“They won’t be my ham and deviled eggs,” I retorted.
Chaz sighed in frustration then rose to his feet. “I don’t think he’s coming, Josh, so you can just forget about your little matchmaking schemes. He knows you’ve made me feel awkward and he didn’t want to ruin my dinner.” The phone started ringing so he headed to his desk by the front door. “By the way, your deviled eggs had too much mustard in them last time.”
Had I been wearing pearls, I would’ve clutched them. I staggered and stumbled like I’d been dealt a hard blow to my body. The happy cloud I floated down on was starting to dissipate beneath my feet, and I wondered how far the fall would be until I crashed to the earth. Would my heart give out first or would I know the horrendous sound of every bone in my body breaking when I hit the fiery pits of hell?
Meredith came in a few minutes later, her smile adding some warmth to break through the tension between Chaz and me. The smile slid off her face when she read the situation. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Chaz and I replied at the same time.
“As if that doesn’t give you both away.” She put her hands on her hips, shook her head in disgust, and said, “Spill it.” Chaz and I just stared at each other without saying a word. “Whatever it is, we need to clear the air before everyone else gets here.”
I swallowed my pride and said, “I was too pushy.”
“I was too sensitive,” Chaz said at the same time.
We burst into laughter, which erased the tension between us. “I am very sorry. I honestly thought I was doing something helpful, but looking back I can see that I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.” I walked over and hugged him tightly.
Chaz returned my squeeze then stepped back to look at me. “Maybe you should’ve, but I probably overreacted to your matchmaking attempts. I’m flattered that you think I would stand a chance with a man like Kyle. I know that you only had my best interests at heart and I was out of line when I said that your own happiness blinds you. It was mean, and it wasn’t true.”
“I’m so happy we had this Dr. Phil moment,” Meredith said. She looked at Chaz then and asked, “How’d you find out? Did he confess out of guilt? Just so you know, I was giving him until Saturday to fess up to what he did before I tipped you off.”
“Dr. Dimples called him,” I told Meredith.
“Did he tell you while you were up all night chatting while playing games?” she asked Chaz.
“Guys, I don’t know who he’s met online, but it’s not me, which just makes me more certain that him coming to dinner on Sunday is a mistake. Look, I’ll admit that there’s a definite spark of something there between us, but how real can it be when he’s obviously interested in someone else? My heart can’t take being a temporary fill-in while he waits for his perfect guy to show up. Look at him and look at me,” Chaz said.
My mind went into hyperdrive as soon as I heard Chaz refer to the something they shared. It was just like the beginning for Gabe and me and it solidified my belief that these two guys were meant to be. I just needed to find less annoying ways to try to work some magic.
“I am looking right at Charles Bailey Hamilton, and you’re beautiful,” Meredith said. “I fail to understand what you’re talking about.”
“It’s not about me having low self-esteem in regards to my looks,” Chaz said. “This is about compatibility. What could a highly-educated veterinarian possibly have in common with a receptionist in a salon?”
“THE salon,” I said jokingly. “Chaz, it’s so much easier to find all the reasons why something won’t work than it is to try to find the reasons it will. When the hell has easy equaled right?” I released a soft sigh and reached for his hands. “This isn’t us telling you how to live your life, babe. This is us encouraging you to be brave and take chances, and maybe we’re calling you out on your bullshit a little.” Hearing me repeat his words from earlier brought a smile to his face.
“Jazz, your deviled eggs were perfect,” Chaz said softly.
“Honey, I know it. And, just like Jesus, I forgive.” I leaned in closer and said, “Next time you want to get back at me, choose something more believable than bad cooking.”
The rest of the staff staggered in and our day got underway. I was happy that Chaz and I cleared the air and got past my boneheaded move. He had been dead-on when he said that he and Meredith never interfered with Gabe and me as we stumbled along the path to happiness. I needed to show them both the same amount of respect.
My day moved along at a quick pace, I was shocked when Sally Ann showed up for her four o’clock appointment because it felt like my day had just begun. She was beauty and happiness personified.
“Hey, honey,” she said, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek.
“Hey, beautiful,” I returned. “Hello, sweet Adrianna,” I said to her ever-growing baby bump. Sally Ann hadn’t confirmed the choice of name, but I had a strong feeling. “How’re the Goode girls today?” Sally Ann smirked at the nickname I’d given them.
“Doing great,” she replied. “I’m enjoying spring break at home on the couch with my legs propped up and a good book on my tablet.”
“Sounds nice,” Heather told her from across the salon. “What are you reading? I could use a good book.”
Sally Ann’s cheeks turned pink, prompting us to tease her for a few seconds about reading naughty books. “It’s not naughty or inappropriate,” she said. “It’s just not going to be for everybody.”
“It’s bestiality,” Marci guessed. Whoa, girl! Sally Ann said it wasn’t naughty or inappropriate and Marci chose bestiality of all things!
Heather gasped and said, “Twincest!” Who were these women I hired? Dayum!
“I bet it’s gay romance,” Meredith said. “Those are my favorites.” That got my ears perked up.
“Yes!” Sally Ann said excitedly. “The book I’m reading is from a new author. His name is C.B. Hesterson. His debut book is just fabulous. It has everything I loved in a book—angst, twists, complicated characters, and the sex scenes are hot enough to steam off wallpaper. I’m telling you, between my pregnant hormones and this guy’s writing, I’ve worn Adrian out.”
I heard Chaz coughing and sputtering at his desk. I checked to make sure he was okay, and he waived me off. “Good stuff, huh?” I asked Sally Ann.
“It’s brilliant!” Sally Ann said.
“I’ll have to check it out,” I told her. “I can read while Gabe watches baseball.”
“Do it,” she said. “You’re going to love it. In fact, the main character reminds me of you a little.”
“Yeah? Dashing, smart, and amazing with hair?” I asked her.
“Charming, brilliant, and snarky,” Sally Ann told me.
“You know what? I’m going to download and read it tonight while I wait for Gabe to come home,” I told her. I knew I needed to keep my brain busy lest I wanted it to conjure up every terrible scenario that Gabe could face during his undercover operation. “He’s going to have a late night.”
“You’re coming to our house for dinner then.” Sally Ann’s firm tone said she meant business and wasn’t taking no for an answer. “You can start the book later tonight or tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan. Thank you for inviting me.” I loved spending time with the Goodes and my evening suddenly looked a lot brighter.
“DETECTIVE WYATT, RELAX.” JONATHON Silver stood up from the bed across the one I sat on in the hotel room. He looked at Dorchester, Weston, and Harris. “Is he always like this?”
“Mostly,” Dorchester replied, “but he knows his shit, so maybe you should stop busting his balls and listen to him for a damn minute.”
Everything I suggested had been rebuked or mocked by Silver, and it was wearing hard on my nerves. The tech team had already stopped by to hook him up and test his equipment. Not only was he wired for sound, but they also gave him a tie clip that had a tiny camera hidden among fake diamonds, or at least I thought they were fake. That part w
ent smooth; it was the part that came afterward that seemed to rile him up. It was obvious as hell that he wanted to oversee every situation.
“Too bad you weren’t this dedicated when my brother turned to you for help,” he snarled. “Maybe he’d still be alive.”
“Clear the room,” I commanded. My team obeyed the order immediately. I slowly rose to my feet and squared off against Silver. “You have every right to be angry over the loss of your brother, but blaming me for his death isn’t going to bring him back. Instead, focus your damn energy on catching his killer by listening to what I’m telling you.” I pointed my finger at him and said, “If you go in there half-cocked you could destroy everything. Are you listening to me?”
Silver turned and paced away from me, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. He turned to face me and released his pent-up frustration in one, long breath. I saw the tension fade from his tall frame.
“I didn’t refuse to help Nate; he refused to help himself. He should’ve been up front about everything because it was highly unlikely he didn’t know why he was targeted. He might not have known who, but he might’ve had an idea of why. His asking me to sneak around outside of the law to find his harasser was wrong.” Technically, he hinted, not asked. “He wasn’t forthright with the CPD when he finally turned to them for help. We can’t help someone who doesn’t want it, Silver.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I was out of line. I’m sorry.” His apology was completely unexpected, but not unwelcome. I wasn’t ready to stick my neck on the line by removing him as a viable suspect, but my conviction that someone other than Silver killed Nate grew stronger each day.
“Trust me when I tell you I know how powerless you feel right now. My brother was killed in a robbery when I was fifteen. He was my hero, and I was devastated,” I told Silver. “His killer was never arrested, so please believe me when I tell you that I will do everything legally within my power to solve Nate’s case. I need your help to do that, which means you have to listen to what I say.”
“Call the team back in. I’m ready to cooperate,” Silver said.
An hour later, the team gathered around eating pizza while we waited for Spizer to show up. Silver made sure he arrived early at the restaurant so that he wasn’t caught getting off the bank of elevators used by the guests of the hotel. Silver wasn’t wearing an earpiece so he couldn’t hear us when we discussed the situation.
“Spizer is thirty minutes late,” Dorchester said. “He could be running up the billable hours, or he’s not coming.” As hard as we tried to keep the warrant a secret, there was always a chance a clerk tipped him off.
As if he sensed our anxiousness, Silver pulled out his cellphone from his inside suit pocket. He held the phone in front of him where we could see it before he dialed Spizer. “Rick, I’ve been sitting here at the restaurant for thirty minutes waiting for you. Did I get the time wrong? Give me a call, buddy.”
Silver set his phone on the table and drank another glass of water while we waited some more. He checked his phone every few minutes, but there was never a call or text from Spizer. My spidey sense told me something was wrong. My suspicion was confirmed twenty minutes later when dispatch called to let me know that Spizer had been found dead in his home office. His death appeared to be a suicide.
“What?” I asked. “Give me the address and tell everyone to keep the scene clear until my team gets there. Only the M.E. goes in.” The more people that were there, the more opportunities to contaminate the scene. “Who found Mr. Spizer?” I asked, drawing the attention of my team. I snapped my fingers and pointed to the screen, indicating that I wanted someone to call Silver and let him know. I wanted to have a quick chat with him before we left for Spizer’s house.
“His wife did, Detective. As you can imagine, she’s a mess right now. The responding officer thinks she’s going to need sedation. He also said there’s a suicide note that admits responsibility for the deaths of Owen Smithson, Nate Turner, and Lawrence Robertson.”
“We’ll be there asap, but she should go to the hospital if they think it’s necessary. We can interview her in the morning.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll pass the message along.”
I hung up and waited for Silver to get back to the room. “What’s going on?” he asked as soon as he flung open the door.
“Spizer was found dead in his home,” I told Silver. “We’re going to head over to his house right now. I’ll call you when we know more, either tonight or tomorrow.”
His normally stoic mask was gone, and in its place, was shock and raw grief. “I don’t believe it,” Silver said. “Honestly, I thought there was another explanation for Rick’s involvement instead of him killing them or hiring it done, but this can’t be a coincidence. He was good to me when everyone else was skeptical of my appearance in Nate’s life, including my brother.”
There were no words I could say to make him feel better. If I wanted to help Silver, then I needed to get to Spizer’s house and investigate his death with a dubious eye, because I had learned long ago that reality was often the opposite of our expectations.
I crossed to him and patted the grieving man on his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch,” I said before we left.
I wouldn’t classify Spizer’s house as a mansion, but it was pretty damn close. The patrol officers were waiting outside as we had requested.
“We asked Mrs. Spizer if there was anyone we could notify for her and she asked us to call her sister.” The officer ripped out a piece of paper from his notepad. “Here’s the sister’s address and phone number in case you need to talk to Mrs. Spizer.”
“Thank you, Officer.”
The task force had put on protective gear before we entered the house to avoid contamination. We walked into a foyer of gleaming hardwood floors that shone beneath the crystals and lights in the chandelier. We followed the sounds of whirling cameras and murmured voices to the crime scene.
I knocked on the doorframe of the study, and all eyes turned to us. “Can we come in?” I asked. The M.E. would be running the show until the body was cleared, but I wanted to be able to see the scene with my own eyes before that happened.
“Come on in,” the M.E. said. He introduced himself as Miguel Espinoza then identified the rest of the men and women in the room that were processing the scene.
“I’m not looking to get in your way, Dr. Espinoza. I’d just like to get a feel for the crime scene myself instead of looking at pictures of it.”
“I understand, Detective. We’re almost done here. I saw the letter on the desk beneath Spizer’s head.” He had slumped over in his chair the same way that Robertson had, but the trajectory of the bullet was completely wrong. Spizer put the barrel of the gun beneath his chin and pulled the trigger. He fell forward and pinned the hand holding the gun beneath his chest.
“Have you looked at the gun? Is it a forty-five?” I asked. He confirmed that it was and I asked him to compare the entrance and exit wounds to those of Owen Smithson and promised to make sure he got copies of Turner’s and Robertson’s autopsy files and photos. “I’d like to wrap this all up in a tidy bow, but I am going to be sure that every avenue is investigated.”
I stayed out of their way and looked around the room at the photos hanging on the wall or sitting in frames on his shelf. The gilded gold, marble, and crystal wet bar that stood in the corner of the room probably cost more than my car. I took photos so that I could compare them to crime scene photos later.
It didn’t take the medical examiner long to finish and remove Spizer from his office. Then I got my first look at the apparent suicide note he left addressed to his wife. Like the officer said, Spizer took responsibility for the deaths of the three men. What it didn’t say was why he did it. He told her how much he loved her and apologized for ruining her life. As much as I hated to be the one to show the note to Mrs. Spizer, I needed her to confirm it was his handwriting.
A handwriting specialist would be able to determine if the
note was written under duress. Some signs of fear, shame, or anguish was expected, but it would be exacerbated if someone had a gun pointed at their heads while they wrote. That was if we got the approval to hire an expert.
There was a picture on the corner of his desk that caught my eye. It was a picture of a boys’ baseball team; the kids in the picture looked to be between the ages of ten and twelve. Something about the picture stood out to me, but I couldn’t place it. I snapped a picture of it with my phone, so I could look at it later.
I wanted to believe that the cases were over and solved, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t. I placed a call to Silver, but it went to his voicemail like usual. He might’ve gone to the club to stay busy rather than sit around and wait for me to call. I left him a message and told him he could call me whenever he wanted. I wouldn’t say that I liked the man, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel bad for him. I didn’t know his story, but I had a feeling that it probably wasn’t a happy one.
Dorchester and I said very little on the way home. It seemed that we were both lost in our thoughts. I dropped him off at his house then headed home to Josh. I could tell that he wasn’t home by the lights he had left on, even though his car was parked in the driveway. I wondered where he’d gone on foot so late. I looked suspiciously over at Emory’s house and wondered if he’d gone over there since they’d gotten chummy. I realized I was being ridiculous and called his cellphone number.
“Hey, baby,” he said into the phone. “How’s it going?” I heard Adrian and Sally Ann in the background laughing about something; I knew just where I could find my guy.
“It’s better now,” I said into the phone. “How was your day?” I backed out of the driveway and drove the seven blocks to the Goodes’ house while Josh told me about his confrontation with Chaz. “But you guys are okay now, right?” I asked.
“We sure are,” Josh replied. “Do you have any idea what time you’ll be home?”
Dyed and Gone to Heaven (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries, #3) Page 17
