Bombshell (AN FBI THRILLER) (3 page)

Ruth sighed, handed Griffin the lab report. “All the results tell us so far is that we were right about the blood in the bathtub not being Delsey’s. The blood on the floor, Delsey’s blood, was AB positive, and the blood in the bathtub is the ever-popular Type O. They’ve started the DNA typing, so we can still hope for some magic from the lab if they get a match in the DNA Index System.” She eyed him. “A cold hit is not very likely, though, as you know.”

Griffin said, “If she walked in on a burglary that morphed into a murder, or on someone putting a body in her bathtub, he would have killed her, not just hit her on the head.”

“Maybe he thought the blow did kill her. Maybe that’s what he intended. Or maybe he panicked.” How close had she been to dying? He tasted ashes in his mouth. What they needed was for Delsey to tell them what happened last night.

Ruth said, “Dix has already assigned a deputy to stand guard outside her room. If the perp does think he killed her and finds out she’s alive, he might try again.”

Griffin said, “Let’s hope not, but thank you. If the person in the bathtub was dead, the killer took the body out of Delsey’s apartment for a good reason. And what could the reason be? Someone could have seen him, no matter that it was well after midnight. He was taking a huge risk, carrying the body into her apartment, then carrying it out after Delsey screamed. Either Delsey’s attacker walked out, was helped out, or his killer really didn’t want us to know who he was, which would be the case no matter what else was involved. If it was a burglary, what were they after? I’ve thought about that but can’t think of anything particularly valuable. Her guitar is, I suppose, but not her piano, so that adds to the questions. What did they want? What did they hope to find?”

Griffin looked back at Delsey. “I guess I should tell you we have a name for my sister in the family—Trouble Magnet—that’s with capital letters, her official title. She drives our parents nuts.” Griffin told her about Delsey’s first newspaper route, when she delivered papers to a bank robber.

Ruth stared at him. “That’s pretty funny, but only since it turned out well. Does Delsey have anything to do with why you became an FBI agent?”

“Not really, but some of our instincts are the same. I have several more stories about Delsey that’ll make your hair rise on your neck. If there’s a wrong place and a wrong time, and the wrong guys, Delsey will find them or they’ll find her. Maybe it’s all mistaken identity. I wouldn’t be surprised, given her history.”

“I believe our patient moved a bit.”

Delsey heard voices, one of them familiar, and the voice seemed to be talking about her. She slowly opened her eyes to see her brother not three feet from her nose. “Griffin?”

Her voice was a skinny thread of sound that scared him to his feet. “Yep, I’m here. How are you feeling, Dels?”

“Don’t ask me that yet; I’m not sure. My brain seems to be floating up there somewhere near the ceiling. Maybe it’s better if I let it hover up there for a while.”

He patted her cheek. “Hovering is good. Gotta tell you, Dels, you look a little pathetic with the big white bandage around your head.”

“So you’re more beautiful than me right now?”

“Maybe, but you’ve got the win on drama points with that big honker bandage. Very impressive.”

“I heard you talking. You didn’t sound happy. Why?”

“Something happened to you,” he said. “Again.”

Delsey pulled her hand away from his and slowly raised it to touch her head. “What? Was I in an accident?”

“No, not an accident. You don’t remember?”

She frowned, then shook her head and gasped. “I don’t think I should move again. My head, Griffin—my head feels like it’ll explode if I do. That would be an awful sight, even for you, Mr. Macho FBI Agent.”

Griffin was on his feet. “I’m going to go find a nurse, get some meds for you, all right?”

“Yeah, that’d be good. Oh, no.”

She lurched up, and Ruth managed to get a bedpan to her mouth in time. She fell back against the pillow, shut her eyes. “I’m sorry. I had too much to drink last night.”

“Not a problem.” Ruth wiped Delsey’s mouth with a wet towelette. Not a good time for questions. She said, “Close your eyes and make your breathing light and shallow, that’s right, just relax.” She began stroking the back of Delsey’s hand as she said slowly, her voice as calm as a shallow summer river, “I’m Agent Ruth Noble. No, don’t try to talk. Keep everything easy, Delsey, just listen, don’t think. I’m married to the local sheriff, Dix Noble. He’s a lovely man, all tall and dark and tough as a muscle truck. He actually saved my life last year. It turned into a real gnarly mess here in Maestro as I’m sure you’ve heard, but we got it all straightened out. I have two stepsons now, Rob and Rafer, seventeen and fifteen. Both of them look like their father, and that means they’re going to be heartbreakers. Well, Rob already is. I’m going to be working in Washington with your brother, at the Hoover Building.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it? I don’t want you to worry about anything. Keep still until your insides settle.”

“Could I have a sip of water?”

Ruth set a plastic straw on her tongue. “Not too much, now; that’s right.”

Delsey took a single sip, felt her stomach twist, then, thank the Good Lord, it quieted down. “I’ve heard of you, Agent—”

“Call me Ruth.”

“Okay, Ruth. Most everyone at Stanislaus has heard of you, Ruth, you and your husband, Sheriff Noble. I heard a Stanislaus student was murdered, then the director’s secretary.”

“Yes. We got it sorted out.”

“A lot of the women at Stanislaus think Sheriff Noble’s hot—some of the guys do, too. It will get even worse now that Griffin’s in town. When the women get a load of him, there’ll be fistfights.”

Ruth smiled and patted her hand. “You might be right. He’s quite a package.”

“Poor Griffin, he has to deal with females up to about eighty coming on to him. Maybe the older women want to mother him. Or not, hard to say.”

Griffin came through the door with Nurse Morsi, who checked Delsey’s pulse, put a stethoscope to her chest, and said “good” several times. Ruth told her about Delsey getting sick. Instead of a magic med, Nurse Morsi produced a saltine cracker. “Chew on this, Delsey. Go slow, that’s right, a bit at a time. It will help with the nausea.”

Delsey chewed on the cracker. Her stomach didn’t complain. “Thanks. That’s good.”

“A flash of nausea is common with a concussion; nothing to worry about. It’s already gone, right?”

Delsey took the last bite of cracker, waited for a moment, and nodded.

“Good. If the nausea comes back we can give you an injection to calm things down. You had quite a bit of alcohol last night that showed up on your blood tests. That can’t be helping. Right now I want you to lie still, have some more water and saltines when you feel like it, and let your body reboot.”

Nurse Morsi left after a long look at Griffin, one Delsey recognized as saying,
How about I buy you a drink?
Delsey focused on her brother. “Griffin, I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to my new job in Washington and planned on stopping here to surprise you.”

“Did you see Jennifer?”

“Yes, she’s fine, made me the best waffles on the planet.”

Delsey said to Ruth, “Jennifer is an incredible cook. Believe it or not, she’s never wanted to be anything but Griffin’s friend.”

Griffin didn’t have the heart to tell her Jennifer was gay.

Delsey said, “She owns Jenny’s Café over in Gaffer’s Ridge, an hour or so northwest of here. I visited her this past fall and put on three pounds.”

Griffin knew she was being chatty; she always was when she was scared. It was a wonder she could manage it. He bent down and lightly laid his fingers over her mouth. “Don’t worry about all this, Dels, I’ll do all the worrying for you—or, better yet, we’ll let Ruth carry the worry load.”

“Not a problem,” Ruth said and began rubbing the back of Delsey’s hand again.

Delsey sighed. “It’s probably just as well Jenny’s gay. If she wanted to marry you, Griffin, you’d gain a hundred pounds.”

So she knew, did she? “Nah, I’ve got more willpower than you.”

“Do you know, Ruth,” Delsey said, “whenever we were sick, our grandmother would rub our hands and she’d sing that beautiful aria from
Madame Butterfly
, ‘Un Bel Dì,’ to us. You don’t have to sing, Griffin.”

Griffin said, “No, I won’t. Is the hand rubbing working?”

“It’s a good distraction.”

Ruth wanted to ask Delsey Freestone what had happened, but she decided Griffin should take the lead. She said only, “It’s snowing, bunches of big flakes drifting down. I’ll bet my two stepsons are sledding and snowboarding with half the kids in town at Breaker’s Hill.”

“I sledded at Breaker’s Hill three days ago,” Delsey said. She closed her eyes. Ruth thought her head must be really hurting.

Delsey turned very slightly to look at her brother. “You’ve got to get married, Griffin, and have kids. Imagine how gorgeous they’ll be. Maybe they’ll be lucky and have some of my talent.”

“Back at you. Maybe your kids will have some of my talent.”

Even though her head hurt and she wished she had another saltine to keep her stomach off the ledge, Delsey smiled. “I’ve gotta admit, your talent’s more interesting than mine. I mean, you’ve always simply
known
things no one else knew. I’ve always had to run into things, head-on, like the time that boy snatched Mrs. Garland’s tote bag and ran right into me when I came around the corner.” She closed her eyes again, but there was a small smile on her mouth. “At least Mrs. Garland got her tote back.”

He said, his voice very precise, “I meant my talent for solving crimes.”

“Yeah, yeah. Griffin never wants to talk about it, Ruth, but Miss Aladonna not only sang, she was psychic, and she swore that was her biggest talent and she passed it on to him.”

Ruth said, “Did Miss Aladonna speak to spirits?”

“No, like Griffin, she simply knew stuff there was no way she could know. She—”

“Enough of that, Delsey. I told you, I was talking about my talent as a cop. I see patterns sometimes, that’s all, look at puzzle pieces and can many times see how they all fit together. You’re looking better, you’re arguing with me, so let’s get down to business here, if you can do it without throwing up again.”

Delsey said to Ruth, “I told you he never wants to talk about it.”

Ruth only smiled.

“That’s enough, Delsey. You need to tell Ruth and me what happened. If you feel sick again, you stop talking, okay?”

Delsey felt a twist of nausea and swallowed. “Yeah, I can do this.” She swallowed again. “I went to a party over at Professor Rafael Salazar’s house.” She stopped cold, and her breathing picked up, suddenly hard and fast.

Ruth leaned close. “No, don’t panic, Delsey. Relax. What upset you?”

“I can’t seem to remember anything after I parked my Spyder at Professor Salazar’s house—there’s nothing else until I was here with you.”

Griffin said matter-of-factly, “Not remembering is common with a bad concussion. Now, you went to a party at this Professor Salazar’s house? You mean Rafael Salazar? The classical guitarist? I’ve got a couple of his CDs. He’s very good.”

“That’s him. He’s better than good, he’s brilliant. I’ve read he was a child prodigy.”

“So why is he at Stanislaus?”

“He’s a visiting professor, brought here by—this is really cool—his twin brother, who happens also to be the director of Stanislaus, Dr. Elliot Hayman.”

“I didn’t know he had a twin,” Griffin said. “And it’s Dr. Elliot Hayman? I also have some of his CDs playing Bach. Okay, I want to hear more about him, too, but first tell me more about Rafael Salazar.”

Delsey said, “I’ve never seen technique like his on the classical guitar. His fingers are a blur. His students adore him, particularly the women, and it’s not only his musical ability. He throws great parties and drinks his weight in vodka martinis, but what he excels at is dazzle and seduction, which he does with great regularity.” She grinned. “He’s with Gabrielle DuBois right now. She’s a voice student. I think he made a mistake—he let it out he thought Gabrielle sings like Edith Piaf, and believe me, she doesn’t let anyone forget it.”

“Wait a second,” Griffin said. “If he and Hayman are twin brothers, why do they have different last names?”

“All I know is they were separated as boys; Mom took one to Spain, married again, and changed his name to the new hubby’s name, Salazar, and Dad kept the other one with him here in the States.”

“Okay, back to the party at Salazar’s house.”

“I remember there were lots of people and cars and the music blaring out even though the windows were closed. Then it’s a blank.”

“Someone hit you on the head at your apartment, Delsey. We’re trying to figure out who.” Ruth stopped in her tracks when a woman rushed into the room, bundled up to her eyebrows, pulling off a wool cap and sending a long, thick dark braid flying down her back. It was Anna Castle, a Stanislaus student and part-time waitress at Maurie’s Diner. Ruth liked Anna, who’d come to Stanislaus at the beginning of the semester in September. She was always smiling and welcoming to her customers, knew all their likes and dislikes, and she always had time to chat with everyone. Ruth said quickly, “Hi, Anna, it’s okay. Delsey’s all right,” but Ruth saw all her attention was focused on Delsey. Since they both attended Stanislaus, she supposed they’d know each other, but this was more, this was real caring, real concern.