Out for Blond Page 23

  I got to my feet. “Oh, you know, just my job. Detecting.”

  His nostrils flared.

  A wave of fear went through me. I swallowed. “Um, I’ll just be on my way then.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  I felt as if my insides were turning liquid. How could his stare have that kind of affect on me?

  “You’re an intruder,” he continued. “I’m calling the police.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I could have made a run for it. Braxton certainly didn’t offer any resistance, and I was fairly sure I would have made it out of the mansion without any problem. I could have gotten out to my car and driven away.

  But that wouldn’t have meant I was safe. It would have meant that the police were chasing me, because there would be a warrant for my arrest. Considering my reputation at the department, I would just as soon not get hunted down and arrested.

  So, I waited at the mansion for the police to arrive, and I didn’t resist when they cuffed me and booked me.

  Outside, I was stone. I said nothing, and I refused to even have an expression. I wanted to look unassailable, tough as nails.

  Inside, I was panicking. I’d been arrested. I wasn’t a girl who played by the rules, exactly, but I’d never been on the wrong side of the law. I used to be a police officer, for fuck’s sake. I wasn’t the kind of person who got arrested. And it was horrible, too, because I’d always been on the other side of it. I’d been the person doing the cuffing, stuffing the perp into the back of my cop car, filling out the paperwork back at the office.

  This time, I was the one handcuffed, being pushed and prodded through the rain to be confined on the way back to the station.

  They booked me, took the mug shots, fingerprinted me, and the whole nine yards. During all of it, I was silent.

  Inside, I was screaming.

  They popped me into a cell in the city jail instead of taking me to the nearby regional facility, which was a mercy. In the regional jail, I would have been released into general population, and I might have even run into some people that I put away.

  Maybe. Probably not, because I’d been working in Homicide for years before I’d been kicked off the force, and there weren’t any murderers at the regional facility. But there were drug dealers and prostitutes. It had been a long time since I’d worked in Vice, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t find someone there in the jail.

  Right before they locked me up, they gave me my phone call. I should have called my lawyer, but the thing was, I didn’t have a lawyer, because I’d never needed one. I debated calling Crane, because he was the person I typically called in a crisis. If my car broke down on the side of the road, I called Crane. He always showed up with jumper cables or whatever it was that I needed. But this wasn’t really the kind of thing that Crane could help me with.

  So.

  I called Pike.

  The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.

  I began to be worried that he wasn’t actually going to pick up the phone.

  But then, he did. “Hello?”

  “Pike, it’s me. Stern. I’ve been arrested.”

  “Jesus, Stern.”

  “I know.” I felt ashamed. “I was looking for evidence, and I guess that technically means I was trespassing, but—”

  “Are you downtown?”

  “Yeah, at the city jail.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up.

  After they locked me up in my cell, I replayed our conversation over and over again, trying to figure out what I could from his words and his tone.

  The city jail wasn’t very big. There were maybe ten cells in the women’s section. They were fairly traditional. They actually had bars. There was only one other prisoner in there as well, and she was in the cell furthest away from me. I guessed they didn’t want us comparing notes or something. As it was, she was too far away to communicate with unless I shouted.

  I didn’t want to talk to her anyway. I just wanted to figure out if Pike was disgusted with me or not. I couldn’t tell from what he’d said. He’d been so clipped with me, and his voice had been devoid of emotion. The last time I’d talked to him, he’d basically told me that he wanted nothing to do with me.

  I didn’t get it. How did we go from his showing up at my house and putting my hands on his body to this?

  I curled up on the cot in my cell. I didn’t sleep. Despite the fact that I hadn’t done anything other than snoop on Braxton Whitney’s hard drive, I felt bad about myself. It was the atmosphere, I supposed. Being treated like a criminal made me feel like a criminal.

  * * *

  Pike appeared outside my cell a few hours later. He was escorted in by two uniforms. All three of them stopped in front of the door to my cell.

  Sheepishly, I crawled out of the cot and walked over to face him. “Hi,” I said.

  He didn’t bother with a greeting. “Braxton Whitney will drop the charges if you agree to stop harassing him. I talked to him, and he’s only pursued this so far because of how ridiculous you’re being.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “No way. He’s pursued this so far because he’s guilty, and he wants to stop me from finding proof.”

  “That’s just it. He’s not guilty. He’s got an airtight alibi.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “That benefit? He left early according to his girlfriend.”

  “He left around midnight,” said Pike. “If that’s considered early, then I guess she’s right.”

  “You’re just taking his word for that?” I said.

  Pike took out his phone. “I thought you’d be like that.” He thrust his hand through the bars.

  I peered at the phone screen. I was looking at a video of Braxton Whitney giving a speech from a podium. He was wearing a tuxedo, and I could see that the surrounding area was filled with people in formal wear. “So? This doesn’t prove anything.”

  “He gave this speech at 11:30,” said Pike. “He left a half hour later. But even if he didn’t, even if he gave this speech and left, he still wouldn’t have time to get to Renmawr by midnight, let alone to Clayton Farm.”

  Damn it. Tess was killed at midnight. That was what the ritual called for, and that matched up with the coroner’s time of death.

  “I shouldn’t even be discussing this with you,” said Pike, “but since you’re already this deep into it, we both know that the murder was fairly involved. It wasn’t as if the murderer just slit her throat and was done with it, you know? He took the time to cut the symbols into her body and tie her down—”

  “They took the time,” I said. “It was two people.”

  Pike grimaced, yanking the phone back through the bars. “It was Gunner Bray, and you and I both know it. Now, are you going to drop this? Are you going to leave Braxton Whitney alone?”

  “Does Whitney give money to the city or something? Does he have the police chief in his pocket?”

  “For God’s sake, Ivy,” Pike said through gritted teeth. “I’ve run all over the place trying to work this out for you. Stop being so idiotic. You’ve got to stop taking money from that Clayton place, because you are being funded by a murderer. You’re the one who’s in his pocket. A murderer’s pocket.”

  I swallowed.

  “Ivy?”

  I nodded once. “Yeah, okay, fine. I’m done with Braxton Whitney.”

  “And Gunner Bray?”

  I twisted my hands together.

  He sighed.

  I looked up at him. “Thank you for this. I mean it. I’m really grateful.”

  He squared his shoulders. “You’d do the same for me if you had to. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Pike, I—”

  “Don’t,” he said, casting meaningful glances at the uniforms behind him.

  I glared at him. I hadn’t been going to say anything that wasn’t meant for public consumption. But he had cowed me, and I didn’t say anything at all.

  I expected that he’d
be waiting for me after I was released, but I was set free without much fanfare, and Pike had disappeared by that time.

  My car had been towed and put in impound, so I didn’t have a way home, not that I would have, anyway, considering I’d left it back at Braxton’s house. When they gave me back all my possessions, though, they gave me my cell phone, so I called Crane after all.

  He was way too drunk to drive out to pick me up, though he volunteered to do so. We argued back and forth about his state of driving for a bit, but eventually, I won by detailing for him all the hoops he’d have to jump through to get his license back if he got a DUI.

  “Fine,” Crane said over the phone. “I won’t come get you after all. But you should be more careful, Ivy.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. It seemed like everyone was telling me to be more careful these days. I wondered if they’d say the same thing if I wasn’t little and blond.

  “Seriously,” he said. “Who’s going to pick you up?”

  I didn’t have much choice. I called Brigit.

  * * *

  “Oh my God, you are so cool,” said Brigit. “Getting arrested shows just how dedicated you are. I admire you so much.”

  I was still feeling ashamed and awful about myself. I buckled myself into the passenger seat of her car. “I don’t know about all of that.”

  “Seriously, Ivy, how many people would go that far for their jobs?”

  “Not many,” I muttered. “Which probably just proves that I’m insane.”

  “No,” she said. “That’s what’s awesome about you. You won’t let things go. When you’re on a case, you’re really on it. You’re driven to find out the truth, and that’s a wonderful thing. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  I had to admit that it felt good hearing Brigit sing my praises.

  “Was it awful?” she said. “Being locked up, I mean?”

  “It was…” I gave her a wry grin. “It was awful.”

  She smiled at me, hands on the steering wheel. “Where to?”

  “The Remington?”

  “Oh hell yeah. I bet you could use a drink,” she said. “I’m buying you one, in fact. And not one of those dinky Miller beers either. A real drink.”

  I didn’t argue with her.

  Later, we sat at a table in the bar, which was crowded this late at night. I had a whiskey sour in one hand and Brigit had a screwdriver.

  “So, you think it’s right?” said Brigit. “That Braxton’s completely out of the picture?”

  “At first I didn’t,” I said. “I thought maybe that his partner in crime had started the whole thing, and that would explain why Braxton could be at the benefit until late. He showed up late for the murder, but it could have been just in time.”

  “Yeah?” said Brigit, looking eager.

  “But then I realized that didn’t work, because two different people carved the symbols into her body and that Braxton would have had to be there from the beginning to be part of it. So… yeah, I think he’s out.”

  “Well, then, we don’t have anyone except Gunner,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said, sighing. “You know, I’m beginning to feel like a huge idiot. Like I should never have taken this case in the first place.”

  Brigit didn’t say anything.

  “What?” I said. “You aren’t going to say that you told me so?”

  “I can’t say that, Ivy. I’m just as committed to this case as you are at this point. And what I was saying before, about how you’re driven to find the truth, well, I really do admire that about you.”

  I knocked back the rest of my whiskey sour. “Well, I feel like all I’ve done is go round in circles with this case. I don’t feel like I’ve gotten anywhere at all.”

  “The answer’s going to come to us,” she said. “We just have to keep digging.”

  “Digging where?”

  She was quiet.

  “Ivy!” said a drunk voice.

  I turned around to see Crane tottering over to me, clutching a cranberry and vodka in one hand. It was spilling a little bit. He put the drink down on the table and held his arms out for a hug.

  I couldn’t help but grin. I got up to hug him.

  “You were in jail,” he said in my ear. “I’m so sorry I was too drunk to help you.”

  “It’s fine,” I said.

  He released me and plopped down at the table with us. “Hi there, Brigit. Have you convinced her to drop this case yet?”

  “Actually…” said Brigit.

  “Oh, not you too,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Ivy’s gotten to you, then. She’s convinced you that there’s something here to discover. But Ivy gets obsessed with things sometimes. It doesn’t mean there’s anything to know. It just means that she can’t stop herself.”

  “Hey,” I said, ready to argue. But then, when I thought about it, he was basically right about me. I slumped at the table.

  “Don’t listen to him,” said Brigit. “I was just going to say that we need to go back to the farm to keep digging. There has to be something there that we’ve missed.”

  “Does there?” I said. “What if Crane’s right? What if I’m looking for something that isn’t there?”

  “I am right,” said Crane, digging out his e-cigarette.

  “You’re not,” said Brigit. She got up. “You need another drink, Ivy. You’ve had a tough night. More whiskey?”

  I smirked. “Yeah, more whiskey, please. Whiskey will fix everything.”

  * * *

  “Hi there, I’m Ivy Stern. I’d like to speak to Hector Brennan please,” I said into the phone.

  “Oh, the private detective,” said the voice. “He told me you’d be calling. I’m his secretary, Rachel. You need to confirm some dates?”

  Oh, wow. So, he was on top of that, was he? “Just one date,” I said, “and I’d really prefer to speak to Mr. Brennan himself.”

  “Well, if you did, he’d just be asking me to look up the dates for him,” she said. “I’m the only one who keeps track of Hector’s whereabouts around here. He’s way too busy thinking about how to plan communities. He gets these visions, and he gets kind of obsessive about making them come alive. Takes up his whole mind. So, what date was it?”

  I gave it to her. “Honestly, I don’t see how you’re going to help me with this, being his secretary. I need to know what he was doing from about ten o’clock to midnight on that day.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, “he had a late late meeting that night with some architects.”

  “A late late meeting?”

  “Sorry.” She laughed. “That’s sort of our own little code here. We call meetings that occur after dinner late meetings and anything that’s beyond that a late late meeting.”

  “Who has meetings at ten in the evening?”

  “Well, to be honest, they aren’t so much meetings as socializations, I think,” she said. “But if we call them meetings and save all the receipts, then the accountant says he can deduct them from his taxes.”

  “Ah,” I said. “Anyway, you’re sure he was busy during that time?”

  “Positive. What’s this about, anyway? Why do you need to know where he was?”

  “He didn’t tell you that?” Well, maybe it wasn’t such a surprise that Hector didn’t want people to know he was a suspect for murder.

  “No, he didn’t say.”

  “You’re giving me his alibi, Rachel. For murder.”

  “What?” She laughed again. “Really? That’s crazy. Hector couldn’t hurt anyone. It’s just not in him.”

  “You said that he gets obsessed with bringing his visions to life,” I said. “If he had to kill someone to make sure he could do that—”

  “No way,” she said. “That’s not Hector.”

  “I see.”

  “Well, I’m glad he has an alibi. I’d hate for him to have to go through any more investigation when it’s so ludicrous.”

  I said goodbye and hung up. So much for Hector Brennan as a suspect.

&
nbsp; * * *

  “Oh good, you’re here,” said Brigit, bright as always. I’d just arrived on the farm. Brigit had beaten me out here this afternoon. She was chatting with Stella again, who seemed quite happy to talk to Brigit.

  I was a little annoyed. “What the hell? Why didn’t you wait for me?”

  “Oh, you were all down about how we weren’t going to solve the case, and I wanted to come out here and do some digging and find something that would cheer you up. And I did.”

  “I don’t need cheering up.”

  “Sure you do.” She grinned. “Stella, tell her what you were telling me.”

  “About Jagger?”

  Brigit nodded.

  Jagger? He was the guy I’d talked to in the beginning, the guy who was Gunner’s alibi. Supposedly, they’d both been together that night, playing guitar.

  “It’s not much of anything,” said Stella. “She was just asking me if I knew anyone who had conflict with that Tess woman, and I said that Jagger did. I saw them arguing once.”

  “Arguing?” I said. “About what?”

  “I don’t know. I was kind of far away, and I didn’t get closer or eavesdrop, because I thought that would be rude,” she said.

  Brigit beamed at me. “See?”

  I gave her a withering look. Sometimes, she was too cheery for her own good.

  “Oh, come on,” she said. “Don’t be like that. This is good. This is someone else to question. Another suspect.”

  She was right. I sighed.

  She laughed. “Well, don’t thank me or anything.”

  I glared at her. “Don’t push it, Brigit.”

  * * *

  I found Jagger Hinton out in the fields again. He was weeding this time, bent over and yanking out big hunks of leaves and tossing them in a pile. I was alone, because there was no way I was letting Brigit have the entire day. I needed to accomplish something too.

  Jagger yanked off his shirt. “Sure, I can talk for a few minutes. What’s on your mind?”

  I eyed his bare chest. He was a kid—well, he wasn’t much younger than some of the co-eds I hooked up with in town. Anyway, he was nicely put together. I ran my gaze over the swells of his muscles, and the flatness of his stomach, and I wondered if it had been a bad idea to leave Brigit behind after all. Maybe I should have kept her with me. After all, I’d started bringing her into the field to help with temptation.