The Girl Next Door

by Lisa Aurello

  “May I help you?”

  He held open his badge. “Detective Fitzgibbons and this is Detective Kelvin. We’re here to see Rafael Bono.” He pronounced it like the Irish singer.

  “It’s Bono,” she replied, smiling, “like Sonny Bono.” She dropped her voice to a loud whisper and said, “If you know who that is, because I do not. But that’s what Rafe says to people all the time.”

  Rob grinned crookedly, never hesitating to use his Irish charm on any female, regardless of age. Even his four-year-old niece wasn’t safe from it. “Is Rafe old?”

  She answered his grin with a smirk. “Older than me, for sure. Hang on and I’ll see if he’s available.”

  Rob almost retorted with a “he better be, ‘cause he doesn’t have a choice,” but decided he’d play nice at least until he didn’t. She shortly returned, and the detectives were ushered right into Bono’s office.

  Rafael Bono was not all that old. He was probably inching close to forty but he still had some time left before that milestone. Fitzgibbons eyed him intently. The guy was probably less than 5’8” but his confident posture said otherwise. He was dressed so impeccably in a tailored pearl-gray suit and crisp white shirt that his diminutive height didn’t detract too much from his impression. He was also very cordial to them. When Rob lead the way, following the receptionist to the palatial corner office, Bono came out to greet them, extending his hand and sporting a welcoming smile.

  “Good day, Detectives. Please come into my office.”

  Rob’s eyes bounced around the room before he took a seat where Bono indicated on a leather bench opposite his desk. He went around to the other side and placed his hands, fingers spread, on the desktop. “Tell me what you need to know. I want to help in any way I can to solve Cate’s terrible murder.” He clapped his manicured hand against his chest. “It was such a personal loss to us—she was superb at her job and an all-around great human being.

  As soon as Bono opened his mouth, Rob already knew two things: one, that Raphael Bono was gay and two, that in all likelihood he despised Cate Caldwell but kept her on because she was good at her job. Call it a cop’s intuition.

  “We’ll start with the basics,” Myla began. “How long did she work here?”

  Bono’s eyes shot up to the ceiling. Rob noted that they tracked to the right. It was important to note that since in all likelihood, he’d be telling the truth to this question.

  “Oh, it has to be more than two years at this point. I can pull her employee record if you’d like and tell you for certain.”

  “For now, don’t bother, but on our way out, if someone could look it up, it may prove helpful. Did you hire her yourself or did someone else?”

  “I did.”

  “Do you remember what struck you about her at the time?”

  His eyes went to the right again—honest answer. “Her roster of clients that she’d built up as a freelancer was impressive. That alone would have sold me but she also had a lot of personal style—she was actually a perfect fit for our agency.”

  Another question for an honest answer. “How long has your agency been in existence?”

  Up to the ceiling and to the right. “We’ll be celebrating our fifth year in March.”

  “What was her reputation here? Was she well liked?”

  “Hmm,” he said and this time when he thought about it, his eyes went to the left. Rob decided he wasn’t going to be truthful here. “I would say… that some people liked her quite a lot.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  He snickered. “OK, the men in particular liked Cate—she was very beautiful. The women…” He seesawed his hand. “…not so much. To be frank, Cate could be a bitch at times. She was also very direct, something not everyone appreciates.”

  “Anyone hate her enough to do her harm, in your opinion?”

  His hands fluttered. “God, no, not like that. I was referring to petty things, nothing that would involve murder, for God’s sake. One thing everyone appreciated about Cate was her knack for PR. She was so good that she made everyone else look good. Our agency is not the same without her. In fact,” he said, sitting up straighter, “I was pleading with her to come on board full time. She started working here only a couple of days a week and I kept asking her to stay later or come in on her days off. By the time she died, she was nearly at full time.”

  “Did she have any kind of affair going with any of the male employees?”

  A strange look passed over his face, and his eyes again went to the left. Another potential lie. “It’s not impossible, but I didn’t know of any. She had a pretty amazing husband.”

  Rob almost laughed at his comment. Was Bono attracted to Caldwell? “How many employees in your firm, sir?”

  “Currently, we have six reps and two full-time administrative people. We also employ three part-time temps.”

  Myla looked up from her notepad. “Does that number include Cate Caldwell?”

  “Yes. So I guess we have five now.”

  “Who else should we talk to?”

  Bono shook his head. “I don’t know that anyone could shed any more light than I have, but her closest female ally here was Bettina Ross.”

  “And male? Ally?” Rob prodded.

  “Male?” He laughed. “Well, there are three men and counting Cate, three women, excluding the admin staff—of the admins, Cate really only dealt with Emma on a regular basis. You might try all three guys, but I cannot promise results.”

  “All three in two years, huh?” Rob snapped his pad closed and turned his head to try to see outside the frosted glass wall. “Are they all here now?”

  Bono picked up his phone and pressed a button. “Tess, who’s in the office right now? Uh-huh. Kai is due back when? OK, thanks.” He looked at the detectives. “Of the three men, we have one here now, and one should be back in the office within the hour.”

  “And the third?”

  “Is in LA. He’ll be back Tuesday.”

  The two stood up and Bono followed suit. “Point us to the first victim, please—oh, and is there an office we can use?”

  Bono nodded as the three filed out the door. “You can use our conference room.”

  Fitzgibbons folded his large body into the black mesh chair directly across from Alex Yoyo Arroyo, studying him closely before uttering a word. His black hair was slicked back and his fingernails buffed. His most noticeable accessory, though, was his overconfidence. They guy had an air about him that Rob didn’t much care for. Arroyo was about thirty, a good-looking guy but spent way too much time on his appearance.

  “Rafe said you wanted to see me, Detectives?”

  These hipster types annoyed the fuck out of Rob, and he couldn’t understand why women would be drawn to a moron like this guy, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see his partner’s interest perk up as soon as the asshole sailed into the conference room. Rob couldn’t stop his smirk because he’d have sworn on a stack of Bibles that Kelvin batted for the other team.

  Maybe he should let her take the lead? He made a split-second decision to do just that and waited for her to pick up on it and begin. When she looked over toward him a minute later, he jerked his head.

  “Yoyo. Unusual name,” she started by commenting. “Is the nickname derived from your surname or because you play with the toy?”

  The darkly handsome man smiled thinly. “My name.”

  Rob watched his facial expressions as well as his body language. Right off the bat, he didn’t trust him—but then he’d probably say the same about everyone in this office. They were all fake to some degree. This guy looked as if he religiously worked out at the gym and spent all his discretionary income on clothes.

  “OK, Mr. Arroyo, we’re here to ask about Cate Caldwell. How well did you know her?”

  Yoyo shrugged and flattened his lips. “I knew her enough. Enough to know she was a cutthroat when it came to business.”

  “How long did you know her?”

  His e
yes went up and to the left. “Mmm, I’d say about as long as she’d been here. Cate was the kind of woman who attracted attention.”

  “Did you date her?” Myla probed.

  “Not really.”

  The detective huffed a chuckle. “I think my question warranted a yes or no answer. Yes, you did date her, or no, you did not? Can’t be both ways.”

  He sighed in annoyance. “Yes, I did date her but very briefly and at least a year ago.”

  “Was she married at the time?”

  “Not yet but she was getting ready to walk the plank.”

  “Is that supposed to be funny?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not a fan of marriage. Anyway, I suppose Cate saw it as a last fling—or at least I thought so at the time.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “She fooled around after she was married. Cate wasn’t the faithful type, I guess.”

  “No? Why do you think she bothered to get married?”

  “I dunno. I think in her way she loved Mason. And I doubt she’d leave him over a quick thing. But Cate lived her life at ninety miles an hour, you know? She was a force of nature.”

  “Really? Do you know who else she may have had an intimate relationship with?”

  “I can’t say for sure, but she seemed very tight with Jared. It’s possible it was innocent, though. I’m not sure.”

  “What ended your fling with her?”

  “Nothing ended it. It just ran its course.”

  “How long was its course?”

  He pursed his lips. “I guess about two months, give or take a week or two.”

  “Who walked away first?”

  There was an expression that flitted across his face too fast to read. “She did.”

  “Were you upset?”

  “Not really. I mean, I was taken by surprise that it was over so quickly, but I didn’t expect much more either. You know?”

  “No, I don’t know. Are you saying you expected it to last longer?”

  “Maybe.” His fingers tugged at his lower lip. “Maybe a little longer. Whatever, I guess I knew it was coming since she was getting married.”

  “All right, Mr. Arroyo, if you think of anything that might help us in our investigation, we’d appreciate hearing it. Meantime, if you were me, who would you question next?”

  A sly smile. “Jared Exton. Definitely Jared Exton.”

  The two detectives shared a look when Jared Exton swaggered through the door. He wore skintight jeans, a blue gingham Oxford shirt hanging out and Italian loafers with no socks. What Fitzgibbons really couldn’t forgive was the man bun on the top of the guy’s, holding his long sandy-blond hair in a messy knot—he thought they were ridiculous and emasculating. Just looking at Exton made the cop squirm in his chair. Total waste of oxygen and knowing that Cate had anything to do with him made her slip more than a few notches in his estimation—even further down than when he learned she was a cheater.

  About the only positive thing the detective could say about this guy was that he was attractive in a very specific way: blond, big green eyes, and lean girlish body.

  He seemed nervous in their presence. His eyes shifted rapidly between the detectives.

  “You need to talk to me about Cate?”

  “Have a seat please, Mr. Exton.” Myla gestured.

  He took the chair she pointed to and crossed his foot over his knee. Neither detective spoke right away, unnerving him. It was a time-honored technique that never failed to yield quick results.

  He uncrossed his leg and leaned forward. “How can I help you?” he asked, wiping his right hand on his pants.

  Sweating.

  Fitzgibbons cleared his throat and jumped right in. “How long were you and Cate Caldwell having a thing?”

  “A thing?” The spineless guy almost smiled.

  Fitzgibbons waved his hand in the air. “An affair, whatever. How long?”

  Exton shrugged. “Only a couple of months—if that. It was too intense, so it burned out quickly.”

  “Tell us about it.”

  Licking his lips, he appeared to choose his words carefully. “I knew Cate was married when I started here, but I was physically attracted to her nonetheless. She was beautiful, and I think every heterosexual man who ever met her was attracted to her.”

  “And?”

  “And I learned a few weeks later that she liked me too. We went out for drinks after work one night… her husband was out of town… one thing led to another.”

  “When did the two of you stop seeing each other?”

  He pressed his lips together and stared at Rob before he answered. “We hadn’t actually stopped. But Cate had told me that night—the night she was killed—that it had run its course.”

  “How did you take that?”

  His voice raised. “How do you think I took it?”

  “I have no clue. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  “I was upset, for God’s sake. I was falling in love with her—and to her I was just a side lay.”

  “All right. So how expressly did it end between you?”

  “It was ugly, I guess. When I didn’t agree right away to stop seeing one another, she got mad and started flinging insults at me and she… whatever. She left the office soon after.”

  “She what? You were starting to say something?”

  “She was just Cate being Cate—she could be a ruthless bitch if she wanted to, and she said really mean things.”

  “Did you insult her back? Yell at her? How did you react?”

  “I was upset, OK? I said things I didn’t mean.” He looked around the room and threw his hands up in the air. “This is fucking ridiculous. I didn’t kill her, for God’s sake.”

  “Do you know who did?”

  He shot up out of his chair, the volume of his voice rising with his anger. “No, I don’t fucking know who killed her, but I’d hazard to say that Cate got what she fucking deserved the way she walked all over people. Serves the bitch right.”

  Three hours later, they’d interviewed everyone who was available. There was only one admin and one temp in today, so they conducted those interviews as well. When the last one walked out of the conference room and closed the door, Fitzgibbons swung his tired eyeballs over to his partner.

  He arched his brows. “What are you thinking?”

  “Not sure. Exton is a possibility—it’s not difficult to get him riled up. We need to check his background carefully. The rest? Not so much.”

  “Yeah, but that Vanessa woman seemed awful peeved that Cate bought the same shoes she had—as if Cate saw them on her feet and then ran out to buy them.”

  “Hey,” said Myla, “she might have. Imagine the horrors of owning the same shoes and possibly wearing them on the same day.” She shuddered dramatically.

  Rob laughed and uncrossed his leg. Eying the room done in purplish gray and ivory with pewter accents, he felt twitchy just sitting here for a few hours. “Yeah, well, we needed to conduct these interviews, but I have to be honest—I can’t wait to get out of this place. It’s making me itchy.”

  “It’s all the negative karma floating around here,” she retorted. “You must be allergic to it.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Allergic or not, we have a killer to find.”

  Chapter 19

  Two days after Jane got the last of her medical paraphernalia off—the neck brace was the last to go—was a Saturday, and her doorbell rang at eleven a.m. while she was still in her pajamas: loose yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. All her clothes were loose on her except for the few things she’d added to her wardrobe since she got out of the hospital. Granted, they weren’t as baggy as she’d expected, given what everyone had commented about her former size, but that was a good thing since many of her clothes were still somewhat wearable. She headed downstairs.

  It rang again as she was on the last step. “Coming,” she sang out. Hurrying to the door and nearly tripping over the area rug, she caught herself just in time. That would
be my stinking luck, she thought. I’d go right back into some kind of cast or brace. “Who is it?”

  The voice was muffled but audible. “Not a gorgeous man come to plow you, unfortunately for you.”

  Jane rolled her eyes. Pulling open the heavy door, she greeted her friend with a frown. “Seriously, you need to get your mind out of the gutter. And what the hell are you doing here so early?”

  Mel was grinning like a loon. “You’re officially recovered, and we’re going shopping to celebrate. When you come back to work, you’re going to be a smokin’ hot babe, and everyone’s going to fall all over you in appreciation.”

  “They already do ‘cause I always trip them when they pass my desk,” Jane retorted. “It’s my only fun in life.”

  Mel’s brows pulled together. “I always wondered why everyone was always so clumsy around you. Well, you’re not going to have to trip people for them to fall all over themselves when they see you now, bella. You’re gonna be a hot mofo. C’mon, we’ll hit a few stores and then have brunch before finishing up.”

  Stopped at a red light, Mel’s eyes shifted to her. “So how are you doing lately? I haven’t been able to see you as much.”

  Jane nodded, her face somber. “OK… not great, to be honest. No new memories, my head’s still throbbing a lot, and I’ve been having nightmares. I think it’s because of this whole murder thing.”

  “Do you think you know more than you remember?”

  A long sigh escaped Jane. “I simply don’t know. I’ve racked my brain trying to remember, but I just don’t. I can’t imagine, though, in the short time I’ve been living here that I would have had any interaction with them—the Caldwells. I don’t even know if I knew that Mason was living next door. And that detective seems to think I know more than I’m letting on. I don’t like him—sorry, I know you do.”