Death by Tea (13 page)

And they were coming from the parted curtains in the house next to mine.

Frustration and anger welled up inside me like a live wire. Eleanor Winthrow was spying on me while I was changing! How many nights had I forgotten to make sure the curtains were closed and she'd sat there in her room, watching me as I strutted about half-naked? What about after a shower, when I left my clothes on the bed, thinking I was safe and secure in my own house? What kind of horrible woman was she?

I couldn't let her get away with it.

I slipped my feet into a pair of plain blue slippers and stormed out of my bedroom, down the hall, and into the living room, turning lights on as I went. I was breathing hard and very near tears. I couldn't believe someone would spy on their neighbors this way, even though I'd seen her do just that many times before. I should have taken more seriously the warning Jules Phan gave me about Eleanor the day I moved in.

I unlocked the front door and stepped outside. The night was hot and humid. My hair instantly plastered itself to my face as I pointedly turned away from Buchannan's parked car and headed for the Winthrow place.

A faint, repeated
ping
tried to tear its way through the haze of anger that was clouding not just my vision but my thoughts. I was going to have words with the old woman and nothing short of a nuclear bomb was going to stop me. I felt violated, mostly thanks to Robert's icky messages, and maybe a bit because of Buchannan's lurking and rifling through my stuff.

I beat on the front door of the small house, fist hitting with a resounding boom as I shouted, “Eleanor! Get out here!”

She didn't answer right away, so I pounded harder. “I know you're in there! I saw you watching me!” The old woman had probably watched me cross the yard.

I glanced at the windows at the front of her house, fully expecting to see her watching me from one of them, yet the curtains remained closed and all of the indoor lights were off.

“Eleanor!”

Lights in the neighborhood began to click on. Faces appeared at many of the windows, just not in the one I was concerned with.

“Miss Hancock. Step away from the door.”

I turned to find Officer Buchannan standing about two yards away. His hand was near the gun in his holster like he thought I was going to do something stupid and attack him.

Maybe I was. I wasn't sure yet. And then there's the fact I was wearing nothing but a robe, with my hair a mess, plastered around my face, and my eyes bugging out in my rage. I probably looked like a banshee from a horror movie.

Or, well, maybe a reject from one. I wasn't in good-enough shape to be in a movie, villain or not.

The thought only made me angrier.

“She was spying on me!” I shouted at him, gesturing toward Eleanor's house. “I saw her while I was getting dressed.”

Buchannan's eyes moved from my face, slowly down my body, and lingered lower and longer than they should. Something snapped in me as Buchannan finally met my eyes again. I closed the distance between us in two strides and raised both of my hands at once. Something in the back of my mind screamed at me to stop, but I was beyond listening, even to what reasonable part of me remained.

“Don't. You. Stare. At. Me!” I punctuated each word with a pair of ham-fisted blows on Buchannan's shoulders.

He seemed stunned for a moment, letting me beat at him with punches that were so weak, they probably didn't even hurt, before he took a quick step back. He caught both of my arms in mid-down-stroke and spun me around in one fluid motion.

“Miss Kristina Hancock,” he said, his voice filled with anger. “You're under arrest for assaulting a police officer.”

I thrashed against him, so angry I could just spit. He held me tight, refusing to let me go.

And then, slowly, reason returned. All of the fight went out of me at once and I sagged to my knees.

Buchannan didn't hesitate. He zip-stripped me just as Eleanor's front door opened. She stepped outside, looking the part of an innocent old woman. I didn't even have the energy to be mad at her anymore. I was too embarrassed for much of anything.

Buchannan jerked me to my feet and spun me around. He marched me to his cruiser, hand on my bicep, and shoved me into his car. I went without a struggle. I'd lost control. This was my fault.

He slammed the door closed and said something softly to Eleanor, who nodded, eyes watching me from her stoop. A moment later, he got into the car, started the engine, and then we were zooming down the road, heading for the Pine Hills police station.

13

I ran my finger through the dust lining the bunk. I gave it a long look before sitting down. A plume of dust and stale air wafted up, sending me to my feet, hacking, which only caused me to suck in more dirty air. I staggered over to the sink and tried it, desperate for water, but only a trickle of brown water dribbled from the faucet before petering out. I turned to the toilet, not sure I was quite that desperate yet, to find that there wasn't even water inside it, and the seat was hanging on by a sliver of plastic.

“Really?” I croaked, turning to Buchannan, who was leaning on a desk that was covered in just about as much dust as my cell. It was obvious no one had spent any time down here for quite a while. There were two other cells, both closer to the stairs out of here. I had a feeling they had working water and a less cloying atmosphere, yet I got the crappy one.

Buchannan only grinned at me and crossed his arms as he leaned. He was enjoying watching me squirm. It was probably the highlight of his month.

“Look,” I said, opting for diplomatic. I walked to the front of my cell, batting at my robe to knock off some of the dust. “I didn't mean to hit you. I was just so upset, I lost control. Eleanor was peeping in my window and I lost it. Can you let me out of here so we can at least talk about it like civilized adults?”

“Peeping in your window? From her house?” He said it like he thought it was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard.

“She was!” I bit back the shouted insults I wanted to throw at him and forced a smile. “She was using binoculars. I saw the reflection while I was getting changed for bed.”

“Have you ever heard of blinds? I understand they are quite useful.”

“Argh!” I threw myself back down onto my bunk, sending another plume of dust flying into the air. It looked like I'd sat on an atomic bomb.

I couldn't believe Buchannan was actually sticking me in a cell like I'd gone and tried to murder him. I mean, I didn't actually hurt him with my pathetic punches. I might have surprised him, sure, but hurt him? I don't even think it was possible. The man seemed made out of stone—his brain included.

What I really wanted was for Paul Dalton to come waltzing down the stairs to my rescue. I hadn't seen him since he'd taken me home the night of the murder, and I was starting to worry he really did think I was responsible. He hadn't taken my calls, which could be because he was working. Or it could be because he doesn't want to talk to me anymore.

I heaved a sigh and crossed my arms, mirroring Buchannan's stance. His grin slipped a little at that, and he narrowed his eyes at me, but said nothing. Nor did he move like I'd hoped.

Time ticked slowly past. I was afraid Buchannan was going to stand there all night and watch me rot. At least he'd taken the zip strips off this time. I wouldn't have put it past him to cuff me to the cell and bind my ankles together, just so I'd suffer that much more. What did I ever do to him to deserve being treated like this?

“Can I have some water?” I asked. My throat and mouth were dry from all of the dust. It felt like I'd been sitting there for hours, but I had a feeling only twenty minutes or so had gone by. “I'm really thirsty.”

Buchannan gestured toward the sink.

“Jerk,” I grumbled, moving my hand in front of my mouth as I did so he wouldn't see or hear. He'd probably cite me for the insult. “What did I ever do to you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Why do you hate me so much? What did I do to make you angry with me?”

He was looking at me as if he had no idea what I was talking about. “I don't hate you,” he said. It came out as if it surprised him to say it.

“Then why this?” I gestured toward the crappy cell full of dust.

His brow furrowed. Could he really not know why he antagonized me so much? Was it just a natural reaction for him? Could it go deeper somehow? Was there something in his past that made him automatically distrust anyone new until they were able to prove themselves to him?

I didn't get a chance to hear what he would come up with because just then Chief Dalton came in. She strode meaningfully down the short hall, eyes never leaving Buchannan. She was glaring so hard, it was a wonder he didn't burst into flames.

She stopped a foot away from him and eyed him angrily. “Why is Ms. Hancock down here?” she asked. “You know we only use these cells for overflow.”

I rose and moved toward the cell doors so I could hear better. Before Buchannan could answer, Chief Dalton spun on me and released her wrath. “Sit down!” Her shout echoed off the walls.

I scurried back so fast, I very nearly missed the bunk in my haste to sit. My heart was suddenly pounding in my ears, and a warm flush was rising up my neck. I'd been so sure she would round on Buchannan, I didn't know what to do now that she was staring at me with fire in her eyes.

The chief started pacing in front of my cell. “I don't know what to do with you anymore,” she said, aiming the words at me, though she didn't look my way. “You repeatedly put yourself into situations you have no right being in.” She darted a glance at me. “What were you thinking? Attacking an officer? Krissy . . .” She shook her head in disappointment. It forcibly reminded me of all the times my dad acted that same way when I was younger and had done something stupid.

“I wasn't thinking.” I said it as meekly as I could. “Eleanor was spying on me, and my ex was sending me lewd messages. I sort of snapped.”

“Well, sort of snapped is no excuse. You could have hurt someone, yourself included. What would you have done if Mrs. Winthrow had opened the door?”

I shrugged. “Yelled at her?”

“And would it have stopped there?” Chief Dalton finally approached my cell. Her eyes were hard, angry. I had the distinct impression she was reconsidering her view of me. “We can't let this sort of thing slide around here.”

I felt all of the blood drain from my face. Could she really mean what I thought she meant?

“I'm sorry,” I said, words spilling out of me in a rush. I couldn't imagine staying in that dusty cell for very much longer. “I've apologized to Officer Buchannan repeatedly. I'm much better now. I won't yell at anyone ever again.”

Chief Dalton stared at me for a long time before giving me a helpless shrug. “There's nothing I can do. You assaulted Officer Buchannan. You inflicted bodily harm upon him. We have strict rules against that, in case you were ignorant of the fact that throwing wild punches at an officer of the law is illegal. We might play it loose with a lot of things around here, but attacking one of my men isn't something I'm going to let go.” She turned as if to leave.

“No, wait!” I leapt from my bunk and ran to the cell doors. “You can't leave me in here!”

She paused and looked back at me. “Oh, I can,” she said. “And I will.” She took another step before stopping again. She didn't look back at me when she said, “I'm starting to wonder if I was wrong about you.”

And then she walked away.

She actually walked away.

I was stunned. I mean, this was the same woman who had given me, a virtual stranger, her son's phone number in order to hook us up. She'd ignored our breaking and entering, and my other little misdemeanors and misadventures, yet this time she was leaving me down here to rot with Buchannan.

That couldn't be good.

I turned to face him.

“This is your fault.”

He actually looked surprised. “Me? I'm not the one who was throwing punches.”

“If you hadn't been following me around, then none of this would have happened.” I wanted to shake my finger at him through the bars, but I was afraid he might bite it off if I did. “You put too much pressure on me and I lost it.”

Buchannan didn't look the least bit sorry. He yawned and checked his watch as if I was keeping him from an important meeting.

I glanced back at the bunk and decided I didn't want to take another dust shower. I started pacing my cell, hoping against hope that Chief Dalton would come back down and tell me she'd only been testing me before letting me go. Or at least move me to one of the other cells. From what she'd said, I was thinking there were better cells somewhere else in the building.

And if the chief didn't show, I'd be just as happy to see anyone who wasn't Buchannan. Even Paul would do, despite the fact he'd been ignoring me lately. At least then I could ask him if he truly thought I could be the killer. If that was the case, then I would know where I stood and could move forward with my life.

Pacing was getting me nowhere, and sitting and sulking just wasn't my style.

But what could I do? It wasn't like Buchannan was suddenly going to get chatty. I could ask him about David Smith or his antagonism toward me all I wanted and I wouldn't get a damn thing out of him.

“I didn't kill anyone,” I said, sulkily. Saying it made me feel better, though it didn't seem to move Buchannan.

“We'll see.”

“I still don't get why you think I did it. Why would I kill someone I just met? In fact, I'd only said a few words to him before I left. Don't you think I would have been smarter about it if I killed him? Leaving him in my own store would be pretty stupid.”

Buchannan's eyes narrowed, as if he thought I was trying to trick him somehow.

“I didn't kill him,” I repeated in the vain hope I would get through to him. “I didn't even know the guy.”

Buchannan shrugged and looked away. No matter what I said, he wasn't going to listen.

“Maybe
you
killed him and are framing me because you don't like me,” I said, mostly under my breath but loud enough so he heard.

Buchannan took a step toward me, face going hard. “I am an officer of the law. I do not kill people. I keep people who do in cells like these.” He jerked a thumb at the empty cells. “Tread lightly, Ms. Hancock, or you'll be spending a lot more time down here than any of us would like.”

“It doesn't feel too good when people accuse you of things you didn't do, does it?” I grumbled.

“I know you are sticking your nose in this business like you did before. If you didn't kill the guy, then you need to stay as far away from it as possible. I don't want you interfering. If I catch you snooping around, I'm going to stick you back down here and keep you here until the murderer is caught.”

I wanted to keep pushing, keep denying, but it was getting me nowhere. And if I kept at it, I'd inevitably spend the next week sitting behind bars, breathing in the ancient dust. I had no illusions that Buchannan wouldn't stay true to his word. He was practically begging me to make a bigger nuisance out of myself so he'd have a reason.

“Can I have my call?” I asked, keeping my voice as steady as I could. I wasn't sure if I wanted to scream and yell or if I wanted to cry. In all my life, I'd never spent more than a few minutes in a jail cell. The first and only time had been for one of those high school scare tactics where they take kids to a local jail, shove them into a cell, and then leave them there for a few minutes. The other inmates would heckle and jeer at you, and then it would all be over.

That had been a terrifying couple of minutes. This was simply embarrassing.

Buchannan looked like he might deny me my right out of sheer spite, but relented. He walked over, unlocked my cell door, and then took me by the arm, as if he thought I might make a run for it. He led me a dozen feet to the rotary phone sitting on the desk. I stared at it incomprehensively for a moment, not quite believing one of those things still existed, let alone worked, before picking up the receiver. I waited for Buchannan to take a couple of steps back before dialing Vicki's number.

I was worried she might not be home—with the way my luck had been going lately, it felt a near certainty—but she answered on the second ring with a cheery “Hello?”

“Vicki.” I practically sobbed her name, I was so relieved.

“Krissy? Is everything okay? You sound . . . weird. Are you calling me from a tunnel?”

“No, just using an old phone.”

“Ah.”

“So, uh . . .” This wasn't going to be easy. How do you tell your best friend you've been arrested and that the cop had a good reason for doing it? It wasn't like I'd gotten drunk and accidentally flashed the neighbors or ran a red light. I'd actually
hit
a police officer. Never mind that it was Buchannan. The reality of the situation was finally sinking in, and I was quickly realizing I was the one who was a bonehead.

“Krissy?”

I sighed. What else could I do but tell her?

“I sort of got arrested.”

“Again?” I could hear the incredulous tone to her voice, tinny as it was coming through the old phone. “Please tell me you didn't go snooping around and get yourself caught somewhere.”

“If only,” I said. “This time, I might have taken a few swings at a police officer.”

There was silence from the other end of the line.

“Vicki? Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I'm just trying to take it in.”

“It was Officer Buchannan. He was sitting outside my house when I caught Eleanor looking in my window with binoculars. When I went out to yell at her, he sort of got in the way.”

More silence. And then a faint sound. At first, I wasn't sure what I was hearing. And then it got louder.

“It's not funny!” She was actually laughing at me. Some best friend! “I'm stuck in a dirty jail cell and will probably have to stay here all night with the fleas and who knows what else.” I looked down at my now filthy slippers. “And I'm wearing nothing but my underwear and a robe.”