Kate Carlisle - One Book In The Grave

My shoulders fell. “You already thought of that, didn’t you?”

He gazed at me with fondness. “I believe you and I might’ve thought of it at precisely the same moment. Great minds and all that, you know.”

“Right.” I shot him a skeptical look. He smiled back at me and mouthed the words, I love you .

And just like that, I was smiling again.

Inspector Lee caught me coming out of the kitchen. “Listen, Wainwright. I mean, Brooklyn. You know I was just teasing you earlier, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good.” Inspector Lee grinned. “Because believe it or not, I actually like you a lot.”

“You like me?”

“Hey, if I didn’t like you, I’d kick you to the curb.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said. “I’m feeling the love.”

“That’s as warm and fuzzy as I get, Wainwright.”

“But you mean it? You really, really like me?” I said, sniffling as I dramatically clutched my hands to my heart.

She held up both hands. “Okay, don’t get carried away.”

“Trust me, I’m not,” I said sardonically.

She laughed and we walked out of the living room into my workroom. I needed a break from the crime scene and she seemed willing to hang out with me.

“You and me,” she said, leaning one hip against my desk. “We’re sort of in the same boat.”

I jumped up and sat in one of my work chairs. “How do you figure?”

She shrugged. “Well, first and most obviously, we’re both foxy.”

“Foxy?” I laughed and she grinned. Guess she was going for a laugh, so I played along. “That’s so true. We do have that much in common.”

“Yeah,” she said, “and we both seem to find ourselves around dead bodies a lot.”

“Also true.” I observed her for a moment and realized she looked a little uncomfortable. Interesting. So I said, “You know, we have so much in common, we should probably try to get along. You know. Be friends, maybe.”

She shrugged. “Only seems right.”

“Okay.” I held out my hand and she reached over and shook it. Her hand was cool and calloused. Friendly.

“Friends,” she said with a satisfied nod.

I found the delivery invoice on my workroom desk and took it to Inspector Jaglom, who was still sitting in the kitchen. He stared at the slip, then dialed the number for Worldwide Shipping and Delivery Service. He read off the invoice number to the dispatcher, who had no record of the delivery.

After a few minutes of wrangling with the woman, Inspector Jaglom asked me to describe the driver. I gave him as precise a description as possible, and Derek added a few details. Jaglom repeated the information into the phone.

The dispatcher recognized the man in question and put the inspector on hold while she tracked the guy down.

It was at least ten minutes before the dispatcher came back on the line. I spent the time making more coffee for the cops and arranging another plate of a dozen cookies to put out. They were devoured within minutes.

“Yeah?” Jaglom said abruptly, then pulled out his notepad and began to write furiously. “I see.”

Inspector Lee frowned as though she could read her partner’s facial expressions.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaglom said. “We’ll have a patrol unit there immediately. Right. Thanks for your assistance.” He hung up the phone.

“They found the guy?” I asked.

“Yeah.” His mouth was tight as he digested what he’d heard. Then he looked at me. “The good news is, they tracked him down. The bad news is, he’s dead.”

I was stunned into silence for a long moment. Finally I asked, “How did he die?”

Lee’s reaction was a quick scowl; then she relaxed her features. I guess I was interfering with the investigation, but since she didn’t smack me upside the head, I took it as a small victory.

“They found him with a plastic bag over his head,” Jaglom said. “He suffocated to death.”

I cringed. There was no good way to die, but that seemed like a particularly bad one.

While Jaglom called for a patrol car to go to the delivery company, Derek and I spoke quietly and reached a decision. As soon as Jaglom was off the phone, Derek revealed that Max was alive and completely innocent. He explained about the harassment Max had endured three years earlier and the circumstances behind his staged death. The detective trusted Derek completely, but that didn’t mean he was about to pass on interrogating Max. So I led Jaglom to Max’s room, where he spent almost an hour interviewing my friend. When Max and Jaglom walked out to the kitchen, the relief on Max’s face brought tears to my eyes.

A few minutes later, I took Lee and Jaglom over to Sergio’s place, where I hung out while the cops spent another forty-five minutes interviewing my neighbors. Given everything they’d been through today, I wondered if any of them would ever speak to me again. But they all hugged me and assured me they would, so at least I had that.

On our way across the hall to my place, I asked the inspectors if they’d made any headway on Joe’s murder.

They exchanged glances; then Jaglom said, “Our lead suspect just showed up in a box.”

I winced at that, then opened my front door in time to see the medical examiner leave. He and his assistant were steering a gurney that held the body of Angelica wrapped in a thick black plastic bag.

Another assistant followed, wheeling a dolly that supported the crate that had contained her body. I couldn’t suppress a shudder as it passed by me.

Back in the kitchen, Lee looked around. “Have we talked to everyone now?”

I thought for a moment. “Everyone but Minka.”

Lee gasped and her face turned into a mask of terror. “LaBoeuf? She was here?”

I bit back a laugh. “It’s a long story, but yes. You might say she crashed the party.”

Jaglom saw Lee’s expression and laughed. “I’ve interviewed her twice before during our last two investigations. It’s your turn, Janice.”

“No freaking way,” Lee muttered darkly as they both packed up their notepads. I walked them out of my place and down to the freight elevator.

Jaglom was still laughing. “She’s a nice girl once you get to know her.”

Lee snorted. “She’s a rabid dog.”

Jaglom laughed and turned to me. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks,” I said. I thought I heard Inspector Lee growling as I walked back to my place.

Minutes after I got inside and locked the door, my telephone rang with two quick rings, then nothing. It was the doorbell. Again.

“I’m afraid to answer it,” I said, flashing Derek an apprehensive look. But I picked up the phone anyway and said hello.

“Hey, babe.”

Gabriel. My stomach relaxed and I buzzed him in. He bypassed the slow freight elevator and took the stairs and arrived at my door in a minute flat.

I couldn’t bear to sit in the living room where Angelica’s body had lain for the past three hours (memo to self: grab some of Mom’s cleansing white sage to purify and chase away the dead-body vibes in my living room), so we moved into my workroom and sat at the high table. I’d taught private classes in my home, so there were four comfortable high chairs. If someone else showed up, they would have to stand. I doubted that would be a problem.

I served hors d’oeuvres: more cookies, plus the last of some Brie I had in the fridge and half a bag of potato chips. Wine for me, beer for the guys. Nobody complained.

We amused Gabriel with the horrific story of the body in the box, plus the murdered delivery guy.

“Sorry I missed the fun,” Gabriel said with black humor.

I gave him a dark look, but conceded, “This means that Solomon is a sure bet for Joe Taylor’s murderer.”