Violets Are Blue

by Velvet Vaughn

  She didn’t let him finish. "I’ve been tutoring him twice a week. He trusts me. Please, let me come with you so that he isn’t scared. I promise whatever is said will remain with me. I would never do anything to jeopardize the investigation."

  Jake sighed. She was tutoring the janitor. More withheld info. He’d take out his gun and shoot off his tongue before he pointed that out to her again. He should tell her no. Anyone else, he would without a bit of guilt. But her big purple eyes did him in. He could no more deny her than he could order snow to stop falling…and, damn, he wished he could do that.

  He exhaled sharply. "No interfering. No getting mad at questions I ask. No repeating anything you hear—"

  "Thank you, thank you. This means so much to me."

  She shocked them both by lunging across the seat, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

  #

  Startled at her boldness, Violet gasped and tried to pull away but not before Jake clamped one hand behind her head and anchored her in place. What started out as a quick, friendly peck became a fierce, hot caress. His lips glided across hers, gently at first and then harder, more determined. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and when she moaned, he took advantage and plunged inside.

  Violet instinctively stiffened and tried to break free but Jake’s other hand grasped her head, tilting it the right angle for his explorations. Her hands gripped his jacket, whether to push him away or pull him closer, she would never know.

  Jake released her and eased away. She sat unmoving, both shocked and excited. Crimson stained her cheeks as she ran her fingers over her lips. "I-I’m sorry," she stammered. "I don’t know what got into me."

  "Don’t apologize," he said with a husky voice. "I’m as much to blame, and there's nothing to be sorry about." He reached over and brushed a stray tendril from her face, letting his knuckle graze her cheek. She closed her eyes at the contact. When he drew his hand away, she gathered herself and refastened her belt. Jake cranked the engine. "Since you seem to know so much about Perez, what time will he be home tomorrow?"

  "Late afternoon," she readily responded.

  "Here’s how it’s going to work," he informed her. "You will keep quiet and let me do the talking. No interfering."

  She started to speak but he cut her off.

  "I’ll pick you up at five and after we question him, we will go grab something to eat."

  Violet worried her bottom lip. She wanted more than anything to say yes. But he frightened her…or more precisely, her reaction to him frightened her.

  "You have to eat. I have to eat. You would be doing me a favor, saving me from another night of take-out."

  "I guess since you're letting me go with you to question Carlos, it’s the least I can do."

  "I’m not blackmailing you, Violet," he said gently. "You can say no to dinner and still come along to question Carlos."

  "Then okay, I’d love to have dinner with you."

  #

  Forty-five minutes later, Jake stood next to Turner before a mob of reporters, vowing to catch the maniac terrorizing the Lawrence Monroe campus. The Burlington Butcher.

  Oh yeah, Olivia Larrson’s moniker had caught on like gangbusters.

  Turner’s boss was getting heat from the mayor, who wanted this case solved yesterday. Consequently, the boss cranked the heat on Turner. They wouldn’t be getting sleep for a while.

  Dozens of cameras rolled as reporters fired questions, most of which they answered with a terse "No comment." Even CNN had a crew on hand. He hated dealing with the media but they served a purpose. If word got out, women would be more careful. Maybe they would think twice before going out alone or opening their doors to strangers. If even one woman was saved, then it was worth the ordeal of being grilled by Nancy Grace wannabe’s.

  As Turner answered one determined reporter’s endless questions, Jake’s mind drifted back to that kiss. What the hell was he doing? He wanted to believe that his motives were strictly professional. By keeping close to Violet, he could protect her if the maniac came looking for her.

  He had a feeling he’d want to be with her whether the killer recognized her or not.

  He knew not to mix business with pleasure. He never did that. So why the hell was he doing it now?

  CHAPTER 9

  January 10

  "You want to direct me to Carlos’ house?"

  Violet guided Jake through the freshly plowed roads and indicated a parking space in front of a dilapidated structure in a rundown section of town. It wasn't much more than a shack, really. She felt the same twinge of sadness she did every time she visited. She wanted better for Carlos. She knew in her heart he wasn’t the killer.

  "Remember our deal," Jake reminded as he jumped out of the car. Violet quickly scrambled after him before he could come around and open her door. She put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Thank you again for letting me tag along. I appreciate it."

  "Yeah, well, Carlos is a lucky man to have a friend like you. I hope he deserves your loyalty."

  They navigated the uneven sidewalk and Jake guided her around planks of rotting wood on the porch. He rapped on the door. No answer. Knocking louder, he called out, "Perez, FBI, open the door."

  "I thought you weren't with the FBI anymore."

  Jake shot her a look of annoyance and then shrugged. "It gets me in the door."

  A low voice peppered with a Spanish accent called out, "What you want?"

  Jake started to speak but Violet wiggled out from behind him. "Carlos, it’s me, Violet. You've done nothing wrong. Mr. Kincaid would like to ask a few questions, that’s all." She purposefully ignored the low rumble beside her.

  "Violet?" Carlos flung open the door. "Why you are here? You are okay? What is wrong?"

  Dragging his narrowed gaze from Violet, Jake announced, "Jake Kincaid. I'm working with the FBI. I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding the recent string of murders of Lawrence Monroe students."

  Carlos’s eyes widened and he backed up, waving his hands in front of his body, his head flinging from side to side. "No, no, I do not know nothing."

  Violet stepped forward. "Carlos, I’ve already assured Mr. Kincaid that you're innocent." She peeked at Jake and quickly looked away from his ominous glare. She did promise to stay out of the investigation. Oh well, too late to stop now. "He'll just ask a few questions and then you'll be cleared." Violet kept her eyes locked on Carlos, trying desperately to disregard the heavy throat-clearing behind her.

  Carlos nodded uneasily and held the door open. Jake followed her into the small, dark house. The dwelling was about the size of a studio apartment, one large room that served as a dining room, living room and bedroom all in one. An efficient galley kitchen with a bay window stuffed with thriving plants sat off to one side, next to a door that opened to a tiny bathroom. The sparse furniture was decades outdated and the walls of the old building were sloped and water stained. But Carlos kept the room sparkling clean. Not one item was out of place—not one dish on the counter or sock on the floor. He had a shrine to the Virgin Mary along one wall complete with candles and rosary beads.

  "Please, sit." Carlos ushered them to the small futon with a black cushion that no doubt served as couch and bed. "Would you like something to drink?"

  "No, thank you."

  "I’d love some iced tea." They spoke simultaneously and Violet flashed Jake a saccharine sweet smile. Carlos was barely across the room when Jake shot to his feet and loomed over her.

  "What the hell are you doing telling him he will be cleared and I’ll only ask a few questions?" he hissed. He should really unclench that jaw, she thought. It would be a shame to crack one of those perfect teeth. "We had a deal with me letting you come along, remember?"

  Yes, she did remember and she really should feel bad about that, but she couldn’t. Carlos was not guilty. Period. Before she could reply Carlos returned and handed her a glass of tea, and then parked in a stiff back chair, next to a small, thirteen-inch televi
sion.

  Jake fired the first question. "I suppose you know about the murders of three students from the university?" Not really a question as much as a statement.

  "Si, I have heard. But I thought only dos," he replied, lapsing into his native language as he held up two fingers.

  "The third took place two nights ago. A woman was murdered in the College of Arts and Sciences building in the janitorial supply closet. Your janitorial supply closet."

  #

  "Mary, Jesus and Joseph," Carlos whispered and quickly made the sign of the cross. "I did not know."

  "Violet found the body," Jake added.

  Carlos flew out of his seat to crouch next to Violet. "Ms. Violet, are you okay?"

  Jake would have thought his concern sounded genuine if he hadn’t been more than a little certain this man could be behind the attacks. That thought made his voice come out harsh. "Do you have an alibi for Thursday night, Perez?" Carlos stiffened and slowly rose to his feet.

  "Jake," Violet chided, sounding like a schoolteacher talking to a petulant child. "I’m sure he has an alibi. You don’t have to ask so meanly."

  "Are you kid…." Jake gawked at her and realized, no, she wasn’t kidding. He rolled his eyes skyward. She was seriously starting to get on his nerves, especially when she turned back to Carlos and asked in a caring, concerned voice, "How was your trip to Montpelier?"

  The janitor smiled genuinely at her. "Good, Ms. Violet. Thank you for your help."

  "Oh, I’m glad," she said happily.

  Jake was quickly losing control of this interview. "Mr. Perez, where are your keys to the storage closet?"

  The man stood and peered nervously at his hands. "I-I was afraid. I, how you say, misplaced my keys."

  "Why didn’t you report them missing?" Jake inquired, suspicion clear in his voice.

  "Because is second time and I would be fired if the dean found out."

  "What happened the first time?" It was possible, maybe, that someone had swiped his keys and made copies.

  "I usually first to arrive in de mornings. I make rounds, unlocking doors. I leave keys attached to my jacket like always while I gathered things for the day. I put jacket over my cart, my back turned for one minute and de next thing I knew, dey were ido." He snapped his fingers. "Gone. I look everywhere."

  "Did you report them missing?"

  "Si, I did. I wait for dean to arrive and talk to him. I was put on notice and he told me all locks in department have to be re-keyed. De cost come out of Carlos’ paycheck. As soon as all locks changed, de keys," he made a poof sound, "suddenly back on my jacket."

  "So you thought he would fire you this time?" Violet’s concern grated on Jake like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  "Si. It was time for me to go home. I leave keys in door of supply room as I put equipment away. My back turned, but I hear the door slam," he clapped his hands together, "shut. By time I get to it and open it, the keys, they were gone. I heard footsteps," he mimicked running with his index and middle finger, "down hall. I tried to chase but saw no one."

  Nice touch, Jake thought. First, cast doubt about your keys, then add the old phantom footsteps. He wasn’t buying this. He glanced at Violet out of the corner of his eye and saw that she most definitely was. Her expression was all soft and her brow creased with worry. For Carlos. Sheesh. Women. "Convenient," Jake muttered under his breath. Violet elbowed him in the ribs and then smiled at Carlos.

  "So you just left work, knowing they were missing?" Jake asked gruffly, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice, annoyance at Violet and her feelings for this little con man.

  "Si. I came home and tried to decide what to do."

  "So instead of notifying anyone that the keys were gone and the potential of someone being able to get into all the rooms and steal or whatever, you came home and what? What did you do that night, Perez? Go back to the university and take out your frustrations on a young woman in that same utility room?"

  "No!"

  "Jake!"

  Jake gritted his teeth and glared at Violet. "Ms. Anastasia, if you do not refrain from interrupting, I am either going to haul your ass out of here or have you arrested."

  Violet lurched backward, her mouth gaping. Her shock morphed into anger. She glared at him, her luscious red lips pursed into a white line, her arms crossed mutinously over her chest.

  Jake took that as her acquiescence. He turned to look at the horrified expression on Carlos’s face. The man was making repeated signs of the cross. "The Almighty can’t be your alibi, so unless you come up with a good one, I’m going to have to cart you down to the station."

  Violet started to protest but one look at the glower he shot her and her mouth snapped shut.

  "Good girl," he praised under his breath.

  "Ogre," she hissed under hers.

  Jake ignored her. "Perez? An alibi?"

  "I here, in my house all night studying," his voice was so low, both Jake and Violet leaned forward to hear.

  "Did anyone see you? Can anyone corroborate your story?"

  "No." Barely more than a whisper.

  Suddenly Jake felt like the ogre Violet accused him of being for badgering the guy. If he were to be completely truthful with himself, he might admit that he found it hard to believe that this meek, meager little hombre could be a cold-blooded serial killer. Maybe his gruffness stemmed more from the way Violet tried to protect him than Jake’s belief that he was guilty.

  Jake prided himself on his usually dead-on sixth sense. His hunches were rarely mistaken. While he could be wrong about this man’s guilt, Perez withheld information. Jake felt it in his bones.

  "Do you have an alibi for the nights of the other murders?"

  "I-I usually home at nights, study."

  "I know Violet tutors you twice a week. Was she at your house either of the nights when an attack occurred?"

  Jake barely heard the whispered "No" coming from beside him. He chanced a look at Violet and saw the despair in her face. She truly wanted to believe—wanted him to believe—that her friend was innocent.

  Across the room, Carlos echoed her response. "I do not know exactly what I did dose earlier nights, or who see me, but I know for certain Violet was not here because I worry. I hear about each murder," he made another sign of the cross, "and rush to make sure she is okay. She is the only friend I have here."

  Jake’s heart twisted a little when he heard the tortured moan coming from beside him. Violet truly believed in him. Dammit, she took the fun out of playing bad cop. "Perez, did you know any of the victims?"

  "No. I may see them in the halls, but students, dey never have time for a janitor. Only Ms. Violet. Only she asks Carlos how he is or if he have a good day. No one else."

  Well, hell. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

  Carlos shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Dere is something," he offered. "I did not tell the dean, or anyone. Everyone already thinks Carlos is loco," he made the universal signal for crazy, his index finger circling next to his temple, "for misplacing his keys and den finding them in de same place." He met Jake’s gaze. "Items are missing from de shelves. I inventory once a week and if professors take anything, they sign for it. No one signed for these."

  "What were they?"

  "Latex gloves, rolls of, how you say, duct tape, and," Carlos cleared his throat and averted his gaze, "prophylactics."

  "Condoms?"

  He nodded sheepishly. "There are machines in de restrooms…I keep them stocked."

  Jake narrowed his eyes, trying to determine if the man was lying or not. If someone, most likely the killer, stole his keys and made copies, the items missing could all have been used in the murders. "Do you know the brand name?" Carlos gave him the information and he jotted it down. He made a note to check if they matched the spermicide found on all three victims. Jake flipped the cover closed on his notebook and stood. Instinctively he reached down and helped Violet up with a hand under her elbow.

  Across the ro
om, Carlos vaulted to his feet. "Are you taking Carlos to jail now?" Fear, stark and glittering, filled his eyes. Jake remembered what Violet had told him about his past, how he'd spent six months in a remote prison. Hell, the jail Jake would take him to wouldn't be the Hilton, but it would seem so after spending time in a Colombian hell.

  Jake could feel anxiety pouring off Violet as she waited for his response. He glanced between the twitching Carlos and the pleading Violet. "No, I’m not taking you to jail." The dual exhales of breath were almost enough to blow the battered wooden door open. "As long as you are willing to voluntarily submit your fingerprints." He pulled his smart phone.

  "Si, I will," Carlos readily agreed. After Jake had all the prints he needed, he added, "Don’t leave town. We may need you for more questioning."

  "I will not. Gracias."

  Jake nodded and settled his hand on Violet’s lower back to guide her to the door. He flinched at the look on her face, her megawatt smile trained on him. As soon as they stepped on the rickety porch, she flipped up the collar of her coat to ward off the chill. Jake had to clasp his hands together behind his back, his right hand keeping the left from throwing itself across her shoulders and pulling her close. Violet beat him to it. She burrowed under his arm and snuggled to his side.

  "Thank you for not arresting him. I told you he wasn’t guilty."

  Irritated at the feeling of happiness that washed over him at her embrace, Jake replied gruffly, "Yeah, well, that has yet to be proven." His left arm told the right one to go to hell and draped over her shoulder, gathering her against him.

  "You don’t think he is guilty either, I can tell." She looked up at him with a blissful smile. Then, almost if realizing what she had done, she stiffened and stopped dead in her tracks, causing him to stop as well.

  "I-I’m sorry." She lurched away and fumbled with her coat. "I never do that," she added under her breath.

  Jake’s right arm laughed at the left one as it dropped helplessly to his side. "Hey, no sweat." As much as she pissed him off a few minutes ago, it suddenly became important that she not try to back out of dinner. "Look, I have to get to the station and fill Turner in on the questioning. I’ll pick you up in an hour." His heart skipped a beat when she paused.