"Body of Evidence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pickart Joan Elliott, Davis Justine, Merritt Jackie)

Chapter 2

O ne of the jobs of a criminalist was to reconstruct the crime under investigation. Sketches of the murder scene, photographs and physical evidence all came into play. Maggie thought about the process while analyzing and testing the samples of everything from carpet fibers to fingernail scrapings that she had taken from Franklin Gardner’s study. As always, she was careful to keep very close tabs on even the smallest item, as it just might prove invaluable in bringing a killer to justice.

Around two that afternoon the growling of Maggie’s stomach was a strong reminder that she hadn’t eaten since last night. But because she wanted to finish her tests so she could log the evidence before leaving the premises, she settled for an energy bar from a vending machine. It helped, and by seven that evening she had completed everything that could be completed in one day, and then carried it all to the evidence room.

“Each bag is tagged,” she told the person in charge, even though nothing that wasn’t tagged could be logged in. “I’ll be picking up several of the bags during the next few days for further testing.” Maggie was mostly referring to Franklin Gardner’s collection of ice picks. They were suspiciously lacking in fingerprints-possibly wiped clean by Franklin ’s attacker-and two had trace amounts of blood. She needed more time on them.

She was walking out to her car when it dawned on her that Josh Benton hadn’t called. Feeling slighted personally was one thing, but professionally? No way, she thought. Her work today had accomplished a great deal, and she fully intended on staying right in the middle of this investigation. Instead of going home, she drove to the Detective Bureau, parked her car and walked in. Sometimes the place was pure bedlam. This evening, it was merely busy.

Maggie collected her written messages on her way past the duty officer, gave them a quick look and saw nothing that couldn’t wait, then proceeded to the desk she had been assigned two months ago. It was in a room crammed with file cabinets and about twenty other desks. The only items on hers were a telephone and a silent, blank-faced computer.

Passing up her desk, Maggie went in search of Detective Benton. His desk, she had discovered, was in a different room, one that was divided into tiny cubicles. It wasn’t the Ritz, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was something Maggie aspired to herself one day. It wouldn’t happen for years, she knew, but it gave her pleasure to think of that far-off event.

The door of Josh’s private space was open. Maggie peered in and saw Josh talking on the phone. He saw her, as well, and waved her in. She chose a chair and waited for him to finish.

He finally did, and while putting down the phone he asked her, “How’d it go at the lab?”

“Routinely,” she replied. She laid some papers on his desk. “Reports of my preliminary exam of the victim in situ. I haven’t finished with the ice picks, but there are no prints on them, not even a smudge. Wiped clean would be my guess, but two of them show trace amounts of blood. Type O-positive on one, animal blood on the other. Another guess is that that one was used to pry frozen steaks apart, or some kind of meat. If it becomes important, I can, of course, run further tests and identify the specie of animal. As for the other, do we know Franklin Gardner’s blood type?”

“O-positive,” Josh said calmly.

Maggie’s gaze locked with Josh’s. “Then that ice pick could be the murder weapon.”

“Could be,” Josh concurred. “On first look, the M.E. agreed that cause of death could be the head wound, the chest wounds or both, which we already surmised. But we won’t know anything for sure until we get his autopsy report, which he hasn’t yet faxed over. I asked for a rush job, but you know how that goes.”

“Did you mention the media interest in the case?”

“Pulled every string I could. But our most recent murder victim isn’t the only one in Chicago whose name makes the general population genuflect,” Josh said dryly. “Anyhow, the report could come in anytime.”

“How about fingerprint analysis of the apartment? Those guys lifted dozens of specimens from doorways, tables, the bar and on and on. Do we have anything in writing from that direction yet?”

“No. They said they would have some results by tomorrow. I was told that two captains drove out to the Gardner mansion to inform Franklin ’s mother of his death.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Captains? I thought you would go, so you could see her reaction. Were you told how she took the news?”

“Are you thinking that Franklin ’s mother might have something to do with his premature demise?”

“Don’t look so skeptical. Anything’s possible. Everyone Franklin knew is a suspect until we know otherwise. There was no sign of forced entry into either the building, the private elevator or the penthouse. Franklin admitted his killer himself, so it had to be someone he knew…or hoped to know. What about his love life? Did he have a girlfriend…or more than one? Maybe the reason he was killed twice, as you so delicately put it earlier today, was because it was a crime of passion. You know, where the killer is so emotionally wound up that he or she doesn’t know when to quit.”

“You have a good imagination.”

“Can’t be an investigative cop without one.”

“It helps…but it can also hinder. We do our best work with provable facts.”

“When they’re available, yes, but when they’re not we had better be able to connect the dots…or the circumstantial evidence…all on our own. How about the housekeeper? Did anyone interrogate her yet, and is she being permitted to stay at the apartment? Nothing should be disturbed…or cleaned…in that place.”

“Really?” Josh drawled. “Gosh, I didn’t know that.”

Maggie’s face reddened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to patronize. But what did you do with Miriam Hobart?”

“Threw her into the deepest, darkest dungeon in Chicago. What else would I do with the housekeeper of a murder victim?”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“You’re way too serious, Maggie. Lighten up.”

Maggie got to her feet. “I don’t think it’s possible to be ‘too serious’ about a homicide. I’m going home.”

Josh rose. “How about us eating dinner together first?”

Maggie’s pulse quickened, although the way she looked couldn’t possibly be sparking any foolish ideas in Josh Benton’s head. She’d gotten up in the middle of last night and come to work without a speck of makeup on her face and barely a hairdo. Even so, she looked worse now than she had then, because the wear and tear of the day had to show on her face.

“Sorry, but if you’re through with me, I’d like to go home.”

“I’m not through with you, Maggie,” Josh said quietly. “Don’t even think it.”

His tone of voice threw Maggie much more than the words he’d said. Odder still was the strange look on his face, as though he hadn’t meant to sound like the big bad hunter after the little red fox. But surprised or not, they both knew exactly how he had sounded, and Maggie narrowed her eyes at him while he proceeded to put on a tough, almost belligerent expression. It was, Maggie decided, an I-dare-you-to-make-something-out-of-it expression. A cop’s expression, distant and challenging.

She was too tired to take on another challenge today, not even a personal one that she would have loved to pursue at various times during the past ten years.

Deciding to ignore the sexual innuendo she’d just heard in his voice-for the time being, at least-she spoke rather coolly. “If there’s anything else we should discuss this evening, I will, of course, sit down again. If not…?”

Josh wondered what in hell had come over him. This was Maggie, Tim’s kid sister.

“Yeah, go on home. There’s nothing more we have to do tonight. Unless you’re handling other cases that need attention.”

“I have several in process, but I’m up to speed on them. They’re not nearly as urgent as the Gardner homicide, anyway. Well, if that’s it for the day, I’ll say good-night.”

“Oh, there is one thing. Have you worked with Colin Waters?”

Maggie had started to leave, but she turned at the door, wearily leaned her shoulder against the frame and shook her head. “No, but I know who he is. Why?”

“I’ve brought him in on the case. Orders from the powers-that-be are to get this one done fast. Colin is one of the best investigators we have. I talked to him earlier today, and he and his partner, Darien Wilson, are already working on it. Just thought you should know the latest. I’m sure they’ll be glad to read your prelim report.”

“Fine. Do you want me to check in here in the morning, or should I go directly to the lab?”

“Check in here first. Whether I’m here or not, take a look at the Gardner file, just in case some new report has come in.”

“I should be adding several more reports to the file tomorrow. Okay, is that it?”

“That’s it. See you tomorrow.”

“If you’re here,” Maggie reminded him.

Without another word, Maggie left Josh’s office.

With Maggie gone, Josh let himself dwell on her. Something about her had gotten under his skin. True, he’d been without female companionship for a while, a good six months, actually, since he and Tasha, a model he had dated for over a year, had called it quits. But he hadn’t noticed any unusual suffering because of a lack of regular sex. In fact, he realized with a frown that he really hadn’t been thinking of sex at all since Tasha. And it wasn’t because attractive women were scarce. He simply hadn’t wanted any sort of relationship with a woman. With a wry twist of his lips, Josh wondered if he was getting old.

But he was thinking of relationships now, wasn’t he? All because of seeing Maggie Sutter again, who should represent nothing beyond some fine old memories. Ten years ago he and Tim Sutter had been good friends, and often when Josh had dropped in on Tim, there would be Maggie, cute as any teenage girl could ever be, sassy, giggly and looking at him with her gorgeous violet-blue eyes.

She didn’t look at him in the same way now, Josh thought with a bit of a wince. In fact, if there was any expression at all in her eyes when she looked at him, it was cool disdain. Was that because he hadn’t shown recognition during the accidental meeting that she claimed had occurred between them? He’d been startled as hell to see her as a cop and on duty smack-dab in the middle of his arena, to be exact, and he still wasn’t sure he liked it, particularly since she was making him think some pretty off-the-wall thoughts. And her being Tim’s sister somehow made her seem to be off-limits.

Josh had lost track of Tim, but Tim had done the same with him. They lived different lives, Tim in California with his computers, his wife and kids, and he, Josh, sticking close to home, never even considering marriage or leaving Chicago, working hard and advancing in the police department. In truth, he and Tim couldn’t be more different from each other, they always had been, but still, during their twenties, they had hit it off.

Josh sighed quietly. If Tim had stayed in the Chicago area, they’d probably still be friends. In the next heartbeat another thought, a question, gave Josh a start. What about Tim and Maggie’s mother? Josh remembered Lottie Sutter almost as well as he did her kids. Was Lottie alive and thriving? He hoped she was. They used to have some really good discussions.

He sat there for another ten minutes thinking about the Sutter family, then, rather abruptly, the long day got the better of him and he realized that he was almost too tired to get out of his chair and go home. But if he didn’t do it soon he would probably fall asleep right where he sat.

He forced himself to his feet-for the last time that day, he hoped.

Maggie slept like the dead that night. Her alarm clock jarred her awake at 6:00 a.m., and she shoved aside the covers and walked to the shower with her eyes only half-open. The shower finished what the buzzing of the clock’s alarm had started-got her brain and body functioning on normal. She turned on the TV in her bedroom to catch the weather report and made a face when she heard it. “High today of thirty-five degrees and snow flurries by late afternoon. Current temperature is twenty-six degrees.”

“Great,” Maggie muttered, wishing her life away by wishing for spring and some decent weather. Almost every winter was the same. By March she was so ready for sunshine and warmth that she fantasized herself living in a southern state, where the sun shone brightly nearly every day of the year. She could always find a job in law enforcement, couldn’t she? With her education and training? Of course she could.

The television program went from the weather report to local news stories. Maggie only partially listened until she heard, “Franklin Gardner, international businessman and lifelong resident of Chicago, was found dead in his penthouse apartment early yesterday morning. Police are investigating his death as a possible homicide.”

The “possible homicide” comment surprised Maggie, because had Franklin Gardner’s entire family been notified already? Occasionally the cart got out before the horse in breaking newscasts, but surely Benton was controlling all information passed to the media.

Maggie told herself to stay out of that part of the investigation. Josh hadn’t gotten where he was in the department by talking out of turn. He knew the rules, probably better than she did.

This morning Maggie put on a little makeup and didn’t even try to kid herself that it wasn’t because of Josh Benton. Dressed in charcoal, almost-black wool slacks and turtleneck sweater, she bundled herself into her heavy outside jacket, scarf and gloves and left her apartment.

Entering the garage was like bucking a wave of Arctic air. Her breath fogged in front of her face and she thought about how great it would be if the garage were heated. Of course, when she found this apartment, she’d been thrilled it had a parking garage and she could still afford the rent!

Mumbling to herself that living through scorching Arizona summers was probably just as bad as freezing Illinois temperatures in March, Maggie hurried to her car, unlocked it and got in.

She inserted the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened. Startled, she did it again and again. Nothing happened. Her car was dead. Groaning, she put her head on the steering wheel.

But it was too cold to sit there and feel sorry for herself for long. Raising her head, she got out her cell phone and the card Josh had given her yesterday. She dialed his cell number. He answered on the second ring with a gruff-sounding “Detective Benton.”

“This is Maggie. My car is dead. I’m going to call a mechanic, and there’s no telling how long that will take. Obviously I’m going to be coming in late. Thought you should know.”

“Where do you live?”

“Pardon?”

“Give me your address. Maybe it’s just your battery. If it is, I’ll give you a jump.”

“You’re going to fix my car?”

“Don’t sound so doubtful. I know a few things about cars, and I’ve got a set of jumper cables. Unless you’d rather call that expensive mechanic than let me take a look at it.”

“Um, no…no, of course not.” Maggie reluctantly recited her address. “But I hate imposing on your time.”

“If I felt it was an imposition, I wouldn’t have offered to help out.”

“Well…all right. It’s freezing in this garage so I’ll be waiting in my apartment. Just ring my bell.”

Josh cleared his throat and squelched an impulse to tell her that he’d love to ring her bell. In fact, she just might love having her bell rung by him.

“I should be there in twenty minutes,” he stated, without innuendo.

“Um…thank you.” Maggie hit the button to break the call and stuffed the phone back into her bag. She tried the ignition again, got no response at all from the wayward engine, then shook her head disgustedly and got out. She locked the car and headed for the elevator, cursing under her breath.

Damn it, why hadn’t he just let her call for a mechanic and be done with it? Or better still, when he’d made his intrusive offer of assistance, why hadn’t she thought fast, refused with thanks, and told him she had already called for a mechanic?

Inside her apartment she yanked off her gloves and jacket and then ran around like a wild woman, frantically picking up things, such as the slippers she’d left by the sofa several nights back, and the Sunday newspapers that were still strewn across her little kitchen table three days later. She grabbed a stack of junk mail that she’d been intending to toss for days and dropped it in the trash can, and put the dirty dishes stacked in the sink into the apartment-size dishwasher she’d been almost as glad to see as the garage when she’d rented the place.

She suddenly needed coffee, and she put on a pot to brew. Hurrying to her bedroom, she made the bed and then ran into the bathroom to straighten things up in there, just in case Josh should ask to use it. She was horribly nervous and couldn’t seem to calm her racing pulse, however many times she reminded herself that she had outgrown Josh Benton years and years ago.

Of course, if that was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, would she be nervous at all?

Maggie was on her second cup of coffee when the building’s front door buzzer went off. She set her cup on the counter, went to her apartment’s front door and pushed a button. “Yes?”

“It’s me. Buzz me in.”

Maggie complied and then opened the door to watch for Josh to step out of the elevator down the hall. As usual, it seemed an eternity for the hydraulic lift to make its snail-like way from the first floor to the fourth, but finally Maggie heard it grind to a shuddering stop. The doors slowly opened and Josh began walking toward her.

“I should have taken the stairs. It would’ve been faster.”

“Which is what I usually do. The only time I use the elevator is when I’m loaded down with groceries, or something else. Come on in.”

Josh followed her in. “This building has a garage in the basement?”

“Yes. I’ll get my jacket.”

“Not so fast. Do I smell fresh coffee?”

“Uh…yes. Would you like some?”

“Sure would. I was going to stop at a coffeehouse, but then you called and I figured I’d better get over here right away.”

Maggie led him to the kitchen and proceeded to fill a mug for him. “That’s what I do on most mornings, stop somewhere for a large coffee to go.” She handed the mug to Josh who took it and then set it on the table.

“I’m going to take my jacket off, sit down and enjoy this, if you don’t mind. The first cup of the day always tastes best to me. Come and join me at the table.”

“In a minute. You go ahead and sit down. And I don’t mind if you enjoy your first cup of the day,” she murmured, a lie if she’d ever told one. She minded everything that was happening, minded him being there at all, minded that he’d had the nerve to ask for coffee and that he’d been nice enough to offer to jump her car-if that was all it needed. But mostly she minded his astonishing good looks, which seemed a hundred times more striking this morning than they had yesterday. Her stupid stomach was doing somersaults just from looking at him.

And he seemed so at home! Not at all uncomfortable or bashful or anything else that she could detect and read as a negative reaction to being alone in her apartment with her.

Maggie’s thoughts turned cynical. Josh Benton was probably so used to drinking morning coffee in women’s apartments, undoubtedly after spending the night, that why on earth would this perfectly innocent situation with her make him feel uneasy?

Well, he might be just fine with this…this togetherness, but she was not. “I have my car keys right here,” Maggie said, holding them up so he could see.

Josh grinned. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Of course not! Take your time. I’ll finish my own coffee.” To prove that her second lie was the unmitigated truth, Maggie took her cup to the table and sat across from him. “Were you at the Bureau when I called your cell?” she asked in an effort to keep any conversation between them on business.

“On my way.” Josh got up, refilled his mug and resumed his seat. He took a sip and looked as satisfied as a frog in a rainfall. “I’m coming alive,” he said. “I do love my coffee. I hope I never have to give it up. You probably don’t even remember when almost everyone smoked, but I sure do. Went through hell quitting that habit, mostly because I enjoyed it so much. But it was getting so you couldn’t find a building that permitted smoking, and standing outside in this kind of weather to light up got very old, very fast.”

“I never did smoke, so I know very little about the trauma of quitting. I’ve heard horror stories about it, though.”

“Believe every one of them.” Josh locked his gaze with Maggie’s. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else with eyes the color of yours.”

Maggie felt her face get warm. He had switched gears so fast he’d caught her off guard. “I…I’m sure the color is not unique,” she stammered.

“It’s very unique, and you’re very beautiful.” Josh hadn’t intended to say any of those things, and he was even more startled by them than Maggie was. But she was beautiful this morning, and maybe she’d been beautiful yesterday, as well, and he’d been too wrapped up in the Gardner case to see her clearly.

Maggie felt as stiff as a board-a board with red cheeks. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” she said, her voice sounding thin and shaky. “We have to work together, and…and…”

Josh got to his feet and walked around the table to her. Tipping her chin with his forefinger he said softly, “And what, Maggie?”

She didn’t move away from him, she couldn’t. And when she saw his face coming closer to hers, she knew he was going to kiss her.

She parted her lips and sucked in a soft breath.

Breathless seconds passed in slow motion for Maggie. Fragmented thoughts drifted through her mind. I know this man…it’s not as though he’s a stranger. I want to feel his kiss…his lips on mine. Have I waited all this time for Josh Benton to reenter my life?

His scent seemed more familiar than her own. His body emanated exciting warmth. She felt things deep inside of her that were brand-new but instinctively recognizable.

But…why was he hesitating?

The answer to that question seemed written in neon in Josh’s brain, and finally he muttered a curse and finished his remark of self-disgusted recrimination with, “What the hell am I doing?” He stepped away from Maggie and plucked the keys from her hand so quickly that she reeled. “Come on,” he growled. “Take me to your car.”

His abrupt change of heart was like a physical blow for Maggie. She had to battle both fury and tears, for she believed that showing either side of the pain he’d just caused her would make her look immature and foolish. And she would die before knowingly appearing as anything but strong and uncaring in front of Josh.