Death Stretch (8 page)

“That's not true. I told you, I didn't know Morgan and I didn't do any of those things.” My voice squeaked. The memory of death under my fingertips rushed back, making speech impossible.

Justin dropped his arms but leaned forward slightly. Somehow that seemed a bigger threat. His intense sapphire-colored eyes contrasted badly with his red face. Not to mention, blue like that isn't found in nature.

“Can you prove that? Otherwise, your tall tale is nothing but a story.”

“I don't know why someone is spreading stories about me. They're not true.” But a sudden thought made a very good reason clear. Blame me, the real killer walks. “Do you know who started the story that I knelt and spoke with Morgan?”

“What, I tell and you kill the eye witness?”

My temper climbed and I struggled to pull my ire under control. “I understand you don't know me, but I have no motive, and I didn't take the opportunity to kill anyone. Murder isn’t in me.”

His gaze moved over my body, leaving a creepy crawly feeling behind. “Well, I wasn't at the studio when the crime happened, so I wouldn't know.”

My voice sounded loud. “I didn't do it. I just want to know who accused me so I can find out why.”

A warm feeling covered my back and I knew without looking Dirk stood close.

“Why don't you leave investigating to the police, Ms. Sheridan?”

I whirled and faced Dirk. My stomach clenched when I saw his stern expression. “Why don't you find out who's smearing my name? Seems to me, that's a good clue to the killer.”

“We're investigating every lead, Ms. Sheridan. Thorough investigation takes time.”

Justin snorted. “Time? How much time? How long will you keep the studio closed? I've got personal belongings in there, stuff I need.”

Dirk gave Justin a cool look. “We're finishing up tonight. You can open tomorrow.”

“The studio won't open, not without Morgan. I just want my things and for you to find the killer.” He crossed his arms again and threw a glare in my direction. “Should be easy. She's standing right next to you.”

The blood drained from my head. I swayed before catching my balance. The stunned feeling remained.

Detective Johnson rode to the rescue, kinda. “I'm interested in hearing how the victim's business partner knows the killer's identity. Unless your convenient alibi away from the studio doesn't hold true. Care to enlighten me?”

Justin's pout would have been cute on a two-year-old. “I'm just repeating what I heard, that's all.”

“Well, keep your repetition to yourself. This is an ongoing investigation. If you have evidence, bring it to me.”

Dirk switched his angry look from Justin. Yep, as I imagined, his intensity made me feel like a bug facing an entomologist. “And that includes you, Ms. Sheridan. Leave the investigation to me.”

“I am. I only stopped to give Justin my condolences.” A sniff escaped before I could stop expressing my disdain. “Not that he accepted them.”

I turned away but my temper encouraged further confrontation. “Justin, whether you believe me or not, I didn't kill Morgan. I'm sorry he died.” I caught his gaze. “I did try to save him.”

Justin's expression glazed over. His shoulders shook and I moved away. Joining in on a good cry isn’t my forte, even if Justin would appreciate my participation.

Ten steps later, a firm grip stopped my forward progress. Dirk.

“Katie, you mean well, but you have to stay away from the principals.”

His words didn't take long to sink in, along with disbelief. “So I'm the main suspect? Why? I didn't even know the man.”

“We are investigating all leads at this time.”

I looked at the man who had eaten pizza at my house and helped me install locks earlier. He didn't look familiar anymore.

“Including me.”

His jaw tightened. “Yes, including you.”

“Do I need a lawyer?”

His hesitation said more than words.

“Just shut your mouth. You don't say anything to me. Not now. Not later. I’ll get a lawyer. You can talk to him. Or her.”

His silence as I left told me I had more trouble ahead. My gut instinct agreed.

****

Ginger pulled open the door, eyes puffy. “Come on in. Rob won't be home for another half hour.”

“He's working late again?”

She hesitated then nodded and closed the door behind me. We headed to our kitchen hangout. Ginger set the table with tea mugs and a plate of our favorite cookies. I grabbed a tea bag and tore it open, only to feel Ginger's hand on mine.

“Katie, put that down. You hate green tea.”

I threw the bag onto the table and focused on making a choice from the basket in front of me. I was more rattled than I thought. Ginger selected a chamomile tea bag and handed the paper wrapped packet to me. Guess my upset was obvious.

I took a deep breath and tackled a question I'd put off asking. “Does Rob know about Morgan?”

My friend gave a small laugh. “Are you kidding? Maybe he doesn't want to make love with me but God forbid any other man would. He'd kill the guy then he'd kill me.”

She stopped and stared at me. Her face paled. “You don't think?” She took a deep breath. “No, that's not possible and I won't entertain the idea.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes, but the quiet wasn't our usual peaceful companionship. I broke the awkward pause.

“So what happened with your police interview? The session couldn't have lasted long.”

Ginger poured hot water into our mugs. The scent of herbal tea wafted up. I grabbed a cookie and munched while my friend remained silent. Our gazes met across the table. Mine hopeful, hers, not so much.

“Actually, the questioning went better than I expected.”

“Did it?”

“I told Detective Johnson everything. The fling with Morgan and the blackmail note.”

“What did he say?”

“He took one long look around the living room and asked why I thought the blackmail amount was so low.” She paused. “I told him what you said, that someone must be scheming to hit multiple victims.”

My breath started again. “Did Dirk ah, Detective Johnson buy that theory?”

Ginger smirked, but on her the expression looked good. Everything looked good on her. Damn it all. “First name basis, huh? Nice work.”

“Just answer me, Miss Smarty-Pants.”

“Dirk,” the brat emphasized his name, “seemed to think that made sense.”

“Anything else?”

“Not really.” She tilted her head to the side, a move that indicated she thought something through. “I didn't realize it at the time, but he asked me a bunch of questions about you.” She faced me. “Told you he's interested.”

My heart sank right down to my feet. I could feel my blood pumper drop like a run-away elevator. Given his stern behavior at the studio, he’d gotten something else out of his conversation with Ginger.

“Do you happen to remember details?”

Something about my expression reached my friend. “What? What's wrong?”

“What kind of questions did he ask? Please, think back.”

Ginger went into head tilt mode again, this time with a frown. “He just asked how long we've known each other. How we got the Demonic Duo name. Why two such disparate people are friends.”

Her frown deepened and she looked scared. My voice hit scream volume. “What, what?”

My friend took a deep breath and looked sad. “I told him we've been protecting each other since second grade.”

Our gazes met and held. I could tell we were thinking the same thing. Motive and opportunity. I had them both.

****

A heavy knock at the door woke me. Disoriented, I raised my nose and sniffed but didn't smell smoke. My clock read five-thirty, so I pulled a pillow over my head before I became jolted alert. Normally, if a problem is happening before I'm awake, I don't want to know. That was before the recent break-ins.

Then the knocking started again. “Police, open up. We have a warrant.”

I looked out my bedroom window. Sure enough, a black and white sat in my drive with an unmarked behind the squad. Didn't take hours of watching crime show television to know an officer guarded each door. The pounding resumed.

“Hold it to yourself, will ya? I'm coming. Just give me a minute.”

Grabbing my oldest, rattiest bathrobe, well, my only robe to be honest, I stumbled for the front door and threw it open.

“Detective Johnson. Just who I wanted to wake up with this morning.”

The nearest policeman grinned. He looked like a boy I knew in middle school. He slanted a look at Dirk and his mirth disappeared. I checked the officer's name badge. Yep, the cop was Allen. Wow, he'd filled out. My observations took a backseat when I saw the look in Dirk's eyes.

“Ms. Kathryn Sheridan, we have a warrant to search your premises. Will you allow us to enter and carry out the warrant?”

“What? What are you looking for? You're kidding, right?”

Dirk handed me the warrant. I stumbled through the legalese. I wished I'd made time to call a lawyer. “Botanical based poison? Ricin? What the hell is that? I don't know what you're looking for, but I bet it's not here.”

He didn't look at me, just pushed past. The other officers followed his lead. Allen was the last to file past my bewildered self. He took pity on me. “You always sucked in science. Castor beans, Katie. Simple, ordinary castor beans. Got any?”

My brain refused to work. “I don't even have the oil. Or am I thinking of cod liver oil?” I shook my head “Either way, no.”

“I hope not, Katie. I really hope we don't find any.”

I sank into the nearest chair, holding my robe closed with shaking hands. Coffee was the answer. Too bad no one asked the question but me. I watched the search for a few minutes then realized I was all but buck-naked in a house full of men.

“Hey, Allen, mind if I get dressed?”

He grinned. “Can I watch?” Yep, same old Allen.

He waved me on my way. I scooted off, grabbed clothes from my bedroom chair and locked myself into the bathroom. A quick use of the toothpaste and hairbrush later, I returned to the living room with my heart in my throat. Really, I could feel it there, blocking my air intake.

Allen and I exchanged old home week stories for a few minutes, but that didn’t help my stress level. Dirk walked into the room and breathing became more difficult. Standing over me, he crossed his arms. His taciturn face told me I inhabited one heck of a nightmare. He gestured toward the chair across from me.

“May I sit? I have a few questions.”

My voice didn't work, what with my throat all closed up, so I nodded. Dirk's cold, formal demeanor scared me. A lot.

“What do you know about botanical poisons?”

“Nothing. Well, except that Allen told me you're here looking for castor beans.”

Dirk's look sent Allen scurrying from the room.

“We suspect ricin, or some form of botanical poison killed Morgan Anderson last Saturday. Care to revise your story?”

“I don't have a story. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have castor beans.” And the final don't. “I don't have a reason to change anything I've told you. I'm innocent.”

Good thing I wasn’t a criminal because his disbelieving look had me wanting to throw myself on the mercy of the court. Sheesh. He excelled at his job.

One of the officers called Dirk into the kitchen and I sat alone pondering my fate. Castor beans are poisonous? Who knew? All I did know for sure was that I didn't possess the seeds or beans or whatever they were. I didn't even have lettuce in my refrigerator.

Dirk walked in so quietly he stood next to me before I realized he was there. He held up an evidence bag holding another plastic bag with a half inch of powder in the bottom. “Is this yours?”

Still unable to speak, I shook my head no.

Then he showed me another evidence bag holding several typewritten pages. “What about these papers?”

Again, a head shake answer.

“Ms. Sheridan, we are taking you in for questioning regarding the murder of Morgan Anderson. If you feel you need a lawyer, you may call one from the station.” He held out a hand. “Come with me, please?”

“What, you’re not reading me my rights?”

“You’re not under arrest.” The unstated “yet” hovered like an armed bomb. I stood. My stomach dropped with gravity. My legs wobbled me toward the door. Dirk walked on one side and another officer flanked me. As if Jell-O legs could take off running.

Half my neighbors pretended to pick up newspapers that hadn't arrived yet and the others looked out their windows. I ducked into the backseat of the cruiser before anyone could do that embarrassing hand-on-top-of-the-head thing to me.

At the station, Allen opened my door and we entered together. He set me up at Dirk's desk with a cup of the worst coffee I'd ever tasted.

Dirk sat and watched me grimace my way through another sip of synthetic java. “That's from the night crew. If you wait a few minutes, someone will make a new pot.”

“Will the new batch be any better?”

“Not really.”

I pushed the paper cup to the side. “Why did you pull me in? No, wait, why did you stage a search so early in the morning?”

He considered me for a moment then answered. “I figured you're not much of a morning person. Sometimes we get lucky when we roust at dawn.”