Hot Coco (17 page)

“Good morning, Kate,” he said. “What can I do for you?” When she turned, those beautiful, blue eyes caught his breath.

“Hello, Carl, how’ve you been?”

Wishing for something stronger and a cigarette to boot, he looked into the contents of his mug. “I’m good. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Good question.
She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted from the lieutenant, or if he could help her at all. Last night, her father’s face was a killer after Margie bolted from the house. His face was pale. He closed himself in the study for hours. She hadn’t seen him so overwrought since, well, since her mother died ten years ago.

When they had heard of the vandalism done to Jen Fleming’s place last evening, they were shell-shocked. She couldn’t believe Margie would lash out so destructively against Jen or anyone.

It was a terrible situation at best, and she didn’t know who to turn to until she remembered how gentle Lugowski had been when she needed help before. She remembered how his soothing voice had comforted her while they sipped coffee at McDonald’s several months ago. Tall and slender, he was a kind man. His jaw was square and strong, and his broad shoulders carried the weight of the many victims he tended, lost, and mourned.

What is he doing with Ava? But then again, why did Mike marry her. Ava possesses a power over even the most alpha males. I wish I had that kind of power over men ... or not.

Not at all sure where she was going with it, Kate told him about Margie. She explained how her father had been tutoring her, and that Margie’s interest went beyond the books without her father realizing it. She told him about Jen’s tires, and her broken window, and about the notes that were found at both of the vandalisms. She also clarified that she couldn’t imagine Margie being capable of such acts, and that surely there was some kind of mistake, or perhaps a cruel joke. She alsoinformed him that the police had possession of Margie’s clipboard and tablet.

Leaning back in his chair, Lugowski listened vigilantly to Kate’s story while trying like hell to avoid eye contact. The sound of her voice and the movement of her hands in his peripheral vision was taking its toll. As he did months before when she needed his help, he was having the same problems focusing.

God, she drove him crazy, but in a totally different way than Ava did. Ava was sensual in a careful-when-playing-with-matches sort of way. That was a turn-on that any man could understand. Kate was sexy in a this-one’s-a-keeper sort of way. That was the kind of turn-on that confuses and scares the hell out of men.

“
It sounds like the damage done to the window and the tires will elevate the charges from a misdemeanor to a felony. But I don’t understand what you want me to do, Kate. I’m homicide. I don’t handle criminal mischief cases,” he said with regret and a tug of relief.

“Can’t you talk to her? You have a way of questioning people …victims, that isn’t …Well, threatening.” She urged a soft smile. “I remember.”

He remembered, too. The first time he looked into those eyes, they were filled with terror. Again, the urge to care for her was overpowering. He didn’t know what that was about. He’d handled many victims over his career. But Kate was … different.

What she was asking him to do now wouldn’t be well received. “I wish I could help. But, as I said, I’m a different department. Those guys would be pissed as hell, if I stepped onto their turf.”

She sat back in the chair with a sigh. “I understand.” She patted his arm. “Thanks anyway, Carl.”

While watching her walk out of the squad room, he reached for a pack of cigarettes from his desk drawer, tucked one in his lip, and then headed for Captain Lutz’s office.

Shit, I wish I could light the damned cigarette. I can’t believe what the hell I’m about to do.

Margie had never been so terrified. Her hands were shaking. Her mouth was dry.
If this is the world that Eric West was hoping to open-up for me, I’ll pass. Thank … You … Very … Much!

The officer had been dead quiet in the cruiser. That was okay. She was too busy trying not to hyperventilate behind the cage in the back seat. After reaching the police station, she was fingerprinted and stuck in a small dank room. That is where she had been sitting for several hours. It seemed like an eternity.

The door knob rolled and the door jerked open.

A tall wisp of a man walked in and sat down at the table. He was followed by a frighteningly thin woman. Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She wore a white blouse and black slacks. Looking pissed as hell, she leaned against the door with her arms folded over her chest.
Thank God, she’s not mad at me. She’s mad at the man. Weird. Cops tend to be a tight-knit group, like it is on TV.

The man took a moment to read the file in his hand before glancing up at her. He smiled. “Margie, I’m Lieutenant Lugowski.” He hitched a chin toward the glowering woman. “And that’s Detective Stewart. I spoke with Eric West a little while ago. He told me that you were at his house last evening.” His voice was quiet and calm. His eyes looked like he hadn’t slept in days, but there was a gentle demeanor behind his tortured appearance.

“Yes, I was,” she replied.

“Can you think of anyone who would vandalize Miss Fleming’s property, and make it look like you’d done it?”

“You don’t think I did it?”

“No, I don’t,” he said.

Detective Steward couldn’t suppress an eye roll.

“I didn’t do anything to Miss Fleming, and I don’t know who did.”

He glanced up at Stewart. “Let her go.”

Margie thought the woman was going to fall over. Instead she sprang into total bitch mode.

“Seriously, Lugowski?” Stewart asked through clenched teeth. “Are you forgetting that we’ve got the tablet with the matching paper from the notes with her prints all over them?”

“Great. You’ve got physical evidence of her property. But you can’t put her at either scene.”

“I’m sure we can find something to hold her on for a few more hours, until we—”

“Calm down, Stewart.” Lugowski held up the file bearing one sheet of paper. “Look. Not so much as a traffic ticket. She’s not a murder suspect. She’s got an alibi. Let … her … go.”

Glaring, Stewart yanked the door open and motioned for Margie to exit. She held her daggers tight on the lieutenant. “So pulled some strings with Captain Lutz, did ya?” She lowered her voice to a grouse. “Tell me, what brings you amongst us lowly run-of-the-mill, everyday, crime detectives? Bored with your bad boy murderers, Lugowski?”

He gathered the minuscule file from the table and followed Margie to the door where he tossed the detective a dry look. “Bitter? Get therapy and get over it, Stewart.”

After Lugowski united Margie with her father and saw them to their car, he made his way through the sea of surly faces in the station. He tugged a cigarette from his jacket pocket and pressed through the doors. He flicked his butane lighter and lifted it to the cigarette when he noticed Kate leaning a hip against the railing on the front steps of the station. A light breeze wisped through her glimmering hair. She looked the way she always looked to him. Damned tasty.

She smiled. “Thanks, Carl.”

Hoping the nicotine would steady the stir, he took a long drag from the cigarette. It didn’t. “Looks like you owe me, Miss West,” he noted with a playful smirk.

Kate took note of the surprising grin.
Lugowski’s smirking. Funny. Everyone says he’s physically unable to smile, smirk, or grin. Everyone’s wrong. His smirk is down-right boyish, cute ... for a homicide cop, anyway.

“Hmmm, what an awkward position to be in.” She returned the grin.

“Not for me.” He blew the smoke out his nostrils, tossed her a wink, and strolled toward his SUV.

Sixteen

E
ric slammed the phone onto its base. It was the night of the benefit dance at Keystone Downs Convention Center. He’d been looking forward to taking Jen. With her, all dressed up and looking like a beauty queen, on his arm; he knew every man in the room would envy him.

Since the mix-up with Margie, he had been unable to focus. During the past week, he had tried to contact her, but she hadn’t been at the track. Doug had been mysteriously absent as well.

During Eric’s visits to the O’Conner stable, Scott had been indifferent to say the least. The kid refused to make eye contact with him. As if he had been submerged deep in thought, Scott continued to pitch manure into a wheelbarrow. He acted as if Eric didn’t exist. For a brief moment, he would hesitate in his chore and look up like he wanted to tell him something; but then, it seemed as though he swallowed it down and changed his mind. After that, Eric couldn’t pry answers, or even a passing glance, from him.

With the scene in his study running through his head, the guilt coiled in Eric’s gut. He was sure Jen had noticed. She kept asking him if something was wrong. He denied it, but she knew. He knew she knew.

Dressed in a black suit, his white shirt unbuttoned, and his necktie dangling loose, he sat on the edge of his bed. Scrubbing his fingers across his freshly shaven face, he shuffled to the mirror that was mounted on the wall over his dresser. Hiking his chin, he began the task of adjusting his tie.

“Knock, knock.” Kate stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

Eric smiled at his lovely daughter, who was wearing a glittering midnight blue halter gown. Her blonde hair was gathered on her head in a French twist. The diamond stud earrings in her lobes winked at him in the soft light of the room. “Don’t you look beautiful?”

Kate returned his smile. “Trying to make sure you take note of things?”

He returned to the mirror and his tie. “Kinda.”

Watching her father’s sullen expression in the mirror, she sank onto the bed. “Can’t get a hold of Margie?”

“Nope, I’ll keep trying. We have to get this ironed out.” The tie wasn’t cooperating. He seemed to be all thumbs this evening. He flipped the ends of the tie this way and that until he finally left them to dangle around his neck in surrender.

Kate came to her father’s aid. She took the ends of the tie in her hands to form a proper knot at the base of his throat. “Do you think she’s capable of doing those things to Jen?”

“No, I don’t,” he answered, “but someone sure did. All of this over a little misunderstanding.”

“A little misunderstanding to you. This was huge to her, Dad.”

“I know that, Kate. I’m sure once she’s settled down, and I get a chance to calmly explain, she’ll understand.”

Kate urged a half-smile. “I hope you’re right. But, Dad, if she did those things; I know Jen’ll press charges.”

Dangerously dapper in a navy pinstriped suit, Shane leaned in the door. “Kate, your date is here. I’m leaving to pick up Rachel.” They had no clue who Rachel was. She was probably one of the many standing in line for Shane’s attention

Kate smiled to herself.
One of these days he’s going to grow up, and some woman’s going to bring him to his knees and put a swift end to his playboy ways—some woman that he least expected
.
What a grand day that would be.

He winked at his sister. “Hey, you don’t clean up half bad.” With that, he skedaddled down the hall.

Smooth operator.
Kate giggled. “Oh, he’s such a ... Shane.” She kissed her father’s cheek. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the dance.” She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t let this ruin your evening with Jen.”

His mouth turned upward while he watched her dress whirl, and glitter, and float around her when she glided out of his room.
I am truly a blessed man to have such a beautiful daughter who cares so much for me, and two strong vibrant sons to carry on the West name, and the proud racing tradition of Westwood Farm. Blessed.

He picked up the phone and dialed again. After listening to the ring on the other end, he released a frustrated sigh before hanging up, gathered his car keys from the nightstand, and went out the door.

This is Jen’s evening. She doesn’t deserve to have it marred by my frustration or guilt. I need to focus on her. Hey, how hard could that be? She’s a knock-out.

Jen smoothed the ginger-n-spice lipstick over her lips. She sat back in her vanity chair to admire her handiwork. She had plans for her lips tonight—especially after the dance. In the mirror, she practiced her come-hither smile that she was going to nail him with.

Tonight was her night. She owned it. She had earned it. She wasn’t going to let Margie O’Conner interrupt it for one second.

Once she had Eric in the door, it would be straight to the bedroom. No detours. She didn’t want him in the living room with the boarded-up window. It would only make him feel bad, and that wasn’t what she wanted him to feel tonight
. Oh, no, tonight it’s going to be about the two of us between my cool blue sheets. Mmm, it will be so good feeling the heat, and the sensual friction between our naked bodies. Tonight is going to be about unbridling the intimacy I’ve been fantasizing about for so long.

The Miracle Bra she was wearing pushed a pleasing cleavage from her satin emerald gown’s sweetheart neckline. She dabbed a touch of perfume between her breasts and smiled about the bra’s perky performance.
Oh, yes, tonight will be the night.

The enormous ballroom was decked-out with pink, blue, purple, and white helium balloons that floated, bumped, and danced along the high ceiling. Draped in white linen, each table sported huge arrangements of pink calla lilies in glass vases in its center. A Michael Buble song played in the background while guests chatted, laughed, and enjoyed hors d’oeuvres served by waiters.

Mike was with an attractive brunette that Kate had insisted he would “get along with very well,” whatever that meant. He had hoped to be at the dance with Coco. After she took up with Tom Mason, Mike decided to stay home and do some paperwork. Kate wasn’t having it. Ignoring his objections and always knowing what was best for the West men, she had made a phone call.