I checked my lipstick in the mirror just as Tony and Liam pulled into the lot. They were together, so I wondered briefly what had happened to the rental. After all, it was being billed to my already-stressed VISA.
Liam looked pissed more than anxious and Tony was all business. We met up at the flagpole near the entrance to the single-story stucco building. The emblem of the PBSO was on the double glass doors leading into the station. As we entered, I smelled cleaning supplies mingling with coffee. There was a lone uniformed officer standing behind the counter.
He looked up and I saw recognition immediately register in his washed-out brown eyes.
Tony passed him a business card while I stood just behind the two of them with a death grip on my briefcase. “I’m Mr. McGarrity’s counsel and he’s come in voluntarily to speak to whoever is in charge of the Lopez shooting.”
The officer seemed at a loss for a second before he grabbed a phone and called for Detective Wells.
I stepped forward. “He was at my house this morning,” I whispered to Tony.
“Anything I should know?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t technically lied, more like a version of truth avoidance.
A buzz sounded, then the door opened and Wells, with Metcalf on his heels, came out into the lobby.
Metcalf’s eyes narrowed on Liam. “McGarrity,” he said, almost as if it was a vile curse.
“How ya been, Harry?” Liam asked, as if they were the best of friends.
But I knew that wasn’t possible. Metcalf looked like the top of his bald head was about to blow off.
The detective looked past Liam, right at me. “Miss Tanner.”
“I’m Tony Caprelli,” Tony said as he extended his hand. “I represent Mr. McGarrity, and Miss Tanner is my paralegal. We’re here to answer any questions you may have about the death of Mr. Lopez.”
“Deputy Sheriff Lopez,” Metcalf corrected curtly. “Let’s go into interrogation two.”
The three of us followed through the door, down a small hallway to an even smaller interrogation room. There was a table in the center of the room, a two-way mirror on one wall, and only four metal chairs. Wells excused himself to get another chair and I tried not to notice the metal loops used to handcuff people to the table. I had some bad handcuff memories that I didn’t care to revisit.
Wells returned and offered me the seat he placed at the end of the table. Liam and Tony sat opposite the two-way glass while Wells and Metcalf sat across from them. I retrieved my pad and paper as well as a small voice recorder.
“We’ll be taping this interview,” Tony explained after giving me a “good job” nod.
“So will we,” Metcalf said. He loosened his tie and depressed a button on the antiquated machine in the center of the table. He said the date, the time, and named everyone in the room. Then from rote he said, “You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Anything you do say may be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. Do you understand?”
“I think I’ve got that one covered.”
“If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. Do you understand?”
“Ditto,” Liam answered as he absently rubbed his side. I guessed the wound was not healing as fast as he pretended.
“If you decide to answer questions now without an attorney present you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney. Do you understand?”
“That’s a dumb-ass question.”
“Knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions?”
“I’m here, right?”
Wells reached into a drawer in the table and passed Liam a card, telling him, “Initial each and every right as they were just read to you and sign at the bottom.”
Liam did as requested and shoved the five-by-seven card back at the detective.
“I’d like it noted that my client came in of his own volition.”
“So noted,” Metcalf said.
“Where were you Sunday evening between five and eleven P.M.?” Wells asked.
“I was home until about nine thirty.”
Metcalf leaned back in his chair. “Can anyone verify that?”
“My dog, but he doesn’t usually talk to strangers.”
“Cut the bullshit, McGarrity,” Metcalf warned.
“No,” Tony responded. “My client was home alone until approximately nine thirty.”
“Then you went to Deputy Lopez’s home?”
“He called me and asked me to come over,” Liam’s voice dropped slightly and he seemed more somber.
“Was that a common occurrence?” Wells asked.
Liam shook his head. “I hadn’t spoken to José for nearly five years. He called from out of the blue and told me he had something important he wanted to tell me.”
“And what was that?” Metcalf asked.
“I have no idea. I got to his house around ten thirty and when I arrived I found José in a chair with a bullet in his head.”
“Are you saying he was already deceased when you entered his house?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get in?” Wells asked.
“The door was ajar. I went in, found him, checked for a pulse, and then someone took a shot at me.”
Metcalf tilted his head, conveying his skepticism.
Liam lifted his shirt. “Wanna look for yourself?”
Wells frowned. “We need to stop for a moment. Mr. McGarrity, do you require medical attention?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Tony said, overruling him. “I want his injury fully documented.”
“Wells,” Liam began angrily. “I want this over so they can move on and find out who killed José, ’cause it sure as hell wasn’t me.”
“Which will happen as soon as a doctor checks you out,” Tony said forcefully. “Call the paramedics. Now.”
Wells and Metcalf turned off the recorder and left the room and Tony immediately turned to Liam. “You have to stop antagonizing these guys.”
“I will if they stop treating me like a perp.”
Tony stood and rapped on the glass. “Privacy please. I want to talk to my client.”
“Does that really work?” I asked.
“They won’t risk violating attorney-client privilege. What’s the deal with you and Metcalf?”
Liam shrugged. “He used to be Internal Affairs.”
“Are you sure you can’t think of any reason for Lopez calling you last Sunday?”
“Not a one,” Liam said, then raked his fingers through his hair. “I told you this was a bad idea. Metcalf will do his best to link me to José’s murder.”
“That’s a leap, Liam.”
“Not for Metcalf. And I’m not stupid, look at the circumstances. I was there. I’m sure my fingerprints are on the doorknob and I could have left any number of footprints or fibers or other forensics at José’s. Once the shooting started I was more concerned with getting out of there.”
“And you didn’t see the gunman?”
Liam shook his head. “I can only say for sure that he was in the house. I booked out the back door and hopped the fence.”
“Did he chase you?”
“I don’t think so. But it wasn’t like I was standing around waiting for him.”
Tony rubbed his face with both hands. “And you didn’t return fire?”
“My gun was in the glove compartment of my car.”
“So you didn’t handle a gun at all that night?”
“It wouldn’t matter anyway,” I piped up. “Bleach and cleaning solutions and time make a gunshot residue test pointless.”
&n
bsp; Tony and Liam turned their heads and stared at me. Tony spoke. “Bleach and cleaning fluids?”
I felt my face grow warm. Apparently Ashley gave me up to the cops, but Liam had kept my involvement quiet. God, how stupid! I’d outed myself as complicit. “I helped Liam a little bit,” I admitted.
“Dammit, Finley!”
“Hey!” Liam barked back. “Don’t blame her. It was my idea. She didn’t know about what went down at José’s place. She helped me clean myself up after the shooting. That’s all.”
“You should have called me,” Tony admonished.
“I did,” I reminded him. “I put Liam on the phone under the impression that he would talk to you.”
“Right,” Liam said. “If you’re going to be pissed at anyone, be pissed at me.”
“I think I’ll be pissed at both of you right now.”
This was definitely not one of my better days.
Thankfully a team of paramedics came into the interrogation room. Liam stood and lifted his shirt. Aside from the bloody bandage, he was pure perfection. I was going to hell. Here the poor man was having a gunshot wound tended to and all I could think about were rippling abs and the way his jeans hung low on his hips.
And my selfish thoughts didn’t end there. Oh no, I started doing a mental comparison between Liam and his gorgeously bared torso and Tony in his custom-tailored suit. I was smack in the middle of any girl’s fantasy. Well, except for the fact that Liam was shot and we were in a police interrogation room. Minor details.
After some arguing it was decided that Liam would be taken by ambulance to Jupiter Medical Center. Tony offered me a ride, but I opted for my own car. Not only did I want the freedom of my own transportation, I still needed to talk to Jane to find out what the problem was that had her leaving me messages.
I could still hear the sirens of the ambulance as I dialed Jane’s number. She answered on the first ring. “Finley, where have you been? I’ve been stalker-calling your office.”
“Did you forget my cell number?” I asked.
“He told me not to tell you. I didn’t know if your cell was safe or not.”
“He who told you not to tell me what? And why wouldn’t my cell be safe?”
“Liam told me and I was afraid he might be with you and I didn’t want to get in the middle of anything until I talked to you.”
I was confused. “You talked to Liam?”
“He said he needed someplace to park his car. I let him have my space at the apartment. Is he okay? He didn’t look very good yesterday. I didn’t let on that you told me he’d been shot. Was that the right thing to do?”
“You were fine. He’s an ass for bringing you in on this.”
“On what?”
“Long story,” I replied as I turned down Military Trail, following closely behind Tony’s BMW.
“Is there a short version?” she asked, kind of irritated.
I let out a breath. “Liam sorta witnessed a murder. We’re all on the way to the hospital now. I’ll call you as soon as I can and give you all the details. Promise.”
“Are you in trouble?” she asked.
“With my boss, yes. With the cops, the jury is still out.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Save the employment section of the newspaper for me.”
We said our good-byes as I pulled into visitor parking. Tony was already at the door, waiting to hold it open for me. He still looked annoyed, but I no longer had the feeling he wanted to beat me about the head and neck. We entered an atrium and went to the volunteer’s desk for visitors’ badges. I cringed when they scanned my driver’s license photo, stuck it on an adhesive-backed piece of paper, and told me to wear it at all times. It wasn’t my most flattering photo. Especially not in blurred shades of black and white.
Wells and Metcalf were already in the waiting area. Neither of them had to wear nametags.
“He’s with the doctor now,” Wells said.
I thanked him. Unlike his partner, Wells seemed to be the more reasonable one. Metcalf had a terminal case of the nasties and I got the feeling I wasn’t on his good side. Actually I wasn’t sure he even had a good side. But I had to admit I was curious. He and Liam had a history and I could only surmise that it had to do with the shooting five years ago. The four of us sat in chairs, not speaking, sipping bad hospital coffee. When Tony excused himself to make a call, I was left alone with the two men. It was like a stereo version of a bad date with someone’s loser brothers. The silence was deafening.
“Finley?” Tony called quietly.
I stood and joined him at the end of the short hallway. “I’ve got to get back to the office. Can you stay here and let me know when the doctor is finished with him?”
“Sure.” Like I had any intention of leaving.
“I don’t want either one of you talking to the cops without me present. Is that clear?”
“I’m good, but I don’t know if I can keep Liam quiet.”
“If he opens his mouth, shove gauze in it if you have to. No one talks without me in the room. Got it?”
“Yes.”
I waited alone with officers nice and nasty for nearly an hour before a woman in scrubs carrying a clipboard came out and said, “Finley Tanner?”
“Yes,” I said, standing up with Wells and Metcalf hot on my heels. “I’m Finley Tanner,” I said, tilting my shoulder so she could see my badge of dishonor.
“The doctor is going to admit Mr. McGarrity, but he’d like to see you.”
I felt a surge of panic lodge in my throat. Admit him? Had Ashley and I done something that caused gangrene or some other life-threatening complication? What the hell did I expect? Super Glue and some Steri-Strips. Seriously?
“We’ll join you,” Wells said.
“No you won’t,” I said firmly. “Mr. McGarrity has nothing to say without his attorney present.”
“We’ll have to hear that from him, not a secretary,” Metcalf grumbled as a red flush ran up his neck.
I had my phone out and was dialing the office. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a secretary.” Wendy/Cindy answered the phone. “This is Finley, I need to be put through to Tony immediately.” I was following the woman in scrubs as we neared the curtain-partitioned portion of the ER. I quickly explained the situation to Tony, then handed Wells my phone.
Whatever Tony said to him worked. He handed me back my phone and grabbed hold of Metcalf’s sleeve. “We’ll have to wait.”
Metcalf’s red stain grew darker. “For how long?”
“Attorney said McGarrity won’t be available to continue the interview until he’s been released by the doctor.”
“That’s bullshit,” Metcalf snapped.
I turned and met his angry stare. “Well, it’s legal bullshit, so you can be on your way now.” Metcalf turned away. “Maybe now you’ll know not to screw with a secretary, Detective. Have a nice day.”
The only difference between a hospital room and a motel room is the motel room is cheaper.
seven
“Hi,” Liam said, greeting me with a lopsided grin.
“Yes you are,” I said, unable to keep from chuckling. He had on one of those hideous gowns with the hospital’s logo stamped on it—like anyone would want to steal one—and an IV running into his hand. Even morphined to the gills, he looked good. His color was better than it had been in two days. Whatever they were pumping into him was working.
“They cut through the Super Glue and put in stitches. I hate stitches.”
“And I hate having medical procedures explained to me,” I told him. “I know you’re loopy, but under no circumstances are you to talk to anyone except me or Tony.”
“I like talking to you more than Tony,” he said with a sensual grin He patted the bed next to him. “Wanna join me?”
“Wanna heal first?”
“Ah,” he said. “That wasn’t a no, was it? How long do I have to wait?”
Luckily I was saved from having to
respond by the appearance of a guy with arms the size of my thighs. His nametag was clipped to a crisp white polo shirt, as if Liam was about to be whisked off to some tennis match. “Do I follow you?” I asked.
He glanced at the pagerlike thing clipped to his belt. “No. You can meet us in room 347.”
I had to go back out to the atrium, past the gift shop with cheap but cute bangles in the window. I considered flowers, but that just seemed too sick friendish. Not appropriate for a guy who’d just propositioned me while in an altered mental state.
I stopped long enough to call the office and Tony told me to return once Liam was settled in his room. I waited for the floor nurse to take his vitals, left strict instructions that Liam was not to have visitors who weren’t from Dane-Lieberman, then I reluctantly left.
The bright late-afternoon sun was harsh as I stepped out into the daylight. I was so tired it felt as if it should be midnight, not a quarter to four. When I got to the office, an elderly couple was seated in the lobby and Margaret was back at her desk.
“You’re late,” she said in a hushed tone, her face all pinched and disapproving.
“Late for what?” I asked.
She nodded toward the couple and said, “That’s Mrs. Lawson, she’s been here for almost forty-five minutes.” As she spoke, she passed a nearly empty folder to me.
Crap. Vain Dane’s new estate client. When did this happen? And why did the widow have her boyfriend along?
“Give me five minutes, then send them up.”
“You can take them up now,” Margaret argued.
“Five minutes,” I said, this time with force behind it.
I raced to my office and turned on my computer. I quickly upped my bid on the links with only forty-three seconds left on the eBay auction. While I watched the countdown, I tidied up my desk. As I shoved a legal pad in my drawer, I remembered the notes Tony had given me on the Travis Johnson murder case. I was running on caffeine and residual adrenaline and it looked like it wouldn’t be an early night for me. I was also starving. As if in agreement, my stomach growled just as Mrs. Lawson and her paramour were shown into my office.
5 Bargain Hunting Page 7