Never Cry Uncle

by Mia Dymond

Detective Ben Ramsey shoved open the heavy metal door of the Maplewood Police Department with one hand while he balanced his Red Bull energy drink and powdered donuts in the other. Between a caffeine jolt and sugar overload, he might be able to make it through the day on two hours of sleep.

  Damn, he hated murder investigations. There was too much red tape involved. If the department would just let him do things his way, his job wouldn’t be so complicated. Better yet, if the political bullshit hadn’t chased away his partner, Ben would feel much more optimistic about working this case.

  He negotiated the maze of the overcrowded and obnoxiously loud squad room, thankful for small favors when he made his way to his corner office. His rank as lead detective entitled him to his own space, complete with four walls, a locking door, and a small window.

  Once in his inner sanctum, Ben unloaded his hands and slammed the door on the chaos outside. The wheels of his rolling chair squeaked as he sat behind the metal, paper-strewn desk to review his preliminary evidence.

  Smallwood was found in an abandoned warehouse in one of Maplewood’s seedier areas. Although the location of Smallwood’s body didn’t strike Ben as unusual for a murder victim, the manner of death did. Of all the homicide investigations he’d worked, he’d never found a victim with a medical syringe buried in the jugular vein. Even more interesting, the syringe was just that, buried. Expertly placed far enough into the skin so that it had no chance to work itself loose. If the syringe turned out to be the murder weapon, someone knew exactly what they were doing. His best guess was that whatever substance the syringe delivered would have killed him in a matter of seconds.

  He folded his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair, and propped his feet on the desk. Smallwood’s physical appearance was totally unexpected for someone of his position in the community. He poked the side of his cheek with his tongue. Obviously, the victim led an adventurous sexual life. Although kinky, it wasn’t criminal in Pennsylvania.

  He lowered his feet to the floor, braced his elbows on the desk, and glanced out his window as if the winter day might make a suggestion. Was Smallwood’s death a sexual game gone bad? Although evidence might suggest that explanation, he wouldn’t know for sure until he could get a clear cause of death.

  Ben reached for the Red Bull and took a long swallow. Another spin on the situation would be helpful. All he had to do was ask and another detective would be assigned in a matter of minutes. He ran a hand across the top of his head. He didn’t need just any help, he needed the best. Luke Owens.

  He released a heavy sigh. There was just one problem. Owens was no longer a cop. He snorted. Once a cop, always a cop in his book, but the Maplewood Police Department did not agree. According to protocol, Owens wasn’t entitled to a badge, but that didn’t stop the captain from consulting Owens when necessary. In fact, if Owens hadn’t assisted on several other cases, they would have gone cold.

  He picked up the phone and dialed, not surprised by Owens’ greeting.

  “Got your ass in a sling, Ramsey?”

  Ben chuckled. “Not this time. Thought you might have some inside information on Smallwood’s murder.”

  “Inside information. Now how would I have information you don’t?”

  He tapped three fingers against the desktop. “You know as well as I do, it’s only a matter of time before the captain calls you. You have anything on Smallwood?”

  He heard Owens’ muffled voice, but no response. “Owens?”

  A soft female giggle floated through the line.

  “Damn, Owens, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Don’t you keep normal office hours?”

  Arrogance seeped from the phone line as the other man responded. “Don’t have to.”

  “I’ll call back later.”

  “No need. That’s Rosie, my secretary.”

  Ben squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Can you give me anything or not?”

  “Nothing more than you probably already have. Smallwood was a popular guy. Probably shaped over half the bodies in Maplewood. Married to Francine Smallwood for the past fifteen years.”

  “Do you think she knew about his affair?”

  Owens snickered. “Hard to tell. Has the medical examiner determined the time of death?”

  “Approximately four hours before we found him.”

  “So, early Tuesday morning. Four days after the Halloween party. The collar obviously wasn’t just part of a Halloween costume.”

  “No, it looks like he had a hobby.”

  “Any suspects?”

  “I visited his clinic this morning and spoke to his employees.”

  “What did they have to say?”

  “They left him on the phone at five on Monday evening. Both have an alibi.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “They didn’t appear too bothered by the whole thing.” Hell, more like they couldn’t care less. He pulled his notebook from his pocket and flipped it open.

  Allison Campbell. Something about that name tickled his brain. Informant? Maybe. She struck him as the silent, sultry type who used every drop of her sex appeal to her advantage.

  “Does the name Allison Campbell mean anything to you?”

  He heard a distinct thud and then the slam of a door.

  “Allison Campbell?” Owens hissed. “Do you know who she is?”

  “No. I haven’t had time to run a background yet. Who is she?”

  “Allison J. Campbell, daughter of Elena J. Scarletti Campbell, and niece of Anthony Houdini Scarletti.”

  Words escaped him. Houdini Scarletti, the multi-millionaire real estate tycoon with alleged mob connections. “Hell, are you sure?”

  “Positive. I’m looking at her background.”

  Still skeptical, Ben pressed for information. “How come I don’t know the name?”

  “Apparently, she keeps a low profile, independent of her family. Once Scarletti was murdered, she basically faded into the background.”

  Ben paused and shifted his thoughts to the other woman. Lucy Monroe. Warm, personable, apparently forthright with information, yet very nervous. In fact, her constant knee-bouncing had made him seasick. And, she mentioned the need for a lawyer.

  “What about Lucy Monroe?”

  “Clean as a whistle, except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Campbells raised Lucy after her parents were murdered. She’s one of them.”

  Ben tapped Lucy’s name with the end of his pen. She knew something more, he was sure of it. “That’s all you’ve got?”

  “It’s more than you had, Ramsey.”

  Silence fell over the line as Ben considered his next move. Owens could search Smallwood’s clinic in half the time it took to obtain a search warrant, but the search would be deemed illegal. Damn. He really had no other choice but to follow protocol.

  “Thanks, Owens, I’ll be in touch.”

  Ben disconnected and reached for a pile of requisition forms. He cursed again under his breath as he completed the application for a search warrant, sorely tempted to rip it in half and call Owens back. His gut protested his every move and the combination of Red Bull and powdered donuts had nothing to do with it.

  He tossed his pen to the desk and leaned back in his chair. With Allison’s connections, if either of Smallwood’s employees had anything to do with his murder, the chances of finding evidence at the clinic were slim to none.

  Lucy was different. A fleeting sense of innocence had sparkled in her black, bright eyes. Her long, wavy black hair had been piled on top of her head, giving her a definite brainiac look. A far cry from Scarletti influence.

  At first, she acted calm. Controlled. He’d even read physical attraction in the depths of her eyes. But as soon as he mentioned Smallwood’s murder, she turned into an ostrich and buried her head in the sand.

  Maybe she was just in shock. By her own admission, she had worked for Smallwood for an extended period of time. Perhaps she did care for him, as
a friend. Even so, he had no reason to rule her out yet.

  With a heavy sigh, Ben plucked his pen from the desk and leaned back over the application. As soon as his signature was scribbled on the dotted line, he headed for the courthouse to plead his case to a judge.

  ***

  As she and Lucy left the office, Allison turned the key one last time before she tugged on the door to assure it was locked.

  “Do you think the murderer will come to the clinic?” Lucy asked.

  Allison grinned. “Whatever for? Smallwood’s dead.”

  “Maybe there’s something hidden in there he wants.”

  Allison twisted her lips. “Really, Luce, you’ve seen way too many movies.”

  “Going somewhere, ladies?”

  Lucy grabbed Allison’s forearm. Allison turned to see Detective Hot Stuff propped against the rail of the ramp used for wheelchair access.

  “We’re leaving,” she explained. “There’s nothing more we can do without a doctor.”

  He pushed himself off the metal bar and squared his shoulders. “I need to search the office.”

  Allison shrugged. “Okay.”

  “I’d appreciate your cooperation. I’ll need to see his last surgery schedule and his patient charts.”

  Allison shook her head. “Sorry, federal law won’t let us give you that information.” She almost laughed out loud. Since when did she ever worry about the law?

  He handed her a pink piece of paper. “This will give you permission.”

  Allison chuckled as she read. “Uncle Benito has the worst penmanship.”

  His brow furrowed. “Uncle Benito?”

  Allison nodded and thumped the signature on the warrant. “Judge Moretti. He’s my uncle.”

  She chuckled and let her insides do the happy dance. Uncle Benito. Go figure.

  Allison slapped the paper flat against the door. “Pen?” she asked over her shoulder.

  He handed her a pen and she scribbled her signature across the bottom. “You need Lucy’s too?”

  “One signature is sufficient,” he said.

  Allison handed him the warrant and her keys. “Be sure to lock up when you’re done.”

  “Wait,” he demanded, “what about the schedules?”

  “They’re on the computer,” Lucy said as they left him on the doorstep.

  “How am I supposed to find them?”

  Allison gave him a mischievous wink. “You’re the detective. You figure it out.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next afternoon, Allison stood outside the clinic with Lucy and pressed two fingers to her temples.

  “I hate to admit it, Lucy, but that was worse than working with Dr. Smallwood.”

  She and Dr. Winslow had argued the whole day and at one point, she reverted to cursing him in Italian.

  “I think you scared Mrs. Winters.” Lucy took a deep breath as if to cleanse her thoughts also. “She left before her lips were injected and refused to reschedule.”

  “He’s darn lucky I didn’t bound and gag him and then shove him into the supply cabinet.” She flashed Lucy a sly grin. “My record is three minutes.”

  Lucy giggled. “He wants us to page him if we need him.” She snorted. “Like we would actually need him for anything.”

  Allison sighed. “I need a glass of wine.”

  “As soon as we make the deposit, you’re on.”

  A sense of caution niggled Allison as she opened the driver’s side door of her car. “Get in and push the locks.”

  As soon as she sat behind the wheel, Allison glanced in her rearview mirror. Something about the beige, four-door sedan parked across the street wasn’t right. She finally allowed herself to relax.

  “Another tail,” she told Lucy.

  Lucy groaned and scooted lower in her seat.

  With a confident smile, Allison turned the key and steered into traffic. Once she drove onto the expressway, she glanced in her mirror again. Detective Ramsey drove the sedan.

  “It’s Detective-Too-Cool.”

  Allison tapped her french-manicured nails against the steering wheel. Maybe she should call for back-up. No. They could take care of this. As long as Lucy didn’t have a nervous breakdown first.

  Allison eased her way through traffic, careful to use her turn signals and watch her speedometer. No sense giving him a reason to write her a ticket. If detectives did that sort of thing.

  After she made a bank deposit, she had an epiphany.

  “Hey, Luce, why not make this goosechase a wild one?”

  “What exactly do you have in mind?” Lucy mumbled.

  Allison giggled. “Next stop Lilly’s House of Love, connoisseurs of all things naughty.”

  “Oh no, Allison.” Lucy’s eyes widened. “Not with Detective Ramsey following us.”

  “Why not? Maybe you can distract him.”

  “No one knows my guilty pleasure except you and Lilly and that’s the way I want to keep it.”

  “Come on. Nothing like silky, sexy lingerie to keep a man interested.”

  Allison turned into the familiar shopping center, not really giving Lucy a chance to back out.

  “Fine.” Lucy sat up and poked her hair behind her ears. “Just don’t tell him I visited Lilly before Dr. Smallwood met his demise. She was quite helpful.”

  Allison parked and reached for the door handle. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

  A crazy mixture of shock and disbelief pulsed through him as Ben watched Lucy bump her car door closed with one shapely hip and sashay into Lilly’s behind Allison. His audit of Lucy’s credit card account revealed the possibility she shopped here often, but the reality of knowing it to be true knocked him on his ass. He’d been in there a couple of times himself. What exactly did she purchase? Toys? Magazines? He flipped through his case file until he located her account records. Oh, hell. Lingerie.

  Really? He ran a hand across his forehead. An innocent purchase. Lingerie didn’t have any kind of link to Smallwood’s murder. No reason to follow her inside. Then again, nothing like proof. Ben unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the car door, and headed inside the store.

  He winced as the bell jingled over the door to announce his entrance. So much for inconspicuous. Quickly perusing the store, he didn’t see her. Either she was too short for him to see over the aisles, or she was in the other room marked clothing. He zeroed in on the rack closest to the doorway and snickered under his breath. Lack of clothing was more like it.

  “May I help you?” A sultry voice purred beside him.

  Peeling his eyes from the temptations in the next room, he turned to answer. The brunette sexpot who spoke to him batted her eyelashes and gave him a take-me kind of grin. Which he would’ve gladly returned had he not already been distracted. That, and the fact he was tailing a suspect. She was a little leggy for him anyway. But, the tiny, black, tight thing with a mountain of laces to untie she wore made his libido roll over and stick all four paws in the air. Who needed billboards with this kind of advertisement?

  The sound of her clearing her throat brought heat to his cheeks. He quickly redirected his eyes to her face. “No, thanks. I’m just looking.”

  She placed one hand on her bare hip. “Yes you are.” Her tongue darted from the confines of her pouty lips to lick the surface. “You look like you’re into leather. We have a new shipment of leather pants and vests.”

  He forced air into his lungs and concentrated on dissuading her. “I don’t want to be rude, ma’am, but really, I’m not interested.”

  Her brown bedroom eyes sparkled and she smiled with a note of mockery. “Right. My name’s Dee Dee. Let me know if I can help.”

  She gave him a playful wink before she sauntered back to the front of the store. Convinced the coast was clear, he planted himself just outside the clothing room with a perfect view of the dressing area. He glanced at the clothing racks and then back to the mirrored area. Where were the girls?

  A thin blonde stepped from one of the c
ubicles and posed in front of the mirrors. Ben watched helplessly as she adjusted the garter over her right thigh and then plumped her breasts to the top of the white bodysuit that barely restrained them to begin with.

  “Come on out, Lucy Honey, let’s see what we think.”

  He only had milliseconds to prepare before Lucy appeared. Sweat droplets danced on his forehead. The dark green silky little number glued to her perfectly-proportioned body made him tremble. Beautiful did not begin to describe her. Little Miss Pinned-Up, Buttoned-Down Lucy was hot. Scorching hot.

  Lucy batted her long, black eyelashes. “What do you think, Lilly?”

  Ben choked back his own response as Lilly pulled the material over Lucy’s firm, tight ass and then cupped Lucy’s breasts in both hands and shoved them to the top of the green treat.

  “Too much ass, not enough breast.” Lilly handed her something red. “Try this.”

  Lucy shrugged and disappeared back inside the dressing room.

  Ben knew he should leave. Now, before he complicated his investigation any further. He took two steps backwards before Lucy reappeared in a skintight red light special that wrapped her body like a glove. The ratio of ass to breast was perfect. His knees buckled and he propped himself against the nearest rack to look his fill. His cock jumped and screamed as his zipper prevented its release.

  Oh, baby, that’s the one.

  Lilly clapped her hands. “That’s it! I’ll even throw these in.” She tossed Lucy a pair of red hooker heels.

  Lucy bent and buckled each shoe before she tossed a questioning glance at Lilly. “You think?”

  Ben loosened his tie. Hell, yeah.

  Lilly walked a half circle around her. “It’s missing something.”

  Ben bit his tongue to keep from speaking out loud. Pearls.

  “You need some pearls,” Lilly decided.

  Lucy’s eyes sparkled. “I just happen to have some.”

  His erection quivered. Oh, the things they could do with a strand of pearls. With a heavy sigh, he slapped himself out of his lust-induced stupor and reached between his legs to make an adjustment.

  “Like what you see, Detective?”