Chapter One
Anza-Borrego Desert State Park
Borrego Springs, California
Saturday, January 7, 12:30 p.m.
“Be careful,” Sam said, pointing to a shrub next to the trail. “That’s a catclaw. Its thorns are sharp.”
“Okay,” Kit said, giving the bush a wide berth and tugging on Snickerdoodle’s leash to make sure that she kept her distance as well.
Their hike so far had been filled with similar safety callouts from Sam and not much else. It was…
Awkward, Kit thought with a wince. This date was not bad but just so awkward, and she had no idea what to do about it. The desert itself was beautiful in a stark way, and Sam had chosen a less traveled trail. They’d had complete solitude, not having seen another hiker for miles. The weather, while unforgiving in the summer, was perfect during the winter. The skies were clear, the cool breeze refreshing.
But as pretty as the landscape was, this day had been uncomfortable as hell.
Sam had picked her and Snickerdoodle up that morning and right away Kit had known something was wrong. Usually sweet and calm, Sam was tense and overly polite.
It was like they were strangers.
I’ve messed things up already, and I don’t even know what I did wrong, she thought sadly.
The drive to the park had been quiet, their minimal conversation stilted. Sam had asked her a few questions in a cautious tone, and she’d replied equally cautiously in sentences that never managed to be more than a few words.
They’d started their hike in a muted mood, with Sam pointing out landmarks and plants like he was a tour guide. Brisk, efficient, but impersonal.
I have to fix this. Because not only did Sam sound impersonal, he seemed sad, which she couldn’t stand. Especially if she’d caused it. Abruptly she stopped on the trail, Snickerdoodle obediently sitting at her side.
Sam had taken a few steps forward before realizing she was no longer beside him. Carefully he turned so that he and Siggy faced her. Sam’s expression was blank, and Kit’s heart dropped to her stomach. “Kit? You okay?”
“No.” Her voice shook and she drew a breath. “I’m sorry.”
His shoulders sagged, disappointment unmistakable in his eyes. “I know.”
Panic flared, and she realized just how much she’d wanted this date to go well. How much she’d wanted to see Sam happy. “I did something. Ruined something. You’re not happy. We’re here, in the desert, and you’re supposed to be happy.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about? I thought…”
She took a step closer. “What?”
His throat worked as he swallowed. “I thought that you were going to say that this date was a mistake.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
He studied her face. “You’re not thinking this was a mistake?”
“No. Just…” She kept her gaze focused on his. “I was scared of today.”
“I figured you would be. I thought for sure you’d find a reason to cancel on me.”
“I almost did.”
One side of his mouth lifted in an almost-smile. “Not a shock. Who talked you into coming?”
“Rita,” she said dolefully. “And Pop. Called me out on my bullshit. Is that why you’ve been so distant all day? You thought I was about to call this a mistake?”
He nodded warily. “Were you?”
She did look away then, taking in the desert around them. It really was beautiful. “I don’t think so. I wanted to come here. With you. Wanted you to show me the desert and why you love it. But it’s been more than six weeks since I asked you on this date. Enough time to second-guess myself. And maybe to second-guess you. You could have anyone. Everyone tells me so. I still don’t know why you seem to want to be with me.”
And that was the honest truth.
“Kit.” He waited until she met his eyes again. “My feelings haven’t changed. I want to be with you, but I don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for. I can wait. You’re worth waiting for.”
She took another step forward, now so close that she could see the thick dark lashes framing his green eyes behind his Clark Kent glasses. Could see the freckles sprinkled across his nose now that he’d gotten some sun.
She could see his sincerity, the very thing that had originally drawn her to him. And suddenly she wasn’t afraid anymore, because this was Sam. Other than her father, Sam was the kindest, gentlest man she knew. He would respect her limitations. And he’d protect her heart.
She needed to protect his as well.
“I’m ready for this date.” She reached out, gripped his jacket, tugging him closer. “I want to know you better.”
His chest expanded with the breath he drew. “Thank God,” he muttered, his hands coming up to cup her face, sending a shiver down her spine and over her skin. “I’ve tried to give you space.”
“Don’t,” she said simply, releasing her hold on his jacket and sliding her hands around his neck. “I…I missed you,” she admitted.
His smile was pure delight. “You did?”
“I did. It’s been too long since we went on our fishing date.” She rose on her toes. “Too long since you kissed me good night.”
His swallow was audible. “Thought about that, did you?”
“I did. Did you?”
“Yeah. Every night. Every morning. And maybe a few times during the day.”
“Same,” she whispered, their lips now brushing. An almost-kiss. If she leaned up just a little, she could kiss him for real. She closed the distance between them and then his mouth was finally on hers. His kiss was sweet and undemanding, but his hands, still cupping her face, trembled.
He wanted more.
And so do I.
Dimly the sound of barking intruded. Two different barks. Two different dogs.
Dogs.
Snickerdoodle.
Kit no longer held her leash.
Shit.
They pulled away at the same time, each looking around for their dogs because Sam had dropped Siggy’s leash, too.
“Siggy!” he called.
“Snickerdoodle!” Kit shouted, then huffed a relieved breath when Snick came trotting around a cluster of small boulders, her tail wagging. But she was alone. No sign of Siggy.
Sam left the trail, taking off at a jog. Kit grabbed Snickerdoodle’s leash and followed him.
Then stopped dead in her tracks.
“Dead” being the operative word.
Siggy had a shoe in his mouth. A man’s wingtip, size eleven or thereabouts. The shoe’s mate was half buried in the sand on a man’s foot.
A very dead man, lying faceup in the desert sand.
What was left of his face, anyway. The animals of the desert had been snacking.
So gross.
The body was positioned in a hollow beneath the boulders, sheltered from the wind. Still, the sand had swept over the body, covering the legs, one foot, and part of one arm.
Accident or murder? She took a few steps closer and had her answer. The man’s neck was an open gash, now home to dozens of flies. His throat had clearly been slit, ear to ear.
Be careful what you wish for, she thought, remembering how she’d hoped for a murder the night before.
Kit glanced at Sam, whose gaze was fixed on the man’s face, his eyes wide, his face slack with shock. “Sam? You okay?”
He cleared his throat roughly. “Well, shit.”
She nodded once. “Shit indeed. I need to call this in.”
“Wait.” He edged closer, gaze still fixed on the victim. “Look at his face.”
“I did. There isn’t enough left for a clear ID. The ME will likely have to use dental records or DNA. He—”
“No, Kit. Look at him. I know him.”
Startled, Kit crouched at the dead man’s side. And then she recognized him, too. Or at least the tribal-style tattoo that wound up his neck, ending behind what had been his ear. “Well, shit.”
Sam huffed a mirthless laugh. “Shit indeed. That’s Councilman Brooks Munro.”
Of the San Diego city council.
Kit scowled down at the body. “This is not gonna be fun.”
“Our second-favorite local politician,” Sam said, his tone dripping with disdain.
Kit looked up at him in surprise. She’d never heard him use that caustic tone before and wondered what his experience had been with the councilman, who had a reputation of being very charismatic and charming. At the same time, Kit had heard rumors of impropriety, but nothing had ever been proven.
“Who’s the first?” she asked, although she thought she knew.
He met her gaze. “Drummond.”
Drummond had resigned his seat after being charged with murder, but Kit took Sam’s point. She still wondered why Sam hated this councilman. “Munro has been missing for a few days,” she said.
“I know,” he said flatly. “I saw it on the news.”
“He was reported by his wife, who’s been out of town. Two officers did a welfare check and found blood on his garage floor. Enough that they assumed that he’d been seriously injured.”
Sam grimaced. “I’d say he was seriously injured. Oh shit. Kit. His hands…”
Kit sighed. The victim’s fingers were missing, as were the toes on his exposed foot. “Could have been animals.”
“God, I hope so. But you don’t think so.”
“No, I don’t.” Because now that she was closer, she could also see the stab wounds in the man’s chest. She counted at least twenty at first glance. Someone had really wanted this man to suffer. “But the ME will tell us for sure. Let me call it in.”
She pulled her phone from her pocket, but she had no signal. “Dammit.”
“Wait.” Sam dropped to one knee and began rifling through his backpack, piling its contents on the sand until he found what he’d been looking for. “Here.” He held out a phone. “Sat phone. You’ll get a signal with that.”
“Do you always carry a sat phone?”
“Yep. It’s a safety thing. Siggy and I hike in remote areas. Cell signals are never a given.”
She glanced down at him while she searched her phone for her boss’s contact information. “Are those…Sam, do you have night-vision goggles?”
He looked up, expression slightly embarrassed. “Christmas present from my parents. I promised I’d carry them with me, just in case. I also packed a picnic lunch, but I don’t think I have any appetite anymore.” He loaded everything into his pack and stood, his expression now pained as he turned his back on the body. “Please call Lieutenant Navarro, Kit. I want to get away from here as soon as we possibly can.”
Kit hated to tell him that it would likely be hours before they could leave. So she merely dialed Navarro’s number.
“Navarro. Who is this?” her boss answered brusquely.
“It’s Kit. We’ve got a situation here.”
San Diego PD, San Diego, California
Saturday, January 7, 5:30 p.m.
Connor Robinson stuck his head in Lieutenant Navarro’s office. “So you two just happened to find the one missing body in nearly one thousand square miles of state park?”
Kit and Sam were in her boss’s office, waiting on Navarro to debrief them. They’d dropped the dogs off with Harlan and Betsy, and Kit had picked up her own car, knowing that her day was far from over. Hopefully Navarro would let Sam go home as soon as they’d reviewed his statement, but Kit had the awful feeling that her boss would keep her far longer.
Don’t assign me this case. Please.
“I’d bet a week’s pay that it’s not the only body hidden in the park,” Kit told her partner.
Sam made a pained sound, and Kit patted his hand. “You okay?”
“No,” Sam grumbled. “Day’s ruined. Date’s ruined. And I’m never going to get the sight of his face out of my mind.”
Connor made a sympathetic face. “That sucks, man. Sorry your date was ruined.”
Sam made another grumbling sound that was cuter than it should have been.
“We’ll have another date,” Kit promised. “A no-dead-body date. I promise.”
“Okay.” But he still frowned, and Kit felt bad for him.
Munro’s body really had been a gruesome sight, and Sam had handled it better than a lot of people would have. She knew that he’d seen bodies before, but Munro’s was…extreme.
Even for me.
“What are you doing here today anyway?” Kit asked Connor. “It’s Saturday. Did we catch another case?”
“No. I heard about the body and that it was discovered by an SDPD cop. I knew you’d headed up that way so I wanted to find out if you were the ones who’d found it.”
It was Kit’s turn to frown. “How did you hear about the body?”
Connor grinned. “Baz called me. He’d heard it through the station’s grapevine. I have to say I’m miffed that you didn’t at least text me.”
Kit rolled her eyes. “Baz has been surgically grafted to the grapevine, I think.” Her former partner had retired after having a heart attack nine months before. She missed him terribly, but she and Connor had found their stride together. “And I didn’t text you because you were supposed to be with CeCe today.”
“Her mom twisted her knee and CeCe took her to the doctor.” He shrugged. “So I came in. Oh, sorry, sir.” He abruptly moved to one side of the doorway, making room for Navarro, who looked unhappy. “See you later.”
“No,” Navarro said. “You stay.”
Connor winced, and Kit had to swallow a groan. If Connor was staying, it meant they’d be working Munro’s murder investigation.
Which sucked, because this was going to be a bitch of a case. The suspect list was already a mile long. His constituents seemed to love him, but few people in law enforcement liked Brooks Munro. In fact, too many people hated his guts.
Navarro pointed to her and Sam. “You two. It’s always you two.”
Kit bristled. “Sir?”
Sam’s mouth fell open. “I beg your pardon?”
“Trouble just seems to find you,” Navarro muttered, sitting down at his desk. “And you can’t even deny it.”
Sam sighed. “No, I guess I can’t, but it’s not like we found the body on purpose. It spoiled our entire day. And my appetite for the next week.”
Navarro’s lips twitched. “It was pretty bad.” He shifted his attention to his computer. “Good initial report, Kit. All the particulars are here. Brooks Munro, age fifty-one, city councilman. Was last seen alive on Wednesday by his office administrator. He didn’t show up to work on Thursday, didn’t return his wife’s calls. Wife, who was out of town, requested a wellness check. Cops found blood on his garage floor. Car was missing.” He looked up, brows lifted. “It wasn’t just a car, Kit. It was a goddamned Ferrari. Do we have footage from his home security cameras?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I figured the lead detectives would request it.” Please don’t make us leads.
Navarro just looked at her. “Request the footage, Kit.”
Dammit. She sighed, and Connor slumped in his chair. “Fine,” she muttered.
Navarro cleared his throat, and both Kit and Connor straightened.
“I mean, yes, sir,” she said. “Of course, sir.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Suck-up.”
Navarro shook his head. “Was he killed in the desert or his own garage?”
Kit opened the Notes app on her phone. She and Sam had stayed at the scene until both SDPD’s CSU and ME teams had arrived and had begun processing the scene. “From what I saw, there was blood in the sand under the body after the ME removed it. I don’t know yet how deep it went. But that alone indicates he was likely killed there in Anza-Borrego. ME’s initial opinion was that he died from the wound to his throat.”
Beside her, Sam shuddered but said nothing. She wanted to pat his hand again, but she was acutely aware of Navarro’s gaze. So she soldiered on.
“I don’t know where the stab wounds were made. I counted at least twenty. Alicia says she’ll give me an exact count when she gets the body on the table.” Dr.Alicia Batra had arrived on the scene about forty-five minutes after CSU had trudged in from where they’d parked their van. “Sand covered part of his lower body, so there could be more. Or wounds on his back.”
“Will she be able to give us some idea as to the murder weapon?” Navarro asked.
“Maybe. The wounds looked different, one from the other. Some looked deep, others looked shallow. Some were just slices through his skin. My first impression was that someone had wanted him to suffer.”
“I wish I were shocked,” Navarro said dryly.
“That man made a lot of enemies,” Connor said. “This is gonna be fun.”
From his tone it was clear that he meant the opposite.
Sam had begun to frown, and Kit quietly murmured, “Sam?”
Sam blew out a sigh. “I met him only once and instantly hated him.”
“Join the club,” Navarro said. “What did he do to you, Dr.Reeves?”
“Back in August, I was tasked by the New Horizons board to meet with the city council members because they were about to vote for a funding package.”
Navarro leaned forward, brows knit. “New Horizons, the teen shelter?”
Sam nodded. “I’ve volunteered there for several years now. I did a presentation to the whole council, but a few members were absent, so I made one-on-one appointments with them. Munro was my last appointment. Only about half of the members had been receptive to the funding and Munro might have been a tiebreaker. He seemed on board, at first. But as I was packing up my materials to leave, he said that he expected I’d be ‘grateful’ for his vote.”
Kit tensed. Sam was the nicest guy, and Munro pulled that shit with him?
“Did you ask what he meant?” Navarro asked.
“Oh yes. I was…stunned. I wasn’t expecting it and I should have. I’d heard the rumors, but he’d been so agreeable up until that moment.” His cheeks darkened. “I’m embarrassed to say that he caught me off guard.”
“Don’t be,” Navarro said. “He was a smooth character. Oozed charm when he wanted to. We’ve suspected him of taking kickbacks for years but haven’t been able to make anything stick.”
“Still is embarrassing. I’m supposed to be able to read people. Anyway, he said that he heard that I was responsible for the psychological exams on defendants currently up for trial, and then my guard went up. I asked him which defendant, in particular. He said, ‘Ronald Tasker.’ I’d just been assigned Tasker’s exam the day before.”
Navarro whistled softly. “Tasker tried a mental illness defense for the murder of his wife. He slit her throat and chopped her into pieces.”
“Munro’s throat was slit,” Kit said. “And before that, he’d been sliced and diced. Connection?”
“Maybe,” Navarro allowed. “Put it on your list, Kit. At least Tasker’s defense didn’t work. He’s doing life without parole. You didn’t do his psych exam, did you, Sam?”
“No. I was so shaken when I left that I didn’t know what to do at first, but then I called Joel.”
Sam’s best friend, Joel Haley, was one of San Diego’s lead prosecutors. Kit was glad he’d had someone to turn to. Still, she wondered why Sam hadn’t called her first.
And then she got it. He’d met with Munro in August, when she’d been actively avoiding Sam Reeves at all costs.
You could have helped him, but you were too chickenshit to admit you liked him.
She swallowed her sigh. She couldn’t change that now. She could only be there for him in the future.
“Joel said there wasn’t anything we could do,” Sam went on. “That it was my word against Munro’s. But he got me pulled from the case. Joel gave the new psychologist a heads-up that he might be approached to alter his testimony, but that didn’t happen.”
“Did Munro say anything more to you?” Navarro asked.
“No. But he voted against the New Horizons funding proposal. Luckily I’d garnered enough support from the other council members that he wasn’t a tiebreaker.”
Luck had nothing to do with it, Kit thought, pride warming her from the inside out. Sam was good with people, and he could convince a rock to dance.
He’d gotten through to Kit, after all, when she’d been determined to fight her attraction.
“I wonder if there are any other cases Munro tried to influence,” Kit murmured.
Connor groaned. “It’s not like there weren’t enough suspects already.”
“You keep saying that,” Navarro commented dryly. “Make a list. Start asking questions. If you need backup, I’ll call for someone. I want an update in four hours. I can hold the captain off that long. I’m sure he’s already heard from the mayor. Also, I heard that the wife is now home. Go talk to her.” He made a shooing motion at the door. “Off with you.”
Kit gathered her things and followed Connor and Sam out of Navarro’s office, hearing the door click loudly behind them.
They’d been dismissed.
“Can you sign out a car so we can notify the widow?” Kit asked Connor. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Sure, if you’ll take lead on the notification. Bye, Sam. Don’t be a stranger.”
Kit turned to Sam with a sad smile. “I’m sorry our date was ruined.”
“You promised me another,” he said in a low tone that sent shivers over her skin.
She swallowed. “I did. I’ll think of something good.”
He brushed his finger over the back of her hand, discreetly enough that no one would have noticed had they been watching. “I think it’s my turn.”
She drew a breath. “You’re on. And, for the record, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Munro was a snake.”
Sam’s brows lifted. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing directly to me, but I’ve heard rumors of his dishonesty. Accepting bribes on building projects, mostly. But no one ever comes forward to file a formal complaint, and I’ve also heard that many of his constituents gush about how wonderful he is. Especially his female constituents. He was a good-looking man.” Before the animals ate his face, she thought, but kept that to herself because that seemed to have bothered Sam the most. “Like Navarro said, he was a charmer when he wanted to be. Particularly if he needed something from you. His expectation of quid pro quo from you didn’t surprise me, but I’m still so mad at what he did to you.”
Sam’s mouth curled at the corners. “Aw, shucks, ma’am.”
She laughed. “Go on. Enjoy what’s left of your day off. I have to go to work.”
He started for the door, then turned. “I can bring you supper. I’m going to your folks’ house to pick up Siggy and I’m sure your mother will insist on feeding me. She’ll make plates for both you and Connor. I have to come back this way, anyway.”
“Thank you,” she said, touched. This man. He’s too good for me. “Text before you leave Mom and Pop’s house, just in case we’re out interviewing someone.”
“I will. Be careful, Kit.”
“I will. And Sam? I had a good time today. Before the dogs found Munro, anyway. We should go back to the park sometime.”
He grinned. “I knew I could get you to like the desert.” He turned for the door, a distinct spring in his step.
I think you could get me to like too many things, she thought. Then she straightened her shoulders.
It was time to find out who’d killed Brooks Munro.
Rancho Penasquitos, California
Saturday, January 7, 6:30 p.m.
“Whoa.” Sitting in the passenger seat of their department car, Kit stared at the monstrosity that had been Brooks Munro’s home. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the lives of the wealthy. It was a totally different world.
Based on what she could see from the base of his driveway, Munro’s home was impeccably landscaped with perfectly sculpted trees and a lawn without a single crooked blade of grass.
Unlike their owner. Munro had been as crooked as they came.
Kit was still angry about what Munro had tried to do to Sam. Sam Reeves was a good man who’d never compromise his ethics.
“You’re grinding your teeth,” Connor commented. “Still mad about Munro trying to trade favors with Sammy?”
She sighed. “I used to be more inscrutable.”
Connor chuckled. “And meaner. You’re nicer now. You’re also taking lead on this notification, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Yeah, yeah.” It was her turn anyway, so Connor wasn’t getting away with anything. “Wilhelmina Munro is the surviving spouse. She’s sixty-one, ten years older than Munro. They were married for five years.”
“She’s also old money,” Connor said. “Really old.”
“How do you know that?” Kit asked, reviewing the background she’d run while Connor drove. “All I found was that she’s a twice-married retired yoga teacher without even a parking ticket. I figured it was Munro’s money that financed this place.”
He lifted a brow. “That, Kit, is sexist.”
She snorted a laugh, because she’d schooled him on his patriarchal attitudes many times in the past. “You’re right. I’m sorry. So how do you know she’s old money?”
“The background check should have shown her maiden name was Cliff.”
“It did. So?”
“She’s the granddaughter of Jonas Cliff. You know, the founder of Cliff Hotels.”
“Oh. Even I’ve heard of him. So her money comes from a hotel empire?”
“It does. But this house is actually in Munro’s name, which is why you assumed he’d financed this place. Wilhelmina bought it for him. Gave it to him as a wedding gift.”
“How do you know that?”
“I asked my mom,” Connor said smugly. “She keeps a list of all the rich people so that she can hit them up for donations whenever her club’s doing a fundraiser. She knows all the gossip about everyone. I remembered her saying that she’d gotten money from Wilhelmina for one of her charities, so I called her when you were saying goodbye to Sammy. I figured we’d need a little inside information.”
Kit studied the mansion. It was easily ten thousand square feet. The detached garage alone was nearly the size of her parents’ farmhouse. “Hell of a wedding gift. I wonder if the widow knows that Munro was a slimeball?”
“According to my mom, Wilhelmina’s been living on her family’s estate near Boston for the past month. The gossip’s been all over the country club. Everyone thinks she finally found out he’d been cheating on her.”
“She owns an estate in Boston? That didn’t come up on her background check, either. Only a bungalow she used to own in Mission Beach.”
“The estate may be owned by a trust, but as the last surviving Cliff, it’s hers.”
“I wonder what Wilhelmina will tell us about him.” Then his words sank in. “Wait. Your parents hobnob in the same country club as Munro?”
“They’re members, but no hobnobbing with Munro has ever happened. My folks didn’t like him because he bragged about everything.”
Kit hesitated. “Your mom knows to keep this under her hat for now, right?”
Connor nodded. “You can trust her, Kit. She inferred that Munro was dead from my question about his wife and wished us luck with our suspect list.”
“Then let’s get busy notifying Wilhelmina so we can start building that list.”
Connor started up the long driveway. “There’s someone on the front porch.”
An elderly man stood at the front door, weary resignation on his lined face.
“They knew we were coming,” Kit said logically. “The guard at the front gate had to have called them after we drove through. I wonder who he is.”
Connor released his seat belt. “Let’s get this over with.”
Together they approached the front door, eyeing the man with wary curiosity. He looked to be somewhere in his seventies.
“Good evening,” Kit said. “I’m Detective McKittrick, and this is Detective Robinson. We’re here to talk to Mrs.Munro.”
The man sniffed. “To tell her that her sonofabitch husband is dead. She already knows.”
Kit shouldn’t have been surprised. They’d suppressed as much information as they could, but a lot of people had been aware of emergency vehicles and police gathered in the park. It hadn’t made the news yet, but it was just a matter of time.
“How did she hear the news?” Connor asked.
“A reporter called, asking for a comment. Miz Wilhelmina hung up without saying a word.”
“Your name, sir?” Kit asked.
“Jake Rafferty. I’m Miz Wilhelmina’s caretaker.”
Kit kept her expression neutral, despite her surprise. “Caretaker? Is she ill?”
Rafferty shook his head. “I take care of her house in Boston. I came with her. Just in case.”
In case of what? Kit wondered. In case Munro was dead? In case Wilhelmina needed the older man? In what capacity might that be?
“When did you arrive in San Diego?” Kit asked.
“This afternoon. We took the first flight out. She was worried about that lying SOB.”
They’d have to check this man’s alibi. Hopefully he’d been where he claimed. They didn’t have a solid time of death, but Munro had been dumped in the desert no later than that morning. Probably the night before.
“Did you know Mr.Munro well?” Connor asked.
Rafferty laughed, a rasping sound. “Are you asking me if I killed him, Detective? The answer is no. I did not. But I’d like to buy a beer for whoever did. I knew him well enough. I know he lied and connived and got Miz Wilhelmina to marry him so he could get at her money. I know he was catting around on her before the ink was dry on the marriage license. I know that he was a cheating, boozing, abusive SOB. I know I had to put Miz Wil back together when she finally came home. He’d all but broken her. For that alone, he needed to be dealt with. But I did not do it.”
“Raffie,” a voice gently admonished. “Ask the detectives in, please.”
Wilhelmina Munro stood in the doorway, her face in shadow. She was a tall woman, her back straight, her shoulders stiff. She exuded exhaustion.
Kit wanted to yawn just looking at her.
Rafferty motioned to the door with a gnarled, arthritic hand. “Go on in.”
Wilhelmina led them to a living room decorated in chrome and black leather. It was a masculine room, and the chair the woman had chosen dwarfed her slim body. “Please sit, Detectives. Can I offer you a drink?”
“No thank you, ma’am,” Connor said, sitting on the sofa closest to Wilhelmina. Kit took a chair that allowed her to watch both Wilhelmina and Rafferty, who’d remained in the room’s arched doorway. “You know why we’re here?”
Wilhelmina nodded once, a regal dip of her head. Her hair was an ash blond with a liberal sprinkling of gray. She was a classically beautiful woman with a bone structure most models would kill for. No wrinkles marred her skin. She had either great genes or an excellent plastic surgeon. Other than the gray in her hair, she looked no older than forty.
“My husband is dead,” she said, her voice shaky. She was genuinely distressed or a reasonably good actress. Maybe a bit of both. “His body was found in the desert this afternoon.”
“We’re sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Kit said respectfully.
“No loss,” Rafferty muttered loudly.
Wilhelmina sighed. “Raffie, please.”
Rafferty grunted. “Sorry.”
Kit was pretty sure he wasn’t sorry at all. “If we might ask, who told you of your husband’s death?”
“A reporter called a few hours ago,” she said. “Told me that my husband had been murdered, his body dumped in Anza-Borrego. That hikers and their dogs had discovered his body.” She swallowed. “That his throat had been slit.”
That reporter had a damn good source. At least Mrs.Munro didn’t know it had been Kit and Sam who’d done the discovering.
“Did you get the reporter’s name, ma’am?” Connor asked, no happier about the leak than Kit was.
Wilhelmina’s lips thinned. “Tamsin Kavanaugh.”
Kit tried to shove down the growl that rose in her throat. Tamsin Fucking Kavanaugh. That woman had been a thorn in Kit’s side for as long as she’d been a cop.
Wilhelmina’s laugh was mirthless. “I agree, Detective McKittrick. I was no happier to hear from her than you are when she hounds you for a story.”
Startled, Kit met the woman’s eyes. Apparently, she hadn’t hidden her reaction as well as she’d hoped. “Excuse me?”
“I read the paper, Detective. I know who you are. Who you both are,” she added, gesturing to Connor. “I’ve read Kavanaugh’s articles about you, and she’s a sorry excuse for a reporter.” She looked away. “She also had an affair with my husband.”
Oh wow. “Recently?” Kit asked, managing to keep her voice level.
Wilhelmina shook her head. “A few years ago. It was a mutually beneficial relationship for both of them, other than the obvious, of course. Kavanaugh got an in at city hall and Brooks got good press coverage. Again, I have no proof, and my husband denied it, but I figured it out.”
Kit blew out a breath. “Of all people, I’m sorry that you had to hear it from her.”
“So am I. What questions can I answer? I’m truly exhausted.”
“We’ll be as quick as we can,” Kit promised. “You were the one who reported your husband missing. What prompted you to do so? Did you speak often?”
“No, we did not,” Wilhelmina said with ill-concealed derision. “We separated a month ago, and we rarely spoke on the phone. I called him on Wednesday evening because my bank had informed me by email that he’d withdrawn a large sum of money from our joint account. It was the account we used for this house—to pay the taxes, upkeep, that kind of thing. We were overdrawn, and I always get notified when that happens.”
“How much did he withdraw?” Connor asked.
“Fifty thousand dollars. He transferred it from the joint account to one of his personal accounts.”
Kit wondered what Munro had done with the money. “So you called him and he didn’t answer?”
“Yes, but that didn’t surprise me. I figured he wouldn’t, given that he’d taken that money without informing me. He did that sometimes, took money from that account when he’d spent his allowance.”
From all Kit had heard about Munro’s arrogance, being on an allowance must have steamed him. She made a mental note to subpoena Munro’s bank records.
“Do you have access to his personal accounts, ma’am?” Connor asked, on the same page.
“No, I do not. He didn’t answer my call on Wednesday, so I called his office admin on her cell phone, because it was after hours at city hall. She said that he’d left for a meeting and had gone straight home afterward, but she’d relay my message the next morning.” She hesitated, then shrugged. “She’ll tell you when you interview her, so I might as well tell you now. I told her to tell him that I would put no more money in that account.” She sighed. “I might have called him a philandering ass. I was angry.”
“I can see that,” Kit murmured, wondering just how angry Wilhelmina might have been. Angry enough to hire someone to kill her husband? It wouldn’t be the first time an angry wife arranged for a hit on her cheating husband. The woman certainly had the money for a hit man.
“What is the name of his assistant?” Connor asked.
Wilhelmina’s expression grew frosty. “Veronica Fitzgerald. She may have known him better than I did. They’d known each other longer.”
Okay, Kit thought. There was ill feeling here. “How long had they known each other?”
“She worked for him for fifteen years, long before he became a city councilman. Back when he was in real estate.”
“They were fucking,” Raffie said bluntly.
Wilhelmina’s sigh was less than patient. “Raffie.”
“It’s true,” Rafferty said, unrepentant.
Kit cleared her throat. “Did you know this or only suspect?”
“Suspect,” Wilhelmina said firmly. “I never had proof that he cheated with any of his women, but I know that he did.” She lifted her chin, twin flags of embarrassed color on her cheeks. “As long as he kept it discreet, I didn’t rock the boat.”
Kit didn’t think Munro had kept it discreet at all, not if what Connor’s mother had said had been true. Wilhelmina and Munro had been the subjects of country club gossip.
“When did you call to report him missing?” Kit asked.
“Thursday, a little after noon Pacific time. I’d called Veronica again at nine a.m. and she said that he hadn’t come in to work. She sounded truly worried, and I knew he was alone here in the house. I thought maybe he’d fallen. He sometimes drank too much and…well, I despised him, but he was still my husband.”
“He didn’t sometimes drink too much,” Rafferty inserted. “He always drank too much. Sometimes he got violent. He hit Miz Wil. Gave her a black eye.”
Wilhelmina closed her eyes. “That’s true. That was what made me leave a month ago. I just packed my bags and left.”
“If he drank, cheated, and got violent, why didn’t you divorce him?” Connor asked softly.
Wilhelmina’s slim shoulders sagged. “Initially, it was because I was humiliated. Rafferty had tried to get me to see that he was a lying philanderer before we got married, but I refused to see it. Brooks had me utterly charmed. He always denied sleeping around, and I wanted to believe him. I finally decided to divorce him this last time, when he hit me. I had the papers drawn up, but I didn’t get a chance to sign them before this happened.”
“Would he have gotten much of your personal fortune?” Connor asked.
“Fuck no,” Rafferty snapped. “At least she listened to me on that.”
“He would not have,” Wilhelmina answered calmly. “And I never would have married him without a prenup, Raffie. You know that.”
“Maybe. But he was trying for an insane payoff in the case of divorce and you were looking like you were going to give in. The prenup her lawyer drew up kept Munro on a short leash.” He looked at Kit and Connor. “He wanted a million bucks in the event of divorce, but I threatened to put my foot up his fucking ass. He signed the prenup because he thought I was crazy enough to follow through.”
“Are you?” Kit asked. “Crazy enough to follow through?”
“Hell, yeah. I would have messed up his pretty face. I hated that man. He hurt my Wil. And nobody hurts my Wil.”
“How long has he been your protector?” Kit asked Wilhelmina.
“Since I was ten years old. Raffie was my father’s caretaker. He and his wife were like second parents to me, so you have to understand Raffie’s feelings about Brooks. I had to beg him not to get on a plane to California when I arrived in Boston with a black eye. I hated my husband for cheating on me and using me, but I didn’t kill him. Neither did Raffie.”
“So what prompted you to report him missing?” Kit pressed. “Why didn’t you assume he was avoiding you, instead of thinking he’d fallen in a drunken stupor?”
“He missed a meeting with the mayor on Thursday morning,” Wilhelmina said. “This was according to Veronica. I figured something bad had to have happened to keep him from going to that meeting. He was so proud of his access to the mayor. Bragged like he was the mayor’s BFF or something. He never missed an opportunity to flaunt his influence.”
There was something the woman wasn’t telling them. Kit could see it in her eyes. She’d come back later and ask the question again once she’d learned a little more about the players.
“Mrs.Munro, who do you think killed your husband?” she asked.
“I don’t know. He got hate mail every day from angry constituents. Maybe one of the construction firms he double-crossed.”
“That’s specific,” Connor noted.
“Yes, because that was what led to him hitting me. It’s been in my mind for the past month. Brooks thought it was hilarious, taking their money as bribes, then not following through on his promises. I heard him talking on the phone, saying things like, ‘What’re they gonna do? Report me? They’d be confessing.’?”
Connor’s head tilted. “You knew he was accepting bribes?”
“I knew that he bragged about it to someone—and I don’t know who he was talking to. I didn’t report him because I had no proof. I tried to get proof, but that was when he hit me. He caught me going through his office files and he was very angry.” She touched her eye, now healed. “I left that evening. I’d planned to come back for divorce proceedings, but this happened first.”
“Will you be in town long?” Connor asked.
“I’ll be here until he’s in the ground. Then I’m selling this awful house. Do you want to see the blood in the garage?”
Kit and Connor rose. “Yes, ma’am,” Connor said.
“I’m going to ask Raffie to show you. I can’t tonight. He’ll show you out. Raffie, let them search Brooks’s office, too. Whatever they want to take, they’re welcome to. Good night, Detectives.”
Kit shook her head. “Ma’am, you can’t stay here. At least not for a few days. Before, this house was the scene of a possible abduction. Missing Persons searched and released the scene, but now we have a homicide. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay somewhere else until we’ve done our searches.”
Wilhelmina sighed. “Then it’s a good thing I haven’t unpacked yet.”
“I’ll show them the garage,” Rafferty said with a huff. “Then I’ll find a place for us to stay, Miz Wil.”
“Thank you, Raffie.”