Dangerous Kisses (Siren Publishing Classic) (9 page)

“Even if it turns out that your honey is the murderer after all.”

“Even if it turns out that
Drake
is our killer.”

Chapter Four

Drake watched Megan spin away from Cusack. She stomped his direction, her muscles tight, her movements jerky, and her expression cold as ice. Yeah, no doubt about it, the woman was pissed and sexy as hell in her anger.

“When they finish combing this place, you’ll be allowed to move the fish back to the main tank. I’ve told Cusack it will have to be done. They don’t need to stay in the holding tank any longer than necessary.”

Drake nodded, studying her. She was all business, her emotions guarded, her tone revealing nothing. “Okay.”

“Can you handle the job without me? You’ll have Tracey and Mark here to help.”

“Where are you going?”

“To check out your story.”

“You think I did it, don’t you?” He had noticed the way she had backed up from him after he told her the knife belonged to him. She hadn’t said anything when he told her he didn’t kill Paul, either. He searched her eyes for something that would tell him what she was thinking, but the wall she had slammed into place hid her thoughts well. The woman was good. He would give her that. He had always been able to read her like a book, easily picking up on her attraction to him, never once doubting the dark passion she craved and her fears of giving into those hungers. But, when it came to reading her now, the book was closed and padlocked shut.

“I think I have a murder that needs investigating, and that’s what I’m about to do.”

“Then Cusack isn’t taking me in yet?”

“No, but he is stationing uniforms through the building. They will remain here while you finish up.”

“Do I get to take them home with me, too?”

“You’re not under surveillance, Drake, but I wouldn’t plan any spur-of-the-moment trips out of town.”

“Spoken like a true detective.”

Her lips actually twitched. “I am a true detective.”

“Does that mean you’re officially off vacation?”

“Not officially, but I’ve made it clear to Cusack that I’m not backing away from this.”

“I should be done here by ten. Meet me at the bar in the Bicycle Club tonight.” Drake didn’t ask her. He told her. Whether or not she believed him, she apparently knew how to separate what they had started last night from the job stealing her focus now, and so could he.

She stared at him for a long moment and he saw the wall lower, saw the heat return to her eyes. She swallowed, bowed her head, and laughed. When she looked at him again, the hunger was back, and he knew she wouldn’t say no.

“I’ll be there.”

* * * *

Robert Warren lived on the sixth floor of the Gulf Towers apartment building directly across from the beach and a mere two miles down the strip from the M.P. Colton Aquarium. Megan studied the aging apartment building as she walked with Cusack through the lobby, past a small bar on the first floor, to the elevator that would take them up.

“I’m not ending your vacation,” Cusack told her as the elevator doors swished closed. “I’ll let you dig on your own time. I’ll allow you to tag along with me. I’ll keep you in the loop, but this is my case, and it will remain that way. Anything you find out gets reported to me. Got it?”

“Got it.” Megan glanced at him, knowing he wasn’t following protocol and surprised he wasn’t demanding she keep her nose out of the case. “And thanks.”

“You would never use your position to cover for someone. I know that. You’re going to be driven to find Paul’s killer because he meant so much to you. I know that, too. I also realize you know more about the people involved than anyone in the department. I still think you’re too close to the case, but, at the same time, I believe you have a level enough head to use it right.”

The elevator dinged as it stopped on the sixth floor, and the doors slid open. Cusack gestured for her to walk out first. The air in the hallway smelled musty. Dim lights cast shadows on chipped walls and stained carpet.

She scanned the numbers on the apartment doors as she walked down the hall, noting more chipped paint, broken locks, and patched peepholes. Given the progression of the casinos flanking the building and the nicer structures overtaking the strip, she didn’t expect the Gulf Towers to be standing much longer unless the owners dove into a major overhaul.

She stopped at apartment 629 and rapped sharply on the door. She heard shuffling from inside the apartment, voices speaking too low to be understood, and then the door opened with an eerie creak. Robert’s gaze landed on her first, and she noted the instant recognition in his eyes. His attention flicked to Cusack, the recognition twisting with a swirl of apprehension.

“Sergeant Jerry Cusack with the Biloxi Police Department,” Cusack said by way of introduction. “I believe you know Detective Megan Pontius. We would like to talk to you about Paul Colton’s murder. Mind if we come in?”

Robert didn’t say anything, but he stepped aside to allow them room to enter. Training and years on the force had Megan taking in the apartment in a glance. A wooden coffee table and matching end tables sat around a stained flower-print sofa. A tall glass cabinet enclosing an impressive collection of guns and knives occupied the closest wall next to a particle board entertainment center with a television set to a low volume. It was easy to see what topped Robert’s list of financial priorities. It also raised the question that if the man owned so many knives, why would he need to borrow one from someone else?

A bar divided the living room from the kitchen where a boney blonde stood at the sink with her back to the bar. Megan scanned the woman’s back, noted the short bob of blonde ringlets, and recognition hit in an instant. She shot a look at Cusack, gave an almost imperceptible jerk of her head toward Debbie Norman, and Cusack lifted a brow, clearly intrigued.

“Miss Norman.” Cusack stopped at the bar. “I didn’t expect to find you here, but I’m glad I did. I have a few more questions. Why don’t you join us?”

“You said you wanted to talk about my uncle’s murder. He was attacked by a shark,” Robert said, his tone deadpan. “Since when is that considered murder?”

“It isn’t, unless the victim is stabbed before the attack.”

Debbie gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she whirled from the kitchen sink. “Stabbed? How? By who?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Cusack answered.

Megan turned her attention to Robert. “The murder weapon, an Atomic Ti6 titanium-blade diver knife, was found in the grating around the tiger shark tank this morning with the initials D and R etched into the handle cap. Drake Allen has confirmed that it belongs to him. However, he says he loaned that knife to you a couple of weeks ago and you never returned it.”

“I put it in my locker in the employee room and forgot about it.” Robert lifted his boney shoulders. “When I cleaned out my locker yesterday after Paul fired me, it wasn’t there.”

“Who had access to your locker?” Cusack asked.

“Hell, anybody in that place.” Robert waved a dismissive hand in the air. “We never kept locks on them. There was never a reason to.”

“You and your uncle had quite an exchange of words yesterday afternoon.” Cusack pulled a small notebook and pen from his breast pocket and leveled his gaze on Robert.

“We had a fight,” Robert admitted cynically. “And he fired me, like I just said.”

“You threatened him,” Megan chimed in. “I believe ‘You’re the one that’s going to regret this, Uncle Paul. I’ll make sure you do,’ were your exact words.”

Robert crossed his arms and glared at her. “Yeah, I said that. I meant it, too. I knew Aunt Marie wouldn’t let him fire me without giving him hell about it.”

“Is that how you intended to make sure he regretted it?” Cusack asked, lifting one brow.

“Damn right it is. I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Megan leaned a shoulder against the wall behind her. “Where did you go after you left the facility yesterday afternoon?”

“I went to Aunt Marie’s. I told her what happened, stayed there for about an hour, and came home.”

Cusack jotted notes in his notebook, pausing to look up at Robert. “Did you leave again last night?”

“I went to the bar downstairs, had a few shots and a couple of beers, then came back up here and passed out on the couch. I didn’t wake up until this morning when Debbie got here and told me Uncle Paul was attacked last night.”

“So there’s no one who can verify that you didn’t leave this apartment after you came home?” Cusack asked.

“Not after I came back from the bar. Talk with the bartender. Her name is Eva. She’s probably down there working now. She can tell you I was there from around seven until sometime after ten.”

Seven to ten would give him a solid alibi for the time of Paul’s death. Megan nodded. “We’ll do that.”

“I didn’t like my uncle.” Robert straightened, shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts, and shrugged. “Everybody knows that. But I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t anywhere near that place last night.”

“What about you, Miss Norman?” Cusack turned to Debbie who still stood in the kitchen, but had stepped closer to the bar. “Have you remembered anything else about last night that you might not have told me? Did you see anyone else in the building besides Drake Allen and Brandon Easley?”

“N–no, no one.”

Megan narrowed her eyes as Debbie shook her head vehemently. Her instincts were kicking in, her gut screaming that the girl was hiding something.
But what?

“Why were you at the aquarium so late last night? Admission stops a half hour before closing. You wouldn’t have been selling tickets, and the gift shop shuts down when the main doors are locked.”

“I was getting a head start on inventory. That’s what I was doing when I heard Paul scream.” She shivered violently. “It was the worst sound I had ever heard. I knew Paul was in the tank room, and I ran. When I got there, I—Oh, God, the tiger shark was attacking him. He was h-hanging out of the shark’s mouth. I screamed. I don’t know if I stopped screaming. I tried to help him, but I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t get to him, couldn’t pull him out. Then Drake came running in and he dived into the tank. I helped him pull Paul out, and he yelled at me to call 911. By the time I got back to them, he said Paul was dead.”

* * * *

“She’s lying.” Megan waited until the elevator doors closed and she and Cusack were headed down to the main floor before she spoke. She turned, bracing a hand on the rail that lined the elevator, and stared at Cusack. “Maybe not about what happened after she heard Paul scream, but definitely about why she was still at the aquarium last night.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t think it, Jerry. I know it. Yesterday was the twelfth and a Friday. Inventory in the aquarium gift shop is always done the last day of the month unless it falls on a weekend.”

“She said she was getting a head start,” Cusack reminded her.

“There’s no reason to get a head start and certainly not this early in the month. The inventory in that place can be done in a day, two at the most. It’s also kept on a computer, organized to the max. There’s barely anything to it.”

Cusack slowly nodded. “Okay, so you think she was covering for Robert? You think she let him back in the building after hours last night?”

Megan stepped off the elevator and headed to the downstairs bar. She shot a glance over her shoulder to find Cusack close at her heels. “That all depends on whether or not Robert’s story checks out.”

She pulled open the door to the bar and walked inside the dimly lit place. Smoke filled the air, mingling with the scents of alcohol and stale beer. She quickly counted ten people in the room, scattered about at the tables and at the bar.

The bartender wore a scoop-neck blouse with a nametag that read Eva pinned over her left breast and she greeted Megan with a wide, toothy smile.

“What can I get for you?”

“Nothing, thanks. I’m Detective Megan Pontius with the Biloxi Police Department. I would like to ask you a couple of questions if you have a moment.”

Eva pursed her lips. “I’m sure I can spare a minute or two. What can I do for you?”

“Were you the bartender on duty last night?”

Eva nodded once. “I was.”

“And do you know Robert Warren? He lives upstairs in apartment 629.”

Eva nodded again. “Yeah, I know Robert. He’s in here all the time.”

Cusack propped an elbow on the bar. “Was he here last night?”

Eva slid her attention to Cusack, took him in with a slow, assessing gaze, and obviously liked what she saw. She sidestepped, stopping in front of Cusack, and leaned forward, offering him a view straight down her blouse. “Yeah, he was here, darlin’. He got real drunk, too. He was pounding down shots left and right, chasing them down with beer after beer.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully and hesitated for a heartbeat. “He’s all right, isn’t he? Nothing happened to him after he left, did it?”