by Marie Celine
‘Actually, I’m a gourmet pet chef,’ Kitty answered. She had backed up to the doorway and was desperate to leave.
‘Yeah,’ Brad said, nodding. ‘I saw a couple of minutes of your show. Good stuff. I’ve got a dog of my own, you know.’
‘Oh, thank you.’ She glanced at the knife in Gretchen’s back. The heart-shaped locket Gretchen had been wearing now stuck to the back of her lifeless neck. The chain must have gotten twisted around in the struggle. ‘I–I didn’t kill her. She was like that when I came in. You’ve got to believe me.’
The security guard twisted his lips and frowned. ‘I guess we’ll find out soon enough.’
David Biggins stuck his head in the door. ‘What’s going on?’
‘David!’ cried Kitty in surprise. ‘I thought you’d gone.’
‘Hi, Kitty.’ He nodded to the guard. ‘I forgot my jacket,’ he said with a lopsided grin, dangling a tan windbreaker on his index finger. ‘I came in through the side door with Brad.’ The guard glanced over his shoulder and frowned.
It was then that David’s eyes fell to the body on the floor behind the guard’s legs. ‘What the …’ He fell back against the door. ‘Is that Gretchen?’
Kitty nodded. ‘Yes, I found her like that. I came looking for her. I wanted to see how she liked the show. But when I came in,’ Kitty waved helplessly toward the corpse, ‘there she was.’
‘Wow,’ was all David could say.
The sound of multiple sirens penetrated the room.
‘I think we’d better all step outside. We don’t want to contaminate the crime scene,’ stated the guard. ‘But don’t wander off,’ he added, directing his look toward Kitty.
It wasn’t long before a posse of police officers and technicians showed up and started asking questions. ‘Oh, brother,’ said one middle-aged officer, peeking into the room and scratching his head, ‘show business is one tough racket.’
‘Tell me about it, Sarge,’ clucked his partner.
Three paramedics arrived. ‘Where’s the victim?’ asked the lead medic, his hands gripping a medical kit. The other two bore a stretcher.
One of the police officers jerked his thumb toward the open door. ‘In there, but you aren’t going to need that. A one-size-fits-all body bag will do the trick.’
‘Yeah, and be careful what you touch,’ said the one called Sarge, ‘this is a crime scene.’
The paramedics wordlessly shoved past the officers. Kitty could see one checking Gretchen’s pulse and, though she knew it was practically impossible, she prayed that they would find one.
One of the paramedics shook his head. ‘Game over,’ he said. He and his partners stepped back out into the hall and waited. A couple of plainclothes detectives arrived next, escorting a young, harried looking man in black trousers, white shirt and a skinny black tie. He looked like he belonged in some eighties era new-wave band. Kitty overheard someone mention he was the medical examiner.
‘In here?’ one of the detectives asked a uniformed officer at the door.
The officer nodded and the three new arrivals swept into Gretchen’s office. Kitty heard one of them let out a long, low whistle. ‘Who found her?’
‘I–I did,’ answered Kitty. She shivered as she watched the man in the skinny black tie check the area surrounding the knife wound, a dour look on his face.
‘That’s right,’ added the security guard. ‘I was coming by on my rounds when I spotted this lady,’ Brad said, with a jerk of his head, ‘right there next to Miss Corbett.’ His eyes narrowed in on Kitty.
‘What about him?’ The detective pointed in David Biggins’ direction.
‘I’m David Biggins,’ said the young man. ‘I came back for my jacket.’ He held it up for proof.
‘Your jacket was in Miss Corbett’s office?’
‘No, back behind the set. I was coming up the hall,’ he said nervously, ‘when I saw Kitty and Brad here.’
Brad nodded. ‘That’s right, Detective. It’s just like he said.’
The detective straightened his knees and dusted himself off. ‘I’d like a word with you, Miss—’
‘Karlyle. Kitty Karlyle,’ she said shakily.
‘I’m Detective Leitch. Let’s talk, Miss Karlyle,’ the detective ordered, his voice flat and hard. He had on a brown business suit – all business by the looks of him – and sported a military-style crew cut. His face was pockmarked around the cheekbones, but pleasant, and his hazel eyes looked like they never missed a thing.
‘Mind if I listen in?’
Kitty turned in surprise. ‘Jack!’ She ran to her fiancé and gave him a warm hug. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. This is a nightmare.’
‘Calm down, Kitty,’ Jack replied. Jack Young was in his thirties, with a well-balanced, muscular physique and boyish good looks. His eyes were light green and went from stern to mischievous depending on his mood. Right now, he was looking a bit on the stern side. He gripped Kitty’s arms above the elbows for a second, and then released her. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’
Jack turned to Detective Leitch and held out his hand. ‘Good to see you again, Rick.’
‘You, too, Jack.’ The two men shook hands and Leitch glanced Kitty’s way. ‘So, you’re acquainted with Miss Karlyle?’
A trace of a grin flashed across his face. ‘You could say that.’ He turned to Kitty. ‘Kitty, this is Detective Richard Leitch. He’s one of the best.’
Kitty nodded nervously and said hello again.
A tall blonde who looked like she might have just stepped off the cover of Scandinavian Police Beat Magazine burst on to the scene like a summer shower and interrupted the proceedings.
‘Who’s the victim?’ she demanded loudly.
Kitty recognized that voice. This was the woman who had answered Jack’s cell phone earlier.
‘Gretchen Corbett, some high mucky-muck here at the studio,’ Leitch offered.
The woman turned up her bottom lip and nodded once. Kitty took a good look at her and felt small in comparison. The blonde filled out her navy blue suit well; too well, in Kitty’s opinion. She was standing very close to Jack, also wearing his navy suit. She was standing too close to Jack, in Kitty’s opinion.
‘Rick, this is Lieutenant Elin Nordstrom.’ The lieutenant flashed her perfect white teeth and said hello. Her eyes were the color of blue topaz.
Kitty was suddenly feeling very unfeminine. And short. How tall was this woman, anyway? She was wearing low-heeled, black, closed-toe shoes, so she couldn’t blame the woman’s height on them. Kitty felt sweaty, and tired, and dirty. It had been a long day. And there was no end in sight.
She suddenly realized that Jack had been talking to her. And she very likely smelled of pet food and fear. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘Elin suggested we go someplace less hectic to talk.’
‘OK,’ agreed Kitty. Anything was better than standing there watching while the police danced all around Gretchen’s corpse.
‘There’s an empty office just up the hall,’ offered David. Kitty noticed he looked awfully pale.
Jack eyed him up and down. ‘And you are?’
David held out his hand. When Jack didn’t reach for it, he ran it nervously through his hair. ‘David Biggins.’
‘What do you have to do with this?’
‘Nothing,’ David stammered quickly. ‘I work here. I came back in to get my jacket is all.’ He held up his lightweight jacket once more. ‘I was walking by when I saw the light on and—’
Jack cut him off with a slash of his right hand. ‘Fine. We’ll get your statement, too. Show me this empty office.’
‘You go ahead, Jack,’ said Nordstrom. ‘I’d like to get a closer look at the body.’
Kitty rolled her eyes. Did the woman have ice water running through those Scandinavian veins? Kitty never wanted to see the image of Gretchen Corbett lying dead on the floor with a knife in her back ever again.
Detective Leitch nodded. ‘I’ll give you the grand tour.’ He and the
lieutenant went in one direction and Jack, David and Kitty in the other. ‘We’re going to want your statement, as well,’ he warned the security guard. ‘Stick around.’
The guard promised he would.
The office up the hall was small, bare and windowless. ‘It used to belong to Sonny, but he was fired last week,’ David explained, pulling up one of the two chairs in front of the empty desk.
Jack seated himself behind the desk and leaned against the wall, nodding now and then to show he was listening, as Kitty and David told their stories. Jack carefully had them detail their movements throughout the evening.
As they were going over their stories for what Kitty felt was the hundredth time, the lovely Lieutenant Nordstrom strode in. She leaned over Jack and whispered in his ear.
Kitty squirmed in her chair. She couldn’t make out what she was saying but she didn’t like how close those pouty lips of hers were to Jack’s ear.
Jack frowned and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he was looking straight at Kitty. He leaned forward, his fingers drumming on the bare desktop.
Kitty crossed and uncrossed her legs, wondering what secret the two of them had shared.
Jack’s voice was even and emotionless. ‘You want to tell me about the knife, Kitty?’
THREE
Kitty looked nervously from Jack to the lieutenant. She could swear there was an ever-so-slight smile on the woman’s smug face. Kitty attempted a smile herself but it crumbled almost immediately, like the beginnings of a failed sandcastle on the beach – a faulty construction that was more saltwater than sand.
Elin Nordstrom was looking at her as if she was a blonde cat about to pounce on a brown mouse. Kitty had seen that look in Barney’s eyes every time a pigeon got within striking distance of her apartment windows. Barney was the frisky, tuxedoed stray cat that had followed her home one day. ‘Why did you do it, Karlyle?’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Jealousy?’
Kitty practically jumped out of her chair, sending it skidding into the wall. ‘What? No!’
‘Greed?’ Nordstrom’s nose was in her face. ‘Did she owe you money? Refuse your demands?’
Kitty’s mouth hung open and she planted her hands on her hips.
‘Maybe I should take over the questioning on this one,’ Jack interjected.
This one, thought Kitty. Suddenly she’d gone from being his fiancée to this one.
The lieutenant pulled herself up to her full height and studied Kitty. ‘Fine, Jack. See what you can get out of her. I’ll check with the techs.’
With the Nordstrom woman gone, Kitty plunked back in her chair. She glowered at Jack who returned the look, which was only getting her dander up again. ‘This one?’ She folded her shaking arms across her chest. ‘Suddenly, I’m this one?’
‘What? What did I say?’ complained Jack, gesturing with his hands. His eyes landed on David Biggins. ‘How about waiting for me out in the hall?’
David swallowed, nodded silently and slid hastily out the door.
‘Well?’
‘Well, what?’ Jack asked.
‘Who is she?’ Kitty’s eyes jerked toward the doorway.
‘You heard. She’s Lieutenant Nordstrom.’ Jack stood and paced the small room.
‘Yes, and she calls you dear.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Jack stopped in his tracks and stared.
‘Earlier today on the phone, when I called you. She,’ Kitty said, with unhidden loathing, ‘answered. And, she said “it’s for you, Jack, dear.”’ Then the line had gone dead.
Jack waved Kitty’s words away. ‘Please, she calls everybody dear. It’s her thing.’
‘Not that I’ve heard so far,’ countered Kitty.
‘She’s Swedish. Maybe it’s a Swedish thing. She’s my temporary boss for crying out loud. What do you want me to do?’
‘Yeah, well, why doesn’t she just go back to Sweden where she belongs?’ Kitty muttered under her breath.
Jack leaned in. ‘What?’
Kitty twisted her lips. ‘Nothing.’
Jack came to the edge of the desk and sat against it. ‘Listen, Kitty, now is not the time. There’s a dead woman out there,’ he said, pointing toward Gretchen’s office, ‘and the murder weapon’s got your initials on it. I told you this TV show thing was a bad idea.’
The right side of Kitty’s mouth turned down. Jack hadn’t exactly discouraged her from trying out for the TV show but he hadn’t exactly encouraged her either. She supposed part of her wanted to prove to him that she could do it; rise to the challenge. The fact that she had no interest in becoming a TV personality had taken a backseat.
‘The knife?’ Jack prodded once more.
‘I don’t know how it got there, Jack,’ Kitty replied, her voice falling almost to a whisper. The monogrammed Wusthoff knife set had been a gift from her parents when she’d graduated culinary school. Those knives weren’t cheap. She wondered if she’d be getting that kitchen knife back once the police were done with it. On second thought, she realized she didn’t want the thing back, not ever.
‘Well, you might want to start coming up with some sort of explanation,’ grumbled Jack.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Kitty’s voice rose as she rose once again from her chair.
‘Now, calm down, Kitty.’
‘Calm down? You calm down, Jack, dear,’ Kitty said. ‘Tell me, do you actually think that I might have killed Gretchen?’ She glared at him accusingly.
‘Of course not,’ Jack quickly replied. He laid a light hand on her arm and she brushed it away. ‘Look,’ he pleaded. ‘I can’t help it. I’ve got a job to do. There’s a woman lying dead in there and I’ve got to figure out who did it.’ He let out a long slow breath. ‘And I have to question everyone.’
‘Oh really?’ retorted Kitty, hands on hips. ‘Well, you know what?’ She wasn’t waiting for an answer. ‘I have nothing to say to you. How do you like that?’
‘Now, Kitty—’
‘No, not another word. Get somebody else to interview this suspect!’
‘Please, Kitty. Try to understand.’ He took her in his arms and she again pushed him away. ‘I’m only doing my job.’ He added under his breath, ‘At least trying to.’
‘I heard that. And I’ve heard enough from you.’
Jack leaned his head back and closed his eyes. ‘I’m only trying to help, Kitty. The sooner we find Ms Corbett’s killer, the better things will be for you. I’m trying to help you.’
‘Well, I don’t need your help,’ quipped Kitty. ‘In fact, I don’t need anybody’s help,’ she thrust her chin out defiantly, ‘because I’m going to find out who killed Gretchen Corbett myself. I’ll prove that I didn’t do it and I’ll prove it without any assistance from you, Detective.’ She turned her back on him.
‘Oh, please,’ snorted Jack. ‘That’s enough, Kitty. Look,’ he laid a hand on her shoulder, ‘go home. Get some rest. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.’
Kitty twisted her neck and looked him straight in the eye, her tone mocking. If she was mad before, she was even madder now – fueled by his condescending tone. ‘What, you don’t want to lock me up? You’re not afraid your number one suspect will take it on the lam?’
Jack rolled his eyes. ‘This is crazy. You’re tired. I’m tired. Let’s call it a night.’
‘Jack, come here, please. I need you.’ That was Nordstrom’s voice coming from outside in the hall.
‘She needs you, Jack, dear.’
‘Jack, you need to take a look at this.’
Jack looked from the door to Kitty and shrugged. ‘Just a sec—’
‘So, am I free to leave?’ asked Kitty.
Jack waved toward the office door.
‘Thank you.’ She stepped into the crowded hall where David Biggins stood looking miserably by. ‘Oh, David, you’re still here. Detective Young has decided that we’re free to leave.’
‘Is that right, Detective?’
‘Just give your contact i
nformation to the sergeant on your way out, Mr Biggins. We’ll be wanting to take a full statement from you.’ There was a tone of weary defeat in Jack’s voice.
‘There you are, Jack,’ Nordstrom reached out and took the detective by the elbow. ‘Come, take a look at this.’ She began pulling Jack into the dead producer’s office. ‘We’re about to take a look at the Corbett woman’s computer files. The computer tech has cracked her password.’
The lieutenant glanced back at Kitty and David. ‘Are you cutting those two loose?’
‘For now. We don’t need anything more from them tonight. I know how to reach them, if need be.’
Nordstrom shot Kitty a withering look. ‘I don’t know, Jack. She’s our number one suspect. She owned the murder weapon. We should probably take her down to the station. We have not yet determined if Miss Karlyle’s prints are on her knife.’
Kitty swallowed hard. Were her prints on the knife? Very possibly. She used it practically every day, so it wasn’t going to surprise her if the police announced that they’d found her fingerprints all over the murder weapon.
The question was, what would they do next? Arrest her?
Jack looked helplessly from Kitty to the lieutenant. ‘I’ll vouch for her, Elin.’
‘How nice of you, Jack.’ Kitty resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. If she had any magical powers at all, Elin Nordstrom would be nothing more than a pile of ashy residue on the floor due to the smoldering look Kitty was giving her.
‘And don’t worry, I’m not leaving town.’ Kitty looked at David. ‘Neither of us are. Besides,’ she said, teasingly, ‘I intend to solve this murder myself.’
Jack groaned softly. It was the lieutenant’s mocking laugh that piqued Kitty. ‘This isn’t a TV show,’ scoffed Nordstrom, ‘and you are a cook. Stay out of our way. Interfering in a police investigation is a serious crime.’ Her eyes taunted Kitty. ‘You don’t want to end up in even more trouble, do you?’ She turned on her heels. ‘Come, Jack.’
Jack shrugged powerlessly.
Kitty bit her lip and looped her arm through David’s. ‘Does that offer of dinner still stand?’
‘Uh, yeah, sure,’ he muttered, looking confused.
Kitty smiled smugly. ‘Great, let’s go.’ She took extra satisfaction in spying Jack twisting his head backwards – as Nordstrom pulled him along – so he could watch her leave with David.