Still Waters [A Kyra Moray Mystery]

by Deanna Lee

  Kyra laughed as she flipped the cabdriver a fifty credit. “Take her straight home. No detours."

  "Anything you want, Inspector."

  Kyra looked over Glory's face. “Look, you sleep and get this drunk out of your system. No man is worth this sort of mess."

  Glory kissed Kyra gently on her bruise and sighed. “You need a facial. Come by next week, and we'll get you one.” She held on to the door briefly. “Turn on the bots and let them take care of the bruising."

  Kyra shut the door carefully and tapped the roof of the hover-cab. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she focused on the door of Still Waters. It was midnight blue with swirls of other blues in the paint—just like water. The building itself was white brick, and clean. Alex Waters took a great deal of pride in his establishment, and it showed. The neon sign proclaiming Still Waters was bright; she could make out the light blue lettering from her bedroom window.

  When she re-entered the building, Alex was behind the bar. At five-nine, she appreciated a tall man. He was at least six-five. He had milk-chocolate skin, and his hair was cut close to his head. His shoulders were broad. Nicely defined chest muscles rippled under a too tight T-shirt. The man was certainly the best scenery she'd come across in a long time. She slid onto a stool and shrugged out of her jacket. That wasn't something she normally did in public. Her holster and pulse weapon always drew attention she didn't want. Still, she figured the men in the bar were past hitting on her after her display with Jerry.

  Alex set a glass of ice water on a coaster in front of her and then offered her a damp cloth. “For the blood."

  She shook her head and wiped her mouth. “He's been pushing me for months. He's just lucky there were witnesses.” She scrubbed at the back of her hand and dipped the cloth in the ice water to get it wetter. “Sorry about the disturbance. I should have met him at the door. I saw him come in."

  "Then your friend might have been tempted to take him back."

  Kyra jerked and met his gaze. “What?"

  "You let him hit you, Inspector."

  She couldn't deny it.

  "What's Glory's total?"

  "On me.” Alex moved down the bar to pour a drink and settle with several customers before coming back to her. “Don't look at me that way. I run a safe place for women. My man at the door didn't do his job. If he had, Capshaw wouldn't have had a chance to punch you in the face."

  "I'll keep that in mind if I ever have to drown my sorrows."

  Alex shook his head and smiled. “You don't drink."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "A woman like you, who likes to be in charge, wouldn't drown herself in alcohol. You might indulge in a two-pound box of fine Swiss chocolate, but not alcohol. You've also never been here before, and since you live within walking distance, that says a lot."

  "You keep chocolate around for such occasions?"

  Alex laughed. “Tell you what—come back on Friday."

  "Sign out front says you're closed this Friday."

  "Yeah. It's my birthday. The door is invitation-only that night.” He reached out and touched her face. His hand wasn't soft, but firm and work-roughened. “Just how did you get that bruise?"

  "A victim's family member didn't like the news I had to deliver.” She stilled the urge to lean into his hand. Sitting up straighter, she continued. “I'll bring Glory. She might like this place sober, too. She'll need a little fun after this week."

  He took the cloth from her and wiped at her cheek gently. “Your friend has interesting choices in lipstick color."

  "Yeah. She's a rainbow, all right.” Kyra grimaced, remembering the bright blue glitter that had graced Glory's lips.

  He leaned on the bar and looked over her face. “Might like your face if it wasn't such a mess."

  "It's pretty much always a mess,” Kyra admitted. She pulled on her jacket and looked at him.

  "You should have three times the normal on nanobots. Fifty on the civilian end, and a hundred because you're a cop.” Alex dropped his hand and met her gaze. “You have them deactivated."

  "Yes."

  Alex was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Can I ask you a personal question?"

  Kyra grinned and slid off the stool. “Sure. If you're lucky, I won't punch you."

  "I was just wondering—do you date black men?"

  So blunt, Kyra thought. The question wasn't surprising. Despite what many people wanted to believe, racism was alive and well throughout the southern NAU. Interracial relationships were commonplace, of course, but some old-school politicians and religious zealots still considered it immoral. After the second civil war and before the third, the people of North America had been divided along a great many lines, most of them race-related. It had taken them a long time to recover, both socially and technologically.

  "I don't date men based on their ethnic background."

  But, really, what woman could deny a man that looked like him? He was the sort of man a woman could just wrap herself around and feed on for days.

  "What do you base it on?"

  "The size of their cock.” She laughed at his slack-jawed expression. “See you on Friday, Mr. Waters."

  Chapter Two

  "Bitch cop."

  Kyra leaned back in her chair and shared a glance with her partner. “That's the second time in two days I've been called that."

  Phil shrugged and stood away from the wall he'd been leaning on. “Guess that's why I got a whole bunch of condolence cards after I was assigned to be your partner."

  Kyra pressed her lips together to keep from smiling, and turned to the woman. “Mrs. LaRoux, it is very important that you answer our questions."

  "Fucking lying bitch cop."

  Kyra sat back in the chair she'd taken and took a purely selfish moment to glare at Cecilia LaRoux. She regretted not arresting her when she had the chance. “We aren't getting anything.” She stood and turned to Phil. “Go find her doctor, and tell him that when she becomes more lucid, we need to talk to her."

  Cecilia LaRoux grabbed Kyra's arm then, digging her in nails. “My Donna ain't dead. She just can't be."

  Kyra ignored the sting of the nails biting into her skin and put her hand over Cecilia's. “Donna is dead, and I need to find out who killed her."

  "My Donna was kind to everyone she knew. That's why she can't be dead."

  She pried the woman's fingers off her arm and took a step back. “I'll come back when you feel better, Mrs. LaRoux."

  Kyra closed the door carefully and looked down the hall. Phil was in conversation with the doctor and didn't look happy. The air in the hospital was so obsessively clean that she could barely smell her own soap. She hated that crisp non-smell smell. Most people didn't seem to notice it, but it bothered her. Everything should offer some sort of sensory input. Disgruntled, she looked toward the nursing station. A nurse was staring at her.

  "Hi.” Kyra walked over to the desk.

  The nurse blushed and looked down. “Mrs. LaRoux is bad off."

  "Yes.” Kyra nodded.

  "Looks like they are trying to find her a place at St. Martin's."

  Great, an institution. “Did she say anything to you or any of the nurses?"

  "No. She keeps asking when her daughter will be in. We gave up trying to explain..."

  "Yeah.” She understood that well. “Has anyone been to visit her?"

  "Just her stepson, William."

  "Stepson?"

  "Yeah, William LaRoux."

  "Do you have contact information for him?” Kyra pulled out her p-pc and input his name and information as the nurse read it off Cecilia's chart. She glanced toward Phil as he came to a stop beside her. “Hey."

  "Doc says she's loony city."

  "I'm so glad I brought you down here, Phil. Look how you're already using that medical jargon."

  Phil sighed. “You suck."

  "You wish,” Kyra muttered. “Let's go.” She offered the nurse a smile. “Thank you."

  Phil cast
the nurse a glance and trotted along after Kyra. “How come you got the pretty nurse and I got the old doctor?"

  "'Cause your wife made me promise not to let you question women.” Kyra pushed the lobby button for the elevator and looked briefly in his direction. “Donna has a stepbrother."

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "Yeah. The nurse said he's been up to visit the mother. I want him found and brought in for questioning. It's interesting that he hasn't contacted us for information about his sister."

  * * * *

  William LaRoux looked like the average nineteen-year-old kid, with his blond hair shaved close to his head, battered jeans, and a red shirt that bore a standard epithet about society. Kyra supposed she agreed with him. The world did suck. Society in general was nowhere near the utopia most had imagined for the future. Still, with three civil wars behind them and a new ice age sweeping over the continent, the NAU had done pretty well. Now that the technology ban for nonessential avenues had been lifted, their world was changing very rapidly. Survival was no longer the main concern for most.

  "William, why haven't you contacted us concerning the death of your sister?” Kyra asked.

  "Stepsister."

  She nodded and leaned back in her chair as she stared pointedly at him. “Why haven't you called us, William?"

  "I've been busy taking care of Cece. She's in bad shape. I figured you'd contact me with any news."

  "Didn't even know about you,” Kyra murmured. “Cecilia didn't mention you. Donna only had one emergency contact on her employment file. Why didn't she list you?"

  "We didn't get along."

  "Did your father adopt Donna?"

  "Yeah, our parents got married when we were, like, fourteen."

  "Did you know Donna before she and her mother became part of your family?"

  "We went to the same school.” William moved around in his chair and focused on the wall behind Kyra. “Look, Donna was a good girl. She didn't hang out with the wrong kind of people, and got good grades."

  "Did Donna have a boyfriend?"

  "No."

  "Why didn't you get along?"

  "We fought a lot after my dad died. She didn't understand why I moved out and why I stopped coming over."

  "Why did you?"

  "They weren't my family anymore,” William snapped.

  "Nice of you to look after Cecilia, then, considering."

  "It's the decent thing to do. Donna was her whole world."

  "So, William, how long were you and Donna involved?"

  "She was my sister.” His jaw was set firmly, but his eyes were shiny and unfocused. It had been a wild guess, but it had paid off.

  "Your stepsister, as you corrected me just a few minutes ago. Look, William, we've already got evidence that Donna was sexually active. Tell me where you were the night she was killed."

  "I was upstate. I'd gone to see my grandparents."

  "You must have rushed home when Cecilia called."

  "Her doctor called me."

  "You aren't on record for an emergency contact for Cecilia, either."

  "I guess she gave them the number.” He shrugged.

  Kyra stood up and walked away from the table. “Look, kid, I don't think you killed Donna. But I need to verify a few facts before I can move on to other evidence and other suspects.” She leaned against the wall and stared at him hard. “We recovered semen. You were sexually involved with your stepsister."

  William flushed with anger. “They met through us, for fuck's sake. We'd been dating for months. All of a sudden, they say they're getting married and now we're brother and sister. Donna's mother forced her to accept the adoption.” He slumped in the chair, deflated. “We tried to do what they wanted. But we liked each other so much."

  "When did things get sexual?"

  "About two years ago.” William swallowed hard. “But it was consensual. We were going to get married; at least, we were going to try. We didn't know what the adoption would mean ... crap, it was a mess.” William rubbed his face hard and sucked in a breath. “I should have been home. If I'd been home and gone up there to see her on her breaks like I always did ... she wouldn't have been alone."

  Kyra didn't have anything to say about that; she didn't know what circumstances had made Donna a victim. “Donna had bruises on her neck."

  William blushed with discomfort. “Yeah, one of her friends told her that it would be really good if she could get me to sort of choke her while we were having sex."

  "Why weren't you on her emergency contact list?"

  "I don't know."

  "When is the last time you were intimate with Donna?"

  "Like, Saturday.” He shrugged.

  "We'll confirm your alibi with your grandparents."

  "Good. Look, I have nothing to hide. She was everything to me. I'd rather kill myself than hurt her.” William lowered his gaze to the table.

  "We'll need a DNA sample from you so we can eliminate any physical evidence that connects you to her."

  "Yeah.” He looked up to her. “Not a problem."

  "Was Donna angry with you?"

  "We fought occasionally, mostly about Cece and our having to hide our relationship. Donna wanted so much more than anyone else did."

  "More of what?"

  "Everything. I don't think she would've ever been satisfied. There was always some new thing to get or to have."

  * * * *

  Kyra tossed the file on her desk and glared in Phil's general direction. “That's a crappy-ass thing to do to a couple of kids."

  "Love happens.” He shrugged.

  "Love sucks."

  "Yeah, that, too.” Phil stood up and stretched. “What are you after next?"

  "I'm going to go check on Capshaw in lockup."

  He snickered. “I heard he was crying earlier."

  That shouldn't have amused her, but it did. “Figure I'll let him go once the judge has the restraining order in place."

  "No way. He hits a cop, he has to own up to it. The judge will fine him and let him go."

  "I let him hit me."

  "He shouldn't have even tried,” he countered. “It's a mistake he should pay for. Man, where's my bitch-cop partner?"

  "She's tired.” Kyra stretched and motioned him off. “Go."

  * * * *

  She took the elevator down to holding. If she'd taken the stairs, everything would have been all right. The doors opened, and two-hundred-plus pounds of man came barreling in toward her. Since she had nowhere to run, her only choice was to fight. As he entered the elevator, she shoved her foot into his crotch and kneed him in the face when he doubled over. He fell out on his back, groaning and bleeding from the mouth.

  "Who let this asshole loose?"

  "Inspector Moray.” A uniformed officer came running and jerked his charge up off the floor. “My apologies; he got away from us."

  "Get him in leg restraints, Constable,” Kyra called out over her shoulder. She walked to the desk sergeant's station and sighed. “Sergeant Marseau!"

  Portly and sloppily dressed, Sergeant Marseau appeared immediately in the doorway of a break room just off his desk. “Inspector Moray."

  "We've got a prisoner rushing the elevator, and an empty watch desk. You know what that makes me?"

  "Mad,” Sergeant Marseau murmured, miserable.

  "Yeah. Where's my prisoner?"

  "That guy that belted you?” Marseau smirked.

  "Yeah."

  "He's in four."

  Kyra glared at him and then walked toward holding. “Next time I damn near get run over by an out-of-control prisoner, I'm having your badge for breakfast."

  Ignoring a few indecent proposals and assorted kissing noises, she strolled down to holding cell four and looked at Jerry. He was alone in his cell and finishing off what looked to be a steak dinner. “Hello, Jerry."

  Jerry glared at her. “You can't hold me like this."

  "It isn't my fault you can't make bail. The DA should have you up before a judge
tomorrow afternoon. Lucky for you—your record is clean. You'll probably just get a fine."

  "Yeah."

  "You'll leave Glory alone. She had all of your belongings delivered to your mother's house.” Kyra grinned. “She said to tell you that if you weren't there in three days to pick it up, she was going to sell it all online."

  "Glory and me is none of your business."

  "There is no Glory and you. While you're in court tomorrow, a restraining order will be issued, barring you from contacting Glory. You'll pay attention to that restraining order, or things will get very ugly for you. The chief of police takes stalking very seriously."

  "We're getting married,” Jerry snapped.

  Kyra snorted. “Not likely. Do you think Glory's stupid? She's seen you for what you are, and you won't get back in her good graces. Her daddy was the sort of man who would drink too much and then hit his wife. You think Glory's going to let a man in her life who would hit a woman?"

  "You set me up,” Jerry seethed.

  "Glory's trust fund is locked up good and tight, Jerry. Even if you had married her, you wouldn't have seen a cent. She's got half of it invested in her salon, and the rest won't be hers until she's thirty-five.” Kyra tapped the bars gently and then started to walk away from him. “Cute, fun, and innocent ... but she's not stupid."

  "Cunt."

  "Dickless wonder.” Kyra walked away, talking over her shoulder. “Women talk, Jerry. I doubt there's a woman in a forty-mile radius that hasn't been told what a teeny-tiny dick you have."

  "Yo, Inspector Moray."

  Kyra turned and peered into another cell as she reached for the door to leave. “Willie. What'd they get you for?"

  "Drunk and disorderly.” Wilfred Barnes blushed to the roots of the few hairs he had left and leaned back from the bars a little. “Saw something; got good juice to share."

  "Judge seen you yet?"

  "Nah."

  "Did you hurt anybody during your drunk and disorderly?"

  "Nope, just sitting on a park bench minding my own...” He grinned, showing more gum than teeth.

  "I'll be back around for you. Better be really good juice."

  He paused, then frowned. “They say he hit you.” He jerked his head toward Jerry's cell.

  "He hit a cop."