The phone stopped ringing. Cassie had answered.
He wiped the end of the plug with a cloth, squatted down, and was twisting it in place when his wife appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Usually she came, pressed herself against him and gave him a sad kiss when he answered a call to work in the evening, but she stayed in the doorway. “It’s dispatch,” she said with almost a relieved look.
His knees popped when he straightened. “You’re happy I’m called out?”
“My boyfriend is coming over and it’s a good idea if you don’t meet him.”
“Your father? At this time of the evening?”
Cassie’s bottom lip turned down, but her eyes sparked teasingly.
“Maybe I’m glad, too.” Lute wiped his hands on a shop towel.
“Dad doesn’t hate you, he just loves me.”
“That’s a limp excuse for someone acting like he does.” Lute hung up the crescent wrench on the eye level peg board, one of the improvements Cassie planned to accommodate his six foot, nine-inch frame. She maintained he needed one place in the world that matched him. How she could be the daughter of such an aggravating man, Lute didn’t know. He patted her sturdy shoulder and brushed by to the phone.
“Lutavosky,” he said into the mouthpiece. He felt her hand rub his back right in the spot between his shoulder blades that always hurt, then her head pressed against it, and her arms encircled his waist tight enough to leave a warmth from the embrace long after he left the house. Firm yet gentle, when Cassie hugged, it was meant to last.
Static crackled in the receiver, and then dispatch responded. “Need you to respond to a request for a detective at 204, Cedar Village Apartments.”
“What’s the drill?”
“Female deceased.”
“On my way.” He hung up, turned to Cassie and wrapped her in his arms. “Sorry,” he murmured against her silky dark hair. So opposite of his sandy color that became more and more flecked with gray each day.
Cassie followed him into the bedroom and watched him change to slacks, shirt, tie, shoulder holster and jacket. When he was dressed and ready to leave, she finally spoke. “Bring home a gallon of milk.”
Knowing she remained silent because he still carried frustration at the lawnmower, he winked at her.
Dimples claimed Cassie’s cheeks. “I’ll take the mower to the shop tomorrow.”
“And I’ll try harder to understand how lonely your father is since Mom died. I’d be lost without you.”
“He needs me now.”
“So do I.” Lute’s words slipped out, and he hated the way her dimples disappeared. “Again I’m sorry.”
The doorbell rang. “Go through the kitchen.” She hurried away. The soft, diminishing pad of her flip flops carried back to him. Lute told himself to bring home a quart of orange sherbet along with the milk. A cold treat was a poor peace offering, but Cassie would love it, especially since the twins were now off to college, and she could delve into the whole tub herself.
After he rolled onto Aurora, Lute called dispatch. “En route – what do you have on the case?”
“Prelims indicate homicide.”
“Ten minutes to location.” He closed his cell phone and increased speed.
Lute drove north into the Queen Anne area, then west on Darvus Street, hung a right at Thorndyke, and climbed a gradual hill. Pre-Depression homes populated both sides of the street. Stately cedars, cottonwoods and Maples guarded them; hedges of hemlock and Japanese barberry hid them. Always alert to his surroundings, he noticed, with the help of the headlights, pears hanging like hard green grenades on their trees. Soon they’d turn juicy and golden.
The well-lit apartment village topped the crown of a hill. After easing over speed bumps, Lute tracked the apartment numbers while following a curve. Ahead and near several squad cars and the coroner’s van, a crowd, mostly young adults, clustered along the sidewalk; each curious to see someone else’s misfortune; all secretly hyped by the break in their daily lives.
Lute unfolded from his car and walked to an ambulance and EMT crew. “Sid, I was hoping to see you.”
Rawboned and healthy, Sid Galloway leaned against the red fender. He raised his blonde brows.
“We’re getting teams ready for basketball,” Lute said. “I want you on mine.”
“You still playin’?”
“Hard on the knees, but yeah.”
Sid chewed on his lip. “Who else? I only pop hoops for winners.”
“Me and whoever you find.”
Sid’s long drawn-out groan sounded behind him. Enjoying his own humor, Lute nodded to several officers by the doorway, and then climbed the switchback stairs to the second level.
Inside number 206, the stark living room held just the bare necessities: one recliner, one floral sofa, one lamp and a television. No pictures or plants to soften it into a home. The only hint of personality was a brass tray filled with partially charred incense sticks and ash. Whoever lived here didn’t like the smell and didn’t plan to stay long. The cheap carpet was matted in front of the balcony’s sliding glass doors. She spent a lot of time looking out the window.
A deputy coroner was in the kitchen area discussing the deceased with a tech, who was snapping pictures of the body by the entrance to the hallway; another tech dusted the doorframe.
After a quick acknowledgment, Lute ignored them and knelt by the body, using the moment to still his mind and study the beautiful, young Asian woman lying with her head at a grotesque angle. The coroner didn’t need to tell him the cause of death – severed spinal cord at a cervical vertebra. He checked for stress at the pressure points and saw only a slight reddening. Death had been quick. The perpetrator knew what he was doing.
The coroner stood back, allowing Lute his quiet assessment of the crime scene.
Lute finally asked, “Any sign of a struggle?”
“Butcher knife was on the floor. She tried to defend herself.”
“Think she did any damage?”
“No blood on the blade. Fingernails appear clean.”
“Next of kin?”
“The husband is a seaman on a freighter bound for the Philippines. The wall calendar has a big mark on the day he’s due home. We’ll notify.”
“Anyone else?” Lute hoped so. No one should die without somebody close.
“This little gal was a nursing mother. No sign of her baby. Crib’s empty and drawers yanked open. Looks like an abduction.”
Lute let that sink in for a moment. “Who reported it?”
“911 from a worried friend. Operator wanted it checked out. Officer Reynolds took the call from dispatch. He didn’t say anything about the infant. I told him to stick around.”
“He’s downstairs.”
The coroner scanned the room. “Guess, I’m ready to wrap it up.”
“Wait for Hal. He’s supposed to take a look.”
“Talking about me?” Detective Halstead solid bulk limped through the door. A perpetual frown cut his forehead and carried to his jowls. He needed to retire and wanted everyone to know it.
Lute needed him to retire. “What happened to the gimp leg?” he asked when Hal joined him.
“Soccer with overgrown grandsons.” Hal settled his weight square on his wide feet. With his index finger, he jabbed his glasses back on his nose and peered at the body. “Pretty little thing. What do we have on her?”
Lute ran through what the deputy coroner said, then added, “They’re ready to transport.”
Hal nodded. “Anyone see anything?”
“Haven’t gotten that far.” Lute turned to the deputy coroner. “Tell Reynolds to hang tight. I want to look over the apartment before I visit with him.”
“I’ll send the boys up to bag her.”
“I’ll be by the lab tomorrow – early.” Lute left Hal checking through a kitchen drawer filled with papers and walked down the hallway. Inside the master bedroom, he scanned for items to help understand why she died in such an bru
tal way. Husband is out to sea so scratch him. A boyfriend? The room told him nothing.
The ransacked nursery was a complete contrast to the starkness of the rest of the apartment. Drawers were pulled open and tiny soft clothes lay scattered on the floor. Rattles, pacifiers, diapers and a container of baby wipes had been swept from a changing table.
Where is the baby?
Hal poked his head in the door. “I’m finished,” he announced. “Coming?”
“In a minute.” Lute followed down the hall, but stopped at the balcony’s sliding glass door. The parking lot was clearly visible. Had she watched her killer arrive? Lute surveyed the apartment one last time before he dipped his head a tad and stepped through the front door. He dropped down the stairs two at a time and indicated the crew should proceed with the transport.
Hal was on the far side of the ambulance visiting with Reynolds. A few of the neighbors still gathered on the front lawn, talking with the policemen.
Lute stopped short of them and waited for Reynolds to excuse himself and join him. “See anyone leaving when you arrived?” Lute asked.
“No. Door was closed, but unlocked. None of the neighbors saw or heard anything.”
“Coroner thinks we have a kidnapping.”
“My understanding is that the 911 caller has the baby.” Reynolds pulled his notebook. “Teagan O’Riley. Address is in Ballard.” He handed Lute the slip of paper. “I don’t envy what’s ahead of you.”
Lute’s right shoulder raised and resettled, trying to get rid of a kink in his neck. “Better disperse the crowd.” He motioned to Hal.
Hal flipped open his cell phone. “I’ll contact a CPS caseworker.”
Teagan struck a match. Flames ran the length of the burner and glowed against the ceramic logs of her gas fireplace in hues of pink, yellow and blue. A bonfire on a beach calmed raw nerves like no place else, but inside a secure condominium complex, the rhythmic dance of ignited gas worked almost as well.
“I’m so glad those crabby little boys are finally asleep,” she said and sank into her favorite lumpy chair.
“I don’t want to hear a peep out of them until the two o’clock feeding,” Doretta muttered from where she sprawled on the pillow-backed sofa, sipping a glass of grapefruit juice. “After I wean Levi, I’m going to drink a whole case of Chablis.”
Knees crossed and foot jiggling, Teagan assessed Doretta’s remark.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Doretta said. “Judging eyes drive me nuts. I was just wishing for something to relax me. God, I despise worrying. I’m gonna kill Pai.”
“Maybe we’ll feed her to the sharks.”
Doretta shivered. “That’s gruesome.”
“I’ve never been so scared in my life, and I don’t mind telling you straight up like the old salts at the pier taught me.”
“If those sailors were here, they’d tell you to take a breath.”
Teagan sucked in air and blew it at Doretta. “Talking kills time. I used to talk to anything. Animal, mineral, vegetable. It didn’t matter. Hearing words aloud did.”
Doretta’s large eyes appraised her above the rim of the glass. She sipped the juice and puckered. “Why Ruby Red?”
“Healthy. What was it like to have a houseful of sisters? Were you the youngest?”
“The middle child.” Doretta sighed. “It’s a terrible spot to be in the pecking order. My older sisters told me how to act, the younger ones told me what to do for them.”
Through Doretta’s affected tone Teagan heard the love for her siblings, and again felt the loneliness of being a little girl kept apart – one that didn’t know the difference until she climbed down the maple. “But they were your friends.”
“No way. I hated them all, just like I hate Pai right now.” Doretta stretched her legs and re-crossed them at a different angle. Her rich skin gleamed in the firelight, so different than Teagan’s milky, freckled complexion.
“You’re such a liar.” Teagan glanced at the clock. “I just don’t understand why Pai hasn’t come back.”
“It’ll be all right.” Doretta cleared her throat. “Turn on the TV. We might catch something on the ten o’clock news. Maybe there’s a big tie-up on I-5.”
Teagan reached for the remote.
The door bell rang. Its loud ding-dong echoed in the moment her eyes held Doretta’s. Heart pumping, she hurried to answer. Leaving the chain in place, she cracked the door.
“Teagan O’Riley?” asked a very tall man dressed in a jacket and slacks. His voice was kind yet firm. “I’m Detective Lutavosky of the Seattle Police Department. This is Detective Halstead. We’re here concerning your 911 call.”
“Is Pai all right?”
He showed his badge through the opening. “May we come in?”
Teagan removed the chain and stepped back – Doretta suddenly beside her.
After the detective crossed the threshold, he asked softly, “May we sit down?”
Cops didn’t just come in and ask to sit down. Something was very wrong. “Tell me,” Teagan said softly.
A shadow of compassion drifted in his light blue eyes. “I’m sorry, but Pai Sanders was found dead in her apartment. Is her baby with you?”
One at a time, his words registered. The room tilted. Teagan grasped Doretta’s arm. She struggled to speak. Finally the words came, “Jimmy is in the nursery sleeping with my son. Pai was going to stay with me and went home to pack. I’ve waited for her since this afternoon. Are you sure it’s Pai, Detective Luta...?”
“People call me Lute. May I see her child now?”
“Of course, but I can assure you, he’s fine.”
“I have to check.”
Teagan led the way down the hall. At the door she whispered, “Please be quiet. It took forever to get them asleep. They probably sense something’s wrong.” She blinked back tears.
“I’ll be quiet, Ms. O’Riley.”
The only sound in the darkened nursery was the aquarium’s gurgling air pump. The sleeping babies were tucked in receiving blankets and lined up like sardines in Charlie’s crib.
Lute peeked at them, then tip-toed from the room. “I think it best if we sit down,” he whispered.
Teagan led him to a wingback chair and sat opposite on the edge of the sofa, hardly aware of Doretta curled into the corner clutching a pillow, or of Detective Halstead looking at photos by the fireplace; only Detective Lutavosky held her focus.
His sandy, gray-tinged hair lay combed to one side and his skin tones blended with his beige tweed jacket. He leaned forward, long hands dangling across his knees, as if he belonged in her living room at eleven-thirty p.m., discussing Pai – who was dead.
Teagan tried to form questions from the disjointed images swarming in her mind. Finally, her thoughts cemented. “How did Pai die? And why?”
“We’re trying to figure that out. Was anyone threatening her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know her friends?”
“You’re looking at ‘em,” Doretta answered. She tilted her head. The faint mewling of a waking baby carried from the nursery. “I’ll go, before Jimmy wakes Charlie and Levi.” She hurried down the hall as Jimmy’s squall grew louder. But it was too late. Charlie’s cry joined him.
“Please excuse me.” Without waiting for permission, Teagan fled to her son. She desperately needed to hold him, have a moment of privacy. Pai gone! How could that be? Unreal, so unreal. She gathered up Charlie and held him against her breast, inhaling his innocent smell.
“Steady,” Doretta said from where she stood by the changing table.
“The detective is going to ask me who killed Pai and why. I can’t answer anymore than he can.” Teagan wanted to mourn the death of her friend alone in her bedroom with Charlie in her arms, not in front of suspicious detectives.
“Putting it off,” Doretta said, “won’t make it easier.”
“I don’t want to hear that.” However, Teagan steeled herself and carried Charlie into
the living room. Detective Halstead still stood quietly near the mantle. And Detective Lute still relaxed in the chair, ready to assault with questions she couldn’t answer. She remained standing and met their analyzing stares squarely.
“A CPS caseworker will arrive shortly to take custody of the child,” Lute said.
Of all the things, Teagan expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them. “Pardon me?”
“Jimmy will be a ward of the state until his father arrives unless there’s another relative.”
It took her a moment to understand that he meant taking Jimmy to some stranger. “No, no, no. Pai wanted me to care for her baby. Her mom lives in Hawaii and Duffy’s folks are someplace back east. Pai signed a paper.”
Lute’s eyes hardened. “Why would she do that unless she was in danger?”
“Her labor was very painful and she was afraid.”
“She signed something during childbirth?”
At the sight of his incredulous expression, Teagan temper flared. “It hurts like hell to have a baby!”
“I know you’re upset,” Lute said calmly. “Just start with the paper.”
Yelling wouldn’t help. Teagan moistened her lips. “Pai was terrified. Claimed something was watching, even said some childhood dragons fought evil, for God’s sake.” The stupidity of what she’d just said stopped her from saying more.
Halstead moved from the mantel. “We have to take the boy or we’ll be fired by morning.”
“I won’t let you.” Teagan shook her head. “I promised Pai.”
“You don’t have a choice.” Hal walked down the hallway.
Teagan fired a look at Lute. “Don’t let him take Jimmy. The paper is signed by his mother, her doctor, and a nurse saying I’m to care for him.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when Hal rushed back down the hall with Jimmy howling in his arms.
Doretta stormed tight on the detective’s heels, cussing a livid string of words.
Teagan blocked his way. “His mother is dead! Leave him with people who love him.”
“Rules are made for situations like this,” Hal snapped. “Some people would do anything for a child. This baby needs protection. We do that by following the rules.”
Maternal Harbor Page 11