Kill Shot (18 page)
“Candy,” Mrs. Osmond admonished. “Stop with all the questions. Poor Micki hasn’t had a chance to eat her meal.”
She sat down beside Micki and leaned on her arms, smiling.
Micki took a bite of pasta, strenuously avoiding making eye contact. “This is good, Mama O. What’s in it?”
She patted Micki’s arm. “It’s a family recipe. I’ll give it to you so you can make it for Oz.”
Micki chewed and stuffed in another bite to preclude whatever she might have been about to say.
“But the stripper, Mama,” Candy persisted. “I want to know about the stripper. Did Oz dump her? Surely he’s not seeing her with Micki back in the picture?”
Micki chewed slowly and finally put her fork down. “I guess you’ll have to ask Oz.”
“Oh, you’re no fun at all.” Candy got up from the table and joined Mr. Osmond in front of the television set.
“That’s alright, Micki. As long as you and Oz got back together, I don’t need to know the details.” Mrs. Osmond got up and kissed Micki’s temple before filling her glass with more raspberry tea.
“Thanks Mama,” Micki said.
She finished eating and went outside to sit on the back stoop. Looking up at the sky, she noticed that the moon was almost full. She wondered what Oz was doing and why it would take him all night when he’d worked the entire previous day. She didn’t understand his work and whatever it was that drove him to do it.
‘Dudley Do-right’, she’d called him when he’d announced his decision to try out for the police academy. There hadn’t been any question in her mind that he’d make it. Oz always accomplished whatever he set out to do. But when he graduated and became a real cop, she’d thought she should have dissuaded him.
“Somebody has to do it,” he’d said.
If she’d had major reservations about his chosen field then, she was downright paranoid about it now.
Seeing Oz sprawled on the floor of the garage had been a wake-up call for Micki. She’d always thought of Oz as being invincible. Whatever game
he played, he’d always excelled, but this wasn’t a game. And the other side didn’t play fair.
#
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Oz dozed at his desk when a curse from Lieutenant Qualls jerked him awake. It was close to four in the morning. Lieutenant Qualls looked flabbergasted.
A red-faced man wearing a rumpled Armani suit strode into the station, demanding to see his client, Phillip Luka.
“Who’s that guy?” Oz asked.
“Marshall Keanes, a very high society lawyer,” Qualls said. “I wouldn’t think he’d even admit to knowing Luka, let alone represent him.”
“Follow the money,” Aida said.
The men turned to look at her.
“Follow the money to find out who hired Keanes. Then you’ll know who paid Luka to do whatever he did.” Aida yawned, fanning her mouth with her short fingers. “You know, the assaults on Micki and the bridezilla.”
“Don’t forget that he zapped Oz with a taser,” Vinnie said.
Oz felt his jaw tighten. “I could forget that.”
Qualls slumped into a chair. “All together the charges are just a drop in the bucket of what he’s really guilty of. The man’s a killer. We have to figure out who he was hired to kill.”
“And who hired him,” Oz said. “When we know that we may have the answer to the other question.”
They watched through the glass as Luka and Keanes talked, with Keanes doing most of the talking and Luka remaining stoic.
“Wish I could read lips,” Vinnie said.
“That man, Luka, has ice water running through his veins,” Aida said. “Why do I think he’s so hot?”
Oz just looked at her and grinned. Vinnie shook his head and Qualls threw up his hands and left the room.
#
When Oz finally drove into his parent’s driveway it was almost six in the morning. He parked behind the house and pocketed the keys. The aroma of bacon greeted him from outside the kitchen door. He knocked with the back of his hand against the glass.
“Oz!” His mother wiped her hands on a towel before opening the door. “What are you knocking for? This is your house.”
“I know, but I thought I’d be polite and not just barge in.” He snagged a piece of bacon. “How’s Micki?
“She’s good. Sleeping like a baby.” She looked up at him. “I’m so glad you two are back together. It broke my heart when you broke up. The two of you were made for each other.”
“I know, Ma.” He took the plate she offered him.
“So, why did you break up?”
“I don’t know. It had something to do with a box.”
She gazed up at him with eyes the same color and shape as his. “I don’t understand.”
“Me neither, but I’m trying.”
His mother filled his coffee cup and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. “She’s a lucky girl.”
“We’ll work it out,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
“Did you get rid of that nasty stripper? I don’t want her hanging around a nice girl like Micki.”
“Dancer, Ma. Fawn is a dancer, but she’s out of my life.”
“Good riddance.”
When Oz had eaten he headed for his room, quietly turning the knob. He held his breath as he watched Micki sleep. She was curled on her side clutching his pillow.
He unbuttoned his shirt and hung it on the bedpost, then scuffed out of his shoes. He stretched out beside her with his pants and undershirt on and curled himself around her. That he was on top of the covers and she was snuggled underneath would keep his mother from killing him, but he couldn’t resist wrapping her in his arms. In less than a minute he was asleep.
#
When Micki opened her eyes, she smiled and reached out to wrap her fingers around Oz’ wrist. Some things had to be held onto.
This thought brought her fully awake. When did she fall back in love with Oz?
When did I ever not love him?
Suddenly, the weight of Oz arm felt oppressive.
What’s wrong with me? He’s the best man on the face of the earth. It’s me. I’m screwed up. What is it I’m really afraid of?
She slipped out from under Oz’ arm without wakening him and stood staring at him for a moment. A warm flood of emotion filled her chest
. It’s definitely me.
She showered and put her jeans back on with one of Oz’ tee shirts. She didn’t want to face The Inquisition as administered by his mother and Candy so she poured a cup of coffee and went to the back steps.
“Hello, Micki,” his father called. “I was afraid we’d seen the last of you.” He was cleaning the interior of the family sedan, polishing the dash with a rag.
She smiled. “It didn’t work out that way.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “The boy just couldn’t get over you.”
“Me neither, Mr. O.” She stifled an indelicate snort. Thinking of Oz as ‘the boy’ brought a grin to her face. He’d looked so tired when she slipped out of bed. She wanted to find out what happened with Luka but she didn’t want to disturb him.
Mrs. Osmond came out the back and joined her on the steps. “Did you get enough rest, Micki?”
She took a deep breath and stifled the desire to cut and run. “Yes, Mama O. Thank you for asking.”
“And Oz is still asleep? I thought he should get his rest. He didn’t come in until almost six this morning. What kind of job is that?”
“I really couldn’t say, Mrs. O.” Micki flexed her shoulders to relax the feeling that she was slowly being strangled by a brown-eyed boa constrictor.
“He didn’t change to nights, did he?” Mrs. Osmond fixed Micki with a raised eyebrow.
“Not that I know of.”
“Micki, you can tell me,” Mrs. Osmond said. “Are things alright between you and Oz?” She leaned over in a conspiratorial manner.
“As far as I know.” She forced a smile. “Don’t worry. We promised to work things out. We’re talking.”
“Do you love my boy?”
The question slapped her in the face. She swallowed the razor wire at the back of her throat. “I love him so much it hurts me.”
Mrs. Osmond patted Micki on the arm and then stood up. “Oh, here’s Mr. Sleepy Head now.”
Micki turned to find Oz standing behind her with a cup of coffee in his hand. His warm gaze brought a flush to her cheeks.
When his mother had gone inside he sat beside her on the steps. “So much it hurts?” The concern in his voice wrapped around her like an embrace.
“Sometimes,” she whispered.
“I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“You know what I mean, Oz. I love you so much it makes me ache all over...sometimes.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He stroked her thigh, his long fingers reaching around from seam to seam of her jeans.
Micki wrapped her arm around his and leaned her face against his shoulder. How could she have stayed away from him so long?
“You need to tell your mother that you’re not dating the stripper. She and Candy are driving me crazy with questions.”
He laughed deep in his chest.
#
Oz sat his coffee cup carefully on a napkin, fitting it in the same circle etched in sloshed coffee. He browsed through various reports on his computer and tried to make sense of all the fragments. The lab confirmed that the blood in the Park Maintenance Department’s boat did, indeed, belong to Randal Knox. Considering the fact that the boat was under lock and key it would seem that it would only be accessible to a limited number of persons. But, Lloyd informed him, they’d had numerous instances when someone had swum around to the water entrance to ‘borrow’ a boat for a midnight rendezvous. The only fingerprints belonged to park personnel although the person dumping Knox’ body might well have worn gloves.
Oz raked his fingers through his hair. Who hated Randal Knox enough to kill him? Randal was a body builder on steroids. He’d slapped his girlfriend around and she had a Temporary Restraining Order filed against him.
Lissa Montgomery was too small and slight to have dealt the blow that killed him. The lab determined that the killer had to have stood at least six feet tall and possess adequate upper body strength to slam an object into Randal’s skull with sufficient force to crush said skull. Oz closed his files and shoved his chair back. This case was like a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.
He returned to the Golden Coast Spa to interview the manager, Sylvia Cosgrove, once more. She said that Randal had been moody recently, but always showed up for work on time and the clients reported being pleased with his services.
He fixed her with a solemn gaze. “I’ve been told that Mr. Knox had, on occasion, become intimate with his female patrons.”
Her face closed up as she appeared to grope for a way to sidestep his question. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“Oh, come on, Sylvia. Everyone knows about Randal and the boss lady. Are you going to tell me you were the only one in the dark?”
A deep furrow appeared between her brows. “I can’t talk about it.” She checked to make sure the door was closed. “I really can’t.”
“Okay then, can you tell me if they parted on amiable terms.”
Sylvia cleared her throat. “When she started seeing Jason, Randal was pissed.” She spoke just above a whisper. “He told everyone he was going to kill Jason because he stole his cash cow.”
“Randal said that?”
She nodded. “Jason didn’t come to work for a few days, but when he did it seemed that everything had blown over. I mean, they were never friends or anything, but the bad vibe was gone.”
“Does Jason work with Mrs. Jobe in the exercise room back there?” Oz nodded towards the shiny polished chrome equipment reflected in mirrors behind the glass wall.
“Lord, no. The Jobes have a complete workout room in the penthouse. Mrs. Jobe always had her private sessions up there.”
“Did anyone else besides the Jobes have access to the penthouse for workouts?”
“Mrs. Jobe gets a massage several times a week. She likes Gregor. He’s Russian and very popular with female clients. You know, he’s big and dark and exotic.” She smiled at him. “Kind of like you.”
Oz flashed a grin. “I never thought of myself as anything you could call exotic.”
Sylvia warmed to him, placing her hand on his sleeve. “Oh no, honey, you’re gorgeous. If you ever want to earn a little money on the side let me set you up as a trainer.”
“Don’t you have to have some education and experience for that?”
“What you need is a great face and body. And these women would tip you like you wouldn’t believe.”
“What else do I have to do?”
Sylvia grinned. “Anything else, I don’t want to know about. It’s strictly between you and the client.”
Oz left feeling slightly soiled. He called up to the penthouse on the pretense of talking to Lissa Montgomery, but was, in fact seeking an audience with Laurel Jobe.
#
Micki stepped out onto the porch. Oz had left her with no transportation and under strict orders to stick around, but she was feeling claustrophobic. She had made the decision to bite the bullet and walk to her parent’s house two blocks over. It had been a while since she had been home and she wasn’t looking forward to the meeting, but when she called her mother, the catch in her voice made her feel guilty.
