Still Life: The Randi Lassiter Series, Book 1 (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Jon was on his third cup of coffee by the time the rest of the detectives trickled in at seven. Terri was the first to notice the board.

“Jesus, Bricksen…didn’t you go home last night?”

Jon made his way over to the whiteboard they were all staring at, a stack of files in his arms.

“We’re starting over,” he announced as he passed the files out. “From scratch.” A few people in the group groaned. Jon took up position at the front of the whiteboard, crossed his arms and lit into them. “After the Armpit catastrophe I would think you guys would be thanking your lucky stars that we aren’t all on ‘Cops Gone Wild.’ Or that we weren’t all forced to take administrative leave and lined up to testify in front of a grand jury.” He shot Erland a look because he knew he was the lunk-head who’d groused loudest a moment earlier.

“We dodged a bullet when Wacko went rogue and by some miracle only managed to shoot himself.” Jon paused to make eye contact with each one of them. “Let me put it in perspective for you. Wacko screwed up and could have dragged the whole department down with him. You should be thankful that you are still standing here. I know I am.” He could have heard a pin drop as his words slammed home.

He lightened his tone a bit. “But I also believe we can put this case to rights. So grab some coffee if you need it but keep your ears open. I’ve been in since six and I’m afraid there’s bad news.” This time no one groaned. He motioned for Terri to head to the coffee maker. She nodded, and a couple of the others followed her as he started.

“I’ve been going over Wacko’s workload and for whatever deluded reason he did not enter our little murder case into the system—
any
system.” Heads whirled to see if he was joking. “Not MOCIC, not NCIC, not ViCap, not RISSNET—nothing. Here we think our case info is in the database that can be cross-referenced, and it’s not.”

Jon could see the chief hovering just outside the door. He looked up and locked eyes with him. Jon stared the man down, and Thomlin hung his head and walked away.

“Now that’s on me,” Jon added. “I should have been following up on him, and I dropped the ball. So, while I take the time this morning to enter our case into every imaginable system, you guys will go through the files to see if something else was left out or if something was overlooked.”

They were giving him their full attention now. “Seems Wacko used his own judgment to determine which information was germane and got entered into the record. Bottom line, it doesn’t matter. We have to fix this.” Jon paused to let everyone get their coffee and find a seat.

“Take your time and do it right. We are so far behind on this already that an extra day going over the paperwork isn’t going to hurt us. Right now it’s more important that everything be complete and accurate.” Jon paused to sip his cooled coffee. “You see anything that looks like anything, triple-check it. Go back to the source; call up your witnesses if you have to. Let’s close this up tight, nothing slips through the cracks.” He moved to sit on the corner of his desk. “Any questions?”

Heads shook all around.

“Good. Just one more thing.” He handed around a supplement of sheets stapled together. “I’ve updated the board to reflect some new information.” The handout was a synopsis of what he’d found at Walnut Ridge and Truman Perry’s possible link to Larissa Leuenberger’s murder.

“Mr. Perry has chosen to lawyer up…” Once again there were groans. Jon held up his hand. “I will be speaking with Mr. Perry at some point, with or without a lawyer. I wish it were happening now, but until we get the documentation in order, I don’t feel it would be prudent to make a case against Mr. Perry. We don’t want to chance that an arrest would be thrown out of court on a technicality. From here on out this has to be handled by the book.”

Jon looked at the faces of the group. None of them were happy, but they all nodded in agreement. “Let’s get to work.”

As soon as Jon was behind his desk Terri wheeled her chair over. “So, you never mentioned going to the gala with a date.” She crossed her arms and waited.

“It wasn’t a date. Ms. Lassiter joined me as a cover in order for us to move through the crowd without standing out.” Even he didn’t like the sound of his bullshit explanation.

“So kind of like an undercover…
date
.” She broke out laughing.

“Hey, it’s called thinking outside the box.”

“Is that what they call thinking with your pecker these days?”

He shot her a dirty look and tossed another file in her lap. “Get to work.”

She saluted him. “Maybe I can find a reason to put Trujillo undercover and get him a date so he can stop moping around.”

Jon flipped her off, scooped up a file and headed to the whiteboard. There he tacked up glossy prints of Larissa Leuenberger that he’d printed from the Walnut Ridge video. He stared at the woman and prayed they wouldn’t let her down. After a moment he took his files and laptop into one of the small conference rooms so that he could enter the data without distraction or interruption.

Chapter Forty

As he drove home, Jon felt undone. Even with the new suspect information they were no closer to an arrest. Now that he’d redirected the team, corrected the case info, and put the Wacko incident behind him, he was exhausted. All he had to look forward to was starting it all over again tomorrow to try and put together a case against Truman Perry. He was demoralized mentally and drained physically.

Why had he moved here again?

This was not the life he’d envisioned when he left Milwaukee. All he’d wanted was a little peace and a second chance at a happy fucking life. Now he had a murder case riddled by mismanagement that
he’d
allowed to happen, a suspect that might very well get away with murder, and a beautiful part-time PI who probably still hated his guts but he couldn’t stop thinking about.

And he
still
hadn’t unpacked.

Jon pulled his Jeep into the driveway. In a fog, he sat and tried to remember the enthusiasm he’d felt the day he came to Mt. Ouisco house hunting. He had been excited about making a fresh start. His house was the first one he looked at, a small two-story structure with a broad front porch. The entire building had been updated, making the place move-in-ready. Perfect for a bachelor with little free time. Washington Park with its small lake, lush lawn, and wooded canopy was directly across the street from him and with the warmer spring weather he and Dammit had already made use of it, playing fetch and people watching. But with his workload now he was likely to miss the rest of the summer altogether.

Feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, Jon got out and lumbered up the sidewalk, armed with bags of groceries he wasn’t sure he had the energy to put away, let alone make into a meal. He shoved the key in the lock and fumbled with the bags, nearly dropping them as he was startled by a voice.

“Need a hand?”

Jon jumped back.

Randi Lassiter sat on his front porch swing with her bare feet dangling and an open beer in her hand. Dammit sat on the swing next to her, his head in her lap. The big dog at least had the good sense to look guilty. Some cop. How he’d completely missed the pair of them he could only chalk up to fatigue.

She had on jean cutoffs and a white tank top. Her tangled blonde mane, bare shoulders, and tan legs made his mouth go dry—she looked like she just walked out of a retro Pepsi commercial.

“What are you doing here?” He knew he sounded terse but at the moment he didn’t care. He wasn’t in the mood to be taunted or verbally spar with anyone, no matter how gorgeous they were.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“Hello. What are you doing here?”

She gave him a half smile. “I heard Truman Perry was released. Thought you could use a friend.” She pointed to the cooler. “And probably a drink.”

He refused to take the bait—beer and bare shoulders would not suck him in. He went to turn the key and realized it was already unlocked. It suddenly dawned on him that his dog should be inside the house, not out cavorting with this woman he knew was nothing but trouble.

When he turned to question her, she and Dammit pushed into the house ahead of him. “I heard him whining and found your spare key…” She held up the hide-a-key rock and motioned to his landscaping. “I’d have thought for a cop you could have found a better hiding spot. Then I walked your dog.” She looked at him like that would explain everything.

Jon halted just inside the entry. His living room was unrecognizable. The surplus of boxes that had been there this morning was gone, along with the packing paper, bubble wrap, and bottle caps that had become permanent home decor. Floors had been swept, carpets vacuumed, furniture dusted. Framed photos he wasn’t certain he’d ever feel like hanging up were now on the walls, all in a pleasing way. He turned the corner into the kitchen and noted fresh daffodils in a vase on the table. He wasn’t aware of how long it would have taken her to do it, but Randi Lassiter had turned his shell of a pit into a home.

Jon placed the groceries on the counter and turned back to the bizarre woman that had worked a miracle today. He stared at her across the room and could see the trepidation on her face.

“Do you run a house-cleaning service as well as a detective agency?”

“I’m sorry—I couldn’t help myself.” She shifted under his gaze and he turned back to his groceries. Dammit tiptoed to his side and rubbed his big head against his leg.

“Traitor.” He shooed the dog out of the kitchen. Dammit meandered back to the living room.

Jon felt Randi come up behind him as he watched the dog flop down on his bed.

“Lazy Mutt or Spotted Cow?” She held two open bottles out to him. He grabbed the Lazy Mutt. She clinked their bottles together and drank the local microbrew.

“Do you want your chicken heated?” She stood only a foot from him in the cramped galley kitchen. She pointed to a bucket of fried chicken sitting on the counter and looked at him expectantly. He noticed a delicate hand-blown glass pendant suspended from a thin silver chain hung at the hollow of her neck. He picked it up and rolled it between his fingers. His eyes met hers and noted the difference daylight had on the color of them.

“Do you like it hot or cold?” She put her lips to the beer bottle, tilted her head and drank as she waited for an answer.

That was it. He’d had enough of this playing around.

Jon leaned in and planted a kiss on her. He heard Randi squeak out in surprise as he held the back of her head in his free hand and deepened his hold on her lips.

Randi opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to sweep across hers. They both set their beer bottles down and hastily grappled one another.

The minx pressed her body into him and he slid his hand down her backside, grabbed hold of her and drove himself against her. She responded by grabbing his hips and pulling him into her. It was like pouring gasoline on a campfire.

Jon released her mouth and moved to nibble an earlobe. Her hair smelled of the garden—earthy. Her skin was soft and salty. He pulled the fleshy lobe into his mouth and suckled. She gasped. Jon raked his teeth across the tender flesh as he moved towards her neck.

Jon cupped her bottom in both hands and easily lifted her up, her legs almost instinctively wrapping around him. Her breathing grew rapid and shallow as he rocked against her. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling handfuls of it as she seemed to lose control. Only once did a voice somewhere in his subconscious try to talk him out of this, but he shoved that voice of reason to the back of his skull when he heard Randi’s next whispered words.

“I want you.” That was all Jon needed to hear. He spun around to place her on the kitchen counter. Caught off guard by the brusque movement, she grasped his shoulders and squealed. He pulled her tank top out and yanked it over her head, tossing it away. Jon could see the dark outline of her nipples through her lacy bra. He cupped her breasts, feeling the weight of them and stroked her erect nipples with his thumbs. She drove her fingers back into his hair and arched her back as he lowered his head to take a rigid peak in his mouth. His teeth grated over the textured lace and bit lightly on her nipple. She cried out and he looked up to see her leaning her head against the cupboard.

Jon was bewitched by her. He had a hard time looking away when he saw how rapturous she was with her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open and her face flushed with passion. When he stopped, she blinked and looked down at him. A mischievous twinkle lit in her eye and she smiled, her lips full and rosy from his attentions. She slid a hand down between their bodies and rubbed his erection.

Hurrying now, he made quick work of her shorts. He didn’t think he could wait much longer. He dropped his pants and pulled her toward him. He didn’t bother taking off her panties but pulled her down against him. He hooked a finger beneath the narrow lace fabric, pulled the damp material aside and slid inside her with a demanding stroke. Gasping, she arched toward him and dug her nails into his back to hang on. She bit into his shoulder as he bounced her several times, burying himself deeper in her warmth.

The passion they shared was sheer heat and frenzy. Randi clung to him as her ragged breath grew louder with each thrust. Their tenuous position wasn’t cutting it. He turned and carried her, still sheathed on him, to the kitchen table. With a brush of his arm, he swept loose sections of the two-day old newspaper onto the floor and laid her back across the table.

Daffodils dangled over her head and danced to the rhythm of their lovemaking. The water in the vase threatened to spill over as it sloshed. He was sure they made quite a spectacle, but all he could think was…Lord, she was his. He couldn’t think beyond that—it would have to be enough. For now, he simply lost his mind and when he could wait no longer, he held her by the hips and drove them both to a place of pure ecstasy.

Brick was still trying to catch his breath as he helped Randi off the table.

She sat up, looked around the room that was once again in disarray. He followed her gaze to the floor where her clothes lay among the scattered newspaper. She gave his shoulder a gently nip. “Don’t expect me to clean this up.”