Lethal Attraction: Against the Rules\Fatal Affair (34 page)

“I lived with him there for the last year or so of our relationship.” Red blotches formed on her cheeks. “I don’t recall giving the key back to him when I moved out.”

“I need to ask you something of a personal nature, and I apologize in advance if it offends you.”

“Everything about this offends me, Sergeant. A good man, a man I loved, has been murdered. It offends me on a very deep level.”

“I understand. However, my job is to find out who killed him, and to do that I have to ask you about his sexual preferences.”

Taken aback, Natalie said, “What do you mean?”

“Was he into anything kinky?”

Her cheeks went from blotchy to flaming. “We enjoyed a satisfying sex life if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Did he tie you up?” Sam asked, playing a hunch based on the type of porn they’d found on his computer. “Did he get rough? Want more than the usual deal?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” Natalie stuttered. “It’s my personal business,
his
personal business.”

“Yes, it is, but aspects of his murder were intensely personal, so if you’d answer the questions, I’d appreciate it.”

Natalie took a long deep breath and exhaled it as she spun a huge diamond engagement ring around on her finger. “He was a creative lover.”

Sam used her trademark steely stare to let Natalie know she’d have to do better than that.

“
Yes
,” she cried. “He tied me up, he could be rough, he asked for more than the usual deal.” Descending into sobs, she added, “Are you satisfied?”

“Were
you?
Did you go along with it because you wanted to or because you felt you had to?”

“I loved him,” she said in a defeated whisper that set Sam’s already frazzled nerves further on edge. “I loved him.”

“Did he ever bring other people into the relationship? Male or female?”

“Of course not,” Natalie sputtered. “No!”

“Mrs. Jordan, I’m going to need you to stay available until we close this case.”

“My husband and I are due to leave for Arizona in a few days to visit his parents for Christmas.”

“You’re going to have to change those plans.”

Wiping her face, she said, “Do I need an attorney, Sergeant?”

“Not at this time. We’ll be in touch.”

CHAPTER 17

“Go ahead and say it,” she muttered to Freddie when they were back in the car.

“Say what?”

“I was too hard on her. I’m a mean, insensitive bitch. Whatever’s on your mind.”

“I feel sorry for her.”

She hadn’t expected that. “Other than the obvious, why?”

“Did you notice the one thing she
didn’t
say?”

“How about we skip the Q&A, and you tell me what you observed, Detective.”

“She said she ‘adored’ her husband. She never said she loved him. How many times did she say she loved O’Connor? Four? Five?”

Startled, Sam could only stare at him.

“What?” he asked, squirming.

“We might just be making a detective out of you yet.”

Freddie flashed that
GQ
smile, and damn it if her heart didn’t skip a beat. He was so goddamned cute.

She started the car. “You know, you can feel free to jump in when we’re interviewing people.”

“And interrupt your groove? I wouldn’t dream of it. Quite a pleasure to watch you work, Sergeant Holland. Shame on me if I spend a day with you and don’t learn something.”

“Are you sucking up?” She shot him a suspicious glance as she drove through Belle Haven. “What do you want?”

“Other than lunch, I couldn’t ask for anything more than I already have. Where are we heading now?”

“We’ve got two more ex-girlfriends to knock off the list, and then I’d like to have a word with Noel Jordan.”

“Are we going to ask the exes about their sex lives?”

“Damn straight.”

He sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

* * *

Tara Davenport, age twenty-four, worked the lunch shift at a high-end restaurant that catered to the Capitol Hill crowd. Sam presented her badge to the maître d’. “We need a few minutes with Tara Davenport.”

“She’s working. Can you come back at end of shift? Around five?”

“This isn’t a social call. I can speak with her in a private space you’ll provide or I can haul her out of here in cuffs and take you with us for interfering with a police investigation. What’s it going to be?”

Looking down his snooty nose at her, the stiff said, “Wait here and keep your voice down, will you?”

“Mean and scary,” Freddie murmured, drawing a laugh from Sam.

“Thank you.”

“You would see that as a compliment.”

“How else should I see it?”

They watched the stiff tap a slender but well-endowed young blonde on the shoulder and point to Sam and Freddie. He signaled to them, and they followed Tara to the back of the busy restaurant. On the way, more than a few patrons took notice of them. For some reason, that pleased Sam, so much so she hitched her hands into her pockets and put her weapon and badge on full display.

“Class act, Sergeant,” the maître d’ seethed.

“The next time myself or any of my colleagues appear at your door, perhaps you’ll consider cooperating.”

“You have fifteen minutes. After that you’ll need a warrant to set foot in here again.”

“Will I need a warrant if I wish to return for a follow-up visit, Detective Cruz?”

“No, ma’am, in most cases an informal interview of a potential suspect in a homicide investigation doesn’t require a warrant.”

The stiff paled. “Homicide?”

“Step aside and let me do my job,” Sam said in a low growl. “So much as knock on that door and I’ll haul your skinny ass downtown and put you in a cage with some guys who’d love nothing more than to make you their bitch.”

He swallowed hard and moved to let them by.

“Mean
and
scary,” Freddie said again.

Choking back a laugh, Sam opened the door to the break room where Tara Davenport waited, pale and trembling. As she introduced herself and Freddie to Tara, Sam questioned whether the woman had the physical strength to put a butcher knife through John O’Connor’s neck.

“Is this about John?” she asked softly after agreeing to allow them to record the conversation.

“It is. Can you provide your whereabouts on the night of the murder? Tuesday, from ten p.m. to seven a.m.?”

Rattled but firm, Tara said, “I was out with some friends, early in the evening, but home by ten.”

“I’ll need you to give Detective Cruz a list of the people you were with. Do you live alone?”

She nodded.

“So no one can verify your whereabouts after ten?”

“No.”

“No one saw you arriving home? Neighbors?”

“Not that I can recall.”

“How and when did you meet Senator O’Connor?”

“I met him about six months ago. He was a regular here. He and his chief of staff, Nick, came in for lunch a couple of times a week when the Senate was in session.”

Sam’s belly twisted at the mention of Nick, whom she’d studiously tried to block from her mind all day. Remembering his muscular chest and the tender way he’d cared for her after the dream infused her with heat. She shrugged off her coat and slung it over a chair.

“John always asked to be seated in my section. He liked to tease and flirt. After a few months of that, he asked me out to dinner.”

“Did that surprise you?”

“It did. I mean, he’s a United States senator. What does he want with a waitress?”

“What
did
he want?”

“At first, I thought he was lonely,” she said, her green eyes filling. “The first few times we went out, we talked for hours. He took me to nice places.”

“You must’ve felt like Cinderella,” Freddie said.

“In some ways, I did. He was a perfect gentleman, and so very handsome.”

“Did you fall for him?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “If you knew John at all, you’d know it would be hard not to.”

“So what happened?”

Playing with her fingers, Tara said, “We had dated for a few weeks when he asked me to spend the night with him.”

“And did you?”

Looking down at her lap, she nodded. “It was lovely.
He
was lovely.” She swiped at tears. “We couldn’t get enough of each other.”

“Did you have a key to his place?”

“He gave me his once when I was meeting him there, but I gave it back to him that same night.”

“Why did it end?” Freddie asked.

“He, ah...he was looking for more than I was willing to give.”

“In the relationship?” Sam knew the answer before she asked.

Tara shook her head, her cheeks blazing with color. “In bed.”

“What happened to lovely?”

“I wish I knew. After a few times, it changed. He became rough, almost aggressive. And he wanted...things...that I’m not into.”

“What kind of things?”

“Is this really necessary?”

“I’m sorry, but it is.”

“He...”

“I know this is terribly difficult for you, Ms. Davenport, but we’re looking for a killer. Anything you can tell us that will aid in our investigation is relevant.”

Tara took another moment to collect herself. “He wanted bondage and...anal.”

“Did you have anal sex with the senator, Ms. Davenport?”

“No! I said no! I don’t do that. I’m not into that.”

“And how did he take it when you refused him?”

“He was mad, but he didn’t try to force me.”

“Honorable,” Freddie muttered. “Did you see him again after you refused?”

She shook her head. “I never heard from him again.”

“How did you feel about that?” Sam asked.

“I was sad, devastated. I thought we had something special, and then it was just...over. Like you said. For a few weeks, I felt like Cinderella. It was right out of a fairy tale.”

“But he wasn’t your Prince Charming,” Freddie said.

“No.”

“Did he ever ask you about bringing other people into your sexual relationship?” Sam asked.

Tara’s face lit up, her cheeks flaming. Bingo.

“Ms. Davenport?”

“Once,” she said softly. “He said it would be amazing for me to have two guys at the same time.” A shudder rippled through Tara’s petite frame.

“Did it seem to you that he’d done that before?”

“Yes.”

“And you said what to this request?”

“I told him that I was perfectly satisfied with just him. He seemed annoyed that I said no.”

“That must’ve been disappointing,” Sam said.

“It was.”

“Were you disappointed enough to kill him, Ms. Davenport?”

She blanched. “
Kill him?
You think I
killed
him?”

Her shock was so genuine that it all but knocked her off the list of suspects. “If you could just answer the question.”

“No, I wasn’t disappointed enough to kill him. I didn’t kill him.”

“Have you told anyone else about why your relationship with the senator ended?”

“No. It’s not something I’d ever talk about with even my closest friends. It’s mortifying, to be honest.”

“How did you feel when you heard he was dead?”

“Sad. I was overwhelmed with sadness. But to be honest, I wasn’t entirely surprised that someone killed him. If you treat people the way he treated me, it’s going to catch up to you eventually.”

“I need you to stay available and in town for the time being.”

“I’m working through the holidays,” she said, her voice flat, devoid of hope or animation. “I’ll be here.”

* * *

“I have trouble understanding his type,” Freddie said when they left the restaurant.

“You would. Do you think he was gay?”

“And in the closet? Working it out on women?”

“He certainly went for a type. The porcelain blonde. No way Tara is strong enough to get a knife through him on one stroke.”

“I was thinking that very same thing.” He paused and seemed to be pondering something. “So you know how we always joke that we spend more time together than we do with our own families?”

“
You’re
the joker. I’m the serious law enforcement professional.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Your point?”

“I’ve known you a long time. Partnered with you over a year.”

“Do you have a point? ’Cause if you could get to it in this decade, I’d like to get back to work.”

“I have a point,” he huffed. “It’s just when she mentioned Cappuano in there, your face got all red and you had to take your coat off.”

“I was hot! So what?”

“You were
flustered
. And you’re
never
flustered.”

Her stomach picked that moment to make its presence known.
Never flustered?
Ha!
She spent half her life flustered but apparently did a good job of hiding it.

Freddie stopped on the sidewalk and turned to her. “Tell me the truth, Sam. Are you into him?”

She chose her words carefully. “The job, it takes almost everything I have. I work, I take care of my father, I help my sisters with their kids whenever I can. That’s my life.”

“Do you think I’d begrudge you wanting more?” His warm brown eyes flashed with emotion. “You think that?”

“He’s off limits. There’s no point talking about something I can’t have.”

“Why can’t you have him?”

“He’s a witness! He found O’Connor. He’ll be wrapped up in this until sentencing.”

“He didn’t kill anyone. He’s on our side.”

She shook her head. “It’s a murky ethical pit, and you know it.”

“You’re right. It’s not clean. Few things in life ever are. But he wants this closed as much as we do, if not more. He
flusters
you, Sam. That’s an amazing thing, if you ask me.”

“I’d say unsettling is a better word.” Glancing up at him, she added, “You won’t say anything about this at HQ, will you?”

“Give me some credit, and while you’re at it, ask your friend Cappuano if there’s any chance the senator was gay.”

“He’ll say no.”

“Humor me, and before you drag me into another interview that includes questions about peculiar sexual appetites, you’re going to have to do something about mine.”

She turned up her nose. “Your sexual appetite?”

“Nope.” He chuckled and rubbed his belly. “The other one.”

* * *

Sam pulled rank, insisted they have lunch at a vegetarian sandwich shop and was treated to Freddie’s vociferous complaints about the lack of grease.

“Can’t even get a stinking French fry in this place,” he muttered as Sam downed her small veggie sub and wondered if it really had fewer than six grams of fat. No doubt every gram would find its way to her ass.

“If you’re done sulking, we need to hit Total Fitness on Sixteenth.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you taking up working out to go with this diet you’re on?”

“Just because I choose to eat healthily doesn’t mean I’m on a diet. Another of the senator’s ladies works at the gym as a personal trainer.” She consulted her notebook. “Elin Svendsen.”

Freddie perked right up. “Swedish?”

“Sounds like it.”

“Blonde, buff
and
Swedish? This day is suddenly on the upswing.”

“Why, Freddie, I thought you were above such base human emotions as lust.”

“Just because I’m choosy doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a little eye candy as much as the next guy.”

“This insight into the male psyche is fascinating. Truly.”

“I’m here to serve.”

Elin Svendsen was not only buff, she looked like she’d be capable of kicking some serious ass when provoked. Easily five-ten or -eleven, with white blonde hair, icy blue eyes and a figure that could stop a train dead on its tracks, Sam decided she wouldn’t want to meet up with Elin in a dark alley.

They caught her between clients and followed her into the club’s juice bar, which wasn’t due to open for another hour. They declined her offer of fruit smoothies.

“Do you mind if I make one for myself? My energy is starting to flag. Been a long morning.”

“Not at all,” Sam said. “Do
you
mind if we record this?”

“Nope.”

Noticing Freddie had his eyes glued to Elin’s every movement, Sam nudged him to get his head back in the game.

He replied with a chagrinned smile.

Elin joined them at the table with a strawberry smoothie. “If you’re here to ask if I killed John O’Connor, I didn’t.”

“Where were you the night of the murder, between ten p.m. and seven a.m.?”