Chapter 7
Seven
Zachary’s report was complete and thorough, if perhaps a little overly dramatic.
I think he thought I might share it with Mendoza, because it was full of what I guessed to be police slang.
Abbreviations like ATL, which seemed to mean attempt to locate, and RO—registered owner—and MUTT, which at first I thought might apply to Edwina, but it seemed to refer to a person Zachary didn’t like.
The bottom line was the same thing he’d already told me.
Steven hadn’t been at the university today, nor had the blonde.
We had no way of knowing whether the blonde was ever at the university, of course, but if she was a student, she wasn’t in class this morning.
Not anywhere where Zachary could have seen her.
I put the report on the desk and my feet next to it, and leaned back, contemplating the ceiling. There was a spot up there, the result of a former roof leak, that looked like Virginia.
For all I knew, Steven was on his way there right now. No reason to think he was, of course. Then again, no reason to think he wasn’t, either.
Over on the sofa, Edwina opened her eyes and looked at me for a second, before burrowing her snub nose back into her legs and closing her eyes again.
It wasn’t until I heard the front door open that I realized that her sharper ears had picked up what mine hadn’t.
“Good afternoon, Rachel,” Jaime Mendoza’s smooth voice said.
I could imagine Rachel’s expression. She thinks Mendoza is handsome. So does every other woman in the world. “Good afternoon, Detective. Are you looking for Gina?”
“I’m looking for the dog,” Mendoza said, and dashed my hopes.
“They’re both back there.” Rachel probably waved a hand. “Go ahead.”
A second later, I heard Mendoza’s footsteps along the hallway. A second after that, he appeared in the doorway.
“Mrs. Kelly.”
“Detective,” I said politely, and took my feet off the desk.
He stepped through the opening into the office. “Thinking?”
“It’s the only thing I can do at the moment. Steven’s gone, so I can’t follow him. I don’t know who the blonde is, so I can’t follow her. I could follow Diana, but I don’t know what good that would do, other than give me the impression I’m doing something.”
Mendoza nodded. “May I?” He gestured to the spot on the sofa next to Edwina.
“Of course. Have a seat.” I straightened and watched as he sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from the dog.
She opened an eye and contemplated him. Then she did a sort of doggie double-take, and opened the other eye.
Both of them stared at him for a few seconds before she uncoiled, picked her way across the sofa, and collapsed again, this time with her head in Mendoza’s lap.
She gazed up at him, pop-eyes adoring, and he put a hand on her stomach and rubbed. She wiggled with pleasure.
I wouldn’t mind being in that position myself. To distract myself from it, I said, “I heard you tell Rachel you wanted to see the dog. You’re not taking her away, are you?”
“Not yet,” Mendoza said, while Edwina licked his hand.
“As you can see, she’s fine. I took her out earlier. She’s not suffering. And I let her get on the furniture. She doesn’t have to sleep on the cold, hard floor.”
Mendoza’s lips twitched. “I’m sure you’re doing a fine job.”
And so was he. The dog was practically purring.
“So what can I do for you?”
He stopped rubbing, and Edwina looked up at him with big, doleful eyes. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to continue to rub, she settled her chin on his thigh with a disappointed sigh.
“I was actually hoping Zachary would be here.”
“Oh.” And here I thought he’d been looking for Edwina. “He went back to the university to have another look around. He left me a report of his adventures this morning and last night. Would you like to see it?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Mendoza said. I handed over the report, and he sat back in the sofa to read it. I spent the time watching him while he was not watching me do it.
The thing is, he’s just so very easy on the eyes. Great bone structure, perfect skin, thick, black hair. Perfect teeth. Dimples. Nice shoulders, good chest, trim waist, and so on, all the way down to his perfect feet.
Not that I’ve ever seen them, unencased in shoes. If he ever takes his shoes off, it might turn out he has ingrown toenails or hammer toes, but until then, I’ll just imagine them as being as perfect as the rest of him.
And if he ever gets to a point where he’s getting undressed in my presence, I’m pretty sure I’ll have other things to think about than his toes.
The expressions on his face were amusing to watch, too, as he made his way through the report.
While I’d found Zachary’s abbreviations and slang faintly annoying, Mendoza seemed to find them humorous.
By the time he’d finished both reports, he was grinning, perfect, white teeth and dimples on display.
“There’s nothing there you didn’t already know,” I pointed out.
He nodded. “It’s still good to read it in his own words. I need him to give me a better description of the blonde, though. Maybe even get him to work with a police artist, to see if we can come up with a face for her.”
I leaned forward. “You think she might have had something to do with Mrs. Grimshaw’s murder?”
“She was there,” Mendoza said. “If nothing else, she might have seen or heard something.”
She might. And this was the first time I had considered that possibility.
Because I suspected the blonde of having led Steven astray, I had only thought of her as the villainess.
I’d been more than happy to wonder whether she’d shot poor, old Mrs. Grimshaw and left Edwina an orphan, but I hadn’t considered that she might be a witness to the crime.
Although that would explain—or would also explain—why she was gone this morning. If I’d seen someone commit cold-blooded murder next door, and I was worried that they might have realized I was there and could identify them, I would have wanted to get away as soon and as far as possible, too.
“I can have Zachary call you when he comes back in,” I offered.
Mendoza arched his brows. “Trying to get rid of me?”
I shook my head. Never. “I’m sure you must be busy.”
“Now that you mention it.” He leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes. “It’s been a long day.”
“Have you found out anything?”
“Not much.” He opened his eyes again. So much for the nap. Edwina gazed up at him adoringly. “I found a business card from a lawyer in Mrs. Grimshaw’s desk. When I called, he admitted to having done some work for her. Including drawing up her will. I am headed over there next, to take a look.”
“Will you let me know what happens?” Mrs. Grimshaw’s next of kin might want Edwina. I would have to give her up. And I was already becoming attached to her.
Mendoza nodded. “Once I’ve spoken to him, I’ll have a better idea who might have had a reason to want Mrs. Grimshaw out of the way.”
He moved Edwina’s head off his lap, and pushed up from the sofa with a grunt. Edwina gave him a baleful look.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I told her. I didn’t want him to leave, either.
Mendoza’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t comment. “I’ll call you later,” he told me. “Take care of the dog.”
I promised I would.
“And let me know when Zachary comes back.”
“I will. When can I expect to see you—I mean, hear from you—again?”
He glanced at his watch. “I have an appointment with the lawyer in thirty minutes. After that, I should have a better idea what might be going on. I’ll call you.”
I told him I appreciated it, and watched him walk out the door.
He said goodbye to Rachel on his way through the lobby, and then I heard the front door close behind him.
A few seconds later, the sound of an engine started in the parking lot.
At the same time, Rachel’s sensible heels came clicking down the hallway.
A moment later, she appeared in the doorway of my office.
“If I wasn’t an old lady, and he wasn’t young enough to be my son, I would jump that man. ”
“You are not an old lady,” I told her, even as I tacitly admitted that the same was true for me.
If I wasn’t an old lady, I would also jump that man.
“And I don’t think you’re old enough to be his mother.
He has to be into his thirties.” While Rachel was in her mid fifties.
So yes, maybe she was old enough to be his mother.
The same way I was old enough to be Zachary’s.
She put a piece of paper on my desk. “There’s the information you wanted. The house belongs to someone named Araminta Tucker. She has a permanent address in Franklin.”
“Kentucky?”
Rachel shook her head. “Tennessee.”
Nashville is about sixty miles from the Kentucky border.
There’s a small town called Franklin just over the border, and another about twenty miles south of us, in Williamson County.
Since one of them is about half the distance of the other—not that either is a particularly long drive—I was relieved that she was talking about the closer one.
I pulled the paper closer. “Maybe I’ll go talk to her.”
Rachel nodded. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
I got to my feet and grabbed my bag. “If Zachary comes back, tell him to call Mendoza. The detective wants a better description of the blonde.”
Edwina watched us walk out of my office, but made no move to jump down from the sofa and follow. “Car ride?” I asked her.
She twitched an ear, but didn’t move otherwise.
“I’ll see you later,” I told her, and followed Rachel down the hallway toward the front door.