The shower curtain – another floral affair – was pushed back, and appeared soaked a couple inches up from the bottom.
A feminine hand – nails painted a rosy shade of pink – dangled over the edge of the tub.
From this angle, Kathleen could see bare legs beneath the water, and from the looks of it, the body hadn’t yet achieved full rigor. That meant the victim had been dead for less than twelve hours, though the ME would have to make that call. When they got her out of the tub, the livor mortis patterns would give them a better idea of whether or not she’d expired in the position in which she’d been discovered.
A bath caddy rested across the tub, holding an empty glass of wine. A paperback novel, its pages sodden, floated, half-submerged, behind the shower curtain.
Steeling herself for what was likely to be unpleasant, Kathleen walked forward so that she could see the dead woman’s face.
And when she did, she stumbled back against the door.
Staring back at her, eyes wide and empty, was Mandy.
“Oh…” Kathleen swallowed down the bile that wanted to rise. “Shit.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
JUSTIN held his phone next to the footprint on his garage floor. The photos Kathleen had taken that morning were pretty clear, and to his untrained eye the prints appeared to be a match. He leaned back, while James peered over his shoulder.
“Looks the same to me,” James said. “Though I can’t tell scale from the photo. Did you happen to measure it?”
“Yeah, Kathleen thought of that,” Justin said, and located the image she’d taken after placing a ruler next to one of the prints. “The tread isn’t as clear here, but the outline of the shoe was better so it was easier to get the size. It’s the same as this one. Men’s twelve and a half. My shoe size.”
“Mine too,” James said. “But it wasn’t me skulking around trying to get a glimpse of you and the hot cop playing naked games. I couldn’t go anywhere, considering my car wouldn’t start. Alas, I was home alone last evening, with nary a brother for company.”
“You can lay off the ‘woe is me’ routine, MacBeth. I just changed your fuel filter.”
“Yeah, but it’s been a while since I manipulated you with guilt. You were always the easiest mark in the family. A sad look, maybe a quivering lip, and I could con you into playing with me for hours.”
Remembering endless games of Candyland and building tracks for matchbox cars all over the house, Justin eyed his brother. “You were a brat. You’re still a brat.”
“True. But you love me.”
Because he did, worry was a near-constant companion. “You’ve been setting the alarm?”
“Yeah, and I’ve got my gun. But it’s been quiet as a crypt around here. What do you make of this?” James gestured to the shoe print. “The fact that it’s a man’s shoe, I mean. That sort of messes up the theory about your psycho ex being the one who’s been skulking around, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Justin admitted, and felt the uncertainty twist his gut. “I don’t know what to think. Kathleen is concerned about this guy, the guy who was having the affair with his brother’s wife and supposedly conspired with her to kill him, but I can’t see how he would have connected her with me. And the rest of it – the coffee, the shower curtain, the cameras. The sugar in the gas tank. That makes no sense. What would he get out of messing with me like that?”
James was quiet for a moment, his breath forming a cloud in the chill of the garage.
“What about the ex? Kathleen’s ex, I mean.”
“Corelli?” Justin shook his head. “I can’t see it.”
“Dude decked you.” James nodded toward Justin’s eye, which had mostly faded to yellow. “He was here. That night.” He pointed to the shoeprint. “You ran into him on the beach right before you found the coffee. He’s a PI, so he knows how to pick locks, almost certainly knows about surveillance cameras. He definitely knows where Kathleen lives. And I imagine his shoe size is relatively comparable.”
Justin opened his mouth, closed it. It made a sick sort of sense. But…
“No,” Justin said. “There’s no way he would have had time to sneak into the house that night and shred the shower curtain. I was with him most of that time, remember? And anyway.” He shook his head. “Corelli’s too straightforward. I made a move on what he perceived to be his territory, he punched me, then he moved on. He and Kathleen were never that serious.”
“Are you sure you just don’t want to think that?”
Frustrated, Justin forced himself to consider it. True, he could barely stand to think about the fact that the man had been involved with Kathleen at all, but he pushed aside the possessiveness that wanted to cloud his logic. And when he recalled the things both Kathleen and Anthony had said, recalled their demeanor whenever he’d been around them together, he stood by his assertion that neither of them had taken their relationship seriously.
Which made him consider Kathleen’s demeanor last night. Hell, he didn’t even need to think about his own behavior. He was in love. Had been. Would be.
But Kathleen – had she ever looked at Corelli the way she’d looked at him, as he’d been moving inside her? They hadn’t said the words – Justin didn’t want to rush her – but… no. Maybe it was his ego talking, maybe it was wishful thinking, but everything in him insisted that last night had been special. For both of them.
He blinked when James snapped his fingers in front of his face.
“What?”
“Shit,” James muttered. “I knew it. I’m gonna be the last son standing. I better move to China or something, or Mom will drive me crazy.”
“China’s not far enough,” Justin determined. “Maybe they’ll colonize Mars.”
He smiled when James groaned and dropped his head back on his shoulders.
“Hey.”
At the light rap on the open door, Justin turned around to find Kathleen standing in the doorway. Backlit, her hair was a shiny red halo around her head, and pleasure rushed through him. He hadn’t heard from her since that morning, so her appearance was as unexpected as it was welcome.
“Hey yourself,” he said, while James gave a little wave.
“Hi Kathleen,” he said, his tone a bit resigned. “I was just…” He pointed out the open door. “Leaving. Good to see you.”
She murmured a greeting as he brushed past.
When she turned back around, Justin got his first good look at her face.
“What?” he said, concern replacing the pleasure. “What happened?”
Kathleen hesitated, then shut the door before stepping fully into the garage. Her face was pale, her mouth grim.
“What?” he repeated, moving toward her.
“Justin.” Her eyes were oddly blank. “The call I got. This morning. I’m sorry, but the only way I know how to do this is to just say it. It was Mandy.”
It took his brain a moment to compute what she said. “What?”
“Mandy,” Kathleen repeated. “She’s dead.”
Emotions warred in him. Shock. Loss. Guilt. And to his dismay, a tiny, tiny thread of relief.
“How…?” He couldn’t quite finish the sentence. It seemed macabre. Insensitive. But he had to know.
“We don’t know yet. The autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
“But… you’re homicide. If you were called, then clearly she didn’t die of natural causes.”
Kathleen briefly closed her eyes. “There’s a possibility she committed suicide.”
Guilt took the upper hand, stealing his breath. “A possibility?”
“Some things at the scene suggested it. I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She swallowed. “I can’t tell you what those things are. Not while the case is active. For now, we’re treating it as a suspicious death, pending the autopsy results. Then we’ll know more.”
Staggered, Justin leaned back against the hood of his truck. “She filed a complaint against me. At the hospital. Harassment.”
>
“I know.”
His head whipped up at that.
“Part of the investigation,” she said. “It came up.”
“I wasn’t keeping it from you,” he said slowly. “I… last night, I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t want her intruding any more. I just wanted to be with you. Only you.”
“I understand.” Kathleen hesitated, then pulled her hand from the pocket of her coat. “I’m sorry.” She reached out, and he pulled her toward him.
The hug was fierce, but not nearly as long as he would have liked.
“I, uh…” She pressed her lips together as she took a step back. “I need to keep my distance. For a couple of days or so. Until this blows over.”
Pure shock made his lungs freeze up. When he got his breath back, he climbed to his feet. “You don’t think I… had something to do with this?”
“No,” Kathleen said. Then more forcefully: “No. But I can’t compromise the investigation by being with you. People know we’re friends. And some people know we’re… involved. Unless I want to be yanked off this case too, I have to handle this by the book. Which means I can’t tell you anything. And if we’re together, I’ll be tempted. To talk to you. Because I… care. Justin, you know I do. You know that.”
At the pleading look in her eyes, Justin could only nod. But he still felt dirty, somehow. It wasn’t logical, and he absolutely understood her reasoning, but it hurt.
Nothing to do about it, though.
“It’s okay,” he made himself say. “I understand.”
Kathleen stood there another few moments, her eyes searching his. Then she turned and pulled the door open. She paused, her hand on the knob. Finally, she looked over her shoulder.
“This is purely shitty timing, but I’ll kick myself if I leave here without saying it. When I said I care, that was a cop out. I do care, and I always have, but it’s more than that now. It’s… more.”
Then she was gone, and Justin was left feeling as if he were caught in an emotional storm.
Kathleen had basically just admitted that she loved him. Then walked out the door.
Mandy was dead.
From the sounds of things, he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t some kind of suspect. And even if he wasn’t, Mandy had still probably killed herself.
Maybe over him.
Had he driven her to that point? Or was she simply… unstable?
Either way, he still felt like hell.
When the door opened again, Justin looked up, but the silhouette was entirely too large to be Kathleen.
“I don’t know what just went down, but given the fact that your girlfriend just peeled out of here like the proverbial bat leaving Hell, I figured you could use a beer.”
Justin accepted the bottle from his brother’s outstretched hand.
“You know.” He twisted the top off. “I really could.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
KATHLEEN kept her expression blank as she looked into the red, puffy eyes of the women who considered themselves Mandy’s best friends. The antacids she’d chewed earlier left a chalky taste in her mouth, but hadn’t seemed to do anything to settle her churning stomach. The air in the nurses’ lounge seemed clammy, creating a medicinally-scented film on her skin.
Or maybe she was just sweating.
Frustrated with herself, she took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Mac had taken the lead, thank God, but that didn’t mean she could zone out. She had to keep her head in the game.
Especially given the fact that her actions would be scrutinized like something under a microscope due to her relationship with Justin.
Luckily, these two women didn’t seem aware of that relationship. Maybe Mandy had never mentioned her friendship with Justin to her friends, or maybe they simply hadn’t put two and two together. Either way, Kathleen was determined to act as professionally as possible during this investigation so that no questions could be raised after the fact.
“So, Thursday night,” Mac was saying. “You were at Dockside Bar and Grill with Ms. Hotchkiss until approximately ten p.m.”
“That’s right,” the woman named Julie said, dabbing at her running mascara. “We ate dinner, had a few drinks, trash talked. You know. A typical girls’ night out.”
“There were gift bags in Ms. Hotchkiss’s trash. Do you know anything about that?”
“Sure. We had a little party. At the bar, I mean.”
“So, not quite a typical girls’ night out.”
Julie stiffened. “I guess.”
“Was it Ms. Hotchkiss’s birthday?”
“No, nothing like that,” the woman named Cynthia answered. Her eyes were dry, but her short brown hair stood up in spikes where she’d been tunneling her fingers through it. “Mandy had been… having a rough time lately. Personally. We just wanted to cheer her up.”
“But she wasn’t depressed,” Julie added, shooting a censorious look at her friend. “She was just frustrated, you know? And really, more angry than anything. There’s no way she killed herself,” the woman insisted. “No way. She didn’t exhibit any of the signs.”
“Did she talk about being angry?”
“I’m sorry, but… duh,” Cynthia answered. “I’m sure you know that one of the doctors here was leveling false allegations of stalking against her. She’d been questioned by the police multiple times. Of course she was angry, and of course she talked to us about it. We’re her friends.”
“How was she dealing with that anger?” Kathleen asked, ignoring Mac’s frown.
The woman shifted her hazel eyes toward Kathleen, her gaze assessing. “The usual ways. She talked to us. She worked. Ate chocolate. Drank wine. I convinced her to consult an attorney, and she filed a complaint with the hospital administration.”
Pushing aside the fact that it was Justin against whom that complaint had been filed, Kathleen continued the line of questioning.
Chocolate and wine. Both had been found in Mandy’s apartment, and in her stomach. But that wasn’t all the ME had found in her blood.
“You’re right about the fact that many people resort to various stimulants or mind-altering substances during times of emotional stress. Maybe the chocolate, the wine weren’t enough for her any more. Maybe she tried something a little… stronger.”
“No.” Julie was shaking her head even as Cynthia said: “You mean drugs. Absolutely not.”
“Xanax is perfectly legal,” Mac pointed out. “As a nurse, she would have access.”
“And as a nurse, she knew better than to mix it with alcohol. No.” Cynthia shook her head again. “There’s no way.”
“We found an unlabeled bottle of Xanax – mostly empty – in her medicine cabinet,” Kathleen told them. But what they hadn’t found was a prescription. Or – and this was one of those loose threads that had pushed her and Mac to continue with the investigation – any evidence that the drugs had been stolen from the hospital. Their security protocols were pretty damn tight. But the meds had to have come from somewhere. Which was one of the reasons they were interviewing her friends.
“Any idea where she could have obtained it?”
“No.” Cynthia sat back in her chair, a look of shock on her face. “That’s… impossible.”
“Impossible?”
“Look, I don’t care how it looks, but Mandy wouldn’t risk her career like that. By buying meds on the black market, or stealing them, or whatever it is you’re implying. If she’d thought she’d needed them, she would have talked to one of the doctors. But she didn’t need them. Like Julie said, she wasn’t anxious or depressed. She was pissed. If anything, she was looking forward to more retaliation, not blubbering around all bummed out and definitely not suicidal over some jerk.”
Kathleen sat up straighter. “More retaliation?”
Julie closed her eyes, and a deep red flush crept up Cynthia’s face. “The, uh, complaint. Against Doctor Wellington. That’s what I was talking about.”
Her bullshit meter was
pretty much pinned, but Mac cleared his throat, preventing her from pursuing that further.
“The gift bags,” he said. “There were three, but only two tags. One from each of you,” he added. “Who else was with you that night?”
The two women looked at each other, their confusion apparent. “No one,” Julie answered. “It was just us three. I got Mandy a box of chocolates, and Cynthia got her the book she’d been wanting so that she could read it while she was off. I have no idea where the other bag came from.”
Kathleen frowned. It was that bag in which they were particularly interested. It was the size and shape to hold a bottle of wine, and they’d found the Xanax mixed with the remains of the wine in the bottle that had been sitting on Mandy’s kitchen table. If the wine had been a gift, and she’d mixed the Xanax into it, there’s a chance that the drugs had come from the same source as the alcohol. Whether or not Mandy had mixed the cocktail herself, and whether or not she intended it to be a fatal dose, remained in question.
Of particular interest was the fact that no prints other than Mandy’s had been found on the wine bottle or the gift bag. Perhaps Mandy had purchased it as a little present for herself, but they hadn’t been able to find any evidence of that.
“Who else was she close to?” Mac asked. “Do you know anyone who could have surprised her at her apartment later that night? Someone who knew about the ‘party,’ maybe wanted to contribute but hadn’t been invited?”
The women looked at each other again, then shook their heads. “Nobody I can think of,” Cynthia said. “Her family lives out west, mostly, and she doesn’t really hang out with anyone else. When she wasn’t working, she was with us, or up until a few months ago with Justin Wellington.” A look of disgust crossed her face. “I would suggest that maybe he had a change of heart and brought Mandy a little token to make up for all of the damage he’s done, but I don’t think he has a heart.”
“He’s already cozied up with someone,” Julie added bitterly. “She was hanging all over him at the coffee shop the other day.”
The Southern Comfort Series Box Set Page 144