by Jennie Marts
“What? Arrest me? But I didn’t do anything. I’m the victim here.”
“That’s what they all say. And I’d wager that the dead guy in your living room thinks he’s the real victim.”
“Well, he doesn’t really think anything anymore.” She hadn’t even considered that she’d be regarded as a suspect. “Hold on, Gram.”
She covered the phone with her hand and turned to Mac. “My grandma thinks that the police are going to consider me a suspect in the case, and she wants to bring me a lawyer. Do you think I need legal representation?”
Mac shrugged as he turned the corner and headed into downtown Denver. “I hate it when I have to admit this, but Edna might be right on this one. The victim is in your apartment, and there are obvious signs of a struggle. Your front door was broken down in the middle of the night. It’s easy to suspect that you shot an intruder that broke into your home.”
Probably best not to repeat her claim of being the victim. “So, you think I do need a lawyer?”
“I don’t think it would hurt. It’s better to be prepared.”
She uncovered the phone. “All right, Gram. Mac agrees with you.”
“Of course he does. We’ve worked together on several cases. It’s like we’re practically partners, and they say partners start to think alike.”
Edna had offered her advice to Mac during previous investigations that summer. Advice that was often culled from the latest mystery or crime show she’d seen on television. Zoey wasn’t sure that actually made Edna Mac’s partner but it didn’t pay to argue with her grandmother when she had her mind set.
“Okay, I guess. I’ll text you the address of the police station, and please tell Maggie thanks. I’ll see you in a little bit.” She hung up the phone and glanced at Mac. “Your “partner” is evidently now on the case.”
He groaned. “At what point did Edna Collins become my new partner?”
“She said now that you’re practically partners, you tend to think alike.”
“I don’t think she’s thinking the same thing that I am right now.”
Zoey laughed. “She already called Maggie, and they’re going to meet us at the police station.”
“Good. Maggie’s smart. She’ll be able to help if you need her.”
Maggie was smart. And beautiful. Not just beautiful, but knock-out gorgeous. Tall and slender, with long dark hair that turned heads whenever she walked into a room. Including Mac’s.
He’d been interested in Maggie earlier that summer. How deep that attraction went, Zoey wasn’t sure. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.
Just leave it alone. There was no reason to even ask about it. “So, did you and Maggie have like, a thing, earlier this summer?”
Nice. Subtle. She wanted to grab the question back out of the air.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘thing.’ There was a little interest, but it never went anywhere, and now we’re just friends. Would it bother you if we’d had a ‘thing?’” He gave her a sideways glance, and the corner of his mouth tipped up in a grin.
Did he think she was jealous?
Was she jealous?
She got a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought of Mac being interested in anyone else. And Maggie was so gorgeous.
“I’ve certainly had ‘things’ with other men before.” Not a lot of ‘things,’ and certainly never with men like Mac. But she’d had ‘things.’
She usually dated men in the corporate world. Men who sat at desks and got their shirts dry-cleaned. Men who fit into her controlled world of structure and organization. Not men who had crazy muscled biceps or wore a gun holstered to their shoulder.
And she hadn’t had a ‘thing’ in a while. Quite a while actually. She’d been focused on her career and trying to get a promotion. She had plans and an outline for her life. Uncovering a money-laundering scheme and getting fired hadn’t fit in to those plans.
And neither did a tall policeman who worked odd hours and probably didn’t care about eating at six on the dot every night. She’d wager he even had a tattoo. And he’d had the interest of a woman like Maggie. “I wouldn’t say it bothers me. It’s just that Maggie is so beautiful. It’s hard to compete with her.”
Mac pulled into the lot of the police station and parked the car. He turned to Zoey. “You don’t have to compete with her. In my book, there is no comparison.”
Hmmm. Did that mean she didn’t even compare to Maggie? Or did he think Maggie didn’t even compare to her?
“Besides, I’ve always preferred blondes.” He gave her a devilish wink before stepping out of the car.
Her stomach did a funny little flip as she watched him walk around the front of the car and open her door. Even in gym shorts and a T-shirt, he still walked and moved with authority. And he opened her door for her. An officer and a gentleman.
And he’d said he preferred blondes. He was flirting with her. Even while they were talking about Maggie. That was a good sign.
“You ready for this?” Mac’s eyes darkened as he looked toward the busy police station. “I don’t know how rough they’re going to be on you in there. It’s a little different than the laid back station in Pleasant Valley.”
She took a deep breath, the flirtatious flutterings in her stomach replaced with nervous jitterings. “I’m good. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Cuddling the dog close to her chest, she grabbed her backpack and stepped onto the sidewalk.
“That’s what they all say.” He set his hand on her back and guided her into the noisy station.
Chapter Four
Drawing strength from his warm hand pressed against her back, Zoey let Mac guide her through the door of the police station.
The stale smell of body odor and marijuana hung in the air, and a low hum of activity interspersed with bursts of noise filled her ears.
A long hallway lined with chairs led to a glass-enclosed check-in desk. The majority of the chairs were filled. It was a melting pot of races and ages, some people sitting anxiously on the edges of their seats and others slumped in their chairs, either asleep or passed out.
Mac directed her to a chair next to an elderly woman. “Have a seat. I’ll let them know you’re here.”
Zoey eased onto the plastic chair, hesitant to touch the arm rests. Did she have time to dig her antibacterial gel out of her bag? She glanced over at Mac as he waited in line to get her checked in.
Oh yeah. It would seem she was going to have plenty of time. She could probably sanitize her hands and the whole chair before Mac would even get to the front of the line. Who knew the police station would be that busy before the rays of the sun had even lit the morning sky?
She dug through her pack and found a tube of antibacterial gel. The scent of plumeria filled the air as she rubbed the gel on her hands. She offered the tube to the woman sitting beside her.
The elderly woman held out her hand, and Zoey squeezed a dab onto her wrinkled hand. “Thank you. It smells nice. But I think you’re gonna need a bigger bottle if you want to kill all the germs in this place.”
She laughed softly. “Yes, you’re probably right.” She tucked the tube back into her pack.
The woman held out her hand for Bruiser to give it a sniff. The dog’s little pink tongue darted out and licked the woman’s hand. She laughed. “She’s a cutie. But I’m not sure you’re allowed to have dogs in here.”
Zoey smiled. “She’s my therapy dog.” Okay that was a lie, but she certainly felt that petting this cuddly dog was offering some therapy after such a stressful night. Best to change the subject and get the attention off of Bruiser. “Are you waiting for someone?”
The woman nodded, her lips forming a disapproving purse. “My grandson. Called me at two AM to come down and bail his butt out of jail. His momma’s addicted to meth and his daddy’s in prison, and I swear that boy is doing his dangdest to follow in his father’s footsteps. He moved in with me earlier this year, and I’m pretty sure taking care of that boy i
s going to kill me. I’ll be surprised if my old heart lasts through Christmas.”
“Sorry.” What else could she say? She offered her an encouraging smile. “He’s lucky to have someone that cares enough about him to come down to the police station in the middle of the night to bail him out. And I have a feeling you’re tougher than you look.”
The woman offered her a wry grin. “Probably. They say the Lord doesn’t give you more than you can handle, but my grandson may prove that theory wrong.” She gave Zoey a once-over. “What are you here for? You don’t look old enough to have kids in trouble and even in workout clothes, you’re dressed better than most of the hookers in here.”
“Thanks. I think. I mean—er—the police found a dead guy in my apartment tonight.”
“Was it your husband?”
Zoey thought of the older guy laying in her apartment, with his paunchy stomach and wrinkled pale skin. “Ew. No. I don’t even know him.”
“Did you kill him?”
“What? No, of course not.”
The older woman shrugged. “That’s what they all say.”
She wished people would quit telling her that. It was not helping her confidence.
Twenty minutes later, Mac dropped onto the seat next to her. “Geez, this place is a madhouse. But, they’re finding one of the detectives working the case and setting up an interrogation room. They’ll call you when they’re ready.”
“Interrogation? What are they interrogating me for? I didn’t do anything. I’m the victim.”
The woman next to her gave a soft ‘mmm-hmmm’ sound.
Zoey turned toward her. “Not helping.” She turned back to Mac. “Do you think I’m really in trouble here?”
Before he could answer, the door to the police station opened, and Edna burst in. Her arms were filled with a large box of donuts, and she had a huge tote bag thrown over her shoulder. Her eyes lit on her granddaughter, and she made a beeline to where they sat. “Zoey, there you are. Now don’t you worry about a thing. I’m here, and I brought donuts.”
“If I didn’t think you were in trouble before, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be now,” Mac said, not quite under his breath. He stood up to offer Edna his chair. “Hello, Mrs. Collins. Thanks for coming down.”
She wrapped an arm around Mac’s waist and gave him a quick squeeze. “Of course I came down. Zoey’s my granddaughter. And you know you can always count on me when you need a little help.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say I needed your help.”
She waved away his comment. “Of course not. You didn’t have to.” She held up the box in her hands before he could reply. “And I brought donuts. I know how you cops like your donuts.”
Mac rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. You do know a lot about cops.”
Zoey smiled at the way Mac dealt with her grandmother. She’d seen that he had a gruff side. That he could be tough and all business when he needed to be. Even though she could tell Edna frustrated him, she liked the way his gruff demeanor softened when he was around her grandmother.
Edna bent down and gave Zoey a quick squeeze before she sank into the chair. She smelled like gardenias and maple frosting. She rubbed Bruiser’s fuzzy head. “Who’s this little guy?”
“It’s actually a girl. Although her name is Bruiser. She’s Teddy’s dog. We found her at his house, and I couldn’t bear to leave her there—in case—you know—he doesn’t come back.”
Edna nodded. “Any word from him?”
Zoey shook her head.
“While I was waiting in line, I called up to my dispatcher to have her call around to the local hospitals to see if they’d had any stabbing victims admitted last night or this morning,” Mac said. “But so far she’s had no luck.”
Zoey smiled up at him. “Thanks for trying.” She peered down the hallway and turned back to Edna. “I thought you were bringing Maggie.”
“I did. She’s parking the car.”
The doors of the police station opened again, and Maggie Hayes entered the building. Every head in the room turned toward her.
Even the dog looked up.
Little traitor.
Maggie wore a dark gray pencil skirt with a matching jacket over a white button-up blouse. Her long legs were muscled and tan, and the expensive high heels she wore put her over six feet tall. Her long dark hair was loose and fell over her shoulders.
Ignoring the catcalls of a thug handcuffed to a chair, she walked with purpose and authority, a grim look on her face.
She nodded at Mac as she approached them. “Hey, Mac. How’re you doing?”
“I’m good. Thanks for coming down. I’m not sure how much Zoey’s going to need you, but it’s good for you to be here, just in case.” He turned his eyes back to Zoey and gave her a smile of encouragement.
Zoey liked that he talked to Maggie, then turned back to her. He wasn’t acting awestruck by Maggie’s beauty or unable to tear his eyes away from her.
Why was she worrying about Mac’s reaction to Maggie now? She needed to be focused on her own situation and how she was going to convince the detective that she had nothing to do with the dead body they found in her living room.
She stood and gave Maggie a hug, squishing the little poodle between them. “Thanks so much for coming. I really appreciate this.” She held up the dog. “She belongs to my friend Teddy. I’m keeping her until we find him.”
Zoey had known Maggie for years through the book club and had always admired her. Maggie was clever and smart and had a wry sense of humor. She was tough in the courtroom and didn’t put up with bullshit.
Putting aside her earlier worries over a mild ‘thing’ with Mac, Zoey couldn’t be happier to see her grandmother’s friend. Maggie was exactly what she needed.
Maggie hugged her back, then petted the poodle’s head. “Of course. We would have been here sooner if Edna hadn’t insisted we stop for donuts.”
“Hey,” Edna said. “I plan on using them for leverage. Cops love donuts. We’ll use them to soften ‘em up before they start their interrogation.”
Maggie arched an eyebrow. “I am not using donuts to bribe the investigating detective. Most cops think that donut stereotype is insulting anyway.”
“Insulting? Oh, that’s just silly. Everyone loves donuts.”
“I love donuts,” said the elderly woman who’d been talking to Zoey earlier.
Edna stuck her tongue out at Maggie. “See.” She turned and offered a donut to the woman.
“Zoey Allen.” The woman at the front desk yelled her name and motioned to the door next to the counter. “They’re ready for you.”
Zoey and Edna both stood up.
Maggie gave Edna an exasperated look. “Edna, you can’t come in with us. This isn’t like the doctor’s office. They don’t let your grandma come in to the interrogation room with you.”
Edna huffed. “Well, that’s just rude.” She held out the box. “Do you at least want to take the donuts?”
“No.”
“Watch out for that old ‘good cop/bad cop’ routine. Don’t let them pull that one over on you.”
“I’ve done this before.” Maggie pointed to the chair. “Now sit down and please behave. Zoey’s in enough trouble. I don’t want to come out of that room and find that you’ve been arrested for disorderly conduct.”
“Fine.” She plopped in to the chair. “You don’t have to get all snippy about it. I’ll just sit here and mind my own business. I certainly know how to behave and my conduct is always orderly.”
Maggie cocked an eyebrow in her direction. “Yeah, right. I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Zoey passed the dog to Edna. “Can you hold Bruiser while I’m in there? It would really help me.”
“Of course I can, honey.” Edna set the little dog on her lap and huffed at Maggie. “At least I’m good for something around here. It seems as if I’m good enough to take care of the dog.”
Maggie ignored her and followed Zoey and Mac throu
gh the door. She leaned down to speak quietly into Zoey’s ear. “Listen, I only know what Edna told me on the way down here, so for now, just answer their questions. You don’t need to volunteer any extra information that they could later use against you. Keep it simple until we’ve had a chance to talk.”
Zoey nodded, her nerves ratcheting up a notch. She looked around the busy station and remembered Teddy’s warning about the Cavellis having local police on their payroll and being careful about who to trust.
She knew she trusted Maggie. And Edna.
And she hoped she could trust Mac.
But that was about as far as she got in this room.
Taking a deep breath, she willed her hands to stop shaking. What she would do for a coffee right about now. Black with two sugars and just a dollop of cream. Not that she was particular.
Oh, who was she kidding? She was particular about every single thing in her life. She liked things neat and orderly, a place for everything and everything in its place. And she did not have a place for a dead body in her life. She couldn’t bear to think about the stain all that blood would leave on her rug.
Would plain bleach work on a blood stain, or maybe something abrasive? Maybe throwing it out would be easier than even attempting to clean it.
Just thinking about cleaning helped to calm her nerves. She could do this.
A detective in his mid-forties with drab brown hair and wearing a rumpled suit met them inside the door. He held a hand out to Mac. “Detective Schmidt—good to meet ya.”
Okay, he seemed nice. Maybe he was the ‘good’ cop. She really wanted to offer to iron his jacket though.
Mac shook his hand. “Officer McCarthy, Pleasant Valley PD. I was with Ms. Allen earlier when we discovered someone had been shot in her apartment.”
He ran his gaze over Zoey and Mac’s clothes. “What, were you working out at the gym together?”
Ignoring the detective’s barb, Maggie stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Maggie Hayes. I’m Ms. Allen’s lawyer.”