ANGEL'S KISS (A Dark Angel's Novel) (9 page)

Maloran shook his head. “Rookies. I should have known. I’ll have his badge.”

Then he sighed. “Well, now that you’re here, I’d like to hear your explanation. What’s your involvement in this case? Your associate here,” he said, jerking his thumb in Ottie’s direction, “won’t give me a damn thing.”

With a small smile to Ottie, and my hands still on my hips, I answered. “At the moment we are under no obligation to release any of our information to the police. We have a strict confidentiality policy to protect our clients. Plus, how can I have an opinion when I don’t know what’s happened?”

Maloran’s eyes turned challenging. Then he held out his arm in a grand gesture, allowing me to walk into the room he’d just left. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ottie take a step forward as if to protest, but I continued through the door.

I had to shade my eyes from the glare. Bright golden light hit me the moment I walked into the room. The walls, ceiling, and floor were covered in small, shiny gold tiles, like mosaics. Even the windows were draped with gold chains for curtains. I couldn’t focus on anything but the glare.

Then I saw Philip Janeck. He sat directly across the room at a glass-top desk, which showcased an overly ornate gold desk set to match the room. Janeck was naked, and his tan skin stood out in direct contrast to the golden glow of the room. His arms rested on the glass, and he held a gold pen in his right hand.

Janeck’s head was hanging down as if he were trying to see something he had written. I stepped closer to see what it was, but I stopped when I realized why his head was hanging so low. Someone or something had torn—not cut, but torn—his head almost completely from his body. It was just hanging by threads.

He looked like a wax figure in one of those old movies with fake muscle and meat curled upward and away from the roughly ripped skin. The injury didn’t look real because there was no blood anywhere. His young body was beautifully placed, with not one speck of blood to ruin the look of his sculpted masculine form. I remembered when I’d met Philip at the restaurant, the heat in my blood, how he’d whispered in my ear, “another time perhaps.” That had been so real. This scene was not. I kept waiting for someone to yell “CUT! We got the shot, everyone can go home now.” But Philip was home, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

My head began to hurt with a sharp, buzzing feel, and that’s when I realized that Philip hadn’t died alone. Mrs. Palma Janeck was all over the room, like she’d been tossed in different directions. Her arms were in the corners on either side of the large, gold-draped canopy bed, and then I saw her torso on the floor. I’d almost stepped on it in my dazed attempt to get a closer look at poor Philip. When I turned to get the hell out of the room I saw that her legs were in the far corners.

I slowly backed away, thinking that I didn’t want to get blood on my booties or disturb the scene. But again, there was no blood.

I’d seen enough.

The room spun, and the buzzing in my head increased to an ear-splitting shriek. I was on the verge of either passing out or screaming in pain when my forehead started to itch so ferociously that it hurt. At least the itch brought me back from the agony I was about to fall into.

The rubber gloves kept me from really scratching hard. However, I still tried to rub away the skin on my forehead. Pushing past Maloran, I left the room and didn’t stop walking until I was outside. I paced on the back patio, breathing deeply. But I felt horrible. My forehead still hurt and itched like a fire burned under my skin. I ripped off the glove and started scratching.

Her head? I hadn’t seen her head, and there wasn’t any blood. Had they been killed somewhere else? Why were they arranged, what had Philip been writing? My forehead burned and ached; I couldn’t scratch it hard enough.

Ottie caught up with me first. He must have seen something in my eyes because he stood back and held out his hands. “Whoa, girl. Take it easy. You look like you’re ready to lose it. Remember where you are and what you’re here to do.”

His voice seeped into me. “Ottie, have you ever seen that…that kind of... I don’t even know what to call it. Is it real? Ottie, tell me, have you ever seen anything like that?” I gripped my own arms for support as I waited for his answer.

“Yes, darlin’, I’ve seen my fair share of death, but this one even tops the shit I saw working for Uncle Sam. But Lexie,” he said in his deep southern drawl, “you have to get cold, logical; this happened on our watch.” He cocked his head toward the house. “I hear Maloran comin’, so take whatever you got going and shove it down. Deal with it later. You got me?”

I shook myself like a dog, cleared my throat, took a deep breath, and remembered my mantra: “attitude is everything.” When Maloran got through the door all he heard was me debriefing my employee.

“Ottie, do we know the time of death yet?”

Ottie gave me an impressed grin that Maloran couldn’t see and answered the question.

“No, ma’am, not officially, but I’d venture to guess it happened between three and six this morning. Riley found the bodies around
10:30
when he went to check on the Janecks after he noticed the front door open.”

I thought the ma’am was a little much, but what can you do? I wondered what had made Riley leave his post and go to the door. “Where’s Riley now?”

We both turned to face him when Maloran said, “We’re transporting him to the station for questioning.”

“I’m sure you understand that our lawyer will have to be present.” Shit, I sure hoped that Riley had enough brains to keep his mouth shut until I could get our attorney over to the station. I wondered how he handled seeing that scene, poor guy.

“Ottie, call Kim. Have her get in touch with Virgil Watson so he can be there when they bring Riley in. As a matter of fact, why don’t you go ahead and take off. I’ll stay here to help Officer Maloran with any information he may need.” Meaning that I’d stay and try to pick up some more tid-bits of information for us, while Ottie reassured Riley that we had his back.

“Got it,” Ottie said, giving me a salute. Then he headed off.

Maloran shook his head. “You’re already in enough trouble busting into a crime scene. Do you really want to stay around here and get into more trouble? What, you want to see the bodies again?”

“Thanks, maybe later.” I swallowed back some acid. That was the last thing I wanted to see again. “But I do have a few questions if you’re willing to answer some,” I said with my own sarcastic smile.

“No, but I have a few questions for you,” He took out a small note pad and prepared to take down whatever I said.

“I’ve already told you, we have confidentiality issues, so there’s nothing I can tell you.” I crossed my arms and mirrored his stance.

“This is beyond a domestic squabble, Alex. You need to tell me everything you know. Your firm is not equipped to handle a murder investigation. Hell, my department’s not equipped to handle this crazy shit. But we’re all those dead people have, so spill the beans. Why were you watching the house?”

Riley had kept his mouth shut, points for him. But Maloran was pissing me off.

“First, my name is
Alexandria
. Second, I don’t even know if those are my clients in there. Have you positively identified the bodies, Detective Maloran?” Shit, I was turning into my grandmother with the whole full name thing.

“Not officially, no.”

“Then I am not at liberty to tell you who my client is or why I was watching this residence.”

Maloran reached a gloved hand out, touched my forehead, and lifted my bangs.

“Jesus, your head is bleeding. I thought your hair was just wet with sweat, but a big red drop just landed on the bricks. Here.” He pulled out an old-fashioned handkerchief and pressed it to my head. “Sit down over here on the knee wall. You’ve had your own drama the last few days. Are you sure you want to get involved with this?”

Trying to bat his hand away, I said, “Is that a rhetorical question?”

He just laughed and held the hanky in place.

“I must have just gotten a mosquito bite or something; it just started itching, that’s all. So will you answer my questions or not?” I pulled the hanky away to look at it. Damn, I really was bleeding. I put it back up to my head.

“I’m curious about what questions you have, and I’d like to hear your reaction to the scene, so go ahead and ask. Maybe I’ll answer.”

I checked to see if I was still bleeding. Not as much, but my skin still itched.

“Okay. Where’s the head? Why isn’t there any blood? Were they killed in another room?”

He took a deep breath. “Nope, I can’t answer any of those questions. So do you have anything you’d like to tell me about your involvement?”

“Nope. Thanks for nothing, then. I’ll be on my way.” The bleeding had mostly stopped and I thought about handing him the bloody hanky, but I decided to shove it in my pocket instead.

“
Alexandria
,” he said, exaggerating my full name. “You know I can’t talk about an investigation. Hell, I’m already in enough trouble for allowing you to see the scene.” He took a step closer, and his expression changed to concern.

“Have you heard any more from the man who attacked you?”

I took a step back, almost tripping over the knee wall.

“You’ve got enough on your plate,” I said, motioning to the house, “without worrying about little old me. Good luck. If you need our help, you’ve got my number. I’m heading to the station to get Riley out of hock.” I pushed past him toward the side of the house; no way in hell I was going back in there.

“See you soon.” I waved over my shoulder.

“
Alexandria
. Mrs. Lewis. You’re not planning to leave town in the next couple of days, are you?”

That stopped me. We were back on formal ground, not a good sign. “Why?”

“Just covering all my bases,” he said with a fake smile.

“I don’t have any scheduled trips, but you never know where a case may lead. Do I need to consult with my attorney?”

“Oh, I hardly think that will be necessary, Mrs. Lewis.”

“Am I a suspect, Detective?” My head started to itch again. It wasn’t as bad as when I was inside the house, so I was able to ignore it.

“Everyone is a suspect until I figure this out.” Then he turned and walked to the patio door. “Don’t leave town.”

I took off the other way. When I got around to the front of the house, I noticed that the rookie had been demoted to directing traffic. A double homicide is big news in our small town, and it seemed like every neighbor and newshound was on the front lawn, waiting for a show to begin. Morbid curiosity is always a mystery to me. Maybe if we stopped splashing every gory detail on the news every hour the sickos wouldn’t try to outdo each other.

Knowing the things I know makes me wish I were naive again. I’ve seen my share of domestic violence, but nothing compared to the horror that was inside that house. I wouldn’t sleep tonight without a stiff drink and maybe a good cry.

I felt shaky, and I hoped that William had disobeyed my order to go back to B’s. The farther I walked away from the Janecks, the more emotionally tired I got. I was happy to spot William standing by the limo on the side street where I’d left him.

As soon as he saw me, he rushed to open the back door, and I hurried as best I could. If I could just make it into the car, I could fall apart in privacy. William helped me in and then walked around to the driver’s side. I was suddenly so cold that I started to shiver, but the car was warm from the afternoon sun and that helped. As I tried to hold myself together, William slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

“Miss Alexandria, where would you…” But as he turned to ask, he cut himself short. “Miss Alexandria.” The concern was obvious in his voice.

Pulling my knees up to my chest and closing my eyes, I tried to shut out the vision of the torso on the floor; I couldn’t even call it a person. I started to laugh, tense with shock. I shook with laughter and nervous energy.

“Miss, you’re bleeding and you’re as pale as a ghost. I’ll get the first aid kit. Just hold on, everything will be all right.”

William retrieved the first aid kit and got in the back with me. The antiseptic that he cleaned my forehead burned my skin, and cleared out much of the fog in my brain. By the time he was ready to put a big band aid on the scratches, I was able to stop him.

“William, it’ll heal faster if it’s not covered up, besides I don’t want everyone distracted by that huge band aid.” I held his hands away from my face. “Look.” I shaped my bangs back over the scratches. “My hair covers most of the damage. Besides, it’s just a few scratches. Head cuts always bleed a lot. Thanks for patching me up, I’m fine now, really.”

I straightened myself up. “I really appreciate that you stayed to make sure I had a ride. Can you take me to the police station downtown? I have to see a man about a murder.” Yep, definitely starting to feel more like myself.

William gave me a skeptical look, but he gave in to my request and within a few moments we were on our way to the station.

Tangled in Thorns