Cold Blooded Lover

by Eliza Lentzski

  “Money,” Stanley countered.

  “The money is his—he’s the fancy doctor.”

  “What if there was no prenup? Wouldn’t she get half of it in a divorce?”

  I shook my head at the suggestion. “Not if the wife was the one cheating. No judge would award her a penny.”

  “So that puts the blame back on Mrs. LeVitre. Her husband finds out about the affair, he threatens divorce, and she promises to stop seeing her girlfriend. But he can’t trust her anymore—”

  “So she kills her ex-girlfriend?” I shook my head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Does it have to?”

  I cocked my head. “Have you ever arrested anyone?”

  “No,” Stanley admitted. “We’ve solved cases before,” he defended, “but sometimes that’s simply finding a missing person or exonerating someone who’s wrongly in prison.”

  I paced the length of the room and let my thoughts spill out.

  “Okay, so maybe Mrs. LeVitre threatened to leave him for Tracey Green, so he had to kill the competition,” I allowed. “But we’ve also taken Mrs. LeVitre’s word that she broke up with Tracey to reconcile with her husband. What if Tracey broke up with her instead, and Mrs. LeVitre poisoned Tracey to get back at them both?”

  “Kill her ex-girlfriend and frame her husband at the same time?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Wild theories, I know.”

  “Imaginative. But that’s not a bad thing with this job.”

  “Short of a confession, what else can we do?” I was beginning to feel the futile nature of the job.

  “Who drove the car?” Stanley queried.

  “Sorry?”

  “The rental car. The one Tracey Green got out of. Someone drove it away.”

  “That’s the million dollar question,” I sighed. “We find that car, maybe we find the driver, and the case gets solved.” I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not going to make me visit every auto salvage yard in the city, are you?” I worried.

  “Tempting. But no.”

  + + +

  “Careful. Careful. Steady hands.”

  I slowly lowered the small disc on top of three others in my galley kitchen in Minneapolis while Grace Kelly Donovan provided instruction from her kitchen in Embarrass, Minnesota with the help of a webcam. Once I believed it to be stable, I pulled my hands away, careful not to knock the baking dish.

  I exhaled in relief. The tiny tower of eggplant and mozzarella layers hadn’t toppled over. I wiped my unsteady hands on my makeshift apron, which was little more than a towel wrapped around my waist.

  “It must be serious if you’re cooking for her. Even more that she’s letting you,” Grace remarked.

  I laughed because she was so right. Julia didn’t trust her refine palate to just anyone.

  “Which is why it’s so important I get it right the first time,” I observed. “I want there to be a next time.”

  Sometimes it felt like our relationship had progressed at lightning speed, and yet we’d missed some important milestones.

  Grace Kelly sighed. “It’s so terribly romantic.”

  “What about you guys? Have you cooked for Rich? Or, an even better question,” I amended, “has he cooked for you yet?”

  “I cook for him whenever he visits—there’s not really a lot of food options in Embarrass. But we always order food when I’m in Minneapolis.”

  “I’ll have to get on him about that,” I said. “He should be trying to impress you—sweep you off your feet.”

  “Oh, I don’t need those bells and whistles. I’m just happy when we get to spend time together.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Grace. Rich is stupidly lucky to be dating you.”

  “I don’t know about all that,” she demurred. “Don’t forget the bread crumbs.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  I sprinkled breadcrumbs on top of the meal before tucking the baking dish into the pre-heated oven.

  “Now it just needs to heat up enough to melt the cheese and you’ll be all set.”

  I jumped at the sound of my apartment’s buzzer. It was a jarring noise and seemed louder than necessary.

  “That’s her.”

  I hit the intercom button to grant access to my building. I had a key to her apartment, yet it suddenly struck me that Julia didn’t have one to mine.

  Grace clapped her hands together. “Oh, I’m so excited!”

  I laughed at her enthusiasm. “It’s just dinner, Grace. It’s not like I’m proposing or anything.”

  The words were for her, but just as much for myself. It was just dinner, and yet I couldn’t do anything about the nervous somersaults in my stomach. I wanted to show Julia that I could do refined. I could handle being an adult.

  That I’d spent so much time abroad and had missed out on Basic Adulting 101 was sometimes a sore spot. While a good portion of the country had had the undergraduate experience to help them transition from their parents’ home into the real world, I’d had Uncle Sam, who wasn’t much of a teacher when it came to things like doing laundry or making your own meals.

  “Thanks again for your help, Grace.”

  “Hey, anytime. It keeps me from spiraling out of control on Pinterest. Good luck!”

  I signed out of the video chat program and queued up some soft dinner music. I opened my apartment door and waited in the threshold for the elevator doors to open and for Julia to step out.

  The ding that announced the elevator’s arrival had my heart leaping in my throat.

  “Shit.” I realized I still wore the bath towel around my torso. I quickly pulled it off and stashed it in my coat closet.

  Julia’s nude stilettos appeared first, followed by two long legs that disappeared beneath the fitted skirt of a short-sleeved sweater dress. The tan sweater material clung to her swaying hips and the swell of her breasts. The sleeves ended just above her elbows and accentuated the lean muscles of skinny biceps.

  She held a bottle of wine in either hand, one red and one white, which she held out for my inspection. “Since you refused to tell me what we were having,” she explained.

  “Only because I didn’t know myself. Plus, I know how much not knowing annoys you,” I grinned. I gestured grandly with one arm. “Welcome. Come on in.”

  I caught a whiff of her perfume as she walked past me and into the apartment. She smelled more delicate and more delicious than anything cooking in my kitchen.

  “It looks nice in here,” she observed, sounding mildly impressed. She gestured toward the sparse living room furnishings. “I hardly recognize the place without your stack of moving boxes.”

  “Yeah, I finally got around to unpacking those. Was probably living out of boxes for too long.”

  “It smells good,” she complimented.

  “I hope it tastes good,” I worried aloud. “I’ve never made this before.”

  “What are we having? Or are you going to continue to make me wait?”

  “Eggplant parmesan.”

  “That sounds lovely.”

  “Grace Donovan helped,” I admitted.

  Julia cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t have the poor girl stashed in a closet, do you?”

  “No. We video chatted.”

  “Do you and Grace Kelly speak often?”

  “Not enough, actually,” I said with a guilty frown.

  I finally got around to shutting the front door. “No overnight bag?” I couldn’t help noticing.

  “I decided I didn’t need one.”

  My features fell. “Because you’re not staying the night,” I anticipated.

  “No. Because I know how much you enjoy me in your clothes. I figured I could borrow something of yours to sleep in.” Julia cocked an eyebrow. “Is everything okay, Cassidy? You’re behaving oddly. Defensive, even.”

  “I just want to impress you,” I explained.

  Julia frowned and wrung her hands. “I worry I make you work too hard. I know I’m difficult to be with. It’s just one o
f the myriad reasons I’ve never had a relationship that’s lasted longer than a weekend.”

  “You’re not difficult. You like things to be just so, but that’s not being difficult. You have high standards.”

  “Impossible standards,” she snorted.

  “You said it yourself—nothing worth doing is easy.”

  She smiled knowingly and hummed. “Speaking of easy, would you like some wine?”

  I smiled. “Might as well since for once I’m not driving.”

  Julia rummaged around my kitchen drawers before finding a corkscrew. I was mildly impressed with myself that I even owned one.

  “What’s the latest with your Jane Doe case?” she asked as she deftly opened the bottle of red. I was pretty sure she could uncork a wine bottle blindfolded.

  I leaned against the kitchen counter while keeping an eye and my nose on the oven so I didn’t overcook dinner. “The LeVitres are at the top of my suspect list. They both would have had access to the Botox chemical, but I can’t figure out motive. Why would either of them have wanted to kill Mrs. LeVitre’s ex-girlfriend?”

  “It’s such a strange choice of weapon, too,” Julia observed.

  I hummed in agreement. “Unless Mrs. LeVitre poisoned her ex-girlfriend to frame her husband. Or they could have planned it together. Tracey Green poisons herself, but goes overboard,” I brainstormed aloud.

  “You should go to your boss; see if he thinks there’s enough for an arrest warrant, yet,” she suggested. “Arrest them both and see if they turn on each other.”

  “Captain Forrester is useless,” I complained. “He sits in his office all day, dusting his forest animals.”

  “Okay. Explain?” she prompted.

  “He’s apparently very into DIY taxidermy. His office is cluttered with all kinds of stuffed dead animals.”

  “That’s … morbid.”

  “I know, right? I’d hate to see what his house looks like.”

  “If your superior officer is lacking, you should go to the district attorney’s office,” she suggested. “Someone there can probably give you some feedback on the case. That’s their job.”

  As city attorney, Julia had once represented the city of Embarrass in criminal and civil cases. When David Addams had been sued for police harassment by a bar owner in Embarrass, it was her job to defend the police department. In Minneapolis, the city attorney only dealt with misdemeanors. Felonies were the realm of the U.S. District Attorney’s office.

  “I love this,” I observed. “I love you. I love being able to talk about cases with you. We make a great team; I always thought that, even back in Embarrass.”

  “And here I thought you had only wanted to flirt and annoy me.”

  I grinned at that. “That, too. You wouldn’t happen to have any contacts in the federal building?”

  “Only enemies,” she admitted. “The only time I worked for the prosecution was in Embarrass.”

  “So I shouldn’t throw your name around?” I chuckled.

  “Only if you want them to be difficult,” she observed. “Although I’m probably not on anyone’s radar in federal court anymore. Just a small fish in the pond.”

  “What you do is essential,” I argued. “Your clients don’t know how lucky they are.”

  “You’re very sweet.” She leaned in for a soft kiss. “I certainly know how lucky I am.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “It’s going to rain.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  Julia stared up at the partly cloudy sky. “The weather report said rain.”

  “If it does rain, it’ll only be a little mist.”

  Julia and I stood on Nicollet Island, an urban oasis on the Mississippi River in the heart of the Twin Cities. The small landmass was connected to the rest of the city by a series of bridges. In addition to being home to one of the most picturesque parks in Minneapolis, it also boasted a grand pavilion, popular for weddings and other planned celebrations. We weren’t there for a party, however; we were there to run.

  The morning was cool with the sun periodically hiding behind clouds, making it an ideal temperature for a run. I had always preferred swimming to running, but if Julia had been in another bathing suit we would have never made it to the pool. Her running capris were distracting enough. It made me want to lag behind just to enjoy the view.

  The look on Julia’s face had been priceless when I’d bought her running shoes earlier in the week. She’d inspected them as if they’d been an artifact from an alien civilization.

  “What are these?” she had asked me, practically poking the shoes as if she’d expected them to bite.

  “They’re for your heart. For running,” I’d told her.

  She had humored my request for a Saturday morning jog, although now she was skeptical that the weather would remain agreeable.

  I straightened my right leg and pressed against the top of my thigh, causing tension in my hamstring.

  “What are you doing?” Julia asked.

  “Stretching. And you should too or you won’t be able to move tomorrow,” I cautioned.

  I heard Julia’s sigh as I continued to stretch out my legs. “Remind me why I’m spending my Saturday morning here instead of in bed?”

  “You were the one who wanted to start working out more,” I pointed out. “I figured this was something we could do together.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of yoga or Pilates, dear.”

  “That’s not really my scene.” I stretched my arms above my head. “I’ve never been able to sit and breathe for very long. I gotta move.”

  Julia sighed again. “Well come on, Miss Motion,” she urged. “Let’s get this over with before I change my mind.”

  Not waiting for me to finish stretching, Julia shot off like a bullet from a pistol down the paved running trail; I had to hustle to catch up.

  “Hold up, babe, I advised. “Pace yourself. If you start out too fast you’ll be sucking wind before we even get started.”

  “The faster we run, the sooner we’re done,” she philosophized.

  “Not if you have to stop to walk,” I countered. “I wanna get in at least a 5K.”

  Julia grunted in response, but heeded my advice and noticeably slowed down. We eventually found an easy pace with each other. The running trail was just wide enough that we could run side-by-side. We’d have to run single-file if we came upon other walkers or runners, but for now it appeared that we were the only ones on the island.

  “What do you wanna do when we’re done with this?” I asked.

  “You assume I’ll survive,” Julia quipped.

  “You’re doing great,” I coached. “Just keep your body loose and focus on your breathing.”

  “I suppose this is a cake walk compared to the workouts you had in the Marines,” she remarked.

  “Every workout is easy compared to The Crucible,” I agreed. “But I was young and naive back then.”

  “What’s your excuse now?” she huffed. I could tell her breathing had grown more labored.

  “Less talk. More oxygen,” I replied.

  I probably hadn’t run a significant distance since boot camp. Although recruits were only required to run a mile and a half at a certain pace for enlistment, once on Parris Island that mileage turned into regular 3-, 5-, and 10-mile training marches, culminating with The Crucible, a 40-mile march over 54 hours.

  I blinked when moisture hit my eyelashes.

  “Tut tut,” Julia remarked. “Feels like rain.”

  “It’s sweat,” I rejected.

  I heard the sound of rain hit the leaves of the trees that surrounded us before I felt it on my skin.

  “Still think that’s sweat?” she taunted.

  “It’s just a little rain,” I countered.

  As if to taunt me, the rain began to fall even harder. It definitely was no longer sweat on my brow. Rainwater dribbled down my face, and my sweat-wicking t-shirt clung to my body.

  “I’m drowning,” Julia
complained.

  I spotted a covered picnic area not far from the paved running trail. I grabbed Julia by the wrist and veered her off the path until we reached the covered shelter, little more than a slab of cement with a roof. Rainwater poured over the edges of the steepled roof, looking more like a monsoon than a morning rain shower.

  Julia wiped the water from her face. “You’re right. Only a little mist.”

  “It’s only a passing shower,” I insisted. “This can’t keep up.”

  Thunder cracked through the grey clouds as if to mock me. I stared into the dark sky. Where had those storm clouds come from?

  Julia sat on the edge of the picnic table. “Now what?”

  “I guess we wait it out.”

  Thunder continued to rumble in the distance, and I saw the apprehension in her eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I shrugged. In truth, I’d been waiting for the next slip up, the next flashback. But unlike fireworks, there was no way to avoid this. Every place had weather.

  “I can’t be afraid every time it storms.”

  Julia was damp, like me. Disheveled. Hair clinging to the sides of her face. She hadn’t bothered to put on makeup that morning, knowing that we’d be going for a run.

  Her eyes narrowed when she realized I’d been staring. “What?”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She scoffed and tried to flip her hair, but it was pulled back in a ponytail.

  My steps were slow and deliberate as I eliminated the distance between us. I didn’t stop until I stood between her knees. I laid my hands on the tops of her thighs.

  “Cassidy.” Julia rested her hands on top of mine to stop their march to less innocent territory. She cast a furtive glance around our immediate vicinity.

  I nuzzled my nose along her damp neck. She smelled like a combination of shampoo and sweat. “We’re the only ones here,” I assured her.

  “Because everyone else had the good sense to stay home today.”

  “Exactly.”

  I snuck my hands up the back of her shirt. The rainstorm had caused the temperature to dip even more. That and the combination of cooling sweat had left her skin chilled.