“It seems odd that she would quit to spend more time at home, considering I was going to school that fall.”
He shrugged. “Beats me.”
She met his gaze calmly. “Did you have an affair with my mother?”
For a moment, he just looked at her, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly then he clenched his fists around the broom and stepped toward her. In an instant, his friendly manner had vanished, replaced by a barely contained rage.
He said, “Jesus, no. Where the hell did you get that from?” All trace of warmth was gone from his voice.
Heart pounding, she stumbled back, remembering Jason had once told her about his father’s anger, how it came out of nowhere. She’d suspected Jason had been exaggerating, but now realized he hadn’t been.
She said, “It was just a question. I didn’t mean anything by it. You said yourself my mother was nice looking.”
Her heart raced and her palms felt sweaty. Anger flashed in his eyes and she wondered if she’d made a big mistake coming here. The situation seemed to be sliding out of control. She tried to remember if she’d shut the door when she came in the stables. She figured she could outrun him to the door, but if it was closed, her chances of opening it and getting out before he caught her were highly questionable.
“Well, it’s a hell of a question.” Holding the broom with both hands across the front of his body, he took another step toward her. Red spots had appeared on his face and his lips curled into a snarl. “I have no idea what you’re trying to pull, but I want you to get off my property. If you’re looking for someone to blame for your mother’s murder, I suggest you look elsewhere. I had nothing to do with it.”
Taking a step back, she said in a shaky voice, “I’m sorry.”
His knuckles on the broom handle were white. “I didn’t have an affair with your mother and I would never have hurt her. You’re trying to cause trouble for me, and it’s the last thing I need. Now get out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Smells good,” Anna Ackerman said as Cullen plunked a large paper bag of Chinese food on her desk. It was seven p.m. on Monday night, the beginning of the fourth week of the investigation. Most of the other detectives had gone home for the night, and it was quiet, the only noise the annoying hum of the fluorescent lights.
Anna lifted the lid on a steaming container of spicy pork. Passing him a plate, napkin, and chopsticks, she said, “You are a sweet man. Did anybody ever tell you that?”
Cullen snickered. “You’d say that to anybody who brought you food.”
She smiled. “I suppose that’s true.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. From down the hallway came the sound of a vacuum, which meant the cleaners were on their nightly round.
Anna got up, put the garbage can from their office in the hallway, and then shut the door. Back at her desk, she said, “Did we get the final autopsy report on Lisa Bosko?”
Nodding, Cullen waited until he was finished chewing. “It says Bosko died of a single heavy blow to the back of the head. There was a circular hole in the skull a couple of inches big. She would have died instantly and there were no other injuries.”
Anna took a sip of water. “If she was hit over the back of the head it suggests she was facing away from her killer. Maybe she’d turned her back or was walking away.”
“Otherwise she would likely have seen him coming. But she didn’t seem to have any warning, because they couldn’t find defensive wounds on her hands or arms.” He spooned more rice and ginger beef onto his plate. “Maybe it was spur of the moment.”
“That’s quite possible. It had to have been somebody she knew, someone who was with her, because if somebody came upon her, she would have heard and turned around.”
He said, “Like the husband.”
“That would fit. But he’s got an alibi and we can’t find a shred of evidence that he had anything to do with it. We’ve interviewed everybody who knew him. If it was the husband, you’d think we would have found something. Maybe not hard evidence, but something pointing to him.”
He said, “No sign of a weapon at the farm?”
She pushed her plate away, wiped her fingers, and then picked up and read from the police report. “A team combed the area pretty thoroughly and didn’t find anything obvious. The pathologist suggested the weapon might have been a hammer, something of that size. Is it possible she wasn’t killed there?”
“It’s possible, but there’s nothing to suggest she wasn’t.” He consulted the report again. “She was likely dressed because they found some remnants of yellow fabric”—he looked at the pictures in the report—“with what looks like a little flower print. No other DNA found from anybody else, which isn’t unusual considering the amount of time that’s passed.”
Anna said, “Not a hell of a lot to go with. We don’t have a motive. Nobody saw her being picked up. We have a note, which seems to be our best clue, but it only tells us she was going away for a couple of days. If she did write it.”
He rubbed his face. “There is the affair. Her husband says she admitted to him she’d an affair. She also told her friend.”
“But who was she having it with? It seems to have been the best kept secret in town.”
Cullen thought of Marlee, who’d been seeing Mike Banson, the cop, behind his back. He hadn’t suspected anything. “Maybe it’s not so unusual,” he said, grimacing.
Marlee had called the night before, late, just as he was falling asleep. She’d had an argument with Banson and was crying, wanted to meet up. He scratched his cheek, aware of a tightness in his chest. Odd how his feelings for her had done a complete one-eighty. The only woman he could think about was Nicole Bosko. The fire in those big eyes, her soft mouth, that beautiful body. Picturing her, a warmth spread through him.
The cleaners were in the office next door. The vacuum cleaner whined through the thin walls. Cullen put the empty takeout containers back in the paper bag, then tossed it in the garbage outside their door.
When he came back, Anna said, “Maybe Lisa Bosko didn’t want to keep the affair secret any longer. Could be she was killed because she wanted to tell.”
“We have to find out who it was.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “Nicole Bosko doesn’t seem to know. She probably never did.”
Anna took a drink from a can of soda. “On the other hand, what if Nicole Bosko knew who the caller was and told her father? She wouldn’t want to admit to us she’d spilled the beans, would she? Because it would mean she got her own mother killed.”
“I don’t think so. Besides, like you said, the husband had an iron-clad alibi and we haven’t been able to find any evidence that he hired anyone.”
She shrugged. “Maybe the guy who killed her was the man she’d had an affair with, and he thought Nicole knew who he was.”
“It’s possible, but I don’t think so. Why not kill Nicole back then, too? No, I don’t think she has any idea who the guy was. If she did, she’d be motivated to tell us. She really wants to know who killed her mother.”
Anna nodded. “Have we talked to all of Lisa Bosko’s friends?”
He counted off on his fingers. “We’ve spoken to four of them. The one friend knew; the others say they didn’t. We could ask them again.”
“I don’t think we’re going to get a different answer.” She finished the soda, set the can on the desk. “Oh yeah, I got a call from Corcoran, the prison in California. The guy who was suspected in the other murder, the one in prison for killing two people in the drugstore, he was working on an oil rig six miles off the coast of Nigeria when Lisa Bosko went missing.”
Cullen threw a pen down. “He didn’t sound like our guy anyway. It was his ex-girlfriend and she was shot.”
“It doesn’t look like we’re dealing with a serial killer. What do we tell the chief?”
“If we don’t cough up something soon, we’ll have to pack this case in. She’s already been pulling you away every chance she gets. We’ll have t
o stall.”
Nausea roiled in Cullen’s gut and he pounded his fist on the desk. They had to find out who murdered Lisa Bosko. Somebody had to pay for that. Plus, whenever he looked at her daughter, he saw the mother. And something told him Nicole wouldn’t be safe until the killer was behind bars.
Anna said, “What about where she was found? The abandoned farm? It’s kind of off the beaten track, and a long way from home for Lisa Bosko. You’d almost have to know it was there. Do we know who owns it?”
He consulted a file. “A developer in New Hampshire. They bought it a year ago in August from a company called First Marshall Corporation.”
“Who’s behind First Marshall?”
“Still trying to find out.”
Anna wiped the desk with a napkin. “So how did Lisa Bosko find out about it? She went there before with her daughter, but she must have gone before. How did she know about it? It’s a couple hours’ drive. Surely there are abandoned places a bit closer to take pictures of.”
He pinched his temples. “And why would the person who murdered her—let’s say it’s the same guy who picked her up from her house—bring her there?”
“Or woman. It could have been a woman. Maybe the woman was married to the guy she was having an affair with.”
He nodded, sitting forward. “We should talk to her friends again, see if any of them knew about this place.”
“Her husband says he didn’t.”
“If we can believe him.”
“There’s another thing,” he said. “Allan Spidell.”
“The Allan Spidell? The one who used to do those tacky television commercials in his grocery store? Oh wait, you didn’t grow up around here. You couldn’t have missed them if you had. What about him?”
He said, “He was at the Bosko memorial. Apparently, he was a friend of Lisa Bosko’s from way back when and she worked for him for a few years as a bookkeeper. We should pay him a visit. I called him this morning but I haven’t heard back from him yet.”
Anna said, “That would be interesting. Word around town is he’s got financial troubles. He’s sunk a lot of money into his horse farm.”
“What about the grocery stores?”
“They’ve taken a hit, apparently. Competition from bigger chain stores. Anyway, that doesn’t have anything to do with Lisa Bosko’s murder. But he’s a piece of work. I think he’s on his third wife. My sister’s kid went out for a while with his son. Another piece of work. Claire, my sister, she did everything she could to put an end to it. He was seven years older than her daughter.”
“Nicole Bosko went out with Jason Spidell, too, although I think they were about the same age. They got in trouble together.”
“Oh, yeah. That was a big scandal at the time, her father being a big-shot doctor and all. I get the feeling she’s still trying to live it down.”
* * *
“What exactly do you remember?”
The question came over the phone from Emily, who called Monday evening to check up on Nicky. They’d discussed wedding preparations and had moved on to the topic of childhood memories.
“Some of the things I remember aren’t clear. They’re just little snippets, like my mother singing to me. This is pretty random, but I think she was a Diana Ross fan. I remember her singing “Where Did Our Love Go.” And I remember the first day of school. I wanted to dress up as a bride and she let me. She took a picture of me climbing up the steps of the bus wearing this huge veil and a white dress. My dad was mortified but my mom didn’t care.”
Emily laughed. “I’d love to see the picture. My mother made me wear this blue plaid dress I absolutely hated. She drove me to school and spent the whole day at the back of the classroom.”
“I can just see the scowl on your face.” Nicky placed a sofa cushion on her lap and crossed her arms over it. “My mom was pretty easygoing. One time we were in a field. She must have been taking pictures or something. Anyway, the grass was tall and I can remember it scratched my arms. Somehow I got mud all over my shoes. I thought she would be angry but she just laughed.”
“It’s great you’re remembering these things. They sound like good memories.”
Nicky curled a lock of hair around her index finger. “One of them wasn’t so good.” She hesitated. “I’m not even sure it happened, or if it’s something I imagined. But it’s pretty vivid. I think I almost drowned.”
“What happened?”
“I was in the lake at our house and I must have fallen off the dock.”
“Was this before your mother died?”
“She saved me. I remember being in the water, way over my head, and looking up. I must have been on the bottom and I remember seeing somebody on the dock looking down.” A suffocating feeling tightened her throat at the memory.
“Who?”
“Probably my mother. I think she jumped in and pulled me out of the water. I remember being with her on the grass after, throwing up water. I must have swallowed quite a bit of it.”
Alarm tinged Emily’s tone. “Was anybody else there?”
“I don’t think so. Mom was crying. I don’t think I’d ever seen her upset like that before. I get the feeling maybe she felt responsible, like maybe she wasn’t watching me closely enough. I don’t remember much else. I don’t remember falling in. It must have been summertime, because I had a bathing suit on.” She swallowed, recovering. “The funny thing is I phoned my dad this morning to ask about it and he’d never heard anything about it.”
“Maybe your mom didn’t tell him.”
She walked to the window, looked out. “You’re probably right. And anyway, I’m not even sure it happened. I did have a pretty vivid imagination.”
Emily said, “Are the cops getting any closer to finding out who killed your mom?”
“I don’t think so, at least not from what they’re telling me. Whoever did this may end up getting away with it.”
“They haven’t given up, have they?”
“No, but there’s not a lot to work with. I just wish I could remember more. I feel like I’m letting my dad down.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way. How’s Karina doing?”
“I haven’t seen her since the memorial, but I think she’s okay. Karina will persevere.”
She laughed. “That’s pretty well her motto.”
“She did a lovely job at the memorial service. I’m just not sure her heart was in it. She told me once she hated the piano.”
Emily sounded surprised. “But she’s so good at it.”
“I know, but I remember her saying a few years back that she had to practice for hours on end and she got to a point where she dreaded it.”
“How sad. What about you? Didn’t you have to play?”
She chuckled. “I refused to practice more than ten minutes at a time. It drove my dad crazy but eventually he let me quit.”
“Your sister should have refused.”
“She never could refuse dad. I always felt like the odd person out in our little trio, but it had its benefits, too. His expectations of Karina were so high. Whereas, me, I basically did what I wanted to do.”
Emily said, “That means everything you’ve achieved, you’ve done it on your own.”
They talked for a few more minutes, then Emily said, “Does Karina have a boyfriend?”
“No. She hasn’t outdone me in the boyfriend department. There was somebody serious, but it didn’t pan out. He was an accountant and he played tenor sax in a jazz band. She seemed to like him a lot but she didn’t want to talk about what went wrong.”
After the call with Emily, Nicky was heating up a bowl of leftover soup when her cell phone rang again. This time it was Karina, who was at their father’s house and wanted her to come out for supper.
“I’ve already got something planned. Can I take a rain check? Tomorrow night?”
“I’m working a twelve-hour shift tomorrow, so it won’t work. I’ll just tell Dad you have other plans.”
&n
bsp; Nicky sighed. “All right. I can come.” A night alone would have been preferable, but she had to make an effort.
Ten minutes later, she walked out to her car in the parking lot behind her building. It was raining again—the radio had warned of flooding in some areas—and the sky was dark and gloomy. The overgrown branches of a dogwood shrub rhythmically tapped against the car. Pulling up the hood on her jacket, she slipped her key in the lock. Maybe someday she’d be able to afford a car with an automatic opener.
Something touched her arm and she jumped, then spun around, terror shooting through her.
When she saw who it was, she let out a big breath and put her hand over her heart. “God, Mike, you scared the shit out of me.”
His answer was a mumble. “Didn’t mean to.”
Rummaging in her purse, Nicky found her wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Mike was a homeless man she’d first seen a month ago when he started hanging out on the street near her apartment. About her age, he was unfailingly polite, didn’t drink as far as she knew and was getting help for mental health issues. At least she hoped he was. He’d been on the street since February, when his mother died.
She handed him the money. “How’s the job hunt going?”
Thanking her for the money with a nod, Mike flipped his hand back and forth in a gesture meaning so-so, then walked away.
The road was slick with rain and she drove slowly, still jumpy. It didn’t help she’d been feeling paranoid, a strange sixth sense telling her the killer was watching.
You’re being ridiculous.
Shivering, she reached over and turned on the radio. Amy Winehouse was singing about waking up alone. She switched it off.
Outside of town, the tires hissed on the wet pavement, a silvery blue ribbon in the fading light. Up ahead, on the other side of the road, a dog that looked like a German shepherd trotted down the road toward her. She slowed and when she got closer realized it was a coyote. It had gray and brown fur and pointed ears. She’d seen them in this area before, and this one looked healthy and strong. It glanced at her car with mild interest, then continued on its way.
Extreme Pursuit (Chasing Justice #2) Page 10