Tart of Darkness

by Denise Swanson

  The officer seemed relieved that he wasn’t another accident victim and pointed up. “Second floor.”

  Spencer thanked her and fought his way past the horde. The elevator spit him out into another waiting area, but this one was unoccupied and blessedly quiet after the cacophony downstairs.

  The doorway to the chief’s administrative assistant’s office was open and Spencer stepped inside. The front two-thirds of the room was lined with rows of gray metal file cabinets and shelves containing thick red, yellow, and blue three-ring binders grouped according to color. A teenager bobbing to whatever she was listening to through her earbuds was sitting behind the desk at the rear.

  Spencer cleared his throat, and when that had no effect, he said, “Miss?”

  Nothing. He repeated the word louder, but there was still no response, so he stepped closer and gingerly tapped the girl on the shoulder.

  The adolescent jumped as if she’d been tasered, then shouted, “What the hell, dude! You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “Sorry, miss.” Spencer bit back a lecture about being more aware of one’s surroundings. “I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

  Glaring, the girl said, “Maybe that’s because I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “The door was open,” Spencer pointed out, then said, “I have an appointment to see Chief Clearly at eleven thirty. Is she ready for me?”

  “Sure.” The teenager smirked. “You can go in.”

  “Can you let the chief know that I’m here?” The girl was definitely up to something.

  The teenager peered at him for a long moment, then demanded, “Who are you?”

  “Spencer Drake.” When the girl had screamed, Spencer had moved back from the desk, but now he leaned forward and held out his palm. “And you?”

  The teenager tentatively shook Spencer’s hand and muttered, “I’m Chloe.”

  “Good to meet you, Chloe.” Spencer smiled. “I’m the head of campus security at NU. Are you thinking of going there when you graduate?”

  “Seriously?” Chloe couldn’t have been more than thirteen, but she had the teenage attitude down pat. “Why would I go to a second-rate school like that?” She examined her bright-blue nail polish and rubbed at a chipped spot. “I’m going to Barnard or Wellesley.”

  The girl wore a pair of denim shorts, a pink T-shirt with I’M A GENIUS printed in black, and metallic high-top sneakers. Her white-blond hair was in a braid, and she shoved her oversize, black-framed glasses on her head to hold back her long bangs.

  She gazed at him, as if waiting for a response. But when Spencer remained silent, she shrugged, picked up the phone, and said, “Your eleven thirty is here.” Hanging up, Chloe announced, “The chief will see you now.”

  Spencer still didn’t trust her. “Are you sure?”

  Chloe wrinkled her nose and said, “Of course. Go ahead.”

  Spencer shrugged and walked over to the door the girl indicated. He grabbed the knob and swung it open. A fortysomething woman sat on the lap of a slightly older man. The couple was kissing, the remains of their brunch abandoned on the desktop in front of them.

  At Spencer’s entrance, they looked up and the woman checked her watch, then said, “Oops. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Jet surprised me. He just got home from his latest tour of duty.” She got to her feet and crossed to Spencer. “I’m Meredith Cleary.”

  “Spencer Drake.” Spencer shook her hand and said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Chloe told me you were ready to see me, but I guess she didn’t really call you. I can wait outside.”

  “No.” Chief Cleary chuckled. “My daughter isn’t too thrilled about my second marriage. She wanted me to stay a widow forever.”

  “I see.” Spencer waited until the chief’s husband finished stuffing the remains of their meal into a paper bag, then introduced himself.

  “Jet Porter.” The men shook hands and Jet said, “Nice to meet you. My son is on your team at NU. He admires the direction you’re taking with security.”

  “You’re Robert Porter’s father?” Spencer could see the resemblance. Both men were tall, lean, and had the same coal-black hair. “I enjoy working with him. He’s been an asset in many situations.”

  Jet beamed. “I’m real proud of him.” His dark-brown eyes sparkled as he turned to his wife, kissed her cheek, and said, “I’d better get going before I totally ruin your reputation as a hard-ass.”

  “Right.” Meredith took her husband’s hand and walked with him to the door. “Mustn’t let the troops know that I have a personal life.”

  “Chloe and I will go do some father-daughter bonding at the mall.”

  “Really?” Meredith stared at her husband with a questioning expression. “Last time you took her shopping, you vowed to never set foot in a store with her again.”

  “Did I?” Jet looked at Spencer and winked. “I guess I should remember that every conversation with a woman is recorded for training and quality-assurance purposes.”

  Spencer snickered.

  Meredith swatted her husband’s arm and ordered, “Get out of here.”

  Jet twisted the knob. “If I’m not home by dinnertime, send in the SWAT team.”

  “Watch your six.” Meredith closed the door behind her husband, then gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”

  Once they were settled, Spencer said, “Thank you for meeting with me.”

  Meredith nodded. “I’ve been meaning to invite you in since you were hired.” She leaned back in her chair and said, “Because Regina Bourne was a NU student, I’m guessing this is about her murder.”

  “Yes.” Spencer adjusted the crease in his trousers, glad he’d decided to wear a suit today. “I was hoping you could bring me up-to-date on the progress your department has made on the case and let me know if any of the suspects are connected to the university.”

  Meredith picked up a gold pen. Hitting it against her palm, the chief gazed at him as if taking his measure, then said, “We don’t usually discuss an active investigation with anyone outside the department.”

  “I understand.” Spencer wasn’t sure how to respond. It was hard to read Meredith’s expression. “But I’d really appreciate it if you could make an exception.” Recalling the chief’s teenage daughter, he added, “My niece Ivy was at the Bourne girl’s party.”

  “Yes, I know. Detective Mikeloff noted that in his report.” Meredith crossed her arms. “But she doesn’t seem to be a serious suspect. At least no more so than Ms. Bourne’s other friends and associates.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Spencer met the chief’s eyes. “So who is?”

  “That’s not something I can share with you.” Meredith tapped some keys and peered at her computer monitor. “But I can assure you that person has nothing official to do with the university.”

  “And by official”—Spencer kept all expression from his face—“you mean that she runs a business that sells to-go lunches to the students.”

  “Perhaps.” Meredith’s voice was cool. “What’s your interest in this person?”

  “She’s my niece’s landlady,” Spencer said, and when the chief raised her eyebrow, he added, “And I feel like I owe her whatever help I can provide. She’s always kept an eye out for Ivy.”

  “Mmm.” Meredith’s mouth pursed, then her lips curved upward. She stared at him for a second, gave a small shrug, and said, “If you already know that Danielle Sloan is a suspect, why are you here?”

  “Two reasons,” Spencer answered quickly. It seemed as if the chief might be willing to throw him a bone or two and he wanted her to trust him. “One. Has the medical examiner completed his report yet?”

  Meredith tapped a few more keys. “He finished it this morning.”

  “Anything you’re willing to share?” Spencer asked. “I understand the preliminary fi
nding was that an insulin overdose was the cause of death.”

  “That’s true,” Meredith confirmed.

  “Was there anything else found?” Spencer leaned forward. “Anything that would help nail down an alibi?”

  Meredith hesitated, then said, “When you asked for this appointment, I reviewed your employment record and spoke to several people in law enforcement about you.” She brought her fingertips together. “Everyone assures me that you are a good guy.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” Spencer smiled. Who had vouched for him?

  “But all I can tell you is that there’s nothing in the ME’s report that will help anyone establish an alibi.”

  “Shit,” Spencer muttered, took a deep breath to calm himself, then said, “Okay. On to my second reason for this meeting.”

  “Detective Mikeloff.” Meredith chuckled and Spencer realized that his mouth had dropped open. She sighed. “Yes. I’m aware there’s an issue with my officer.”

  Meredith rose, unlocked a file cabinet, and took out a thick folder. Returning to her seat, she placed the file precisely in the center of her desktop.

  “You know that, but Mikeloff is still working for you?” Spencer asked, frowning.

  “There’s no proof he’s done anything wrong…yet.” Meredith’s straight, white teeth gleamed in a predatory smile. “Tell me why he concerns you.”

  “First, there’s his reputation as a vengeful prick who is willing to set up innocent people if he has a grudge against them.” Spencer held up one finger, then added another. “Second, he was out of control when he interviewed my niece and her friends.”

  “And third?” Meredith asked.

  “Third, his prime suspect is the person who fired his nephew.”

  “Ah.” Meredith flipped open the folder and jotted something down. “Ms. Sloan was previously employed in the HR department of Homestead Insurance. I take it Mikeloff’s nephew worked there.”

  “Yes. His last name is different, but he’s a dead ringer for his uncle.”

  “I wish that was enough to remove Mikeloff from the case, but it isn’t.” Meredith scowled. “His union rep would make too big a stink.”

  “Because solving this murder is a sure step up the ladder to sergeant?”

  “Yep.” Meredith gazed into space, then said, “Although there’s nothing I can do right now about removing Mikeloff, I will make sure he understands that I expect him to focus on more than one suspect and that I’m aware of his nephew’s relationship with Ms. Sloan.”

  “That would be terrific.”

  “I would be very interested in any evidence you can give me that can be used to get rid of him. I’d consider it a favor to the department.” She paused. “And in return, I will keep you informed regarding the Bourne investigation.”

  Spencer stood and shook the chief’s hand. “You’ve got a deal.”

  As he left the chief’s office, Spencer grinned. The meeting with Chief Cleary had gone much better than he’d expected, but he still needed to see the complete ME’s report, so the hundred he’d given Hiram wasn’t wasted.

  Spencer’s pulse raced. And even better, he had something positive to tell Dani. But first he wanted to talk to the reporter. After that, he’d call Dani and find out the title of the book Dr. Demented was so interested in getting back.

  Chapter 17

  Dani had been sitting in the frigid room for over an hour. Shivering, she stared at the mirrored wall, which she was sure was two-way glass. Her stomach knotted. Was someone observing her? Was this some kind of test?

  The overhead lights flickered as chills chased up her spine. In a futile attempt to get warm, Dani wrapped her arms around herself. She was an idiot. She should never have opened her door, let alone agree to come to the station with the scary detective. She should have called Spencer.

  Dani had just finished with the lunch rush and had been about to look for Kipp’s book when the doorbell had started ringing. Rushing into the foyer, she saw Mikeloff’s face peering through the side window. When she’d hesitated, he’d pounded on the old glass so hard she was afraid the pane would break.

  As soon as she’d unlocked the door and opened it a few inches, Mikeloff had snarled, “If you don’t want Ivy Drake to spend the night in jail for the murder of Regina Bourne, you’ll accompany me downtown right now and tell me everything I want to know.” He’d poked her in the shoulder and repeated, “Everything. Are we clear?”

  Mikeloff had ignored Dani’s questions, barely giving her time to grab her purse and lock up before hurrying her into his unmarked Chevy Impala. Although she’d been relieved that it wasn’t a squad car with sirens, flashing lights, and a steel mesh cage between the front and back seats, her heart had thudded so loud, she could barely hear the detective’s rantings.

  Then when he’d nearly rear-ended a truck, passing it half on the sidewalk, she’d yelped and clutched the dashboard, positive they were about to crash.

  Mikeloff had glanced at her and sneered, “No. I do not have road rage. I just assertively maneuver around morons that don’t know how to drive.”

  “Why don’t you simply give them a ticket?” Dani had asked.

  “I’m a detective, not a patrol officer,” Mikeloff had snapped.

  The detective had then proceeded to ignore Dani during the remainder of the short drive. He’d refused to explain his statement about Ivy or reveal if the girl was already in custody. Once they arrived at the police station, Mikeloff had parked in the staff lot behind the building, hustled her in through the back entrance, up the stairs, and into the room where she now sat, her emotions vacillating between boredom and fear.

  Dani took a deep breath. The overwhelming smell of vomit mixed with disinfectant made her gag. Breathing through her mouth, she eyed the door. Could she just walk out?

  Had Mikeloff locked it? The detective had secured her purse in a file drawer and she had nothing in her pockets, but surely someone would give her a ride home. Or at least let her make a phone call.

  She’d just pushed back her chair, determined to leave, when she heard shuffling footsteps and the rattle of the doorknob. Mikeloff marched into the room. He had a folder under his arm and a steaming mug in his hand. The concerned expression on his face confused Dani, and she wrinkled her brow. What had changed the detective’s attitude from belligerent to sympathetic?

  Mikeloff leaned close to her—his breath reminded her of rotten vegetables and sewer water. Barely keeping the repulsed look off her face, Dani scooted her chair back from him and made a show of crossing her legs.

  The detective placed the coffee near her hand, dropped into the seat across from her, and said conversationally, “I don’t know why they keep it so cold in here.”

  “That’s for sure.” Dani warmed her fingers on the cup. “Thank you.” Straightening her spine, she said, “Now that I’ve had a chance to think about this, I’m not sure what I can tell you. If Ivy is in trouble, it would probably be best for me to call her uncle.”

  “Mr. Drake is a busy man and I bet his girlfriend isn’t too thrilled with all the time he’s spending helping you and Miss Drake.” Mikeloff rubbed the back of his neck. “Why don’t we see if you and I can straighten this out before we bother him?”

  Spencer had a girlfriend? Disappointment hit Dani like a fifty-pound sack of flour, but she shook it off and, ignoring the tiny voice inside her head that was urging her to shut up and leave, asked, “How?”

  “I just need to know what happened.” The detective’s voice was as sticky as melted tar. “Once we get that cleared up, you can go, and we probably won’t even have to bring Miss Drake into the station.”

  “Well…” Dani took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. It was not only unsweetened; it was also more like motor oil than a tasty beverage.

  “Let’s start with you spelling your first and last name for me.”
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br />   Dani complied.

  “Although your name is Danielle, most people call you Dani, right?” When she nodded, the detective recited her address. “Is that correct?” When she nodded again, he asked, “How long have you lived there?”

  “About two months.”

  “And you rent out rooms to Ivy Drake, Starr Fleming, and Tippi Epstein.”

  “Uh-huh.” Dani wondered why he was asking her stuff he already knew.

  Mikeloff then went over her age, marital status, and her work history.

  The questions were easy and just as she was beginning to relax, the detective said, “Dani, do you know the purpose of this interview?”

  “To talk about Regina Bourne’s murder.” Dani tensed. “Right?”

  “Correct.” Mikeloff flipped open the folder that he’d placed in front of him. “We’re here to figure out what happened that night after everyone left the party.”

  “I don’t see how I can help you with that.” Dani crossed her arms.

  “You should realize that if you had something to do with the murder, we will eventually find evidence against you, so in the long run, it would be better for you if you told me whatever you know right now.”

  “But I didn’t do anything.” A weight descended on Dani’s chest, stealing her breath. “I didn’t even know she was dead until Monday when you told me.”

  “But you’re the only one who had an argument with the victim just before she died.” Mikeloff pointed his pen at Dani. “If she’d spread the word around through her parents’ friends that you were an unreliable caterer, she’d have ruined your business.”

  “I told you before—” Panic clogged Dani’s throat. Swallowing, she took a few seconds to come up with a response that wouldn’t make her look guilty. “It wasn’t that big a deal. Would I have lost a few referrals? Probably. Would it have slowed down the growth of my company? Possibly. But it wouldn’t have bankrupted me.”

  The detective curled his lip and waved his hand dismissively. “You can’t be sure of that. Especially in the heat of the moment.”