Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2) (8 page)

“Sounds like they’re doing fine without me.”

“I don’t think so. Nick has his mind made up that Candace is guilty, and he hasn’t even questioned her yet.”

“Nick’s a good man. I doubt he’d come to that conclusion without good cause.”

“Humph. He’s tired and overworked and I’m afraid he’s taking the easy way out. By the way, I made soup for you today.”

“You made me soup?”

“Uh-huh. My mother’s specialty. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes. Now I’m even more disappointed about not being able to come home.”

“Well, it’s all gone. Ma and I ended up feeding it to Candace Jenkins and her kids.”

“That would be the murder victim’s family?” He sounded none too happy at the news.

“Right. They’re staying at my parents’ house.”

“Is that a good idea? If Nick thinks the wife killed him, your parents may be in danger.”

“I don’t think she did it. Besides, if she did kill her husband, it was because of his abusive behavior. It’s not like she’s a serial killer or anything.” Once again Angel’s thoughts shifted to Gracie, and once again she kept silent about the girl’s possible involvement.

“Let’s hope not. Anna is the kindest woman I know, but this wasn’t a wise move on either of your parts.”

“Callen, I don’t need a lecture.” She sighed, wishing she hadn’t brought it up.

“Sorry. I’m worried about you is all. Did this Jenkins guy leave a suicide note?”

“I don’t think so—at least not in plain view. Nick would have said something.”

“Do you know if they checked his computer?”

“I imagine they will.” Angel doubted Nick had. “Besides, he didn’t kill himself. The ME said he was murdered.”

“That may be, but they need to look at every possible angle. Someone may have written a note for him.”

“I agree. Maybe you should talk to Nick. Seems like he could use a mentor.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Could we talk about something else?” Angel asked. “We keep gravitating to murder.”

“Sure.” He chuckled. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. When are you coming home?”

“I’m hoping I can get away this weekend. I really want to get up there and talk to the guy who owns the abandoned car. There’s no doubt the victim was in that trunk.” Callen sighed.

“The owner lives here, in Sunset Cove?”

“Yeah, we’re checking him out.”

“Who is it? Maybe I can help.”

“Mitch Bailey.”

Angel raised her eyebrows in surprise. “No kidding. He’s been our family mechanic for years. Nice guy.”

“He’s not a suspect—at least not at this point. He reported his car stolen last week.”

“If he said it was stolen, then I’m sure it was. Mitch is a solid guy.” On the other hand, how well did she know him?

“Hmm. Like I said, I’ll be questioning him.”

“Is there anything I can do for you up here?” Angel said, then wondered if she should have.

After a moment’s silence Callen asked, “You applying for a job? Maybe as crime lab tech?”

“Not exactly.”

“Let me guess. You’re wishing you hadn’t extended your leave and had gone back to work at the PD.”

“No. I need more time away, but . . .” Angel hesitated. “I was thinking today about finding a different type of job. As strange as it may seem, law enforcement is the only thing that sounds appealing.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re a good cop. I know you have some decisions to make, but going into police work to please your father isn’t such a bad thing. Besides, knowing you, I really doubt that’s the case. You don’t strike me as the submissive type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that your father may have influenced you, but I doubt you’d have gone into law enforcement unless you really wanted to.”

“Maybe.” Angel chewed on her lower lip. “But what about my aversion to guns?”

“Normal reaction considering what you’ve been through.”

“Are you saying I should go back to work for the PD?”

“Not yet. It’s too soon.”

“Yeah,” Angel agreed. “It is.”

Out on the main road, Angel turned south toward Callen’s beach house. “Hey, I’m on my way to your place right now to take care of Mutt.”

“I feel terrible having to leave him alone so long. Should have brought him with me.” He sighed. “But then he’d have been cooped up in the hotel room.”

“You could always come back and get him tonight.” Angel was surprised at the longing she heard in her tone. “And you could see me at the same time. I could try making that soup again.”

“You have no idea how good that sounds. But I can’t.”

“It was just a thought. Anyway, don’t worry about Mutt. I’m taking good care of him. It’s you I’m worried about.” She thought again about driving down to Florence to see him, but she couldn’t leave now—not with Candace and the kids staying at her parents’ house.

“Angel, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Just thinking. I’m pulling into your driveway. If you want to hang on a minute, you can say hello to your dog.”

Mutt looked longingly at her through the picture window, wiggling and bouncing from the window to the door. When Angel finally got the door open, the white fluff ball pounced on her, licking and barking in delight. Angel laughed and leaned down to pick up the wriggling pup. “Hey, Mutt. Are you glad to see me? I have a surprise for you. Callen is on the phone. Want to say hi to him?”

She could have sworn Mutt nodded.

Chuckling, she put the phone to the dog’s ear. Mutt squirmed and whimpered at the sound of Callen’s voice, then barked his own greeting as if to chew his master out for not being there.

Angel put the phone back to her own ear. “I think he’s telling you to come home.”

Callen groaned. “I have a call coming in. I have to go. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Angel pressed the button to end the reception and slipped the phone into her pocket.

I love you too.
Had she really said
I love you
? The words had slipped out so naturally, as if they’d been saying them for a long time. Maybe in her heart she had. Sudden tears dripped onto Mutt’s silky white fur. The dog whined in sympathy and licked the tears away. Angel shook her head. “I know. I’m being ridiculous.” She pulled a slightly used tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose.

“Come on, dog. Let’s get you something to eat.” She set the wiggle worm on the floor and headed for the kitchen.

Minutes later, Angel sat on the couch watching Mutt devour his special blend. The dog eyed her warily as if he were afraid she’d leave him. When he’d gobbled up the food, he ran toward her and leaped into her lap. After thoroughly kissing her hands and face, he settled into a ball beside her and heaved an enormous sigh.

“You silly little thing. You’re lonesome, aren’t you? If I could have pets at my apartment, I’d take you home with me.” She stroked his head and back, feeling like an ogre at the thought of leaving him again. “Tell you what. How would you like it if I stayed here tonight?”

Mutt peered up at her, his tail whipping back and forth.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Mutt jumped off her lap and went to stand at the patio door. Good thing he was trained. She’d forgotten about taking him outside. She
took his leash off a peg by the door and slipped it onto his collar. Mutt charged ahead, leading the way over the dunes.

While Mutt did his job, Angel stood with her head tipped back, watching the stars overhead. The half-moon shone like a beacon, lighting up the waves with silver highlights.

The night was crisp and cool. She watched the whitecaps roll in, thinking of the times she and Callen had walked along this stretch of beach, and how much she wanted him beside her right now.

Once inside, Angel removed her jacket and hung it in the closet, then scoured the refrigerator for something to feed her own growling stomach. Callen, being the efficient chef that he was, had cleaned out everything perishable. The cupboards yielded a wide array of snacks, from roasted soybeans to rock-hard peas with a hot wasabi coating. Angel settled on a bag of microwave popcorn.

While it popped she borrowed a T-shirt from Callen’s dresser that would double as pajamas. Tomorrow she’d pack a bag. Maybe she’d stay until Callen came back. Mutt would love that.

The microwave beeped, and Angel padded barefoot to the kitchen to retrieve her snack. Once she’d poured herself a ginger ale, she settled into Callen’s recliner and used the remote to turn on the television set. The action brought back the image of Phillip Jenkins settling in with his popcorn and beer.

Had he known his killer? She suspected he must have, since there had been no sign of a struggle. Still, how could they know that for sure, since Candace had cleaned up the place? Had Jenkins invited someone over? Had he known what was coming? She thought again about the footprints that might have been tracked into the house. The prints Candace had mopped up.

Angel surmised that from where Phillip Jenkins had been sitting, he would have seen anyone coming into the room either from the kitchen or from the front door. Of course, all that was speculation. She’d have to take a closer look at the house to know for certain.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder. Had Candace removed a gun from his collection at an earlier time, hidden it upstairs, and waited for the right moment? Had she crept into the room while Phillip was absorbed in the game, shot him, placed the gun in his left hand, cleaned up the mess, then gone to pick up the kids?

Angel still had a hard time seeing the small, soft-spoken woman as a killer, but she’d been wrong before.

She thought again about the remote control and the snacks being on the right side of the chair and the gun being in his left hand. If Candace had killed him and if he was right-handed, wouldn’t she have placed the gun in his right hand? Not necessarily, but it was worth noting. She’d forgotten to mention her observation to Nick and promised herself she’d do so the next day. Not that he’d appreciate her opinion.

And what about Gracie? Where did she fit into all of this?

Why are you even thinking about it? Nick was right; dating a detective doesn’t make you one.

Detective or not, Angel felt a part of it. She had to know one way or another and planned to talk to both Candace and Gracie in the morning. Allegedly, neither had been home when Jenkins was shot. Candace had been shopping, Gracie at school. She’d have to check out their alibis.

Angel finally drifted off sometime around midnight, with Mutt curled up beside her. His occasional shifting and moaning along with thoughts of Jenkins and his killer kept Angel on the verge of sleep most of the night.

Morning came far too soon with Mutt barking and insisting she let him out and feed him. Angel dressed hurriedly in the clothes she’d worn the day before. At the patio door, she attached the leash to Mutt’s collar and slipped outside.

She was not in the mood to run or play, and told the dog so. Mutt seemed to understand, doing his business then heading back to the house. Of course, his lack of ambition may have been due to the relentless mist. After feeding him, Angel collected her jacket and left Mutt to fend for himself. “I’ll be back later. Try to stay out of trouble.”

Mutt barked and ran to the window to watch her go. Nose against the pane, he whined, his big liquid eyes pleading with her not to leave him. “I’m sorry, Mutt, but I can’t hang around here all morning.” She felt guilty leaving him, but what could she do?

Back in her apartment, Angel took a long, hot shower. As she stepped out of the bathroom her phone rang. She ignored it until
the answering machine beeped and she heard her mother’s frantic voice. “Angel, are you there? You are not going to believe what happened. Nick came by this morning and took Candace into custody. He read her her rights and cuffed her right in front of the children.”

“I want my mommy!” Dorothy wailed in the background.

“Angel.” The distress rose in Anna’s voice. “You have to do something.”

Angel picked up the phone. “I’m here, Ma. Calm down.” Angel figured Candace would be taken in, but not this soon or quite so dramatically. “He probably just wants to question her.”

“Angel Delaney. Your father was a police officer for thirty years. Don’t you think I know the difference? She’s been arrested like a common criminal.”

ELEVEN

T
he children are upset,” Anna said, “and I don’t blame them. Gracie insists she has to go to school. Brian and Dorothy are . . . well, Brian is just sitting there trying to take it all in. And poor little Dorothy. That’s her you hear crying.”

While her mother lamented, Angel padded to the walk-in closet. She grabbed clean jeans, a white turtleneck, and a burgundy sweater from the shelf.

“Calm down, Ma. It’s going to be okay.” Angel felt odd comforting her mother. Anna was usually calm and collected. Angel wished she’d taken Candace and the children to the shelter instead of her parents’ home. “Take a deep breath. We’ll handle this together, okay? I’ll come over and take the kids to school. We’ll have to find a place for them to stay.”