Archer
ARCHER
“ I t’s really too bad about what happened to Naomi, right?” The foursome—Naomi, Mason, Kallie, and Brent—rarely shared any classes. In fact, there was just one that all four of them attended; Econ 101, which is essentially thrust upon every student sliding into college and hoping to come out the other side with a modicum of useful knowledge.
Lucky for us, Dana Jefferson sat in that class, too.
“She was nice, ya know?”
“So you hung out with her?” Fletch’s eyes are still tired, and his jaw clenches too often for me not to notice. But anyone outside of us, anyone who doesn’t know us, doesn’t notice the tension boiling in the detective’s blood. “Did you spend a lot of time with the victim, Dana?”
“Not really.” She drags the line of gum from between her teeth, forcing pink strings to stretch, stretch, stretch, and then break before she tosses the lot back into her mouth. “Semester only started a little while ago, right? And we’re all freshmen, so we’re kinda still getting our bearings. Naomi and Kallie aren’t staying where I’m staying, so I’m busy with my sorority sisters, and they were busy with themselves.”
“So they ignored you?” I press. “They excluded you?”
“They were fine. No bad blood between them and me or anyone else. Like I said, we’re all new. We’re still learning people’s faces and names and such.”
“But you knew Naomi’s face and name when we rolled up here and asked.”
“Because she’s on the news!” The girl is younger than her peers. Only seventeen. And though immaturity is expected of a teen, Dana seems to be the too-loud, too-flakey kind for anyone to truly tell their secrets to. She looks from me to Fletch, shaking her head. “She’s on the news, Detectives. So of course, when I saw it, I was like woah, that’s that chick . And now you’re asking about her. It’s easy for me to know her name when she was on the screen while I was eating breakfast. A girl is likely to take a personal interest when that same face was in my lecture hall just last week.”
“You take the same econ class as Naomi and Mason, right?” Fletch leans back against the hood of the car, folding his arms and squinting under the bright glare of the sun. We didn’t even have to go inside the building to find someone willing to talk to us. A murder inside your own school, and then the cops turning up on the grass—Dana Jefferson is exactly the type to notice and come say hi.
“Same class as Mason and Naomi and Brent and Kallie.” She drags her gum through her lips again. “Could tell they knew each other from before. They were all over each other from the first day.”
“Are you from Copeland, Dana?”
“Nah.” Smiling, she swings her gaze my way. “I’m from Elkhart Lake, Sheboygan County, Wisconsin. It’s a mouthful, right?”
“Sure is. There are probably more kids in Econ 101 than there were in your entire school where you come from, right?”
“More, times a hundred. It’s overwhelming, while also entertaining. There was no one in my high school giggling and touching each other in class the way Kallie was on Brent.”
“Intense displays of public affection,” I clarify. “Indecent?”
“Aw, nah. It’s just that everyone in Elkhart Lake knows everyone else. Most of us are related. It’s fine in the summer, when the tourists and racers come through. That’s when we’d see fresh faces. But school was not where we went for canoodling.”
“Which is what made Naomi and Mason, and Kallie and Brent, stand out to you?”
“I gotta assume they weren’t related,” she sniggers. “And if they were, well…” Her bright eyes widen impossibly large. “I guess that’s between them and the universe. I don’t know who hurt her, though, Detective. I keep to myself mostly. But I observe. And I’m not really sure I observed anything that would help your investigation. ”
“Alright. Well…” Fletch sets his hands on his hips and nods. “Thanks for your time.”
“You wanna talk to our professor?” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing toward the multistory, multi-million-dollar business that sells outdated education to kids who won’t graduate in time to use it. “Maybe he saw something, seeing as how he was looking up at us every time we were in his lecture hall. Professor Jene is one of those cranky, astute kinds who,” she narrows her eyes, mocking her teacher, “doesn’t tolerate the whimsical. He does numbers, not hands in each other’s pants, if you get what I mean.”
I mean… I think what she means is mostly self-explanatory. So I push off the hood of the car and nod. “We’ll head in and talk to him. Thanks for your time, Dana.”
“No problem.” She flashes a peace symbol and turns to meander away. “I’m gonna tell my mom and daddy I got to help a homicide investigation today. They’ll freak out and demand I come home again. But after that, they’ll tell everybody in the county their daughter is practically famous.”
“She’s got way too much energy.” I tap Fletch’s arm as Dana continues away, then I start in the direction she pointed. “Seventeen and clearly smart, since she graduated and got here. But that small town shit kept her so sheltered, she’s like an eight-year-old who saw a firetruck.”
“Pretty sure Mia has seen more than that girl has. And that,” he sighs, falling into step beside me and shaking his head, “well, that’s something my baby is gonna have to deal with her whole life.”
“Don’t do that to yourself.” I keep my head up. My eyes scouring as we pass under an arch and into an outdoor corridor with signage pointing in multiple directions. Library. Administration. Bathrooms. “Mia is a smart little girl whose father is a cop and her uncles are the fuckin’ mafia. She was always gonna be different from her peers.”
“Now she’s a kid whose dad is a cop, her uncles are the mafia, and her mother is either gonna end up dead or in prison.” He meets my eyes with a fiery stare. “I’m not reporting her for what she did to my apartment. But she’s already that desperate? Means she’s gonna keep ripping people off. Her luck will run out faster than she hopes, and we’re gonna have our next problem on our hands.”
“None of which you get to control. Nor is your fault. Whatever happens, it’s not our case to run. So now we focus on this case. On the handsy Naomi and Mason.”
“Oh! Detectives!” A girl I recognize immediately almost slams into my chest until I pivot and step to the side. Then she claps a hand to her heart, panting heavily, so I catch the movement of her body. “Geez. I almost crashed into you.”
“Sandy Wallace?” Fletch looks the teen up and down. “What are you… what are you doing here? You should be in school, right?”
“Or at home with your mom. You shouldn’t be at Copeland U.” I narrow my eyes as suspicion jumps into my consciousness. “What are you doing here, Sandy? You’re not inserting yourself into your sister’s investigation and muddying things for us, are you?”
“I was just looking around.” She raises her hands, surrendering, almost, and chokes out a nervous breath. “I’m not interfering.”
“You need to go home.” Fletch grabs her arm— not really supposed to do that —and walks her to the arch we already passed under. Then he releases her, essentially kicking her out of the school. “Go home, Sandra. And don’t come back here again.”
“I’m just looking!” Stubbornly, she fixes her shirt and lifts her chin in an attempt to look down at him. “I’m allowed to be here.”
“You’re actually not. And if you try to solve this crime for us again, I’m gonna tell your parents.” He points over her shoulder, snarling, “Go home, Sandra. And stop whatever it is you’re doing before you’re saddled with more trauma.”
“My sister is dead! I’m already well equipped with trauma.”
“Exactly. So leave, find a therapist, and work on it. Don’t compound it.”
I grab my partner’s sleeve and gently tug him back. Then I take out my phone and pretend to dial. “I’m gonna call a cruiser to come get you, kid. They’ll take you home and ensure you stay there.”
“I’m going!” She rolls her eyes and spins on her heels. She doesn’t gift us with a peace sign, though. Her departure, and Dana’s, are not nearly the same. “Jesus. You guys aren’t solving anything . But when I step in and try to help, you thank me with a threat to snitch.”
“Go!” Fletch barks.
“Dude.” I pull him around and start walking, if only to separate him and the girl he’s decided to parent. “You need to chill.”
“She needs to find a healthy way to cope with her loss. Not come out here, sleuthing like she thinks she can solve her own sister’s homicide.”
“Right. But just since we’re on the topic: she’s not your kid, and it’s not your job to protect her from bad choices.”
Silent and fiery, he looks my way and burns me with a glare.
“What?” I release his arm and keep walking. “I said what I said, Charlie. You’re obviously going through your own stuff. Add in that you’re a dad, and we’re running someone’s daughter’s murder, and I can understand that you’re feeling a little raw right now. That doesn’t mean you get to manhandle her. If she wants to file a complaint, guess whose ass ends up in the captain’s office again?”
“Both of us.” He busts through a heavy door until we emerge in a massive hall made up of glinting linoleum and countless lecture halls lining each side. “We’re both in trouble, because I’m taking you with me. I’m sick to fucking death of drowning alone.”
“Wow.” I start forward and pass doors, peeking inside to get a feel for who is in each one. “You’d drag me down too because you’re in a bad mood? Way to be the better man.”
“I’m sick of being the better man, too!” He checks the doors on the opposite side of the hallway. “I’ve tried being the gentleman, Arch. The ‘ still married ’ even when it wasn’t working. The hero when I was so sure she wanted it. And I tried to help a woman who, we know now, refuses to be better. So fuck it. Maybe I should give up on that shit, too. Being the villain might be a better lifestyle for me.”
“You’re the best man I know.” I know he’s spiraling, so I glance across and wait for his eyes. “The best . You’re having a bad day today, but tomorrow will be better. And the day after that will be better again.” I move to the next door and spy some rooms filled to the brim with students, while others have lights out and no one inside. “Eventually, the better days will outweigh the not so great days. And then these shitty days will just be a crappy memory.”
“Says the happily married, exceptionally wealthy?—”
“Son of a don who fucked, killed, and abused anyone I ever cared about.” I stop my search and turn to meet his eyes. “We can discuss kids with trauma, if you want. I have first-hand experience with some of the darkest shit you could ever imagine. But don’t start with your bitter asshole schtick and pick at me just because you’re unhappy today. You’re okay. Mia’s okay. And Jada is a grown woman making decisions for herself and her life. Those are the facts and those facts are the only ones that matter.”
“And Sera?” He swallows, so the movement of his Adam’s apple draws my focus. “She won’t return my calls. She won’t accept my apology. I’m the reason another woman is suffering today.”
“Fifi’s a grown woman too. And if you’re leaning toward Jada’s trauma being your fault, I’m about to smack you in your fucking face.”
“She was fine before?— ”
“Gentlemen?” A man’s snapped tone brings me around and my hand to the gun poised on my hip. Reality slams me in the face when I remember we’re inside Copeland U. Arguing. Bickering about women, and probably not all that discreet about it. “What on earth do you think you’re?—”
“Professor Jene, I assume?” I swap my gun for my badge and leave Fletch behind as I show the old man my identification. “Apologies, Professor. We were discussing a case and lost track of where we were.”
“And as a result, I know there is a woman named Sarah somewhere in the world right now, displeased with his,” he nods toward Fletch, twitching his lip so a sandy colored mustache flows with the movement, “treatment. Hardly a private discussion, when random strangers are made privy to the details.”
“Apologies.” I put my badge away and step in front of the short, round fellow , shielding Fletch from his beady stare and demanding he pay complete attention to me. “You’re Professor Jene, I hope?”
“I am.” He stands as tall as he can manage. And still, his eyes are in line with my chest. “And you must be Detectives Malone and Fletcher. I’ve been expecting this visit.”
“You have?” I grab the closest door with no occupants on the other side and yank it open to gesture the man in. “We had meetings lined up with some of your colleagues today, Professor Jene. But not with you. So why have you been expecting us?”
“Because of Naomi Wallace’s murder, of course.” He follows my unspoken directions and steps into the lecture room. So I do the same and cast a look back at Fletch.
Is he coming, or does he intend to continue his meltdown all alone?
Fortunately for us both, he chooses the first option, though his shoulder slamming against mine as he passes brings a small grin flittering across my lips. Schooling my features, I pull the door closed and turn back to meet my one-man audience.
“So this murder…” I move slowly to the front row of desks, leaning back against the nearest one to get comfortable. “Why would a girl’s death matter to you?”
“Because Naomi Wallace was in my economics class.” He glances at Fletch, exasperated, “Is he always this obtuse?”
He drops his gaze, nodding as a small smile finally breaks up the rage hardening his face. “Our job is to find out what you know, Professor Jene. Not to tell you what we know. So if you would oblige us?” He motions toward the man. “How do you know Naomi Wallace? ”
“She’s in my class. I make it a point to know who my students are.”
“You want to know them personally before you apply a grade to their papers?”
“I prefer to humanize them, so I don’t become eternally disinterested in my career and die from boredom. Marking papers day after day, and delivering the same content, semester on semester, is enough to turn a man’s brain to sawdust.” He meanders to the lecturer’s desk and mirrors my position, leaning and crossing his ankles. “If I can apply an ounce of personality to the names I see, I find myself less eager to step off the Bayview Bridge.”
“Oh, well…”
He flashes a smile in challenge. Do with that information as you will, Detectives.
“So you’ve humanized Naomi Wallace,” Fletch inserts, back to work now that his personal dilemma has been placed on hold. “How so?”
The man shrugs. “It’s a new semester. I look up at hundreds of faces each day and catalog who they are. Who they’re consistently sitting with, or, alternatively, if they’re regularly alone. I notice break ups, and new relationships. Especially when I have athletes taking my class, when I know there are other, easier grades to secure. I especially make a point to look closer when a student shines. Typically, it’s easy to pick out which of those shining students are self-funded, and which are here on a scholarship. Those who work harder are archetypally relying on grants to keep them here.”
“So you insert yourself in their financial affairs?” Fletch presses. “When that is certainly not your place.”
“I don’t consider it an insertion, Detective. Merely an observation from a man who has been doing the same thing, day in, day out, for almost twenty-five years. I suppose I long ago lost my love for numbers, and instead, picked up a fondness for humanity. Often, it is lacking. But sometimes, when you look close enough, you catch it in the glimmer and hope inside a student’s eyes when you’ve handed their very first paper back and they’ve done well.”
“Naomi Wallace?”
His expression turns sad. Regretful. “Naomi Wallace shone. She worked hard, Detectives. She sat with friends in every single class, two of whom were athletes, which might imply a certain level of distraction. But not Naomi.”
“She wasn’t distracted?”
“From the moment she stepped inside my lecture hall, she was ready to learn. Head down, eyes on her own work. She asked intelligent questions and genuinely listened when I answered. When she struggled with a concept, she was the first to ask me for explanation, lest she waste time unnecessarily. I know her boyfriend and her best friend were both inside my class, Detective. But she wasn’t here to mess around the way many others are. She was on this campus for one very specific reason.”
“To learn,” Fletch concludes. “She worked hard and had a purpose.”
“Precisely.” Jene folds his arms, but brings a hand up to fuss with the thin mustache framing his top lip. “So you could consider me wildly astonished when word spread of her pregnancy.”
“You knew?” I drag my lip between my teeth, nibbling and frowning as each new morsel of information filters through my brain. “As her professor, you were aware she was expecting?”
He only shrugs. “I observe, Detective Malone. Despite her hard work in my classroom, I noticed her exhaustion. Drooping eyes. Hands on her stomach. Her boyfriend, Mason, was carrying her bags a lot. Holding her close. He was noticeably attentive always, but that attention seemed to become more conspicuous a few weeks ago. As a father of four and a grandfather to seven, it’s reasonable for me to notice these things.”
“So what else did you notice?” Fletch comes across and perches against the desk beside mine. Staring, he catalogs the professor just as intently as the professor catalogs us. “Tensions between Naomi and others? Tensions between Mason and Naomi?”
“There was tension between Naomi and her friend. This was obvious to me.”
“Which friend?” I take out my notebook and prepare to write names down. “And what tensions did you notice?”
“The best friend.” He gestures with his hand, rolling it. Waving it. Perhaps that’s how he thinks. “Kallie. The girls were often at odds.”
Stunned, I look at Fletch. “That’s interesting. Especially considering it was Kallie’s idea they go to the haunted house each year. Everyone else says they were tight.”
“And there was another girl hanging around a lot.” Jene drops his hand now. Brain time is over. “I did not know her name. She was not a student of mine.”
“Hanging around where? When? If she wasn’t your student, how did you notice her?”
“Because in every class I teach, let’s assume there are a hundred students looking down at me. Ninety-five of them are financed, accepting, and turning in work as expected. Of the five others, some are here because they’re bored and have nothing else to do. Some are looking to flirt. Others don’t trust their brand-new boyfriend or girlfriend, so they stick around to supervise. And this one…” He sets his hands on the desk beside his thighs, tapping the underside with the tips of his fingers. “She would never come in for more than a couple of minutes. She’d poke her head in the door, look around, a bit like she was ensuring Naomi’s attendance that day. Like a parental figure, ensuring their investment was acting as expected. Which,” his eyes come to me, “isn’t unheard of. Parents can be overbearing, especially in first-year classes.”
“Was this person old enough to be Naomi’s mother?” I question. “Was it Mrs. Wallace who?—”
He shakes his head, denying me even before I finish speaking. “This person was quite young. A teenager. These visits began only a few weeks ago, and rarely lasted more than a couple of minutes. She never came all the way in, never sat down, and always walked out, unhappy again.”
“Could you describe her?” I swap my notebook for my phone, sliding the screen unlocked and ignoring Minka’s texts for a moment in favor of something else. Someone else. “If we hooked you up with our sketch artist, do you think you could get us a face?”
“I’m teaching a class in,” Jene checks his watch, and goes fucking slow about it, “twenty-five minutes. I’ll speak to your artist after that.”
“ I honestly don’t know if I like him or want to smear him on the hood of my car.” Fletch strides toward our cruiser just a few steps ahead of me, digging his hands into his pockets and taking out the keys. “He seems decent, ya know? Like he cares about his students. But in the same breath, he reminds me of a shorter, rounder Snidely Whiplash.” He stops by the car and turns back. “It’s confusing and weird.”
“I think he cares…” I read Minka’s ‘ call me ’ texts and prepare to hit dial against her name. “Potentially a little too much. The fact that he’s aware of which students are self-funded versus those who are here on a scholarship is a little gross. But if we take him at his word, he knows these things purely because he observes. That doesn’t make him an asshole.”
“He was paying attention to her rubbing her belly, Arch.”
“And as a father and grandfather, these are things a man might simply notice. I sure as shit know I’ll notice the first time Minka rubs her belly. Or Christabelle.” Then I widen my eyes. “Or in twenty years, when Mia does it.”
Angry, his face turns red and his hands ball into fists. “Never gonna fuckin’ happen. Don’t go there.”
“We’d notice! And if at any point Minka and I find we’re looking to make a family, I guarantee the mayor would notice. That’s what dads do. Give me a sec,” I tap Minka’s name and bring the device to my ear. “Doctors asked me to call.”
“?” My name spills from Minka’s lips on an exhale that indicates she’s walking. Moving. Rushing. “Hey. Catch a killer yet?”
“Not quite. You okay? Where are you?”
“I’m on a crime scene, actually. Midtown has a floater and needed an M.E. down at the bay. Since I’m officially closed on the Wallace case, it would come across as a tad lazy if I denied assisting the other detectives.”
My nose wrinkles immediately. My lips. My entire fucking soul shrivels at the thought of sharing her with other cops.
Though of course, I have to.
She’s not mine… professionally .
I clear my throat and pretend like jealousy doesn’t rear its head and demand I drag her back to the office. “Okay, I guess. You got it handled, or you need help?”
“Not your case, Detective. Floater was only in the water for an hour, as far as I can tell. Bullet wound to the back of his head. Execution. Kinda makes my job easy. The slug blew through the other side, so we can’t send it for ballistics, but I can figure out the size of the rounds that ended his life. Gun powder residue from his skin. Stomach and bowel contents. All before the end of business hours today. How’s your case coming along?”
I wander the remaining steps to our car and rest against the hood. “Decent. We might’ve caught a break. Her economics professor gave us two separate lines to tug.”
“Oh yeah? Over there,” she murmurs to someone else. “Bag his hands and grab samples from beneath his nails. I’m seeing what might be skin. Perhaps a little mud. We’ll pull DNA and hand it over to the detectives.” Then back to me. “Sorry. What two lines did he give you?”
I hate sharing her. And I’m not too proud to pout about it . “He said there was always tension between Kallie and Naomi.”
“Weird, since everyone else says how close they were.”
“Right. Professor says they were often at odds. Which gives me reason to stop and wonder if the pregnancy was creating a divide between friends. ”
“Good one. And the other thread?”
“He says a different girl, a little younger, was hanging around a lot. Almost spying on Naomi. He’s gonna swing by the station in about an hour to give a description to Brody. Hopefully that gives us a face. And if all our instincts are right, that face is one we’ll recognize.”
“Spying on her in class isn’t exactly a smoking gun, Detective. Maybe she was getting fashion advice. Or maybe she wasn’t looking at Naomi at all. Perhaps she was looking at Mason. Or Kallie.”
“All possibilities?—”
“Blunt force trauma to the head,” Aubree murmurs on the other end of the line. “You see the hemorrhaging, Chief?”
“Yeah, I see it. Makes me wonder if our perp slammed him with the butt of his gun before shooting. Almost seems like overkill. Certainly indicates the guy was angry when he made the kill.”
“Minka?”
“Yeah. I’m back.” She clears her throat and turns, so a soft breeze hits the phone’s mouthpiece. “Sorry. So you’re sending the teacher to the sketch artist in an hour. And it’s possible Kallie was angry with Naomi, for reasons at this moment, unknown. Will you pull her in for a follow up talk?”
“Yep. You sent me a text asking me to call you?”
“I did.” She starts moving again, so the wind changes how it attacks the phone. Her breath comes faster, so in my mind, I see her navigating rocks. Slippery surfaces. She risks falling on her face and creating her own hemorrhage. “I had a little spare time, and I had my own contact to tug. So I did a little digging for you in hopes to aid your investigation.”
“Okay… I’m gonna put you on speaker. Hang on.” I bring my eyes up and catch Fletch’s, then I set the call on speaker, only to have Minka’s laughter hit the air. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Though I probably could do without the audience. The thing I did wasn’t strictly law-abiding.”
Startled, my eyes jump to Fletch’s a second time as he parks his ass on the hood right beside me.
“Are we talking illegal, like that extra-curricular stuff you sometimes do that we don’t talk about?” Fletch questions. “Starts with V , ends with shut the fuck up . Or is it, like…” he shrugs. “Slightly less illegal?”
“Less illegal. Though I imagine it still comes with jail time if I confessed to the cops.”
“We are the cops, Mayet! Dammit, woman.” I jam my thumb against the speaker button and take her off, then I bring the phone to my ear while Fletch practically plasters the side of his face to my hand. “What thing did you do that I have to protect you from?”
“Well…” She opens a car door, so the creak of metal hinges forms an image in my mind. Then she climbs in with a huff and slams the door shut to create the privacy I’m relieved she thought to find. “So, you know how I kinda know Sophia, right?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” That name alone sets alarm bells ringing in my mind and iron bars marching into place to separate me from my wife. “She is not good for your future prospects of freedom. Jesus.”
“Yeah, well, I consider her the opposite. She has ways of doing things, right? She knows everything about both of us, and yet, she provides freedom instead of taking it away.”
“What did you do, Delicious?” Growing impatient, Fletch leans closer. “We have shit to do, so get to the point.”
“So I had the thought that the knife Connor used to stab Naomi was reasonably unique. Not, like, only five ever made unique. But it’s an order that folks notice, for sure. I thought, to help you along, I would get a list of every store within ten blocks of the haunted house that sells that knife. Then I could get a list of people who bought it. Ten blocks, of course, is a narrow subsection of the city, and that doesn’t include online orders, but I’m new at this, so I figured I’d start small.”
“You’re new at doing someone else’s job,” I snarl. “You don’t get to call up and demand that kind of information, Mayet.”
“But I did anyway. Like I said, I had spare time. What I didn’t have was computer whizz know-how.”
“So you called Sophia,” Fletch inserts. “Great. The fake cop, phone spy weirdo is now our silent partner. Does no one else think she’s setting us all up to burn later?”
“Speaking of fake cops,” Minka sniggers. Way too fucking casual about all this . “Sophia said she could use her computer and find that information easily, but she didn’t have the time or manpower to dedicate to the task today. She was busy breaking into someone else’s information and didn’t feel our investigation should be prioritized.”
“She was breaking into?—”
“She said she could teach me to do it myself, but it would take entirely too long, and that was for someone who has a certain ability with computers in the first place. Which, I admit, is not me.”
“Get to the fucking point, Mayet.”
“So she gave me her fake badge number and told me to use that. ”
Done . I palm my phone off to Fletch and shove away from the car. Because my wife is going to jail today, and call me a fucking cynic, but I feel they won’t let us share a bunk, or hell, a cell block even if I were to confess to some shit and get my ass thrown into Gen Pop, too.
I stalk twenty feet across the lawn, grabbing at my hair and pulling until it stings. Because I’d rather feel that than the alternative.
“You’ve gone and stressed him out now, Delicious.” Fletch holds the phone to his ear and shakes his head. “He’s pacing and sweating and pissed at you.”
“Send her to jail! It’s fine. Not like I was attached, anyway.”
Chuckling, his chest and shoulders bounce for the first time today. “Yeah. He’s ready to testify against you. What did you do with the fake badge? Who did you call? Are you going to prison?”
“Give me the damn phone!” I stalk back to the car and yank the device from his hand, bringing it to my ear while Minka is mid-sentence. “Start again. Tell me everything. Then go get the cat. We’re moving to Sheboygan County. I hear the people are all related there and never hit on each other.”
“You are being entirely too dramatic right now, . Geez. Sophia instigated an entire exhumation with this badge, and not once was she flagged for it.”
“Probably because she’s spent a lifetime lying and grifting! It’s a skill she’s developed. You, on the other hand, are not her.”
“Well, it worked out. Because I have a spreadsheet of sales for that knife in the last six months. I extended my search, since it turns out the list I’d discovered was pretty short. Sure, our killer may have been one of the three I’d already found, but since I was on a roll, I pushed my search right across the city and turned up eleven more sales. That’s fourteen for you to look into. Some have names. Some paid with cash. Fourteen is a reasonable number for you to run through, and who knows, maybe I helped you find your killer.”
“You bring stress to my life,” I groan. “ So much stress! And it’s not like today isn’t already one of the stressful kind. Fletch’s life is on fire. Mia saw some shit. Cato is the better uncle right now, which is clearly messing with me. And now my wife is flirting with jail time.”
“What shit did Mia see?” She cuts through all the nonsense and stops on that one detail. Because that’s who Minka Mayet is: a protector of the innocent before anything else. “What happened?”
“Jada split.” I walk away from the car again, giving my partner space so he doesn’t have to hear me repeat his issues. He knows I’m talking about him, of course, but he doesn’t have to re-hear the details. “She tossed the apartment, took every pill she could find, stole some valuables, and ran.”
“That bitch! She ransacked his place right in front of her own daughter?”
“Fletch and Mia were asleep. But she was in their room, Minka. While he slept and Mia was vulnerable, she tossed his stuff and took anything she could sell for a few dollars. He’s not making a police report, so he can’t claim sweet fuck all on insurance. And now she’s gone, which means he lost the money he paid to Ridgewood, since they’re non-refundable. She completely fucked him over, and now he’s out here with a broken spirit and a metric ton of guilt sitting on his shoulders. Especially after this thing with Fifi last night.”
“She hasn’t come into work today.” Like a kick to the gut, she delivers her words simply. And yet, with the power of a thousand strikes. “She called in while Patten was still on shift and left a message to be passed on to me. Sick today. Can’t come in. Blah, blah, blah.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I draw a deep breath and fill my chest until it expands. Then I exhale again and look across at my best friend. “If I tell him that, he’s gonna hurt more.”
“So don’t tell him. She’s allowed to take a day and work through her feelings. She called early and spoke to night shift, all to avoid talking to me. That means she wants to be left alone. I’ll give her the day. Tomorrow, she has this big to-do with the mayor, and we both know she’d rather eat manure than disappoint that man. So she’ll be back, poised, and ready to get on with things once more. In a few days, when Fletch and Fifi have both had time to calm down, he can apologize, she can tell him she can’t stand the sight of him, and life goes back to normal.”
“But for today,” I grit out, “you’re breaking the law, impersonating a cop, tampering with evidence, taking other cases with random cops, and now you’ve got a body that washed up in the bay after an execution. Which smells an awful lot like mafia to me. That’s what you’re telling me we’re doing with this day?”
“Plus fourteen sales of the hunting knife. Which, in reality, isn’t that many. I’ll photocopy the list today, seal it up, and send it over to the station. You receive it as an anonymous tip, and then your evidence remains admissible in court. If the list proves useful, we’re winning. And if it was a waste of time, then that’s cool too. We’ll chalk it up to a learning exercise for me.”
“Stop breaking the fucking law! And hand that case off to someone else. It stinks of the mob, and I don’t know if you know, but that’s a little close to home for us to deal with right now. It’s not Felix, which means it’s Booth or the dude Booth reports to. Those same people are half the reason for Fletch’s stress today, and they’re entirely the reason Jada ended up in hospital yesterday.”
“I’m just the M.E. In fact, Aubree’s taking the lead. So…”
“Aubree’s practically betrothed to Timothy II’s heir! She doesn’t admit to it, but she’s even closer to the mob right now than you are. So get her off that crime scene and back inside the George Stanley. If Tim finds out what’s going on, he’s gonna fuck your case up whether you like it or not. Do us all a favor and hand it off.”
“You’re being entirely too controlling right now, . Jesus.”
“Hand the case off and give the badge back!” I draw eyes as students cross Copeland U’s campus, with their shoulders hunched under the weight of book bags and their eyes alighting as something more interesting than another day spent learning catches their attention. “I’ve run the same search as you.” I lower my voice and talk directly into the phone’s mouthpiece. “I’ve been a cop a long time, Mayet, which means I got a warrant and contacted hunting supplies stores, too. Unfortunately for those of us following the order of evidence, I have to wait a little longer to receive my reports. You didn’t think of anything I didn’t already think of.”
“Okay, sure. But I got the answers faster, no? Not waiting for legitimate warrants might be the difference between solving a case sooner, or not solving it at all.”
“Swear to god. You’re pissing me right off, woman. Stop doing my job. Stop putting yourself in danger. And for the love of everything decent, get Aubree off that crime scene before Tim starts a fresh war. No one who has a connection to me or my family should run a case that involves the mob. It’s like painting a neon target on your forehead and dancing on a fucking stage, waiting to be gunned down. Felix is looking into things for me, but until he comes back with names, you’re too exposed.”
“I’ll pull her off and reassign Doctor Flynn.” Grumbling, she opens the car door again so wind whips through our call. “But I know I helped you with that list, Detective Malone. Take a breath and look at the situation objectively.”
“Looking at it objectively? I see a different, third, mafia family providing you with assets, also known as favors. This person is obviously powerful, and when the day comes that she asks for payment, your ass is gonna be in a sling, obligated to do as she wants. And since your ass is my ass, I’m the one who is gonna be indebted to this chick I hardly know and don’t trust.”
“I don’t think it’s like that. Aubree,” she speaks low, controlled, “get up. Pack up. We’re handing this off to Flynn.” Then she moves somewhere else. “Officer. My office is going to have to send you a new M.E. Hold the scene for another twenty minutes until the new tech has arrived.”
“Yes, Chief.” He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t deny seniority when on the job. Minka Mayet is the youngest chief medical examiner in the city’s history. But age doesn’t mean shit when she flashes her actual badge and commands a scene.
“Good. Thank you.” She turns on her heels, the click-clack of rocks under her feet telegraphing her moves. “We’re heading to the car now. Don’t speak until we’re inside,” she tells Aubree. Then back at me, “I see Timothy the Third, . He’s already here.”
“Yeah. Color me surprised. Get in the car and leave. He’ll follow. I’ll deal with our case without your help, and you’ll never call Sophia Solomon ever again. She freaks me out.”
“She seems nice. I mean…” Squeaking car doors echo through our call again. “Nice, in the, don’t have to talk to her unless it suits me, and definitely never have to make small talk, kind of way. She doesn’t waste words or pretend to be nice. So I kinda like that about her.”
“Kinda reminds me of someone I already know,” I growl. “Close your doors and drive away. Send Flynn. Don’t touch that case again.”
“Your controlling nature is noted, Detective. And so soon on the back of our nuptials. Is this going to become an issue for us?”
“Only when you’re running cases that put your life at risk. And since we’re on the subject, jail time is something else I choose not to accept. I married one portion of you where I’m forced to accept risk. I didn’t agree to adding to it. So stop being friends with Solomon, and never again try to do my job. Got it?”
“Got it. I guess I’ll throw the list away, then. And you can wait for a judge to sign off on yours.”
“Send me the damn list. I’ll talk to you later.”
She snorts. But she swallows the sound down and pretends to be serious. “It was fun working with you, Detective Malone. Be safe.”
“Yeah.” I drag the phone from my ear and scowl when I find Fletch’s eyes dancing with mirth. “Stop being entertained by this shit.”
“I’d rather watch your marriage than obsess over mine. You think she’ll stop talking to Solomon?”
“No.” I drop my hands, and phone, into my pocket. “I think she’s found a twin flame in Soph. They don’t realize it yet, because they’re both socially inept and object to making true friendships. But I know what Solomon stands for, and that just so happens to align with what Mayet stands for. I know they’ve both crossed that line to protect the innocent, and I know, without a single shred of doubt, they’ll cross it again, even at risk to their own safety. Solomon has certain other skills Minka doesn’t?—”
“Like the listening to conversations and hacking people’s computers stuff.”
“Right. Which is not Minka’s forte. But then again, she can exhume, autopsy, and do all sorts of medical shit Solomon can’t. Different strengths. Equally powerful.”
“Put them together: earth, fire, water…” Chuckling, he looks down at his shoes. “You get it? Captain Planet. Different kinds of pollution, but my point stands.”
“I don’t see Minka cutting that connection off. Not even if I shout about it.”
“So why shout in the first place?” He drags his focus up. “Just to hear yourself talk?”
“Basically.” I circle to the passenger door and yank it open. “She scares the shit out of me, Fletch. Always putting herself in danger. And powerful friends become powerful because of the risks and threats they face. Mixing those friendships doubles the risk.”
“Also doubles the protection.” He heads to the driver’s side and slides in behind the wheel. “By that theory, Delicious gains security alongside the power.”
“Still scares me.” I pull my door shut and check my email when my phone dings with an alert. Minka’s reports arrive, lists of names, dates, time stamps, and tidbits of information that has my brows rising on my forehead. “Let’s bring Kallie in for a talk. I wanna get her side of the story now that we’ve been fed a version that isn’t all sunshine and best friends. Then we’ve gotta pull Mrs. Wallace back in.” Sighing, I set my phone on my lap and look across to my partner. “She bought a buck hunting knife last month.”