Still Life: The Randi Lassiter Series, Book 1

by DB Kennison

  A flash of the woman lying in the alley without her face intact popped into Randi’s mind. She shook herself and refocused on what she was doing. That was Friday evening, the day she checked in. Randi felt a sudden chill, as if this was a time machine and she was watching a woman living on borrowed time. She took a long sip of her tea.

  They saw a plethora of guests in a procession to and from the lot, as well as exhibiting artists—each carting a mass of supplies in totes, boxes and bags. Early Saturday morning Georgia could be seen walking around the property and directing a young man on which flower beds to weed, pointing here or there—obviously comfortable delegating tasks. People came and went, wandering the property with coffee mugs, field glasses and cameras. Midday, artists began to unload bubble-wrapped canvases, sculptures and boxes of assorted sizes. They saw Larissa leave Saturday afternoon and return an hour and fifteen minutes later with what looked like Chinese takeout.

  The main show was Saturday night, and they watched as guests decked out in fancy dresses, suits and casual attire made their way up to the lodge. Randi spotted Larissa among them in a sleeveless pale shift. A few stragglers passed by the camera after dark, the video showed a lit glow from the lodge during the art event along with the occasional smoker outside taking a break. As Randi and Georgia studied the sped-up feed, something shot across the camera lens, and the picture went dark. The women exchanged puzzled looks, and Georgia hit the play key again, slowing it down.

  “Well, what in the Sam hell?” As she went to play it for a third time, Randi wandered outside to check on the camera. She found a small black box mounted to the wall up under the porch ceiling at the corner of the building, in a prime location to take in the entire area, just like what she had seen on the video.

  She stood on tiptoe and put her head against the log siding to get a look behind the camera housing. At first glance, everything appeared normal but as she looked closer, a chill ran up her spine. She could see the wiring that ran from the back of the camera housing into the lodge. Randi heard Georgia quietly come up behind her and gasp.

  Someone had severed the camera wires clean through.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Terri had waited as long as she could. Driving home from the crime lab, they were out of city traffic and stuck behind a tractor hauling a manure spreader, as good a time as any to make another push. “So who was the chick on stilts and why did you become a gibbering idiot in front of her?”

  Jon groaned. “Her name’s Rebecca Howell…”

  “Yes, I remember.” She looked over at him so she could see his face. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “She’s someone I knew from Milwaukee,” he mumbled toward the passenger side window.

  “Really? She seemed nice enough. Did you work with her or date her?”

  Jon hedged on his answer. “Worked with.”

  “Spill it, this is your partner you’re talking to.”

  “Hey, I just didn’t expect to see her, you know. Caught me off guard.”

  “So what does she do at the Department of Justice?”

  “She transferred to the DOJ a year ago to take a position inside the DCI.”

  Terri slowed down to avoid the trail of cow crap that the farmer was leaving on the road. “Wow, Division of Criminal Investigation. That’s exciting stuff.” Her eyes widened but Jon did not elaborate, and it got quiet in the car.

  Terri broke the heavy silence after another five miles. “So you know that call I got while you were finishing up paperwork?”

  Jon narrowed his eyes. “Do I even want to know?”

  “Don’t think so but I’m going to tell you anyway.” She bit her lip. “We might have positive ID on the vic.”

  His brows arched up. “Can’t be from latents, we already know she’s not in the system.” He eyed her suspiciously. “How?”

  “It was the Lassiter woman.”

  “What do you mean it was the Lassiter woman?”

  “Seems she did some digging and figured out the woman was staying at a bed and breakfast just outside town. She’s already gone to talk to the owner.”

  There was a hard line to Jon’s lips, but he remained silent.

  “What the hell. Might as well throw fuel on the fire…” Terri paused, gauging his mood. “Lassiter said to tell you that someone tampered with the security systems out there and that she made certain not to contaminate anything this time.”

  “Christ. How in the world…in less than forty-eight hours…and we couldn’t even…” The rest was unintelligible.

  Terri shrugged. “It’s a small town. Not much gets by the locals around here.”

  “Hell, you’re a local. The guys at the station are local. Why in hell didn’t we know about this first?”

  “Wacko would probably say we’re too busy following official protocol.”

  “Well, this small-town shit is making the PD look like imbeciles.”

  “Careful now. Remember, you’re a newly minted member of that team.”

  “Can I presume that you’ve already dispatched one of said imbeciles to that B&B and that we will be meeting them out there shortly?”

  Terri smiled. “Yes, but I need something to eat first.”

  Jon didn’t argue. They were both quiet as they watched the sun sink over the limestone bluffs and set the sky on fire with streaks of red and orange. A few miles down the road she pulled into a bar in Riverton, the sign outside advertising Taco Tuesday.

  As they made their way across the gravel lot Terri asked, “So which arm did you break snowboarding?”

  Jon’s head snapped up. “What? How do you know about that?” He held his left arm up as if some indication of the long ago injury showed.

  Terri couldn’t hide her smile. “Randi Lassiter.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m guessing she needed to prove herself to you and the quickest way to do that was to obtain some personal tidbit of information and flaunt it in your face.”

  “What did she say?” There was an edge to his voice now.

  “She said she knows you’re a burned-out detective from Milwaukee, that you own a large black dog named Dammit, your favorite color is blue, and as a teenager you broke your arm snowboarding.”

  “What the f…?”

  “Oh, and that your fiancée broke your heart.” Terri bit her lip and held the door for Jon as she muttered something about being back in high school and the Lassiter woman having skills.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Randi heard CJ enter the office and move up beside her. She continued with her paperwork without looking up.

  “I think you should prepare yourself,” CJ said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Think about it. After that throw down you gave Detective Greek God with his mother and Walnut Ridge I’m betting he’s going to pay you a little visit.”

  “So what if he does?”

  “Then you must be ready. Sure he was grumpy before, but damn that man was a slice of heaven in tight pants and if he shows up here I’m going to serve him to you on a silver platter.”

  “You’re not going to swoon are you?” Randi put her pen down and eyed CJ.

  “No. But you might if he’s wearing those jeans again. If you ask me, it was worth getting into the doghouse just to see him.” CJ picked a piece of lint off Randi’s shoulder and ran her fingers through her boss’s hair.

  Randi swatted at her. “Quit it. What the hell? If he comes by then show him in.”

  “I’m not about to let him in until you spiff up your hair.” With hands firmly on her hips, CJ waited. “And for God’s sake, touch up your lipstick.”

  “I’m not wearing lipstick,” said Randi, annoyed.

  “Exactly. How on earth do you expect to ever get laid like that?”

  “Get laid? I’m just hoping not to get ar
rested.”

  “Oooh, now there’s an interesting thought. Handcuffs…hmm. We could work with that. Who knows where it could lead?” CJ’s eyes grew with excitement.

  “I should never have bought you Fifty Shades of Grey.” Randi pointed to the door. “Out.”

  “All right, all right, I’ll send him in if he shows. Your loss. I didn’t see a wedding band on his hand and you’re letting Mr. Potentially Right slip away because you can’t be bothered with lipstick and dirty thoughts. Fine by me. Don’t blame me if…” She was still mumbling the whole way out. “You become an old maid…genitals shrivel up…”

  Randi scrunched a piece of paper up into a ball and threw it, hitting CJ square in the back of the head. “Get to work.”

  At the last minute, Jon had decided to drop Terri off at the office so that she could check on the team working the motel trash. After that, he drove by his house to let Dammit out and feed him something before meeting with Georgia McGovern. On a whim, he decided to take the dog with him for a ride in the country.

  Jon hefted the massive animal into the passenger seat and instantly regretted his decision. Dammit slobbered on the plastic window, making a smeary mess. “Dammit, cut it out.” The dog took up all the space between the seatback and the dash, wagging his stump hard. “At least try to curb your enthusiasm and behave yourself.” He pushed the dog’s butt down into the seat.

  Al Ostlund was waiting for Jon in the parking lot when he pulled into the Walnut Ridge B&B. He was leaning against the back of his car with his arms crossed and looked pissed off. “She won’t talk to me. She says her friend, Randi, told her the only person she should talk to was you.”

  “It’s okay. You head back into town. I got this.”

  Turned out Georgia wasn’t too keen on talking to Jon either. She said she had a migraine from worrying about the young woman gone missing and asked if he could come back tomorrow. Jon explained how imperative time was in any investigation. In the end Dammit had been the motivator that got Georgia to open up and be comfortable sharing what she knew not only about the victim, but about Randi Lassiter as well.

  Jon called Terri on his way back so she could run their vic through the national database and get a jump start before he got to the station. They were running out of daylight. Jon did not hesitate to bring Dammit back to the station with him to save time. If the chief or anyone else gave him grief, they could hand off the case or fire him. At this point, he didn’t care which.

  Jon and Terri were both surprised to find that Dammit was content to curl up under his desk and take a snooze instead of roaming the office. The detectives approached the whiteboard with stacks of information to post. Once they had a name and general location of the victim things moved along quickly.

  Larissa Leuenberger was twenty-seven, single, and from Woodbury, MN, a suburb of the Twin Cities. Terri contacted the Woodbury police department who in turn contacted Larissa’s neighbors and employer. Turned out, Larissa lived alone and worked full-time at a local clothing boutique. They’d only gathered minimal information, and Jon was fine with that—it wasn’t their homicide to worry about, they had their own caseload. If anything came across the assisting jurisdiction’s lap, Woodbury would pass it on to Mt. Ouisco. Walberg would head up there tomorrow while Jon and Terri hammered away at the case here. After all, this is where the vic was killed.

  Jon saw Terri linger in front of the five-by-seven photo of Larissa Leuenberger as it hung on the board, as if paying homage to the young woman. Jon got that, it was a start. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She nodded and returned to her desk to phone Woodbury.

  Jon pulled contact information for Randi Lassiter. He intended to take care of that meddling minx personally. Her office was just a couple of blocks away and he needed to work off the tacos. He took his time, letting Dammit sniff everything on the short walk over. He thought of Becca, how he felt about seeing her today. It was not how he thought it would be—seeing each other again like that. But then he had been caught off guard. He chided himself for acting the idiot in front of his partner and cursed Becca for acting like nothing had ever happened between them.

  “Come on, Dammit. Let’s go.” He pulled the dog away from a prized piece of gum stuck to the sidewalk. “Saw your mom today.” The big dog looked up at him. “Yeah, she still looks good.” Dammit cocked his head and whined as if he understood every word.

  It was after five and with the exception of a restaurant and a couple of bars, the shops and offices along the square were closing. The office of Lassiter, Inc. still had an open sign up in the window. Jon pushed through the door and entered a tastefully decorated anteroom. He was immediately drawn to a group of black and white photos of historic Mt. Ouisco. The furniture was simple yet tasteful, a perfect balance between the modern and something that fit the small town ideal. He motioned for Dammit to sit next to a sofa, and the dog obeyed.

  In contrast to the serenity of the lobby, he found a heavily hipped woman with skinny legs and pumpkin-colored hair standing at the credenza against the far wall. She stood on a stool with her head deep in a file cabinet, tufts of orange hair waving as she moved. It took him a moment to remember CJ Daniels given that her hair was no longer purple.

  “Good evening,” she said musically without looking up. “I’ll be right with you.” Her voice was a muffled echo inside the drawer. She raised her head slightly as she spoke. “If I don’t put these away now, I’ll forget about them altogether and they’ll rot on top of the file cabinet.” She snorted aloud.

  Jon didn’t respond but stood casually in front of her desk. He cocked an eyebrow, taken aback as the woman half-skipped to her desk. She looked like an old hippie. In addition to her strange clothing, multiple ear piercings peeked out beneath her clumps of spiky hair. He was surprised that Lassiter would let this person be the first impression of her business.

  “How can I help you?”

  “I need to speak to Ms. Lassiter, please.” He didn’t bother to flash his credentials given that she’d recognized him.

  “Yes, of course, this way.” CJ turned on her clogs and headed for an open office door.

  “Told you so.” Jon heard CJ say as she accompanied him into Randi Lassiter’s office. The bizarre secretary hummed what to him sounded like a wedding march as she left.

  Jon was having second thoughts about handling this himself. He had the distinct impression that these women weren’t right in the head somehow. Perhaps he should’ve let Terri deal with these freak-show crazies.

  He stopped mid-stride halfway across the room. This breathtaking creature didn’t even look like the same woman. Where was the garbage-scented bimbo he’d met the other night? This woman was small and professional and—truth be told—drop dead gorgeous.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her complexion had a hint of tan—giving her a perfect, healthy glow. She wore skinny faded jeans and an oversized navy sweater, the neckline of which slipped down to expose a slender shoulder when she rose from her chair and rounded the desk with her hand extended. His heart skipped a beat when he noted her bare feet and pink polished toenails. Damn.

  Maybe this chick was crazy, but it was a sexy kind of crazy.

  Randi smiled warmly. “Good evening, Detective Bricksen.”

  Pull it together. Remember, she’s screwing with your investigation!

  “I don’t think I’d refer to it as a good one, Ms. Lassiter.” He tried to sound authoritative and not like a complete asshole this time around.

  “Well, it’s better than the last time we spoke. And please—call me Randi.” She came within inches of him, reached down and picked up his hand when he didn’t accept hers. Rather than grasp firmly and pump his arm up and down she simply held his hand in hers and met his eye.

  The moment she touched him a vision he couldn’t explain ran through his head. Waking up on a Saturday morning next to this woman, two giggling k
ids and his big dog crowding into their bed. The smell of coffee brewing and the sound of cartoons coming from the living room. He shook his head and scowled as he yanked his hand back.

  “And I would have thought your day was ending well considering the valuable information I’ve shared with your office,” she continued.

  It irked him that she was playing the innocent in all of this. He ignored her offer of a chair and crossed his arms where he stood. “Right, information that you should have passed on to us without making a trip out to Walnut Ridge.”

  “Well, it’s not like you were available anyway. It’s my understanding you were out of town.”

  “That’s immaterial. You shouldn’t be poking around in an official investigation, and you know it.” His voice came out aggressive but he didn’t care. He inched toward her, hoping she would back down. She didn’t.

  “I know no such thing. In fact, I know I had every right to go out to Walnut Ridge. I know Georgia, and I was worried about her.” She matched his step forward.

  “You know damn well you crossed the line. And there is a killer out there we know nothing about. You start sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong, and you could get killed for your efforts.”

  A little of the color drained from her face at that comment, and Jon felt a twinge of regret, but not much. “Not to mention you deceived my mother to obtain personal information about me. That’s dirty pool.”

  Randi smiled at that. “Your mother happens to be a delightful woman who thinks her son should come home more often. She seemed genuinely worried you’d forgotten your way to Oconomowoc. Was that where you grew up?”

  “Don’t change the subject!” Jon began to lose his cool. “The point is you should never have called my mom in the first place.”

  “I was completely honest with your mom about who I am and what I do. Unlike you, she only had appreciation for the fact that I am helping you.”

  Jon followed her as she retreated behind the mammoth antique desk. “You are not helping me!” He still couldn’t help but notice how her jeans hugged the curve of her—shit…he was in trouble. “In fact I could probably have you arrested for obstruction.”