Death Stretch (10 page)

“Do you know how the poison works?” I held my breath waiting for her answer.

“I'm pretty sure the substance is most deadly ingested or inhaled. I suppose ricin could be injected. I do know the amount needed to kill someone is small.” She tilted her head to the side. “Usually it takes a day or so before death. Guess someone gave him enough to make sure he’d bite the big one sooner than later. Or maybe he had a bad heart.” She snorted. “Not that he had one.”

I watched Mona's finger tap-tap the marble. Suddenly I was noticing tells and playing detective too. It wouldn't take a psychologist to pick up on her nervousness.

“Mona, do the cops know about your friend? The one who bought Morgan the expensive watch?”

She stiffened. “No, and I'm not giving her over.”

“I get that. I'm hoping she'll talk with the cops on her own.”

Mona's intense glare reminded me of Dirk. “Why would she do something that stupid?”

Ginger leaned forward. “Because if she volunteers, the police may stop looking at her as a suspect. That's what Detective Johnson told me when I spoke with him yesterday. He promised me anonymity if possible.”

Mona's finger stopped tapping. She stared at Ginger. “You? I never would have believed you hooked up with Yoga Man.”

My friend gave a sick laugh. “Me, either. Morgan got so intense at the end. He even asked me to get a divorce so we could elope. I almost believed him.”

I felt my forehead crinkle. I knew Ginger wouldn't make up the story, but eloping with Morgan? According to rumor, that wasn't his style. He was strictly love ’em and leave ’em. Or rather, screw ’em and blackmail ’em. ’Course, Ginger's sweet, loaded and gorgeous—everyone says so, not just me. Maybe Morgan looked to Ginger for the big score.

Something about the intimidation continued to bother me. Why did Morgan hint for gifts, then turn around and send notes with photos? The notes weren't signed, the messages used cut out letters. We assumed Morgan blackmailed the women after he dumped them, but maybe he wasn’t the extortionist. Could be someone else pursued the blackmail making Morgan as much a victim as the women.

And what if a husband learned about the affair his wife had and wanted revenge? Wouldn't that be a motive for murder?

Ginger cleared her throat. “I told Rob about Morgan.”

Yikes. “But did he know while Morgan was alive?”

She didn't answer for a minute. Mona left to make us another round of mocha.

Ginger spoke quickly in a soft voice. “Rob didn't seem surprised when I told him. I thought he'd be upset, but he just had that stern jawed look, you know the one.”

I nodded. The grim look. If Rob were British he’d have a permanent stiff upper lip. “So you think he already knew about your affair with Morgan.”

Tears welled in my friend's eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Sweetie, is Rob having an affair?”

“I don't know. He says not, but—”

I read more than I wanted to in her trailed off sentence. Could Rob have killed Morgan? Had he really played golf on Saturday morning? Did either of us want to know for sure?

Mona came back with the fresh mocha and a plate of truffles. She sat and let out a sigh. “I'm calling my friend and letting her know Detective Johnson may want to hear her story.”

Holding down a cheer, I managed a quiet thank you.

“I can't promise anything for her, but I think she'll understand why she has to talk with the cops. Damn men cause more trouble than they're worth.” She wiped her hand over her eyes. “You said Johnson promised he'd keep her involvement quiet if he could?”

Ginger put her hand over Mona's and squeezed. “I think he'll do what he can to protect the women in this case.” She patted my hand. “All of them.”

Mona eyed me up and down. “Got yourself a hot one, huh? Good for you.” She stood. “I've gotta open in fifteen minutes, so you can either give me a hand or move it.”

We gave her a hand.

****

“Can you come to the impound lot? We found Morgan’s abandoned SUV. We want to know if it’s the same one involved in your hit and run on Sunday.”

Dirk's deep voice reverberated in parts of me that never see the light of day. I about fanned myself, until I realized what he'd asked.

“Hello to you, too, and where's the impound lot?”

He gave me directions even though I already knew the lot he meant. Granville Falls had become a bedroom community for Charlotte, but the town remained fairly small. The chill bumps his voice created on my spine weren't small, though. Not at all.

I had my own car back and arrived at the lot in record time. My legs shook when I got out and stood looking at an SUV that may or may not have been the one that almost hit me. Dirk and Matt joined me.

Dirk gestured to the SUV. “That the one?”

“I don't know for sure. Can we get closer?”

Matt unlocked the compound. “Have you seen this SUV before?”

I walked closer. “This was Morgan's? Talk is he loved to advertise. Why isn’t there a sign on his door promoting the studio?”

Matt looked at his partner. Dirk rubbed his forehead with two fingers. “The SUV is Morgan's. The door sign is magnetic, and whoever stole the vehicle removed it.”

“When was it stolen?”

Matt punched Dirk in the upper arm. “Hey, she knows the right questions, maybe you should partner up with her.”

Dirk's answering glare had Matt clearing his throat before he continued. “The assistant couldn’t nail down a time or date. A patrol found the SUV abandoned, no prints.”

I circled the vehicle again. “Guys, this looks like the same one. It has tinted windows and the grill is the same. I didn't see the rear bumper because I landed ass over teakettle. Have you asked Mrs. Haywood?”

Matt answered. “We don't need to now that you've seen the vehicle.” Why did Dirk remain silent?

“So I can go?”

Dirk put a hand on my arm. “In a minute. I have a question or two for you.” He jerked his head to the side and Matt stepped away. “What have you been up to? Do you think this investigation is a game?”

I said the first thing that came to mind. “Huh?” My articulation knows no bounds.

“Look, I don't want you getting hurt. Several women have come forward to report blackmail notes received after their affairs with Morgan. They said you asked them to speak up.”

“Me? I asked a friend of a friend, that's all.”

“Well stop asking friends of friends, okay?” His hand tightened. “There's a freaking murderer loose.”

“Yeah, and he or she is determined to lay the murder on me.” I pulled my arm away. “I have the right to defend myself, and if that means asking questions, so be it.”

“Defending yourself and looking for a killer are two different things. A second grader could break into your house.”

“I've got deadbolts, remember?”

“What you need is another place to stay until we get this guy.”

“I thought you were looking for a woman. Isn't poison a woman's weapon?”

He hesitated. I saw it cost him to give me any information at all. “In this case, either a man or woman could be the perp.”

Rob's face flashed in my brain and I pushed him out before my expression gave Dirk something to think about. “I hate to say this, but a woman seems to have more motive.”

“Unless a jealous husband took him out.”

I closed my eyes against the returning image of Rob.

Dirk's growl lifted my lids in a hurry. “What do you know?”

“Nothing.” My cuticles claimed my attention. “How could the killer know how to get the ricin? I mean, poison isn’t a subject taught in school. Unless the school is Hogwarts.”

“You can find anything on the Internet.”

I snapped my fingers and Dirk rolled his eyes in response, as if he knew what I'd say next. He probably did, given his intelligence factor.

“Have you checked the Internet and tried to match up those instructions you found in my house with say, Wikipedia? Hey and then you can check browser histories.”

“We'd need a warrant and probable cause, but yeah, we figured that out.”

My fallen expression must have jogged something in Dirk's cop heart because he squeezed my shoulder. “Thanks for the ideas.”

Then he gave me a small shake. “But stop asking questions. You're not a trained detective, and the killer is getting desperate. Don't let yourself get thrown under the wheels, okay?”

His earnest gaze urged me to pay attention. Too bad I don't follow directions well. “You may want to talk with Brandi Wells. I heard she was one of Morgan's flings, and she wasn't happy when he dumped her.”

His face darkened. I knew he knew I wouldn't make promises.

“Better take Matt with you. I hear Flash is looking for a new boyfriend.”

A smirk crossed Dirk's face. “Jealous?”

“Nah, I don't want to break in a new detective if Flash sinks her fangs and drains your blood.”

I ignored Dirk's scowl, enjoying Matt's laughter as I walked to my car. The police were looking at men too. That added another twist and put Ginger back in their sites via Rob. I hoped to heaven his alibi checked out.

Chapter Nine

Ginger licked sugar from her fingers. “So did your sexy cop ask you out?

“No.” I blurted out my newest worry. “He said they think the murderer could be a man.”

She stopped moving, with a truffle just millimeters from her mouth. What control. “Why a man?”

“I don't know, but... do you think Rob could be involved?”

“Rob?” Ginger snorted and replaced the truffle on her plate. “What makes you think he'd get his hands dirty?”

Whoa. If Ginger’s magenta colored face wasn’t enough clue, her clipped tone told me she nursed a big mad. “How bad is it?”

“My marriage?”

My expression conveyed my worry. She answered without me saying a word.

“I'm not in a marriage anymore. Seems more like the hotel business.”

She raised her head, frowning. “He's not here much, and when he is, I feel like I’m talking with a stranger. I can't tell you the last time we made love. So I make sure he has food to eat, clean towels and plenty of shampoo.”

The reason for her fling with Morgan rang crystal clear, and I wanted to slap Rob upside the head. Ginger might have cheated, but in my mind, Rob pushed her into an affair.

I gulped, uneasy about asking for more detail, even from my best friend. Hurting her remained the last thing I wanted to do. “Do you think he's having an affair?”

“At first I thought not, but now I'm not so sure.”

“Why is that?”

She examined her manicure. “Rob's always been easily distracted, and I thought he was busy at work. He was in charge of that big merger, you know.”

I knew. The merger completed months ago.

“Then after the merger, he started working harder, longer hours. No explanation when I asked, just that I shouldn't worry.” She poured tea into our cups and picked up another truffle, only to put it back. “Then I decided to get out of the house. I thought exercise would help and that's when I started yoga lessons.”

And we both knew what happened after that. Morgan.

“Do you think Rob knew about you and Morgan before you told him?”

“At first I thought not.” Ginger flexed her fingers. “Now I'm not so sure. Rob's been, oh, I guess you could say smug.”

Shivers ran down my spine. That didn't sound good.

“You don't think Rob—” I couldn't finish the question.

“I don't know what to think.”

My gaze ran around the kitchen. “But he's still gone all the time. Does he even care?”

Ginger shook her head no. “I don't know. I truly don't.”

Damn, I had to ask the next question and wished it could go unvoiced. “Does he love you enough to kill for you?”

“Katie, the Rob I married was kind, thoughtful, generous. I'd never cheat on that Rob. But I'm not living with the man I married. Not anymore.”

That was so not what I wanted to hear.

“Ginger, do you know where Rob was last Saturday?”

She half laughed. “I don't know where he is right now.” She chewed on her thumb. “He said he was in Charlotte with customers. Golfing.”

Golfing would be easy to check, if he came down to needing an alibi.

“Sometimes I think all we have left is divorce. But, Katie, I really hope not. Shame on me, but I still love the man.”

We sat quietly and drank our tea. Ginger still wasn't cleared by the police. She hadn't mentioned Rob's temper. His anger didn't show often, but when it did, his outbursts were legendary. Rob may have treated Ginger with kindness, but he also had a protective streak bordering on possessive. A former varsity athlete, Rob could easily have threatened Morgan. But murder? Who knew what would push someone over the edge?

When I finally stood to leave, neither of us felt better, and I couldn't blame the stone cold tea in my mug. One way or another, Ginger faced a screwed-up marriage and I had difficulty moving away from a potential murder tag. We hugged.

Ginger whispered, “Please don't tell Detective Johnson about Rob. He can't have killed Morgan. The capacity for murder is just not in him.”

My inner cynic deferred but I agreed to keep our inferences secret. Any involvement Rob had would come out, sure as shit.