Home Before Midnight (7 page)
Read Home Before Midnight Online
Authors: Virginia Kantra
Tags: #Contemporary Romance, #mobi, #Romantic Suspense, #epub, #Fiction
“How did you sleep last night?” he asked.
She didn’t think he really cared. Unless he wanted to know if guilt had kept her tossing and turning all night.
Well, forget him. She’d already endured her mother’s interrogation and her father’s unspoken concern this morning. No way was she embarking on another round of explanations and excuses with a suspicious detective.
“Fine.” Politeness prompted her to add, “And you?”
“I haven’t been to bed yet.” From his perch on the desk, he loomed over her. “I hear the Do Drop’s comfortable.”
Bailey’s stomach sank. At least now she understood his interest in how she slept. Last night, one of the uniformed officers had driven Paul to the Do Drop Inn, a bed-and-breakfast in the center of town. Burke wanted to know if she had spent the night with her boss.
“I didn’t stay at the inn,” she said stiffly. “I was at my parents’ house.”
Burke regarded her without expression. The silence sucked at her like quicksand.
“Frank and Dorothy Wells, eight hundred and eleven Cardinal Street. I got in about three.” Bailey stuck out her chin. “Way past curfew.”
He regarded her, that gleam still in his eyes. “I’m not going to charge you.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“Not for being out late, anyway.”
Resentment smoldered, a welcome, warming lump under her ribs. “Look, I didn’t come here to play games. Do you want me to sign a statement or not?”
Wordlessly, he handed her two closely typed pages of plain office paper.
“It’s short,” she said, surprised.
“You got anything you want to add? Any details you left out?”
Was he kidding? She couldn’t tell.
“I won’t know until I read it,” she said.
Despite the lightness in her head, the twisting in her gut, Bailey forced herself to read critically, carefully, searching for inaccuracies or bias. She was used to organizing and summarizing facts. She was good at it.
So was he.
When she finished reading the statement through the second time, she looked up and found Burke watching her with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Well?” he asked.
She wet her lips, struggling to be objective. “It’s very thorough,” she said. “Concise. A little dry.”
Like Burke himself, she realized.
His lips curled. “I wasn’t asking for a critique of my writing skills. Not that I don’t appreciate it, given your line of work. Was there anything you wanted to add?”
“Oh.” She flushed furiously. He was almost good-looking when he smiled. If you liked that ex-football player, muscle-bound type. Which she, thankfully, did not. “No.”
He leaned forward. “Then if you’ll just sign and date this here . . .”
She snatched the pen from him and signed, stabbing the pen at the paper.
“You sure there wasn’t something else?” he asked almost gently.
She squared her shoulders. “There was, actually.”
Burke didn’t stir from his perch on the desk. But his attention sharpened on her like a hound dog’s spotting a squirrel. “What’s that?”
She met his gaze straight-on. “I have to plan a funeral today, and I don’t have a body.”
He nodded. “Autopsy’s scheduled for this afternoon. The body should be released then. Give me the name of the funeral home, and we’ll see it gets there.”
Well. That had gone better than she expected.
“And I need to get into the house,” she added.
He rubbed his jaw. “That’s going to take a little longer. I can’t let you all in until we’ve completely processed the scene.”
“I understand you have a job to do,” Bailey said carefully. “But so do I.”
“Unfortunately for your boss, my job comes first. I won’t compromise this investigation for his convenience.”
Frustration bubbled inside her. She couldn’t fault him for being conscientious, but it was all so
unnecessary
. “What investigation? This was an accident. Even your chief says so.”
unnecessary
. “What investigation? This was an accident. Even your chief says so.”
His eyes narrowed. “You talked to the chief?”
“Well . . . yes. That is, Paul did. This morning.”
He didn’t say anything, but she felt the tension roll off him in waves like cold from a refrigerator.
She shivered. It was stupid to feel nervous. Even more stupid to feel guilty. Paul had been perfectly within his rights to talk with Chief Clegg. And if that made problems for the chief ’s lead investigator . . . Well, too bad.
She offered him a conciliatory smile anyway. “So, you see, there’s really no reason to delay. And it would make my job a lot easier if I could count on the house being available. Helen’s daughter will be here. She shouldn’t have to stay in a hotel. Not to mention everyone who attends the funeral will stop by the house afterward, and I have to feed them. People are already coming by with food, and there’s no one to accept it and no place to store it.”
“I hear they do a nice brunch buffet at the Town Diner,” Burke said, straight-faced.
He was joking. He had to be joking. She must have imagined that instant of stillness when he tensed and collected himself like an old dog who knows the limits of his chain.
“Unless Charlene is serving pecan tassies and tomato aspic, I’m afraid the Saint Andrew’s Ladies Guild won’t consider brunch at the diner an acceptable send-off,” Bailey said. “But thank you for that thought.”
This time she was almost sure he smiled.
Relieved, she stood, bringing herself to the same level, careful not to bump his knee or brush his thigh. “You’ll be in touch? After the autopsy, I mean.”
“Count on it,” Burke said.
Her smile faltered. It was the assurance she came for.
So why did it feel like a threat?
FOUR
W
ALTER Clegg propped his regulation size elevens on his desk.
ALTER Clegg propped his regulation size elevens on his desk.
The chief’s shoes and collar brass were polished and his uniform neatly pressed. After seventeen years managing the resources of his understaffed and underfunded department, Walt believed in the importance of police presence . . . and the appearance of his police. On days when tourists swelled the town—Founders Day, the Fourth of July—even the detectives turned out in uniform.
Steve understood the chief’s reasoning, but buttoning on that blue uniform made him feel like he’d been busted back to traffic cop.
Which, in a sense, he had.
“Steve, you ever wonder why our jail is so small?” the police chief asked.
Steve raised both eyebrows. “Because county lockup is only five miles down the road?”
Walt ignored him. He was good at ignoring things that didn’t suit his purpose. “It’s not that we don’t have crime in this town. We just don’t have as much of it as maybe you’re used to. You’ve got to understand how things work here.”
Steve’s headache tightened its grip on his neck. “I know how things work here. I was born here.”
“And your mother is a lovely woman,” Walt said smoothly. “We’ll never need to pay police informants as long as your mama is around. But you’ve been gone awhile. You need to remember folks count on us to preserve the peace, not stir up trouble.”
Steve inhaled. He wasn’t stirring up trouble, damn it. All he wanted was to put in his hours and go home. But . . .
“You said when you hired me that there’s no such thing as small town crime,” he reminded Walt.
“Well, that’s true. Human nature is human nature wherever you are. We’ve got our share of bad apples. Bad asses, too, what with the gangs moving in from Durham and Raleigh and all. That’s why I thought somebody with your experience would be such an asset to the department. But you know as well as I do that in a community this size, half the job is public relations. We’ve all got to get along.”
Steve knew all about the importance of getting along. He had almost five months left of his six-month review period before his hiring became permanent. The last thing he wanted was to argue with his boss. But he’d be damned before he’d let concern for his job keep him from doing it.
“Somebody wasn’t getting along with Helen Ellis,” he pointed out.
Walt eyed him reproachfully. “Now, you don’t know that.”
“I haven’t proved it.”
Yet
. “But it’s my job to keep an open mind.”
Yet
. “But it’s my job to keep an open mind.”
“And it’s my job to keep things from getting out of hand.”
Steve waited. The thin stream of air from the vent overhead spent itself in the thickness of the room. Sweat dampened the back of his shirt.
“I heard from Paul Ellis this morning,” Walt said.
Here it comes,
Steve thought. “Did he retract consent?”
Steve thought. “Did he retract consent?”
“Not yet. But he should. What were you thinking, placing the house in lockdown?”
“I was searching for signs of an intruder,” Steve said evenly.
“That’s bullshit. You know it, I know it, and if Ellis hasn’t figured it out yet, he’s dumber than I thought.”
“Has he lawyered up?”
“Naw, he’s just shooting off his mouth about how we’re all against him on account of he’s questioning our handling of the old Dawler case.”
“Not me,” Steve said. “The Dawler case was before my time.”
“Yeah, I guess it would be. We only had seven officers back then. Biggest case we ever saw. I was lead detective. You must have been, what, in high school?”
It was an attempt to put him in his place.
“Just out,” Steve said. “And in the army.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. Point is, Ellis is threatening to talk to the press.”
“What’s he going to tell them? His wife died. We’re investigating.”
“He doesn’t think we should be.”
Steve didn’t give a damn what Paul Ellis thought. “The ME doesn’t agree with him.”
“But the media might. He’s one of them—a writer.
Police Bungle Death of True Crime Writer’s Wife
makes a mighty interesting headline.”
Police Bungle Death of True Crime Writer’s Wife
makes a mighty interesting headline.”
“I don’t bungle,” Steve said. “He signed a written consent to search.”
“Which he can withdraw at any time.”
“Then I’ll get a warrant.”
“Not without probable cause, you won’t.”
Steve’s jaw clenched. “Which is why I haven’t gone to the judge yet. I’m waiting on the autopsy.”
Walt frowned and switched lines of attack.
“Ellis claims the responding officers contaminated the crime scene.”
“Why would he say that if he doesn’t think a crime has been committed?”
But Walt wasn’t interested in speculating on Paul Ellis’s motives. “Did they?”
Steve barely knew Wayne Lewis. But he wasn’t sacrificing the earnest rookie to some egotistical writer.
“Look, the EMTs were already there. Lewis called me, and I took appropriate steps to preserve the scene.” After it had been tromped through by a team of paramedics and all four officers on duty that night. “I don’t need Ellis or anybody else to tell me how to conduct an investigation.”
“Except me,” Walt said.
Shit
.
.
“Yeah,” Steve said slowly. “Except you.”
“As long as we both understand that.” Walt held his gaze a moment longer before he sighed and shifted a folder on his desk. “Autopsy’s this afternoon?”
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