“Hi, Shannon. Are you looking for Joshua?” Father Daniel asked as he stepped toward her.
“Yeah. Have you seen him?”
“Actually, I haven’t. Not since he’s been back. I wasn’t expecting him back until next month, but I did talk to him on the phone earlier today. That’s when I told him about the fundraiser, and he volunteered to work. Of course his caveat was that he partner with you,” Father said with a sheepish smile. “I figured you’d be okay with that since so much time has passed.”
“No problem. He and I talked earlier today as well,” Shannon replied. What was she supposed to say? After all, it was for the good of the church, and due to the abundant number of clients this year, every available volunteer was a welcome sight, especially those with beautiful voices such as Joshua. Shannon recalled how his glorious voice always landed him the lead in the Christmas pageant before he’d decided to leave her and run off to Nicaragua with the mission group.
Father cleared his throat. “Yeah, I assumed you had. Joshua said he was going to pay you a visit at work.” He shifted his gaze about the room. “I wonder where he is.”
Shannon shrugged.
She visited with the others while she waited for Joshua. Several more minutes passed. Still no Joshua. She glanced at her full clipboard. The clock was ticking. There were so many deliveries to make and so little time. After a few more minutes, she and Father Daniel decided she’d better just get started on her own. There were no cupids left to help her.
Chapter Eight
Captain Jackson yelled across the precinct as she stepped through her office doorway, “Spinelli, tell me you guys have something on this cupid case.”
He, Walker, and Marsh exchanged glances. He knew they were of like mind, wishing they either had something to go on or that they were anywhere Jackson wasn’t.
Jackson walked toward them, her gait brisk. Her short brown curls bounced with every step she took. Her dark brown eyes fixed on Spinelli. Though she was a small woman, all of one hundred and thirty pounds, she managed to scare the hell out of him at times. Her twenty-plus years on the force had hardened her, but overall Spinelli liked her. She was smart, good at what she did, and fair.
Jackson stepped up to the board and studied the pictures of the dead cupids for a moment before she returned her gaze to Spinelli. “Well?”
He shook his head in shame. “Nothing. We’ve got nothing.” He glanced at Marsh. “Marsh has been going through their financials, computer records, and contact lists but is coming up empty on making any sort of connection between the three of them.”
Jackson inspected the board again. “So you think these are just all random cupids?”
“It’s looking that way.”
She glanced at the cell phone in her hand and tapped the screen a couple of times. “Well, maybe this will help,” she said as Spinelli’s phone buzzed.
He pulled it from its holder on his hip and glanced at the text message she’d just sent. “What’s this?”
“The address of dead cupid number four. The call came through a minute ago.”
“Son of a bitch,” Spinelli growled.
He looked past Jackson to find Walker and Marsh staring back at him, their jaws nearly on the floor.
Spinelli and Walker drove to the crime scene. Marsh continued frantically analyzing the records of the murdered cupids. He needed to find something, anything, because four dead cupids on Valentine’s Day, and their lack of finding the killer and preventing a fifth murder, made for an unwanted major news story. They didn’t need any more bad press.
Walker drove toward the downtown Hyatt. He shifted lanes and glanced toward Spinelli. “Well, are you going to tell me why you were such a prick to Shannon?”
Spinelli stared out the window debating what to say, if anything.
Walker filled the silence, “In case you hadn’t figured it out yet, she’s a keeper, and keepers don’t come around that often.”
Just this morning Spinelli would have agreed with Walker. The ring in his pocket was proof. But now he didn’t know what to think. He loved her, and even though they’d gotten off to a rocky start, he knew from the first moment he laid eyes on her, he had to make her his. He hadn’t told her he loved her yet. They’d only been dating for slightly over two months. He’d planned on using the “L” word tonight. He thought she loved him as well, but seeing her kissing another man earlier in the day indicated he was clearly mistaken.
His chest tightened around his aching heart. His shoulders slumped under the weight he carried. Perhaps he should unload his burden and tell Walker what had happened. Maybe Walker would know what to do. He had experience when it came to commitment. He and his wife Jeana had been married for nearly ten years.
Spinelli’s head spun to put his thoughts in order. He couldn’t seem to find the proper words, even just for Walker. He normally liked to take the direct approach, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to say the words aloud. The thought of actually saying them made it seem more real.
He stared out the windshield. Puffy snowflakes, the kind you get with a common Great Lakes-effect snowstorm, fell to the ground, making the ground look pure and clean. He once thought of Shannon as pure. In fact, in the beginning he thought maybe she was too pure and good for someone like him, but that all seemed to change about four hours ago. The windshield started to frost over. A moment ago he could see the streets of Milwaukee clearly, now he struggled to focus on them.
Walker pushed the defrost button. The windshield cleared. Maybe Walker had some sort of ‘defrost’ button he could use to help him see and understand Shannon’s actions more clearly.
“Well, are you going to tell me or just sit there stewing on it?”
“I saw Shannon kissing another man who called himself her fiancé,” Spinelli blurted before he turned to look at Walker who kept his gaze on the road. His expression didn’t change. Walker was good at that. Even in crisis, Walker always looked the same.
“I see.”
Spinelli’s fists clenched. He sucked in a breath and expelled it. “When I went upstairs to see if she wanted to get some lunch, I saw her in the hallway outside her office with a man, Caucasian, dark hair, 5’10”, about 170 pounds.”
“Get a good look at him, did you?” Walker asked, his eyes unwavering from the road.
“It’s not funny.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
A few beats of silence passed.
“Are you sure?” Walker asked.
“Jesus Christ, I think I would know for sure if I saw my girlfriend kissing some other guy.”
Walker inhaled and expelled a breath. “What I meant was, are you sure he said fiancé? Maybe it was just some old boyfriend bugging her on Valentine’s Day.”
“They were pressed together so tight I would have needed a crowbar to separate them. I’d say she was pretty happy to see him, and I know what I heard. He said, ‘Aren’t you happy to see your fiancé?”
“The question indicates he wasn’t so sure she was happy to see him. Maybe she wasn’t. I take it she didn’t see you.”
“No. She was too busy.”
Walker turned his head in Spinelli’s direction. His look was sober. “You know you’re going to have to talk to her about this, right? This doesn’t sound like her. I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation.”
Spinelli stared out the windshield.
“I mean it, Spinelli. Don’t rule her out yet. Women like her are hard to come by.”
Walker parked the car in one of the transient spots near the front door of the Hyatt. He flashed his badge at the valet. The young man nodded. They continued on toward the elevators and rode up to the sixth floor.
Yellow tape already cordoned off the crime scene. Debra poked her head out of the doorway of room 602. They ducked under the tape and entered the room. There he was, their fourth dead cupid of the day, spread-eagle on top of the bed, naked as a jaybird. His thin, pillowed, satin wings trimmed with gold colored garland were
sprawled around him. His bow lay next to him on the bed, and his quiver of arrows leaned up against the nightstand.
“Can you believe this shit?” the ME questioned as she pointed at cupid number four. Her eyes focused on Spinelli. “What in the hell? How many cupids are left in the city?”
Spinelli and Walker stepped up to the bedside. A small round serving tray, two wine glasses—one broken—and a single long-stemmed red rose lay on the floor several feet from the bed. Next to the mess stood a shiny metal champagne chiller on a stand. Only the stem of the champagne bottle stuck out above the ice.
Spinelli shifted his gaze to the dead man sprawled out on the bed. His heart pounded against his ribs, his cheeks burned, and the air drained from his lungs. His throat constricted. He fought for a breath. None came. He tried again. He caught some air on the second go around.
He could hear Walker talking to Debra and the Sergeant, but his mind wouldn’t process the words. He continued to stare down at the face of the victim. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from him.
Walker tapped him on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just...he just...has he been identified?”
Walker frowned. “Yeah, that’s what the Sergeant just told us. The room was rented to Dr. Joshua Meyers, and he matches that of the picture ID in the wallet on the desk over there,” Walker said as he pointed to the desk in the corner of the room.
“Doctor. That just figures,” Spinelli mumbled as he tried to make sense of it all.
“What?” Walker asked.
Spinelli glanced at the Police Sergeant and the ME then shifted his gaze to Walker. He shook his head. “Nothing, never mind.” He’d wait to tell Walker in private that the fourth dead cupid was the man he saw Shannon kissing earlier in the day.
“Debra, do you have an estimate as to the time of death or any ideas as to the cause of death?” Spinelli asked.
“Not long. Couple of hours, tops. Judging from the smell of almonds, I’m guessing we have another cyanide poisoned victim. He doesn’t have any visible wounds.”
A golf ball sized lump formed in Spinelli’s throat making it difficult to ask the Sergeant his next question. “Did you talk to any hotel staff? Did he check in with anyone?”
The Sergeant pointed to the doorway. “The shift manager is in the hall waiting for you guys. Earlier he said that Meyers was alone when he checked in at around 1:45.”
A wave of relief washed through Spinelli, but Shannon wasn’t off the hook yet. Why was the man she kissed only hours ago now dead? And who exactly was this man?
They stepped back into the hall to talk to the manager. Walker introduced himself and Spinelli. “Hi, I’m Marcus Grasse, the front desk manager,” Marcus responded in a shaky voice.
Spinelli’s silence caused Walker to start the questioning.
“So, you said Dr. Meyers checked in alone,” Walker stated.
The young manager nodded his head. He stood with his hands in his pockets and shifted from foot to foot, confirming his nervousness.
He looked to be in his early twenties. Probably his first real job out of college, and he winds up with a murder on his shift.
“Did you check him in or did someone else?”
Marcus shifted his gaze to the floor. “I did,” he whispered.
“Did he say anything when he checked in or was he acting unusual at all?”
The kid chewed on his lip for a moment, then released it from his teeth. “It was like any other routine check-in. He told me his name. I punched it in on the computer and found his reservation. I swiped his credit card, handed him his room key, and gave him a map of the hotel.”
“So he had a reservation?” Walker questioned.
“Yep.”
“Do you know when he made the arrangements?”
“It was earlier in the day, actually, shortly before he arrived. We’re not super busy during the week this time of year. I took the call myself while I was working the counter.”
“Who found him?”
Marcus pulled his hand from his pocket and ran it over his face. He pointed at a young woman sitting on a bench at the end of the hall. She was talking with a uniformed officer who stood by the caution tape dividing the perimeter from the rest of the world. Even from this distance, Spinelli easily noticed her red, swollen eyes. She took a pull from a bottle of water.
The three of them walked toward the woman. She rose to her feet as they ducked under the caution tape. Walker introduced himself and Spinelli. Her frantic gaze darted between the men then landed on Marcus. He gestured toward her. “This is Ashley Dart. She found Dr. Meyers when she delivered the champagne and rose he’d ordered shortly after he checked in.”
The young waitress swiped under her eyes with a balled up tissue.
“Ms. Dart, was anyone else in the room when you entered?”
She shook her head.
“So tell me how this works. You knocked on the door, no one answered, and you let yourself in?”
“Yes. When he ordered the room service, he specifically said he wanted the order brought up at 4:00. He wanted the champagne to chill on ice for a few hours. So I arrived at his door and knocked. He didn’t answer, so I knocked again and identified myself. Still no answer, so I spoke through the door and told him that I was going to let myself in. I entered the room and found him,” she sniffled and pressed on. “I was startled. I dropped the tray and ran out of the room. I didn’t stop until I found Marcus and told him what had happened. He called the police, and now here we are.”
Tears ran down her cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m crying like this. I don’t even know the man.”
Marcus nodded.
“Did you see anyone on your way up to make the delivery or on your way back down to the front desk?”
“I passed by lots of people, but I thought they were just regular guests.”
Spinelli pulled his wallet from his pocket, flipped it open, and retrieved a photo of him and Shannon. He stared at the photo for a brief moment wondering where he’d gone wrong. In the picture he was dressed as Santa, and Shannon wore a little red velvet dress.
The photo had been taken two months earlier while they were working in the Santa display at the mall. This was when he’d first met her. He remembered feeling utterly ridiculous through the whole undercover Santa job, but he did it for her. And it was a good thing he did or she probably wouldn’t be here today to tell her story. He’d snatched her from the boney hands of the Grim Reaper and took a bullet in the process. His chest tightened at the awful memory and what followed. He shook his head. So this is how she repaid him. She kissed another man; a man who had just turned up dead.
He tore his gaze from the photo and handed it to Ashley, “Have you ever seen this woman?” He watched as Walker glanced at the photo then shifted his confused gaze to him. He knew Walker wanted to say something, but he held his tongue.
“Yes,” Ashley replied with a nod.
Spinelli’s heart leaped into his throat. His lungs drained. Blood rushed through his veins at the speed of light. His mind reeled for a response. He hoped his ears had deceived him. “She was here?” he asked. His voice cracked.
“No, not here, but I’ve seen her before. That’s Ms. O’Hara. She’s my family’s caseworker. My stepdad, he’s a real prick to my mom and my younger stepbrothers,” Ashley’s eyes filled with tears again. “Oh no, is she okay? She’s been a godsend to my mother.”
Spinelli’s throat cleared and his lungs inflated. “She’s fine.” Ashley’s questioning gaze stayed on him but he offered nothing more. He refused to look at Walker who’d surely want an explanation. He’d get one as soon as they were finished at the crime scene.
Spinelli and Walker milled around the crime scene with a couple of forensic officers. Nothing looked unusual.
They headed toward the elevator. Walker pressed the button. They waited. Spinelli could feel Walker’s curious gaze on him. The doors opened, they stepped in, and the doors closed. T
hey were alone.
“Okay, do you want to tell me what in the hell that was all about?”
Spinelli looked at Walker, the elevator stopped, and a woman and child stepped through the doors. They rode the elevator in silence, and all exited on the main floor. Once in the unmarked, Spinelli spilled his guts. “The vic, Dr. Joshua Meyers, is the man I saw Shannon kissing in the hallway.”
Walker’s silence about killed Spinelli, and again Walker stared back with the usual unemotional look on his face. He started the car but didn’t shift it into drive. “Where is she now? Where was she going when she left us in the precinct?”
“Church. You can’t possibly...there’s got be a reasonable explanation for this,” Spinelli squeaked out.
“Don’t get me wrong. There’s no way she killed him or anyone else for that matter. But the way it looks right now, she was one of the last people to see the victim alive. I have to wonder, is she in danger as well? I know she doesn’t fit the profile of the other vics. All that said, I am puzzled by the fact you saw her...,” his voice trailed off.
Spinelli swallowed hard and finished Walker’s sentence. “Kissing him. I know what I saw.”
“So, where is she?”
“She’s at St. Mary’s church helping with the fundraiser.”
“What kind of fundraiser?”
Spinelli thought for a moment. His pulse pounded in his ears. His mouth went dry. “She’s playing the role as cupid’s helper,” his voice almost a whisper.
Walker’s eyes widened. “What?”
“They’re performing singing valentines and delivering chocolates and flowers.”
Walker shifted the car into gear, pulled into traffic, and headed in the direction of St. Mary’s.
Spinelli pulled his cell phone out and tapped the display screen. A picture of Shannon loaded. Her bright emerald eyes stared back at him. He pulled her up on the contact list and put the phone to his ear. The call went to voicemail. “Damn it!” he growled.
Craving Vengeance Page 5
