Blues at 11

by Rebecca Grace

  “Well, since ‘they’ in this case is my department, I can’t say.”

  I inhaled a shaky breath. “Meaning you won’t or can’t?”

  “Probably both.”

  “I didn’t do it, Hank. That’s the God honest truth.”

  “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that over the course of the years?”

  Emotion choked me and I leaned toward him. “You know me. Do you think I could do that? Can you stop being a cop for a minute?”

  His gaze was cool. “Is that what you want? Or isn’t it more important to find out what I know, what I’m going to do? Be real, Kimberly. Ever since this thing broke, you’ve been coming to me. Is it because you want to be my friend or is it because you think I can help you?”

  His words hurt worse than a physical blow. Tears clouded my vision and I whirled away. If I could have stood, I would have walked away, but my knees didn’t feel like they would hold me up. If he believed that, I didn’t want to go on. The Queen’s reign was over.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I could feel Hank behind me and I stiffened as his hand touched my arm. His gentle touch calmed me and I drew such a deep breath I knew he heard it.

  He took hold of both my arms from behind and leaned close to me, speaking in a whisper. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Was he right? Why did I keep going to him? As his hands ran along my arms, my anger dissolved and a streak of warmth surged through me. His words reverberated in my brain, but in a different way.

  “Are you surprised I’d go to you?” I asked, as a smile pressed at my lips. “I mean, you used to be pretty good at getting me off.”

  “Shit,” he muttered and his soft chuckle warmed me all the way to my bones in a way the liquor hadn’t. “Ahh, Kimmie, don’t do this to me.”

  I leaned back against him, rubbing my hair against his chin.

  “Do you know how hard it is not to…” He drew a quick, shuddering breath and his arms folded around me, pulling me back against him.

  An edginess tore through my lower regions. His breath tickled my ear and I wanted him to hold me and never let go. It took all my willpower not to throw my arms around his neck and plead with him to fix this, fix everything.

  “Damn you,” he said in a gentle, hoarse voice. “You know the effect you’ve always had on me. I can sense you whenever you’re within ten feet of me.”

  His fingers moved along my arms, teasing me, tantalizing me, and I turned and looked up into his flame-consumed eyes. He lifted his hand to touch my cheek, and I could see the fire burning inside him through the warm glow of his eyes.

  There were so many times I couldn’t read him, but I could see his passion, and this was real so I gave in to what I wanted. I turned toward him and leaned against his chest, inhaling the scent of sandalwood, enjoying the firm feel of his body against me, knowing he was as likely to fling me away as to hold me.

  His fingers burrowed in my hair and I shuddered, whimpering, “Hank.”

  “Uh-uh,” he whispered as though he knew what I was thinking. “We can’t.”

  “One kiss,” I pleaded into his neck, my fingers searching his face. “I have to know.”

  “You tease.” He pulled me closer to him, and I could sense the hard tension in his body. “You already know.”

  I lifted my face to his and his mouth found mine, crushing down hard on it, his tongue forcing its way inside as though he wanted his whole being to possess me. I kissed him back, giving him my mouth.

  A soft, needy sigh escaped me and he crushed me to him, laying me back on the sofa. My fingers explored his neck, his hard back, and moved to begin undoing his buttons to slip inside and touch his bare chest.

  His hands skimmed over me, setting fires on my neck and then sliding into the back of my sweater to explore the sensitive areas.

  Even as I melted against him, he pulled back. “Honey, stop. We can’t.”

  I clung to him. I could feel his lower body hard against me, and I knew what he was feeling. “Hank, I want you.”

  He lifted his head to look down at me. “You know I want you. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more, but we can’t do this right now.”

  “No one needs to know,” I whispered, but even as I said that, I knew it was like throwing water over a fire.

  He caught my hands and pulled away from me. “I would.”

  My breath was coming in soft, shallow gasps. “You honorable son of a bitch.”

  He raised my knuckles to his lips and kissed them. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

  I stretched up to lean my forehead to his chest. “I hate you.”

  But we both knew I didn’t mean it.

  His lips played with my hair and he kissed the top of my head. “I wish I could hate you. It would make things so much easier.”

  Knowing his feelings made my emotions soar. I felt light as a feather, as though I could float all the way to the upper ceiling. “I think you secretly do. It amuses you to get me turned on and shut me down.”

  He held my head in his hands, his fingers entangling in my hair. “Let me assure you it’s every bit as painful for me as it is for you.”

  I looked up at him, stroking his cheek with my fingers. “Then let’s not suffer. Let’s do it now and plead insanity later.”

  He shook his head. “No. However good it might feel tonight, tomorrow we’d be in pain. At least I would.” He kissed the top of my head one more time before releasing me and pushing himself to his feet. “I better go.”

  The thought of his leaving brought me crashing down to ground level and I sat up. “What if someone has my keys?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I rose, feeling frantic. “My car was stolen. What if Brad made a copy of my key? I don’t think Senor Shoe is still around.”

  “Oh, hell.” He grimaced and shook his head. “What were you doing talking to Dominguez anyway?”

  “He was one of Rick’s customers, and I think Rick was seeing Paula Gardner. She’s his daughter.”

  He put a finger to my lips. “Let’s not talk about that.”

  “The truth is I would rather not be alone tonight,” I admitted.

  “Okay,” he said, tipping my face up to his. “Why don’t I sleep down here? You go upstairs and lock your door.”

  “There is no door up there and that couch will kill your back.”

  He looked around. “Don’t you have a sofa bed in the office? I think Dad mentioned one.”

  “Damn honorable bastard.”

  “I’ll stay there.” He gave me one last quick kiss and pushed me away when I reached for him. “I better lock my door,” he said with a smirk.

  ****

  Sunday, 8:30 a.m.

  Hank stood in front of my chart, examining it. He leaned closer to one of the neon green sticky notes. His brow furrowed into a frown.

  I watched him from the door for a minute before tapping on doorframe. “Morning.”

  “What is this?” he asked, gesturing at the chart.

  I walked toward him. “The notes I’ve been making per Sam’s instructions. Hasn’t he kept you informed of what we’re doing? Do you see anything up there that your guys don’t have or haven’t pursued?”

  He drew a deep breath, touched a name and turned toward me, his face deathly serious. “Tell me more about Dominguez.”

  While Hank kept saying he didn’t want to discuss the case, I sensed his interest in my board. “We know Rick gambled a lot. Maybe the old guy’s still working as a bookie, or maybe Rick was laundering money for him. Don’t you think that’s possible? He may be old and frail, but someone could be running his operation. Maybe even Ken Gardner. Maybe that’s why he got so angry at your checking on him. Maybe he’s the one who had Senor Z watching me.”

  Hank nodded, betraying no emotion. “During the night I remembered Senor Zapato. Reynoldo Lopez. He isn’t a man to mess with. He’s suspected of several homicides. Of course, no one can prove the people are dead.
They simply disappeared.”

  I thought about what the Senor said about kicking people and recalled how easily he had lifted Brad and carried him off. If the man wanted me dead, he could have let Brad start the job and then finished me off. Brad might even have gotten the blame.

  “I’m the star of this movie,” I said in a sharp, sarcastic tone. “Stars never die, so I can’t disappear.”

  He jerked back toward me, but he wasn’t smiling. Instead, he tapped another sticker. “Miles Brookings? You listed him and yet you went out with him? Or did you do it to get information?”

  “I’ve been accused of using people. Why shouldn’t I do that to him? He’s adamant that he wouldn’t have allowed Rick to marry the Bimbo. Who knows how far he’d go to stop it?”

  He pointed a fierce look in my direction. “You need to stop playing detective and talk to Callahan and Torres. Tell them about the information you’ve gathered.”

  “Will they believe me or think I’m trying to throw out red herrings?”

  “Maybe I can talk to them.”

  I shook my head. “You keep saying you can’t get involved, so don’t. All I have up there is conjecture. If I come up with something that Sam thinks is solid, I’ll take it to them for the dirty work.”

  He touched another note on the board. “What’s your rationale on Bobbi Brookings?”

  “Maybe she discovered what a cheating rat Rick was. Miles says she’s prone to angry outbursts. She threw a heavy tissue holder at me. Maybe she discovered the truth about Betty or saw her wearing that pendant and killed her too.”

  His head jerked toward me. “What pendant?”

  “Do you know if Betty was wearing a pendant with a diamond heart or if police found one in her jewelry box?” I held up my fingers to show the size. I thought back to what I’d seen at Betty’s office. She’d been wearing her gold bracelet and I saw a chain beside it, but I couldn’t remember seeing the pendant.

  Hank looked confused, so I rushed on, not certain if I was being helpful, but this was information only I might have.

  “Rick gave me a pendant when we broke up and the Bimbo had a fit so he asked for it back. Well, the rat gave it to Betty. She was wearing it the last time I talked to her.”

  He stared at me for a minute and shook his head. “Kimberly, I want you to stop. Maybe Gardner made that call and Singer made calls, followed you, and might have stolen your car. But Wells and Betty Arguello are dead. This is serious business. Whether you like it or not, you’re not invincible.”

  I held up my hands. “I’m going to lock my doors after you leave, and go through the books, okay? I have a whole folder full of material to keep me busy.” I didn’t admit the folder had been taken from Rick’s office. In the turmoil over Sam I’d forgotten about it. Now I was determined to go through it. “If I find out anything I’ll take it to your guys, okay?”

  “Tell you what,” he said with a wink as he walked over to me. He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. “If you behave all day, I’ll buy you dinner at the hospital cafeteria tonight. They’re keeping Dad over again. I might even bring you home and kiss you goodnight.”

  How could I resist an offer like that?

  ****

  Sunday, 4:00 p.m.

  “Tell me what you were doing at the pier last night?” Sam asked. “And don’t feed me shit about wanting to go for a walk on the beach. You can do that by stepping outside your house any time you want.”

  I should have known I couldn’t fool him, which was one of the reasons I’d stayed away most of the day.

  “Don’t you want to hear how I spent the day? I’ve been matching up the initials in the ledgers with copies of the bills we got at the office. I’m a fourth of the way through.”

  “Uh-huh. What about the pier?”

  “I need to talk to Delia first, okay? I’ve been trying to reach her all day and her phone is off. I think she’s coming home. I promise that once I talk to her, I’ll tell you about it.”

  It was more than losing her money. There was Toby to consider. I’d been calling him all day and never getting an answer. I was beginning to think I’d been right when I theorized that he saw me arrive without a bag and had taken my car in exchange for the money. With so many variables out there, I couldn’t risk telling Sam. I knew he’d go directly to Hank.

  His eagle eyes remained on me, but for once he let his tenacious curiosity slide. “Okay, what else did you find?”

  “So far all the customers and orders are real names and the bills match what’s in the books. I found out about the wine shop being closed too. Jennifer ordered the inventory. She’s angry about our visit and ready to sue or have me arrested if they can’t account for every bottle of wine.”

  His pale gaze showed no sign of surprise. His response was a question that took everything in a different direction. “Did you hear that girl was killed with a .38?”

  “What does that have to do with Rick?”

  “What did you do with your gun? Isn’t it a .38?” he asked.

  “It’s still at the shop, I guess. I didn’t see it in all the confusion. Did you put it somewhere?”

  “I’d just finished checking the damn thing when he hit me. I thought you were behind me and then he socked me over the head.”

  “I didn’t do it,” I protested. I was growing so damn used to saying that.

  His smile was quick. “I know. I heard you call out from the other room. But you better find the damn gun.”

  “Why?”

  “Just find it!” he urged.

  I didn’t understand his sudden interest in the gun, but I sensed there was something behind his request. “What’s the big deal?”

  “You’re certain it was in the box with the notebook, but that wasn’t where we found it.”

  “Maybe police put it back in the wrong box.”

  He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Police never saw it.”

  Now I was confused. “What do you mean? Of course they did. It was on the inventory list that I gave Hank.”

  “I saw that in the case file. But I’ve discovered it was the only thing they never matched up.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He lifted his thin shoulders in a shrug. “I hear things. People come in to visit and sometimes I fall asleep. Hank was here this morning and you know how he checks in. When I was dozing off, I heard him call Torres so I woke up, but I didn’t tell him. Next thing, I hear him talking about the girl being killed with a .38, same as what’s registered to you. Hank’s all upset ’cause Torres claims they never found the gun you listed on the inventory, like you’re going to pretend it disappeared. The thing is, I know it exists. I saw it there. They either missed it or…”

  “I put it back…” I finished.

  “Yeah? How did you manage to do that when Darryl, Jennifer Roberts, and her husband were there all day and night doing the damn inventory until shortly before we arrived?”

  No wonder he had not been surprised about the inventory. He’d already checked. “So what does that mean?”

  “I have no idea. What about the necklace? Hank was saying something to Torres about checking on some damn necklace the girl was wearing?”

  I warmed to that topic. That was the next thing I needed to tell him. “Not a necklace, a pendant. When you were at Burbank the other day, did you hear anything about Betty wearing a diamond heart pendant?”

  “She had a chain on. I heard something about that. It may have been ripped off by the killer. I guess she had marks around her neck from them pulling on it.”

  Was that the chain I’d seen on the floor? “Do you suppose the killer took the pendant?”

  “I don’t see how it could have much significance…unless…”

  “What?”

  “Two possibilities. Crime of passion, like I said from the first, or someone trying to point police in a particular direction.”

  “At me,” I finished for him. “Ken Gardner said he was going to get me.”

&
nbsp; Sam laughed and waved a hand of dismissal. “Gardner has his own problems. This morning after I heard Hank ask Torres to look into Gardner, I made some calls on my own. The reason Gardner got so angry about being questioned is that he wasn’t supposed to be in Vegas that weekend Wells died. And he wasn’t alone, which got him into trouble with the Dominguez family. Now the old man has his bodyguard tailing him.”

  “Senor Z?” Could Ken Gardner have been following me Thursday night? Was that why the big bodyguard was outside my door? What had Gardner planned to do? Whatever it was, maybe seeing the Senor panicked him.

  “I wish we had the damn board here,” Sam said glumly.

  I grinned and lifted my index finger in triumph. “Let me make you proud of your student, Gramps!” I pulled my laptop from my tote bag and put it on the hospital table. “After staring at the damn thing all afternoon, and then updating it, I wanted to show you what I’d come up with so…” I tapped a few keys and a revised picture of the chart appeared on the screen. “Tuh-duh!”

  “Okay, let’s start at the top and go through this whole damn list again, one by one,” Sam said. “And see how each one ties to Betty.”

  ****

  “Not quite like the fare at Geneva,” I said to Hank as we sat in the hospital cafeteria later that evening.

  I was in a good mood after spending the past three hours with Sam going through our thoughts on the connections to Rick and Betty’s deaths. Our efforts were paying off and things were falling into place. We’d given fresh motives to Bobbi the Bimbo and even to Miles Brookings. Given his brush off, we suspected that he might have been trying to set me up with that Thursday night date. He’d probably been the one to have our picture taken!

  The discovery of Brad’s role in following me put an end to our other fears. The killer might be out to frame me, but we no longer thought he was out to get me as Brad had claimed. Sam would be released in the morning and was coming to stay with me temporarily. He predicted we were on the verge of a breakthrough and while Hank didn’t agree, he didn’t protest the idea of Sam staying with me.

  Now Hank looked across the table at me with his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”