Black Ice (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (4 page)

Amanda narrowed her eyes. “That bitch deserved to die.”

“I think we’ve got enough information for now.” Ryder pulled out his card. “If you think of anything new, please give us a call. We’ll be in touch.”

Rick led them to the front door. “Wait. If Sophie just hit a tree, then why are you two investigating? Normally they just send uniformed officers to inform the family of their loved one’s death.”

Ryder pursed his lips. “Because, Mr. Romano, we have reason to believe your fiancée was killed intentionally.”

Blake waited until they were situated in the car to speak. “You were right about the mistress.”

“Seen it too many times to be wrong.” Ryder glanced over at her in the driver’s seat. “So who killed Ms. Boddy?”

She pursed her lips. “My gut says the fiancé.”

“Motive?”

“Money. The check wasn’t in the car when we searched it.” Blake tried to recall the list of items in the case file. “It was his car. She had a huge check. Maybe when the two argued in the back hallway, she told his sorry ass she didn’t want to marry him and he didn’t take it too well.” Ryder didn’t say anything and it pissed her off. “What? No opinion?”

“Oh, I have an opinion.” He pulled out his notebook and jotted down some notes. “And you’re totally off base.”

Blake scoffed. “Do share your thoughts.”

“I think the trashy little blonde is involved.”

As she parked the car at a local diner, Blake pushed his theory out of her mind. She needed facts, not opinion.

After dinner, Ryder drove back to the hotel and parked next to Blake’s car. Working on a case was like solving a puzzle, each tiny little piece fit into the equation somehow. They didn’t have much other than speculation to go on, which frustrated her. He climbed out of the car and headed inside the building.

“Where is your room?” Blake asked when they punched the “up” button to the elevator.

He glanced at his key card. “Second floor, 222.”

“Oh, no. That’s my room. Get your own.”

The elevator arrived, and he stepped inside the small metal box. “Lou set me up with this room. I’m not paying for my own room when the department is paying for yours. Not happening.”

“This can’t be happening.” She pushed the second floor and folded her arms over her chest. “At least there are double beds.”

Ryder stared at her, half amused. “A lot of women would love to share a bed with me.”

He wanted to laugh at her shocked expression. “That doesn’t even deserve a response. And
that
is so not happening so you might as well cease all those comments right now, or I’ll report you to Lieutenant Nelson.”

He smirked. “Everyone told me you’d be uptight. I didn’t believe them until now. Do you still think it’s the boyfriend?”

The elevator opened, and they stepped out onto the second floor.

“Are we playing
Clue
again?” Blake turned and headed down the hallway toward the room she’d share with him.

“If you want. I don’t think there are any Colonel Mustards or Miss Scarletts in our version though. But then again, with the blonde bimbo’s hot body, who needs Miss Scarlett? Our version is definitely better.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Maintain a professional approach, detective.”

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, stopping at the closet to hang her parka. He sighed. She had no personality. He brushed past her and undid his jacket, laying it on the bed. He sat at the desk and flipped on the lamp before opening the case file.

“Do you think possibly that there is more to this picture than what we’ve got? Maybe someone targeted the stepfather? He’s got money. Taking the daughter would be a common payback. Maybe it went too far?”

“Look, I like to go over evidence and figure the case out that way, piece by piece. I don’t like assuming something when I know nothing. Nothing in that file insinuates Robert was the target.”

Ryder shrugged. “Fine. But the boyfriend didn’t do it.”

“How can you be so sure, hotshot?” Blake crossed the room, checking off Rick’s list of faults on her fingers. “It was his car. He admitted to wanting the money and needed Sophie to get it. He banged a girl on the side. Hell, instead of calling his fiancée to see if she made it home okay, he decided to screw his mistress again that night, then again this morning when we arrived. He obviously didn’t care about her or respect their relationship. And when we told him we believed she was murdered, it didn’t come as that big of a shock to him or the bimbo. So right now, all fingers are pointing toward him.”

“But he has explanations for everything.”

“All cheating men do.”

So that’s her problem.
Ryder shifted slightly. “My gut says he didn’t do it.”

“Well, I believe he did.”

“Isn’t the girlfriend a more plausible explanation? She admitted she didn’t like her. They got into an argument at the party. Sophie threatened to have her fired—”

“Maybe but just because someone dislikes someone else doesn’t mean they hate them enough to murder them. I dislike a lot of people—you, for example— but I wouldn’t kill them.”

“Really? That’s not what you told your partner when you called her in the bathroom earlier today.”

Blake pursed her lips. He’d caught her, and she knew it. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Good.” His gaze raked over her body from head to toe. “I can sleep soundly tonight knowing you won’t kill me in my sleep.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “What were you doing eavesdropping anyway?”

“A good detective hears everything.” He turned to the file again, getting back to business. “Who else do you dislike?”

“Why is that any of your business?”

He sighed, looking at the names of the people they interrogated that day. “Just trying to understand the female mind.”

He honestly didn’t think she’d answer. She gave no personal information about herself to anyone. His new partner was a complete mystery, one he couldn’t wait to crack.

“My ex-boyfriend.” She shifted slightly, uncomfortable with her admittance. “Not that that story is any of your business.”

Ryder chewed on his pen cap. “He cheat on you?”

“Among other things.” Blake moved to the small refrigerator and grabbed a soda.

“So, you and our vic have something in common.” He glanced up at her.

She didn’t bother responding to his comment, changing the subject again. “I still think it’s the boyfriend. He’s not telling us something about that night.”

Ryder scribbled Amanda’s name down. “Why would he kill off one of his bed buddies if he enjoyed sleeping with them both? He said it himself that he enjoyed some of the best sex of his life when his two women competed to be better than the other.”

“Money?”

“Not strong enough. I think sex is a stronger motive to keep them alive in this case than money is to kill. He needed Sophie to live in order to get the large checks. Once she’s gone, the money’s gone. And, according to his statement, with her alive he enjoyed the best of both worlds.”

Blake let out a frustrated sigh. “So who did it, James?”

“I don’t know.” He hated admitting it. “Maybe once we get that list of attendees we can narrow it down and call in some prospects for questioning.”

* * * *

They decided to go to bed around nine. If they wanted to question the attendees, they needed to start as early as possible before they all checked out and went their separate ways. James spent at least an hour in the bathroom, before he finally came out dressed in nothing but his boxers.

She tried not to stare. “I think it’s best if we split up tomorrow. You take half the list, and I’ll take the other half. Maybe we can work with the local police station and use their interrogation room.”

“Not necessary. The Lodge has conference rooms. They’ll do just as good.” He stood beside her to pull the covers back on his bed.

She bit her lower lip. Ryder James didn’t deserve to be gawked at, no matter how nice of a body he had. She rolled her eyes at her thoughts. Professionalism went out the window when he stepped out of the bathroom, and she didn’t know how to get it back.

“What do you like to do for fun, Warren?” He climbed into bed and pulled the blankets over him.

“I don’t have time for much fun.”

“It shows.”

She scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“You’re too uptight. You can't talk about anything but the case.”

“Well, it
is
my job. And I am supposed to be
working
.”

“Work should only encompass half of your life, not all.”

Easier said than done. Her life worked like a clock. Scheduled. Precise. Everything had a certain place, at certain times. She remained professional to vast degrees and admitted to avoiding personal relationships with people.

“What do you do for fun?” she found herself asking.

“This and that. Depends on my mood.” He shifted slightly on the bed and gave her his back. “I don’t seclude myself from the world though. Not like you.”

“Goodnight, James.” She flipped off the light, hoping to end all conversation.

“’Night, babe.”

She stared out the window for a long time before sleep finally found her.

* * * *

Ryder wanted to poke his eyeballs out by the time they interrogated the fifth waiter that served the party. Each story differed from the last, and mostly speculation. One saw the fiancé and the vic arguing in the hall. Another saw them kissing. Another saw the stepfather talking with the fiancé. Another saw the fiancé and the mistress making out. But the last waiter they interviewed claimed to have talked with the victim.

“Yes, I knew Sophie. We all went to school together.”

“We?” Blake asked.

“Me, Sophie, Amanda, Dave, and Elizabeth.” Josh Perkins, the waiter, shrugged. “We were all friends at one time but something happened between Amanda and Sophie. It eventually pushed our little group apart, both forcing us to pick sides.”

“Which side did you choose?”

“I didn’t really. Amanda came here often, and I always talked to her. Sophie saw us together one night and decided for me. The only one that I know who talks to her anymore is Dave. He’s her best friend. Maybe even her lover at one point in time. Who knows with rumors floating around.” He gave a nervous laugh

Ryder thanked him for his time and sent the man back to his work. He caught up with Blake in the main corridor. To his amazement, she wasn’t doing anything. “Sophie Stevens had a possible lover.”

She looked surprised. “I don’t believe it. I’ve been in her shoes, and when you’re the woman trying to keep the man from straying, you don’t have time to deal with another complication in your love life.” Blake pushed through the dining hall doors and entered a narrow hallway.

“Yeah, but maybe her love life was for shit. Just because the sex worked for him, didn’t mean she enjoyed it. She could have gotten her rocks off with her so-called friend. It’s not exactly uncommon.”

“From what I’ve found, Sophie Stevens didn’t bring embarrassment to those around her. Wouldn’t a scandalous affair be like a glowing neon sign?”

Ryder put the pieces together. “Josh Perkins said Sophie made the decision for him to not be friends. Could there be something more to that? Maybe he and the mistress planned something together?”

Blake opened another door that led to the valet section of the lodge. “Let’s talk with the valets before we determine anything.”

They spent two hours interrogating the hired valets, all ten of them working that night. Ryder didn’t understand why they needed that many people to park cars for one event. After working their way through the ten, each taking five a piece, they came away with nothing more than what they started with. Nobody saw anything. Everything worked properly, nothing noticeably abnormal when the two valets drove the car. Nothing reported fishy during the party or thereafter.

“So what now? We talk to the friend?” Blake led him back the way they came.

Each room had at least one security camera, Ryder noted, pointed mostly at the main section of the room. “Why don’t you meet with security and gain access to the camera tapes. I’m going to take a walk outside.”

He left her standing at the lodge’s office, glancing back one last time before he exited the building. It hadn’t snowed much since the previous night, leaving the parking lot clear. From the information the owner, Gavin Oliver, gave him, each valet controlled their own section of cars. If someone cut the line before the car moved, there had to be evidence. And he intended to find it.

* * * *

“Yes, of course, Detective Warren. The lodge is more than happy to accommodate anything the police need. I’ll be happy to escort you to the security room to gain the videos.” Paul Sheridan, manager of the lodge, guided her out of the main office and down a narrow hallway. “What a tragedy. I didn’t know Sophie Stevens personally, but I knew her father. He does a lot of business here, especially when clients come into town. He always recommends our lodge, and we appreciate it.”