Reckless

by Susan Kiernan-Lewis

  She pulled in next to his Jeep. “Morning, Detective,” she called as she gathered her bags and briefcases from the front seat. “What’s your dog’s name?”

  “I’m not staying,” he said.

  She bustled past him to open the front door. “That’s fine. I’m sure you have legwork to do while I’m handling paperwork. Is one of those for me?” she turned and plucked a coffee cup from his grip before pushing open the door with her hip.

  She’d never been in the store before now and it smelled musty. She flipped on the lights and found a desk wedged up against one wall to drop her bags onto. Dave had obviously used the place for storage. His kayak leaned up against one wall. Several boxes, empty as it turned out, were stacked high against another.

  Burton came in behind her.

  “The guy from the cable company will be out tomorrow to hook up the router and the phone lines,” Mia said, eyeing Burton and wondering what he thought of the place. He’d unsnapped the leash and now the dog was curled up on a flattened stack of cardboard boxes where it could keep both of them in view. “It’ll just take a few weekends of elbow-grease to get it into shape.”

  “If that,” he said, drinking his coffee and looking into one of the empty boxes. Every inch of his curiosity gave her hope that he would agree to the partnership. Her bravado last night notwithstanding, she knew she couldn’t bulldoze him into working with her if he didn’t want to.

  She pulled out a large plastic baggie from her briefcase which held the hi-ball glass from Dave’s kitchen. She set it on the desk.

  “What’s that?” Burton gave an extremely condescending smile. In fact, millimeters short of a sneer.

  “It is a glass I found in my brother’s condo upstairs.”

  “You bagged it?”

  “You can see that I have and once you’re through acting like an arrogant ass, I’ll explain why. If you’re still interested.”

  “Look, Miss Kazmaroff…Mia. It’s not that I don’t want to make things right with how Dave and I…ended. I do. There’s nothing I’d like more, but trying to uncover a murder where there was none is an exercise in futility.”

  “What if I were to convince you that he didn’t die of natural causes?”

  “How could you do that when the tox screen and the autopsy said otherwise?”

  “That wasn’t what I asked you.”

  Burton sighed. “Sure. If you can convince me it wasn’t an accident, I’m on board.”

  “Excellent. Well, please take a seat, Jack. This may take a moment.” Mia pulled a chair up to the desk and took a drink of her coffee. She placed the glass in the clear bag on the table in front of her. “Do you mind locking the door?” she said, looking up. “So we’re not disturbed?”

  Burton paused just a moment before getting up and locking the door and then pulling up a chair. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

  Mia opened her bag and pulled out a small pillbox. She set it on the desk.

  “You are very mysterious, Miss Kazmaroff, I have to say.”

  “Not my intention, Jack,” Mia said, opening up the pillbox. She held up a tiny baby blue tinted pill for him to see. “Do you recognize this?”

  He frowned and took the pill from her. “Molly,” he said. “Or Ecstasy.” He handed the pill back to her. She took it and popped it into her mouth, washing it down with a swig from a water bottle she pulled out of her purse. When she looked at him, his mouth was hanging open in horror.

  “Did you…did I just see…?”

  Mia turned and picked up the drinking glass and withdrew it from the bag. “I don’t have this in a bag because I’m trying to preserve fingerprints, Jack. I know your people checked every inch of Dave’s place for prints and found nothing except his.”

  “I can’t believe you just did what I think you just did!”

  “I know and I have to say having you here is a comfort to me since I’m not exactly sure what to expect from the effects of the pill.”

  “Why did you do that?” he bellowed.

  “Honestly, I need you to calm down, Jack,” Mia said, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. “I’m hoping to get an accurate assessment of the effects of this drug and it’s remarkably more difficult when you’re yelling at me.”

  A gentle feeling of wellbeing seemed to engulf Mia and she opened her eyes expecting to see a benignly beaming Burton. Instead, she was surprised to see him on his feet, his hands on his hips as if he were preparing to do battle.

  “I need an answer, Mia,” he said, breathing heavily. “And I need one right now or I’m walking out that door.”

  “No, you’re not,” Mia said, smiling easily at him, her feeling of confidence in him growing by the moment. “I’ve just taken an illegal drug that I have no idea as to the effects on my system. You won’t leave me.” She grinned at his discomfiture and covered her mouth to try to tamp down the burst of laughter that was bubbling up inside her.

  Oh! It had been so long since anything made her want to laugh until her sides ached. Just the look on his face made her want to howl with laughter.

  “Oh, stop! Stop!” she said, gasping, holding her sides and rocking in her chair. “The look on your face…!” And she rolled around the chair, trying to control herself but really not caring.

  “Any time now,” he said sternly, reseating himself. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”

  “Yes, yes,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes but reluctant to let the pleasure and the joy go just yet. She straightened up in the chair, careful not to touch anything but the glass. From what she’d read on the Internet, even normal people’s sense of touch was intensified on the drug. A more sensitive reaction to touch was the last thing she needed. With delicate hand movements, she addressed the glass on the desk in front of her but spoke to Burton.

  “I have a bizarre and largely handicapping ‘gift,’ Detective,” she said, feeling the effects of the drug course through her body like repetitive waves of pleasure and peace. “Have you ever heard of retrocognition?”

  She glanced at him and saw him pull in his shoulders. His face twisted into a scoff.

  “ESP?” he said, the derision thick in his voice.

  “No,” Mia said. “ESP has to do with knowing something without using any of your five senses. Retrocognition is knowing something specifically through just one sense. For me—and my mother—it’s the sense of touch.”

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t have to believe me,” she said, amazed that his skepticism wasn’t annoying her as it normally would have. “But it’s true. I can touch something and know who else touched it in the past and even what their mindset was when they did.”

  “And you’re going to tell me something about this glass?”

  “I’m going to tell us both something,” she said, reaching out and lifting the glass in both hands. “Before this moment, I only knew there was something funny about it that was different from the other glasses.”

  “Something funny.”

  “That’s right. I could tell it had been handled by a woman…”

  “Probably the police tech.”

  “Possibly.” Mia smiled. Burton was at least playing along with her. “But it was different from the other glasses. Its contents were also very different.” She put the glass down and sighed and then looked at him with a smile. “I didn’t know until this minute what made the glass different but now I do. It was a vehicle for the drug, Ecstasy. And not just a little bit.” Her smile faded as she looked at the glass. “But an awful lot of it.”

  The two of them sat quietly for a moment, not speaking.

  “How do you feel?” he asked her finally.

  She looked at him. “I’m happy,” she said. “I feel happy.”

  He nodded.

  “I guess that’s what Dave felt, too. Just before he died. Indescribably happy.” She shrugged. “Not a terrible way to die. Except it wasn’t his idea.”

  “The woman who washed the glass, you think
?”

  She looked up at him and felt the smile coming on again. “You don’t have to patronize me, Jack. I don’t mind if it takes a while for you to wrap your mind around what I can do. I expect that.” She leaned over and touched his wrist. He flinched but didn’t pull away.

  “How do you think I know so much about you? Your guilt? Your shame? Your anger?”

  “I don’t know. Just by looking at my face, maybe?”

  She laughed. “Everything seems funny to me at the moment,” she said. “Even things that I know aren’t funny.” She let go of his hand.

  “If what you say is true, does it bother you that your brother had Ecstasy?”

  “You mean does it bother me to think he used it to seduce women? Don’t you know it’s okay to love someone in spite of them not being who you wish they were?” She pointed to the glass. “The woman who poisoned that glass wasn’t a victim,” she said. “We need to find her but first we need to confirm what I’ve just discovered.”

  Mia stood up and stretched a kink out of her back. She felt like she’d just come back from a long trip. In a way, she had. Ever since she found that glass and knew there was something about it she didn’t understand—something crucial to what happened to Dave—she’d been restless to find the answer.

  And now she had.

  “You need to ask your friend, the medical examiner, to run a tox screen specifically for Ecstasy on Dave’s blood,” she said, not looking at him.

  “I can’t ask for crap any more. I don’t work there.”

  She turned to look at him. “I’ve done my part, Jack, and now it’s your turn unless you want to simply accept that my brother was killed by an overdose of Ecstasy at the hands of a woman. Call your friend. Tell her you’ll owe her one. That’s what friends do, Jack.”

  “I’m not leaving you right now.”

  “Of course not,” she said, smiling with all the hope and optimism that she’d ever felt before. “Because that’s what partners do.”

  Karen snatched up the phone before it skidded off the stainless steel table. She forgot that putting it on vibrate tended to encourage it to bounce around on slick surfaces when it rang.

  “Yes?” She hadn’t looked at the screen and now she was already annoyed with herself because she knew she was hoping it was him.

  “Is this a bad time, Karen?”

  “Oh, hey Trish,” she said, giving her assistant a nod to indicate he should carry on with the autopsy without her. “Give me just a sec to step out into the hall.” She hadn’t had time to even pull on her sterile gloves before the phone rang. It was just as well. Bennett was new and could use the experience. She settled on a bench in the hall and leaned her back up against the wall. “Okay, I’m good. What’s up?”

  “Oh, nothing really,” Trish said, but Karen heard the wobble in her voice.

  “What is it, Trish? Is it Keith? Did something happen?” Karen had known Trish since their days together on the equestrian team at Auburn. While they’d taken two distinctly separate paths since college, Trish toward marriage and serious Christianity and Karen to med school and serial relationships, the kernel of their friendship had somehow survived.

  “No, no, not really,” Trish said, her voice now coated with her sobs. “It’s my fault, Karen—”

  “It is not your fault, Trish! God! Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  Trish sniffled loudly. “Please don’t blame him,” she said. “It’s not me I’m worried about. He’s talking more and more about…”

  “About what, sweetie?” Why does she stay with that asshole? She could have had anyone on campus. What does she see in him?

  “Well, he was always this way about her only now he’s getting, well…obsessed.”

  “About whom, sweetie?”

  “Dave’s sister. Naomi or whatever her name is. She’s all he talks about and the things he says…”

  Crap. This isn’t good at all. What’s the matter with that psycho?

  “Do you think he wants to hurt her?” Karen asked, chewing a cuticle.

  “No, I…I don’t think so. I think he wants to…be with her. You know?”

  “He wants to screw her.”

  “Yes.” The tears came then for good and Karen knew there wouldn’t be much use in asking more questions. It didn’t matter. Trish was incapable of extricating herself from the situation and nothing Karen could say would help or make a difference.

  Unless you count just listening and being here for her ‘helping.’

  “Go on and let it all out, Trish,” Karen said, her heart breaking for her friend as she listened. “I’m here.”

  This was not at all how the morning was supposed to go.

  Burton swept the thick layer of dust and dirt into the dustpan then stood to survey the room. Mia was on the floor scrubbing away on a spot Burton was pretty sure was permanent. The dog had slept the entire morning, alternating between a pile of rags under one of the desks and Mia’s lap.

  They’d made decent inroads in sorting the small office out in just a few hours. He’d flattened the empty boxes for pick up by the complex garbage company and moved the larger desk so that it faced the front window. They’d discovered a smaller desk under the boxes along with two mismatched armchairs and a file cabinet.

  It still didn’t look like an office anyone would want to spend much time in. The front window faced the parking lot but gave little access to sunlight beyond what was required to illuminate the small waiting area.

  Wasn’t this madness? There would be no waiting area. There would be no clients sitting in that waiting area.

  He leaned on his broom and watched Mia hop to her feet and dash to the window, a clean rag in her hand. He watched as she energetically attacked the window, producing more streaks than eliminating them. He fought a grin that he had no idea was right below the surface.

  Was this just the craziest girl he’d ever run into? Taking Ecstasy to confirm that was the drug in the glass? He shook his head. No, she took it to prove to him that Dave hadn’t died accidentally.

  “Hey, you stopped working.” She was standing by the window, hands planted on her hips, glaring at him. There was a distinct flush to her face.

  “How you feeling?” he asked.

  “Isn’t it supposed to make me horny?”

  He coughed. “I don’t think it’s an aphrodisiac. It just lowers your guard.”

  “Well, check!” She grinned at him wolfishly and again, it was all he could do not to laugh.

  This was the second time in three run-ins with Mia Kazmaroff that he realized he was enjoying himself. He registered he was attracted to her. Who wouldn’t be? She had a killer bod and expressive, magnetic blue eyes. But it was more than that. He realized he was drawn to her. To her words, her expressions, the way her mind worked.

  I figure, Dave, if I can keep my hands off your sister for the next twenty-four hours, I’ll never owe you another thing ever again.

  “Hello? Burton?”

  “Don’t call me by my last name.”

  She dropped the rag on the desk and collapsed into one of the armchairs they’d uncovered. “Did you get ahold of your medical examiner girl friend?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “That really wasn’t the biggest part of my question, Jack.”

  “I called her when I stepped out for the cleaning supplies. She thought I was nuts.”

  “But she’ll do it?”

  “Probably. People tend to humor friends who are having obvious nervous breakdowns.”

  “Is that what she thinks is happening to you or is that what you think is happening?”

  “I hadn’t given it much thought.”

  “Liar.” She hopped back up and began to instantly jog in place, her full breasts bouncing up and down under her tight t-shirt. Burton gave a silent groan.

  “It's entirely possible,” she said, panting, “that I'm feeling the effects of this drug more intensely than most people. You know, because of my thing.”


  “What are you feeling?”

  She stopped and looked out the front window. The morning had morphed into a grey afternoon and it had started to rain. “Mostly that people are good and you, in particular, are good.” She turned to look at him. “But misunderstood. Although Carol did say you were dishy…or was that Edie? But I guess you don’t need paranormal abilities to see that.”

  Burton snorted. “Is that what you call it?”

  “What would you call it? If you were trying to be nice?”

  He went to pick up one of the empty coffee cups and put it back down again.

  “Dave once brought home a murder weapon from one of your cases,” she said.

  He looked up with interest.

  “He wasn’t keeping it. I think he just ran out of time and it was easier to bring the gun home. Anyway, when I touched it…” She shivered and turned from him. “Okay, you know what? Forget it. This is really killing my buzz.”

  “When you touched it…?”

  She wrung her hands and then shook them as if trying to get something sticky or unpleasant off her fingers. “Fine. When I touched the gun I could see what happened. I…I felt it. When I told Dave what I was feeling, he said that I’d just described the murder as it had happened.” She looked over at him. “But you don’t believe it, do you?”

  “I’m really not into ghosts and extra-sensory crap,” he said. “No offense.”

  She shrugged and sat on the edge of the main desk. “None taken. You know, rumor was that Dave was sleeping with your ex-wife.”

  Well, he hadn’t expected that. He walked to the wall to look at the thermostat. “I’ve heard that rumor,” he said. “Does this mean you’re still looking at me as a suspect?”

  “Would you be here now if I was?”

  He ignored the question and scooped up the dog in his arms. “How about you come with me and let’s pick up some sandwiches,” he said.

  Was it bizarre that he was in absolutely no hurry to leave?

  She picked up her purse and headed for the door. “Goodie,” she said. “We can stop by the barn along the way and see how my horse is doing.”

  “Where is this horse?”