She touched Romana’s arm. “Why did you think he was after you?”
“Very long story,” Romana replied. “But take my advice. If your daughter ever decides to become a cop, tell her to make sure it’s what she wants.” She regarded the bleeding Santa, let her mind rewind to the telephone threat she’d received only yesterday and her eyes stray to Jacob. “Because no matter how hard you try, if you decide to leave the force, the break will never be totally clean.”
WELL, WELL, NOW WASN’T THIS AN intriguing twist? Someone else, someone completely unrelated to his purpose, had done the terrorizing tonight. He hadn’t needed to lift a finger. True, the guy hadn’t rattled them too deeply; but there must have been a moment when they’d been unsure, when Romana in particular had feared for her life.
He warmed to the idea. Prolonged fear. They should never be sure where Warren Critch might pop up or what he’d do when he did. Yes, he liked that scenario very much.
He’d use uncertainty to his advantage, throw them off-balance then swoop in for the kill.
He smiled the smile of a smug, nasty Grinch. Who said revenge had to be dull?
“ANSWER’SNO, FITZ. I’m not going. End of conversation.” “Come on, Ro, I need you there for support. Anyway, functions like this are fun. When you were on the force, you told me police parties had the potential to get wild.”
In the kitchen of her Clifton apartment, Romana removed a final tray of Christmas gingerbread from the oven and glanced at Fitz’s half-empty glass of eggnog.
They’d been baking the parts for a gingerbread house all afternoon. Romana was comfortably barefoot in her favorite black sweats, a stretchy white tank and three pairs of jingling Christmas earrings. It might have been thirty degrees outside, but a gas fire burned warm and inviting in her living room, the air smelled of ginger and other spices, and Loreena McKennitt sang haunting Christmas melodies on her MP3 player.
She listened to her cousin’s dramatic pleas and told herself not to laugh. No matter what her initial mood, Fitz always had the ability to amuse her. But go to a police/forensics party after she’d left the force? Not in this lifetime, not even for Anna Fitzgerald’s sake.
“You’re slurring your words, Fitz.” She rearranged the trays in an attempt to figure out which pieces went where. “No more brandy until I can understand at least half of what you’re saying.” Still arranging, she shoved at her cousin’s hand. “And don’t eat the walls until they’re up.”
“Say no all you like, you’re coming to the party.” Despite her thick tongue, Fitz’s expression grew sly. “Bet Jacob Knight’ll be there.”
Romana slid Fitz’s glass out of reach. “Jacob does parties like I do boring faculty dinners-which is to say, he only goes when threatened by a higher power. Don’t eat the roof, either.”
“I’ll cut you a deal, Ro. I’ll stop nibbling if you’ll tell me about the mean Santa who nabbed you in the bathroom. You rushed through it too fast the first time.”
Although she didn’t want to repeat the story again, the alternative-to be badgered for the next hour by her tipsy cousin-was even less palatable.
“The guy was a thief, Fitz. He dressed up as Santa Claus, marched into a liquor store, waited for a lull, broke a bottle and used it on the cashier. Manager was in the back. He found a knife and charged. Santa took off. He didn’t have time to lose the costume, so he left it on and ran into Bitte, where Jacob and I were having dinner. The women’s washroom door was right there. He saw it as a refuge and ducked in.”
“Where was Jacob?”
“Heading for the men’s room. The liquor store manager spotted his badge and told him he’d followed a would- be thief into the restaurant. Jacob reasoned it out. Result? Mean Santa’s going to be spending Christmas in jail with a few badly bruised body parts and a broken nose.”
Fitz fingered her own nose. “Remind me never to sneak up on you from behind. So time passes, and you and Jacob have been doing what?”
With the gingerbread set out in semiformation, Romana began capping the spices. “We’ve been questioning people who knew Belinda Critch, and a few who knew her husband. One of Warren’s amateur theater cronies manages a toy store. We’re seeing him tonight.”
“Yeah? Downtown store or shopping mall?”
“Mall.”
Fitz made a face. “I like street shops better. Crowded malls suck.”
Romana grinned. “Too many security guards lurking in the shop shadows, huh?”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Her cousin’s elbows hit the granite counter with a thud. “Man, you swipe a few small things…”
“Like a Rolex and a handheld PC, two pairs of Jimmy Choo shoes…”
“I get it, Ro. Sticky fingers-bad. Straight and narrow- good. Don’t forget I have serious childhood issues. My father’s an alcoholic.” Fitz’s elbows slid away and her forehead landed on the counter. “James says he’s on the bottle again.”
Romana swung around. “Oh, Fitz, I’m sorry.” She leaned over the island. “Is he sure?”
“Ninety percent. He told me about it in the park. I kind of passed it by Dad, but you know how he is. Deny to the death, or the unemployment line if he isn’t careful.” She eased her head up to peek out from under her bangs. “I don’t suppose you could, you know…”
“Talk to him?”
“He likes you.”
“Doesn’t mean he’ll listen.” But at Fitz’s stricken expression, Romana relented. “Yes, all right, I’ll talk. Tell him I’ll drop by for tea on Saturday.”
“Sunday. Saturday’s the police party, and setting aside the fact that I want you there, you should want you there. Think about it, Ro. A lot of cops worked on Belinda Critch’s case. You can talk to them. Or Jacob can. And don’t tell me he won’t show, because you can con anyone into anything when you put your mind to it.” A lopsided smile appeared. Using her fingernails, she inched her eggnog forward. “So, does the cutie pie detective have as great a body as I think he does under those jeans and that super cool leather jacket?”
Amusement tickled Romana’s throat. “No idea, Fitz.” Which was a lie since she had plenty of ideas, not to mention last night’s deliciously graphic dream still shooting around in her head. To tell Fitz anything, however, was to risk announcing it to the world. “We kissed, okay? Nothing more erotic than that.”
“Was it great?”
Eyes sparkling, Romana drew the eggnog back out of range. “Get invited to the police officer’s New Year’s Eve party, and you might find out.”
“Yeah, right, like Knight’s going to do New Year’s Eve.”
Sliding her gaze to the wide condo window, Romana watched tiny snowflakes drift down from a dove-gray sky. “Trust me, Fitz, if Jacob and I make it through Christmas to New Year’s Eve alive, we’ll be in the mood to celebrate.” She jingled the bell on one of her earrings. “At least his neighbor’s better. Sort of. She’s awake and aware.”
“That sounds good. Why don’t you sound happy?”
“Oh, I’m happy, just-I don’t know-puzzled, maybe. She says Critch was wearing a ski mask when he grabbed her.”
Fitz searched for the point. “And that puzzles you because…?”
“Why would he bother?”
“Uh, so she couldn’t identify him?”
“Yes, but we know it was him, so I repeat, why bother?”
“Maybe he’s shy.”
“Mmm.” Romana considered it from Critch’s point of view. “I suppose he could have been thinking that as long as he was disguised, even if we believed he was Critch, there’d be no actual proof.”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
“I mean if Denny had died, Jacob could have said he thought it was Critch who hit her, but he couldn’t be absolutely certain. And any potential witnesses, say another neighbor, wouldn’t have been able to provide a description, either. Becomes conjecture in the eyes of the court-ergo, no murder charge.”
“Until he gets around to you and Jacob.”
“That’s different, or it will be in Critch’s eyes. He’ll have an escape plan in place, an immediate one. In Denny’s
