Читать книгу Cavanaugh Rules - Marie Ferrarella - Страница 10

“Hey, Abilene, what do you—”

Kendra stopped abruptly. She’d assumed that the detective was behind her, but when she turned around, she only saw the crime scene investigators in the room.

“Great,” she muttered. “Now he’s wandering off.” Biting off a few ripe words, she went to look for him.

She found her new partner in the bedroom. Abilene stood before the narrow mirrored closet. The sliding door was in the open position and he was staring into it.

Glancing over his shoulder, Kendra saw nothing that would have captured his attention so intently. Was she missing something, or was he one of those people who stared off into space as he pieced things together in his mind?

“So, what do you think?” she finally asked him.

If she’d surprised him by coming up behind him, Abilene gave no indication. Turning from the closet, he looked at her as he lobbed her question back to her.

“You’re the expert.”

Did that mean he was unwilling to state an opinion, or that he was giving her her due? So far she really had no idea how to read this man and that bothered her. More than that, it annoyed her.

Hell, everything about this man annoyed her, not the least of which was that he seemed to be getting under her skin and this was only day one of their temporary partnership. What was she going to be like a month into this ordeal? She didn’t want to think about it.

Kendra was aware that learning to pick up signals from this man would take time, but she’d gotten more impatient in this difficult past year and it made her less willing to wait. Jason’s accident and subsequent suicide had made her want to seize things immediately, solve crimes yesterday. It was hard regaining her stride when all she wanted to do was run, not walk and certainly not stroll.

Abilene was still looking at her. Waiting for her opinion—or at least pretending to. Either way, she gave it to him.

She glanced back toward the living room, then said, “Looks to me as if Ryan Burnett and his girlfriend got into a fight—cause unknown at the moment—and in a fit of temper, he hit her with that bust. When he realized what he’d done—and that she was dead—he apparently got scared and took off.”

“Stopping to pack?” Abilene asked.

He indicated the cluster of bare hangers in the closet. Off to one side of the tasteful, small bedroom was a black lacquered bureau. Several of its drawers were hanging open. From the disarray left behind, it was obvious that some items had been hastily grabbed from there, too.

She shrugged, amending her theory to fit the scene. “Maybe Ryan decided to take off permanently. Man’s going to need more than a toothbrush if he’s starting a new life somewhere else.”

“That shows clear thinking,” Abilene protested. “It doesn’t jibe with a supposed crime of impulse,” he pointed out.

Kendra saw no contradiction. “The man’s an accountant. He’s supposed to be a clear thinker. It’s the nature of the beast.” She glanced at the bed. It had no comforter or blanket over its crisp, coordinated navy blue sheets. That confirmed her initial theory that the blanket in the other room, now spread over the murder victim, had come from here.

That brought her back to the theory that Ryan hadn’t meant to kill the woman. Things had gotten out of hand for some reason. But what had triggered the argument? And why now, at this particular point? The answers to that might explain everything.

Seeing one of the two officers who had called in the homicide, she crossed to the man and asked, “Do we have an ID on the victim yet?”

The officer nodded and offered her the wallet he’d gotten from the dead woman’s purse.

“Her name’s Summer Miller,” he told her. He handed over the wallet, exposing the driver’s license for her benefit.

Kendra looked down at the small picture on the license. She’d seen a larger, framed photograph of Summer in the bedroom on the bureau. She was standing in front of a smiling young man. His arms were wrapped protectively around her. The two appeared very happy, as if they didn’t have a care in the world between them.

They did now, Kendra thought grimly. She assumed that the man in the photograph was the missing accountant, Ryan Burnett.

“Well, at least we have a name for his girlfriend,” she said quietly, closing the wallet for now.

Spying a pile of plastic sealable bags used for evidence, she picked one up and slipped the wallet inside. She closed the seal before tucking the wallet into her pocket. She wanted to hand-carry this piece to her father personally. There were questions she wanted to ask.

And then she turned toward Abilene. “You up for some canvassing of the neighbors on the floor, see if anyone heard or saw anything that might prove to be useful?”

“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing toward the doorway. “But—”

Kendra crossed the threshold, then looked at him over her shoulder. “But?” she echoed.

“Shouldn’t we inform her next of kin first before we start canvassing and flashing her picture around?” he asked.

“Since we’re here, we’ll canvas the floor first.” Kendra didn’t like wasting time and she sincerely doubted that word of the young woman’s murder—as well as her name—would get out in the next hour. “She’ll still be the victim of a homicide—and dead—in an hour,” she assured Abilene. “Plenty of time to break her family’s heart in an hour instead of now,” Kendra added with a resigned sigh.

That was the worst part of the job as far as she as concerned. Informing the family of a death, then watching the light go out of a parent’s or a spouse’s eyes. They should have a special group of trained professionals who only did that—and rendered grief counseling while they were at it.

“I suppose you’re right,” Abilene murmured in a deep voice under his breath.

She knew he didn’t mean it, but she took it as a token victory. In response, she paused to flash a quick, satisfied smile in his direction.

That he smiled back pleased her more than she was happy about.

They wound up canvassing the apartments on the crime scene floor. All the people who had been milling around the hallway had mysteriously disappeared when they came out, going back to their lives and choosing not to communicate with the police.

It turned out that only a few people—three, to be exact—were in their apartments to answer their doorbells when Kendra and Abilene came around.

The first was a young woman with a brand-new baby. The baby looked to be less than a month old. The new mother had all but physically dragged them into her apartment when they rang her bell. It was obvious that she was desperate for adult companionship, even companionship that involved being questioned about a murder.

It was clear that while she loved her infant son, the woman was more than ready to return to work—or at least to be in the company of human beings who knew how to do more than spit up, cry, wet and sleep.

Moving like a woman who was sleepwalking, she admitted to not having heard anything out of the ordinary that day: no sudden shouts, no raised, angry voices, no loud crashing sounds.

They thanked her and left as soon as they could extricate themselves.

Two doors down, a night watchman finally opened the door after Abilene had given up ringing the doorbell and resorted to knocking—hard. Rumpled and bleary-eyed, the man appeared none too happy to be woken up. He was no more helpful than the new mother had been, shaking his head in response to the same questions.

“No, man, I didn’t hear anything. I took a sleeping pill,” he explained, then whined, “Only way I can get some sleep. It’s just not natural to have to try to sleep during the day,” he grumbled.

“Maybe you should try getting another job,” Kendra suggested tactfully.

Her words brought an instant, almost malevolent look into the man’s dark eyes. “Don’t you think I would if I could?” he snapped at her. “I was a damn aerospace engineer before all those useless companies started to bail and move out of the state. This damn night watchman job was the only thing I could find after looking for five months.” He glared at her accusingly. “Now I probably won’t be able to get back to sleep because of you.”

She was about to say something placating and apologetic to the belligerent watchman when she noticed Abilene shifting beside her. The next thing she knew, he was placing himself between her and the man in the doorway.

“Take it easy, man,” Abilene advised, his voice mild. “Might help you fall back to sleep if you calm down a little.”

By his subdued expression, it was obvious that the night watchman had become aware of the rather pronounced differences in height between him and the detective. Rather than say something sarcastic or cynical, the man nodded and backed up into the security of his apartment. The next moment, he’d shut the door.

For a second, Kendra was stunned. Turning, she was all set to tell Abilene that she didn’t need him to run interference for her or play the big, bad guardian, but then she decided to let the matter drop. Maybe Abilene, in his own clumsy, heavy-handed way, was trying to be helpful. Even, perhaps, protective.

The last thought shimmied through her, creating a shiver she managed to tamp down. Maybe she was just working too hard. But she couldn’t stop now.

Two doors away from the crime scene they found their third person to interview. Unlike the other two tenants, he was neither half-asleep, nor bleary-eyed and belligerent. Tyler Blake, a “currently” out-of-work actor according to his own description, was both friendly and more than willing to answer questions without seeming desperate for company.

And, also unlike the other two tenants they’d interviewed, Blake admitted to having heard something earlier that day.

“It sounded like two people arguing, but I just thought that someone had their TV turned up loud,” he admitted ruefully. “I didn’t pay attention and then it was quiet again. Sorry,” he apologized, flashing a contrite smile at Kendra.

“Nothing to apologize for, Mr. Blake. You couldn’t have known what was going on,” she told him. Another question occurred to her and she asked, “Were you by any chance friendly with Mr. Burnett?”

The out-of-work actor shrugged. “Just small talk at the elevator and the mailbox. You know, ‘Just another great day in Paradise,’ that kind of thing. We never talked about anything personal, anything that mattered,” he clarified.

“Did you know his girlfriend?” Abilene asked out of the blue. Up until now, he’d been rather quiet, letting her take the lead and choosing to listen rather than to question.

Tyler looked surprised at the question. “You mean to talk to, or by sight?”

“You tell us,” Abilene replied, leaving it up to the actor to fill in the blanks.

“Well, I saw them leaving his apartment a couple of times, but I never had any conversations with her, if that’s what you mean.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped his lips. “Fact is, I’m not sure if I could pick her out of a lineup if I had to.”

“Well, lucky for you that won’t come up,” Abilene told him. “Burnett’s girlfriend was found dead in his apartment this morning.”

Tyler’s eyes widened in absolute shock. Perfectly round and black like small marbles, they gave the impression that they would fall out of his head at any minute.

“He killed her?” he asked in disbelief, his voice trembling.

“Right now, that seems to be the working theory,” Abilene told the actor. “Unless you know something different.” He paused, giving the actor a moment for the information to sink in. “Any thoughts on that?” he prodded.

Tyler really looked surprised then. “Me? No. No,” he assured Abilene while trying to suppress a shiver of his own. “Just all sounds kind of creepy, that’s all. When I did see them together, they looked happy—I guess,” he tagged on with a shrug.

“You guess,” Abilene repeated slowly, watching Tyler’s eyes.

Tyler drew himself up to be a little taller, a little straighter. Abilene still towered over him. “Well, yeah. I didn’t stare at them or anything. I’ve got my own life,” he said. “And my own girlfriend,” he added with pride. “She’s my fiancée, actually,” he clarified. “And she doesn’t like me staring at other women,” he added with a grin.

“I hear you,” Abilene said with a conspiratorial laugh. “They can get really jealous on you for just being yourself. Nothing wrong with a guy just looking.”

“If you think of anything else,” Kendra said, interrupting what looked as if it had the makings of a guy fest and taking a card out of her pocket, “call this number.” She tapped the phone number beneath her name. “Ask for Detective Cavelli.”

“So, is that the name you’re going with, Good? Cavelli?” Abilene asked as they walked away from the actor’s apartment.

Why did his questions immediately get her back up? It was, after all, a legitimate question. But coming from Abilene, it got under her skin.

Just as he did.

She supposed she was being unfair—but that still didn’t change her reaction.

“It’s the name on the card,” she told him. They stopped at the crime scene one last time. The crime scene investigators were apparently wrapping things up, she thought. That was their cue to leave. “I didn’t want to confuse him. So far, this actor’s our most lucid witness.”

“Or at least he’s playing the part of one,” Abilene commented as they walked over to the centrally located elevator. His comment had her looking at him quizzically and he shrugged. “Hey, he’s an out-of-work actor—they need audiences like most people need air.”

“Speaking from experience?” she asked.

“In a way,” Abilene admitted. “I dated an actress once.” And then he laughed. He’d dated several of them, actually. At different times. Beautiful women with beautiful faces, all clamoring to be used—finding a personal hell on the other side. “Hard not to in this state.”

“Dated an actress,” Kendra repeated. Probably a whole bunch of them, possibly at the same time. He had the charm to pull it off, she decided. If you liked that sort of thing, she couldn’t help adding. “How nice for her,” she commented dryly.

“Nice for both of us,” he said, then added with a smile, “Short and sweet.”

Something in his voice caught Kendra’s attention— and, though she wouldn’t have admitted it in so many words, it also aroused her curiosity, among other things she chose not to explore.

“Is that a requirement with you? ‘Short and sweet’?” she repeated when he just looked at her.

His mouth curved devilishly. “As a matter of fact, yes, it is.”

She’d been right about him, she thought as she got in behind the wheel of the Crown Victoria. Abilene was a player, trading on his exceedingly good looks and satisfying his appetite whenever the spirit moved him. She bet it moved him a lot.

“Where to now?” he asked as he buckled his seat belt.

“Back to the precinct to see what kind of information we can find about the late Summer Miller.” She turned on the ignition. “By the way, what was that back there? With the actor,” she specified.

“It’s called being a detective and gathering information. Also questioning a witness. Why?” he asked her. “Wasn’t I supposed to do any talking? Am I just supposed to be your strong, silent backup?”

She sincerely doubted the man knew the meaning of the word silent. For now, until she got used to him, she just wanted him to stay out of the way, not suddenly step up and take the lead. She had no problem sharing that position if the person she was sharing it with had respect for her. But Abilene wasn’t giving off any of those vibrations. At least none on a frequency she was receiving.

“I only thought, this being your first case, you’d just observe,” she told him.

“This is my first homicide, not my first case,” he corrected. He wasn’t some wet-behind-the-ears rookie to stand in awe of her. If that was what she wanted, she should have gone with one of the department’s newly minted detectives, not him. “The actor just brought up some questions for me. Sorry, was I supposed to clear them with you first before asking him?”

It wasn’t exactly a belligerent question, at least not in tone. But she could feel him challenging her nonetheless. Rules and boundaries needed to be established, here and now. Or maybe she was just reading too much into it. These days, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Maybe she just needed to unwind. Find a way to relax a little. She wondered what her sisters were doing after work tonight. Bridget was usually all caught up in her fiancé these days, but that still left Kari.

Maybe she’d give Kari a call—after she called Thomas to ask him to look into her new partner’s background. She’d feel a lot better if she knew the kind of person she would be working with. Hotshots and redhot investigators tended to come across the same way sometimes. It would be good to have a second opinion on what, exactly, she had on her hands here.

“Well, was I?” Abilene pressed.

Kendra blinked, then realized that she’d lost the thread of the conversation. She needed to ask for clarification—and that annoyed her.

“Were you what?” she asked, sparing him a quick glance as she eased the car to a stop at a red light.

Abilene suppressed an impatient sigh. “Was I supposed to clear it with you first before I asked the actor any questions?” This time, there was an edge to his tone.

That would be nice.

She knew the detective was being sarcastic. She supposed, in his place, she would have felt the same way.

Okay, so she was being testy. But that was because she didn’t like change and she didn’t like the fact that he had a way of looking at her that made her stomach muscles cramp up.

Kendra did her best to temper her own voice. “Of course not. I was just surprised to hear you asking questions, that’s all.”

Matt decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Shrugging, he stood down and relaxed again. Maybe the woman wasn’t a class-A pain in the butt. She just came across like one. But maybe she had a reason to—one that he intended to find out, provided there was a reason.

“Look,” he said amicably, “there’s going to be a period of adjustment. I get that. If we’re going to make this work, then we need to get things out in the open.”

She was on her guard again. “What things?” she asked.

“Things that bother us about the other person.”

She could feel his eyes on her. It made her feel like squirming. So much for a truce. She would still hang on to the hope that this collaboration of theirs was only temporary.

Kendra made a right turn at the next corner. “I’ve got a better idea.”

“Okay, I’m game.”

Pushing down on the gas, she flew through the next light just as it was turning red. She wanted to spend as little time in close quarters with this man as possible. For some reason, he seemed to deplete her oxygen supply. “Why don’t we just see if we can find out who killed Summer Miller and just where Ryan Burnett ultimately ran off to.”

He laughed shortly. Yeah, that was definitely another option. “You mean just work the case.”

Kendra continued to look straight ahead as she drove. “I mean just work the case.”

Abilene tempered the sarcastic retort that rose to his lips. “It might surprise you to know, but that was what I was doing when you asked me what I was doing,” he told her.

Kendra blew out a breath. Maybe the key to surviving this union was to exchange as few words as possible—and to keep to well-ventilated areas. “Point taken. Okay, Abilene, as you were.”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Kendra wondered just how long she had to wait before she could officially request a change of partners without having the chief think that she was being unreasonable.