Death in Her Eyes (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 1) (21 page)

Two full rows of gold teeth were clearly visible in the burned skull. This guy was shot then fried to a crispy well done
. At least he didn’t suffer
, I thought.

Stan caught some movement in the woods beyond the wrecked vehicle. He waved as a cop in fatigues and a shoulder holster emerged from the woods, a camera hanging around his neck. A second figure, a woman also in fatigues, appeared carrying a toolbox in one hand and a metal detector in the other. I guessed the guy with the shoulder holster was the detective assigned to the case and the woman a crime scene tech.

“Who are you people? What the hell are you doing in my crime scene?” the guy demanded.

“Sgt. Lee, Orange County SO,” Stan said as he approached the beanpole. “We talked on the phone…”

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Detective Skinner, Seminole SO,” the gaunt man in faded green BDUs said as he came around the front of the toasted SUV. Calling to the crime scene tech Skinner said, “After you finish bagging the stuff we found, hang around until the ME gets here, will you?”

“Sure Sarge. I’ll let you know if anything new comes up too.”

“Check with you later.”

Turning his attention to us, the guy went straight to Stan while keeping is eye on me.

“Stan Lee,” Stan said accepting Skinner’s hand “and MacDonald Everett. He’s a PI, but don’t hold that against him. We appreciate your call.”

I offered Skinner my hand, but he refused to take it.

“I don’t get what you want here.” he said to Stan. “You have an interest in Greer?” Skinner asked.

“Like I said on the phone, she’s a person of interest in a couple of things we’re looking at,” Stan replied warily.

“Was a person of interest. She won’t be doin’ much talkin’ now, will she?” Skinner smirked. “What were you looking at her for?”

“Murder and investment fraud for starters,” Stan replied. “I think we can help you on this one detective. The registration on the vehicle may come back to Sharon Greer, but we have reason to believe that’s not her body in there,” Stan said pointing to the smoldering mess behind us.

“What? Why not?” Skinner was not a happy camper.

“The corpse has several gold teeth. Mr. Everett believes that’s the body of one Luck Taylor. He interviewed him yesterday.”

“You can’t forget that mouth full of gold,” I chimed in. “I’ve spoken to Greer recently too. She didn’t have any gold dental work that I could see. Your corpse has a mint’s worth of gold in his mouth.”

“Where were you last night, Everett?” Skinner demanded, “and who the hell is Luck Taylor?” Skinner demanded.

I was about to answer when Stan interrupted and said, “Mr. Everett was in the hospital or with me last night, detective. I can have a full profile on Taylor and Greer to you by this afternoon. I think it’s safe to assume Greer would be a good suspect.”

“Person of interest,” Skinner corrected.

“Right, person of interest,” Stan agreed. “Detective Skinner, was any evidence found in the search of the area around the vehicle?”

“We found some tire tracks over there,” Skinner pointed to the left of the car’s remains. “A small car pulled in behind the burned vehicle. Someone walked up to the driver’s door then back to the other car and left the way they came. The tracks are small, maybe a woman, or a short man.”

“Greer is about 5’6,” I said. “She was hearing high heels when I saw her.”

“We’re doing casts of the tire tracks and the shoe impressions,” he said. “Why would someone else be driving her ride?”

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“We found a cigarette butt near the tracks of the second car. I’ve never seen this brand before. Black paper with…”

“Black paper with a white ring and the words Djarum Black, a solid red triangle in place of the letter ‘a’ in the word black?” I asked.

“Yeah, how did you know that? Are you holding out on me?” Skinner accused.

“Yeah, what are you holding back?” Stan looked askance at me too.

“No, not holding out, just putting the evidence together,” I said. “I found butts like that near the scene of another homicide,” I said looking square at Stan.

Stan scowled at me.

“Detective Skinner, did the one you found here have lipstick?” I asked.

“Yeah it did,” Skinner replied.

“I’ll FAX you an evidence request when I get back to the office,” Stan said. “Maybe we can work this as a joint investigation.”

Skinner didn’t look like that was his idea of a good plan. I decided Roscoe and I should leave the high-level negotiations to the two cops.

“I’m not feeling too great,” I said. “We had better head back to the car.”

“You’ll get a full run-down on what we have by tomorrow afternoon,” Stan said to Skinner.

We excused ourselves, and walked toward our cars.

“When were you going to tell me about the cigarette butts?” Stan asked when Skinner was out of earshot.

“I didn’t understand the significance until now, Stan. I’m sorry.”

“I want everything you have by the end of the day, Mac. An obstruction charge is one you’ll have a hard time beating.” Stan had given me a friendly warning, but he was serious.

“I found a pile of butts near the Hunt place,” I said. “They were behind an empty condo. That’s where Cary Hunt said he saw a strange car parked. They looked like they’d been planted.”

“Where are these cigarette butts?” Stan asked.

“I’ve got them in the car. I was going to give them to you,” I said.

Stan lightened up when he remembered I was on his side.

“A couple people in this case smoke that brand. Greer was smoking one last night. I got a sample from her too.”

I dug in my pants pocket and came up with the envelope.

“Good thing I didn’t change my pants,” I said. “If these butts matches the other ones it could tie this crap all together.”

“But we still don’t know who the killer is,” Stan said.

“Did they do a search of Greer’s place last night? It was part of the crime scene.”

“No they didn’t. We’ll have to get a warrant.”

I dug in the center console of my car then handed Stan three plastic bags, each labeled with the date and location of collection.

“Ask the lab to run all these for DNA then compare them. See if there’s a match with the butt found near this car and the ones near the Hunt’s condo.”

“You never know until you ask,” he replied. “We could nail Greer with this. You think she did it?”

“She’s got a violent history. I think Greer killed Mrs. Hunt, but I’m not sure why. It could have been a lover’s quarrel or something to do with money, who knows. It’s all connected, but which domino fell first?” I said.

“You mean who bumped who off,” Stan corrected.

“Maybe Mrs. Hunt was skimming, you know the old Chinese squeeze,” Roscoe suggested.

“She was rich,” I replied.

“When you’re rich you never have enough,” Stan said.

“Like you’d know,” Roscoe shot back.

“I guess,” he muttered.

“Wait… one of the women I talked to yesterday said Mrs. Hunt was never satisfied. She never had enough. These people are all connected. It has to be Greer,” I said.

Once we got back to my place we hashed and rehashed the evidence, speculated all we could, but there was no clear conclusion. The evidence led right to Sharon Greer’s door, that much was clear, but was she a killer. We didn’t have enough to say one way or the other. I’d wasted another day. Stan and Roscoe left about two. I let my buddies out the front door and went down to the Drunk Monk.

“Hey Dave, I called to the night bartender. “ Mind if I have one while you clean up?”

“I thought you were in recovery,” Dave replied with a smile. I’d made him promise not to serve me. “I hate to see one of my best customers find religion, but you’re looking a hell of a lot better these days.”

“I am. I forgot. Thanks” I said. “Make that a double coke with plenty of ice.”

Dave laughed and said, “Want that in a to-go cup?”

“Sure,” I said. “You know, not drinking is an amazing hangover cure.”

I shot the breeze with Dave while he cleaned up and I sipped on my coke. Dave was a good guy and I enjoyed chatting with him. I found out he was having a problem with his boss.

“He’s on my back about bar shortages and the till not being right,” Dave said. “The drawer is never short and the beverage management system measures every drink. I think he just complains to hear himself talk.”

“Didn’t you tell me he was looking for a buyer?”

“Again, just talk. This place is a gold mine and it could be even better if he’d put in some food and class the place up a little.”

“Cheap drinks and cheap women make the world go round,” I said. “Why don’t you make him an offer?”

“With what, my good looks?”

“No really, how much would it take?”

“What, to buy him out?”

“Buy him out of the bar; buy the building, whatever it takes. There’s what, three of you tending bar, and Becky waitressing on weekends. If you pooled your money…”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I get that a lot. Look, I could kick in some money and…”

“Now I know you’re out of your mind.”

“Think about it. Talk to the others. We could make it work.”

We kicked around ideas for another hour then it was time for Dave to go. I said goodnight and Dave let me out the back door. I started up the steps only to find Ashton waiting for me on the landing.

“About time you got home,” she said. She sniffed my breath. “How is it a recovering alcoholic can sit in a bar for hours and not have a drink?”

I smiled at her and said, “I didn’t expect to see you again.” I gave her a kiss on the forehead and a hand up.

“I guess I was feeling guilty for ambushing you and then getting mad when you didn’t do what I wanted.”

“I could have handled it better,” I said. “It’s complicated.”

“So what is a guy on the wagon doing in a bar until closing time?” she said.

“Doing some healthy unwinding with a coke,” I replied. I held up my Styrofoam cup and rattled the ice. “It’s been a long day and my noggin’s killing me.”

“I could help you with that,” she cooed as she took my hand.

“Yeah, I would like that, but...”

“Look I’m sorry about this morning,” she said. “I’ve…well I’ve wanted you since we first met.”

Come on in,” I said, realizing I wasn’t as tired as I’d thought. “Pour yourself a drink and get me an ice pack, would you sweetie,” I asked. “You know I would if it weren’t for…”

“Stop. I get it,” she said. “I just came by to apologize.”

She was wearing a short skirt and a flimsy sweater with nothing underneath. I could feel her heat. Endorphins gushed through my system just being near her. Was it worth the career risk? Probably, but humping the client was wrong.

I sat down at the desk to start typing up my notes, but Ashton had other ideas. She returned from the kitchen with an ice pack and put it on the back of my head. Gently holding it in place, she leaned in to kiss me. The thrill was insane. I imagined peeling off her sweater to kiss her nipples. I couldn’t take my eyes off the mounds they made in her sweater. I saw myself ripping away her panties.

"Breathe into my ear…kiss it," she whispered, as she put her ear next to my lips. “Tell me what you want to do to me. Tell me.”

“You know,” I whispered as I tongued her ear. She squirmed with delight. “I want you,” I said. The tide was turning and I was the losing battle, but I wasn’t trying very hard.

“Take me,” she said, in her best Lauren Bacall voice.

“Stop it,” I said, leaping to my feet, knocking her down. “You’ve paid me a lot of money to do a job. I’m about the least noble guy there is, but this can’t come to anything but trouble.”

“Mac,” she said, tears in her eyes again.

“Look Ashton, the difference between fun and felony is checking beforehand,” I declared. “We both know what we want. It’s just going to have to wait.”

“So you want to be a Boy Scout. Can we draw out the anticipation a little? How about some petting, you know, kissing, touching, that sort of thing? You make me crazy.”

“No… go take a cold shower and let me do my job,” I said.
What was she, a sixteen year old revving up for prom?

“If that’s the way it has to be,” she said.

“It is,” I replied.

“We could talk about what we want to …”

“Get out of here,” I said. “If you want to play high-risk relationships, go somewhere else.”

She got that hurt look on her face and I thought she was going to cry again. “I want us to be friends with benefits, Mac,” she said. “You’re who I want. I guess I’ll just have to wait.”

“Well, cool down while you’re waiting. You’re a delightful distraction, but the key word is distraction.”

“What can I do to help?”