God. I’d just robbed a body. Sort of.
Something rustled behind me and I glanced over my shoulder in alarm, expecting to find the shadow of her murderer looming over me. Nothing. No Maddox. No mystery man. No Solomon. Now would be the perfect time for Solomon. What was the safe word again? I scrabbled through my memory, gulping.
"Scarlet," I whispered, hoping the receiver picked up my voice. "Scarlet! Very, very scarlet," I squeaked.
The shivering took on a life of its own, and feeling sick to my stomach, I straightened up, subconsciously yanking the dress hem to a more appropriate length.
My hunch about the red head was right. Whatever happened to Martin Dean, she knew something. Maybe she knew who killed him, or what he was involved in. I looked at the single, solitary key in my hand. Perhaps he had trusted her to look after something for him? We were just too late.
Instinct kicked in and I moved the opposite direction from Maddox, to what I felt sure was the front of the club. Tripping and stumbling as I came out of the alley, I staggered into a wall of a man and almost shrieked. My fists reflexively moved to sucker punch him until I looked up and saw it was Solomon.
Throwing myself at him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on, relief washing through me. After a moment of him standing still and I feeling too relieved to be awkward, he put his arms around me and held me close to him. My head rested against his warm chest as his hand stroked my back. Slowly, the violent shivering stopped.
"I heard gun shots through the wire," he said. “I was looking for you when you said the safe word.”
"Back there. The woman we were looking for. Tallulah. She's dead," I gasped into his shirt, clutching the material in my fingers. I had no idea how my hands ended up inside his jacket and chose not to care. He was warm, familiar… he wasn’t going to shoot me. "Shot," I squeaked, blinking rapidly at the recollection of her face, frozen in death. “Someone shot her.”
The back-stroking didn’t stop, even as he asked, "Maddox?"
"We saw someone and he chased after him. He isn’t armed! Maddox that is. Maddox isn’t armed and the other guy has a gun!" Panic streaked through my voice as I babbled.
Solomon maneuvered me towards the building and detached himself, which was quite a feat given my limpet-like grip on him. Holding me by the arms, he bent his head and looked into my eyes. "I’m sure Maddox is armed. He’ll be fine. Stay here. Don't move," he ordered, “I’m going to check.” He took off down the alley, returning a couple of minutes later, his demeanor sober. "Let's get out of here," he said, folding me into him, only his presence stopping my knees from buckling. "Backup's on its way."
The Lexus was parked in an alley a hundred feet away. Solomon deposited me inside and went in search of Maddox. I sat huddled in the front seat, feeling cold and exposed in the skimpy garments. More than anything, I was just frightened. I scoured every shadow for the whites of a killer’s eyes, every nook for a crouching figure, expecting the mystery man to leap out at any moment, his gun aimed at me. In his other hand would be Maddox’s severed head. I squeezed my eyes shut.
So when the door opened, I jumped a mile. But instead of a murderer, it was Solomon. Not that his presence stopped my shivering that started up again with a vengeance. He closed the door and slipped off his jacket. Reaching over to me, he wrapped it around my shoulders. I pulled it close, and for a moment, I just closed my eyes, with my head bowed, my knees knocking together. The jacket smelled of him, fresh with the faintest scent of spice and warmed by his body heat. When I opened my eyes, he was still sitting there, just waiting patiently.
"Is Maddox okay?" I asked, afraid of what he might tell me.
"He's fine. He's waiting for the police." Solomon slipped the key in and the engine turned over. "You don't need to be part of that."
I glanced at his shadowed face. "But I found her."
"And you shouldn't have."
"I'm part of the crime scene."
"And Maddox is the police," Solomon pointed out. "I'm taking you home. No arguments."
I was too shaken up to protest. "Okay," I whispered. Reaching inside my top, I pulled out the wire, switched it off and held it until Solomon gently took it from me and pocketed it. He pulled the seatbelt around me and buckled it, making sure his jacket was still tucked around me.
Solomon turned the heat on and pointed the vents at me, warming me up. He drove slowly out of the alley between the buildings and didn't turn the lights on until we hit the street. We rode in silence all the way home. He parked outside my building, shutting off the engine and walked around to open my door.
Still stunned, I took his hand and held onto it as he followed me to the door, and stayed behind me as I walked up to my apartment, opening the locks like a robot, thoroughly attuned to doing it automatically.
"I'll be okay from here," I said.
"All the same, I'd rather make sure."
I stepped inside and held the door open for Solomon to pass through. I followed him into the living room and sank onto the couch. I pulled off my ridiculous shoes and tossed them into the corner; then I shrugged off Solomon's jacket and folded it over the arm of the couch.
"I've gotta get out of this," I said, waving a hand at my outfit. It seemed puerile, after seeing the dead woman, for me to be dressed up, like I was playing undercover spy in a game. More than anything, seeing her dead eyes drove it home that this wasn't fun. It wasn't a break from real life. It wasn’t pleasurable anymore or something to entertain Lily with or to stop me from being bored at the office. Someone was killing people and it was too close to comfort for me.
I took a deep breath, swore I wouldn't cry in front of Solomon and retreated to my bedroom. I peeled off the dress and hotpants, tossing them into the hamper. Something dropped to the floor and I blinked at the noise, then looked down. I'd forgotten all about finding the keys. Stooping down, I picked them up, and for a moment, just held them while trying not to break down. I wanted to pull on my jammies and crawl into bed, squeeze my eyes shut and pretend it was a nightmare, but I couldn't do that with Solomon waiting in the living room. So, instead, I pulled on jeans, a sweatshirt and thick socks and went into the bathroom to scrub off the makeup and wash my hands.
I took my time, half expecting Solomon to leave, but when I returned to the living room, he was waiting for me. Sitting half reclined in the armchair, one leg slung casually over the other, his hands folded behind his head, he looked utterly at ease.
"I'm feeling better," I said. "You really don't need to babysit me."
"I know," he said, but didn't make any gesture to leave.
"Beer?" I suggested, because I sure as hell needed one. The wine earlier and the sip of martini weren't enough to fortify me. Ethanol would probably have worked, but I was fresh out.
"Sounds good."
I padded out of the living room and opened the refrigerator, skirting past the leftovers tub from my mother to reach the beer. Maddox’s and my plates were by the sink, but I would deal with those in the morning. I pulled out two bottles for Solomon and me, snapping the caps off before walking back into the living room. I flopped onto the couch, passing a bottle to Solomon, as I took a long swig on mine. I was really tempted to chug it.
"Tell me what happened," said Solomon when I opened my eyes again.
I told him about seeing the woman, then checking out the bathroom and finding the toilet tank lid askew, but she was already gone. I told him Maddox spotted them heading out back and followed the couple out to the alley when we heard the shot. "If we assume Dean was part of the fraud, and she was his girlfriend or something, he must have given her something to hide," I said, "But I don't know what. It must have been really small."
"Or in a waterproof bag," suggested Solomon.
"I guess. Whatever it was, Dean didn't want to keep it at home or at work." I took another swallow. "You heard everything the waitress told us. Any clues?"
"Not one."
"This sucks." I pulled the keys out of my
jeans pocket and passed them to Solomon. "These were in Tallulah's hand when I found her and this little key too. I don't know why I picked them up. I just did."
Solomon examined them and came to the same conclusion as me. "House and car keys. I'll let Maddox know to look out for her car. It's probably parked nearby. What are the smaller keys?"
"You tell me. Maybe a locker?"
"Too small."
I straightened up. "Could it be something useful?"
"Maybe."
"You think Lily is okay?" I felt bad for leaving her behind, even though I knew she had her own car parked in the employee's secure lot and planned to drive home alone anyway at closing time, long after we were gone.
"Maddox called while you were in the bedroom. The club's been shut down and everyone has been detained. Your friend is still there."
"I've seen two dead people in a week," I said, draining my bottle. "Have you seen dead people?"
"Too many."
"Oh." It was probably best not to dwell on that. “Is Solomon your first name or last?”
“Last.”
“What’s your first?”
He looked at me for a long time. Just when I started to regret asking, he said softly, “John.”
Maddox arrived an hour, and two beers, later. After a brief discussion in hushed voices in the hallway, Solomon left without saying goodbye, although I didn't have the energy to be irked, and Maddox walked in.
"How're you holding up?" he asked, sitting next to me and pulling me into his arms.
I held up my bottle and gave him a lopsided smile. "Marvelous," I said with a hiccup, then a yawn. The fright had worn off and sleep beckoned. I hoped I wouldn’t dream tonight. "What happened?"
"I saw the guy and ran after him, but he gave me the slip so I walked back to where I left you, but you'd gone and Solomon was there. The body you found was Tallulah, Dean's girlfriend."
"I guessed. She was shot." Of course, he knew that. He’d seen her. I just couldn’t get past it.
"The crime scene investigators are doing their thing and Montgomery PD are questioning everyone in the building. Lily won't be home for a while, but I had someone check on her and she's okay."
"Why didn't you stay?" I waited for him to say, ‘because he wanted to be with me.’
"I didn't want to blow my cover."
Oh, well.
"Did you see who shot her?"
"Barely. White guy, shorter than me. Almost certainly the same man the waitress saw."
"So that narrows it down to, what? Forty percent of Montgomery?"
"Yeah."
I thought about that for a moment. Whoever this guy was, he would be almost impossible to find, given our vague description. I doubted anyone in the club saw anything, except maybe the waitress. Everyone else was concentrating on the performers or bumping and grinding on the dance floor. If he were an average guy, no one would have paid him a second glance. Our best witness was dead. For the second time, I thought about the keys.
"I found keys in her hand and gave them to Solomon."
"He said. Maybe she was getting ready to go back to her car or..."
"Maybe she thought she could fight the guy off?"
"With just her keys?"
"It would be the only weapon she had." I made a jabbing motion.
"Some weapon," said Maddox.
I uncurled my legs and walked into the kitchen, pouring myself a large glass of water. Maddox followed me and leaned against the doorjamb, waiting.
"You know, a key could have been hidden in the toilet tank," I said. "It's small. It wouldn't be damaged by the water. If Dean trusted her and he knew she could only hide something in there if he were with her, and could only pick it up if she had a guy, him, with her, he might have had her hide something,” I babbled. “He might figure it was safer than keeping it at home or the office."
Maddox nodded. "Sounds plausible. I'll check with the M.E. to see if her hands were wet when they got to her."
"That wouldn't matter," I pointed out. "She could have dried her hands on her dress or a paper towel."
"Why didn't her attacker take the key with him, if that's what he wanted?"
"Maybe we disturbed him?" I suggested. "It could only have been seconds between her getting shot and you running outside."
"I didn't even see her. I just took off after him. He could have grabbed it from her."
"Maybe she wouldn't give it up. Maybe she knew he would kill her if she gave it to him. Maybe she was bargaining?"
"There wasn't a lot of time to bargain," Maddox pointed out.
"Not by the time they were outside," I said. I drank the water and turned to pour myself another glass. I didn't want a hangover in the morning on top of everything else. "Maybe she was bargaining the whole time? 'I'll get you the key—if that's what it was—and you let me live.' That sort of thing."
"But she had her keys in her hand."
I smiled. "The guy didn't go into the bathroom though. He waited outside, like you did. Tallulah could have gone in and switched the keys. She could have put the mystery key on her keyring and given him a different one. One of them wasn’t on her keyring. Or maybe she just wanted to confuse him."
"Why would she do that?"
"Bargaining still, or to confuse him," I said. "He might not have known what he was looking for. Or maybe she didn't know Dean was dead yet."
"Maybe."
"Maybe she wouldn't give up the keys," I continued, even though I started to think we were talking in circles now, "so the murderer had to kill her too. What if he was going to grab them when we came out? He'd have to take off when he saw you."
"If that's true. He'll still need the key. It's a long shot."
"What would he need to do to get the keys now? If that's what he wanted all along?"
"Normally, they'd go with the body to the morgue. The M.E. would put all the effects together for the next of kin, if we don't need it as evidence. If it's evidence, it goes to the evidence locker."
"So... if he hasn't gotten them already, there's no way he could get the key now Solomon has them?"
"It's unlikely," agreed Maddox. "You did right picking them up."
It didn't feel right, not one bit, plucking the keys out of Tallulah's dead hands.
Chapter Nine
I had no recollection of crawling into bed and passing out. When I woke up, Maddox was clattering around in the kitchen, singing softly and a large glass of water was on my nightstand. I rolled my thumping head to eye the pillow adjacent to mine. No indentations. Despite that, my jeans had magically disappeared, but my sweatshirt was still in place. I changed into clean jeans and a fresh top before dragging a brush through my hair, and tumbling into the bathroom to splash some water on my face.
"I made scrambled eggs," said Maddox when I wandered through, yawning, noting the reappearance of my jacket on the rack in the entryway as I passed by. "And tea. You don't have a lot of food. What do you eat?"
"Food that people bring mostly," I said. "You... stayed over?" Again, I stopped myself from saying. Strangely, I didn’t mind that he’d stayed. It was nice having company. Definitely reassuring after last night.
"Yeah. We made passionate love, then fell asleep. You were an animal." He watched my mouth drop open as I tried to remember any shenanigans, then laughed when my eyes continued to flit. "You fell asleep on the couch, so I put you in bed. I slept on the couch."
"Ah."
"I didn't want to leave you on your own." Maddox thrust the plate of eggs at me and added two slices of toast.
"Thanks." I wasn't sure if I was thanking him for breakfast, or taking care of me. Both, I thought. It was pretty considerate, given everything we’d been through in the last few days. I would have felt horrible waking up to an empty apartment. I wondered if Lily was okay and if she were downstairs yet.
He gathered up his own plate and the mugs, nudging me towards the living room.
"Sorry for passing out on you," I said.
"No need for apologies. Two bodies in one week is cause for a good drinking session."
"Never again," I moaned as my head thumped when I sat at my small dining table. Normally, I squashed it into the corner of the room, a nod to civilized eating that satisfied my mother, on the rare occasions she came over. Today it seemed nice. Nicer still with Maddox.
"Bodies or drinking?"
"Both."
"I have an ulterior motive for staying over," Maddox confessed. "I need to take your statement and I didn't want to drive all the way home, then back again."
For some reason, I hadn't really thought about Maddox having his own home, much like I couldn't imagine Solomon living in a neat, one-family unit. I wondered how Maddox decorated it, and what he liked. "Where do you live?" I asked.
"Harbridge," he said.
"Alone?" I asked.
"Is this your way of asking if I'm a mommy's boy?"
"Are you?"
"No, I have my own place. I even do my own laundry."
"I bet your mother is proud."
"She is."
I shoveled the buttery eggs into my mouth, swallowed, and demolished a piece of toast, washing it all down with a hot gulp of sugary tea. Finally, I pushed the plate to one side and slumped in my seat.
"How's the head?" asked Maddox. He munched a slice of toast and a little butter caught in his lip. I thought about licking it off.
"It's okay. I didn't drink that much."
"It was probably the shock."
"Probably," I agreed, waiting as he ate his breakfast. When he finished, I took our plates into the kitchen and refreshed our mugs. "Let's get this over with," I said and Maddox retrieved his notepad and a digital recorder.
An hour later, Maddox was gone, my statement on tape. He said he'd type it up himself and make sure it remained confidential until the investigation was complete. Tallulah, as we still called her, would also remain a confidential case until then. At some point, I would probably have to testify, but I tried not to think about that. I hadn't actually seen either murder, just the immediate aftermath. I hadn't even seen Tallulah's murderer up close, so my testimony wouldn't be the concrete evidence a prosecutor could use anyway.
Armed and Fabulous (Lexi Graves Mysteries) Page 13