by Julia Derek
Larry let out a throaty chuckle. “You may not be a rookie any longer, but I’m still the veteran out of the two of us. And I need more evidence before I can view this as something other than a random attack for now. Especially since the victim’s wife claims her husband had no enemies, and neither does she. I need something more. Just something little.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see when we get to speak with her again,” Wil said and started the car they had parked outside a Duane Reade where Larry had gotten his Prozac prescription refilled. “Speak to her in-depth. She sent him a meaningful glance. “Let’s head to the station before we go over there. I have a few things I need to take care of there and we have a few hours to kill still. Here, take this.” She handed Larry the iPad.
As she pulled out from the curb, Larry looked down at the police report Wil had filed in regards to the Martinez murder.
“Can you tell me what else is in the report?” Wil requested, her eyes on the road before them. She smoothly passed a blue Volvo that drove at a snail’s pace.
She could feel Larry looking at her. “You wrote it. Don’t you remember?”
She huffed. “Not every single detail, smartass. Please indulge me by refreshing my memory.”
“Well, there isn’t much more in the report besides what you’ve already said.”
“There’s some more. Just read it to me. I know there were a few more details in there that I took down, and at least one made me think this was definitely not a crime of opportunity.”
“Are you referring to the fact that the murder weapon was left at the crime scene? Forensics did determine yesterday that it was in fact the knife used to stab the victim.”
Wil slapped the steering wheel and let out a whistle. “That’s it. It’s an odd thing to leave the murder weapon, isn’t it? Almost as though the killer wanted it to be found.”
“Maybe. The perp might have just dropped it and not bothered to pick it up again. Wait a sec. He or she probably did not do that…”
Wil shot him a look. “What makes you say that?”
Larry frowned down at the iPad. “It says here that there were no prints found on the handle of the knife or anywhere else.”
She gave him a triumphant smile. “Exactly. How big is the chance that we’re talking about a crime of opportunity now? If the perp just dropped the knife, there would likely have been prints on the handle. The only reason a person randomly attacking someone would not pick up the murder weapon is because someone was coming. In other words, there was no time. But forensics found no prints. I highly doubt the perp wore gloves, as it’s still in the high forties at night. And that night it was low sixties. Warmer than normal. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, I do,” Larry concurred and stared out the windshield. “It sure was an unusually warm night for this time of year.” He suddenly turned and she could feel his eyes on her. “Damn, Wil. I’m telling you, global warming is gonna get rid of all the seasons for us. You just wait and see. I can’t remember the last time it was this warm in November.”
Wil nudged his arm and smiled. “Stranger things have happened, Larry.”
* * *
Chapter 3
Kate had been home for a few hours when the doorbell to her apartment sounded. Checking the time, she smiled at Cassie and got to her feet. The two sat in her children’s room, where her son was drawing quietly at his desk. She prayed that the loud buzzing sound of the doorbell hadn’t woken Anna, who was taking a nap in Kate’s bedroom; her youngest was a momma’s girl and demanded to be with Kate whenever she was awake and Kate was at home. The toddler had an uncanny ability to sense when her mother was around.
“We’ll be in the living room,” she told Cassie. “Hopefully, it won’t take too long.”
“Don’t worry, Kate,” the perky brunette nanny responded and ran a calming hand over Kate’s arm. “I’ll have the situation in here under control.” Cassie turned to the little boy, who was looking at the two women with big, wary eyes. Eyes that were identical to his dead father’s brown ones, Kate couldn’t help but think each time their gazes connected, and a pang went through her chest. “We’re having fun drawing, aren’t we, Luis?” Cassie said to Luis.
“Yes, we are,” the boy said obediently and gave a dimpled smile. “Who’s coming, Mommy?”
“Oh, it’s just some friends of Mommy’s.”
“Are they Daddy’s friends, too?”
Momentarily stumped, Kate just stared at her son, another pang going through her chest, this one so strong her breath caught. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. She had yet to tell the truth about what had happened to Diego to their kids, and she was dreading the day when they would no longer buy the story of him having gone for an extended trip. It wouldn’t take much longer before at least Luis would get that his father had gone for a trip that would last forever, and that he would never see him again. Kate consoled herself with the fact that she still had some time before she would have to deal with that. When all was said and done, it really was amazing how well she was holding herself together. Thank God for Trevor. Her old flame had proven to be a great friend, calling her every night to make sure she was okay. He was truly a great guy. She put a hand on Luis’s soft black head and caressed his curly hair.
“Yes, they are Daddy’s friends, too, baby. Mommy will be right back. Be a good boy now and keep drawing that nice castle. I can’t wait to see what it’ll look like when it’s all finished.”
“Okay,” the boy said and immediately turned his attention back to his picture on the small desk, clearly content with the answer.
Kate hurried out of the room and made sure she closed the door behind her, then strode to the front door. If she didn’t get there soon, the detectives might ring the doorbell another time, and then they would definitely wake up Anna. So far, it seemed like she was still asleep, thankfully.
The same two detectives who had come to see her in the days after the murder were standing before her as the door swung open—a black, sturdy man in his mid to late forties and a much younger-looking, slender woman. The woman’s short, choppy blond hair was slicked back in a more conservative style today, and she was wearing a navy pantsuit and little makeup. Just like the first time Kate had laid eyes on the female detective, she was struck by her youthful appearance. Wilhelmina Cooper had the face of a girl in her early twenties, but Kate knew for a fact that she was much older than that, because she had Googled her after their first visit. She had been annoyed that the NYPD had sent a rookie cop to deal with the murder of her husband, which was partly why she had insisted that she wouldn’t be able to talk more than the bare minimum the day they came to see her. Because of her extreme grief, Detectives White and Cooper had agreed to return and talk more “when Kate had gotten a chance to deal with the tragedy that had befallen her.” Those had been Kate’s own words.
Sometime that night, in the midst of all the tears pouring down her face, Kate had Googled the name on the card the female cop had handed her, and she discovered that Wilhelmina Cooper had not only been on the force for ten years, but also that she was a decorated officer. Shame had burned Kate’s cheeks as she read about all that Detective Cooper had accomplished in her career in law enforcement, and for having written her off so completely based on her looks.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Kate said and stepped back so the detectives could enter her home.
“How are you holding up, Mrs. Martinez?” Detective White asked and gazed kindly at her as they walked to the living room together, Kate leading the way.
Kate wished he hadn’t asked that question. She knew he meant well, but by the mere action of having asked it, he caused her to feel so terribly sad it took all she had to control the tears that threatened to fill her eyes, and for her not to fall apart into a blubbering mess right there. Taking a long, deep breath, she managed as if by a miracle to regain her composure, however, and said in a fairly steady voice, “I’m okay, thank you. Please call me Kat
e.”
They reached the living room and Kate indicated the off-white couches there. “Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Detective Cooper answered, and her partner held up a hand to decline the offer as well.
All three of them took a seat, the detectives on the couch opposite the one Kate had chosen. A square wooden coffee table on which there were toys, tea mugs, and magazines sat between them.
Detective Cooper had magically produced a notebook and a pencil that she looked ready to use. “Kate, it’s been confirmed that the murder weapon used to attack your husband was found only feet away from his body. We have some photos of it that we would like to show you to see if you recognize it. Could you do that for us?”
Feeling sick to her stomach, Kate forced herself to say, “Okay.” The last thing she wanted to do was look at the knife that had taken her husband’s life, but she knew she must help these detectives do their job. It was the only way the killer would be found.
Detective White handed her a medium-sized iPad. “Here you go. There are a few of them. Just touch the screen and scroll and you’ll see.”
Swallowing hard, Kate ignored her stomach and did as she was told. As her gaze landed on the first photo, she pretended like she was just checking out knives that belonged in a museum—the knife in question looked antique, making this easy. She pretended that it had nothing at all to do with her and her life. Amazingly enough, the simple trick helped the nausea in her stomach to dissipate.
She stared at the ornate knife in the photos. It was on the bigger side with a golden handle on which there were carvings that made Kate think of ancient times. That, and its sharp angles made it look more like a little sword than a knife, the kind that might be rare, a collector’s item worth a lot of money. It was most definitely a unique knife, not the kind one would expect a murderer to use. She scrolled to the next photo, and the next and the next.
“Do you recognize it?” Detective Cooper asked, her voice prodding. Kate could tell that the other woman hoped that she did. She raised her gaze and met the starkly green eyes of the female detective.
“Not the knife per se,” she answered truthfully. “But I have to say that it’s a… an unusual knife. It looks very expensive and antique. Like it belongs in a museum.” Kate’s eyes went back to the knife and took in the sword-like shape of the blade and the golden handle with all its intricate patterns. “Is it possible that it’s from a museum?”
“No, this knife is not from a museum,” Detective White said firmly. “At least not from some American museum. That has already been determined. It’s possible that it’s from a foreign museum, but unlikely, as a knife of this size would have been almost impossible to get through customs. In other words, had it been stolen from an international museum, we would probably know about it already.”
The two cops looked at each other, and the black man gave his partner a small nod. Then he faced Kate again.
“Detective Cooper and I both feel that it’s likely this was a premeditated act now, Kate,” Detective White said. “As you know, at first we thought it might have been an isolated, random robbery, but the fact that there are no fingerprints anywhere on the murder weapon combined with other evidence such as it being placed near the victim as if to send a message suggest that it’s not. Of course, we had hoped that you might recognize the knife, which you didn’t, but maybe it was left there for another reason we have yet to determine.”
“Okay,” Kate said. “So, if it’s not someone who just robbed my husband, you’re saying that someone did it because they wanted to see Diego… dead?” She licked her lips, trying to wrap her mind around what she had just said. “That they only made it seem like the killing was part of the robbery?”
“Yes, that’s more or less it,” Detective Cooper inserted. “And that means we need to figure out who could have done this to your husband. To you and your family. Try your hardest to think about who could have done this in an attempt to hurt you and your family. There must be someone your husband rubbed the wrong way at some point in your lives. Or even you, quite frankly.”
Kate lowered her head and stared at the horrible knife that had destroyed her happy life with her beloved husband and two beautiful children. They hadn’t been rich with money and material goods, only with love, health, and lots of good friends. They had no enemies. She searched her mind to think of anyone who had an axe to grind with either her husband or herself, but, as the first time she was asked this question, her mind kept drawing a blank. She couldn’t think of a single person who didn’t like them, no matter how hard she tried. Not someone who hated them enough they’d kill to get even at least.
But according to these detectives, apparently she was wrong.
Someone in their life had resented them enough to kill Diego.
Who could that be?
* * *
Chapter 4
Detective Larry White studied the new widow with hidden amazement, at this tall, pretty redhead with the stub nose covered with freckles and the blue eyes so wide she looked perpetually startled. The young woman really didn’t think there was anyone in the world who would wish harm upon her husband or herself, so much harm they were willing to commit a gruesome murder. Ah, to be so innocent. In Larry’s experience, there was always someone out there who held a grudge against you, no matter how popular you were. In fact, the more popular you were, the more people there would be who resented you. And beautiful, bright people like Diego and Kate Martinez were especially likely to have secret enemies.
After Wil pointed out the part in the police report dealing with the murder weapon being left at the crime scene without prints, Larry had instantly come around to his partner’s line of thinking. It was the little something he’d needed to feel comfortable they were in fact dealing with someone with an axe to grind. It wasn’t that he’d been totally against Wil’s take on the case, but unlike her, he always erred on the side of caution. She was bold and relied more on her gut than on actual evidence to arrive at a theory, while he preferred his theories to be solidly backed up by tangible evidence. Their different approaches were what made them a great team. That big knife being dumped only feet away from the body and the precise stabbings—potentially to inflict as much pain as possible—all of this had made an impression on Larry as well, but it was only when forensics got back to them, telling them there were no prints that he felt they could conclusively say the murder did indeed seem premeditated. On their way over to Kate’s apartment building, Larry and Wil had discussed the most plausible reason for the killer to leave the knife at the crime scene, concluding that it appeared he or she had wanted to send Kate a message. Unfortunately, she didn’t recognize it at all. Larry had no doubt the woman was being sincere in regards to this.
Kate ran hands over her face and her long, wavy, red hair, looking distraught. “I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt either me or Diego. You really think it’s someone who’s trying to… to hurt us in some way?” She whispered those final words.
“Yes,” Wil confirmed. “Unless we’re dealing with a serial killer. That’s also a possibility.”
Kate gasped and her hands flew up to cover her pink lips. “A serial killer?” she murmured between her fingers.
“I’m sorry,” Wil said. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Kate. At the moment, it’s looking more like this is an isolated, premeditated incident, not the work of a serial killer, so that’s the theory we’re operating under. There are a couple of cases that are similar to your husband’s, but not that similar. Forget that I even brought it up.”
Kate blew out a breath and her shoulders relaxed. “Well, that’s a relief.”
Again, Larry’s and Wil’s gazes connected briefly, and Larry knew just what was going through Wil’s mind, the same as in his: Kate was wrong. If someone had it out for the Martinez family, Kate had lots more reason to worry than if a serial murderer had offed her hubby.
Not
that either of them were about to point that out to the widow. No point in upsetting her further.
“Let’s talk about Diego,” Larry said. In his opinion, it was far more likely that someone had killed Diego because they didn’t like him for some reason than someone having it out for Kate. Especially since Kate couldn’t think of anyone who might want to get back at her in any capacity. “How long have you known him?”
Kate screwed up those pink-painted lips of hers as she pondered the older cop’s question. It didn’t take long before she was done.
“We met about five years ago at a party,” she said. “This Thanksgiving it’ll be five years. I was twenty-four and he twenty-seven. We met at a friend’s party, the day before Thanksgiving Day. I spent that day with my parents. Diego and I hit it off right from the bat and started dating. Six months later, we got engaged and married shortly thereafter. I gave birth to Luis less than a month after our wedding day.”
“Okay,” Larry said. “What do you know of Diego’s life before you met him? Do you know all of his old friends and acquaintances?”
Kate seemed to ponder the question carefully before answering. “Yes. Diego and I were like this”— she twisted her long finger over her index finger to indicate just how close the two of them had been—“and we knew everything about each other. We had no secrets. That’s why I’m so shocked to hear that you think his murder is some form of retaliation against either of us.”
As Larry took in the young widow, he didn’t doubt that she’d meant every one of those words, and he was again reminded of how naïve the woman must be. Everybody had secrets. Or maybe it was just Larry who was jaded. It was hard to tell after all that he had seen working as a cop for more than two decades, never mind having gone through a divorce because his wife had cheated on him with several men. He had always known what she was doing, but he had given her chance after chance to make it right because he loved her so much, and also because they had a child together. She never did, and instead left him for one of her lovers in the end, taking their daughter with her. He had fought for custody in court, but she ultimately won full custody despite her checkered past. The judge had been the old-fashioned kind, believing it better for a child to have its mother as the primary caretaker unless the mother was completely unfit. Apart from his ex’s inability to stay true to him, she was a fairly fit mother, he reluctantly had to agree. Long story short, Larry had long since lost his innocence, and seeing so much of it in the woman seated in front of him was quite jarring.
