by Gerri Hill
Their eyes held for a moment, then Marissa nodded, a slight smile on her face. “Call me Marissa.”
Casey settled into the plush car, watching as Marissa went to the driver’s side, her glance sliding briefly to Casey as she opened her door.
“I trust you’re familiar with the case?”
Casey nodded. “Which makes me all the more confused as to why I’m here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m Special Victims. And from everything I’ve read and heard, there was no sexual crime.”
“Let me guess. You’ve been talking to Hunter.”
“Yeah, five minutes with her and she had me brainwashed,” she teased.
“No doubt.”
“Take a left up here.” Casey pointed. “And she didn’t have to brainwash me. I read the reports. Facts are facts. But he was found naked. I guess that could be perceived as a sexual crime.”
She shrugged. “Or made to look that way.”
“What are you insinuating, Detective O’Connor?”
“What makes you think I’m insinuating anything?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t judge you based on Hunter.”
“At the light, turn left again.” They were coming upon Casey’s favorite restaurant. “And what’s with you and Hunter?”
“We didn’t exactly hit it off.”
Casey laughed. “I guess I should have suspected that when I saw you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I asked her what you looked like,” Casey admitted. “She didn’t exactly describe you correctly,” she said, looking Marissa over top to bottom.
Marissa raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Casey smiled. “You’re attractive. Young.”
“And this has what to do with Hunter?”
“She described you as fiftyish and a troll.”
“A troll? That figures.” She stopped at the light. “And fifty-ish? Surely I don’t look fiftyish.”
“I think Hunter was just giving me a hard time.” She pointed down the street. “The Border.”
“Border of the Sun? Doesn’t sound very authentic. Is it a chain?”
“I thought you wanted spicy Tex-Mex, not authentic. And no, it’s not a chain. Jose and Francesca Rios own it.” Casey had known them for years.
Marissa pulled into the crowded parking lot, circling through twice before finding a spot. “Well, they’re crowded, that’s for sure. Perhaps we should try someplace else. We have things to discuss. I don’t relish the idea of sitting in a noisy lobby with a crowd of people.”
“We’ll get a table, don’t worry.” Casey got out and slipped on the black leather jacket she’d had folded in her lap on the drive.
Marissa did the same, pulling a nearly identical one from the backseat.
“Nice jacket,” Casey quipped as she fell into step beside her.
Marissa ignored her comment as she shoved her hands into her pockets. “The chief tells me the case will be wrapped up this week.”
“Is that right?”
“Even though Hunter and Kennedy agreed that Juan Hidalgo was the killer, they refused to close the case without knowing the motive,” Marissa said. “Quite frankly, I think that’s silly.”
“Silly? If a hit man takes out a federal judge, do you just file charges against the hit man? Or do you go after who hired him?”
“Juan Hidalgo was hardly a hit man. And what possible evidence could you have to indicate someone hired him?”
Casey held the door open, motioning Marissa inside. The smell of fresh tortillas and spicy food hit her the moment they walked in. People waiting to be seated crowded around the bar, some shouting out their drink requests over the noise.
“Hang on a sec,” Casey said. She moved through the crowd, looking for a familiar face. She found her helping out at the cash register. She waited to the side until she was noticed. “Hello, Fran.”
The older woman’s eyes lit up. “Casey, welcome.” Francesca slid around the counter, both hands reaching out to grasp Casey’s arms. “So good to see you again.” She looked past her. “You have a date, yes?”
Casey chuckled. “Not exactly. A working date,” she said. “Any chance I can get a table?”
“Of course, Casey. For you, I find a nice spot.”
“Thanks, Fran. Let me go find Marissa.”
“Ah, Marissa,” she said, her Spanish accent rolling the r nicely. “Sounds lovely.”
“She’s lovely to look at, yes,” Casey said. “But it’s business.”
“So you say, Casey. Go get this business date. I shall see.”
Casey bent to kiss her cheek. “Thanks. Be right back.”
Marissa met her with an amused smile. “The owner?”
“Yeah. Wonderful woman. She’s going to get us a table.” Casey politely took Marissa’s elbow only to have the other woman stop and turn and look quickly at the hand touching her arm.
“I appreciate the chivalry, Detective, but it’s certainly not necessary. I’m not in the need of an escort this evening.”
“Damn. Me and my manners, what was I thinking,” Casey said lightly. “I’ll let you fight your own way through the crowd then.”
And she did, turning toward the dining room and looking for Francesca. Maybe Hunter was right. Marissa was attractive, yeah. But arrogant and obnoxious weren’t a stretch. She found Fran waiting for her in a quiet corner, away from the noise.
“How’s this?” Francesca gestured.
“Perfect.”
“And your lady friend?”
Casey turned, waiting as Marissa wound her way through the tables. “Fran, meet Marissa Goddard. Marissa, this is Francesca Rios, creator of the best chicken enchiladas you will ever eat.”
Francesca bowed her head politely as she pulled out a chair for Marissa. “Welcome, Marissa. Always nice to meet a new lady friend of Casey’s.” She winked subtly at Casey before squeezing her shoulder. “I will send someone over to take your order. Margaritas are on me tonight, Casey.”
Casey grinned as Fran walked away, then curbed it when Marissa glared at her. “She thinks I’m your date?”
Casey shrugged. “Trust me, you could do a lot worse.” She folded her hands together on the table and leaned closer. “I’m considered a good catch.” She raised her eyebrows teasingly before settling back again.
Marissa finally relaxed. “I suppose I should be thankful it’s not Hunter I’m having dinner with.”
“I kinda like her,” Casey said. “I was told she was obnoxious and arrogant for a woman.” Then she laughed. “Which is pretty much how Hunter described you.”
“She’s abrasive.”
“Yeah, she may have used that word too.”
Marissa opened her menu and scanned it. “Kennedy is a doll. I can’t believe she’s with someone like Hunter.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Tori’s got that tall, dark and handsome thing down pretty good. And I’ve not met Kennedy.” She glanced up as a waiter approached and promptly placed a basket of hot tortilla chips and both red and green salsa in front of them. “If you like your margaritas with a kick, you’ve got to try the Rios Rita. It’s the best in town.”
“You’re a police officer and I’m driving. What are you advocating?”
“One margarita with your meal should be fine, Ms. Goddard. And if you’re concerned, I’ll be happy to take the wheel.” She said to the waiter, “Two Rios Ritas. I’ll have mine on the rocks.” She looked at Marissa with eyebrows raised.
“The same.”
“Excellent choice,” he said as he bowed courteously. “May I get you an appetizer this evening?”
Marissa shook her head. “None for me, thanks.”
“Very well. Your drinks will be right out.”
Casey reached for a chip and scooped up the green sauce, pausing to drip the excess off before popping it into her mouth. “Fabulous,” she murmured as she chewed. “The red is hotter than the green.” She grinned. “
And being a Yankee and all, you might want to take it easy on the salsa.”
Marissa took a chip from the basket and broke it in half, then dipped one into the red salsa. “Your Yankee comment doesn’t offend me, Detective,” she said, taking a bite. “I’m from Southern California.”
Casey laughed. “Damn. But I should have known that. Long blond hair, nice tan,” she said. “But they told me you were from Boston.”
Marissa nodded as she dipped the other half of her chip into the green salsa. “I’ve been in Boston the last eight years. I keep meaning to move back to the West Coast but there never seems to be enough time. And a tanning bed works wonders.” She reached for her water. “I think the green is hotter.”
“Wimp.” Casey took another chip. “So, do you have somebody back home? In Boston?” she asked, then leaned back as the waiter brought their drinks. “Thanks.”
Marissa stared across the table, meeting her eyes. “This isn’t really a date, you know. We’re supposed to be discussing the case.”
“Yeah, but then we’ll just end up arguing and ruin our meal. How about we discuss the case after dinner? Because if I had to guess, this is the first time you’ve had a chance to get out and relax in over a week.”
Marissa nodded. “My dinner dates have been with the mayor and his wife twice, the mayor and chief once, Monsignor Bernard from the diocese once and the rest alone.”
“And isn’t this more fun?”
Marissa smiled. “Yes. Thank you, it is.”
Casey took a sip from her drink, her eyes closing, enjoying the perfect mix of sweet and sour. “God, that’s good.” She looked at Marissa as she tasted hers. “Yes?”
Marissa’s eyes widened as she swallowed. “Wow.” She cleared her throat. “I may have to take you up on the driving offer. That’s stout.”
Casey reached for the chips again. “So? You got someone? Back home?” she asked again.
Marissa shook her head. “Not anymore. I did.” She paused. “I had a perfect life and a perfect job making tons of money. Bethany was everything I’d always wanted.” She sipped again from her drink. “And she loved me. But she wanted everything, you know. She wanted a normal life, she wanted kids.” Marissa laughed. “And she wanted me to have them. I can play the traditional girl,” she said, pointing at herself, “but I never had the desire to have kids. I’m not exactly mother material.” She tilted her head. “It didn’t matter. She left me.” She opened her purse and pulled out a cigarette, then looked for an ashtray.
“No smoking.”
“I hate these new laws.” She tossed her cigarette down just as the waiter approached again.
“Are we ready to order, ladies?”
“Chicken enchiladas with extra sour cream,” Casey said quickly, knowing exactly what she wanted. “With black beans.”
“Hungry?” Marissa asked as she looked back at her menu.
“Starved.”
“Mmm. I’ll have the combo enchiladas. Chicken, beef and veggie,” she said. “And black beans also.”
“Combo is good too,” Casey said, scooping up another chip. “So tell me what happened.”
“With?”
“Bethany. You said she left you.”
“What? You actually want details?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Marissa leaned forward. “Why are we having dinner and conversation like we’re old friends?”
Casey shrugged. “I’m friendly.”
“I’m not.”
Casey laughed. “Okay. I was a psychology major.”
“That means what?”
“I’m nosy. And I ask a lot of questions.” She grabbed another chip. “So? She left you. Why?”
Marissa sighed. “I was never there.”
“You travel around putting out church fires a lot, do you?”
“Not just church fires, no. We specialize in media relations. And we’re good. You remember Trinity Oil?”
“Trinity? You call that good? Half the higher-ups got prison time.” The sentences hadn’t been light, Casey recalled.
“Well, can you imagine how it would have been if we’d not been there? We also did Senator Bailey when he got that intern pregnant. We managed the mine disaster in Kentucky after the explosion. And yeah, we do church fires. When the Boston diocese had all that trouble, we were there.” She drank the last of her margarita. “And one time when I was gone for about six months, Bethany’s phone calls got less and less. The last month or so, we existed through voice mail. And when I got home, the place was empty.”
“Empty? What? She took everything?”
“No. Empty of life. She didn’t take anything except our dog.”
“And you didn’t try to find her?”
“Of course. But there was no fairytale ending. She’d quit her job and moved to Hartford.”
Casey frowned. “Where?”
“It’s in Connecticut. I swear—you Texans. There’s a whole world out there, you know.”
Casey smiled. “So they say.”
“Anyway, she’s seeing someone now. Someone normal, someone with a real job.”
“A real job?”
“Someone who’s around. I called her once, just to let her know there weren’t any hard feelings, just to let her know I was happy for her.”
Casey nodded. “Closure?”
Marissa sighed. “Not really. She told me not to call again.”
“So let me guess. You’ve given up on relationships, you limit your involvement both personally and professionally, and you satisfy your intimacy needs by having unfulfilling sex with people you don’t really like.” She raised her eyebrows. “Am I right?”
“You’re very perceptive, Detective O’Connor.” She leaned closer. “But I wouldn’t really call it unfulfilling sex. It’s actually quite refreshing not to have to worry about all that emotional crap that goes along with having a relationship.” She sat back and twirled her empty glass. “And what about you, Detective? Do you have someone waiting at home?”
“Me?” Casey laughed. “No, no. I’m career-oriented. For right now, at least. I tried mixing the two, but I was told I was incapable of having a mature relationship,” she said, surprised that there was still a hint of bitterness in her voice. So she laughed it away. “A long time ago.”
“So you get by with unfulfilling sex with people you don’t really like?”
“Therein lies the difference. I’m not afraid of involvement like you are. It’s just that now is not the right time for me. I want to focus on my career. So I get by with the occasional fling.” She smiled. “Occasional being the key word.”
She looked up as the waiter approached with their dinner, waiting patiently as her chicken enchiladas were placed in front of her.
“Another drink?” he asked.
Casey shook her head. “Better not. Thank you.”
“And for you?”
Marissa also shook her head. “Water is fine.”
“Well, enjoy your meal, ladies. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Looks great,” Marissa said when he left. “Smells great.”
“Tastes great,” Casey murmured around a mouthful. “I could eat here every day.”
Marissa nodded as she took her first bite. “Excellent.”
Casey took a swallow of water, then pointed at Marissa. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You’re here—your job—is to make sure Father Michael’s affair is not made public—”
“Alleged affair,” Marissa interrupted.
“Right. Alleged affair. Sorry.” She put her fork down. “So you’re here to make sure the alleged affair stays under wraps. You want the case closed, Hidalgo tabbed for the murder, Father Michael voted into sainthood and all’s well with the world when you head back to Boston.”
Marissa laughed. “That’s pretty much it. Can you make it happen?”
“Well, you may get your wish. The brass wants this case closed by the end of the week.”
“Then why
do I get the feeling you’re going to spend the next four days trying to prove me wrong?”
Casey smiled. “Because it’s my job. But I have no doubt this case will end the way you want.”
“This case?”
“Yeah. Everyone seems to forget that Hidalgo’s murderer is still out there. And I can assure you, Tori Hunter won’t let that one go cold.”
Marissa rested her elbows on the table and folded her hands together. “I would assume if she’s told to let it go, she would. I mean, she does follow orders, right?”
Casey shook her head. “No way. If Homicide is ordered to drop it, it’ll just scream cover-up. Hunter will go nuts.”
Marissa scooped up a forkful of rice. “How well do you know her?”
“Hunter? Oh, I just met her this morning. But she’s intense. I think she’s all about honor, about the truth.” She paused. “About doing the right thing. No way she drops this case.”
“So is this your psychology degree paying off again?”
Casey attacked the last of her enchiladas. “Yeah. Comes in handy, doesn’t it?”
“I’m curious about one thing.”
“Shoot.”
“You don’t seem surprised by any of this. The so-called cover-up. You haven’t asked me who could be involved.”
Casey raised an eyebrow teasingly. “Oh? You think I don’t already know?”
“Do you?”
“Sorry. Top secret. Can’t tell.”
Marissa nodded. “I wouldn’t have thought Hunter would trust you so soon. Not enough to tell you what she knew.”
“Well, time is short.” Casey stabbed at the last of her beans. “And I am very trustworthy.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I doubt I’ll be around long enough to find out.”
“You’re leaving already?”
“As soon as the case is closed. I expect to be back in Boston by the weekend.”
“That’s a shame. And here I was going to invite you out on the town.” Casey shoved her plate away. “We may not come close to agreeing about this case, but I find you really attractive,” she admitted.
Marissa laughed. “Oh, my God. You’re hitting on me?”
“Call it what you like.”
Marissa leaned forward. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”
Casey smiled, their eyes meeting. “I haven’t asked you yet.”