If he understood anything about himself, it was that he’d be bored in about five seconds on a sandy beach somewhere. The death of his parents had given him an urgency to stay busy to maybe just avoid thinking about it even all these years later, but he was settled into the pattern and it felt right. He was capable of making decisions that bordered on reckless, but he really had no regrets.
Mrs. Armistad’s house was a regular suburban ranch style, probably built in the fifties or even earlier, and she had pots of flowers out front already, the blinds firmly closed.
He parked his car and got out, walking up the steps. There were bushes on either side, lilacs starting to leaf out, and they were mature, thick branched and offered some cover this time of year. Someone could certainly use them to hide.
He found a clear footprint of a man’s shoe behind one bush, but it could easily have been of one of the cops, poking around just like he was right now. Still, he took a picture of it with his phone. It wouldn’t hurt to have it. Since there was no clear evidence of a homicide, Metzger seemed to just want him to look into it. He had to admit he didn’t like that the victim’s house—if she was one—was so close to the park where two people had been evidently murdered and dumped.
It wasn’t at all the same method, but it was quite a few bodies in a small area that was relatively quiet and crime-free. Between that and how adamant her family was that something had happened to her that didn’t involve a simple fall, he was interested in the investigation, but not sure it was related to anything else. Until he drove halfway across town to talk to her daughter.
Mrs. Weston informed him that she was talking to her mother on her cell phone when her mother spotted a young man standing with a flower on her front porch.
Middle-aged and teary-eyed, Terry Weston swiped at her eyes with a much-used tissue. “I thought nothing of it. She didn’t seem afraid. She said that to me. She said, ‘How sweet. I know what this is about. How did he find out where I live?’”
A flower?
The flowers on MacIntosh’s desk.
Carl suddenly didn’t like it at all. “You have no idea who he could be?”
“None.” The woman was decisive, but her eyes were still a mirror of misery. “She was suddenly dead on her front porch and there was a flower found next to her. My husband is an attorney who deals with your office often. They ruled it a probable accident on the report, but that man standing there … it is bothering me. My husband suggested we call Chief Metzger. My mother was the kindest woman in the world. I can’t even fathom someone killed her, but I can’t put it out of my mind either that it’s a possibility.”
Neither could he.
He drove home slowly.
Forty-five more minutes would give him time to at least check the bathroom on the main floor. It probably had cobwebs in it since he didn’t use it often or even ever. He knew he had his ghosts. He still remembered when his mother had picked out the wallpaper because she’d dragged him along to the store.
Maybe Georgia Lukens could explain to him why he still climbed the stairs to use the bathroom off the bedroom he’d occupied as a child. But that conversation was for another time, and right now he needed to go set the table.
After he swept out the cobwebs.
* * *
Santiago was always an adventure.
Georgia considered him an interesting patient on any number of levels. He was honest. Most of them weren’t. He wasn’t really into dodging around touchy subjects, so she could ask him direct questions and get direct answers, and that was why he was there.
Good. They understood each other.
He paced instead of sitting in a chair, which was how he dealt with tension. She’d known him for a while now and he was wound up.
“I told her I loved her.”
“Ellie?” Georgia took the low road and pretended surprise. “Do you?”
He rounded on her. “Why would I ever say so if I didn’t? That’s kind of a stupid question.”
She had to stifle a laugh. “It’s been obvious for quite a while how you feel about her. Accept the joke.”
“Oh.” He clearly wasn’t himself. “Oh, right, funny, I’m laughing—not. Ellie now doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“Is there any part of you that hoped she would?”
“What? Yes.” He paused. “Well, maybe no. I have no idea. I’ve never done it before.”
“Done what exactly? Told a woman you love her?”
He said flatly, “Told anyone I love them. Maybe when I was a kid I said it to my mother, but quite frankly, if it happened, I don’t remember it.”
That wouldn’t surprise her at all. “That would be very natural. She betrayed you in your mind, so you don’t care to cherish memories of her. Detective Santiago, let’s face it that you want Ellie to introduce the subject back to you and she hasn’t cooperated. What’s plan B?”
“Okay, I need one, and don’t have it. I feel better just for saying it out loud to her.”
“So, you accomplished what you needed and then it is out of your hands.”
“Not exactly.” He clearly wasn’t happy. “If someone says, ‘I’m in with love you,’ I don’t think the weather forecast should be your next topic of conversation.”
“Have you considered it might have been as much of a major event in her life to hear it as it was in yours for you to say it?”
“Dr. Lukens, I’m just worried about myself at the moment. I’m not whining about it, but I have discovered the hard way that if you don’t handle something on your own, there’s a chance no one else will pick up the slack.”
He had a point. A very good one. She’d been there.
“Okay, let’s look at that angle. I have a question I think you should consider carefully. Which do you think you’d prefer, for her to say she also loves you, or for her to pretend you never said it? I think the answer either way scares you. I believe you chose Kate because you knew it wouldn’t last from what you’ve said to me. When she left you, it didn’t seem like you were devastated. For the first time in your life, you’re worried about being truly hurt if this goes the wrong way, and you aren’t sure what way that is.”
He did sardonic very well. “First time in my life? Like when my mother walked out and left me with a man that wasn’t actually my father when I was just a little kid? We’ve sort of made our peace over it, but forgive isn’t forget, and I’m not going to be able to forget. I kept finding fault with myself, wondering why my dad didn’t like me. Well, duh, I wasn’t his child but he was stuck with me. She had her reasons, but I wasn’t aware of anything except she’d just left me.”
True, true, and true. Georgia could do a lot of things, but change the past wasn’t one of them. Part of her actually admired his stepfather for maybe not doing the best job in the world, but not tossing Jason to the curb. He was abusive and alcoholic, but not all bad. He could have handed him over to the system as revenge against his missing wife. Maybe that would have been better, but maybe not. That would have involved Jason losing both of his parents and his home too.
“You had no control over that. This is different. You have choices now and you made one. Why did you tell Ellie how you feel? What did you hope to accomplish?”
Her patient sank into the chair in front her desk and exhaled. “Jesus, I don’t know. Being in a relationship is like taking a run on Hell’s Highway. This way and you hit fire and brimstone, and the other way you might find deep blue seas but they’re full of man-eating sharks. Have a bunch of fun, jump right in, compadre.”
That was pretty poetic for Santiago. Georgia stifled a smile. “If it makes you feel any better, everyone experiences anxiety when their life might take a drastic turn. You wouldn’t be a normal human being if you didn’t. If you want my insight, and I assume you do because you pay me for it, I’d say it might not hurt for you to sit down and think hard about what you hope happens next. Then you can decide what you’re going to do if it doesn’t happen. This isn’t betray
ing patient confidentiality, but speaking as someone who knows Ellie as a friend, she’ll talk about it when she’s ready but not a minute before. I bet that isn’t new information to you.”
“I’m bugged about those flowers Ellie got.”
He was bugged about a lot of things, but maybe this was the meat of their conversation. Georgia carefully considered her next words. He wasn’t the hardest person to read because he didn’t bother to hide anything, but he was also very smart. “Tell me why.”
“It’s the kind of shit you do to get attention.”
“She told me about them and I put it out there that maybe someone just sent her flowers. We both know you think she’s attractive, so let’s just assume others do as well. Maybe you have some competition.”
“I don’t like the other player. Some stranger paid a woman to go into a grocery store and buy those flowers. Now it looks like it’s possible she’s been killed. It could have been an accidental fall, but there was a flower next to her body.”
Georgia wasn’t enthused about that information at all. “Ellie told me about the tulips. How did you find that out?”
For the first time in their session, Santiago laughed, but it was mirthless. “Detectives are supposed to be able to gather information. That’s what we do. I’d like to think I’m decent at it. I’ve been practicing for a while. Grasso has been assigned her case as a possible homicide. It could have been an accident. If it wasn’t, this is a very dangerous individual. He isn’t convinced it is tied to our case, but it happened right in the area, and we know a man gave the little old lady money to buy flowers just like the ones on Ellie’s desk. That lady is now dead.”
“So she could identify him and he killed her? You’re more than decent at being a detective, by the way. That’s been proven. Now I’m worried about Ellie too.”
“Because of me or him?”
That was an astute question. Santiago had his demons, no doubt about that. But for someone abandoned as a child to the not-so-tender mercies of a man who had never wanted him, he’d been a resilient spirit. Some children learn to repeat the behaviors that shape their upbringing, and some shun them. In his case, he shunned them, and that was a positive.
“Him.” Georgia was firm. “You’ll treat her well if she chooses that direction. I can’t promise you she will, but I trust her instincts.”
“My instincts are that the tulips connected to the dead woman bother me more than the bodies in the park. We took a picture back to the store to the clerk that waited on her. It was Mrs. Armistad.”
“Okay, why did you go to all that trouble?” She truly was curious.
“He doesn’t care about the bodies. The tulips are personal. I really wish he hadn’t done that.”
“We all wish he hadn’t done any of it.”
“You know what I meant. It really bothers me if he’s paying special attention to Ellie.”
She could see it did.
“You love her, so of course.”
“Before now, if you’d have asked me if love came up and bit my ass, I would have said I might not recognize it. Just because I said it doesn’t mean I know it. I thought I had strep throat once. It turns out I was wrong and I was just allergic to some disgusting drink made with peppermint vodka that Kate thought was trendy. I won’t miss the sore throat or the drink either. For that matter, after she left me, you’re right, I figured out I didn’t really miss Kate. I’m still trying to figure out if this is real or not.”
“But you would miss Ellie?”
“Hell yes.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus, don’t say things like that to me. My job is dealing with people who are missed by other people, and not for a good reason.”
Dryly, Georgia said, “I think you truly have been bitten on the ass then, as you so eloquently put it.”
“It has been pointed out to me I have a way with words. This nut job has me on edge, and I’m not all that relaxed on a calm day. Anyone who asks a nice little old lady to buy flowers for them and then in turn goes and kills her has a calculating mind.”
In her professional opinion Jason had about a dozen reasons to have chronic edginess that held all kinds of labels, but in truth, she thought he handled life better than he thought he did. His childhood might not have been riding his tricycle down a sunny sidewalk, but he’d developed some serious coping skills because of it. Like most things, she’d discovered in the course of her career, not all good, but not all bad either. In her estimation, her needier patients talked about problems that someone like Jason Santiago wouldn’t even notice.
“I agree. So what are you going to do now?”
He didn’t hesitate, which didn’t surprise her. “Catch him.”
Chapter 7
It wasn’t like he didn’t understand the dynamics.
For some reason, he didn’t feel bad. He should, but he didn’t. He wondered why, but then again, maybe people were just who they were. Some women who were pretty knew it, and some were maybe aware but not all that into the attention.
Detective MacIntosh was probably in the latter category. Not standoffish, but not receptive either. She might solve crimes, but she wasn’t exactly perceptive on a personal basis.
She had no idea who or what he was.
Soon she would take notice.
* * *
Carl answered the door to an elegant frothy skirt and a silky blouse. Very eye-catching. The dark-haired woman wearing them wasn’t bad either.
Georgia looked around the foyer with interest, and he had the feeling that inviting her to his home was a test drive for both of them. It was definitely dated, and he knew it, not to mention the peek into his personal life, but he could maybe use some constructive criticism. He led her into the kitchen. “I opened us some wine. No, I haven’t changed a thing in this house for years. I realize I should, but am just not motivated to do it since I’m the only who lives here and it is comfortable enough. White or red?”
“There’s no need to be defensive, since I’m not here to analyze you. Red?”
“I hope you like merlot.”
“I do.” Georgia settled into a chair at the antique table and crossed those legs he admired so much.
He took out the really nice crystal glasses. The ones his mother had inherited. They were so old he couldn’t remember the century. At this point he figured that if one got broken, who cared? The child of parents who died unexpectedly, he wasn’t concerned with passing on possessions. Life was short. Make yourself comfortable and forget the rest.
Georgia didn’t seem to agree. Her eyes widened as he poured and went over to hand the glass to her. “Can you give me something else to drink out of please? These must be worth a small fortune. They are gorgeous. Where did you get these?”
“I inherited them. I think my mother said she inherited from a relative who mentioned Saxony, which to my knowledge no longer exists under that name.”
She looked doubly alarmed.
He said calmly, “They were made to be used. Hence the term ‘wineglass.’”
“If I accidentally broke one—”
“I’d forgive you on the spot and get out another one.”
She went ahead and took a sip and then studied the etched glass. “Do you ever sit and wonder who has touched these?”
“I try to not think about them, quite honestly.”
“I don’t understand people like you and Santiago.”
He about choked on his first drink of wine. “Oh, I’m dying to hear in what way the two of us are alike. I’d have made book on the fact that the two of us are pretty different. And excuse me, but I thought your profession was to understand people.”
That statement made her laugh before she corrected him. “That’s not accurate. My profession is to help people understand themselves. I have patients who have no idea why they do some of the things they do. Why they are unfaithful yet in a happy marriage. Why they shoplift and have the money to buy the item. Why they hate talking to their mother on the ph
one but panic if she doesn’t call every day. The list goes on.”
“I can only imagine. At least my job is just to find out who did it. Motive is not as important as most people think it is in an investigation. Opportunity is first and foremost. Who could do it and get away with it. Why someone would want to do it is more your field.”
“I’m actually learning a lot about your profession. What I meant is you and Santiago certainly come from different backgrounds, but you’re both actually quite sensitive. Yet you chose a job that would normally be considered difficult to handle on an emotional level. But you manage it. Why this path?”
Carl couldn’t help it, he leaned on the counter and lifted his brows. “You think Santiago is sensitive?”
She didn’t flinch. “I really do. Don’t worry, he wouldn’t believe me either. But don’t avoid my question. This isn’t an interrogation, so if you say you have no idea, I will let it go. I’m just curious.”
“I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Now see, right there, you are like Jason Santiago. He doesn’t like to think about it either.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“No, but let’s be honest, maybe what you meant?”
He liked her straightforward approach right along with admiring the way her hair caught the light. “I’ll concede that, I suppose. I do it because I dislike man’s inhumanity to man. A person’s life has value. If I look at it that way, I think I see the similarity to Santiago. My impression is that he grew up having to fight for a sense of self-worth because he was pretty much on his own. My situation is different in that suddenly my security was also wrenched from me. I was on my own too.”
Georgia nodded. “Very insightful, Detective. What else?”
“We don’t like bad guys.”
“I get that. Succinct and to the point. I think neither of you do. Ellie MacIntosh can be thrown into that mix as well.”
Two could play this game, of course. There was a reason that was a saying. “Tell me about Georgia Lukens. Why does she do what she does?”
Crushed Page 6