by Debra Webb
“As far as I know.” Any time Alex’s mother deviated from her pattern, she and Shannon worried. Margie Jackson was a recovering alcoholic. If Alex hadn’t been running behind this morning she might have noticed that her mother hadn’t left yet. Damn it. This was not the way she wanted to start her day.
“Let me know if you hear from her,” Alex grumbled as she headed for her office.
Never Happened was made up of only four rooms. The lobby in front, which served as the reception area and Shannon’s office. A narrow hall led to Alex’s dinky office. Across that short hallway was a good-sized lounge that also included a desk for her mother. Though her mother wouldn’t go near a dead body, she was an advertising genius. The hallway ended at a huge storeroom complete with an employee’s restroom and a side exit to the alley. The latter had been the key selling point for Alex. All her supplies were housed in that storeroom. The handy side exit allowed for easy loading and unloading of the necessary materials for any given assignment.
Alex waved at Hernandez. He gave her one of those male nods as he lifted boxes of supplies to their proper shelves. Antonio Hernandez was barely thirty, gorgeous, and as strong as a bull. A genuinely nice guy, he spent most of his time off competing in bodybuilding competitions and keeping his girlfriend happy.
The people who worked here were what mattered. They were the heart of the business.
Alex hurried around the corner of her desk and dropped her bag onto the only vacant spot on the floor near her chair. She was really behind on her paperwork. Files, including incoming shipment invoices and outgoing payment receipts, were stacked on the corners of her desk. At some point soon she had to tryout the test products, many still in their boxes, sitting here and there around the room. Finding a great new cleaning product was an important part of staying competitive.
Never Happened was a broad-spectrum cleanup service. They cleaned up most anything. Calls generally involved someone’s passing, whether by natural causes or those not so natural. There was the occasional meth lab deserted by some scumbag who had or hadn’t been caught. Once in a while Alex got a request from folks who had experienced some sort of animal invasion, like a young gator gaining access through an open patio door and getting swallowed by the family’s pet Burmese python. Big snake. Big mess. Alex and her team always got the job done.
She picked up the day’s schedule Shannon had placed on her desk. An elderly couple, dead two weeks, had been found in their Coral Gables home. Cause of death was listed as natural by their attending physician, which meant the police wouldn’t be holding up the scene. Apparently both had suffered from serious heart conditions. With no family in the state to look in on them and the neighbors under the assumption the couple had gone on vacation, no one had realized there was a problem until the stench reared its ugly head.
Hernandez and the Professor would head out around eight to take care of that one. The family, who’d arrived in town only yesterday, had requested additional services to include cleaning the carpet throughout the home and washing down all walls and ceilings.
Thank God the couple’s air-conditioning had kept the house below seventy-five degrees. The mess would be bad enough, but there was nothing as bad as a body that had roasted in Miami’s summer heat. The July climate turned a closed-up, non-climate-controlled house into a virtual oven. Not a pleasant situation.
The Professor poked his head through her door. “Have you read the Herald this morning?”
Alex tossed the schedule aside and picked up her latte. “Haven’t had time. Did you find something interesting?” She savored the sweet concoction as she waited for the Professor to share the news she’d missed.
“I think perhaps you should read this for yourself.”
He made the short journey to and around behind her desk. Alex leaned back out of the way while he spread the paper in front of her. He tapped the headline Detective’s Death Under Investigation.
“Isn’t he a friend of yours?” the Professor asked.
Somehow her cup found its way back to her desk as she skimmed the front-page article recounting the tragic automobile accident of a longtime criminal investigations detective...
Detective Louis Hitchcock
“Ohmigod...” Alex looked up at the Professor. “I saw him yesterday.” Her breath caught. “I talked to him last night.” I slept with him three months ago...
Dread and hurt welled in her chest. How could this have happened? Hitch been fine when they talked.
The Professor gestured to the paper. “According to the article, the accident likely occurred between ten and eleven last night. There aren’t that many details given.”
Her thoughts whirling, Alex grappled to remember the approximate time he’d called last night. After her bath… she’d thought she’d heard someone on her porch.
Nine-thirty or tenish maybe. Jesus.
He could have died only a few minutes after they’d talked. Why hadn’t she said something like how good it had been to see him that day? Why hadn’t she just said yes to dinner on Friday?
Hitch was dead.
She blinked away the disbelief. “Thanks, Professor.”
Alex didn’t notice when he left the room, but he was gone the next time she glanced around her office. She tried to reconcile herself to what she’d just read.
Hitch was dead.
She forced herself to read the entire article. It didn’t specify the details, but it did mention that the one-car accident was under investigation. When he’d called her, he’d said he was going to see the computer whiz kid who’d unofficially analyzed the contact lens.
Had he made it to the guy’s house?
Did the police even know where he’d been headed?
Alex sagged in her chair, let the cold, harsh reality wash over her. Now she’d never get to tell him that if she’d been the type for commitment, he could have been the guy.
Shaking off the painful thought, she considered that she had spoken with Hitch last night, possibly only minutes before he died. Any information she could offer that might help the investigation was not only her civic duty, it was her obligation as a friend.
Alex grabbed her bag and put thought into action.
The Professor and Hernandez had this morning’s schedule under control. Unless something new came up, she could spare a couple of hours. The final reports she’d been meaning to complete and the other paperwork she needed to review could wait.
Her friend was dead.
That wouldn’t wait.
Miami Beach PD, 1100 Washington Avenue
The Miami Beach Police station was located in a building that defined the Art Deco style. The Criminal Investigations Unit called the third floor home. The division was laid out in a grid pattern with dozens of metal desks floating amid a sea of gray carpeting.
She waved to a couple of the detectives she’d worked with on occasion and basically ignored the guys who openly leered. Not that she minded when a man showed his appreciation for her hard work and good genes, but these guys were just being jerks. Most had wives and kids at home.
Yet another reason to stay unattached. You didn’t have to worry about a cheating husband if you didn’t have one. Didn’t have to worry about mismatched socks. Dirty boxers or dishes piled in the sink. Life was just less complicated when one stayed single.
She wove through the maze of desks until she reached the one belonging to Detective Jimmy Patton. He and Hitch hadn’t been partners that long, only since Hitch’s longtime partner had retired and moved to Maine last fall.
When Patton looked up Alex recognized the exhaustion and the pain in his eyes. He’d likely been up all night.
“Jackson,” he said, acknowledging her presence but immediately returning his attention to the file in front of him.
She was pretty sure his reluctance to maintain eye contact was about keeping his emotions to himself. She’d had a hell of a time repairing her makeup after her cry on the drive over.
“Hey, Patton.”
She sat down in the chair next to his desk. “I heard about Hitch. Man, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he’s gone. Do you know what happened?”
He shook his head, spared her another brief glance. “Techs are...ah... checking out his car for mechanical failures, but it looks like he fell asleep at the wheel. Just ran off the road. He’d been putting in way too many hours lately. I tried to tell him.” The sigh that punctuated his final statement as well as his emphatic attempts to refocus his attention on the file gave away just how badly Hitch’s death had shaken him. “The M.E.’s preliminary report says cause of death was head trauma.”
His words hit Alex hard. Hitch hadn’t sounded the least bit sleepy or even tired when she’d spoken to him. In fact, he’d sounded hyped. Her intuition was humming like crazy. She’d initially thought that she was merely in denial about Hitch’s death, but it was more than that.
Deep breath. Take it slow. “That’s why I came by,” she said, unsure whether what she had to say was relevant yet certain she didn’t want to keep it to herself. Who knew what could prove significant in an investigation. “Hitch called me last night at around nine-thirty, maybe ten.”
Patton picked up a small spiral notepad and shuffled through the pages until he’d found what he was looking for. “Yeah, we got that from his cell phone. I know you did a cleanup on an unattended suicide he’d covered. I planned to touch base with you and see if the call he made to you had anything to do with that.” His gaze connected with hers then. “Or if maybe the two of you...”
He let the sentence trail off. Alex didn’t have to say anything, he read the truth in her eyes. She and Hitch hadn’t started going out again. Patton looked away as if he’d rather she’d lied to him. Partners talked about their personal lives. She wouldn’t have expected any less.
“He didn’t talk to you last night?” Alex found the idea unreasonably troubling considering she’d passed along a piece of possible evidence that Hitch had obviously been excited about. Wouldn’t he tell his partner?
Patton scrubbed his hand over his face. “I was at the hospital until I heard about the accident. My wife went into labor a little early.”
Alex had forgotten his wife was expecting. Well that certainly explained his being left out of the loop last night. “Is everything okay?”
He grinned but the effort was a little dim under the circumstances. “Yeah. A girl. Eight pounds one ounce. She’s a doll.”
Something far too similar to longing pierced a tender place deep inside Alex. She evicted the sentimental ache and gave herself a swift mental kick for even allowing the senseless emotion to rear its pointless head. She’d made her decisions about husbands and kids long ago. Hearing about other people’s kids didn’t usually bother her. The emotional roller coaster this morning was about Hitch.
She still couldn’t believe he was dead. She kept expecting to turn around and hear him tossing some silly joke at her or asking her if she had plans this weekend.
Shaking off the painful thoughts, she did what she’d come here to do. “I don’t know if this makes any difference,” she began, unsure exactly how to explain the situation, “but I gave Hitch a piece of what may have been evidence from the Crane suicide scene.”
Patton sat up a little straighter, his attention sharpening a bit. “What sort of evidence? Hitch’s report says the incident was cut-and-dried. No questions on his end. I haven’t seen the autopsy report yet—they’re a little backed up over at the morgue—but the M.E. didn’t mention expecting anything unusual, according to Hitch’s notes.”
She nodded. He was right on all counts. Hitch hadn’t said anything different to her. “I gave him a peculiar… thing.” God, how did she say this? “It was part of his eye. Like a weird contact lens.” Well that surely explained what she meant. Frustration brimmed. “Hitch took it to a friend for an unofficial analysis,” she offered in lieu of a better explanation. “When he called me last night he was wound up about it. He said he was going over to pick the lens up and that he’d be taking it to the state lab this morning. He sounded pretty excited.”
Patton’s gaze narrowed with keener interest. “Do you know who he was going to see?”
Alex shook her head. “Not a clue. Some computer whiz. Like I said, he was excited. I can’t see him falling asleep at the wheel when he’d sounded fully alert when we spoke.”
Patton glanced at his watch and swore. “I have a meeting.” He stood. “Listen, if you think of anything else Hitch said that might be relevant, give me a call.” He passed Alex a business card. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything about the memorial service.”
Alex tucked the card into her bag, thanked him, and made her way through the maze of cold metal desks without stopping to chat with anyone. She wanted to get out of here and to some place where she could think. The idea that just yesterday Hitch would have walked her out if she’d dropped by to see him had her on the verge of hyperventilating.
A detective who looked vaguely familiar almost bowled her over as he bounded past her. Alex felt like slugging him but didn’t want the hassle. She needed out of here. She couldn’t breathe.
“Patton,” she heard the cop who’d been in such a hurry say, “I’ve got the preliminary on that Morningside house explosion.”
Alex’s feet slowed. Maybe it was oxygen deprivation. Morningside? Wasn’t that neighborhood where Hitch had been going last night? She lingered, wanted to hear the rest of what the detective had to say.
“They found a body, but it was burned so badly it’ll take some time to ID.”
Alex told herself she was probably overreacting. A lot of people lived in Morningside—this explosion likely had nothing to do with Hitch’s friend who lived there. It could be anything from a secret meth lab to a gas leak.
“You take a ride over there,” Patton suggested. “I’ll join you after my meeting.”
Alex turned around, waited for Patton and the other detective to catch up to her. There was one more thing she had to know. “By the way, where did Hitch’s accident happen?” The paper hadn’t given the location.
Patton looked mildly annoyed that she had waylaid him or maybe the exhaustion was making him testy. “Over on 1-95 near Hallandale. Why?”
She shrugged. “Just wondered.”
Patton eyed her suspiciously. “Is there something more you need to tell me, Jackson? He was my partner.”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing like that.” The white lie felt bitter on her tongue. She should just tell him. “I was just curious that’s all.” But he’d basically blown her off. What was it he’d said? If you think of anything else Hitch said that might be relevant...
“See you around,” he muttered.
Watching Patton go, she realized what she had to do next. She had to know why Hitch’s vehicle had been found way north of where he’d told her he was going. But first she wanted to know if a computer genius had lived in the Morningside residence where the explosion had occurred. She also wanted to know if the crime scene techs had found the contact lens in Hitch’s car. Or if they’d found anything at all that suggested the accident wasn’t an accident.
She wanted to know a lot. She needed enough to give Patton reason to consider Hitch’s death suspicious. Since she wasn’t a cop, the chances of Patton listening to her until she had something substantial were slim to none.
No problem. She had her own sources and methods. Patton wouldn’t like it if he found out. Didn’t matter. She owed it to Hitch to look into this. Patton wasn’t taking her seriously. He was preoccupied, she understood.
Alex might not be a detective, but she definitely knew her way around the scene of the crime. All she needed was access.
Chapter 6
Alex called her office as she climbed into her SUV. Shannon answered on the first ring. Alex waited patiently while she went through her Never-Happened-we-can-make-anything-go-away spiel. “Hey, do me a favor, will you?”
“I was just about to call you.”
Damn. Alex didn’t have time to respond to a client call right now. Not that she resented plenty of business, but this just wasn’t a good time. “What’s up?”
“There was a strange call for you a few minutes ago. Some really odd guy.”
A frown scrunched its way across Alex’s forehead. She elected not to point out to Shannon that there were a lot of odd guys in a city the size of Miami. “Did this odd man have a name?”
“He wouldn’t leave his name. It was very strange. He asked if today was your birthday. When I said no, he asked when it was. I suggested he leave his name and number so you could return his call and he hung up on me.”
Shannon was right, that was a little weird. Alex couldn’t think of anyone she’d ticked off lately. “I suppose if he really wants to know he’ll call back.” Alex started the engine and backed out of the parking slot. Every business suffered its share of cranks and jerks. “Did Marg ever come in?”
“Eventually,” Shannon said covertly.
Alex imagined Shannon craning her neck to make sure Marg wasn’t listening. She didn’t like that Shannon and Alex kept such close tabs on her. But it was necessary. When her mother fell off the wagon Alex was the one to pick up the pieces. Anytime Marg deviated from her routine, Alex went on alert. She’d survived that journey far too many times already.
“Keep an eye on her.”
“Will do. What’s the favor you needed?” Shannon asked.
“How about checking your sources for anything on an explosion over in Morningside. It happened sometime late last night or early this morning.”
Another call came in and Shannon promised to get back to her ASAP.
Alex pulled out onto the street, her mind rolling over the idea that Hitch was dead. She would miss him. If she hadn’t found that stupid contact lens and called him about it, maybe he’d still be alive. The part that really disturbed her was the call from him last night. He’d sounded so animated. The guy who did the analysis had to have given him substantial feedback to get Hitch that pumped. And why had he driven toward Hallandale after picking up the analysis? He didn’t live in that direction and hadn’t mentioned taking the lens to anyone else before turning it over to the lab this morning. It didn’t make sense.
