by Jamie Craig
“I don’t think I could find a way to shake you. Even if I wanted to. Which I don’t, by the way.”
He felt Duke’s smile, and the warmth of his mouth, and his cock began to stir again. The alarm would go off in a few hours, but he knew he wasn’t sleeping any time soon. And Scott was a man who knew how to make the most of any situation. He rolled Duke to his back and claimed his mouth, losing himself in Duke’s enthusiastic response.
Chapter 14
Discovering Horan’s interest in Young, and more specifically, whatever he thought Tana had given him, gave Duke renewed focus. Scott might be obsessed with finding out what the item was, but Duke was convinced the only way to discover it was to find whatever link tied the DA and the dancer together. Of course, walking up to Horan and asking point-blank was out of the question. That would garner undue notice. Duke had to be far more subtle about it, though at least he had his investigation to hide behind as reason to go digging around in Tana’s history.
He would have loved to go back to Woodson, but after the events of yesterday, he knew it was too soon. Horan might catch wind of it, and there really was no specific reason for him to follow up there. He could, however, call Chandra Cunningham and get a list of her current residents to cross-reference with all recent cases to go through the DA’s office, which turned out to be the first thing checked off his to do list that morning. She took his email address and promised to get the information to him by that afternoon, though she seemed less than thrilled with the continued prying.
It was almost nine by that point, and others were trickling into the precinct. Duke caught Captain Sager’s eye when he walked in, but other than a cursory nod, Sager made no attempt to initiate contact. One of the other detectives glanced curiously at Duke when Sager continued walking. Duke buried his attention in his computer. Let the others notice he wasn’t quite the golden child at the moment. He didn’t care about their speculation. At least, not that much.
Thinking of Sager made him think about Saucedo. He’d made sure Duke found out about the missing interviews; that might mean he had access to other information that could save Duke a lot of legwork. Had Saucedo known about the possible link to Horan? Did Sager? It was possible Saucedo had just known the whole case was hinky, and not known specifics. He wouldn’t know until he asked.
A quick request got him Saucedo’s personal information. He debated between calling and stopping in unannounced. A call would give Saucedo a heads-up. He might run then. But stopping in and not finding him home would waste precious time. Saucedo lived in Redwood City. If he wasn’t there, that was two hours lost, driving down there and back.
Duke picked up the phone. He was willing to take the risk that a man who felt guilty enough to share the missing interviews would be honorable enough to stick around for a few more questions.
The phone rang six times, then clicked over to voicemail. Duke disconnected and redialed, listening to the same six rings, the same recorded message. This time, he left a terse message with his cell number instead of the precinct’s. He was discomfited when he hung up the second time. Why was a man just released from the hospital not home? A call to Saucedo’s cell provided the same result. Duke left a message there, too, just in case.
His email pinged at him, distracting him for a moment to check it out on the off-chance Chandra had come through fast for him. She hadn’t. The message was just a note from the academy, asking for the clarification on some of the last set of training results he’d sent in. The email reminded him that he needed to make arrangements for Scott like he’d promised, and he opened his cadet file, flipping through it until he found the application he wanted.
This phone call was answered on the first ring.
“Mr. Finch. This is Detective Duke.”
Finch’s sharp intake of breath was quickly covered. “Detective. Hi. I didn’t…” He stopped and took another breath. “Hi.”
Unbidden, Duke smiled. “Relax, Finch. You’re not in trouble.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t think, well, okay, I thought it, but…” His voice trailed off. Any other cadet, and Duke would have prolonged the agony. He liked this one too much—and needed him, frankly—to fuck around with his head.
“Are you available for a meeting this morning? I’d like to discuss the possibility of a short-term assignment for you.”
“What? Are you kidding? What kind of assignment? Wait. This isn’t because of what happened with Abbott, is it?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I need someone I can rely on for some simple surveillance. I can’t promise you credit for it, though.”
“Why?”
Duke ignored the question. “Can you make the meeting?”
Thank God, the kid could take a hint. “Yes, sir. Just tell me when and where.”
Duke gave him the address of a diner near the Civic Center. “I’ll see you there at ten-thirty.”
“Yes, sir.” He paused. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate the faith you have in me.”
“You haven’t heard the assignment yet.” But he disconnected feeling better than when he’d dialed. Finch had the makings of a good cop if he learned a little more self-control. This would be good training for him, and, hopefully, he wouldn’t have to do anything more stressful than jog a little faster to try and keep up with Scott when James went into hyperdrive.
Ninety minutes gave him plenty of time to start looking into Tana’s associations with the San Francisco Ballet. The War Memorial Opera House, one of the most beautiful buildings in the city in his opinion, was located across from City Hall. He didn’t know for sure if the company conducted business there off-season, or if anybody would even be around at this time of the morning, but the school was located right across the street. He could get into one, if not the other.
Parking at the Civic Center turned out to be relatively easy, and Duke walked quickly along McAllister, ignoring the rear of City Hall looming to his left, as he headed for the ballet building. The weather was cooler today, the sky still gloomy, but in spite of the serious nature of his morning, his spirits were high. He’d woken up with James nestled firmly in his arms, which, in and of itself, was reason to be a good mood. He couldn’t remember the last partner he’d had who didn’t complain about being smothered while they slept. Scott seemed to not only not care about Duke’s predilection for physical contact in bed, but actually enjoyed it, burrowing deeper into his body whenever he possibly could.
The whole night had been both surprising and not. They’d finally acted on their attraction—which was the part that Duke actually understood. But the way Scott had relaxed in his presence, responding to his determination and then seemingly encouraging even more…that was the part that left Duke’s thoughts whirling in a million directions, when he allowed himself the luxury of considering it. Every moment they spent together was one step closer to a comfort level that left him both breathless and calm, an ease and understanding that came from more than their passion for this case. Scott had him weighing risks he would have dismissed outright before, and he did so without seemingly putting any effort into it. It was as if Duke voluntarily handed over the reins of his life and said, “Go ahead, you drive for a while.”
The most unsettling part of it was not truly feeling like he’d lost an ounce of control at all.
His destination arrived in swift order, and he stepped into the warm building, grateful for the reprieve from his disordered thoughts. The silence echoed around him, his steps booming in the empty foyer. He cast a measured eye around, drinking in the austere details. Tana Mayfield had spent most of her summer hours here. She’d had friends. Colleagues. This was the last time anyone other than the killer had seen her alive. Nobody connected with the ballet company had been implicated in any way in her disappearance, though the fact that Saucedo had conducted the initial interviews didn’t necessarily clear the company of all potential blame.
A woman scurried from a nearby room, a frown drawing her penciled-in brows together. She wa
s one of the tiniest women he had ever encountered, both in height and weight, and the bones in her face and hands were practically visible beneath her translucent skin. When she came to a stop in front of him, she barely reached the middle of his chest and had to tilt her head back to glare up at him.
“We’re not open to the public,” she snapped. This close, it was easier to tell her age. Late fifties, if he was kind. Late sixties if he wasn’t. “I must ask you to leave.”
“I’m Detective Owen Duke, ma’am.” Reaching into his jacket, he extracted his badge for her to see. “I’m here to talk about Tana Mayfield.”
Mention of Tana’s name hardened the woman’s features even further, her eyes flashing before a brittle mask fell into place. She took a step back, shoulders stiffening.
“I thought we were done with all that,” she said. “What else could you possibly need to know?”
“Did you know Ms. Mayfield?”
“Everybody knew Tana. She made sure of that.”
This was the first person he’d interviewed who had had less than the most glowing things to say about Tana. Duke maintained a neutral façade as he slipped his badge back into his inner pocket. “What is your name, ma’am?”
She looked even less pleased at having to provide one. “Delphine Kunz.”
“And what’s your position here?”
“I run the office.”
“Oh, so you worked with Ms. Mayfield.”
“Yes.”
He waited for her to elaborate, but when several seconds passed, he realized she wasn’t going to unless he pushed her. “Are you the one who hired her?”
Ms. Kunz snorted, an indelicate sound bigger than her. “If I’d had my way, she wouldn’t even have been in the Corps.”
“Really? It was my understanding she was quite talented.”
“Talented at getting what she wanted, perhaps. And she wanted to dance.”
“If you didn’t hire her, how did she get the position working with the school?” Working for the school was considered an honor. It had been seen as a stepping stone out of the Corps for Tana. He’d never questioned that she might not deserve it, though he couldn’t dismiss the fact that Ms. Kunz might hold some sort of personal grudge against the younger woman.
“The same way she got her position in the Corps. Through her parents’ money.” A sly gleam appeared in her eyes. “She thought she was smart, that one. But eventually she would have learned that money only gets you so far in this company. Sooner or later, you need the talent to back it up.”
The more she spoke, the more inclined Duke was to believe it was a personal grudge. Maybe she loathed someone as beautiful and nice as Tana had risen so quickly within the ranks, or maybe there was someone else who’d been sideswiped by Tana’s ascendance. Either way, there was no indication Tana had been anything but talented or deserving of the recognition she’d received.
“Were you working the day she disappeared?”
Ms. Kunz rolled her eyes at what she obviously thought was an inane query. “Of course, I was. It was the last day. There was a lot to be done.”
“Did she mention anything about her plans for that night? Perhaps she had a personal celebration planned.”
“If she did, she wouldn’t have told me. All I know is the work she left behind that I had to finish up.”
Duke frowned. “I thought it was the last day.”
“It was. You think just because the classes are over, there isn’t more to do?” Shaking her head, she turned on her heel and marched back into the office from which she’d emerged. Duke followed as discreetly as he could. “We were in the middle of reorganizing the sponsor lists. Weeding out the dead ones, sourcing new leads.”
“Ms. Mayfield was helping you with that?”
“She was the one that actually suggested it.” The office was neat and tidy as he would have expected for Ms. Kunz. The smaller of the two desks had been stripped bare, but she went straight for the larger and sat down in the black leather chair behind it, engulfed by its frame. “It was the only decent suggestion she made the entire term. With the economy the way it is, we couldn’t afford to lose anybody willing to help fund the company. And whatever my opinion of her personally, Tana was a natural recruit. People liked her, but then again, most people are fairly stupid, especially around a pretty young girl.”
The list of potential sponsors added an entirely new dimension to the case, opening up who she might have been in contact with by…“How large is the list?”
“See for yourself.”
She pulled out a three-ring binder and slid it across her desk. Duke picked it up and flipped it open, not terribly surprised to see the order within. The folder was divided into three categories—active, dead, and pending. Lists of names and contact information, complete with a section for comments, filled page after page. On a whim, he thumbed straight to the H’s in each one.
He found what he was looking for in the active section.
Bruce Horan. Active since ‘96. Mother danced in Corps when she was younger.
So, Tana knew Horan through the company, or at least, knew of Horan. It didn’t help figure out what she could have that he wanted, though at least they knew the two were in direct contact with each other.
Ms. Kunz watched him with narrowed eyes, prompting him to hand back the binder before she got suspicious. He would love to have a copy of it, but there was no way he could get that without direct cause. Some of it, though, had to be a matter of public record. And he knew enough now to help steer James along with whatever he might learn.
“Did Ms. Mayfield have a lot of face-to-face contact with the various sponsors, or was it mostly phone work?”
“It varied. Depending on who they were and how much they were likely to donate.” Her frown deepened. “What does this have to do with Tana’s murder? That man you arrested didn’t have anything to do with us.”
“No, he doesn’t, but he’s also been exonerated. We’re still searching for the killer.”
Her pale skin turned ashen, her jaw falling slack. “That means…you think it has something to do with the company?” She bolted to her feet, her flying hand sending a stack of papers skittering to the floor. She immediately crouched to pick them up, squaring the corners as she worked. “But she left here. We saw her go.”
Duke bent down to help. “I’m just following every possible lead, ma’am. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Until I get pulled out of the bay, too.” She snapped back with the sheaf of papers in hand, replacing them exactly where they’d originally rested on the desk. “How long will it take you to find my body?”
She was too agitated now to do him much good. Duke backed toward the open door, glancing out into the deserted foyer. “Is there anyone else present in the building I can speak with, ma’am?”
“Not now. They’ll be in after lunch. One o’clock.”
He thanked her, making the promise to return later that day. His thoughts were preoccupied as he exited, turning over the various permutations on how Horan and Tana might have interacted. An affair? She was young and pretty. She could have been taken in by Horan’s power and position.
If she hadn’t been a dancer, he might have thought she had other aspirations. The DA had a lot of political power in town. Anyone else might have wanted an intern position, or even a job.
The only problem with any of that was the fact Horan wanted something of Tana’s, not the other way around. What could a young, no-name ballerina have that someone of Horan’s position could possibly want?
Duke wandered into Sam’s Diner without otherwise paying too much attention to his surroundings. Only one of the booths was occupied, and he slid onto a red vinyl bench seat in the rear of the narrow restaurant, facing the street. He ordered a coffee and pulled out his notepad. He had plenty of time to organize more of his ideas before Finch arrived. Perhaps writing them down would show them in a light he hadn’t yet considered.
Raised
voices filtered from the front of the building. He glanced up in mid-scribble, his pen pausing over the page. Two men stood just inside the doors, unkempt, agitated, both towering over the small Hispanic hostess. She had her back to the restaurant, hands on her hips as she faced off with them, but Duke’s eye was caught by the other patron, another young man, sliding from the booth. His windbreaker caught on his hip as he stood. A gun was tucked into the back of his jeans.
His attention was focused on the doorway. Was he trying to help? Duke didn’t know. Then, the diner patron looked over the hostess’s head to smirk at one of the pair arguing with her.
Yeah, he was trying to help. Just not her.
So. Three of them. At least one armed.
Slowly, Duke set down his pen.
Chapter 15
Ben Malone was a beautiful man. When he walked into a room, everybody paused to take a second look. His was the sort of beauty that transcended things like gender or sexual preference. Scott would never forget the first time he saw Ben. They were at an arraignment, and Scott was convinced that Horan had sent the young assistant DA just to fuck with Scott’s head. It wasn’t as though his sexual preferences was a state secret. Most people who knew James Scott knew he was gay. Why not use that against him by sending somebody with devastating blue eyes, a full mouth, and perfect, broad shoulders?
When Ben had opened his mouth, Scott realized that he had more going for him than just his looks.
After their first night together, Scott realized that, while they were great in bed, he would probably be prosecuted for murder himself if they had to spend more than twenty-four hours together.
Ben may or may not have had the same epiphany about Scott. He was always happy to meet Scott for drinks, always happy to stay the night, and never even hinted that he wanted more. As far as Scott could tell, they had a perfectly satisfying, equitable arrangement.
Except, when Ben knocked on his door, Scott didn’t feel the familiar flutter of anticipation in his stomach. Not even when Ben flashed him a perfect smile, gripped the back of Scott’s neck, and pressed their mouths together in an enthusiastic kiss. Scott parted his lips before he had the chance to think about it, allowing Ben entrance. The taste and shape of Ben’s mouth was more than familiar. It occurred to him that he could just give in to the caress for a few moments—and if he did, he would completely forget about why he had called Ben in the first place.