Out for Blond Page 9

  “I don’t suspect Gunner,” I said. “Still, I’m not sure about Quinton and the others. You indicated to me that you weren’t sure about them either.”

  “Oh,” said Laura. “I suppose I hadn’t thought about that. You’ve been asking about them, then?”

  “Among other things,” I said. “Do you think they’re guilty of the crime?”

  “I don’t want to think that,” she said. “I really don’t.”

  “So, you’re sticking to the story that they’ve confessed to save Gunner from being falsely accused?”

  “It seems the most likely,” she said.

  “Why these four people?” I said. “Why do you think they’re the ones who confessed? You claim that Gunner isn’t anyone special to those on the farm, so these people must be especially close to him.”

  “Not especially.”

  “Odette says that one of her children is Gunner’s.”

  “Well, yes,” said Laura, “but that hardly means anything.”

  “Because Gunner sleeps with everyone on the farm?”

  “Not everyone.”

  “Does he sleep with you?”

  Laura sputtered. “That’s hardly your business.”

  “Well, let’s put it this way,” I said. “Are other men besides Gunner allowed to sleep with women? Because Farrah told me that she’s celibate and that she doesn’t sleep with anyone. But I also heard that Farrah and Quinton are a couple. I figure the only way that could be true is if the relationships on the farm that don’t involve Gunner aren’t sexual.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Laura. “Other people besides Gunner have sex on the farm, not that it’s your concern. Farrah is hardly celibate.”

  So, Farrah had been lying then. “She claimed she was.”

  “Well, she isn’t.”

  “Any idea why she might say that?”

  “No,” said Laura. “I really don’t. Look, the four of them are two couples. Farrah and Quinton are together and Odette and Kellen are together. I assume that’s why the four of them all volunteered to go down together. They knew their significant others would be imprisoned with them. They decided to do this out of selflessness for Gunner, and they made the decision as a couple. All of them.”

  “They’re couples?” I said. Okay, well, that was weird. “Why’d they hide that from me?”

  “How would I know?” said Laura. “You should ask them yourself.”

  “I guess I should.”

  She was quiet for a minute. “Do you think the fact that they’re lying makes them more likely to be killers?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Since they claim to be killers, I suppose they’d have to be liars if they want to be innocent. Maybe it’s a point in their favor.”

  * * *

  I went directly to Farrah, considering she was the one who’d lied to my face, telling me that she was celibate. She seemed flustered, sitting behind the glass in the jail. Her face was pale and her expression listless. “I don’t see why it matters what I said,” she muttered, not bothering to meet my eyes.

  “You lied to me, Farrah,” I said. “You specifically told me that you didn’t have a sexual relationship with any of the men on the farm. Why did you say that?”

  “Because you were asking about Gunner,” she said. “And I didn’t want you to think that I was lying about the murder to save him.”

  “I don’t see why that means you wouldn’t tell me about your relationship with Quinton.”

  “You know about that?”

  “I’ve been talking to people on the farm, Farrah. I’ve been hired by the Clayton Society to clear Gunner’s name. I need you to be honest with me. Did you kill Tess Carver or not?”

  She swallowed, still avoiding my gaze. She didn’t say anything.

  “Why did you lie to me?”

  “I told you, I didn’t want you to think—”

  “Do you have a sexual relationship with Gunner, then?”

  “Not… not really. It’s not a relationship, exactly. We just aren’t very conventional. We’re very free. Quinton and I may be together, but we’ve decided not to be monogamous. So, I could sleep with Gunner if I wanted. But that doesn’t mean that I would do a favor for Gunner on this scale, though. I wouldn’t lie about murdering someone just because he told me.” She met my gaze then, defiant. “His penis is not that special, okay?”

  I had to concur. His penis wasn’t special. I mean, it was nice enough. It had gotten the job done. I wasn’t complaining about it or anything, but special? Nah.

  But that was besides the point, really, wasn’t it? I needed to focus on why I was really here. “Farrah, why did you cover up your relationship with Quinton?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You did. You said you were celibate.”

  She squirmed. “But that was only because of the Gunner connection. I didn’t want to try to explain it. I didn’t think you’d understand. And looking at your face, I can see that you don’t.”

  “You want me to understand you?” I said. “You claim that you killed a woman in cold blood, and you’re still trying to get me to empathize with you?”

  She flushed.

  “You didn’t kill her, did you? Admit it.”

  “We did,” Farrah said, but she was quiet and she had stopped looking at me again.

  “Come on, Farrah. Tell the truth.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to turn her skin white.

  I waited.

  She never looked back up at me. She simply hung up her phone and got up.

  “Hey,” I said. “Come on, don’t leave.”

  But she walked away without a backward glance.

  * * *

  “Ivy Stern?” Jack Cannon was giving me a knowing grin. He was gripping his bottle of beer at a bar in downtown Renmawr, and from the looks of things, that wasn’t his first drink of the evening. “What do you want with me? You, uh, want to go somewhere… private?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  I glared at him. Sometimes my reputation was a big pain in my ass.

  I hadn’t known Jack Cannon well when I was on the force. I knew that he worked in Narcotics, and that was about it. But he seemed to be one of those stupid, stereotypical cops. A guy who was macho and dim witted. Someone who’d taken the job primarily because of the power trip he could go on as a cop. I was inclined to dislike him, even if his bank account didn’t show a big increase in money from an unknown source recently.

  “We can talk here,” I said, my voice cool. I had been planning to go on and buy myself a High Life, but now I didn’t even want to share a drink with this asshole. I’d keep this short, and I’d be away from Jack as soon as I could. I really didn’t like the guy.

  He smirked. “Look, if talking is what you have in mind, I’m not sure that I’m interested. I figured that if you were looking for me, it could only be for one reason, you know?”

  My nostrils flared. “Jack—”

  “I always wanted to get a chance to bang the infamous Ivy Stern,” he continued. “Do you do anal? Because I heard that you—”

  I slapped a printout of his bank account down on the bar next to us. “Where’d the money come from, Jack?”

  He picked up the piece of paper, squinting at it. “What are you talking about?”

  I pointed. “Right there. That’s quite a chunk of change. Where’d you get that much cash?”

  “Is this my bank statement?”

  “The O’Shaunessys, right? And you’re so brazen, because you don’t think you’d ever get caught, that you went right ahead and deposited the money in your account. You didn’t even try to hide it. You’re unbelievable.”

  “How did you get my bank statement?”

  “So, what did you do for the O’Shaunessys, hmm? Did you conveniently get rid of a little bit of evidence for them? Make it so we couldn’t nail them? Who’s side are you on, Jack?”

  He folded the piece of paper in half deliberately and stuck it in his
pocket. “What are you talking about, Ivy? This money was an inheritance. My great aunt June died and left it to me.”

  “Nice try. Inheritance money isn’t paid out in cash. That would have been a check cut to you, not cash you deposited.”

  “You got no right snooping around in my bank account. That’s not legal. You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you? You’ve been breaking the law. And guess what? I protect the law.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “No,” he said. “That’s my job. I’m a police officer. Unlike you, a disgraced woman who was fired from the force. You’re the one breaking the law here. Now you’d better drop this, or I’ll make trouble for you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not dropping anything. I’m onto you. I know what you did.”

  He laughed and took a swig of his beer.

  “I notice that you don’t even bother trying to deny it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re dirty. You’re working for the O’Shaunessys.”

  He laughed again. “I’m dirty?” His voice dropped several octaves. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard about you. I’m still up for that anal, if you—”

  “Fuck you,” I said. “I will stop you. I’ll make sure that you pay for what you’ve done.”

  “Fuck me?” he said. “Now we’re talking. Where do you want it, baby?”

  I wanted to slap him, but I didn’t. I turned and stalked out of there. I was over his shit.

  * * *

  After leaving Renmawr, I went home and had a drink at The Remington instead. It was good to be back in familiar territory. I saw Crane at the bar, drinking a glass of wine and blowing out chocolate-smelling vapor. He wanted to know how the case was coming along, but I didn’t want to talk about it, so I changed the subject. I didn’t have anything to share. There was nothing happening yet, and I was getting nowhere. I had to admit that I felt a little guilty about being distracted from paying work by my little vendetta against the dirty cops on the O’Shaunessy payroll. I was pretty sure what Crane would say about that if he knew about it.

  He’d tell me to leave the O’Shaunessys alone, not to mess with them. After all, the last time I’d gotten tangled up in that family’s business, I’d ended up in the hospital.

  So, I didn’t talk to Crane about any of that. Instead, I asked him about his work, wanted to know what he was teaching, what his students were like. Crane claimed that he didn’t want to talk about his job, but he was a liar. He loved talking—he couldn’t be a professor otherwise.

  So, Crane went on and on about some poetry he was teaching, and I sucked down a few High Lifes in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by boisterous talking and laughter, feeling as if I belonged here, as if everything was right with the universe.

  It was one of those nights where everything felt right between Crane and me. If every night was like that, maybe we would be a typical, conventional couple, because we were happy together, and we cared about each other. Of course, that wouldn’t ever really happen. Neither of us was interested in something like that. But on a night like that, I couldn’t help but make-believe that I was a normal woman, and that Crane and I were a normal couple. I imagined what it would be like if we were married—the professor and the private detective. It was a nice fantasy, and it was driven home by the fact that we went back to my place and had sex.

  The sex was great, familiar and a little sweet. Crane knew just how to touch me, knew my body as well as I knew his. We fell into our movements together as if they’d been rehearsed a thousand times. Maybe, if you looked at it a certain way, they had. We were a good fit for each other, gasping and whispering together in my bed.

  He expertly brought me to orgasm, his fingers thrust between our writhing bodies the way he knew I liked it. I bucked against him, moaning. He drove into me over and over.

  It was bliss.

  If we’d been new to each other, maybe there would have been more cuddling, more closeness after it was over. But we both grew uncomfortable in each other’s arms. He was a little sweaty and my arm was trapped against his chest. So, by mutual silent agreement, we moved away from each other to opposite sides of the bed where we could be more comfortable and go to sleep.

  When I woke up the next morning, Crane was already gone. He had a ten o’clock class the next day. I didn’t have to be in to the office until much later. I took my time getting up and ready. I guzzled water—which I did every morning—and took a couple ibuprofens to deal with my typical morning hangover headache. I took a leisurely, long shower, luxuriating under the hot jets of water.

  Then it was off to The Sunshine Skillet for my breakfast and coffee.

  I didn’t make it to the office until sometime around 12:30. I half expected to see Brigit there early again, but she wasn’t there.

  But I was met by someone at the door to the office. Pike was there, waiting for me, arms crossed over his chest, scowling like he’d just eaten something sour.

  I put my key into the lock and opened the door, nonchalant. “Pike. What a lovely surprise.”

  “You’re in a good mood this morning, Stern.” He didn’t sound pleased.

  “You’re not.” I swung open the door to the office and gestured for him to enter. “You still have your panties in a bunch about Crane Drakely?”

  Pike actually blushed. He turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “About that? I was drunk, and I wasn’t myself—”

  “I’ll say,” I said, eyeing him. “I’ve never seen you like that before. And I’ve seen you drunk.”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, it’s not going to happen again, so…”

  “What was that all about anyway?”

  “I’m sorry. Can we drop it?” An annoyed edge was creeping into his tone.

  That was odd, too. I didn’t remember Pike being this… emotional. I cocked my head and sized him up. “You okay? Really, if there’s something going on with you—”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “Me?”

  “There a reason you’re putting the screws to Jack Cannon?”

  I made a face. “He told you about that?”

  “He told everyone about that,” said Pike. “He seems to think it’s a big joke, and he’s been blabbing it all over the place. How did you manage to get your hands on his bank account, anyway?”

  “I have ways,” I said.

  “Well, you better cover those ways up, because Jack’s trying to convince anyone he can to launch an investigation into you.”

  I smirked. “I got under his collar, then. Made him uncomfortable. He knows what he did, and he knows I’m onto him.”

  “What is it that you think he did?”

  “Oh, he’s leaving that part out, is he? Well, you should know, Pike, that he’s one of the people who’s taking kickbacks from the O’Shaunessys.”

  “And you know this because…?”

  “Of his bank account, of course.”

  “Because he deposited some money into it? That doesn’t prove anything.”

  “Both him and Dexter Howe were in the evidence locker at the same time the day before the evidence went missing. Both of them have identical chunks of change that they’ve dumped into their bank accounts. You tell me that isn’t suspicious.”

  Pike cringed. “Identical?”

  “Down to the penny,” I said.

  He made a face. “There are pennies involved?”

  “Well, no,” I said. “It’s just an expression. What I’m saying is that they both deposited the exact same amount around the same period of time, and they were both in the evidence room together. There’s no way that’s a coincidence. And the thing about it that makes it even worse is that they aren’t even trying to hide what they’ve done. They’re brazen about it, putting the money in their personal bank accounts. Like they know they won’t get caught.”

  Pike walked away from me, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Okay, okay, Ivy. I get it.
But you’ve got to stay out of this, you understand?”

  “So, you’ll do something about it, then?” I said. “You’ll inform Internal Affairs, get them to investigate the both of them? Get them fired?”

  He turned around to face me. “They work for Internal Affairs.”

  “What?” I said. “No way. Jack Cannon is in Narcotics.”

  “Used to be,” said Pike. “Recently, he transferred.”

  I clenched my hands into fists. “Those fucking bastard O’Shaunessys have infiltrated our department.”

  “My department,” said Pike gently. “You don’t work there anymore. You don’t need to worry about this. It’s not your business.”

  “If the police that protect me are all taking bribes from the mob, then it’s everyone’s business in this entire city. We’re not safe.”

  He sighed.

  “Something’s got to be done, Pike.”

  “Not by you,” he said. “Didn’t you say you had a case or something? Isn’t there something else you could be doing to keep busy?”

  “This is important.”

  “I get that. But stay out of it, all right? It’s not your concern, and you’re just going to get yourself in trouble.” He started for the door. “I mean it, Ivy. I don’t want to hear that you’re poking your nose any further into this.”

  “But the evidence,” I said. “It needs to be recovered.”

  “After being stolen, it would be inadmissible anyway.” He paused at the door. “Ralph will go away regardless. You know that.”

  “What about the O’Shaunessys?”

  “You’d be better off if you just forgot about the O’Shaunessys.” He swung the door open. “Stay out of it. I mean it.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Well, if Farrah said that she did it, then I guess she did,” said Natalie Smith as she folded linens.

  Brigit and I were back on the farm, and we were in the main house, inside the big laundry room, talking to Farrah’s sister, Natalie. Even though Laura didn’t appreciate the fact that I was spending so much time on the farm interviewing her own people, I wanted to really rule out the loony loyalists before I moved on to anyone else.

  “Did your sister seem like a violent person?” Brigit asked.