Pushing Up Bluebonnets

Dugan's wet, muddy pants. A few minutes later they came back to where I stood. DeShay shed his gloves and held out his arms. 'How's my girl?'

We hugged and I said, 'I miss you, DeShay. You can still come over, you know.'

'Yeah, but then I'd start thinking about the best partnership HPD ever had. My man and I got it done, Abby. You know that.'

His 'man' was Jeff and they had been a good team. 'What happened to Kent Dugan?' I said.

'Wish I knew. Not shot or knifed, far as I can tell. The body was definitely moved to this location if I'm reading the lividity right. Someone probably rolled him up in the carpet remnant CSU has already picked up. And that's about all I can tell you for now. What can you tell me?'

'He was a player,' Cooper said. 'Should have gone to jail more than once but never did.'

DeShay turned to me. 'Abby, you met the complainant more than once, from what Jeff told me. Got any clue about next of kin? 'Cause we sure can't find anyone. His cell phone got wet, so we don't have that to help us right now. I'm hoping the tech guys can recover something, anything.'

'He has a live-in girlfriend named Georgeanne, but I don't know her last name. She works at some printer place—she might have told me where—it sure wasn't Kinkos—but I can't remember.'

Cooper said, 'Someone tried to kill his last live-in girlfriend. Jeff said he filled you in on that. Maybe we need to find out if this Georgeanne is okay . . . or might have had a little struggle with our friend Dugan.'

'A warrant to search Dugan's place is on the way. But this other girlfriend—the one before Georgeanne— she had a wreck and is in a coma, right?'

'They're gradually bringing her out and she's at least able to talk. Pretty groggy, though, as of an hour ago.'

The medical examiner's body movers, wearing their 'don't get a hernia' back braces, took a stretcher down to pick up the body, and the CSU officers backed off to allow them room. My stomach knotted up again. I did not want to see Dugan when they brought him up, not even in a body bag. No matter how much I disliked him, I sure as hell hadn't wanted him dead. I turned my back enough that I couldn't see what they were doing.

DeShay's dark forehead was beaded with moisture and the waistband of my capris was soaked with sweat. Cooper looked cool and calm and I wondered how he managed that in ninety-degree heat.

'Since it's hot enough to evaporate dirt, can we discuss this in the comfort of air-conditioning?' I said.

'I don't have the unmarked. I sent Maria for a search warrant of the Dugan residence.' DeShay checked his watch. 'She should be back pretty soon.'

'Who's Maria?' I asked.

'Officer Maria Chavez. My new partner.' He smiled as wide as a small dog with a large bone.

So the 'Chavez' Jeff had told me about was female. As the three of us walked up to the street, I said, 'By the look on your face, I'd say she's hot.'

'Oh, yes. Like my granny always said, when God shuts a door, He opens a window. Jeff may have been forced to close a door, but there stood Maria waiting behind the curtains. Smart woman, my Maria. Very smart.'

I pulled my purse-size SPF 30 cream from my bag and squeezed a dollop on my palm. 'Can we please find shade somewhere to talk while we wait for her?'

'No need,' DeShay said, looking past me. 'She's making the turn onto South Main now.'

I rubbed sunscreen on the back of my neck, which would make the hair back there greasy, not to mention wet from sweat. I reminded myself we were headed to a dead man's house, not my aunt Caroline's. No one would even notice.

Officer Chavez pulled up to where we stood.

'Get in,' DeShay told us, opening the back door.

Cooper and I climbed into the Taurus. Then DeShay took the front passenger seat. The car was blessedly cool and smelled like a pine tree. I noticed an air freshener hanging on the rearview.

Maria Chavez turned. 'Who are you two?' She wore an orange cotton shirt and her shiny dark hair was French-braided, her olive skin beautiful despite little or no makeup. I could tell why DeShay had taken a shine to this one.

'Chief Cooper Boyd, Pineview PD. And you're Officer Chavez?'

'That's me. And you?' She lifted her chin in my direction.

'I'm Abby Rose.'

'Wow. The famous Abby my partner talks about all the time? Did you know DeShay Peters is the president of your fan club?'

'Maria, get moving,' DeShay said. 'That is, if you know where we're going.'

'Oh, I know—probably better than you, amigo.' With that, she put the car in drive and made a screeching U- turn that practically landed me in Cooper's lap. I hitched on my seat belt and gave Cooper a wide-eyed 'Holy crap' look.

We filled them in on what we knew about Dugan as Chavez drove to the condo—drove like she'd stolen this cop car. DeShay took notes, barking at Chavez several times to slow down so he might have a chance of reading what he wrote later on. Then Chavez asked us a few questions. She was certainly abrupt, but after a few exchanges I realized this seemed to be her way, maybe because she'd decided a female in Homicide Division needed to come across as tough and in control.

When we arrived at our destination, we were all surprised to see another Taurus sitting in the driveway. A man wearing a tie and short-sleeved dress shirt was walking away from the front door. The badge and gun on his belt indicated he wasn't a Jehovah's Witness out on a mission.

'Hamlin, what the hell are you doing here?' DeShay called.

Meanwhile Chavez said, 'What'd you do, Peters? Alert everyone in HPD?'

'I didn't talk to anyone besides Jeff,' he said. 'Hamlin works in the financial crimes division, so Jeff wouldn't have sent him.' DeShay met this new officer halfway up the front walkway, Chavez tailing behind muttering about how this was their case and they didn't need any damn help—and she was probably including us.

While the three of them greeted one another, Cooper looked at me. 'I called HPD last night, left a message for the forgery unit.' He started toward them and I followed.

Cooper cleared his throat. 'I'm Cooper Boyd, Pineview PD. I made a call last night—'

'Got your message, Chief Boyd. You think this residence is a possible ID shop?' Hamlin said.

'Yes,' he answered with a nod. 'Seems it's more than that now, though.'

My turn to clear my throat. 'Um, hi. I'm Abby Rose, a PI connected to this case.'

Hamlin grinned. 'The Abby Rose? Jeff Kline's best friend? Russ Hamlin.' He extended his hand and then took mine in both of his, squeezing hard. 'We know how you helped him after he was shot. We owe you.'

I felt uncomfortable being praised by HPD for helping Jeff, praised by the men and women who put their lives on the line every day. I wanted to move past this. 'Are there two warrants for this house, then?' I asked.

'I didn't have enough for a warrant, but since Dugan's dead, I suppose you do,' Hamlin said to DeShay.

Chavez smiled and held up the paperwork. 'Exigent circumstances, too. We can go in without an invitation, since the complainant's condition indicates another crime scene. I am learning fast how to ask for these warrants and get exactly what we need.'

'Anyone home?' DeShay asked Hamlin.

'No one answered,' he said. 'But that doesn't mean much.'

'Not good.' DeShay rested a hand on his SIG Sauer. 'I hope we don't find a dead girlfriend. Take the back, Chavez.'

Hamlin's expression went serious. 'You want me to back her up?'

'I don't need any help,' Chavez said over her shoulder as she started around the garage.

'Excuse me for carrying a weapon, Miss Homicide,' Hamlin shot back.

'Sorry about that, my man,' DeShay said. 'She's new in homicide. Got a lot to prove. Can you stay with Abby and Cooper until we find out what we got inside?' DeShay looked at me. 'Tell him what you know about Dugan, Abby.'

Hamlin said, 'You're gonna need the Moby, unless you got the keys. Heavy door, dead bolt, too.'