Decaffeinated Corpse

“No! Please, keep going, Mike... How did you find her body... you know, when you first came into the room? Was it near the chest of drawers where you found the bits of blood and hair?”

“No... we found her... I’m sorry, Clare, we found her hanging by an electrical cord from the shower curtain rod.”

“What?”

“The killer tried to make it look like she’d hung herself. He did a piss poor job of it, too. We didn’t need an autopsy to see that hanging wasn’t the cause of death, that the scene had been clumsily manipulated.”

“You said he. Are you sure it was a man?”

“The injuries, the way the body was hung. If it wasn’t a man, it was a pretty strong woman.”

I thought of Monika Van Doorn... the woman looked tall and strong, all right. And she’d arrived well after Ric. Could she have gone to Ric’s room, looking for him, found Ellie, and flown into a rage? I told Quinn as much. He pulled out his detective’s notebook and jotted down her name for follow up. I mentioned Norbert Usher, too, Ellie’s slightly creepy Eddie Haskell-esque assistant.

“Norbert was at the Beekman event, too. I remember seeing him there.”

He scribbled the name.

“And while that notebook’s out,” I continued. “I have something else to tell you.”

“Shoot,” he said. His eyes found mine. “Not literally.”

“Don’t even try to make this easier.”

“Tell me.”

I gave him the condensed tale of what I’d discovered earlier in the week—how I’d talked to Ellie at the Botanic Garden, followed her to the V Hotel, saw her meeting Rick, but also saw a man tailing her.

Mike sat up straighter. “Where did you follow him?”

“An agency near the United Nations. They’re called Worldwide Private Investigations, and I spoke to a Mr. Anil Kapoor.”

“Spell it all for me...”

Mike wrote everything down. “This is a solid lead, Clare. I’ll phone my partner. We’ll go there first thing in the morning.”

“I want to go with you. Mr. Kapoor will remember me. He’ll probably be more willing to talk once he sees I’m your witness.”

“Okay.”

“And one more thing. Have you looked at Ellie’s husband as a suspect?”

“We always do in cases like this, as a matter of course, but Jerry Lassiter has an alibi.”

“Well, look hard at that alibi—and any associates Lassiter might have hired to hurt his wife—because Worldwide Private Investigations lists TerraGreen International as a client.”

“TerraGreen?” Mike flipped through his notebook.

“That’s the company where Lassiter’s a VP.”

“That’s right... so how could you pick up Matt?” I heard myself snapping. I couldn’t help it. I was extremely tired, it was very late, and my feelings toward Quinn had been a mixed bag for a long time. “Do you really believe he had anything to do with something so awful?”

“Let’s leave my assessment of your ex’s character out of this, okay?” His tone was strained now, too, and a little defensive. “I had enough circumstantial evidence to grill him, and you know it. The hotel room was registered in his name, and his clothes were there. We even found his monogrammed handkerchief.”

“Ric borrowed those clothes!”

“We know. We know the whole story now, Matt gave us every detail. It was Ric’s room, and Ric was having an affair with Ellie.”

“So Matt’s off your ‘persons of interest’ list?”

“We won’t get DNA results for a while, but we already have a blood type on the tissue under her fingernails. It’s not Matt’s type.”

“What about Ric?”

“It’s not Ric’s, either. He’s the same type as Matt. Neither man appeared to have been the person Ellie Lassiter struggled with before she died.”

“So Ric and Matt are both off the hook?” I pressed.

“For Ellie,” Mike said. “But not for Hernandez. Midtown’s making the call on charging someone for that... it could be Matt or Ric... or neither.”

“Oh, god...”

“You’ll know soon, Clare. They won’t hold those guys long. They can’t. Habeas corpus, you know? And they won’t dare make a charge until they know the DA can make it stick in court. Just hang in there.”

I sighed, rubbed my neck, which was still sore.

“Come here,” Mike said quietly. “Sit down, try to relax.”

I sat next to him. He put one strong hand on my neck, used his fingers to gently loosen the muscles.

“Oh, Mike... that feels good...”

The warmth of the fire felt good, too, and the warmth of Mike’s strong leg against mine. I closed my eyes. My hand lightly settled on top of his thigh. The moment I touched him, I heard his sharp breath. I opened my eyes. This wasn’t a dream. Mike was really here. He was bending toward me, his mouth covering mine. The kiss was sweet and hungry and a little desperate for both of us.

I wasn’t the one to break off first.

Mike stared into the glowing hearth, put his arm around me, tucked me close against him. “Let’s take it slow,” he said.

“I like the sound of let’s... you know, you and me... plural.”

Mike laughed. “I like the sound of it, too, Clare. But I want it to be right between us... long and slow and beautiful, not here... not like this.”

“You mean not with two unsolved murders on the table and my ex-husband in custody?”

“Yeah...” He exhaled. “You know my personal life’s been in flux. God...” He cursed softly. “Why mince words? It’s been a hell of a mess for a long time. I never wanted to bring you into my mess. I didn’t think it was fair. And now I’m living like a college kid again, out of my old home, into this spare apartment...”

I smiled. “How spare?”

“Nothing I want you to see.”

“Come on, how bad could it be? A mattress on the floor? A bare lightbulb.”

“Close, Cosi. Very close.”

“Well, you could always ask me to help you decorate the place. I’m not bad at it, you know?”

“I don’t want you to be my interior decorator, Clare. I want you...” His voice trailed off. “I just want you.”

“I want you, too, Mike.”

“And it’ll be right between us soon... I promise.”

I couldn’t argue with him. This guy was a romantic. That was okay. So was I.

We closed our eyes then. We were both exhausted, and in a few minutes, we dozed off. When I woke again, about twenty minutes later, Mike was sleeping soundly, and I realized the Blend’s second floor couch was about to become a temporary bed for another lost soul.

I rose, letting his body fall gently into a reclined position. I removed his shoes, went to my office, and looked for the thick wool throw I kept there. Back at the fireplace, I covered Mike’s lanky form, kissed his cheek. Then I wished him sweet dreams and climbed the back stairs to find my own bed.

Twenty-Two

Bleary eyed, I stumbled down the stairs at ten minutes to six to greet the baker’s truck. I didn’t even have time to brew a pot of the Village Breakfast Blend before I heard the delivery bell ring. I unlocked the door and held it open.