Never Sorry

by Edie Claire

  She made her way back up to the front porch, and called out hesitantly. "Mike? It's Leigh. Are you here?"

  The only answer was an odd huffing sound, as if someone were having trouble breathing. Leigh ran the last few steps to the door and darted inside. Her own breath stopped cold.

  Tanner lay kneeling on the floor in the middle of the dark, cluttered room, his back toward Leigh. His body shook with sobs as he rocked back and forth, holding something in his arms. She stepped forward until she could see what he was clasping so desperately.

  Stretching out on the floor away from him was a figure dressed in a lime T-shirt, plaid polyester shorts, and comfortable shoes. Leigh bent down to see the woman's face, and regretted it immediately. The shiny heap of short platinum hair could not hide the pale face, the shocked, staring eyes. And nothing could hide the dark red stain that spread on the hardwood floor beneath her.

  Leigh stepped back. She had seen enough dead creatures to know there was no point in taking a pulse. Furthermore, her recent experience had given her a new instinct for self-preservation. Hands firmly at her sides, she stood quietly, watching Tanner.

  "She's dead," Tanner moaned between sobs. "I loved her, and now she's dead." His words were difficult to understand—he spoke as if to himself, giving no indication that Leigh was in the room. He continued to rock on his knees and ankles, holding the woman's upper body in his arms, repeating the same muffled phrases. As he rocked, Leigh could see that the woman's back was soaked with blood. Had she been shot?

  Leigh looked at him as she would at a wounded animal. She wanted desperately to comfort him, but there was nothing she could do. Stacey Tanner was dead.

  Chapter 11

  Leigh fought down her horror at the sight of another body and began to run her brain in the same autopilot, crisis-management mode she used with emergencies at her father's clinic. First: triage. Stacey was dead and that was that. As for Tanner, his emotional state was distressing, but there was no point in trying to pry him away from the body—he would only resist. She pulled a dusty wool blanket from its resting place over the back of a chair and wrapped it around Tanner's shoulders. His state of shock would be temporary, but his other, bigger problem might not be. Whatever had happened to Stacey, he had come in on the wrong end of it, and as the "feuding ex-husband" he had a good chance of topping the suspect list.

  Questions that would never have entered her head a week ago suddenly seemed paramount. Exactly how long had he been like this? Was Stacey already dead when he got here? Could he prove when he'd arrived? Was the body already stiff?

  She shivered. The last question would have to go unanswered. In fact, they all would. Tanner was in no state to discuss his situation rationally. Leigh took a deep breath and looked around. There didn't appear to be a gun lying about, or any other weapon for that matter. Could it possibly have been an accident? She wondered suddenly if there was anything in the scene that might wrongly incriminate him…

  An image of Maura Polanski—complete with her sternest tone—popped into Leigh's mind with a vengeance. Touch one thing, Koslow, and I swear to God I'll deck you.

  Yes, Leigh considered glumly. That's exactly what Maura would say. And exactly what Maura would do. She bent down and took another pitying look at Tanner. His eyelids were puffy, his face pale. "Why did you leave me, Stacey?" he mumbled softly. "Why?"

  Leigh straightened up. Tanner's problems were beyond her. For once, she was going to do the intelligent thing. She was going to get the hell out of there.

  She bumped the door with her shoulder and walked out, proud that she hadn't accidentally touched anything inside. She ran straight to her car, trampling weeds taller than she was, and took off. How far was the next house? Two miles? Three? It was at least ten miles to the nearest pay phone. Should she go straight there, or stop at the nearest cabin?

  The last question was answered for her when she realized that, like Tanner's place, the nearest two dwellings had no phone lines. She had driven about eight miles when she saw the first series of telephone poles, heading to the small cluster of trailers where she had stopped before. The boy was still playing in the yard, along with two other small children and the exuberant Rotty. The grandmother was nowhere to be seen. Leigh pulled her Cavalier off onto the road's nearly nonexistent shoulder. The children at first ignored her, but the young Rottweiler found the visitor quite fascinating.

  She rolled her window down partway as the puppyish but solid creature rushed at the car, barking madly. "Hey there, pup," she said soothingly. The Rotty stopped barking, put his paws up on the car door, and panted through the crack in the window. He seemed all right, but she'd been crossed by too many Rottweilers to trust one she didn't know. The grandmother appeared on the trailer's makeshift front porch, looking at Leigh suspiciously. "Excuse me," Leigh called out. "There's been some trouble up the road. Could you please call the police?"

  The woman scrutinized her company. "Anybody hurt?" she yelled.

  Leigh nodded grimly.

  "An ambulance too, then?" the woman asked matter-of-factly. Leigh nodded again. The woman turned slowly and disappeared into the house.

  Ten excruciating minutes passed. After an initial period of staring at her through the car windows, the children and dog had returned to their games. The woman herself had merely emerged, given Leigh a confirmatory nod that the job had been done, and gone back inside.

  Leigh slumped down in the seat, wondering how her situation could possibly have gotten so much worse so quickly. What had happened to Stacey? Why was she at the cabin? Tanner would never have asked her to meet him there. Not when he knew Leigh was coming. But Stacey hadn't been there alone. Someone else must have been there with her. The someone who had killed her.

  When a car from the Butler County Sheriff's Department finally pulled up the road, Leigh rolled down her other window and waved, anxious that her location not be overlooked. "There's been some trouble at the Tanner cabin," she explained. "I think a woman is dead."

  She led the deputy sheriff down the pathetic road, the Cavalier moaning at the repeat agony. An ambulance soon appeared as well, and the threesome progressed steadily. When they reached the cabin, none bothered to find parking spots, but merely stopped in the road. Leigh breathed a sigh of relief at seeing Tanner's truck in place. If he had taken off, they'd both be in trouble.

  She got out of her car, but nodded meekly when the deputy ordered her to stay outside the cabin. They couldn't get her back in there if they tried. Two state police cars soon joined the crowd, and Leigh tried to calm her nerves. Frank worked for the city squad; this was Butler County. With luck, the detectives up here could see beyond what hit them in the face.

  She remained obediently by the Cavalier while a woman in uniform questioned her, then searched both her and her car. For what? A gun, perhaps? Right. Like she could pack heat for ten minutes without shooting herself in the foot.

  Minutes seemed like hours as she leaned against the car waiting for something to happen, the phrases Tanner had uttered reverberating in her mind. I loved you. Why did you leave me? She shook her head to dismiss them, hoping Tanner was keeping his mouth shut now. The police would have to look beyond the obvious, all right. Way beyond.

  Finally, a stretcher was carried out the front door and loaded into the ambulance. She watched the door anxiously for signs of Tanner. The paramedics were probably working on him too—shock was a medical condition, after all. But what were the police doing?

  She got her answer all too soon. A trio of uniforms stepped out the door, Tanner wedged in between them. He was pale as a ghost, and not walking too steadily. The paramedics had fastened a clean blanket around his shoulders, and the officers were helping him down the porch steps. As they turned at the bottom, Leigh's heart sank. Of course they were helping him. It was hard to walk down steps with cuffs on.

  ***

  "Just so you don't think I'm hiding anything," Leigh heard herself say as she faced her new interrogator in the s
tate police barracks, "I'll tell you that I was falsely arrested in Pittsburgh this week, and am out on bond."

  The trooper's eyes widened. Joe Smitty was much more personable a detective than Frank, being in his early fifties and appearing to have some sense of humor behind his soft brown eyes and chubby cheeks. "Is that so?" he asked conversationally.

  Leigh nodded.

  "Falsely arrested for what?"

  She sighed. "For the murder of an acquaintance."

  The trooper's face lit up. "Of course! Leigh Koslow. I thought I'd heard your name before. The zoo murder. Nasty business. And they arrested you?" He smiled at her as if in collusion. "What do they know?"

  Leigh smiled back. He was probably playing a confidence game with her, but she didn't care. He seemed genuinely nice, regardless. "I can't talk about that, unless I call my lawyer—"

  "Of course you can't."

  "—and I don't want to pay her any more than absolutely necessary," she finished.

  Smitty laughed heartily. "No one would. I promise I won't ask you anything about that."

  She smiled appreciatively. Katharine would probably kill her for talking about anything, but she had to tell what she knew at the scene, or else she would look guilty. Besides, she wasn't a suspect here. No one had even bothered to read her her rights before questioning.

  "Miss Koslow," Smitty began, leaning back in his chair. Leigh's own chair was nicely padded, and there were no glass spy walls here. Next time she found a body, she would definitely try to do it in Smitty's jurisdiction. "Did you see or do anything unusual on your way to the cabin, particularly after you turned onto Barber Road?"

  "I didn't meet any cars going the other way, if that's what you mean," Leigh said helpfully. "But I did almost hit a dog. And a little boy was entirely too close to the road. They weren't being watched very carefully," she said reproachfully.

  The trooper smiled slightly as he took notes. "Did you make any stops between there and the cabin?"

  Leigh shook her head.

  "And how long were you at the cabin?"

  She considered. "Probably only about five minutes. It seemed longer at the time, but I really didn't do much except look around, put a blanket on the man, and leave. But I explained all that before."

  Smitty nodded, his smile widening as he finished his notes. "I'm happy to say, Miss Koslow, that your story checks out very nicely with that of Martha Rehn, the woman who put in the emergency call. And you're right, she does need to rein those kids in tighter. It's a good thing that road doesn't get much traffic."

  Leigh agreed tacitly. She liked this man. She got the feeling he liked her, too. At least he seemed to know she wasn't capable of murder. So what was Frank's problem?

  "One more thing, Miss Koslow, then I'll let you get back to those bozos in Allegheny County. Do you know anyone who drives an old blue Buick Century—the gas guzzling kind from the late seventies?"

  She searched her brain, but came up empty. "No. Why?"

  "How about a tan Eldorado, same age?"

  Leigh shook her head.

  "Thanks for coming down," Smitty said amiably. He stretched out a hand and shook hers. "I hope you'll come back if we have any more questions."

  "I'd be delighted," she answered, almost truthfully. Who knew? Maybe Smitty and Frank were golfing buddies and Smitty would put in a good word for her. She was just about to walk triumphantly out of the barracks when the opening was blocked by a familiar figure.

  "Koslow," the woman sighed, relieved. "At least you're moving the right direction this time."

  ***

  "How did you know I was here?" Leigh asked, impressed, as she and Maura leaned on the hood of her Cavalier in the parking lot.

  "A friend heard about it and called me," Maura answered vaguely. "I understand Mike Tanner's been arrested."

  "Well, of course he was arrested. Don't police always arrest the person who finds the body?"

  Maura looked at her sternly. "You don't know what happened. You weren't there. At least I'm hoping you weren't."

  "I wasn't." Leigh gave Maura the story in a capsule. She was clearly in debt to the Rottweiler—if it hadn't run in front of her, she wouldn't have been able to prove her arrival time. And her arrival time was of no small consequence.

  "Koslow," Maura said seriously, "You can yell and scream and defend this guy all you want, but if you ask me, it doesn't look good. You can't know for sure that he didn't kill his ex-wife. You said yourself they had a violent argument just yesterday—"

  "It wasn't violent!" Leigh said quickly. "Not on Tanner's end, anyway."

  "She could have agitated him," Maura insisted. "Ex-spouses have a way of pushing each other's buttons. Tanner's been under a lot of stress lately."

  "But he's not a violent person!" Leigh was suddenly weary of trying to understand Mike Tanner and his motives. She had come up to the cabin with the hope of straightening out how he felt about Carmen; now she didn't understand how he felt about Stacey, either. I loved you, he had said. Why did you leave me?

  And just who had left whom? She thought that Tanner had left Stacey. After all, why wouldn't he? The woman was a shrew from birth. Leigh had never liked her, and she couldn't believe he did either, not really. But there he had been in the cabin, crying, rocking her. Could it be? Did he still love her?

  "What are you thinking, Koslow?"

  Leigh shook her head. "I don't know what's going on in Tanner's head, no. But I know he's not a killer. If he were, Stacey would have been dead a long time ago."

  "You seem awfully sure of yourself," Maura said carefully.

  "I am. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find him."

  "No, you're not," Maura answered firmly. "Tanner has a busy day in front of him. You don't even know where he is—he could be in the hospital or the county jail."

  "He's been falsely arrested!" Leigh cried indignantly. "He'll need a lawyer, and bail money."

  Maura sighed. "Look, Koslow. You've got to stop taking personal responsibility for this man. You've got the hots for him—fine. But you've got to think about your own situation. He's been arrested for murdering his ex and he may be guilty. He may have had something to do with Carmen's death, too."

  Leigh's eyes blazed. "That's crazy! I was with him that whole night, remember? I'm telling you, he didn't kill anybody."

  "Then let him prove that. He's a big boy. He can get his own lawyer, hit up his own friends for bail. You've got to stay out of it. The fact is, anything and everything that ties you up closer with Tanner just makes you look guiltier."

  Leigh took a deep, sulky breath. Maura was right. She was having enough trouble saving her own hide. If she wasn't careful, she could make things worse for both herself and Tanner.

  "Fine," she said tiredly. "So what am I supposed to do now?"

  "Talk to your lawyer," Maura answered firmly. "Tell her everything that happened today. And if you go to see Tanner later"—she lowered her voice for emphasis—"take your lawyer with you."

  Leigh looked up at her friend. Maura had always been good at beating things into or out of one's head as needed. "Thanks for rushing up here," she said somewhat sheepishly. "I really didn't intend to make you rescue me at two police stations in one week."

  Maura shrugged. "Par for the course, Koslow."

  ***

  Leigh pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building with a heavy heart. She was free, but Tanner would be spending the night in jail. If, of course, he made it out of the hospital. It was wrong. Why should she get so lucky? Her cousin had jumped to pay her bail, and had the wherewithal to do it. Did Tanner have any rich friends or family? She doubted it. All she knew about his family was that they raised beef cattle in Alabama. And he'd never mentioned any close friends outside of the zoo.

  He was alone. Leigh parked, opened the front door, and headed for the stairs. Not that she was a health nut, but the elevator was slow and she hated waiting, even if it meant walking up four flights. Suddenly remembering
that she should be on the lookout for reporters, Leigh glanced around, but there were none to be seen. She began trooping up the stairs, but when her calves started aching by the second floor, she decided to take a temporary detour to Warren's. Maybe he had some of that great peach iced tea brewed up. Maybe he was even cooking dinner.

  She knocked on his door, subconsciously licking her lips. When she heard female laughter from within, she started to retreat, but the door opened.

  "Hey, Leigh!" Warren said cheerfully. He was wearing cycling shorts and a T-shirt, looking sweaty and flushed from exercise. Behind him on the couch sat an almost unrecognizable Katharine Bower, also in biking gear, and also sweaty and flushed. She was sipping a peach iced tea.

  "I'm sorry," Leigh said unconvincingly. "Did I interrupt something?"

  "Yes," Warren laughed. "In a few more moments I would have had Ms. Bower here turned into a first-class Democrat. She's lucky you dropped by."

  "It'll never happen, Harmon," Katharine quipped, not looking as if she felt at all lucky.

  "We've been biking up at Moraine State Park," Warren explained. "Great weather for it. Would you like some iced tea?"

  Leigh shook her head. "I can't stay. I've got to—" What? Call my lawyer? Right. Her lawyer was obviously having a good time on a Saturday afternoon. She didn't need to hear Leigh's problems this second. "I've got to do some work for Hook. I'm behind, you know."

  "Is that why you're back already?" Warren said casually, taking a seat on the couch next to Katharine. "Kathy said you were going to Tanner's cabin for the day."

  Now she's "Kathy", is she? "My lawyer and I will need to talk later," Leigh retorted. She wasn't telling her legal woes to anyone with good muscle tone. She would wait for the return of the real Katharine Bower, the one that was cool, composed, and uncomfortably dressed. Bidding the twosome a hasty farewell, she headed back to the stairwell to tackle two more flights. She was now not only depressed about Tanner, she was annoyed, too. Why did her lawyer have to have a thing for Warren? Lawyers should be celibate, like priests, so that they could concentrate on their jobs. She pushed her key into the lock with a vengeance, opening her door.