued by what the bombshell had in store for everyone.
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