Hard Case

by Kylie Dodson

  "What conversation?" Jennifer asked. She checked for his reaction in the rearview mirror.

  Blake smiled sarcastically before turning his attention back out his window.

  A slow smile crept across the left side of her mouth. She knew very well what Blake was referring to. And even though she should have remained mad at him for his slip-up, she couldn't help but find amusement in his suggestion.

  As long as it remained amusement.

  "Go for Snell," Jamal said into his phone. "Yeah, mixed the numbers up, again." He listened for a few seconds. "OK, I'll tell her. Bye." He hung up.

  "Was that Harrison?" Jennifer asked.

  "Affirmative. She heard back from the banker. Turns out Nathan Driscoll made a large cash withdrawal from an ATM near Riptide. I guess certain accounts don't have withdrawal limits. Anyway, the withdrawal amount was one-thousand-two-hundred and sixty-five dollars."

  Jennifer thought about the number. "One-thousand--Twelve and sixty-five!"

  ***

  "Stay here," Jennifer ordered Blake.

  "Come on, Case. Not this again."

  "Look, I may be disobeying orders, but the captain is right. If we go in here and things go sideways, you could get hurt. I can't have that on my conscience."

  "I appreciate that you care so much."

  "It's my job."

  "OK, we'll go with that. Either way, I've been involved since the start of this serial killer investigation, and I was there for Kimberly Gamble, so I deserve to be in that room when you bust this guy."

  Jennifer and Blake stared at each other for a while, both of them in a mental battle of wills. Of course he was right. And Jennifer knew that. But she was a good cop. And she wanted to maintain that record. Bringing a civilian into a hostile situation was not going to do her any favors.

  "Stay in the car," she said before closing the door and ending any protest Blake could think of.

  "You could at least roll down a window," Blake shouted through the closed window.

  Jennifer and Jamal stepped through the front door of the Driscoll Construction office.

  "Ma'am," the front desk receptionist, Ms. Ackerman said. "Officer or not, you cannot continue to barge in here unannounced. If this continues, I will file a formal complaint against you."

  Jennifer unhooked her weapon but left it holstered. "You wouldn't be the first."

  "Ma'am, I would advise that you stay here," Jamal said, following Jennifer deeper into the building.

  ***

  Jennifer and Jamal made their way into Nathan Driscoll's office, badges raised.

  Driscoll stared at them, mouth agape.

  "Nathan Driscoll, you are under arrest for conspiracy to murder of Kimberly Meredith Gamble," Jennifer said.

  "How dare you," Driscoll retorted. "You've been harassing me about murder for the past four days."

  "You've also tried to solicit sex from a police officer every time I showed up," Jennifer replied.

  Driscoll stayed silent on that one. "I'm no murderer. And even if I was, you don't have any proof."

  "You made a cash withdrawal in the amount of one-thousand-two-hundred and sixty-five dollars. The exact amount that a suspect in holding admitted you paid out," Jamal said.

  "Is that the new going rate for murder, Driscoll? Seems insultingly cheap. I guess you got a good deal," Jennifer added.

  "Someone just told you that I gave them money to kill someone?" Driscoll asked in disbelief. "Who? I have a right to know my accuser."

  "Does the name Pluckus ring any bells?" Jennifer asked.

  He snorted. "You made that up."

  "You paid a mentally ill vagrant to murder Kimberly Gamble because she rejected you."

  "Probably thought Pluckus would die on the street," Jamal added.

  "What you didn't know was that Pluckus went back to Riptide the next day," Jennifer said.

  "Probably thought you might have another 'job' for him. Like a stray dog with a bone" Jamal said, laying it on even thicker.

  "I have to admit, it's not a bad plan. Hire a homeless and mentally ill person. It's not like they'll charge very much. And who would believe them if they did confess?" Jennifer pushed further. It was risky. If she was wrong, she and the precinct were looking at a slander lawsuit. But if she was right, it was a worthwhile ploy.

  "And this Pluckus...he actually confessed?" Driscoll asked.

  "No one said Pluckus was a man," Jennifer told him.

  Driscoll stared for a moment, sizing up the situation. "Well, I guess that's true." Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew they had him. "I'm impressed, Detective Case. Who knew such a pretty package would contain such brilliance inside? I was sure my innocent act was rock solid. How did you even connect me to the girl?"

  "One of the bartenders at Riptide pointed your hitman out. Then it was just a matter of figuring out what made Pluckus tick. Twelve and sixty-five. One-thousand-two-hundred and sixty-five. And now we're all caught up."

  Driscoll smiled. It was sinister. "Well, now you know why Pluckus went back a second time. And his incarceration explains why he didn't take care of that bartender. I knew he saw me with the girl. Pluckus was supposed to take care of him, too. Well, sometimes the best hands are one's own."

  "You did that one yourself?" Jamal asked.

  "Pretty sloppy, I know," Driscoll said. "But what are you gonna do, you know?"

  "Let's start with handcuffs and see what's next," Jennifer said.

  "Oh, don't tease me. You really know what I like, don't you? But..." Driscoll reached into his desk and drew out a gun.

  Both detectives stepped back, drawing their own weapons, and assumed firing position.

  "Put it down," Jamal ordered.

  "I don't think so."

  "There are two of us here Driscoll," Jennifer reasoned. "If shots are fired, who do you think will walk out of here?"

  Nathan Driscoll maneuvered himself toward the door. He was quick-footed. Something Jennifer realized she should have counted on, considering his dancing.

  "Put it down, Driscoll," Jennifer ordered. "Final warning."

  The door to his office opened and the Ms. Ackerman walked in. It was just enough of a distraction for Driscoll to make his way out, shoving his receptionist aside. It wasn't a good look for the man. Jennifer and Jamal followed him.

  "You're not the type who likes rejection are you, Driscoll?" Jennifer asked as the three of them slowly walked down the hallway, guns still up. "I don't know what you said to Kimberly, but you got a slap in the face for it and that made you mad."

  "It was an insult. I was willing to give her the night of her life. But she had to get violent. All she had to say was no thanks and walk away."

  "You wouldn’t have let that go," Jennifer said.

  "I guess we'll never know."

  "What about the others? The riddles?"

  "What others? The stupid poems that have popped up all over town? Why do you think I carved one into the bench I killed that bartender on? Pretty good idea, huh? Or I guess it would have been. But you just couldn't leave it alone."

  "Not good enough," Jennifer said. A part of her was relieved there was no copycat. Driscoll may not have been responsible for the serial killings, but it didn't make the current situation any better. At least that meant there weren't three killers running loose.

  "Sorry," Blake said, stepping through the front door. "I couldn't stay--"

  "Rivers!" Jennifer shouted as Driscoll spun around and grabbed Blake, placing him between all three guns.

  CHAPTER 21

  Nathan Driscoll pulled Blake toward the front door, keeping one arm around the journalist's neck and one extended with his gun pointed at the two officers.

  "OK, let's all just take a deep breath," Blake said.

  "Rivers?" Jennifer asked.

  "It's fine. Everything is fine. We're all just going to breath our fears away and--"

  "Shut up!" Driscoll barked.

  "I met this yogi, who told me that ev
erything is breath. So if--You know, we'll all just breathe together."

  "I said shut up!" Driscoll jerked Blake. "I'll tell you all how this is going to go. I'm claiming self-defense."

  "From who?" Jennifer asked. "Two law officers who you drew a weapon on?"

  "I'll tell the judge that your guns were out first. Who's going to say otherwise?"

  "You admitted to the murder," Jamal said.

  "He admitted to it?" Blake asked.

  "I didn't kill her. That was Pluckus," Driscoll told them.

  "Who you paid to do it," Jennifer said. "You might as well have pulled the trigger yourself. And even if you didn't kill Kimberly Gamble with your own hands, you did kill Jordan. You admitted as much."

  "You still don't have proof for either of them," Driscoll declared. "So you got my banker to tell you I withdrew some money. But there's no hard evidence for who I gave it to. That's the beauty of cash."

  "At this point, your admission to the two of us is enough," Jennifer said. "Add that to the fact that you drew a weapon on police who were well within their rights and their duties to enter your building on reasonable suspicion. So, no matter how you spell it, you're going to be charged and convicted of something."

  "Do you know how much I'm worth? How much of this city I'm responsible for building up? You think you're going to come in here and take all that away from me?" Driscoll jerked Blake again.

  "You took it away from yourself," Jennifer said.

  The construction mogul shook his head and sneered at Jennifer. "You're all the same. You pretty girls. You flaunt around your looks, trying to tie men around your little fingers. And for what? Huh? It's not like you're good conversationalists."

  Jennifer watched as Blake's face contorted from fear to annoyance.

  "I've had so many just like Kim. And even more like you."

  Blake's annoyance shifted to anger.

  "And in all of my experience, I've learned one thing about women like you. The only thing any of you are good for is what's between your--"

  The back of Blake's head smashed into Driscoll's nose, sending the construction mogul backwards with tear-filled eyes and a bloody nose. At the same time, he grabbed Driscoll's gun arm and pushed it upward. The gun fired off a wild shot, hitting a light in the ceiling.

  "Blake, get down!" Jennifer shouted.

  Blake dropped to the floor and Jennifer fired a round into Driscoll’s knee. The gun fell from his hand and Nathan Driscoll collapsed on the carpet, cradling his wound, and yelling at the pain.

  Jamal made his way to the wounded man, handcuffs out. "Nathan Driscoll, you are under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder, taking a civilian hostage, and drawing a weapon on two police officers. You have the right to remain silent..."

  Jennifer checked on Blake as Jamal continued reading Miranda Rights. "I told you to stay in the car, Rivers."

  He grinned up at her. "Come on, now, Case. I know we've only known each other for a few days, but when have I ever stayed in the car?"

  She took a quick look at the back of his head. There didn't appear to be any sign of a lump. "That would explain the thick skull," she teased and helped him off the floor. "OK, Mr. Investigation, on your feet."

  ***

  Captain McGhee had his fingers in the form of talons placed just feet from Jennifer's neck. "Sometimes, Case. I just want to..." He gritted his teeth and growled as his arms tensed. "How many times do I have to do this with you?"

  "Sorry, Captain?" Jennifer said.

  "Sorry? Sorry? No. No sorry, this time. You messed up. You went against orders and you even got a civilian involved. The guy had Mr. Rivers in a headlock. He could have put the gun to his head."

  "I think I handled it pretty well," Blake said. He held an ice pack on the back of his own head.

  "You're wounded, Mr. Rivers. While in the care of a law officer. Which--by the way--I'd like to give my sincerest apologies that such a thing happened. If you would like, our resident psychiatric specialist, Cassidy Rain, can speak with you in what I'm sure is a trying time for you."

  Jennifer had little doubt that Cassidy would love to have Blake in her office. In fact, she was sure of it.

  "I'm OK," Blake said. "Really. I am. Right now, I'm more concerned with what happens to Detective Case."

  Jennifer forced a grateful smile.

  Captain McGhee stared at her for a moment. "It doesn't set a good precedent, me letting you off. But...You did get one killer and a murder conspiracist off the street. And despite the fact that you did it disobeying orders, I guess it has to count for something. Keep your badge and your gun."

  "Thank you, sir," Jennifer said.

  She and Blake exchanged semi-excited glances.

  "This is great," Blake said. "Now, let's get back to that serial killer. I've got some ideas about the latest riddle."

  "Nope. No," McGhee said. "I told you that you're off that one, so you're off it."

  "But Captain--"

  "No buts, Case. You're off it. It's Taggart's deal, now. I don't even want you assisting."

  "Wouldn't it be better if she helped? I mean whoever did it is still out there," Blake said.

  "Not for long. I got a special unit that Taggart is heading up. They'll catch whoever it is. Take a few days off, Case. Clear your head. When you come back...well, we'll see what happens next."

  Jennifer stood up. "Yes, sir."

  She glanced at Blake and could tell that he recognized her disappointment, despite how well she thought she was hiding it. At least McGhee wasn't paying close enough attention. Though, it probably wouldn't have made a difference in his verdict.

  ***

  Blake stepped out of the precinct with Jennifer, ice pack still on his head. "So, can I give you a ride home?"

  Jennifer looked at the state he was in. "You sure it's not you who needs the ride?"

  "What, this?" He removed the ice. "This is nothing. I once got in a sparring match with a Mayan war chief. I mean, not real war chief. But the guy was a great boxer. I went three rounds with him though. So this?" He tossed the ice in a nearby garbage can.

  "I appreciate the offer, but I've got my own car. I'm good. And...thanks."

  "For what?"

  "I think we all know what Driscoll was going to say before you caved his nose in. I appreciate you...interrupting his train of thought."

  Blake stood a little taller. "You're welcome, Case. He was out of line. And he was basically a murderer, so...there's that, too."

  A momentary flutter hit her in the stomach. She tamped it down. There had been too many of those in regards to Blake Rivers. And there was no way she was going to let them get the best of her. Not after he almost cost her her job. That, plus all the bad press he'd written about her in the last year. There was definitely no way he was getting to her.

  Still, maybe it wasn't too much to at least admit that he was cute. A little boisterous, but personality aside, Blake Rivers wasn't too bad looking. And it helped that he did defend her honor. If chivalry were dead, no one told him.

  "Are we really dropping this serial killer business?" he asked.

  Jennifer looked back up at the precinct doors, pondering the question. "Pluckus and Driscoll may have been responsible for Kim, and Driscoll for Jordan, but not for the other two. Going against the captain's orders may not be a great career choice, but there is a killer out there and they need to be stopped. Maybe Taggart's special unit can do the job and maybe they can't. Either way, I need to see this through."

  "It's that important to you, huh? Can I ask why? Why this one?"

  Jennifer took a moment to think about the question. Content with her decision, she replied, "Maybe I'll tell you about it, someday."

  "I look forward to hearing that," he said with complete reverence.

  Jennifer smiled at him and stepped toward her Impala.

  "You know, Taggart may have a special unit," Blake said. "But there's one thing he doesn't have."

  "If you say something cheesy
like Detective Jennifer Case--"

  "No, no, no. I was going to say that he doesn't have Blake Rivers, award-winning and world renowned investigative journalist."

  Jennifer laughed. Close calls aside, and despite the bickering the two had done since meeting, Blake hadn't been the worst ride-along she'd ever had. "OK, Mr. Investigation. That was still cheesy. You sure you want to keep going down this rabbit hole?"

  He grinned. "It's going to make a great article."

  "There might be gunfights and explosions," she teased.

  "It's what I live for. I've already got the video expose planned out."

  "Alright." She unlocked her car door. "Just no more close calls, OK? Wouldn't want to mess up those designer clothes."

  "You noticed," he said.

  She could hear the rise of excitement in his voice. She may not have been Cassidy Rain, but she'd had her share of flirtations. She knew how the game worked and when someone thought the other person was playing along.

  "See you in a few days, Rivers." She gave a wink to Blake before getting into her car. She'd let him wonder about whether or not she was playing along, too.

  Other Titles

  A Jessie Boudreaux Cozy Mystery series

  Murder Before Breakfast

  Murder With A Side Of Waffles

  Murder After Morning Coffee

  Murder Makes A Mean Kolache

  Murder For The Hollandaise

  Murder Burns The Bacon

  Follow me on Instagram for cute animals, delicious breakfasts and desserts (some of my own), and samples from my latest works. @kylie_dodson

  (And I’d love to see pictures of your favorite foods, too.)