Tart of Darkness

by Denise Swanson

  Beads of sweat formed on Dani’s upper lip as she struggled not to show her panic. Mrs. Cook had been diabetic and when her possessions had been turned over to Dani, she disposed of several vials of insulin and packages of needles. If the detective found out, would that make Dani the prime suspect?

  A flashback of her one and only visit to a police station nearly paralyzed her. She’d been seventeen, hanging out in the park with a bunch of friends when several of the guys had gotten into a fight. The police had arrived and hauled them all to the station to sort things out. Her father refused to come to the station, and with too much imagination for her own good, Dani had been terrified that the cops would never let her leave. What if Detective Mikeloff made that nightmare come true?

  Ignoring the sharp pain behind her right eye, Dani lifted her chin and, with as much conviction as she could muster, said, “Neither Ivy nor I have any reason for wanting Regina dead. I barely knew the girl, and Ivy certainly wouldn’t kill over a few nasty words or an inexpensive necklace.”

  “I’ve seen murder committed for a lot less,” Detective Mikeloff sneered.

  “Do you know when the insulin was given to her?” Dani asked.

  “Not at this time.” Something flickered in the detective’s eyes and Dani wondered what he wasn’t saying.

  “Fu—” she stopped herself. She had given up using the f-bomb when she’d agreed to have the girls live with her. “Crap!” Dani substituted the lesser curse for her expletive of choice. She’d been hoping she and Ivy could provide him with an alibi. On to plan B. If only she had one.

  “Look, let’s make this easy for all of us. You don’t want your friend to get in trouble because of something you did.” He looked between Ivy and Dani. “Just tell me what happened.” Sincerity oozed from his voice. “Juries are suckers for crimes of passion. With a good lawyer, you’ll probably only get a few years in minimum security.”

  Dani forced herself to quit hyperventilating and think. If Mikeloff could make a case against either of them, he would have already taken her or Ivy into custody. He was trying to trick them into confessing, but he really didn’t have any bait to put in his trap.

  “The scenario you paint would be great, if either of us were guilty, but we didn’t do it.” Dani crossed her arms and leaned a hip nonchalantly against the island. “So, unless you’re ready to arrest either of us, get out of my kitchen.”

  “Who do you think you are?” Detective Mikeloff’s expression darkened. “You can’t order me around.”

  “I apologize. I didn’t mean it that way.” Dani backed up, putting more space between them. She was increasingly convinced that something wasn’t right with the man. His slinky was definitely kinked and that made him dangerous. Frightened, she asked, “Uh, don’t police officers usually travel in pairs? Where’s your partner?”

  “I sent him on an errand.” Mikeloff moved toward her. “I wanted to do this by myself.”

  His smile sent a chill up her back, and she was about to grab the girls and make a run for it when she heard someone ringing the bell and beating on the front door.

  When Starr took a step toward the hall, Detective Mikeloff threw out his arms and growled, “Ignore that. No one is interfering with this investigation.”

  “Too late.” Ivy tossed her hair. “I texted my uncle Spence that you’re harassing us. That’s probably him at the door. And when he finds out you’ve been mean to us, he’ll kick your butt so far into the stratosphere even Google won’t be able to find it.”

  For a long moment, Mikeloff stared at Dani, his eyes glittering with malevolence, then he snarled, “You haven’t heard the last of this. This time, you’ll pay for your sins.” He whirled around and marched to the back door, muttering as he went, “You may have had all the power at Homestead, but now I’m in charge.”

  As soon as he stepped out the door, Tippi ran over and locked it behind him. They all took huge gulps of air, breathing as though they’d been deprived of oxygen for a week. The banging from the front of the house continued, but Dani and the others sank to the floor, unable to move.

  Ivy gasped, “I should see if that’s Uncle Spence.” But when she tried to stand, her legs wouldn’t support her.

  Dani said, “We’ll go get him in a minute. Just concentrate on breathing for a few seconds.”

  During Dani’s years working in HR, she’d developed a way of compartmentalizing her feelings. It had been such an emotionally charged atmosphere that the defense mechanism was the only way to survive situations in which her actions—actions she didn’t always agree with—affected so many people’s lives.

  It had been tough at first, but with practice, she’d learned to box off her feelings quickly, and now, within a few moments, Dani’s mind cleared.

  What had Mikeloff meant about paying for her sins and having all the power? Did it have anything to do with why his features seemed familiar? But who did he resemble? It had to be someone from Homestead.

  Mentally, she flipped through her coworkers and all the personnel and potential employees with whom she’d interacted. Most were in their twenties or thirties, so she tried to imagine a younger Mikeloff, but there was still only the slightest flicker of recognition.

  Did the detective have a relative who worked at Homestead or had applied for a position there? Had Dani done something that caused that person to lose their job or not be hired? If so, she, and maybe Ivy by her association with her, could be in big trouble.

  The clearly unhinged detective would need no other reason than payback for concentrating all his efforts in trying to prove Dani had murdered Regina.

  Chapter 7

  Spencer had spent most of the day with his boss, the university vice president in charge of safety and security. It had taken them all morning and into the afternoon, but they had finalized the campus’s new severe weather response strategy. After the tornadoes that had ripped through Illinois last August, the college administration had been determined to update their old plan.

  Once he had checked in via phone with his on-duty security officers and been assured that the campus was quiet, Spencer had shed his suit jacket and decided to walk over to see his niece. The Cook Mansion was less than two miles from the vice president’s office and the early June temperature was an ideal seventy-eight degrees. Central Illinois wasn’t blessed with enough perfect weather days to waste this one inside the cab of a truck, and his motorcycle was in the shop for a tune-up.

  Spencer had been strolling down the narrow sidewalk a couple of blocks from the mansion enjoying the warm breeze whispering through the leaves of the hedge maple trees when he’d gotten Ivy’s text: Crazy cop harassing us. He’s scary. Help!

  Wishing he had on his sneakers rather than his dress shoes, Spencer had broken into a dead run. He’d kept a careful eye out for cracked paving slabs, leaping over the buckled concrete. The last thing he needed was to fall. He’d had a bad feeling that seconds mattered.

  His niece’s message had screamed in his head as he ran, and by the time he reached the mansion’s front step, adrenaline was surging through his veins. His heart thudded louder and louder as he pounded on the door and rang the bell. All the while, hundreds of possible scenarios raced through his mind, none of them reassuring.

  Several long minutes went by, and when no one answered, Spencer tried the knob. Finding the dead bolt engaged, he resumed hammering on the heavy oak door. Given enough time, and the right tools, he could get almost any lock open, but he didn’t have either.

  With every thump of his hand against the wood, Spencer grew more and more agitated. Deciding to try around the rear of the mansion before resorting to plan B—break a window to get inside—he stepped off the porch.

  As Spencer started down the sidewalk, Ivy rushed out of the house and shouted, “Uncle Spence!” He turned toward her and she ran to him, flinging her arms around his neck. “This man forced his wa
y in here and he turned out to be a city cop, but he was really mean and Regina Bourne is dead and Dani and I are suspects.”

  Spencer patted his niece’s shoulder as he sorted through her run-on sentence. Any way you looked at it, what she’d said was bad news.

  Ivy finally stopped for a breath and Spencer asked, “Is the officer gone now?”

  “Yes.” Ivy’s head went up and down as if it were on a spring. “He tried to make us confess, but Dani said if he had enough evidence to arrest us he should do it. Then he got really mad and I thought he was going to hit her, but when you showed up, he went out the back.”

  “Funny that I didn’t see him come down the driveway.” Spencer’s stomach knotted. “And there wasn’t a police vehicle parked anywhere in sight. I would have noticed even an unmarked cruiser.”

  “He must have left his car on another block and walked through the neighbors’ yards.” Ivy clutched Spencer’s hand. “But why would he do that?”

  “Good question.” Spencer’s neck muscles tensed. Something wasn’t right.

  As Ivy led him into the house, she related the rest of their encounter with Detective Mikeloff. Spencer grew angrier and more concerned with each word. A cold sweat glued his dress shirt to his back. Mikeloff sounded like the worst kind of cop. One with no respect for the rules and totally out of control.

  Entering the kitchen, Spencer spotted Ivy’s pals Tippi and Starr sitting at the table. Both were staring off into space. Tippi’s normally fair skin was ghostly white and Starr’s darker complexion had a definite gray tinge to it. They were as shaken as his niece. What in the hell had the detective done to scare them so badly?

  He inhaled sharply and his senses were flooded with the yeasty scent of homemade bread. For some reason the cozy aroma made him even more upset. Fuming, Spencer looked around. Where was Danielle Sloan? She was supposed to be keeping these girls safe, but they’d been threatened while under her care.

  Okay. That wasn’t fair. From what Ivy had told him, he knew that none of what had happened was the Sloan woman’s fault, but his gut hadn’t gotten the message. Maybe it was for the best that he had a few minutes to calm down before talking to her. He didn’t want to scare her.

  Ivy tugged him to an empty chair and said, “Have a seat. Dani will be down in a minute.” When he raised a questioning brow, Ivy explained, “Once I looked out the window and saw that it was you on the porch, I told Dani it was okay to go upstairs to change. That awful man broke a huge bottle of expensive vanilla and it splattered all over her shirt.”

  That explained the second wonderful smell in the air. Spencer allowed the memory of his mother’s amazing baking to soothe him. She’d had warm-from-the-oven treats waiting for him every single day after school. One of the worst parts about his undercover assignment had been being unable to see his parents for months on end.

  He hadn’t realized how much he missed his family until he’d met Wally Boyd. The Scumble River police chief had been kidnapped by the motorcycle gang that Spencer had infiltrated. Hearing the man talk about his pregnant wife, Skye, and seeing the love between them had been the final nudge in Spencer’s decision to quit his job and never go undercover again.

  Spencer was still smiling from the memory when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to greet his niece’s landlady, but when his gaze locked onto the warm, caramel eyes looking back at him, all thoughts of Wally and Skye fled and a sizzle shot up his spine.

  Ivy hadn’t mentioned that her friend was so pretty. Maybe some idiots wouldn’t consider her appealing, but Spencer thought she was stunning. The naturalness of her beauty was like a cold glass of water after being forced to drink nothing but artificially flavored soda his whole life.

  The years of fake boobs, bleached-blond hair, and heavy makeup on the women who hung around the motorcycle gang made him appreciate Dani’s genuineness. And as she stared at him, Spencer felt a spark jump between them. Tearing his gaze away, he called on every bit of his training to keep what he was feeling off his face. Instead, he shrouded himself in his cop persona and kept his reaction under wraps.

  Danielle Sloan wasn’t at all what he’d pictured. Her dark-blond curls bounced as she moved and her creamy skin had turned an adorable pink on her rounded cheeks. She wore faded jeans that clung to every delectable curve and her soft-yellow T-shirt lovingly cupped her breasts.

  The last thing Spencer wanted was the flicker of attraction warming his chest, but he wasn’t sure how to douse the ember. Still, he needed to put out that flame, because after his disastrous marriage and acrimonious divorce, he’d vowed to stay away from women. Especially ones that made his heart beat faster. He’d been fooled before and would never be as trusting again.

  He winced as he recalled the whirlwind affair that had led to him marrying a woman he barely knew. Because he’d trusted her and foolishly thought that she wanted a home and to start a family as he did, he’d put her name on everything. Six years later, he was still trying to untangle their lives, not to mention recover financially from her duplicity. It would be a long, long time before he was ready to try a relationship again, so any attraction to Ivy’s friend was a moot point.

  Shoving away any lingering temptation, Spencer stood, held out his hand, and said, “Spencer Drake. You must be Danielle Sloan.”

  As if coming out of a daze, she sucked in a shaky breath, then said, “Nice to meet you.” Her expression held a strange mixture of strength and vulnerability as she added, “Call me Dani.”

  “Well, Dani.” Spencer reluctantly let go of her soft fingers. “I understand you had an unwelcome visitor. Ivy’s told me what happened, but I’d like to hear your version of the incident.”

  “Why is that?” Dani’s demeanor changed and her sweet voice became guarded.

  “Because I’m going to check into the detective that interviewed you, and I’d like to have all the facts before doing so.”

  “The thin blue line, right?” Dani shoulders tensed. “Ivy mentioned that you’re a retired police officer.” She looked him up and down. “Although you seem a little young to be collecting a pension.”

  “True. I recently left my position in law enforcement,” Spencer said carefully. “But as you pointed out, I wasn’t old enough to retire. And while I support my fellow officers and the good work they do, I would never cover up for one who has gone rogue.”

  The only person who knew exactly who Spencer had worked for or the nature of his previous job was his boss, the university vice president. And even she only knew a part of the truth. He had helped put away too many outlaw bikers to be safe. If it ever became common knowledge that he had been the Tin Man, a member of the infamous Satan’s Posse, the gang would descend on Normalton like an invading army. And they wouldn’t leave until he was dead.

  When he’d come out from undercover, the story had been circulated that the Tin Man had been shanked in prison and died. There was even a small marker on an empty grave in the penitentiary cemetery to prove he was six feet under. And it was best for everyone concerned that Tin Man was never resurrected.

  “I see.” Dani crossed her arms, clearly not really believing that he wouldn’t take a cop’s side against hers. “Would you care for something to drink? I could sure use some caffeine.”

  “You have to try Dani’s special blend of tea, Uncle Spence.” Ivy pulled him back into the chair next to her. “It’s absolutely scrumptious.”

  Starr grinned, her teeth gleaming whitely against her light-brown skin. “Especially with her homemade honey-roasted peanut butter sandwich cookies.”

  “Or her special mocha cupcakes,” Tippi added, bringing her small, pink-tipped fingers to her mouth and kissing them. “They’re to die for.”

  “Tea would be great.” Spencer smiled at his niece and her friends, then glanced over at Dani, who was putting a kettle on the stove. “But I still want you to walk me through the detective’s vis
it.”

  “If you feel it’s really necessary.” Dani’s lips thinned, but she nodded her head.

  Once they all were settled at the table munching on treats, Dani recounted her experience with the detective. Then after taking a sip of tea, she said, “That’s when you arrived and he stormed out the back door.”

  Spencer looked around at the faces of his niece and her friends and prodded, “He didn’t say anything else? Any reason he might be targeting Ivy or Dani?”

  “I’m definitely an afterthought,” Ivy said thoughtfully. “I think he sees me as more of a way to control Dani than a serious suspect.”

  “Why do you say that?” Spencer asked. Was his niece in denial?

  Ivy finished her cupcake, licked her fingers, and said, “He shouted something at Dani like, ‘This time, you’ll pay for your sins.’”

  “That’s right.” Tippi snapped her fingers. “I forgot that he also said to Dani, ‘You may have had all the power before, but now, I’m in control.’”

  “Do you know what the detective meant by that?” Spencer stared at his niece’s landlord.

  “I…” Dani didn’t meet his eyes. “No. I don’t really know anything.”

  “I remember something,” Ivy yelped. “Detective Dickhead seemed real mad about something that happened when Dani was working for the insurance company.”

  “Yeah.” Starr tapped her chin. “He said that Dani ruined someone’s life, and he accused her of getting rewarded under the table to do it.”

  “Did he have his facts straight?” Spencer asked trapping Dani’s gaze with his.

  “Not entirely,” Dani stammered. “I never received a penny beyond my normal salary.” She looked away, sweeping cookie crumbs into a pile and crushing them under her thumb. “But I was involved in many hiring and firing decisions which could conceivably be construed as ruining someone’s life.”

  “Tell me about that,” Spencer ordered, touching her wrist to stop her fidgeting. “Does any one person or incident stand out?”