Julianna Morris - Honor Bound

She didn’t know what kind of man Ben was now, but it didn’t matter. He had no right to criticize Shanna or make snide comments about someone who couldn’t defend herself.

Ben opened the door and flipped his thumb in command. “We need to talk.”

“We can talk at City Hall.”

“No, here.” He stood with his legs apart, a looming figure of authority until Kelly slid from the Jeep again.

“What is so vital it can’t wait?” Honestly, if he had the nerve to say anything more about her mother, she’d scream. Let him explain that to the neighbors when they came running.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re the author of the Deep mystery-novels?”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “How do you know?”

“Give me some credit. I remember from when we dated that you wanted to be a writer. Then there’s the way you acted when I questioned you about the books. Not to mention the steno pad I borrowed from your desk yesterday…with an outline of the next two books in the series.”

Now he knew and it was a relief. At least she wouldn’t have to screw up her courage, looking for the right moment to tell him.

“Fine, I’m the author. What difference does it make?”

“To start, why keep it a secret?”

“I like my privacy. Is that so bad?”

“That depends on what you’re hiding.”

“I’M NOT HIDING ANYTHING,” Kelly said hotly.

“Except your identity.”

“There’s a difference between wanting my privacy and having something to hide. You don’t know what it was like when I was growing up…how…” She stopped, her cheeks pale.

“How what?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You always assumed I was like my mother, the way everyone else did.”

There was enough truth in the accusation that Ben knew it was wiser to keep his mouth shut.

Kelly crossed her arms over her stomach and mulishly set her chin. “Anyway, I didn’t do anything wrong. I was going to tell you sooner or later that I was Griffin Bell. But there shouldn’t have been any rush since you claimed you were concerned the author was all right, not that you wanted to ask about the murder.”

Fair enough, yet Ben was still annoyed. Kelly had been thwarting him since the day he’d started work at the police department.

“Writers like publicity to increase their book sales. Why didn’t you capitalize on the media attention?”

“I would never take advantage of something so tragic for my benefit,” Kelly snapped. “It’s bad enough that people are saying the murders are alike. How could I announce out of the blue that I’d written them? The books are fiction. What happened to Simon and Harvey is real life.”

Fiction?

Maybe.

But the homeless character had appeared in the second book of the series; that novel could have been written after Kelly met Simon.

“How much are your stories inspired by real people?” Ben asked. “Harvey Bryant, for example…or Simon? Were they recreated in your story?”

She made a visible effort to calm down. “Definitely not Harvey. He was lousy to his employees, but I can’t see him being dishonest like the character in Deep Sea. As for Simon, getting to know him did give me ideas. He puzzled me. He was intelligent, articulate, informed about the world…. I didn’t consciously describe him in the book, but I realized later that a lot of the details were the same.”

“So you thought he was more than just a bum.”

“Of course I did. Kids don’t grow up saying, ‘gee, I want to live under a bridge someday.’ He was special, but I’m sure if you got to know any homeless person you’d discover they’re more than what they seem.”

Her defense surprised Ben; she must have cared a great deal about Simon. The man was an enigma. The autopsy had revealed that he was in fair shape for a guy living on the streets, with a relatively healthy liver for a supposed alcoholic. He also had two, old gunshot-scars and an eagle tattoo on his arm. They’d entered his data into the National Crime Information Center’s Unidentified Person System. Now all they could do was wait until they got a break.

“Is there anything else you want to know?” Kelly asked. “I have a job to do.”

“Not right now.”

They returned to City Hall in silence. Kelly hurried away without a word, and his life didn’t improve when he got to his own office. Viv was waiting.

“You have a press conference at noon,” she said, handing him a file. “I wouldn’t have to run down here like this if he’d just give us back the internet in City Hall.”

Damn. He removed a memorandum from the mayor and saw in big, bold letters across the top, “Full Disclosure.” He read further and narrowed his eyes.

In the interest of keeping the public fully informed about the Police Department’s efforts to catch the dock murderers, all details of the investigation are to be released to the media. We cannot appear to be less than candid.

“Excuse me,” Ben said tightly.

He crossed to City Hall and took the stairs two at a time. The day-shift officer assigned to guard the mayor jumped to attention. “Sir?”

“Take a ten-minute break, Officer Mullen.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Mayor Stone looked up as Ben threw open his door without knocking. “Yes, Police Chief Santoni?”

“I just read your memo.”

“Being open and honest is the best policy.”

“That isn’t good police work.”

The mayor put his fingertips together with an air of exaggerated patience. “So far your ‘good police work’ hasn’t resulted in an arrest.”

“Giving up one of our few advantages won’t change that. It’s standard to keep certain details of an investigation confidential. Do you want to be responsible for making our job harder?”

Stone scowled. He might not be brilliant, but he wasn’t a dumb politician. “If you really think it’s important, we’ll do it your way. At least for a while.”

“I appreciate your support,” Ben said, a hint of irony in his voice.

“I’ve always supported the police department. Naturally it was easier when my brother was the police chief. He did such a splendid job for this community, the crime rate was practically zero.”

Right.

The Stone brothers at the helm of Sand Point.

Small-town nepotism at its finest.

Only the crime rate hadn’t been “practically zero” under Frank Stone’s lazy management, it had been increasing. The majority of the infractions were misdemeanors like vandalism and shoplifting, but little had made it into official reports. The issues were simply written in the dispatcher’s log; it was easy to have a clean record when you didn’t keep any records.

“Chief, I’m wondering about your late arrival this morning. If the position is too much for you to handle, I’m sure Frank would be willing to come back,” the mayor added with a thin smile. “He doesn’t have child-care responsibilities or other distractions to take him away from his official duties.”

Ben returned the smile with one that was equally insincere. “I wasn’t late. I was conducting an investigation. Since the detectives the city hired are so inexperienced, it’s necessary for me to supplement their efforts. I’m managing my responsibilities just fine.”

Uneasiness crept into Phillip Stone’s eyes, though it was hard to tell why. “We’ll see. What have you learned about the death threats against me?”

“The lab hasn’t found fingerprints or DNA on the letters, including the latest one.”

“Are the threats credible?”

Ben hesitated. “I doubt it, but crackpots aren’t always this careful. They usually leave evidence behind, that could suggest that this is a professional.”