Under the Moonlight collection

by MaryAnn Kempher

  Mark looked at Nolan. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here. He’s lost his mind.”

  Jack glared. “When I told Mark I believed Diana knew more than she was saying, he said it made sense that the killer might be a woman, because only a woman would write ‘whore’ on another woman’s forehead.”

  Nolan’s eyes widened. “Nobody outside the crime scene knew about that.”

  Mark went pale.

  “Right,” Jack confirmed. “Nobody outside the crime scene.”

  Mark finally cracked. “Dammit. I went in, all right? I just wanted to talk to her, but I didn’t kill her, she was already dead.—I swear.”

  “Looks pretty bad for you this time, Barnes,” Nolan said.

  “I can’t go back to jail,” Mark said, “and I won’t.” He easily knocked Nolan out of his way and rushed toward the door before Curt could block him.

  “There’s no good way for this to end if you run,” Jack yelled at him. “You might as well give up now.”

  When Mark got to the door, he turned and began backing out of the office.

  “I won’t go back to jail. I’m not guilty of anything!” he yelled.

  Suddenly, a loud thunk passed through the room. Mark’s eyes flew open wide and fluttered, then he dropped to his knees. Gaga Albright was standing behind him, a thick phone book in her hand. She’d just slammed it against the side of Mark’s face. He fell, unconscious, onto the floor at her feet. She held up the book victoriously. “And you thought I should use the internet.”

  “You’re a hero, Ms. Albright,” Jack told her.

  “Yeah, yeah…save it for Hollywood, Jack.”

  Nolan handcuffed Mark while he was still unconscious and left him lying in the doorway as Gaga headed back to her store.

  “Now,” Nolan said. “What’s this about Candy’s friend, Diana?”

  “Well,” Jack said. “Besides her being a cop, that shoe,” he pointed toward his desk, “belongs to her. I think we’ll be able to tie to the print in the mud in Candy’s back yard, and to the tracks in the house, too.”

  “Is that everything?” Nolan asked.

  “Isn’t that enough? You have to admit it’s at least suspicious.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Sounds to me like Diana is a just a rookie cop who used poor judgment.”

  “You think that’s it?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah. I mean how much more evidence do we need that this guy,” he nodded angrily at Mark, “killed Candy? You need to leave Diana’s name out of this. Don’t think your nosing around Pike went unnoticed. The only reason you didn’t feel any repercussions is because he turned out to be dirty. This was all after Mr. Yellow Pages here was arrested for Candy Dashwood’s murder…and then released. And now, we have him in cuffs again. After all of this, you expect me to accuse a different cop? You don’t really know how to make friends here, do you, Jack?”

  “I’m not trying to make friends, Nolan. I’m trying to solve a young woman’s murder. Test the shoe.”

  “And what will that prove?”

  “That she was there that night,” Jack said, sounding exasperated. “That she was in the house. That her prints follow the murder trail.”

  “They were friends,” Nolan reminded him. “She could have been there to hang out the night before.”

  Jack had lost his patience. “Dammit—will you get it tested or not?”

  “Nolan rubbed his head. “Against my better judgment…yeah. I’ll test it. Just know, there is no good outcome here for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if I get it tested, people will find out and want to know why. If it’s a match, you’ve revealed another cop, a rookie one no less, within the department doing something they shouldn’t have done—and she’ll have to be reprimanded, not necessarily something people will pat you on the back for doing. You’ll look like you have some sort of grudge against the department. First Pike, now Macy. You won’t be very popular in this city.”

  “I don’t give a damn about being popular,” Jack said.

  Nolan picked up the bag. “I’ll get this tested and let you know what I find out.”

  “How long do you think it will take?”

  “A day or so.”

  Nolan nudged Mark awake, hoisted him to his feet and left. Jack and Curt following him to the police department to give their statements.

  An hour later, they were back at the office. After a few minutes, Curt stood and turned the television on. Pike’s murder was still big news.

  “Mute that,” said Jack. “Would you. I’m still pissed off I couldn’t prove Monroe or Pike had something to do with Candy’s murder.”

  “You still don’t think Mark did it?” asked Curt. “He admitted being there.”

  “I think Mark is an idiot who lets his crotch make his decisions; he couldn’t get away with murder if he had a manual to follow…I know it’s nuts, but I’m just not feeling it. Mark’s not a killer.”

  “Cases have been won with less evidence,” Curt said. “I mean damn—they have his DNA on her body, they had a fight…and he admits being there that night.”

  Jack pulled the crime scene photos from his desk.

  “Candy fought with her killer, but she’d have been no match for Mark.”

  “Do you think we’ll ever know who killed Candy for sure?”

  Jack didn’t answer.

  “What do you know for sure in all of this?”

  Jack shrugged. “I think it’s a safe bet that Elaine killed Pike, but that might never be proven.”

  “At least she didn’t get away with hurting Ms. Albright.”

  “True,” Jack agreed.

  “What now?” Curt asked.

  “Now, I go see Diana,” Jack answered. “And I find out if there’s anything she’s still hiding.”

  ***

  Diana’s surprise was evident when she opened her door to Jack.

  “Detective Harney,” she said. “This is a surprise. I don’t remember inviting you over.” Her tone was sharp.

  Jack walked in, his tone matching hers. “You didn’t. Question for you: why didn’t you ever mention that you were on the force?”

  Diana took a step backwards. “It’s not like it’s a secret,” she said nervously.

  “Isn’t it?” Jack said. “Twice now I’ve interviewed you about Candy’s murder, and neither time did you bother to tell me that you’re a cop. Don’t you think it’s an important detail to leave out?” He held back the details until he knew where the conversation would go.

  “Why does it matter?” Diana asked.

  “Because you knew the victim, and you didn’t remove yourself from the scene.”

  Diana’s eyes became glossy. “I recognized the neighborhood, but it wasn’t until I got to the address that I knew it was Candy’s home. I know I should have called it in, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I just rushed in.”

  “But then you saw where you were, and you stayed.”

  “I wanted to be in the loop. I wanted to know everything the detectives handling the case knew. The only way I could be sure of that was to stay.”

  Jack walked around Diana’s small apartment, stopping by the window again, and the desk beneath it. His eyes found the pictures of Diana and Candy he’d seen on his previous visit. He thought of the empty picture frame at Candy’s home.

  “I assume the detectives at the scene didn’t know you knew Candy,” Jack said. “Is that why you took the photo? So that nobody would see you in uniform, or was there another reason?”

  Diana sat on her couch, leaning back and appearing unperturbed by Jack’s.

  “It’s a nice photo. I didn’t really think about it. I was in the kitchen, saw it and took it.”

  “You admit it?”

  She shrugged. “Sure, it was after the crime scene photos had been taken, I saw no harm. It’s just a photograph, Jack. It meant more to me than it would have to anyone else in that house.”

  “But you tampered w
ith a crime scene, which is illegal. And I just came from Yvonne’s. I saw the shoes you dropped off for her to donate to charity. They’re being tested. What do you think will be determined? Maybe that it matches the print we found in Candy’s back yard?”

  Diana remained defiant. “Maybe because Candy and I were friends, and I was at her house long before she was murdered? I hope you were a better Detective when you were on the force. A missing picture? Dirty shoes? Armed with so much evidence I’m surprised you didn’t bring back-up with you.” Diana held up her hands, wrists together. “Oh well, dirty shoes. Arrest me now, if you must.”

  She smiled, obviously enjoying herself. “Is this the part where I confess? Well don’t hold your breath. You have no motive and no proof. You have nothing tying me to the scene, other than the fact that I’m a cop and the victim’s friend. Maybe, I’ll get my butt chewed out for investigating a crime scene of a good friend, maybe not.” Jack’s anger simmered beneath the surface. He suddenly realized how wrong he’d been about Pike and Elaine Monroe. “All in good time, Ms. Macy,” he said calmly.

  Diana glared at him. “You have nothing that ties me to that crime scene, Mr. Harney. Nothing but circumstantial evidence. Best of luck with that. See yourself out, please.”

  Jack left, barely able to control his anger. He knew his case wasn’t strong enough. And Diana was a cop…if he pushed his luck too far, she could easily arrest him for harassing an officer.

  He drove toward the office with her words echoing in his mind. You have nothing tying me to the crime scene…

  She was right. But she was also taunting him.

  He needed the murder weapon, or a direct connection to the crime scene that placed Diana there before she arrived with the rest of the officers, and he wasn’t likely to get either.

  When he arrived at the office, Curt was on his knees cleaning something off the floor. “How’d it go with Diana?”

  “She was arrogant and unapologetic…she had an answer for everything I brought up. I’m no shrink, but I think the woman is a sociopath.”

  “She’s another dead end then.”

  “Looks that way. I have a shoe print, which could have been left at any time and she admitted taking a photograph from the scene, which means nothing, really. What I need, but don’t have, is the murder weapon.” Jack looked at the floor, and at Curt on his hands and knees near the plant. “What happened here?”

  “Boris happened here - again. Boris got away from Mr. Bryan again and headed straight for the plant. I think he thinks it’s a windmill. Mr. Bryan walked over and picked him up, but tracked mud across the room when he left.”

  “That dog really is a menace,” Jack said, smiling. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the mess Boris and Mr. Bryan had made on their carpet.

  The pieces started sliding into place a little more.

  “I know that look,” said Curt, “What’s on your mind?”

  Jack opened his desk drawer and pulled out the envelope of pictures, spreading them across his desk. He tapped one of the photos. “This.”

  Curt walked over. Jack was pointing at Candy’s kitchen. “What about it?”

  “The photographs show that Candy’s floor had blood and mud on it…but look at this picture,” Jack pointed to one of the living room. “No mud in here, where Candy’s body was found.”

  “I don’t understand,” Curt said, “What are you getting at?”

  “There’s no mud in the living room, meaning Candy didn’t track it in through the front door and across the living room.”

  Curt shrugged. “So what? Maybe she came in through the kitchen door.”

  “But Candy didn’t have mud on her shoes,” Jack answered. “Her shoes were clean and neatly set near the couch in the living room. The mud would have been from the killer’s shoes.”

  “Yeah,” Curt agreed. “Or from Mark’s shoe, since he went in after the murder…or so he says.”

  “What about that foot print out back?” Curt said. “Couldn’t the mud be from the killer?”

  “But the shoe print outside was facing away from the house. In other words, no mud was tracked into the house.” Jack looked again at the muddy floor in their office, then back at the pictures, his eyes narrowed. It’s always in the last place you’ve looked, Mark had said…or the first.

  ***

  “Oh, Jack,” Yvonne said. “I can’t believe that.”

  “It’s hard to think about,” Jack told her. “But it’s becoming more and more plausible the longer I consider it.”

  They were back in Candy’s house, looking at the scene carefully, with new eyes.

  Jack walked to the kitchen, with Yvonne following. He glanced at the five knives sticking out of the block on the island, wishing Candy had grabbed one to fend off her attacker. He pointed at the floor. “See the mud,” he began.

  Yvonne looked, then quickly averted her eyes. The mud trail led to Candy’s blood on the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” Jack said, “that was insensitive of me.”

  Yvonne swallowed hard. “I’m okay…I need to know the truth.”

  Jack forged ahead, this had to be done. “The mud didn’t come through the front door, or it would have been on the carpet. And it didn’t come through the back door; there’s only one shoe print, and it points away from the house.” He pointed to the two plants on the window sill. “Do you see what I see?”

  “The plants?” Yvonne asked.

  “Yes,” Jack answered. “There were three plants. One ended up in the garbage. I think it was that plant that made all the mud on the floor, maybe it fell during a struggle. Do you see that half-ring there? I noticed it the last time we were here, but it didn’t register—looks to me like one of the other plants was moved. Why?”

  “Maybe it fell, too,” Yvonne suggested. “Maybe the killer, or Diana put it back,” Yvonne said. “Like the globe.”

  Jack winked. “I’m banking on it.”

  Jack took hold of the plant leaves and with one good yank, pulled the plant from the planter. Yvonne gasped. Jack reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a pen. He inserted one end into the barrel of the small gun that had been hidden beneath the potting soil.

  He shook off some of the dirt and looked it over. “This is what’s called a pocket gun…because it’s small enough to fit in one.”

  “Oh my God,” Yvonne said.

  With his free hand, Jack pulled out his phone and dialed Nolan.

  “Oh look,” Nolan said, sounding annoyed. “It’s a call from Jack Harney. Just what I’ve always wanted.”

  Jack smiled. “I sense you’re not glad to hear from me again.”

  “Gee,” Nolan said, “you think?”

  “You’ll change your tune in a second. I’m at Candy’s house. I think I’ve found the murder weapon.”

  Jack hung up his phone and looked at Yvonne. “Are you okay,” he asked.

  She leaned against the counter. “It’s a lot to take in. You think that gun was used on my daughter?”

  “Yes. I’m hoping it still has prints.”

  Jack reached out, placing his hand on Yvonne’s arm. She’d suddenly gone very white. “What is it?” he asked.

  Yvonne was looking behind him. He turned, shocked to see Diana holding a butcher knife, her face contorted into an ugly mask.

  An enraged scream erupted from her lips as she lunged toward Jack. He was unprepared for the furious attack. He grabbed Diana’s arm to keep the knife from striking, stunned by how strong she was. Yvonne backed away as Jack and Diana’s arms flailed about.

  Diana pulled her arm from his grasp, waving the knife as she backed toward the kitchen door. “It’s not my fault,” Diana said. “I tried to reason with her.”

  Diana looked less enraged, but Jack saw a glint in her eyes. He didn’t dare let his guard down.

  “I loved her…but she was always fucking worthless men. None of them were nearly good enough for her. She and I, though? We could have been so good together.”
>
  “You crazy bitch,” shouted Yvonne. “Candy trusted you. How could you do such a thing?”

  “She reeked of sex,” Diana answered, contempt clear in her voice. “She was disgusting…she should have loved me – me, not them!”

  “I’m sorry she did this to you, Diana,” Jack said, trying to keep her calm. “But you don’t think you’ll get away with this?”

  Diana reached her free hand behind herself and opened the door, still wielding the knife before her. “I didn’t mean to kill her…I swear. But I won’t go to jail for it…I just can’t.”

  Diana gasped as a strong arm wrapped around her neck. Jack rushed forward, grabbing the knife gingerly as Diana’s face turned red.

  “Hey Nolan,” Jack said, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Just in time.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jack sat at his desk on Saturday morning, watching the news. He looked up as Nolan walked into the office.

  “The PR department is going to have to work overtime,” he said, “and they still won’t be able to contain this mess. Between Pike being involved in shady real estate schemes and ending up dead, and one cops confession to a murder, that they’d already arrested a different cop for, not to mention her fingerprints all over the weapon…and to make matters worse, a detective who isn’t even part of the force anymore solving the case?” He shook his head, “There’s even talk the Chief of Police may be forced to resign over this.”

  “Is she talking?” Jack asked.

  “Diana? Oh yeah. Sure, she spilled her guts, but I have a feeling she won’t see the inside of a jail cell.

  “What?” Jack shouted.

  “I see a padded cell in that girl’s future.”

  Nolan grabbed a chair, he set in the middle, between Curt and Jack’s desks, then straddled the chair. “Murder,” Nolan said. “It always boils down to two things, doesn’t it? Greed or jealousy.”

  “You buying that?” Curt asked. “That she was in love with Candy?”

  “Sure,” Nolan said, “why not?”

  “All this time, we thought it was Mark or Pike,” Jack said.

  “You wanted it to be Pike,” Nolan said. “Look, I’ve been a cop for a long time and even I assumed the killer was a man, but if you forget for a moment that Diana is a woman, it all fits. She was obsessed with Candy; seeing her with other men drove her crazy, but Candy just wasn’t interested. Candy already had sex once that night, and was quick to tell Diana about it, which fueled Diana’s jealousy. Diana decides to tell Candy how she feels once and for all and heads to the house. Maybe she hopes the feelings are mutual…maybe she just wants Candy to know the truth. I don’t know. But when she didn’t get the answer she’d hoped for, out came the gun.”