Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 01 - The Day Job is Murder (3 page)

“Still doesn’t explain how you know who I am.”

“You look like a cop, Sean.”

“Mr. McKinley will work just fine.”

“Very well, Mr. McKinley. Very proper, but I like it.” She adjusted a leather attaché under her arm. “My father was a cop. I have a brother who is a cop. All of you have a certain air about you.” Her words came to a standstill as their eyes locked. “You’re probably in a hurry. That’s another thing with cops. You always have something to do.”

“That would be correct. If you would excuse me.” He took one step.

“Please. There is something I need to discuss with you.”

“With me?”

She held out a business card, pressed between her index and middle finger. “That’s my card. If you can, I’d like to schedule you for tomorrow afternoon. Would one thirty work for you?”

Had Quinn left him something? Did he correctly understand her interest in him?

He smiled at her. “Did he leave me a collection of handkerchiefs?”

Daphne returned the smile, this time it seemed sincere, without a hidden agenda. “He did like them.”

“You knew him well?”

She nodded, but she was able to withhold any clear evidence of grief. There were no tears in her eyes, no downward tug on her lips, no quiver contorting her chin.

“I worked with him for years. He told me about you.”

“About me?”

“Yes, of course. He said that he never understood why a young man would want to spend time—”

“With an old coot like him.”

“That’s right.”

Neither said anything for a few seconds, both summoned to the past carried on melancholy wings.

Sean broke the silence. “Well.”

“Well, Mr. McKinley, I’ll see you at one thirty tomorrow, then? The address on the card.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“All right, then.” She excused herself with a slight dip of her head.

Reality

SARA CONSIDERED CALLING SEAN TO see how he had made out. It was more than a passing thought actually—it was a repeating chorus, ringing in her head. She had shot the notion down several times. She didn’t need her expression of concern taken another way, and it would be hard not to disclose her true feelings.

She thought about covering the intention of the call, diverting it to a case update, but gave herself a firm no. She’d seen it before, friends turn into lovers, turn into enemies. She didn’t want that happening to them. At least this way, he was a part of her daily life. She’d learned to swallow back the emotions that regularly surfaced. The way he smiled at her, the way he insisted on holding doors open for her, how up until just recently, he’d get the car door for her. It broke her heart to tell him to stop that. She was worried about rumors spreading around the department. Cops made excellent gossipers.

She tucked her legs up under her and settled on the sofa, notebook ready, and a pen poised over the page. There was only a paragraph written and not many full sheets came before it, maybe fifty. She took in her small hands, noticing how truly delicate they appeared. She envisioned a wedding band on her ring finger.

The daydreaming set in and she visualized herself with Sean, imagining that things were different and they were free to be together without risk to both a broken heart and a messed-up career. What if they were two regular people who, met in a park, fell in love and got married?

No. She had to stop her thoughts from traveling down that well-worn path. It was paved with tears and regrets, of a sort, but if they ever broke up, it had the potential of tilting the world upside down. She had to disregard the urging inside her that insisted a successful romantic relationship with him would do the same.

But she’d seen the way he left other women. He cut things off quick and clean. Look at poor Nancy. All she did was have an attachment to her cat. Even though Sara didn’t think he’d do that to her, how could she risk everything?

Her hand brushed the phone as she lifted the wine glass she had placed on the table beside her. She shook her head, washing the thought down with a mouthful of wine. Then she got to work and poured her heart into her story. Words quickly covered the page.

Sean had left the funeral with every intention of going home to change and then back out to see Sara. At the very least, he wanted to know how she’d made out with Burton and whether or not he was their guy. But then his empty house sucked him in and he’d never felt so alone.

He had slipped into an old pair of ratty jogging pants and a brand-name sweater, one that had cost too much money at the time, but proved the adage you get what you pay for. For a sixty-five-dollar investment, it had given him ten-plus years of warm evenings.

He settled onto the couch, another purchase from many years ago. Its cushions were tattered and worn, but there were better ways to spend money. The large screen television across from him was a splurge buy, a stab at retail therapy, but it hadn’t worked. He had charged it the day Sara told him their relationship wouldn’t be progressing to the next level. While the purchase didn’t mend his heart, it did provide a clear picture—of sports and movies—and when paired with the surround system bought that day as well, it made for a great media area.

It was after eight, and he considered calling Sara, but the funeral service had left him emotionally drained, and if that wasn’t enough, the mystery of what Quinn had left him in his Will played on him.

Maybe he was getting a collection of handkerchiefs. Quinn didn’t have money. His clothes looked older than the dated car he drove. He laughed and then swigged back a mouthful of light beer. As if. It really didn’t matter what he was left, but what it equated to—he had touched Quinn’s life. He should have made time for him.

He pulled out the memorial card and read it through. When he was finished, he glanced over at the phone, his thoughts on Sara. He should call.

Seconds later, he was listening to her line ring. On the third, she answered.

“Hey, Sara.”

“Sean? Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Of course?”

“How did it go with Burton today?” He took another draw on the beer bottle.

“He swears he didn’t do it. He asked me how he could kill someone when he was so nervous with cops that he vomited.” She paused to laugh. “That’s a valid point.”

“I guess it is. Maybe we’ll have to open up our suspect pool.”

“Well, we had to let him go. We can’t prove he did it. It also turns out he had a solid alibi.”

“Back to the start, then.”

“Yeah, exactly what I was thinking.”

“Did you want to head over to the house now, see if there’s something we missed?”

“Oh, Sean, you’ve had a rough day. It can wait until tomorrow.” Sara let out a yawn.

Even over the telephone, it was contagious, and she laughed when she noticed he caught it.

He could listen to the sound of her voice, and her laughter, for a lifetime. It was too bad that the job got in the way, but he didn’t want to sacrifice having her as a partner either. He just believed someday, when it was meant to happen, Sara would be his wife. Some days he had more faith in that outcome than others.

“So, if I’m taking it easy tonight, I hope you are.” Sean watched the images play out on the muted TV.

“I’m actually writing.”

He sat up straighter and returned the empty bottle to the side table. “Are you finally making progress with that thing?”

She laughed again. “That thing, as you put it, will be a best-seller one day.”

“Well, first, don’t you have to finish it?” If he had to find one fault with Sara, it was her tendency to procrastinate. She dreamed big, but failed to keep focused and see things through to the end.

“Sean, it’s a good thing you’re not standing next to me—”

“I could be.”

The words slipped out and they fell to a silent line.

Sean took responsibility for that and spoke first. “I guess Quinn left me something. I have an appointment with his estate lawyer, who is also his executor, tomorrow.”

“He left you money?”

“I doubt it’s money. I don’t think he had any.” For a second he paused, giving in to the dream. All that he could do with a bunch of cash, and he knew what he’d do first, but he shook the thought. There was no sense getting sentimentally attached to something that wasn’t going to happen. The fantasy came to an abrupt halt with a realization. “He lived in the same house he grew up in.”

“Isn’t that adorable.”

“He was a great man.”

“I remember you saying he reminded you of your dad.”

“I said all that?” He tried to think back on it, but couldn’t pry that memory into the light.

“Yeah, you mentioned it at the Christmas party, two months ago. You drank a little too much cheer, don’t you remember? We were sitting, talking with Officer Bridges and he had just lost his mother-in-law the week before. His father-in-law was living with them. He was really low, but you told him he wasn’t alone and that a lot of people miss their lost loved ones at this time of the year. If he needed anything, you told him to call you.”

He listened to each word she said, savoring not just the sound of her voice, but what a terrific person she was. How could he go on simply being friends with the woman he loved?

“Do you remember when we first met?” He broached the sanctioned territory.

“Yes, I do.” Her voice held a defensive barrier, as if by discussing this she might lose her willpower.

Sometimes he felt like to heck with it, this romance was worth risking everything. He’d find another job, maybe not one he cared for as much, but he’d always pay the bills.

“You were writing that book then.” He attempted to steer the direction to safer ground—off their unexplored love and back to her hobby.

“Yeah.”

“But it was your smile that had me. You weren’t pushy or sickly flirtatious.”

“Well, thanks.” Sara laughed. “Why are we talking about this? You know how things have to be.”

“I know.” He hated his life for that simple reason. “I think it’s just because of my day.”

“Understandable. Death always has a way of making us think deeper. It also helps us appreciate how precious life is and that we have to live while we’re alive. Are you going to be all right, Sean?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then, I’ll see you tomorrow? What time’s your appointment with the lawyer?”

“One thirty.”

“See you in the morning then. Night, Sean.”

“Night, Sara.” He wanted to say,
goodnight beautiful
.