Little Shop of Homicide (26 page)

“I know you’re in there. Your car is in plain sight and there are footprints in the snow leading to the door, but not away from it.” Woods’s self-satisfied voice turned venomous. “Either you let me in or I come back with a warrant for your arrest.”

Great!
He was upping the ante. What was my best course of action? I needed a witness. And not just any witness—preferably an armed one who could get here quickly. That narrowed it down to Jake.

Boone might be my attorney, but since Jake was a
U.S. Marshal, he would have a nice big gun. Plus he lived only a few miles down the road. Considering that Woods sounded crazed enough to start shooting, it was no contest between the two men.

Woods let loose another round of threats as I stepped back from the door and located my cell phone. Jake answered immediately, and once I explained the situation, he said he’d be right over.

Trying to stall the detective, I yelled, “Give me five minutes to get dressed.”

“Five minutes.” Woods stopped pounding. “After that I’ll have my partner call the SWAT team.”

I took a quick peek out the window. Sure enough, another man was sitting behind the wheel of a Crown Victoria. He must be Woods’s elusive partner. I’d been half convinced the guy was a figment of the detective’s imagination.

Woods was probably exaggerating when he threatened to call in reinforcements, but I still kept an eye on the clock as I hustled into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, scraped my hair into a ponytail, and swished Listerine around my mouth. Then I returned to the front door, hoping Jake made it before my time ran out.

The detective was counting down the seconds when Jake’s F-250 squealed into the driveway. At the last possible moment, I turned the lock and the men went shoulder to shoulder, each trying to be the first to enter.

Jake won the competition and strode over to my side, his blue eyes exuding triumph and concern. When at first I didn’t see his pistol holstered on his belt, I glanced down and spotted a reassuring bulge near his ankle.

“So much for that feminist crap you broads are always spouting,” Woods snapped. “The princess had to wait for her white knight to come save her before letting down the drawbridge.”

Jake ignored Woods and focused his attention on me. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I fought the urge to collapse against him.
Woods’s knight-in-shining-armor jab had hit a little too close to home. “Just worried that the detective might do something we’d both regret—probably me more than him.”

“Are you saying I haven’t acted professionally?” Woods’s breath was coming out in angry spurts and his fists were clenched.

I took a step backward, but he darted after me and thrust his face into mine. “What were you doing at the Parkside Hotel last night?”

Before I could speak, Jake moved me behind him and growled, “That’s not how this is going to go down. You don’t invade her personal space, and she doesn’t file a complaint against you.”

Jake had a good eight inches on the detective, and a lot more muscle, not to mention the little matter of being twenty years younger.

Woods threatened, “You have no idea who you’re messing with, son.”

“Neither do you.”

When Jake didn’t elaborate, I realized he wanted to keep his identity as a U.S. Marshal from the detective for a little longer. Although, now that Woods was aware of Jake’s connection with me, all the detective had to do was ask around town, and the truth would come out.

The older man glared at Jake, fingering his gun, but finally took an infinitesimal step away. Then with his muddy brown eyes flat and hard—like a rattlesnake ready to strike—he said, “Just answer the question. What were you doing nosing around the crime scene?”

I searched Jake’s face for a clue as to what I should say, but before I could figure it out, he put his arm around me and kissed my cheek. “Go ahead, sugarplum, tell him what we were doing at the Parkside.” Jake chuckled, “Just don’t tell him everything.”

Ah. So that was how we were going to play it. “Well, okay. But he has to promise not to say anything to anyone.”
I fluttered my lashes at Jake before saying to Woods, “We were there for some privacy.”

“Really?” The detective furrowed his forehead. “Then why didn’t you stay the night? You checked out after only a few hours.” Woods jerked his chin at Jake. “Was that all he had in him?”

“Don’t be silly. This big guy can go all night. It was my fault we left early.” I chose my next words carefully, knowing that a good lie contained a hint of truth. “I was worried about leaving my grandmother alone overnight.”

Woods snorted his disbelief. “Then where’s the dear little old lady now?”

I knew the detective would probably check my story, but I hoped not too thoroughly. “Turns out she decided to go with a friend on a casino trip, so we could have stayed.” I leaned my head on Jake’s shoulder and smiled contritely. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No problem.” Jake pulled me closer. “I was worried about Uncle Tony, too.”

“How sweet.” Woods made a gagging sound. “You expect me to believe it was purely a coincidence that you were not only at the same hotel but also in the same room as Joelle Ayers, exactly a week after the murder took place?”

“Yes.” I barely kept myself from cringing. Yuck! It hadn’t dawned on me that we were in the suite on the one-week anniversary of her death. “No one ever told me the name of the hotel.”

“And,” Jake added, “I booked the honeymoon suite so our time together would be special. Nothing’s too good for my sweetie pie.”

“Of course.” Woods’s pupils dilated. “You two must take me for an idiot.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from agreeing.

Jake must have realized how close I was to losing it and telling the detective exactly what I thought of him,
because he said smoothly, “The Parkside is one of the best hotels, and we were celebrating our new relationship. Don’t you believe in love?”

There was a moment’s silence; then Woods started to applaud. “That was some performance. You had me going for a second or two.” He hitched up his pants and moved closer to me again. “I might even buy your story if there wasn’t a dead body in that room a week ago. A woman who was killed with items from your perverted gift basket, and who just happened to be the fiancée of your ex-boyfriend.”

“Which might have given Devereaux a motive,” Jake interjected, “
if
she still had feelings for Underwood and was intent on getting rid of the competition.” He gave me a hug and beamed down at me with such love in his eyes, I almost believed the line he was giving Woods.

The detective tried to interrupt, but Jake continued. “However, as you can clearly see, she’s in love with me now and had no reason to kill that woman.”

“So you say.” Woods’s voice was skeptical. “This great love of yours seems very handy to me.”

“Yes, and your knowledge of our whereabouts seems very handy to me.” Jake narrowed his eyes. “Were we being followed?”

“No. We got an anonymous tip this morning.” Woods shook his head in disgust. “I only wish the department had those kinds of resources. Hell, between the bean counters not approving surveillance and the lawyers telling me I can’t say she’s a suspect, I might as well retire.” Woods shot me a look of pure loathing. “And I would if I still had any retirement money left.”

I started to apologize, but Jake cut me off, intent on gathering more information. “Who tipped you off? Man or woman?”

“Couldn’t tell,” Woods answered automatically, obviously responding to the command in Jake’s voice. Then he caught himself. “Now wait a goddamn minute—I’m
the one asking the questions, so tell me again why you were at the Parkside.”

“We already told you.” Jake faced the detective and crossed his arms. “So unless you have another relevant question, I suggest you leave.”

Woods didn’t blink. “How long have you two been going out together?”

I waited for Jake to respond since I didn’t want us to give different answers. Heck, I wasn’t even sure how long he’d been in town.

“A month.” Jake’s tone was confident. “We met the day after I arrived at my uncle’s.”

“How convenient.” Woods’s smile could have cut through a sheet of metal. “I don’t suppose there’s anyone who can corroborate that.”

“My grandmother,” I said.

“My uncle,” Jake said at the same time. Then he added, “We kept our relationship quiet at first, but recently we shared it with Devereaux’s friends Boone and Poppy.”

Wow. Jake was smooth. I needed to remember that he was an even better liar than I was.

As Woods took another step closer to us, a voice exploded into the foyer and Birdie burst from the kitchen into the hallway, holding a rolling pin in her raised hand. “I want you out of my house! I know my rights. Unless you have a search warrant, you need to leave right now and quit bothering these two lovebirds.”

I froze.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I had been hoping to keep Gran in the dark about all this—especially the part where Jake and I spent an evening in a hotel room alone together. How had I missed the sound of the bad muffler on Frieda’s old Chevy Impala? I had to have been really distracted by Woods and Jake.

Gran was still wearing her coat. She must have returned from the casino, seen the police car—even unmarked cars had a distinctive license plate—and come in through the back door.

“Now, Mrs. Sinclair,” Woods said, retreating a step, “I’m just asking a few questions.”

Birdie darted up to the detective, a righteous grandmother protecting her young. She waved the sturdy wooden dowel at him. “And these kids answered you, so now it’s time to leave. I won’t ask you this nicely next time.”

I caught Jake’s eye and tilted my head questioningly. All I needed was for Woods to take Gran into custody.

Jake shrugged, but he was grinning and didn’t appear worried.

“Fine.” The detective took another step back, plainly making sure he was out of rolling-pin range before adding, “But I’m going to get her this time. I’m this close to arresting her.” He held his thumb and index finger together with barely any space between them.

“What’s changed?” Jake demanded. “What new evidence do you have?”

At first, I didn’t think Woods would answer. Then with a great deal of pleasure he said, “The same person who told us Ms. Sinclair was at the Parkside yesterday told us they saw her there the previous Saturday night as well.”

“That’s a lie!” I looked at Jake. Did he believe Woods?

Jake smiled reassuringly at me, but before he could speak, Birdie screamed at Woods, “Sweet Jesus! Did you even stop to think your anonymous tipster is probably the real murderer?”

He ignored Gran’s question. “You can’t protect your granddaughter forever, Mrs. Sinclair. No one can.”

“Maybe. But I’ll die trying.” Birdie looked him up and down. “And I might take you with me since without Dev I have nothing to lose.”

“All of you are crazy!” The detective’s bellow made the glass knickknacks on the hall table rattle. He turned to Jake and me. “This isn’t over.”

“No, it isn’t.” Jake’s expression was implacable. “And here’s something for you to think about on your way
out. Maybe your immediate superior knows about your bias in this matter and doesn’t think it’s affecting your investigation, but it’s time to take the issue up the food chain. Do you think the chief of detectives will allow your personal vendetta against Devereaux to continue?”

Woods’s face turned the color of a ripe eggplant. He sputtered, spun on his heel, and flung open the front door. “You just made a dangerous enemy, pal.” He stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

“W
ell.” I blew a curl out of my eye. “That was certainly fun.”

Gran had disappeared into the kitchen with a wink and a nudge. No doubt she was already on the phone to Tony, spreading the news of Jake’s and my romance.

“Yeah. Real amusing.” Jake stood with his hand on the doorknob. “Woods’s guitar strings are tuned a little too tight.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s just hope we aren’t around to get hurt when they break.” I felt awkward with Jake after all that had happened, both last night and this morning. “So, are you really going to notify the chief of detectives about Woods’s prejudice against me?”

“Yes.” Jake grimaced. “I didn’t do it earlier because going up the chain of command is the last thing a law enforcement officer wants to do to a fellow officer—it’s a good way to get labeled a snitch—but I think it’s time.”

“I can have Boone make the call,” I offered, not wanting Jake to ruin his reputation on my account.

“No. It’ll be more effective coming from me.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I didn’t have the luxury of turning down his offer. If I went to prison, Birdie would end up in an assisted-living facility. And after spending her
whole life in the same house, she’d hate that. “And thanks for coming over so fast.”

“No problem.” Jake’s tone was distracted. “Good thing you phoned when you did. I was getting ready to leave for St. Louis. I got a message that I need to be at headquarters Monday at nine o’clock, so I’m driving up today and spending the night at my apartment.”

“Is it about your injury?”

“No.” Jake twitched his shoulders. “A case I worked on a couple of years ago, involving a guy who escaped from prison and took a Sunday school class hostage, is finally going to trial, and they need to prep me before I testify.”