Still Life: The Randi Lassiter Series, Book 1

by DB Kennison

  She patted Dammit one final time and shuffled to the bathroom.

  Later she padded into the kitchen to make coffee. While it brewed she stepped outside, hoping that Jon subscribed to the Mt. Ouisco Observer.

  Randi found the paper, which had been thrown under a mulberry bush, and was back inside before she could scare the hell out of anyone with her bed head. She poured a mug of fresh coffee and opened the paper, still clad in one of Jon’s T-shirts. It only took a second for Randi to find the story CJ was referring to—it was the main headline.

  Police recruit local PI to assist in murder investigation.

  Coffee spewed all over the paper. There, below the headline, was a grainy black and white—and now wet brown—photo of her and Jon hanging on each other at the gala.

  “Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” Randi threw the paper across the room. The dog came trotting in, grabbed up the paper and began chewing it up.

  “Not you, baby, you don’t want that. It’s all garbage anyway.” She took it from him. “Stupid-ass, small-town bullshit! This can’t be happening.”

  Fuming, she paced back the way she came, lost one of Jon’s slippers in the process, stepped into a coffee puddle and kicked a bar stool leg with her little toe. She screamed, hopped over to her counter, plopped down and held her pinky toe until it stopped throbbing.

  Dammit strolled over and nursed the little red toe by licking it.

  “Thank you sweetie, it’s all better now.” Dammit wagged his bottom and began to circle around in front of Randi. “What is it? You want to go out, huh? Let me get dressed and we can find your daddy. I’m sure he’ll want to see this.”

  An hour later Randi walked Dammit to the Mt. Ouisco Police Department with the newspaper in hand. Jon’s Jeep was in the parking lot so instead of waiting for the desk officer to return, Randi went straight to the detective’s room without waiting to be announced. After all, she’d been there before.

  Her little flip-flops slapped on her feet as she led Dammit by his leash. She was glad that the big dog liked her. Jon had mentioned several times that he didn’t usually take to strangers and that she appeared to be the exception. She’d never spent much time with a dog before—especially one so monstrously big—and she was surprised at how quickly Dammit had bonded with her.

  As Randi passed by the windowed walls of the conference room, she checked her appearance. She ran her fingers through the ends of her hair, straightening curls that had gone wild on the walk over.

  She’d dressed in a hurry, and had on the same frayed shorts from the day before, but with Jon’s other T-shirt tied into a knot at her back, leaving her midriff exposed. It was just too much shirt to tuck in. She’d second-guessed her choice with its saying: Cops Love A Big Bust, but it was the only thing in his closet that came close to fitting and she didn’t really care what anybody else thought. A casualty of sex in the kitchen, she’d found her tank top in Dammit’s bed, shredded like paper. She just hoped Jon wouldn’t mind that she helped herself to his closet.

  As Randi neared the door to the detective’s room, Dammit pulled hard and the leash was ripped from her hand. The dog ran into a different doorway on the left. She experienced a moment of panic before realizing that Dammit must have recognized that Jon was in there. Randi turned the corner and was puzzled to see a tall, attractive woman fawning over Dammit instead.

  “Hey, buddy. Oh my goodness, look at you! You have gotten so big.” The dog moaned as the woman rubbed behind his ears.

  “I’m so sorry.” Randi said. Confusion set in as she realized this woman was not from town and yet she knew Dammit. She tried to wrangle the dog away and had to set the newspaper down on the corner of the desk to grab the leash with both hands. Just as she was losing the battle, she heard a voice behind her.

  “Here’s a print out of the ME’s report on…” Jon’s voice trailed off as he entered the room. His partner Terri was right behind him. Randi saw Terri take in the scene, including the borrowed T-shirt, and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She reached out and punched Jon on the shoulder.

  He flinched and came to his senses, more or less. “Um…Becca, this is Randi Lassiter, she’s…uh…um…” He cleared his throat. “…she brought Dammit in.” It was obvious to everyone, especially Randi, that he did not know how to label her. Was she a friend, girlfriend, witness, dog walker extraordinaire, or—her biggest fear—just a one-nighter?

  Randi tried not to be offended. After all, she was the one who decided to pop in without a heads-up. She could put on her big-girl panties and deal with it.

  Then it dawned on her that he hadn’t bothered with the rest of the introductions. Without knowing who the woman was, just that she and Dammit knew each other, she could only conclude that Jon knew her pretty darn well. Before she could ask any questions, Jon had a hold of her arm, along with Dammit’s leash and steered them both out of the room and down the hallway. Randi was getting the bum’s rush.

  It seemed that he couldn’t get her out of there fast enough as he escorted her all the way out of the building and into the parking lot. By the time he had dropped her arm she was furious and had to fight to keep her temper in check. But it wasn’t like she had a claim on him, and she truly didn’t know if he had a girlfriend or not, and that was her own fault for not asking.

  Randi rounded on him. She did not unleash on Jon like she wanted to. Instead she took a deep breath and said, “Well, it’s obvious you’re busy and don’t need me in the way.” She stared at him, waiting for him to explain and give her hope that she hadn’t made some horrific mistake last night.

  After an embarrassingly long wait, she turned and walked away. “You might want to catch the cover story in today’s paper—FYI.”

  “Randi, wait!” Jon shouted as she picked up speed.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve got to run. I’m late for appointments. We’ll have to catch up later.” She pasted a smile on her face—one she hoped Jon thought was genuine. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel sorry for her.

  “Okay. Look, I’ll call you, we’ll make plans for dinner tonight,” he yelled, using both hands on Dammit’s leash to keep the dog from chasing after her.

  It was all Randi could do to keep it together until she was around the corner and out of sight. If he had, by some miracle, decided to chase after her, he would have seen the tears streaming down over her cheeks.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Randi arranged the neatly paper-clipped contracts in a row on her desk. Each stack had a sticky note instructing CJ to make sure line-item changes were accurate and all contracts were signed before filing them. Randi moved on to fussing over last-minute details she needed to work out before meeting the Phillipses again. It would be their final meeting prior to closing.

  She’d spent the morning worrying over Jon, the mystery woman, and that damned news article. Since she and Jon weren’t…well, anything apparently, the news story was the worst. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt her business.

  They’d made her sound like a useless pawn in the police department’s flawed strategy to catch a killer and Jon the chess master controlling her. She’d thought about calling the Observer and demanding a retraction, but since they never got anything right in the first place how could she hope for an accurate correction? Randi imagined what Jon’s reaction would be and was thankful she hadn’t been there to see it.

  The bell hanging over the front door chimed and Sonja DiBattista walked in. She hesitated at the entrance and then asked if Randi recognized her.

  “Of course. Troop caterer extraordinaire. Your food was to die for.”

  Sonja nodded at the compliment. “It looks like you are leaving, I don’t want to bother you,” she said in a heavy Slavic accent. She pointed at the closed sign that was already on the door. “But I saw the light on and I thought it couldn’t hurt to check.” The fact that Randi had a potential cli
ent immediately lightened her dour mood.

  “No bother.” She removed any doubts by waving her in. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, as you know, I travel with the troop pretty much year round. I’ve decided this is the prettiest part of the country and I may want to put down roots someday. Or at least have a place to stay while I am here. Georgia has been so good to me, but I feel I can no longer impose on her good graces. Maybe you could find me property that could be rented out when I am on the road. Would that be a good investment?”

  Randi nodded. “Absolutely. Real estate is always a smart investment. And if you’re going to get rental income and use it periodically yourself I think that sounds like a great idea.”

  “Georgia speaks very highly of you.”

  “She’s a sweetheart.” Randi gestured to the chairs across from the desk. “Please, won’t you come in and sit down.”

  Sonja looked to be in her late fifties, her nut-brown hair threaded with silver. She was stout in build with pale olive skin, intense gray eyes, and an unsmiling face, which happened to match her stiff demeanor.

  “Do you have a specific wish list for the type of property you want?”

  “I have been catering for twenty-two years and I have—how you Americans say—a nest egg to put down. But I am not a wealthy woman. Because I travel I do not want something with a lot of upkeep. It would be nice to have something in the country though.” Her smile broadened. “Something that would feel like I am vacationing when I am there. Woods. Maybe a lake. I know that’s asking a lot for the money I have to spend, but I don’t need anything big. A cottage, cabin…as long as it is away from people. Something peaceful.” She looked hopeful of Randi fulfilling her vision.

  After giving her a detailed wish list and an extraordinarily large figure to work within, Randi gave Sonja a current list of homes on Evergreen and Red Stone Lakes, along with a few rural listings not on the water but wooded and remote. Sonja had more than enough money to find the perfect property.

  “These are the lakes closest to town and there are some beautiful homes for sale on each of them. I’m glad you stopped by, Sonja, I look forward to finding you the right property.” Randi reached out to shake her hand as they finished.

  Sonja looked at the proffered hand and hesitated a moment before she accepted it. She nodded at Randi. “I’ll look these over and call for an appointment.”

  Once the woman had left, Randi started a file on Sonja. It was very thoughtful of Georgia to send her the business. She’d have to thank her later for that.

  Randi looked over at the clock on the wall. Still early—plenty of time to meet Sarah downtown for supper. Randi couldn’t bring herself to go home alone and think about Jon all night, so she’d called Sarah. She thought she could get through the evening without burdening her friend with the details of her sleepover mishap but figured if she needed a shoulder to cry on Sarah would be far better than CJ.

  Randi hoped it wouldn’t come to that, hoped she could put that lapse in judgment behind her. She knew that CJ had an adventurous sex life and that even the elegant Sarah had taken home the occasional booty call, what was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she look at her night with Jon the same way? The sex had been great. Shouldn’t she have him on speed dial?

  The problem was—she really had liked him. And the other side of the problem—she was pretty sure he liked her too. Granted, he never said it, but he had made it pretty clear.

  Or had he? Maybe she just saw what she wanted to and it was all a ruse to get her into bed. Slick city cop puts another notch on his belt. Nice. But even if that was true she couldn’t blame Jon; she was responsible for her own choices. Nobody put a gun to her head and made her have sex with the man. What’s done is done.

  She mentally kicked herself. Oh, grow up!

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Becca thought about the scene she had observed outside the window earlier in the day, Jon having a conversation with the blonde in the parking lot, obviously wearing one of his T-shirts.

  She felt gut-punched to see him with another woman. But hell, who was she to talk? Didn’t she just have sex with a stranger? The realization that they’d both moved on was a deeper wound than she’d expected. It was hard enough just missing him and coming to terms with the fact that she’d made a mistake letting him go, but to see him with another woman…it was almost too much to bear.

  She went to the interrogation room where she found Terri already in the hall. They stood together, waiting for Jon to come back inside from a break in between interrogations. Becca avoided eye contact with Jon’s partner, afraid she would ask questions she couldn’t answer—or worse, that Terri would feel pity for her.

  At their request Truman had come into the precinct again to speak to them. He even agreed to answer questions as he waited for his lawyer to show up, insisting he had nothing to hide. Becca had watched through one-way glass as Jon and Terri took turns questioning Perry over the course of an hour, trying to get him to crack. When his lawyer showed up they took a break. Jon had gone for some fresh air and when he returned they would proceed with a more aggressive attack.

  Truman Perry and his lawyer were on the other side of the one-way glass, deep in discussion. Since Larissa’s murder was a Mt. Ouisco case, Becca agreed to take a back seat. Terri and Jon hoped to get Truman Perry to confess. Other than his painting that appeared to be a rendition of the crime scene, the case was circumstantial. Without more evidence the district attorney wouldn’t be willing to prosecute. Becca knew if they could nail Perry for this case she could move ahead with the other murders. Give her the time she needed to build a case and connect the dots.

  Prepped and ready as they were going to be, Terri and Jon entered the room. Becca turned the volume up on the speaker so she could hear the action and resumed the video recording.

  The detectives sat across from the detainee and his attorney, Bosch Newton.

  Jon picked up where he left off. “Once again, Mr. Perry, you’re lying to us.”

  Becca nibbled on her thumbnail as she tried to read the suspect’s body language. Terri placed a line of photos from the Leuenberger crime scene in front of the two men.

  Perry said nothing but began to break out in a sweat. He looked to his lawyer seated next to him.

  “What is this? Are you trying to harass my client?”

  “No, just want to see if anything looks familiar to him.”

  Perry avoided looking at the photos and had begun to squirm in his chair. He reached up and wiped off his brow.

  Terri pulled out another photo, this one a copy of Perry’s own art print and laid it next to the crime scene photo. Becca saw the color drain from Perry’s face.

  “What is this? I don’t understand. How could…”

  “Don’t say anything, Truman. Detective, what exactly do you want? Ask a question or we are leaving.” Newton closed his own notebook to emphasize his point. Jon motioned for him to stay put.

  Terri leaned forward. “Can you explain to us how you created an exact replica of our crime scene if you didn’t kill Larissa yourself?”

  Newton spoke up. “I’m sorry. If you had anything firm on my client you’d have arrested him already. There’s no way you can prove my client positioned that girl in order to paint this picture. In fact, wasn’t the Lassiter woman crawling all over the victim before the police were even called in?” He held up a copy of the police report from that night. “Have you interrogated her?”

  Truman sat, head down, remaining silent. A moment later he leaned in and whispered to his lawyer. The two men exchanged a murmured conversation.

  Truman picked up one of the photos, examined it and set it back down. “It is an odd coincidence that…”

  Newton cut his client off. “I’ll remind you, this is the second time you’ve hauled Mr. Perry in and wasted his time. You are trying to close your case by fab
ricating a theory around my client when in reality you should be arresting someone else. Unless of course you’re protecting that someone.” He looked pointedly at Jon. “It’s my understanding you’ve recently been seen fraternizing with Randi Lassiter.”

  Becca watched the awkward moment unfold and felt the case slip through her fingers. If Jon got riled up he might give the lawyer exactly what he wanted. Fortunately his partner jumped in.

  “Mr. Newton, you seem to be mixing up your suspects with your witnesses,” said Terri. “A local PI who’s working for a respected lawyer takes the time to commit a murder, then dumps the body at the same location she’s working a case, then calls the police on herself while she stays perfectly still for twenty minutes? It makes no sense.”

  Newton was undeterred. “That’s how you see it. I could argue differently.”

  Terri snorted. “You could argue stupidly.”

  Bosh Newton and his client got up. “We’re done here.” The big man made a point of hovering over Jon. “I’d advise you to excuse yourself from this matter, Detective, before someone files conflict of interest charges against you.”

  Jon stood and spoke into the lawyers face. “I’d advise your client not to leave town. We’ll be calling you in again, Mr. Perry. Count on it.”

  With a nod from Newton Truman said, “I’m afraid I have a showing in Minnesota this next weekend. It’s been on the schedule for a year and I can’t afford to miss it.”

  “I’ll be sure you’re kept advised on my client’s whereabouts if necessary,” Newton assured him.

  The pair left, but Jon gave no reaction until the door clicked shut.

  Jon slammed the file down so hard Terri flinched. “Shit!”

  Becca joined them in the room.

  “What do you think?” Terri asked.

  “I’m having a hard time believing he killed Larissa, but it bothers me that he’s trying to deflect the investigation onto Lassiter,” answered Becca.