Reluctantly, Nik rose. “Call her,” she urged. “Nobody should be alone at a time like this. It doesn’t take much for your mind to get carried away.”
Kim nodded in response to the advice, then impulsively, she got up, threw her arms around Nik and hugged her. “Thank you.”
When she turned around and hugged Finn, the woman caught him completely off guard. The detective stiffly endured the woman’s hug, then slowly, after a beat, he put his arms lightly around her.
“Thank you both,” Kim cried, her voice sounding as if her throat was filling up with tears again.
Nik murmured something appropriate, then reminded the woman again that if she needed to call, day or night, for any reason, she shouldn’t hesitate. They made their way to the front door, and Nik pulled the door closed when she and Finn left.
“You look shell-shocked,” Nik commented, glancing at Finn. “That was probably a totally new experience for you,” she said, referring to being hugged by the suspect’s mother.
“I usually deal with thieves,” Finn told her as they walked back across the street to where their cars were parked. “Thieves don’t usually hug me.”
Reaching his vehicle, Finn stopped as he remembered something. He looked at Nik. “Why did you give me that dirty look back there?”
Her mind was already racing ahead, sorting out various details. His question managed to catch her up short for a minute.
“What dirty look?” she asked him.
“In the beginning, after Mrs. Palmer came to and asked about her daughter, you gave me a dirty look,” he answered.
Now she remembered. The memory brought an impatient frown to her lips. The man really needed to work on his people skills. “Because you don’t reassure a frightened mother who doesn’t know where her daughter is by telling her that the girl ‘might’ be dead.”
“I didn’t say she was dead, I said that we didn’t know that fact yet,” he corrected. Finn was still in the dark about his supposed transgression. The way he saw it, he hadn’t done anything wrong, other than not coddle the person he was questioning.
Nik sighed. The man just didn’t get it. “Never mind. Maybe you’ll get it later.” She tried to salvage this session. “Right now, I guess you did better than I thought you would.”
Talk about backhanded compliments. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you displayed more sensitivity than I would have given you credit for if I hadn’t been there myself. It also means that there’s hope for you yet,” she added, punctuating her words with a broad smile.
“Are you insulting me?” Because at this point, he honestly didn’t know if she was or not. From where he stood, her words and her tone were at odds with one another.
And then there was that smile that, no matter what he thought about her, somehow just seemed to light up the immediate world. He was going to have to be careful that he didn’t allow it to get to him.
“On the contrary, I’m complimenting you,” Nik informed him. And then she relented, seeing things his way. “I guess I do take a little getting used to.”
“Oh, you take a lot of getting used to,” he quipped. And then he added, “But luckily, I’m never going to find out.”
She unlocked her car door, then paused to study him. “And why’s that?” she asked, not bothering to hide her amusement.
“Because as soon as Seamus Cavanaugh is lucid enough to be able to answer a few of my questions, we’ll have the answers we need and I can wrap this thing up.”
She thought of the body in the Dumpster. “What about that murder scene you called me to?”
“Murder’s not my department,” he answered. He was ready to chalk that up to Harley making the wrong call. “Theft is, and as long as I can solve who stole his car, then we’re done.”
She didn’t see it as being that easy. “Unless these two crimes wind up being linked in some way,” she reminded him.
He recalled the blood that was found in the trunk. What if it belonged to the dead woman who’d just been found? For now, he preferred not to think about that. “Bite your tongue.”
He didn’t expect her to grin in response to his words. “If I do, I won’t be able to talk.”
For the first time since she had met the solemn, surly detective, Finn Cavanaugh smiled. “Exactly,” he answered.
“Hey, wait,” Nik suddenly cried as he started to get into his car. He stopped and looked at her, waiting. “Where are we going?”
We.
He was going to have to resign himself to that pronoun for the time being, Finn told himself, no matter how irritating it was. And, he had to admit, she had turned out to be helpful in her own way around the suspect’s mother. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if she hadn’t been there to do and say the right things to calm Kim Palmer down enough so that he could ask her a few questions.
Granted, the questions hadn’t been productive, but who knew? Maybe down the line the questions could still yield answers he could use in the investigation. He had been taught to leave no stone unturned and once those stones had been turned, he was taught to go back to the beginning and turn them all again.
Sometimes answers took their own sweet time to form and gel.
Finn saw that she was still looking at him, waiting for him to answer her. He knew what she was waiting to hear and there was no getting around it.
“Now we’re going to go to the medical examiner. With any luck, the autopsy’s been done, or at least the preliminary one,” he explained, knowing that these things couldn’t be rushed.
“I suppose we shouldn’t stop for breakfast first,” she said. Her stomach kept rumbling in protest because it was empty.
He looked at her in disbelief. “You want to eat first?” he asked.
Most people he knew had trouble facing an autopsy even if they were used to the concept. He’d just assumed that this was her first. That meant a queasy stomach at best. At worst, it could turn a whole lot messier.
“I am hungry,” she confessed. She bit her bottom lip. “But maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea.”
He shrugged. “Up to you,” he said, leaving it entirely in her hands. If he told her it wasn’t a good idea, she would undoubtedly go out of her way to prove him wrong.
“Well, as long as the ME isn’t going to vividly re-create any scenes for us, or illustrate his findings with visual aids,” she began, “I could go for some pancakes and sausages.”
Now that she had mentioned it, breakfast did sound rather good. But he was certain she was going to regret it.
“Okay,” he told her, “but just remember, this is your idea.”
She looked at him, bemused. “Do people usually blame you for their having breakfast?”
“I mean if you have any side effects,” he said.
“From breakfast?” she asked in feigned wonder.
“No, from having breakfast and then viewing the autopsy.” She couldn’t be as dense as she was pretending, he thought.
“No worries,” she assured him cheerfully. “I was premed before I changed my mind. C’mon, I know this cute restaurant that serves breakfast around the clock.”
“Of course you do,” he said with a sigh.
Premed. Like he believed that.
He got into his car and started it up.
Chapter 7
“Good?” Nik asked, leaning forward over the small table for two.
She had kept quiet longer than was her habit, watching Finn eat his order of scrambled eggs and cheese—plus toast and Canadian bacon—but at this point, she felt she was entitled to some sort of feedback from the man. Not that she thought the food served in the small, all-but-hidden restaurant was bad. On the contrary, she knew for a fact that it was excellent. It was just that she had never brought anyone here who hadn’t proclaimed it to be a wonderful r
evelation for their taste buds.
But this solemn, silent detective was just sitting there stone-faced as he continued to consume his meal.
Lost in thought, Finn looked up when he heard her asking about the meal. He was about to shrug and say that the breakfast she’d ordered for him was “okay,” but even in his lost mental state, he knew that wouldn’t be giving the meal its due. Even he knew it was better than just “okay.”
So, taking a breath, Finn answered, “Good,” and went on eating—and thinking.
Nik frowned, taking offense for the man who had prepared the meal. Roberto’s son never did anything half-heartedly. “That sounded as if it was really hard for you to say. Don’t worry, I’m not recording you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
There was a lot more that she would have wanted to say to the detective, but she left it at that. She reminded herself that she needed to choose her arguments with this one, because something told her there would be more than a few arguments coming up before this matter was settled—if it wound up being settled.
Finn looked at her pointedly. “That’s not what I’m worried about,” he told the woman sitting opposite him at the small table.
At that point, rather than become defensive, Nik just laughed. “Good, then you are enjoying this. I’m glad.”
Again, he looked at her, his glare turning razor-sharp. “The food is good,” he said, deliberately emphasizing food. Under no circumstances did he want her to get the idea that he was enjoying himself sitting here like this with her. Heaven only knew where that would lead.
Nik nodded as if they were having a genial conversation and not one where she had to drag every word out of him.
“Well, that’s all I can ask for. I’ve been coming to Roberto’s ever since I started working and buying my own breakfasts. In all that time, I’ve never been disappointed. Roberto’s got his whole family working here now.”
That was a lot more information than he would have wanted. Every time she opened her mouth, there were things spilling from her lips, miscellaneous facts and information he had no use for.
“How do you know all these things?” Finn asked in exasperation.
“Things?” she repeated, not sure what he was referring to.
He rattled off just the three things he remembered off the top of his head. “The timing on traffic lights. Mrs. Palmer’s concerns about her daughter. That all of this ‘Roberto’ person’s family works here at his restaurant.”
Nik didn’t see how that was such a big mystery, or why it seemed to annoy him, but she could tell that it obviously did. She began to wonder if the stories she’d heard about the Cavanaughs’ warmth and friendliness was just a fabrication. Maybe they weren’t such outgoing, friendly people after all, she thought.
“I ask questions,” she replied.
He knew what that was shorthand for. “In other words, you’re nosy,” Finn concluded.
“No, ‘interested,’” Nik corrected him. “I’m interested in a lot of things,” she said, emphasizing the word. “Aren’t you?”
Her head must be crammed full, he thought—like a junkyard. “Just in things that have to do with my job and closing a case.”
The man had tunnel vision, and she felt sorry for him. “That makes for a very one-dimensional life,” she said.
He took that as a criticism. “It lets me focus.”
She didn’t quite see that as an advantage, not if he did that to the exclusion of all else. “You need someone to open up your world,” she said. Finished eating, she wiped her lips. “I could help.”
He realized that watching her do that was a distraction all on its own. Finn forced himself to look directly into her eyes—which didn’t really help that much, either. But at least it was better than looking at her lips.
“You could help by focusing on this case and not letting your mind wander here, there and everywhere,” he said sharply, annoyed with her and with himself for letting her lead him astray like that.
Rather than answer, Nik just smiled at him, like she knew something he didn’t. Or maybe he was just reading into her expression, Finn thought.
Damn it, the woman was unnerving him and that was really getting to him, Finn thought, exasperated.
He quickly finished up his breakfast. His fork met the plate with a sharp sound that proclaimed he was finished eating. He raised his head to look at her. “You ready to go?”
“Anytime you say,” she told him. “Although you probably should know that—”
He pushed his plate toward the center of the table and squared his shoulders, braced for a confrontation. “Now what?” he demanded.
“Eating your food so fast is bad for your digestion,” she concluded. “It can give you heartburn.”
It was really hard for him not to roll his eyes. It wasn’t eating fast that was giving him indigestion. “Let me worry about my digestion,” he told her, stopping short of being curt. He rose to his feet, then looked at her expectantly. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she replied cheerfully.
Roberto Perez stood proudly by his cash register. He was barely five foot five and had a full head of hair that had been gradually turning salt-and-pepper in the last five years. In all the time that Nik had known him, she had never seen the man without his broad smile.
“Was something wrong with your breakfast?” Roberto asked, concerned as she handed him her bill.
“No, it was perfect as always, Roberto,” Nik assured the man.
It was obvious that something wasn’t making sense to the restaurant owner. “Then why are you leaving so quickly? I did not get a chance to refill your coffees,” he said, looking from Nik to the man she had brought with her.
“I would love to stay, Roberto, but I’m afraid that work calls,” she explained.
Roberto nodded his head, strands of unruly hair falling into his eyes. “I understand,” he told her. “Come back when you have more time.” His dark black eyes swept over both her and the guest she had invited along with her. And then the restaurant owner added with feeling, “Both of you.”
“We will,” she promised, although she really didn’t know if she was speaking for Finn. She just didn’t want to offend Roberto. As for Finn, she was starting to think the man was as friendly and outgoing as a pet rock. Pulling cash out of her purse, she paid her bill and then added a healthy tip to the sum. “For Manuel,” she told Roberto, lowering her voice.
Finn stepped up the second she drew away and handed the man a twenty. Then he walked away before the owner could give him his change.
“Sir, you have change coming,” Roberto called after him. He stepped out from behind the register, ready to hand the man his change, but Finn just kept walking.
“That’s okay, keep it,” Finn told the owner without turning around. Right now he just wanted to be out of there as quickly as possible.
As soon as they got out the door, Nik turned toward him, wanting to say something about his being nice and giving a tip to Roberto, but she never got the chance. Finn started talking immediately.
“Do you always try to make friends with everyone you meet?” he asked. Given the line of work she was in, he found that rather an unusual trait.
“I don’t try,” Nik answered him. “It just happens. Why does that seem to annoy you so much?”
He didn’t like being second-guessed—or having her act as if she could see right through him. “It doesn’t annoy me,” he snapped.
She didn’t believe that for a second, not given his tone of voice. “Yes, it does,” she said, contradicting him. “You know, I think you’d get along a lot better if you just loosened up a little.”
“Stop and smell the roses, is that it?” he asked. Was she for real?
Nik mulled over the question in her head, as if she was actually thinking about it.
“Might
not be a bad idea,” she answered. “This is California. We have lots of roses, as well as a whole bunch of other flowers for you to choose from,” she said, her eyes dancing.
It really annoyed him that he noticed things like that about her. He didn’t trust himself to comment on what she had just said.
Instead, he asked, “You still want to follow me?”
He was curtailing the conversation, she thought. If she was being honest, she was surprised he had put up with it as long as he had. Maybe she was wearing him down a little.
“Absolutely,” she answered with a broad smile.
“Then get in your car and let’s go,” he ordered.
Having a change of heart, Finn decided that he was going to enjoy bringing this woman to the medical examiner’s. In his opinion, she could use a little sobering up. The woman was just too damn cheerful and chirpy for her own good.
* * *
The medical examiner on duty, Dr. Jonah Grady, looked none-too-happy to see Finn approaching him, although his expression changed when he saw that the detective wasn’t alone.
“I’ve only had a chance to do a preliminary autopsy on that body you found in the Dumpster,” the doctor said. “I only have two hands,” he protested, holding them up to illustrate his point. And then he flashed a welcoming smile at the woman next to Finn. “I’m sorry, where are my manners?” the medical examiner apologized. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” He put his hand out to Nik. “I’m Dr. Jonah Grady. And you are...?”
“Just passing through, Doc,” Finn informed him. “No need for you to make any lengthy introductions. She’s just interested in the cause and time of death for the woman who is currently occupying your table.”
She saw the annoyed look flash over the medical examiner’s face and quickly stepped in to smooth down any possible ruffled feathers. Didn’t the detective realize that he got more things done using honey than rubbing in salt?
Cavanaugh Stakeout (Cavanaugh Justice Book 41) Page 7