Laurel Heights 3

by Lisa Worrall

  Scott shoved the last piece of bacon into his mouth and stood up. “Have you heard anything else from Kelly?”

  “No, have you?” Will took Scott’s plate, put it in the dishwasher next to his own and slung the cutlery into the basket. Scott shook his head, much to Will’s disappointment. He closed the dishwasher with a slam. “I wish I could knock some sense into our bull-headed captain before it’s too late.” Scott pulled him into his arms and kissed him.

  “I know,” he replied. “But don’t forget we weren’t exactly wearing a rainbow tie to work every day either and we knew we were gay. As much as we wish we could fix this, Glenn’s got to figure this out for himself. All we can do is be there when he needs us. Or lock them in a room and let ‘em duke it out, whichever happens first.”

  “Duke it out?” Will echoed.

  “Yeah, you know, fight, clear the air, duke it out.”

  “You have got to stop watching TCM.”

  Scott ignored him and pushed Will toward the front door. “Come on. I’m driving.”

  Will smiled as Scott grabbed the keys and ushered him out of the house. On finding out what he had initially thought of as a betrayal was more to do with self-preservation than Scott simply hiding part of himself, the guilt had flooded through him. He’d automatically gone into Princess mode, made it all about him, and for that he felt like shit, but—

  “If you don’t stop beating yourself up,” Scott said, turning on the engine. “I’m gonna do it for you.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m done.” Will gave himself a mental shake and buckled his seatbelt. He looked over at Scott who stared at him, his expression unreadable. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.” He knew Scott didn’t believe him, but he’d have to make do with that for now. Scott stared at him for a moment, then backed the car down the drive.

  Will’s cell rang and he fished it out of his pocket, smiling at the name on his screen as he pressed answer. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself,” Todd said brightly. “You didn’t answer my text. What’s going on?”

  “Murder, mayhem, paperwork, the usual,” Will replied. “We’re on our way to the station now.”

  “At nine in the a.m.?” Todd sounded surprised. “You’ve usually been there for three hours by now. Didn’t the alarm go off?”

  “Very funny.” Will rolled his eyes at Todd’s tease. Did all their friends think they lived at the station? “It was a long day yesterday, and we were owed time from Satur—why am I explaining this to you?”

  “Because you’re driven by the need to justify not starting at the ass crack of dawn.”

  “Why am I justifying that to you?”

  “You’re not,” Todd said succinctly. “You’re justifying it to yourself.”

  “Shut up,” Will mumbled, although it was a half-hearted insult, ‘cause Todd was, of course, absolutely right.

  “How was foxtrot 101?”

  “We had to postpone.” Will glanced at Scott. “We caught a case.”

  “He killed someone to get out of a dance lesson?”

  Will laughed out loud. “The thought did cross my mind. But don’t worry, it will happen.” He ignored the shake of Scott’s head, who was obviously in no doubt who he was talking to. “How’s the wedding prep?”

  “Marcus has turned into a combination of his mother and mine, so I’m spending a lot of time in the bathroom. Although I may have to come up with another excuse before I end up on a gurney with a camera up my ass.”

  “Jesus, Todd!” Will snorted.

  “It was the first thing that popped into my head. It was either the bathroom or stake him out in the backyard and cover him with fire ants.” There was a pause in the conversation while Will relayed Todd’s dilemma to Scott. “So, how are my two favorite law enforcers?”

  “Yeah, we’re good,” Will replied, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt.

  “Liar.” Apparently not convincing at all. “What’s wrong?”

  “We’re just pulling into the station, Todd,” Will said hastily. “I gotta go.”

  “How convenient. This conversation is not over, Harrison.”

  “I know.” Boy, did he know. Todd was like a sniffer dog. He could smell a rat from, well, from however far New York was from Montana. He quickly ended the call and shoved his cell back into his pocket as Scott pulled into an empty space in the underground parking lot.

  “What was all that about?” Scott asked, turning of the engine.

  “Marcus is taking the Bridezilla thing to a whole new level.”

  “If Todd doesn’t kill him it’ll be a minor miracle,” Scott said on a chuckle as they walked to the elevator.

  “You know, Todd. He’d be happy to get married at City Hall with a couple of strangers for witnesses.” Will followed Scott into the tin can and pressed the button for the third floor. “But Marcus wants it to be perfect.”

  “After all they’ve been through,” Scott said. “I think they’re entitled to a little perfect.”

  Will smiled and took a step toward him, reaching out to grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him closer. “Well, well, well,” he said, capturing Scott’s lips in a soft kiss. “Who would’ve thought that beneath that big macho exterior lies a sensitive soul?”

  “Nobody, so keep it to yourself.” Scott winked. “I’ve got a rep to protect.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “But if you do that you won’t be able to do that little thing with your tongue.”

  “What little thing?”

  “You know, when you put your tongue in my—”

  “Out!” Will pushed Scott toward the elevator doors as they opened on the third floor, and he went willingly, laughing as he strode toward the entrance to the department.

  Lieberman was the first person Will saw on following Scott through the double doors and his heart sank. He’d been such an asshole to him yesterday, through no fault of his own, so the first thing he needed to do was apologize. Snapping at him was one thing, but throwing his crush on Scott in his face? Scott diplomatically headed toward the coffee machine to spare Noah further embarrassment and Will sighed heavily as he approached the desk. From the look on Lieberman’s face, he was steeling himself for another attack. Thank God he already felt like shit, so a little extra added to the pile wasn’t going to make much difference.

  “Um… Noah?” Will tried to keep his tone even, but Noah’s shoulders visibly tensed at the sound of his name. Jesus, Will. Why didn’t you just hit the guy? It would’ve been kinder. “Hi, no, no,” he held out his hand, “please, don’t get up.” Noah sank back into his seat, his wary gaze fixed on Will. “About yesterday… um… I’m so sorry. I was angry, not your fault, and I took it out on you. I’m really, really sorry.”

  Noah stared at him and, for a moment, Will wasn’t sure which way it was going to go, then Noah relaxed into his seat and nodded, his lips curving in a half-smile. “It’s okay, Detective Harrison.”

  Will smiled, relieved, and sat down at his own desk. “Thank you, Noah. I appreciate that.” He ignored the twitch of Scott’s lips as he put a mug of coffee in front of him and turned on his computer.

  “So, Noah,” Scott said, perching on the corner of Noah’s desk. “What did you get from the neighbors yesterday? Anything interesting?”

  “Very, Detect—”

  “Drop the detective shit, Noah. You’re not a rookie anymore for Christ’s sake. He’s Will and I’m Scott.” Scott waved his hand and took a sip of his coffee. “Continue, are we looking for the one-armed man?”

  “One-armed… what?” Noah stared at Scott as if he were crazy.

  Will held up his hand in placation. “Don’t worry, Noah, it’s an old cop show. He watches way too much late night T.V. Did any of the neighbors mention anyone suspicious that might lend weight to Mrs. Petersen’s statement that she woke up to find a man in their bedroom?”

  “No, they didn’t. No one saw anyone who shouldn’t be in the cul de sac and to be honest, judging
by the twitching curtains, they would have.” Noah cleared his throat and flipped open his notebook. “I asked them about the Petersens, and the majority of the neighbors thought they were a nice enough family who kept to themselves. But the ones that lived either side had a somewhat different opinion.”

  “Such as?” Will prompted.

  “Fighting late at night,” Noah replied. “One of them said she’d seen Mrs. Petersen with bruises, a couple of black eyes, etc. Looks like our vic was handsy.”

  “Any proof?” Scott asked.

  “I ran a check on Mrs. Petersen’s medical records. She visited the ER eighteen times in the last three years and….”

  “And?” Scott echoed.

  “And the kid was taken to the ER twice. Both times he “fell” down the stairs.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Scott slammed his coffee cup down on the desk.

  “Didn’t anyone follow it up?” Will asked in disbelief. Eighteen times?

  Noah shook his head. “Looks like they tried to, but she wouldn’t press charges.”

  “Even after he hit the kid?” Scott was incredulous. Noah shook his head.

  “Did you run a check on wife number two?” Will asked, running a hand through his hair.

  “I did,” Noah replied, checking his notes. “No ER trips for Tiffany.”

  “None?” Will leaned back in his chair. “So why was number one his only punching bag?”

  “When did the ER visits start for Audrey?” Scott pulled up his chair and sat down.

  “Um… a couple of months shy of three years.” Noah frowned. “Why?”

  Will immediately picked up on where Scott was going. “Just after he met Tiffany.” Scott nodded and Will turned back to Noah. “Were there any records of Audrey ending up in the ER before?” He waited while Noah checked the email he’d received from the hospital.

  “Once in her teens following a car accident.”

  “But not during her marriage?” Will asked. “Outside of the time frame we’re looking at?”

  “No, none.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Scott said through gritted teeth. “Why didn’t he just fucking leave her?”

  “Cake and eat it scenario?” Noah suggested.

  Will shook his head. “No, if it was that, why would he hit her? Like Scott said, all he had to do was leave Audrey and set up home with Tiffany. Why didn’t he leave?”

  “Well this is a pretty good reason.” Scott looked up from his computer.

  “What?”

  “Her father is CEO of the bank.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Will huffed out a joyless laugh. “Money, the oldest sweetener in the pot. How much did—?” His cell rang, and he took it out of his pocket, trying to keep his expression impassive as Ally’s name filled the screen. “Sorry.” He stood up. “I’ve got to take this.”

  Scott looked at him, giving him the single eyebrow raise and Will quickly mouthed “Todd” in response. If he said he didn’t feel the flush of guilt when Scott rolled his eyes, he would’ve been lying, but what else could he do. He’d promised Scott he wouldn’t involve him in his extra-curricular investigation and he—Didn’t promise you’d lie to him about it though. Will ignored inner Will and strode out of the room, answering the call as soon as the doors had closed behind him.

  “Ally?”

  “Hi.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” she replied. “You?”

  “Better. Scott and I talked.”

  “How is he?”

  “How do you think?” Will closed his eyes. “Sorry, that came out harsher than I intended.”

  “It’s fine. I can imagine the picture he painted wasn’t one you’d want to frame and hang above the mantlepiece.”

  Will wanted to bite his tongue, he really did but, “How could you abandon him like that?”

  “I didn’t aban—”

  “You walked out, and he never heard from you again,” Will said bluntly. “I think abandon pretty much covers it.”

  “I….” She trailed off and, after a slightly pregnant pause, she continued. “It’s complicated.”

  Will frowned. He wasn’t sure why, but he had the distinct feeling that wasn’t what Ally wanted to say. It felt too measured, too general. Maybe it was the detective in him, but there was definitely something she wasn’t sharing, so he decided to change tact.

  “I haven’t had a chance to make any calls yet.”

  “Please, don’t worry. I know how busy you are. I just wanted to let you know that Jack’s ex-wife and Rachael’s husband are willing to talk to you. You know, so you can get a better idea of who they were.”

  “That’s great. Just send me the details and I’ll give them a call.” Will glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry Ally, but I’ve got a witness coming in—”

  “It’s okay. I’ll let you get on, and Will? Thank you.”

  “I’m not making any promis—” He was talking to dead air; she’d already hung up. Will pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. What had he gotten himself into?

  “Hey.” Scott pushed open the doors. “Tiffany Petersen’s on her way up. Interview 2?”

  “Sure,” Will replied, squaring his shoulders. “You go get set up. I’ll bring her in.”

  “Is Todd okay?”

  “Huh?”

  Scott motioned to the cell in Will’s hand. “Todd?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Will hoped he recovered quickly enough. “Wedding drama.” That’s lie number two, Turner.

  “Why isn’t he calling me for advice?”

  Will raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  Scott thought about it for a nano-second then shook his head. “Probably not.” He disappeared back through the doors and Will smoothed down his jacket as he waited for the elevator to reach their floor.

  When the doors opened, Will wanted to grab hold of Tiffany Petersen and wrap her up in his arms. She looked as though she hadn’t slept in a week and the pain in her big blue eyes cut through him like a knife. Pain he was only going to add to. Will smiled softly and held out his hand to her.

  “Tiffany, thank you so much for coming in.”

  She shook his hand and indicated the taller blonde woman beside her. Apart from the height difference and the fact that the woman was obviously older, they could have been twins, so it was pretty much moot when Tiffany introduced her. “This is my sister, Melanie.” Her voice cracked a little and she grabbed blindly for her sister’s hand. “I hope it’s okay. I-I couldn’t do this a-alone.”

  “Of course, of course,” Will reassured her. “This is a very informal, Tiffany. I’m only sorry we have to do this at all.” He held his hand out to the other woman. “I’m Detective Will Harrison.”

  “Melanie Oberman,” she replied, clasping his fingers in a firm grip. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but under the circumstances….” Will nodded. She didn’t have to finish the sentence.

  “Please,” he motioned to the doors. “Come this way.” He led them across the department to interview room two, where Scott waited for them. “This is my partner, Scott Turner.” He introduced Melanie. “Scott, this is Melanie Oberman, Tiffany’s sister.”

  “Good to meet you,” Scott said, shaking her hand, then turned to do the same to Tiffany. “Please, take a seat. Can I get you a tea? Coffee?”

  “No, thanks, we’re fine,” Melanie replied. “As you can imagine, my sister has had a terrible shock, so the sooner we get this over with the sooner I can get her home.”

  Will raised an eyebrow. Melanie was obviously the stronger personality. “Of course.” He took his cell out of his pocket and put it on the table. “If you have no objections, just for clarity, we’ll be recording the interview.”

  “Would it make any difference if we did?” Sarcasm tinged Melanie’s question.

  Will opened his mouth to reply, but Scott very deliberately reached out and pressed record on the phone, negating the need for additional cla
rification. Not that it did much to decrease the tension, and what they had to say next wasn’t going to help.

  “Okay, let’s get started. Detectives Harrison and Turner are speaking to Tiffany Petersen, who is accompanied by her sister, Melanie Oberman.” He gave Tiffany what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “So, Tiffany, where did you and Tristan meet?”

  Lame question, but what else was he supposed to lead with? Sorry for your loss, did you know your husband was a lying piece of crap who’s left you and your son with nothing because you’re not really married?

  “In Boston,” Tiffany replied, pulling a tissue out of her purse. “He was there on bank business and I’d been sent there by the advertising company I worked for. We were staying at the same hotel.” She smiled wistfully. “Our eyes met across a crowded hotel dining-room and, I know it sounds corny, but it was love at first sight, for both of us.”

  “And how long ago was that?”

  “Almost four years ago.”

  “And when did you get married?”

  “Three years ago, a couple of months before TJ was born.”

  “And—"

  “Look, can we stow the crap?”

  Will’s gaze moved to Melanie. “I’m sorry?”

  “When are you going to tell us what really happened to my brother-in-law?”

  “Mrs.—”

  “Don’t Mrs. me,” she waved her hand dismissively. “You show up at her home, tell my sister her husband was murdered in a hotel room in Buffalo and leave her to sit with that overnight? What kind of people are you?”

  Will leaned back in his chair. What the fuck was he supposed to say? Apart from she’s right? He glanced at Scott for an indication he had an out. That he didn’t have to tell this poor woman the truth. He didn’t get one. Of course, he didn’t get one. He’d have wondered when he woke up in bizzaro world if he had. She had to know. Of course, she had to know. He just wished he didn’t have to be the one to tell her. Will squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  “You’re right,” Will said calmly, keeping his voice as even as possible. “Tiffany… I’m afraid your husband was not killed in Buffalo.” He raced on in the same tone, not giving her a chance to respond before he’d finished. “He was stabbed in his home in White Plains, where he lived with his wife and son.”