You Belong To Me

by Karen Rose

  JD relayed the information to Stevie who was already on her laptop, searching for local food packaging facilities. ‘That has to be helpful,’ he said to Trask. ‘Oh, and we’ve just left Christopher Jones.’

  ‘You mean his house?’

  ‘That, too. He was there, in the cheek-implanted flesh. He was very annoyed to find we thought him dead.’

  ‘But . . . that doesn’t make sense, Detective.’

  ‘It does if the surgeon goofed,’ he said. ‘The surgeon’s name is Russell Bennett.’ JD heard the sharp intake of her breath, then silence. ‘Dr Trask?’

  ‘Bennett? Russell Bennett? Are you sure?’

  He frowned. ‘Yes, we’re sure. Why?’

  ‘Him, I know,’ she murmured.

  Chapter Four

  Monday, May 3, 11.00 A.M.

  Lucy fumbled as she hung up the phone, unable to look away from the mutilated body on her exam table. JD Fitzpatrick’s voice still echoed in her ears. Russell Bennett.

  Russell Bennett. No, it’s not possible.

  But it was. He was about the right age, height and weight. He’d gone to Maryland’s med school. She remembered seeing the diploma on the wall of his living room. It was entirely possible. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered.

  It was impossible to see Russ’s face in the obscene mass of blunt trauma that lay before her. Still she stared, trying to connect some detail of the man she’d known with the body that had been so abused. Other than basic size, there was none.

  ‘Hey, kid.’ Ruby poked her head in the door. ‘You free for lunch?’ She came into the room, her brows furrowed. ‘You don’t look so good. What happened?’

  Lucy swallowed hard, then dropped her eyes back to the dead man. He didn’t look back. He had no eyes. Whoever killed him had taken his eyes. Why? ‘I knew him.’

  ‘You knew Christopher Jones? How?’

  ‘I was wrong,’ Lucy said numbly. ‘Christopher Jones is alive.’

  Ruby came around the table and grasped Lucy’s chin, tilting her head so that their eyes met. ‘You’re whiter than he is, girl. Sit down.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Lucy said, but found herself pushed down to the stool.

  ‘I said, sit down.’ Ruby sat on the other stool. ‘Now tell me what this is about.’

  Lucy told her what Fitzpatrick had said about the cheek implants and Ruby blinked.

  ‘Wow. Who could have predicted that? But you don’t know this body is the surgeon, this Russell Bennett character. You just know he did Jones’s implant.’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘I knew him. There’s a connection now.’

  Ruby’s eyes widened. ‘Knew, or knew?’

  ‘Just knew. I didn’t know him.’ But I might have. Eventually. ‘I know his parents. The Bennetts are good people.’ This will break their hearts.

  ‘So what are you gonna do?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m going to sit here until Stevie and Fitzpatrick get here. If you wouldn’t mind, take . . .’ Russ. No, it wasn’t Russ Bennett anymore. She drew a shaky breath. ‘Take the deceased back to the cold room. I shouldn’t have any more contact with this case. I found him, I knew him.’ And we had words. She wanted to wince. She’d had a lot more than words with him. ‘I might be a suspect.’

  Ruby scoffed. ‘You were set up to find him. The cops will see that.’

  When everything was known, Lucy imagined they would. But everything would have to be known. She struggled to keep her voice calm because every muscle in her body had clenched. ‘I’m sure you’re right. But for now, remove the deceased. Please.’

  Ruby stood up and yanked on a pair of gloves. ‘Fine.’ She wagged a finger at Lucy’s face. ‘But don’t you say one word to those detectives, I don’t care how hot that Fitzpatrick is. You say nothing without Dr Mulhauser here. Or your lawyer.’

  Lucy’s gut churned painfully. Lawyer. I might need a lawyer. Luckily she knew one. ‘You might be right.’

  ‘I’m usually right,’ Ruby stated. She covered the body with a sheet, then looked back at Lucy. ‘I’m sorry, kid. This has to be rough. He was your friend.’

  He was never my friend. He lied to me to try to get me to sleep with him. But that she wouldn’t tell Ruby. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Well, when this is over, we’ll go out and have martinis for lunch, okay?’

  Lucy forced her lips to curve. ‘It’s a date. Except you can have my martini.’

  Ruby’s sigh could have launched a ship. ‘Let me guess. You just autopsied a pickled liver.’

  ‘Not “just”. I get a steady stream of diseased livers. Booze’ll kill you.’

  ‘Honey, something’s gonna kill us all. I’d rather it was something fun.’ Not waiting for a reply, Ruby rolled the body back to the cold room, leaving Lucy alone.

  For a moment Lucy simply sat, wondering what to do next.

  I should call a lawyer. I should tell Craig. Someone should tell the Bennetts that Russ is gone. But the last one would be the detectives’ job.

  They’d be here soon, to do their job. It wouldn’t be personal and they’d ask her a lot of questions she wouldn’t want to answer. Terrific. Well, at least it would get Fitzpatrick to stop looking at her the way he had earlier. The man was too intense.

  And she’d learned long ago that intense men were way too much trouble. But then again, calm, seemingly sedate men were a hell of a lot of trouble, too. Exhibit one, Russ Bennett. He sure fooled me. Fooled us both.

  Gwyn needs to know. Before Lucy knew it, she was dialing.

  ‘Mel’s Morgue. You stab ’em, we slab ’em,’ Gwyn deadpanned.

  On any other day Lucy would have laughed. Today she had to swallow back a sob. ‘It’s Lucy.’

  ‘Well, duh. I can see the caller ID. You think I answer that way for everybody?’

  ‘No. Of course not.’ Lucy had to stop. Suddenly her heart was beating way too fast again as her mind raced. What am I doing?

  You can’t tell her. If the cops find out you told her Russ is dead, you could both be in trouble. Because Gwyn had also known Russ. Known, as Ruby would have said, and that hadn’t been pretty. At all. Gwyn needed to know Russ was dead, but not until the Bennetts had been informed. And not until the cops knew it all.

  Gwyn had not done this. Lucy had never been more sure of anything in her life. But Gwyn would still be a suspect. Just like me.

  You can’t let them blindside her. She’ll be so hurt. She’ll hate you forever.

  No, Lucy knew that wasn’t true. Gwyn wasn’t capable of hating anyone forever.

  Not like I have. But that was an issue for another day.

  ‘Lucy? What’s wrong? Are you okay, honey?’

  She couldn’t tell Gwyn, not yet. ‘Um, I need to talk to Thorne.’

  ‘What happened?’ Gwyn demanded.

  ‘Don’t be mad, but I can’t tell you yet. Please, put me through to Thorne.’ Thomas Thorne was Gwyn’s boss, their friend, and one of the best bass players in the city. Today Lucy cared more that he was also one of the best defense attorneys in the city.

  ‘He’s in court,’ Gwyn said worriedly. ‘But I’ll have him call you as soon as he gets out. This is about that body this morning, isn’t it? The one you were supposed to find.’

  Normally Lucy admired Gwyn’s quick mind. Today, not so much. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Lucy, just tell me you’re okay. Are you in any danger?’

  ‘No. I’m here in the morgue. I’m okay, I promise. And I’ll tell you as soon as I can.’

  ‘Okay,’ Gwyn said doubtfully. ‘Come to the club tonight. It’ll make you feel better.’

  After the day she’d had, the club sounded like nirvana. ‘If I can, I will.’

  ‘Mowry says people have been calling to ask if you’re coming in.’

  ‘If I can, I will.’ If I’m not in jail. Again. The thought terrified. Again.

  ‘Look, I’m meeting Royce for lunch. Why don’t you join us? I’ll ask him to invite one of the guys from his office for you.’

  Lucy wanted
to scream. No, I cannot meet you for lunch. I am in trouble here. But of course she did not. ‘No thanks. I’ve got a ton of work. You two have a good time.’

  ‘Mel’s Morgue is always bursting at the seams,’ Gwyn said fretfully and Lucy knew her friend had not been convinced. ‘You’ve got to eat.’

  No, I don’t. I really don’t. Nausea was clawing at the back of her throat and she swallowed it back down, injecting a calm smile into her voice so that Gwyn would stop worrying. ‘I ate a really late breakfast so I’m not hungry. You have fun with Royce, and thank him again for me. It was sweet of you two to wait around for my late flight last night. I appreciated the ride.’

  She looked up when the door opened. It was Craig Mulhauser, and he looked upset. Not angry, but very, very concerned and both the smile and the calm she’d conjured disintegrated. ‘I have to go, hon. Have Thorne call as soon as he can.’

  She put her phone on the counter, squared her shoulders. ‘I was calling my attorney,’ she told him.

  ‘Probably wise, just to be on the safe side. Ruby told me that it’s Bennett. I’ll stay here with you until the detectives come. Then we’ll play it by ear.’ He smiled, but his was as forced as hers had been. ‘I wouldn’t worry, Lucy. You’re an innocent bystander here. You haven’t done a thing wrong.’

  This time, was his unspoken implication. Grimly she remembered her last exchange with a living and livid Russell Bennett. She thought of the blood gushing from Russ’s nose and the very public place in which she’d said some very unwise things.

  Things that were now about to come back and bite her in the ass. Or worse.

  Craig cleared his throat. ‘If they ask me about it, what should I say?’

  Lucy sighed quietly. ‘The truth.’

  Monday, May 3, 11.00 A.M.

  ‘I liked it a helluva lot better when she didn’t know the vic,’ JD muttered as he drove away from Christopher Jones’s neighborhood.

  ‘I know.’ Stevie Mazzetti studied her partner’s face. He’d been taken aback by Lucy’s admission that she knew Russell Bennett. He’d been taken aback by Lucy in general, and while under any other circumstances that might be a good thing, under these circumstances it was not. ‘Why didn’t you ask her how she knew him?’

  He’d just told Lucy to stay where she was, that they’d come to her.

  ‘I almost did,’ he said. ‘But I figured Hyatt would have our asses for not doing it in person and he’d be right. The woman’s not quick to share, but her eyes say a lot. We need to be in the room with her when we talk to her about Bennett. Plus, we need to make sure it actually is Bennett.’

  It wasn’t a bad answer, Stevie thought, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. Even though they’d been partners only a few weeks, she’d known JD a long time and knew when he wasn’t spilling all. He’d been relieved in Hyatt’s office when she’d said Lucy didn’t have a significant other. And he’d been stunned and annoyed just now when he found out she’d known Bennett.

  He glanced over at her. ‘What?’ he asked petulantly. ‘You’re thinking again. I don’t like it when you do that.’

  She smiled wryly. He knew her, too. ‘She’s cute. Lucy, I mean.’

  This time his glance was a glare. ‘Stevie,’ he warned.

  ‘JD,’ she mimicked. ‘So, apart from the obvious, you’re right. We need to talk to her in person. But she didn’t do this. She’s being used for some reason. Let’s go by Bennett’s place, see if he’s home.’

  ‘He’d be at work by now.’ He frowned. ‘But if he’s alive, he’s got some explaining to do about those implants. He’d be able to tell us who got Jones’s cheeks, but he probably won’t. If he’s dead, we’re going to want to see his files. We’re going to need a warrant for his office either way. Gray’s not going to like us today.’

  ‘Gray doesn’t like us most days,’ Stevie said, although that really wasn’t true. DA Grayson Smith was one of the nicest guys a body could meet – outside the office. But at work he tolerated no bull. It would be terrifying to be on the wrong side of the courtroom when he was prosecutor. He was more dedicated than any DA she’d ever met.

  Even more than the one she’d been married to, for which she’d been grateful. At least she’d seen Paul during the years they’d had together. Paul had understood the balance between his family and his job. Gray either didn’t or didn’t feel he needed to, as he had no family waiting at home. It was hard to say. Because even she, probably one of Gray’s oldest friends, had a hard time cutting through the steel exterior he’d forged.

  ‘I’ll call for Bennett’s address,’ she said, ‘then I’ll start the warrant. You call Hyatt.’

  JD’s lip curled in a soft snarl that made him look like James Dean. She’d often wondered if that was what the JD stood for, but the one time she’d asked, he’d deftly sidestepped the topic. So she’d left it alone.

  Stevie understood the value and necessity of boundaries.

  ‘Fine,’ he grumbled. ‘I’ll call Hyatt. I suppose it’s marginally better than requesting a warrant from Smith. Check and see if Bennett’s been reported missing. Hyatt’ll ask.’

  ‘He’s not been reported missing,’ she told JD when she’d hung up with Records, and gave him Bennett’s home address, a luxury condo overlooking Inner Harbor.

  ‘Pricey neighborhood,’ he noted. ‘Fits with the Rolex and the shoes.’

  ‘That’s a lotta mammaries,’ she said and he swallowed a snort, turning it into a cough. ‘Now, you call Hyatt and I’ll beard Gray in his den.’

  Her call to Gray’s office line was picked up by Daphne Montgomery, a woman in her early forties who hailed from tiny Riverdale, West Virginia, a fact she told everyone the first time she met them, by way of apology for the ‘dang twang’. Stevie liked her a lot but knew that the woman was driving Grayson crazy with her big hair and the homemade casseroles and cobblers she brought in every day to tempt him to eat.

  You go, girl. The man needed a keeper.

  ‘Hey, Daphne, it’s Stevie Mazzetti.’

  ‘Stevie. How’s that precious girl of yours?’

  Stevie smiled. ‘Cordelia is just fine, thanks. Is he about?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s in one terrible mood today.’

  ‘He always is. Put me through, please. Tell him I said it was important.’

  ‘It’s your funeral, baby girl.’

  A moment later Grayson’s annoyed voice came over the line. ‘God help me, Stevie, I’m going to scream.’

  ‘What is it today?’

  ‘Peach. I’m allergic to peach. Gives me hives.’

  ‘Did you tell her you were allergic the last three times she made it?’

  ‘No,’ he said, sounding like her five year old daughter. ‘I will.’

  ‘She’s a nice lady, Gray. Put it aside and I’ll take it home. Peach is Cordy’s favorite of all Daphne’s cobblers. Look, I have a situation that needs a warrant.’

  ‘You always have a situation that needs a warrant,’ he said sourly.

  ‘This one needs a special one. It’s for a doctor’s office.’

  Gray sighed. ‘And on a Monday, too. Let’s have it.’

  She gave him the details. ‘So we need a warrant either way.’

  ‘We’re nowhere close to having enough for a warrant. It’s possible that your vic ended up with somebody else’s cheeks through an honest paperwork error.’

  She’d known he’d say that. ‘Then if Bennett’s not dead, he knows who our vic is. He’ll cite doctor-patient privilege crap.’

  ‘But you think he’s dead.’

  She thought about the ring and the watch. And the Roman numeral I burned into the victim’s back. We don’t have time for this. ‘Yeah, I think the stiff is Bennett. If he’s missing, can we get a warrant for his residence?’

  ‘We should be able to. I’m due in court in fifteen minutes, so call Miss Montgomery once you find out if he’s alive and kicking or not. She can get the paperwork started.’

  She hung up at the sam
e time JD did. He was rolling his eyes.

  ‘Hyatt has already decided Lucy Trask is involved,’ he said.

  ‘And you’ve decided that she’s not,’ Stevie said mildly.

  JD flashed her an irritable look. ‘So did you.’

  ‘I don’t think she killed him, for God’s sake. But she is involved, JD, on some level. She was set up to find that man’s body, whoever the hell he is. The sooner we find out how she knows him, the better. I hope to hell she’s got an alibi.’

  ‘That would be ideal,’ he said dryly, slowing to turn onto Bennett’s street. ‘We’re almost there. Did we get a warrant for Bennett’s place?’

  ‘Nah. Grayson wants to know if Bennett’s dead first.’

  ‘That would be ideal,’ he repeated. ‘Maybe this guy can tell us.’ JD pointed to a uniformed doorman standing in front of Bennett’s condo building.

  ‘Sorry,’ the doorman called when JD parked on the curb. ‘You can’t park there.’

  Stevie showed him her badge and the doorman frowned. ‘I’m Detective Mazzetti and this is Detective Fitzpatrick. We’re looking for a Dr Russell Bennett.’

  The doorman’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘He’s not here.’

  ‘Not here, as in he doesn’t live here or he isn’t here at the moment?’ JD asked with an easy smile. Stevie liked that about him. He could be good or bad cop with ease, and that Irish smile of his had disarmed many an unwilling witness in the three weeks they’d worked together. Lucy Trask didn’t stand a chance against that smile.

  ‘He lives here,’ the doorman conceded grudgingly.

  Stevie took a notebook from her pocket. ‘Your name, sir?’

  ‘Herrigan. Dennis Herrigan. What d’ya want with Dr Bennett?’

  ‘We just need to talk to him,’ JD said smoothly. ‘It’s with regard to an ongoing investigation. We can’t say more than that. You know how that is.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Herrigan said with a big sigh. ‘But he’s not here. He’s on vacation.’

  ‘Oh.’ JD looked disappointed. ‘Do you know when he’ll be back?’

  ‘Should be soon. He’s been gone for two weeks.’