Читать книгу The Perfect Lie - Блейк Пирс - Страница 7

The stench was overwhelming. The woman must have been dead for last two, maybe three days. She was lying on the bed with the covers off, wearing workout pants and a sports bra. There were no obvious signs of a struggle in how she was positioned or in the room generally. Nothing looked to have been knocked to the floor. Nothing was broken. Her clothing didn’t appear to have been disturbed. She had no obvious cuts or marks.

Of course, that didn’t prove anything. If this was foul play, the perpetrator would have had lots of time to clean up the room and Taylor before leaving. Fingerprints on items in the room, including the body, might offer some help on that front. But at least visibly, nothing had been disturbed.

Jessie walked over to get a closer look at the victim. The team from the medical examiner’s office, who had been about to put her in a body bag, took a respectful step back.

Taylor Jansen’s face was blue and puffy. Her eyes were closed. The abdomen she’d clearly worked so hard to keep tight and flat was now distended—a result of the gases that had built up inside her after death. Even in this condition, Jessie could tell that she had been beautiful.

“Has anyone touched her?” Ryan asked.

“Other than to get prints, no,” Wayne assured them.

“She looks like she died taking a nap,” Ryan noted. “No wonder the initial call was suicide. Maybe not all those pills in the cases in the kitchen were vitamins. I’m very curious to see the toxicology report.”

Jessie leaned in close and noted the dull bruises on Taylor’s wrists and neck. Because of the skin discoloration and bloating, it was hard to tell how old they were. But if she had to guess, they’d been there well before two days ago.

“Was that window near the front door always open?” Jessie asked. “Or did someone do it after she was found?”

“According to her co-worker, it was slightly open when he arrived. He said he knocked on the door and tried to open it. But it was locked so he used the window to get in.”

Jessie nodded, turning away from Taylor’s body and walking over to her closet. She pushed open the sliding door and glanced inside. It looked like three-quarters of her wardrobe was comprised exclusively of workout gear and lingerie. She turned back to Ryan and Officer Wayne.

“We definitely need to talk to her co-worker,” she said.

*

Vin Stacey looked miserable sitting in the back of the patrol car parked outside the complex.

“Is he being held?” Jessie asked the bored-looking officer standing beside the car.

“No. We just asked him to stick around until you all could come down and talk to him.”

“Does he know he doesn’t have to wait in the car? Because he looks like he thinks he’s being detained.”

“We didn’t specifically clarify the nature of our request,” the officer admitted sheepishly. “We just asked him to wait in the vehicle for additional questioning.”

“So he thinks he’s under arrest?” Jessie said incredulously.

“I don’t know what impression he has, ma’am. We just made the request.”

Jessie looked over at Ryan, who didn’t seem anywhere near as irate as she felt.

“You cool with this?” she demanded.

“No,” he said. “But I can’t deny I’ve used the tactic before. It’s a way of keeping someone around without having to formally arrest him.”

“But I thought he wasn’t a suspect anymore,” Jessie countered.

“Everyone’s a suspect. You know that.”

“Okay,” Jessie conceded. “But meanwhile, he’s sitting there with the whole world walking by, thinking he’s been arrested for something.”

“I guess we should clear that up then,” Ryan said flatly.

Jessie frowned at him before opening the back door.

“Mr. Stacey?” she asked, losing the edge she’d just had. Her voice was all honey now.

“Yes,” he answered shakily.

“Why don’t you come on out of the vehicle? I’m sorry you had to wait so long. My colleague and I were upstairs investigating. We were hoping to ask some follow-up questions, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ve answered everybody’s questions,” he pleaded. “I don’t know why I’m in trouble.”

“You’re not in trouble, Mr. Stacey,” she promised. “Come on out. My name is Jessie Hunt. I’m a criminal profiler for the LAPD. This is Detective Ryan Hernandez. I see a coffee shop on the corner there. Let us buy you a cup and we can talk. How would that be?”

He nodded and eased himself out of the vehicle. It was only then that Jessie realized just how massive he was. Standing at his full height, he was easily six foot two. Jessie guessed that he was 220 pounds. He was wearing a form-fitting long-sleeved workout shirt that hugged his prominent abs. His biceps looked like they might rip through the fabric at any moment.

Despite his imposing manner, she sensed gentleness in his bearing. Glancing more closely at him, she noticed that he wore a tight necklace with a rainbow charm and his fingernails were painted a sparkly purple.

“So I’m guessing you’re a trainer at Taylor’s gym too?” she said, trying to lighten the mood slightly as they walked to the coffee shop.

He nodded but didn’t respond. Ryan followed a step behind, clearly sensing that his presence might inhibit her attempts to cultivate a connection with Stacey. As they walked, Jessie noticed the man rubbing his wrists gingerly.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I still can’t believe it. I feel like my insides have been scooped out. Waiting there, just knowing that a person who had such a lively spirit was now just this cold, lifeless object only feet away from me. It hurts just to think about it. And your people only made it worse.”

“That was unfortunate,” Jessie acknowledged.

“Did you know that the officers put me in handcuffs when they got to Taylor’s place?” he pressed. “I was just sitting out there, waiting for them. And one of them cuffed me while the other had his hand on his gun holster the whole time. I was the one who called 911!”

“I’m really sorry about that, Mr. Stacey,” she soothed. “Unfortunately, when officers first arrive on the scene, they have to take precautions that might seem excessive after the fact.”

“They kept me cuffed for a half hour, long after they got my ID, checked to see if I had a record, which I don’t, and confirmed that I worked with Taylor. This was all while she lying dead her bed. I think we both know that if you had called 911 and been waiting there, they would have treated you differently.”

“Right,” she said, nodding sympathetically as they entered the coffee shop. She looked at the officer who had been trailing for him and indicated for him to stay outside.

“So you worked with her, you said. You were both trainers?” she continued, trying to move on from Stacey’s indignation.

“Yeah—at Solstice.”

“The gym right across from her apartment?” Jessie asked, remembering the fitness club she’d seen when they arrived.

“Nice commute, right?” he said.

They ordered coffees and sat down at a nearby table. Ryan joined them but didn’t speak.

“So before we get into how you found her, Mr. Stacey…”

“Call me Vin,” he said.

“Okay, Vin,” she obliged. “Before that, I want you to tell us about Taylor. What was she like? Friendly? Quiet? Easygoing? Intense?”

“I wouldn’t call her easygoing. She was polite but professional with the other trainers and staff. She was warmer with her clients but there was still a very businesslike vibe. That was her thing. Some clients like their trainer to be a chatty best friend. That’s kind of my thing. Others want someone who is no nonsense and will help them achieve their goals. She was the go-to person for that.”

“What kind of clients did she mostly have?” Ryan asked, speaking for the first time.

Vin looked at Jessie hesitantly, as if he needed her approval to respond. She nodded reassuringly and he went on.

“She had all kinds. But I’d say that over half were married women in their thirties and forties. Lots of wealthy stay-at-home wives trying to lose the baby weight or keep firm enough to prevent their husbands from leaving them for their secretaries.”

“That was her bread and butter?” Ryan said.

“Yeah. She was really great at empowering those women and making them feel as if they were in control of their own destinies. I’m a single, gay black man and sometimes she made me want to marry a middle-aged white guy just so I could take charge of my life.”

“So were you close?” Jessie asked.

“Not that close,” he said. “We’d get coffee—here sometimes actually, or go for a drink. I walked her home a couple of times late at night. But I wouldn’t say were friends—more casual work friendly. I think she liked me because I was one of the few men in that club who didn’t hit on her all the time.”

“Were any of them especially aggressive?” Ryan asked.

“I’m not sure I’m the best judge of what women consider aggressive these days,” he admitted. “All I can say is that she never seemed intimidated by any of them. She had no problem shutting a guy down hard if he got out of line.”

“Do you know her relationship status?” Jessie asked. “You told the officers upstairs that she wasn’t involved.”

“I said I didn’t think she was currently involved. I know she was dating some guy a few months ago. But after it ended she got really secretive about her romantic life. And it wasn’t my place to push so I can’t claim to be an expert.”

“Vin,” Jessie asked, deciding to cut to the question she knew they’d be tangling with the rest of the day, “do you think Taylor might have killed herself?”

He responded immediately and with an intensity they hadn’t yet seen from him.

“No way. Taylor just wasn’t that kind of person. She was driven, focused. She was one of those people who had concrete goals. She wanted to start her own gym. She never would have short-circuited herself. She was what I like to call a marrow sucker.”

“What does that mean?” Jessie asked.

“She sucked the marrow out of life. She never would have ended hers.”

They all sat quietly for a moment before Ryan returned to a less philosophical topic.

“Do you know the name of her ex?” he asked.

“No. But I think one of the female trainers at the club might. I remember that she said she saw him drop Taylor off once and recognized him.”

As Vin answered, Jessie’s eyes went to the coffee shop entrance, where a clearly homeless man walked in. He had a long beard and shoes with soles that were so loose they flopped every time he lifted a foot.

That wasn’t what caught her attention though. Something red was dripping from the man’s left hand and his right hand was hidden under his jacket. He was muttering to himself as he moved among the other customers, seemingly bumping into some of them intentionally.

“What’s that trainer’s name?” Ryan asked. His back was to the door and he hadn’t noticed the man yet.

“Chianti.”

“Are you serious?” Ryan asked, laughing involuntarily and spitting up a bit of his coffee.

“I don’t know if that’s her birth name,” Vin said, smiling for the first time. “But at the gym she goes by Chianti Rossellini. It’s not my place to judge.”

“Why do I think that’s not actually your philosophy, Vin?” Jessie said archly as she kept half an eye on the homeless man.

Vin raised his eyebrows provocatively.

“I hate to break this up this gossip session…” Ryan said.

“You can do whatever you want, brown eyes,” Vin interrupted, batting his own.

Ryan didn’t respond to that, instead plowing ahead.

“But we need to ask you about when you found Taylor. You told the officers the window was open?”

Vin’s face immediately fell.

“Just a little bit, yes. I knocked first and checked the door, which was locked. But when she didn’t respond I opened the window wider and climbed in. I guess I could have called 911 first. But I thought if she was hurt and needed help, I shouldn’t just stand there waiting around.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself, Vin,” Jessie said. “You were worried about a friend. I’m sure the evidence will support that.”

“Thank you,” Vin said, his voice cracking slightly.

Jessie would have had a stronger emotional reaction to him if she wasn’t so fixated on the homeless man with the small stream of blood dripping from his arm. He was now rocking back and forth from heel to toe and his right hand was moving under his jacket, which appeared to be damp with a thick liquid. It looked like he was hitting himself in the hip. His lips were still moving but whatever he was muttering was now inaudible, though the middle-aged woman in line ahead of him kept glancing back nervously.

“Hey, Ryan,” she said nonchalantly, “Take a casual look over your left shoulder at the bearded guy in line.”

Ryan glanced over, as did Vin.

“The one who can’t stop moving his body or his lips?” Ryan asked.

“Yep,” Jessie confirmed. “He’s bleeding from his left arm and I think he’s holding something with his right hand under the jacket.”

“What do you think it is?”

“I’m not sure. But I noticed a dark, wet stain in the hip area of the jacket. So I’m assuming it’s whatever made his other hand bleed. Also, he seems pretty agitated. He was bumping into other customers and not on accident.”

“It could be something,” Ryan said quietly. “Or he could be like half the folks we passed on the street on the way over here.”

“That’s true,” Jessie agreed, “though the whole ‘blood’ thing adds a little drama. Also, all the baristas look terrified and I bet they have homeless folks come in here all the time.”

“Fair point,” Ryan said, wincing slightly as he stood up. “I think I might get in line for a refill. Jessie, maybe you could quietly grab that officer from outside and ask him to come in as a precaution?”

Jessie nodded and stood up herself, trying to hide the twinge of pain she felt in both her back and her leg after having been immobile for several minutes. As she moved to the shop entrance, she glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Ryan had taken up a position right behind the mumbling man. She pushed open the front door and waved to the uniformed officer she’d chastised earlier.

“I think we may have a situation in here,” she said. “The bearded man standing in front of Detective Hernandez might have a weapon under his jacket. We’re not sure but we could use some backup just in case.”

She had barely finished her sentence when a loud scream erupted from inside. She turned around to see the middle-aged woman in line clutching her right shoulder with her left hand. Behind her, Ryan was struggling to rip a hunting knife out of the hands of the mumbling man. But despite his size advantage, it was a losing battle.

The other man had a frenzied anger about him and Ryan clearly wasn’t at full strength. Within moments, the man had freed himself. Ryan lost his balance and fell to the floor as the man regrouped and lunged at him.

Jessie hurried back inside, unbuttoning her gun holster as she moved toward them. She was just removing her weapon when there was a flash of movement in front of her. It was Vin Stacey, who leapt at the mumbling man, smashing his forearm into the man’s jaw and sending him careening back against the counter.

The knife flew out of the dazed man’s hand and slid across the floor. Vin stood over him, ready to proceed if necessary. It wasn’t. A moment later, the officer was on the man, turning him onto his stomach and cuffing him. Jessie reholstered her gun and knelt down beside Ryan.

“You okay?” she asked urgently.

“Yeah. I’ll recover, although I’m not sure my pride will.”

Vin walked over and extended his hand.

“Want a little help, brown eyes?” he asked, batting his eyes flirtatiously.