Perfectly Evil Four

Chapter Fifteen

She couldn’t breathe. The heavy weight across her chest was pressing all the air from her lungs. Groaning, she tried to move out from under the weight to read her beeper. Before she could reach it, another beeper went off.

Nick tightened his arm around Maria, pulling her back against the warmth of his body.

“Is it mine or yours?”

“Both, I think,” Maria said as he released her to reach for his beeper. Glancing at the clock, Maria groaned, falling back to the bed. “Not even three hours.”

Nick wasn’t happy. Maria listened to his deep voice as it became quiet. He hung up the phone before taking her beeper and dialing in the call number. He passed the receiver to her.

“This is Maria.” Maria looked at the information that Nick had written from his call, nodding to him. It was the same scene. “I’m on my way.”

Handing him the phone, she closed her eyes for a moment.

“When was the last time you had a day off?”

“When I went to Michigan to find my mom and Brian,” she muttered, groaning as she tumbled out of bed.

“That’s not a day off, Maria.”

“It’s all I got.” Maria searched for clean clothes, but Nick stopped her on the way to the shower.

“Take a day; get someone else to work the cases. You’re spread too thin.”

Maria started to laugh, but it died in her throat. Damn, he was serious. The look in his eyes had nothing but sincerity. Sighing, she stroked his cheek.

“Thanks. I appreciate that you try to take care of me—actually, I really love it. I wish I could take time off, but…”

“Just do it.”

“I can’t.” He didn’t understand. No one did.

“Look, before Roland died, the medical examiner’s office was already down three positions of examiners and a few interns, due to marriage, graduation, transfers, and maternity leaves. The department was covering the deficit, and Roland was interviewing replacements when he died,” Maria explained.

“That’s why they bumped you from the Evidence Unit.”

“Right. I have the training with a degree, and I worked under Roland. It was never supposed to be a permanent position, you know that.”

“So why did you accept the position? Why aren’t you hiring for the missing positions? Dammit, Maria, you’re not Superwoman.”

“I know that.” Disgusted, Maria looked at her closet. The state of her wardrobe was horrifying. If some magical genie didn’t come in and do her laundry, she was going to have to perform autopsies in the nude.

“Then…”

“Look, I tried, okay? I really have tried to hire new examiners or even coax new interns, but it’s not happening.”

Nick tilted his head, confused. The job paid better than his job with great benefits. Maria saw that look. “Roland’s death,” she explained. “It’s hard to fill positions in a department that had its Chief Medical Examiner murdered in his own morgue.”

“Shit!” Nick blew out the air in his lungs heavily, his eyes moving over her slight form. Maria winced. Sure, she knew she looked like hell, but damn, does a man that just rolled out of her bed have to make the point?

“I’m sorry. I—I didn’t even consider how hard it would be.”

“I wish I could just drop everything and take a vacation, but I can’t. There’s no one left to pick up the slack.” Maria glanced at the clock. Time was ticking. “I’ve got to get in the shower. You going to make coffee first?”

“Yeah, just don’t hog all the hot water.”

Maria stopped before she went into the bathroom. Looking at him, she leaned in and kissed him, her hand resting on his cheek. “I promise, as soon as you solve my parents’ case with me, I’ll find a way to take an entire week off, go to Old Mexico, and sunbathe nude on the beaches.”

“I’ll solve the case if you take me with you.”

Maria blinked twice. Damn, she didn’t want to keep doing this. “Nick, don’t make me keep dumping you. I hate it.”

“I know, so don’t.”

Maria’s eyes were suddenly glassy. “I wish—I wish things could be different, but you’re my friend, and you deserve better.”

Nick watched her in the bathroom as she started the shower before going to the kitchen to start coffee. Maybe he deserved better in her view, but maybe it was his decision to determine what better was.

* * *

Deuce stood outside of the house in a nice middle-class residential area of San Antonio . He stared out across the tree-lined street as daylight replaced the gloom of night. He gulped hard as Nick joined him.

“Here, drink this.”

“I’m okay, man. It’s just…” Deuce shook his head, unable to finish.

Nick sipped the hot coffee with six sugars. Wincing at the sweetness, he continued to drink. The neighborhood was normally a peaceful one, but not today—maybe never again.

Glancing back into the house, he watched the Evidence Unit work. Maria was in there. It was hard. She would take this hard. Hell, he was having a hard time keeping his stomach and feet, and Deuce, who normally had strong stomach, had lost it.

Even the walls in the house bled. The moment he walked into the house, the smell knocked him back. The killer painted the walls with the blood, splashing it around.

“What did Maria say?”

Nick stomped on a cigarette he had bummed off a retching patrolman who was trying to get himself under control. “Nothing. She went to work, but she has yet to say anything. Jennifer and Lee are the primaries on this one. She was talking to them when I came out.”

Nick turned around quickly as there was action in the house. People were yelling, and suddenly EU investigators were rushing to another room.

Deuce and Nick followed them, but Maria came through a door from the top of the stairs pushing them back.

“Maria?”

“We found two more,” she said. Nick stared at her in shock. She didn’t look good. Actually, she was a wreck. Her eyes were so big in her face; he could almost fall into their dark pits.

“Another one? The same as the others?”

“No. One dead—one still alive—barely.”

“Maria?”

“There’s a young boy, maybe sixteen. He was wedged into a low cabinet, slashed like the parents. I had them remove the shelves so I could pronounce the official death. He was in a fetal position, and…”

Maria cleared her throat turning to stare into the room. Nick shoved the cold cup of sugared coffee into her hand. “Drink it,” he ordered.

Maria sipped the coffee, her eyes never leaving the room as the other investigators worked, and the sound of an ambulance blared from down the street approaching fast.

“He had a young girl, his little sister, held close into his stomach as he curled into a ball to protect her from the killer. The little girl, maybe four..., she’s still alive.”

Deuce cursed, swallowing the bile in his throat as two paramedics hurried up the stairs with a stretcher. Maria moved out of the way to allow them to enter. The living belonged to them and once they left, her job would begin.

* * *

Michael was standing in front of his freezer contemplating a frozen turkey dinner versus the inherent nutritional value of the Hungry Man fried chicken when his doorbell rang. Glancing at the clock, he had high hopes that his loser best friend, Jed, had decided to come early bringing pizza.

The game wasn’t on for another two hours, but there was always something on ESPN.

“Tell me you brought pizza,” he said opening his door.

“You’re out of luck. I couldn’t eat a thing.” Maria entered his apartment not waiting for an invitation. “There was something—I can’t remember.” Maria glanced at his closed bedroom door. “Anyone in there?”

“No. Maria, what are you…” Michael didn’t finish as Maria dropped her jacket she had been carrying on the floor and went into his bedroom. She hit the bed face down and didn’t move again.

“Maria...?”

Michael moved to the side, but he couldn’t see her face buried in an arm and her breathing was already shallow as she slept.

Well damn! Honestly, he never saw anyone fall asleep that fast. She had to be walking death. Staring at her sleeping form, Michael remained silent. What to do? Maybe he should call Mariah. Mom would know.

Michael reached for the phone, but his hand paused over the receiver. She said there was something she needed to say. Pulling his hand away, he covered her up with a quilt instead, removing her shoes first.

Nah, he wasn’t being nice or anything. Her shoes, they might mark up his bedding. This had to be a disarming ploy, because two months ago, there would’ve been no way in hell he would’ve left Maria asleep in his bed. Now she had slept in it two times in the last few days, and that was two times more than he had promised himself would ever occur. Damn, he was in trouble here.

* * *

Michael opened his door with a bit of haste, and a biting retort, glaring at his best friend, Jed. “Shh! Man, do you have to make so much racket?”

“Racket? I rang the doorbell,” Jed said, his tongue sticking into the side of his mouth. “Oh, I guess I could’ve hung out here channeling, to see how long it took you to open the damn door.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, I can watch the game at my place. I brought two pizzas and a twelve pack of beer—say goodbye.”

Michael grabbed his friend’s shirt and pulled him inside. “Get in here, just be quiet.”

“Quiet?” Jedidiah’s eyes became thoughtful. Michael moaned. Crap. Jed with a bit between his teeth was relentless. “What’s going on, Mike-man?”

Jed put the pizzas and beer on the coffee table.

“Maria’s here.” Michael nodded towards his closed bedroom door. “On my bed.”

“No way, the sister? You wore her out? I always suspected there was some history between the two of you. All that hostility, it was sexy, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and you don’t know what you know either. I didn’t wear her out, thank you. She walked in, said she needed to talk to me, then hit the bed face down, and she hasn’t moved in two hours.”

“Really!” Jed grabbed a beer and streaked like a freight train towards Michael’s bedroom.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Your bedroom just to get a look. I always wanted to meet the step-monster. I was imagining black hair, busy brows, and dragon breath.”

“Get away from there! You’ll wake her.”

“Hmm,” Jed stopped to give Michael a once over. “Wow, something’s going on. Since when did you start caring?”

“I—look she’s tired, even I can see that. I don’t kick puppies either.” Michael’s voice deepened in exasperation. “Where are you going?”

“To check on her. You said she hasn’t moved in two hours. What if she’s dead?”

Michael went to intercept his friend. “She’s not dead,” he said in a loud whisper as Jed opened the bedroom door.

Both men became silent, staring at the sleeping woman. Michael was wrong. Maria had moved. She had turned over and stretched out on the bed having kicked off the blanket, and her arm rested over her head. She wasn’t moving; her face was relaxed in sleep.

“Shit,” said Jed as Michael pulled him out of the room closing the door. “You didn’t mention she was so tiny. Or so beautiful.” He shook his head. “Man, Michael, what is wrong with you? Three years, you’ve been fighting with that little girl.”

“Don’t let her looks fool you. First, she’s no pushover. Second, she’s sneaky and conniving, and lastly, she has me now making every point in an argument in threes.”

“Now, I really want to meet her.”

“Don’t wake her.”

Jed went to sit down, finishing his beer and reaching for another one. “Mike, man, swear to me you’re not sleeping with her.”

“I am not sleeping with Maria. There, now will you leave it alone?”

“Good.” Jed took another drink of his beer. “Can I have her?”

“Jed.”

Jed laughed, sitting back as Michael opened the pizza box and turned on the game. “Seriously—can I have her?”

* * *

Michael and Jed were into the game, neither of them noticing the sound of the shower in the other room. They had eaten a pizza and a half, and were working on the twelve pack of beer.

Maria’s voice startled them both.

“Am I interrupting?”

Michael stood, as did Jed. Michael’s eyebrow rose. That was his shirt she was wearing. She noticed his gaze.

“Hope you don’t mind. I’ll return it.” Maria cleared her throat. “Um, Michael, how did I get here?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked her.

“No, I...,” Maria frowned, “I finished an autopsy on a little girl. We found her and her family early this morning. She was the only survivor, but she didn’t make it. She hit my table this afternoon, and after that, I don’t remember much.”

Michael walked around the sofa. “What do you remember?”

“Her name was Caroline, she was only four.”

Jed cleared his throat. “Was that the house invasion story from this morning on the west side?”

“Yeah.” Maria finally seemed to notice Michael’s friend. “I’m sorry. I’m Maria.”

“Jed. Jed Stuart.” Jed laughed when he saw Maria’s reaction to his very southern name. “No joke. That’s my name. I’m Michael’s best friend.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized he had any friends, much less a best one. How much is he paying you?”

“Funny,” said Michael, shaking his head as his friend laughed. “You sit down. I’ll get you something to eat, and you,” he pointed his finger at Jed, “do not encourage her.”

Maria gave the man a lingering look. “So, you’re really Michael’s friend.”

“All my life,” Jed said with a smile, loving the skeptical look she gave him. “I grew up next door to him and his dad. We were best friends in elementary, junior and high school, and then to add insult to it all, we went to the same University and were roommates.”

“Gay lovers?” Maria guessed.

“No. However, I always suspected Mike had a crush on me, seeing how much prettier I am. It was a curse for him to have to compete with me for women.”

Maria could see that as she took a seat on the arm of the sofa. Jed was a tall man like Michael, with a pleasant smile, and laughing eyes—the antithesis of dour Michael. His brown eyes were alive and devilish, distracting one from the obvious onset of male pattern baldness. Jed was a real handsome looking guy.

“So, Jed Stuart? Not Jeb, huh? That is a classical Deep South name.”

“Tell me about it, but I wore it well. It could’ve been worse. I could’ve been Jeb Stuart.” Maria giggled, appreciating his humor of his own name. “Michael is lucky. Michael is a normal name, albeit a religious one like mine, but Jedidiah, now that is just mean.”

“It means ‘Beloved of the Lord’, I wouldn’t complain. My real name is Lisa Marie,” Maria confessed. “My mom had a tragic addiction to Elvis.”

“That’s my point, one I made to Michael many times. What happened to good old simple names, old fashioned, plain and honest? My own daughter, Shannie, named by my ex-wife, is saddled with the formal name Shenandoah for life. Honestly! I stopped her from naming her after a fruit, a state, or a mental disposition.”

God please, not dementia. Maria could hear Michael in the kitchen. “I should leave.”

“So you really don’t remember coming here?” Jed asked curiously.

“It happens, but I must have had a reason.” Maria wiped a hand across her mouth. “It was a tough day, and I only had a few hours of sleep last night. I think I’m running on fumes.”

“Here,” Jed offered Maria the half empty pizza box. “Have some pizza.”

“Oh, meat lovers’ pizza! Extra pepperoni?” she asked hopefully.

“The best,” Jed said with a touch of religious fervor. Now here was a woman he could appreciate.

Maria agreed, taking a piece, but before she could shove it in her mouth Michael came back into the room stealing the pizza from her, and shoving a plate in her hand.

Maria stared at the strange yellow thing. “What is this?”

“An omelet. Real food.” Michael put the pizza back in the box.

“I—eggs? I hate eggs. I’ll take the pizza.”

Michael placed his body in front of the pizza box, staring at her.

“Oh man, c’mon! It has cheese in it, not that I hate cheese or anything, but cheese is basically nothing but a molding process, and the milk—do not make me get started on milk. It consists of secretions from a rudiment’s stomach. Secretions—that’s like pus.”

“Maria.”

Maria picked through the omelet. “Are those vegetables?”

“Mushrooms and cheese.”

“Mushrooms are a fungus.”

“Maria, eat the damn egg.”

Jed interrupted the fighting siblings. “Pizza is a major food group.”

Maria looked around Michael, flashing a brilliant smile at Jed. “Thank you.”

“Do not encourage her. She is a notorious junk food junkie.”

Maria snorted, “I don’t think you know me well enough to make that conclusion.”

“Maria.”

“Fine, I’ll eat it, but I’m not breathing through the bites.” Maria ate some of the egg, grimacing dramatically for effect.

“So why did you come over?” Michael asked, ignoring her antics.

“I—I think I needed to ask something of you—a favor.”

Well heck, so shoot him, he was utterly intrigued. Maria needed his help. That was an interesting concept. “Okay, so ask.”

Maria stopped chewing. “I had a terrible week, and to tell the truth, I don’t know how much more I can take. Every case seems to get worse. I mean, it can get rough at times, but lately, it’s borderline horrific, like Nightmare on Elm Street horrific. The baby on my slab today, it was beyond me.”

Jed listened, fascinated by an insight into a different world.

“The killer came to the door and literally killed the father in the doorway. Then he attacked the mother, slashing her to death, leaving her to bleed out in the hallway. We hoped the children were gone to a grandparent’s or a sleepover. No such luck. There was a young teenage son, and a small baby girl. The noise must have waked them, and they came out of their rooms to see what was happening. He stabbed the girl first, and then slashed, followed by the brother. It appears that the boy grabbed his sister and pushed her behind him, taking the brunt of the attack. Something interrupted the killer—the mother. She dragged herself down the hall towards the phone. She made a call to the emergency number. The killer finished her off.”

“How do you know?” Jed asked.

“There was a blood trail on the carpet.”

“Sorry I asked.”

Maria understood. She didn’t mention that the teenage boy dragged his wounded sister away, hiding themselves from the killer. They eluded their murderer, and his time was limited. He punished the mother by hacking her to pieces slinging her blood and body on the walls.

Michael was pale, having heard the reports earlier on the news. Maria had been in the middle of that case, and why he hadn’t wondered about that earlier surprised him. Of course she was involved. She was the Chief Medical Examiner.

“What did you need, Maria?”

Maria rubbed a confused hand across her head. “It’s so violent—so angry. He’s escalating, and it’s going to get worse. I can feel that. I can’t get a handle on this, Michael. I keep reworking the case.”

“Sexual predator?”

“No, nothing sexual here. It was all about power. Sexual predators are fairly rare creatures. They are invariably acting out some kind of strange, private fantasy, the details of their crisis are distinct—it tends to separate them from other predators. This predator was all about power and control. He killed because he could. It’s like Mom and Dad’s house. I know there’s a connection to Roland and Charles. They both died violently, and the killer thinks Charles left information for Brian. The police can only do so much, but I’m afraid it’s not going to be enough.”

He had the same thought. Maybe he should trust more, but it was his father and Mariah’s lives concerning him. “What do you suggest?”

“You have resources. I—can you find an independent investigator or bodyguard to watch them?”

Michael was as surprised as Jed, who sat up at that request. Michael understood his reaction. It was doubtful that anyone but himself and Maria felt so strongly about the danger that threatened their parents. No one could.

“They would never agree to have someone—a stranger spying on them.”

“I don’t care what it costs, Michael. I can…”

Michael waved off the offer. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, all of it.” Why hadn’t he thought of hiring someone to keep a close eye on his father and Mariah, at least until they had answers? Maybe because he didn’t think like Maria did or maybe because he didn’t really want to think of them being in real danger.

Michael gave Jed a penetrating look, and Jed nodded. Jed’s company specialized in security, and there was no one he would trust more.

“Thanks.” Maria put the half eaten omelet on the coffee table next to Michael. “I need to go. If I get home, I might not only get a long bath, but perhaps half a night of sleep before I get called into work.”

“How do you know you’re going to get called in?” Michael asked, surprised by her cynical view. Two months ago, he would’ve sworn on a Bible that Maria was nothing if not optimistic and easy going.

“It happens all the time lately. Like I said...he’s escalating.” Maria got up and stretched, searching for her jacket. It was on a chair next to the door. “Thanks for the food and the bed. I really don’t know how I made it here.”

“Here,” Jed said handing Maria the remaining pizza. “Take the pizza. We were finished.”

“Hmm.” Maria looked Michael’s friend over, her concentrated gaze penetrating—enough to make Jed gulp.

“It was nice meeting you, Jed.” A mischievous dimple creased Maria’s cheek as she leaned down and kissed Jed on the mouth passionately. “Thanks for the pizza,” she said huskily. Waving, she was out the door before either man could comment.

Jed gasped for breath. “Wow. I think I’m in love.”

“Yeah, you thought you were in love at sixteen too, and look where it got you, divorced, a father at seventeen, and a serious problem with your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

Michael laughed. “Maria is a complicated woman. I think you’d be better off staying away from her.”

“I thought you said she was a flake—my kind of gal.”

“I changed my mind. Maria lies. She’s got some strong seriousness beneath that face she puts on. Too serious for you, mi amigo. The woman is a man-eater.”

Jed sighed dramatically. “I know. I somehow found her incredibly sexy when she was talking about her job and her worry over the parents. I don’t meet women that passionate about anything. Her stare—I could feel it straight to my…”

“Save it! I’m telling you, stay away from Maria.”

Jed gave his friend a knowing look, the sparkle in his eye taking on a speculative bent. “You sound worried. I could use a different class of woman from my usual.”

“Well if you stopped trolling the parks for sunbathing jailbait, you might graduate to a woman that isn’t only four to five years older than your own daughter.”

“Seriously, can I have her?”

“She has a large buff detective boyfriend.”

“Maybe they’re through. Maybe she’ll think I’m cute. Did you see how she kissed me? Damn near took my tongue with her. I’m definitely in love.”

Michael tossed a cushion at his friend. “Hey! You’re my friend. That means you have to be on my side. Plus, the boyfriend, he carries a gun.”

“Hmm,” Jed was still staring at the closed door. “Does this Supercop know you slept with his girl?”

Michael glanced at his friend, and then swore, “Aw, shit,” as he rubbed his face.

Nick’s patience was at an end. Walking out of the interrogation room, he went into the adjacent one and watched the young man undergoing the same treatment with his partner.

Nick sighed tiredly before accepting a cup of coffee from his Captain. “I don’t know, Sir. He’s the sixteenth person we interviewed, and he’s off—way off.”

Captain Nathan Gentry nodded, agreeing with Nick’s assessment. The young man in the other room, Charles Barrows’ old roommate, was hiding something.

“He does act squirrelly. All the answering questions with a question, it’s pretty damn annoying.”

Nick snorted, sipping the coffee. “Makes me want to jump across the table and slap him silly.”

“Yeah well, don’t do that. You know all the interrogation rooms have monitors. IA is always looking for abusers.”

Nick shot his Captain a sore look. “That’s why I left Deuce in there. He’s far more tolerant than I am.”

Nick peered at his partner, “Huh? He might be.” Deuce rubbed his lightly bearded face in weariness. It was a long week, and it had started last week, refusing to stop.

“I don’t know, Cap. The man, he’s got something to hide, and Charles’ name does it. I would blame the caffeine, but he’s actively evasive, and I swear Deuce is causing him to develop a tick.”

“I’d like to search his apartment. He used to be Charles’ roommate, and he was also one of Roland’s graduate students and an intern. Six months ago, he up and quit the position. Three weeks ago, he reapplied.”

“A lot of people, especially the students, quit after Roland was killed, Nick. Would you want to work the graveyard in the morgue?”

“That’s a point. We pulled him in because his prints were at Charles’ parents’ house, on Charles’ computer. I’ve got a short list of six people, including an ex-girlfriend, but this guy is setting off some alarms.”

“I’ll make the call. You’ll have your search warrant.” Nathan cleared his throat. “Who are the EU investigators?”

“I read the report, but I want her clear of this investigation, Nick. Keep her interaction to a minimum. Whatever’s going on, it touches the Medical Examiner’s office, and I don’t want to find another Chief Medical Examiner slaughtered.”

Nick stopped, searching his clothes for a cigarette. “What? What are you saying?”

“Brian DeLuca called me. He’s not convinced that that search of his house was all about the information Barrows was supposed to have left him. I know Maria shrugged off the call to her that night as an accident, but Brian isn’t so easily convinced.”

“Maybe, but Brian’s concerned. Maria told him that it felt personal to her, that the killer’s aware of her actions.”

“He’s watching her, and she thinks he's stalking her?” Dammit, she hadn’t mentioned a word to him.

“No. That’s what’s got Brian spooked. He said Maria said the killer didn’t have to watch her—he already knows what she’ll do before she does it.”

Nick swore, searching for his mythical smoke with fervor. Why the hell did he think he could quit smoking? Addiction was his downfall. He couldn’t even quit Maria, no matter how hard she tried to convince him.

“I hope not, Nick. Maria’s one of the best investigators I’ve seen in years. She’s a strange bird though, much as Brian Guerin was. I’ve never seen anyone who could pick up a smudge and just know it was connected.”

“She picked up a piece of a bumper and tied it to Barrows. She’s wasted in the Medical Examiner’s office.”

Did he have an agenda? Sure he did. After Maria transferred to the ME Office, she changed. Maybe that wasn’t what wrecked their relationship, but it sure added to the strain. Whatever was happening inside her was what convinced her that they wouldn’t work.

“I don’t know, Nick. Roland was one of the best, and he trained her. She sees things on the victim, things that would go unnoticed. Her attention to detail is undeniable, unlike Roland who slowed down with age, she’s fast, efficient, and her attention is all on the victim.”

He didn’t want to hear this. His ideal situation would be Maria going back to the Evidence Unit. “Did you put a tail on Maria?”

Nathan passed Nick a cigarette. “I can’t. I don’t have the manpower, but I have her watched at work, in the parking garage, and a unit follows her home. That’s the best I can offer.”

Nick stared at the young man, James Talbot. They were looking for a killer, one that was close to a cop killer. Roland Garza wasn’t a police officer, but he was as close as he could be without going to the Academy.

“I know you will, but if you want to help, get this case solved.” Nathan left to get the search warrant.

Solve the case. That was the only mantra Nick knew. The case had been open since Roland died, and whatever was happening hadn’t stopped six months ago. Charles Barrows was proof of that, and Nick was afraid that it wasn’t over.

They left James Talbot in interrogation as they took the investigating team to search his apartment. When they presented James with the search warrant, he began to sweat.

It did take long for Jenny and Lee to find out why. They entered interrogation and Jenny took a seat next to Nick.

“Mr. Talbot, is there a statement you would like to make?” Nick offered after introducing Jenny.

“The problem we had with your original interview, Mr. Talbot was the discrepancy between your answers and the evidence,” said Jenny. “We know you had been at Charles Barrows’ parents’ home. Your fingerprints were everywhere, and since you were an intern for the Medical Examiner’s Office, your prints were on file.”

“Yes. Why don’t you tell us again when the last time was that you saw Charles?” Nick smiled kindly, but there was nothing nice in his eyes.

“I saw him about three days before he died. I went over to the house to check up on him. He had been kind of strange since Professor Garza died.” The young man was sweating.

“Mr. Talbot,” Jenny began, “I processed the Barrows’ home, Charles’s apartment, and your apartment. Evidence doesn’t lie, but obviously you do.”

James moved uncomfortably under the direct scrutiny from Jenny’s gaze. Nick swallowed a smile. Jenny was a hard woman to overlook. She was tall and thin with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Her soft southern accent and delicate features belied the firmness in her resolve. Many might misjudge her at first glance, and when she had been Maria’s partner, they had been unbeatable. Now she was the lead investigator, and much to her husband’s dismay, she was flourishing with the new position despite the new long hours away from home.

“The evidence shows that you were in the Barrows’ home after Charles died. Strangely enough, in your apartment we found some of Charles Barrows’ personal records, including the rough draft of his thesis.”

“I—it wasn’t my idea.” James glanced between Jenny and Nick. “I—me and Charles, we sort of got into a fight a while ago, right after his parents died. They died in a house fire at their vacation home. We shared an apartment, and he moved out, moving to his parent’s home. The man stiffed me for his part of the rent.”

“Sure, I could’ve, but Charles, I think he was going to move back in since he was trying to sell the house. He had moved into their house to take care of legal things, papers, and stuff—you know, get the place ready to sell. Instead of moving back in with me, he got his own apartment.”

James scratched his neck nervously. “We sort of had a misunderstanding. A few weeks after his parents died, he sort of walked in on me and his girlfriend, Alicia.” James saw their reaction. “Hey, it wasn’t like it seemed.”

James made a face at Nick. “Man, you know how it is. Charles, he was distracted, not paying much attention to Alicia, and she sort of came to me for comfort.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “So you bopped your best friend’s girl, then got upset when he cut both of you loose, and it was his fault for stiffing you for the rent?”

“Okay, so why did you enter Charles’ home after he died? Why do you have his thesis and papers?”

“It was Alicia’s idea. We heard he died, and she thought maybe I could recoup my rent, so we…”

“We?” Nick glanced at Jenny who nodded. Yeah, they had the girlfriend’s fingerprints as well.

“Alicia came with me. When we found the thesis, she suggested that Charles’ work was going to be lost, so I thought…”

Nick couldn’t believe this kid. “I don’t know, stealing from the dead? What was Charles working on?”

“Man, I don’t know. The thesis I found was pretty much the same one he had been working on before his parents died. He was always Professor Garza’s pet, you know. Anyway, he wouldn’t tell me what the Professor had him working on. He threw me out of his home.”

Jenny, Lee, Deuce, and Nick were drinking coffee. They were discussing their notes before sending information on to the prosecutor’s office.

“We’ll work the evidence again,” Lee assured Deuce, “but it will be what it is.”

“The girl, Alicia, I can see her orchestrating the car accident for Charles. There’s something mean in her eyes.” Jenny observed as she dumped sugar in her coffee.

“What is it with women?” Nick asked his partner and Lee. “I swear they’re immediately willing to blame other women, and give the male a pass.”

“The worst kind of sexism.” Deuce took the sugar from Jenny. “Women are the harshest critics of other women. Now men...men expect to be ignorant and stupid—needing a woman to nurture them so they ignore their personality flaws and give them a pass, but with other women? A woman could do the same thing as a man, or less—maybe wear the wrong color shoes, and they’re ready to stone her.” Deuce snorted. “There is no mercy.”

Jenny shoved Deuce aside. “That’s because we understand the nature of the beast, and we know what we’re capable of. What separates us is that we know what we can do, but we choose to remain civilized. That woman, she robbed her ex-boyfriend, a man that dumped her because she slept with his best friend.”

“Obviously. It’s always the victim’s fault.” Jenny sipped her coffee. “You passing this on?”

“We hold them for forty-eight hours. The prosecutor’s office can decide the charges or give them a pass as completely reprehensible humans.”

Lee yawned, looking at his watch. His wife had already left three messages. “I would love to find something to tie those two to Charles’s death, but not tonight. It’s after midnight . If I don’t get home, my wife will file for divorce.”

Jenny shrugged. “I could sleep. Rick is on duty at the fire station, so I guess I’ll go home and clean the house.”

“Yeah, guess that’s the life for us single people.” Nick gave the two investigators a smile. “Unless you two aren’t so married you couldn’t stop for a beer.”

Jenny smiled. “Like I said, the husband is on duty. Beer or clean the house? Gee. Guess beer wins.”

“They’re trying to get pregnant,” Jenny explained. “When his beeper starts going off, I swear he has a salivating reaction.”

“Aw,” said Deuce laughing. “She’s got him trained. I seriously need to find a wife.”

Michael hit his pillow and balled it up under his head. Sighing, he tried to sleep. Relaxing his form, he closed his eyes with his arm stretched above his head. Breathing deeply, he cleared his mind.

A few moments passed before he sighed again, and turned his head to look at the clock. The digital display remained constant as the minutes ticked down slowly. Michael went back to staring at the ceiling.

Checking the clock again, he swore under his breath. Two minutes, how could only two minutes pass?

Sitting up on the side of the bed, he rubbed his neck. Maybe he should’ve convinced Jed to stay longer, or called someone for company.

Standing, he walked away from the bed, and somehow he couldn’t imagine anyone sharing it with him, not after having Maria sleep there.

Maria. Damn her, she was polluting his mind with thoughts of her and every damn strange nuance involving her.

Michael went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Stepping in, he let the hot water lull his tired muscles into relaxing. Placing his hands on the tile, he bent his head, allowing the water to hit him to the back of the neck as he tried to relax his shoulders.

Standing there for a moment, his mind wandered, until he lifted his head staring forward, ignoring the water running down his face. Turning off the water, he was out of the shower and toweling off on his way to find clothes.

Chapter Seventeen

Michael sat on the buzzer for a full minute. He had knocked, then he rang the doorbell, and finally, he leaned on it. Staring up at the three story house enclosed with a wrought iron fence with an unruly front garden and large front porch created by columns, he could surprisingly see Maria as living there.

Michael turned when the door opened. Frowning, he stared at the older man in a nappy old bathrobe wearing a pilot’s hat.

“I’m sorry; I must have the wrong house.”

“You’re Michael.” Michael lifted a brow, not at the man knowing his name, but at the surprisingly high squeaky voice coming out of the large mountain of a man.

“Yes.”

“Then you better come in. The neighbors like to stare.”

“Imagine that.” Michael looked over his shoulder, swearing that the curtain in a window of a house across the street moved.

“You’ll be wanting Maria. I think she’s sleeping in the blue room. I added a swirl of yellow as an accent. Yellow is so soothing. It should help her sleep better.”

The large man turned sideways to allow Michael around his large belly. The man looked like a mountain man with a huge beard, a huge belly, and large beady eyes that were a startling blue.

“Upstairs on the second floor, down the hallway on the right to the very large doors at the end. It’s a main suite.”

“The blue room?”

“Right. Well go on with you, but try to be quiet. Some people are working.”

Michael didn’t know what to say, so he walked up the stairs, his eyes moving over the house. It was—different. There were hanging sheets of plastic with the main foyer opened into a huge room. The room had once been the bar of a saloon with a large pool table, a large bar that covered the side of the room. Maria had removed the tables and created a large living room and the far end where there had once been a stage had been converted into a wall to wall shelved library loaded with books, the area with comfy reading chairs—a library sitting room with a desk. The room was beautifully renovated, except for a far area and wall that was covered in large plastic sheeting.

Michael ran his hand up the banister, appreciating the beautiful wood as he ascended the stairs. The stairs ran into the foyer, which had interesting tile from Mexico or regions further south. The entire house, or what he could see of it, was wooded, not only the floors, but the plasterboards and moldings. The house’s detail was incredible, but most of it was rotting, dirty, or just missing. It needed work.

Michael didn’t bother to knock. He entered the room, and stopped in his tracks when he was fully though the doorway.

The rest of the house was dilapidated, but not this room. The blue room was a startling room of luminous azure, swirled in a light mixture of colors, giving the walls a look of an early morning summer sky, the walls partially covered in a light patterned paper, and one wall had a full mural. All the woodwork was beautifully preserved, and the floor was a shiny high glossed beveled wood floor, waxed and covered in a large Oriental rug. The large bed held the sleeping beauty, but beauty was obviously not sleeping peacefully.

The light provided by the wall sconce threw a soft glow on Maria. She had kicked off her bedding, and even as he stood there, she tossed uneasily in her sleep, the silk slip she slept in rising high on her thigh. Her brows, pulled together in a frown, showed her inner disturbance as she mumbled in her sleep.

Going to the bed, Michael tried to gently wake her.

“Maria.”

She turned over, ignoring him.

Michael added a shake, saying her name again. He smiled slightly when she talked to him in her sleep, telling him to shower first and make coffee.

“Maria, wake up. It’s Michael, not some dude you picked up.”

“Michael?” she said groggily, turning over to peer at him. “I must have died and gone to hell. I knew I shouldn’t have skipped confession last week. God is punishing me.” She quickly crossed herself before burying her head in a pillow to go back to sleep.

“Maria…”

“Go away, demon Michael. I cast you out. Out!”

“Stop it. I need to talk to you.”

Sighing, Maria turned over again. “Is it morning yet?”

“Nope.”

“Is it later than yesterday when I last saw you? Tell me I slept an entire week.”

“Sorry. I saw you about five hours ago. It’s the same day.”

“Piss!” Maria rolled out the other side of the bed grabbing a silk robe that was literally see-thru.

Michael watched with interest. What was the point exactly? Women’s fashion would forever be a mystery to him. Most of the time, women’s garments appeared to be futile—thank God.

“Is this some type of revenge?”

“Nope.” Michael followed Maria into her bathroom, but stopped, stunned at the door. The bathroom—well damn. Michael rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Envy—this was pure unadulterated envy. The bathroom was incredible, from the tile work to the huge sunken bath, the space larger than his bedroom.

Maria put a hand on his chest pushing him out of the door. “Sorry, I don’t know you well enough to let you follow me in here.”

“How well would you have to know me?”

“Better than knowing you have a cute little birthmark on your ass. Get.”

The door slammed in his face, but Michael didn’t let it deter him. The bedroom was worth another glance. Going to her bed, he pushed the bedding back into place to lie on the bed and wait for her.

Staring at the ceiling, he laughed. Damn. He was staring back at himself! Maria had a mirror on her ceiling; actually, her entire ceiling was a mirrored tile, with a smoky black look to it. It was highly glossed, and he could see himself easily. Kinky.

“You have a mirror on your ceiling.”

“Correction,” said Maria coming out of the bathroom, her face freshly washed with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, “my ceiling is a highly glossed piece of obsidian. It reflects like a mirror. Gussie says it will give me good dreams—highly artistic and fanciful.”

“Gussie? Is that the large mountain man in a moth-eaten robe?”

“Yep. He wears the robe all the time. Usually he walks around with a toothbrush in his mouth. It helps him think.”

Michael propped himself up on his elbows. “You live with a man named Gussie.”

“Technically, no. Gussie is more of a—um, maybe squatter is a better word.”

“You have a squatter.”

“Sure. He had a fight with his Magnolia a year ago, when I bought the house, and I told him he could use the attic as his studio. He’s been here ever since.”

Of course he has. Michael rubbed his face, his chagrin evident. Only Maria would have a squatter in an old home that used to service the sexual needs of the community.

“Gussie just finished the bathroom. I thought it would take another month or two, but he really got inspired.”

“He’s your renovator.”

“Actually, he’s an artist—does his painting upstairs in the attic. Amazing how he gutted the entire attic, put in skylights. Really, it is so impressive!”

“Uh-huh.” She was definitely a different type of person. He had a hard time letting the maid service come in twice a week to service his apartment, and she was living with a huge unwashed mountain of a man that was a renovating artist.

“Let me guess, Gussie is a struggling artist.”

“Oh no. Gussie doesn’t struggle over anything except Magnolia! She breaks his heart. Nope, Gussie is great. His father was heavy into construction, and Gussie worked for his father through his young years before finally settling down to art.”

Maria sat on her bed, and then crawled to the top near Michael, pushing him over so she could actually lie on a pillow. Making room for her, Michael stared at the room. It was outrageously magnificent.

“He did a good job in here. I love the mural.”

“It’s one of his better ones. I couldn’t believe he covered the entire bathroom in a mural. When you take a bath, it’s like bathing in an English garden, with the terracotta tile, excellent backdrop. Gussie took off to Mexico in a beat-up pickup truck held together by bailing wire. He went to refuse piles, old haciendas, and torn down public buildings and he scavenged for the tiles. They actually paid him to haul them away.”

“You have plastic sheeting hanging in your living room downstairs.”

“Another mural. I haven’t seen it. Gussie hates anyone to see his work before it’s complete. I think he walks past rooms, gets inspired, and the next thing I know, he’s fixing a wall in a room as a platform for a mural, or he found wallpaper he loves, or tile, slate stone, obsidian—really, it’s been endless.”

It was hard to admit, but he loved this house. It was brilliant in its own way. From what he saw of it, it already breathed.

“I've lived in my apartment for five years. If I were to move, they would come in, whitewash the walls, put in new carpet, maybe new appliances, and no one would ever know I lived there.”

Maria turned on her side to glance at him. “Does that bother you?”

“Maybe. When I was young, my Dad sold the house he lived in with my mom. I guess it took them forever to find it. They were married five years before I was born. The house meant something to them—a future. They planned, built, and decorated the nursery when my mom got pregnant. A year after she died, my dad sold the house. He couldn’t live there anymore, not when every wall, every room, had a part of my Mom in it.”

Maria cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said huskily.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I never understood what he meant about a place taking on the aura of a person. The houses we lived in when I was growing up, they were just houses, the longest one was an old cottage next to Jed’s family. He sold it the year I went to college.”

“He lives in a house now.”

“One he picked out with your Mom. That’s how I knew it was the real thing for him. He started building a home again.”

Maria was quiet. Michael thought she had fallen asleep, but her voice woke him from the lull of sleep that was pulling on his tired body. “Did that bother you? I mean seeing your Dad build a dream with a woman that wasn’t your mother?”

Well how did he explain it? There were words, but most of it was confused in feelings. There was the truth, and then there was the Truth. One was indescribable.

“No. It was a relief.” Michael turned to look at Maria. “For the first time in twenty-eight years, he started living again—all those other ye