Saving Scott (Kobo) (12 page)

“Looks that
way.” Kovak opened a file folder. “Mike Connor—he’s our in-house lab
tech—processed the scene. He found a mug with some hot chocolate left in it.
Stomach contents confirmed Felicity Markham had been drinking hot chocolate.
Tests showed high levels of the same drug the ME found.”

“Why are you
saying homicide?” Scott asked. He wanted to hear Kovak’s take, although he had
his own suspicions.

“If she was
going to take her own life, why not swallow the pills? Why go to all the
trouble of mixing them into hot chocolate?”

Scott smiled
and nodded. “Agreed. Definitely looks more like homicide than suicide.” Scott
faced the chief. “How do you want to work this?”

“First hours
are critical. I’ll have your position covered. You go with Kovak. Remember.”
Laughlin pointed his pen at Scott. “You’re not a sworn officer. Consultant
only. Opinions, work through paper, whatever Kovak needs. When Detweiler gets
back, we’ll take another look.”

“Understood.”

Kovak rose
and offered his hand. “Welcome to the team.”

Kovak would
never know how good hearing those words felt. Scott shook the man’s hand. “Tell
me what you want me to do.”

Kovak led
him down the hall to the break room. The tables had been pushed back and a
large white board was set up against the far wall with the victim’s picture
taped near the top, in the center. “We’re setting up in here. Nothing fancy
like on those television shows.”

“Fancy doesn’t
mean better,” Scott said. “You don’t have to worry about a power failure or losing
an Internet connection.”

Kovak
stepped to the board and drew a horizontal line about a third of the way from
the bottom. “Okay, here’s our timeline.” He drew a vertical line and wrote “Elaine’s
studio, 16:30” near the far left. Near the far right, he added two more lines
and marked the first 0100 and the next 0400. “Now, all we have to do is fill in
everything in between.”

Scott
chuckled. “Looks like you’ve got a plan. Don’t see why you need me.”

“I figured
you were sick of filing and answering phones. Thought this might be more
interesting.” Kovak tossed the marker from hand to hand. “Seriously. It’s
always better to have a sounding board. Besides, if we don’t wrap this up fast,
Detweiler’s welcome home party is going to be in the middle of a war room.”

***

Ashley drove
past the bakery on her way to the parking lot. Her spirits, already buoyed by
Scott, lifted higher when she saw a man installing a new door. The claims
adjuster at Oregon Trust had promised a rush job, but she hadn’t expected it
this fast. She rounded the block, parked her car, and entered through the back
of the store, carrying the cleaning supplies she’d picked up earlier.

As she
walked through the space, the warm glow she normally got when she contemplated
her bakery wasn’t there. Even though the Klutz Brigade had been true to their
word about finishing, and even though she couldn’t see any evidence of a dead
body, she knew she wouldn’t be comfortable until she’d personally given the
floor a thorough disinfectant cleaning. Not only the floor. The entire kitchen.

“Hey there,”
the man installing the door called out. “You the owner?”

“I am.”

“I’m about
done. Gotcha a new lock.” He reached into a pocket of his blue coveralls and
pulled out a ring with several keys. “Hope you don’t mind, but the insurance
company wants to see ID before I hand ‘em over.”

“Not at all.”
Ashley showed the man her driver’s license, and he handed her the keys.

“Insurance
company said you wanted the back door locks rekeyed as well. I didn’t want to
do that until I had someone to give the keys to. I’ll get on it soon as I make
sure this door’s level.”

While she
waited, Ashley wiped down the kitchen, trying to regain that elusive warmth.
When the repairman finally left, she filled her bucket with water, squirted in
a healthy dose of cleanser and went back to her car to get the mop she’d left
there.

She’d shut
the car door when Maggie’s greeting filled the air. Ashley turned and managed a
smile.

“I’m glad I
caught you.” Maggie said. “So terrible about Felicity, isn’t it?”

You got
that right.

Maggie went
on. “I know Felicity had her shortcomings—don’t we all—but she was far too
young to die.”

Ashley had a
light bulb moment. Maggie’s endless varieties of teas came from Felicity’s
shop. She probably knew more about the woman than the cops did. The floor wasn’t
going anywhere. “Do you have time for some tea? Maybe we should have a cup—as a
tribute to her.”

“Of course.
What a wonderful idea.”

Ashley
followed Maggie through her shop. Jennifer looked up from a display of picture
frames she was dusting. “Terrible about Felicity, wasn’t it? Such a tragedy.
And in your bakery. What happened? “

Ashley
figured she’d better get some kind of answer rehearsed, as she’d probably be
hearing this one a lot. “I really don’t know. The police are investigating.”
She might need to work on her delivery, make it sound less flat, because it
was
a tragedy, and to belittle it because it was creating problems for her bakery’s
opening seemed petty.

“We’ll be in
back,” Maggie said, “having a cup of tea in Felicity’s honor. I’ll let you know
when it’s ready, and you can join us.”

While Maggie
waited for the water to come to precisely the right temperature for whatever
tea she’d chosen, she arranged cups on the table. “I actually have the last of
the cookies I bought at Felicitea. It would be fitting to have them with the
tea.”

“Tell me
what you know about Felicity,” Ashley prompted. “Do you know any reason someone
might have killed her? Or that she’d commit suicide? And why she’d do it in my
shop?”

Maggie
checked her water thermometer and removed the kettle from the hot plate. As she
poured the steaming liquid into the small blue teapot, she frowned. “It somehow
seems wrong to say anything negative about her.” She set a timer. “Two minutes.”

“But knowing
how or why she died could help. It might even give meaning to her death.”

Maggie
stared at her. “Do you think she was murdered?”

Ashley
shrugged. “Scott said she died from an overdose of painkillers.”

Maggie’s
brow wrinkled. “I find that hard to believe. If she had a headache, she was
reluctant to take as much as an aspirin. She was always touting her organic
ingredients, and fresh, local produce in her salads.”

“What about
an injury? You know, where a doctor would prescribe painkillers. Maybe her
system wasn’t used to them, or she was overly sensitive.”

“But why in
your bakery?” Maggie’s timer went off and she poured the tea, setting a cup in
front of Ashley. She moved to the doorway and told Jennifer the tea was ready.

“No clue. I
thought she might have said something to you. I know she wasn’t happy about me
opening up the bakery.”

Jennifer
slipped in and picked up her tea from the table. She raised her cup. “To
Felicity.”

They sipped
in silence. Jennifer took a cookie from the plate Maggie had set out. She chewed
thoughtfully. “I wonder if Sleazeball came back. He did have a temper.”

“What?”
Ashley almost choked on her tea. “Sleazeball? Who’s Sleazeball?”

Jennifer
didn’t seem to notice Maggie’s stern expression. “More like which one? Felicity
did have bad luck with men. Remember Biker Dude from Colorado?”

“We’re not
here to speak ill of the dead,” Maggie said. “We should be celebrating her
life.”

Jennifer
reached for another cookie and held it aloft. “She did make excellent lemon sugar
cookies.”

“That she
did,” Maggie said.

“Would she
have killed herself over a man?” Ashley asked.

Jennifer
shook her head. “Not her style. She’d find another one. Or two.”

The door
chimes tinkled. Jennifer devoured another cookie. “I’d better get out front.”

After
Jennifer left, Maggie tutted. “That girl. She’s excellent in the shop, but she
does have an overdeveloped penchant for the dramatic.”

Ashley
refrained from saying anything about Maggie’s own penchant for knowing what was
going on. After all, that’s why Ashley was here. “I agree about focusing on the
good at a time like this, but don’t you think we should share what we know
about Felicity with the police? It might help them figure out why she died
sooner.”

“You’re
right, I suppose. But so much of what one hears is rumor, and tends to be
exaggerated.”

“But if we
give the police a few leads, that wouldn’t really be spreading rumors, would
it? They’d check them out and discover the facts.”

Maggie
sighed. “Oh, I do wish Sarah was back already. Not that Kovak doesn’t know what
he’s doing, but when Sarah was accused of smuggling, she and Randy worked
together to solve the crime. Since they’ve been together, she’s learned to
think like a detective. Ah, well. They’ll both be back tomorrow, and I’m sure
between Randy and Kovak, they’ll have this wrapped up in no time.”

“My new
neighbor used to be a detective,” Ashley said. “He works at the station now,
but as a civilian. I can tell him about Felicity’s boyfriend troubles. He’d
know how to feed the information to the cops, and he said he’d keep me up to
speed with whatever he’s allowed to tell me.”

“That sounds
like a good idea.” Her eyes twinkled. “And who is this new neighbor? Anyone
interesting? Aside from him being a former detective, of course, which is
interesting in itself.”

Before
Ashley got bogged down in discussing Scott with Maggie—and Ashley was positive
Maggie would ferret out the attraction Ashley herself wasn’t sure about—the
phone rang. While Maggie took the call, Ashley finished her cookie. Jennifer
hadn’t exaggerated. Ashley rolled the bite over her tongue, trying to recreate
the recipe in her mind. She could see dipping one end of the cookie into white
chocolate. She’d name them after Felicity. Her kind of tribute.

Maggie
rushed to the office door and called to Jennifer. “Take care of things, please.
I have to get to the Women’s Center right now. Lorna’s having a crisis.”

“What about
Ashley Eagan?” Kovak wrote her name on the white board. “She’s got keys, so
there’s opportunity. She claims she was home in bed, but she lives alone.
Nobody to corroborate her story.” Kovak narrowed his eyes at Scott.

Scott
ignored the obvious innuendo. “What did she say when you talked to her?”

Kovak
scraped his fingers along his jaw. “Haven’t managed to see her yet. What I have
is what Brody reported.”

“Can’t buy
her as the killer.” Scott tried to present a neutral front. Naturally, since
the body had been discovered in Ashley’s bakery, she’d have to be questioned,
and he tried to tell himself that it was simply good detective work. That he’d
do the same if he were investigating. And that’s what Kovak was doing.

Kovak seemed
to be a good cop, a good detective. Scott accepted his role as sounding board,
offering suggestions when Kovak asked. Any traces of Kovak’s hero worship had
vanished, and Scott found himself settling into familiar territory.

Scott’s
stomach protested at another sip of cold, stale coffee. He welcomed it. “I’ve
known her a couple of days. But her livelihood depends on the success of the
bakery. My gut says she’s telling the truth. There have been construction foul
ups, and I’ve seen the way they’ve shaken her. It makes no sense for her to do
anything to interfere with her business.”

Kovak wrote “Keys”
on the board and drew a line to Ashley’s name.

So much for
a neutral front. “If we’re brainstorming, I’m going to play Devil’s Advocate no
matter who you’re talking about.”

Kovak
smiled. “That’s usually my role when the big guy and I hash things out. Protest
away.”

“If it’s
keys, why not the contractor? For all we know, he could have had dupes made, or
loaned them to any of his crew.”

“Got it.
Kovak wrote in his notebook. “I’ll be checking with the local locksmiths and
hardware stores—anyone who makes keys.”

Scott
nodded. Kovak wrote “Drugs” on the board. “Who had access to painkillers?”

Suppressing
a smile, Scott reflexively patted his pocket. He did, for one. “One of the
workers broke an arm, according to Ashley. He might have left his pills lying
around.”

“Did he come
back to work after his arm was broken?” Kovak wrote another note, then wrote
Carl’s name on the board. “This guy’s disappearing act makes my skin itch. I’ve
got extra patrols keeping an eye on his house.”

“What about
his neighbors? Family? Anyone who might know his usual haunts?”

“On my list.”
Kovak wrote Elaine’s name on the board and tapped it with the marker. “I’ll be
talking to her, too. Brody says you were in the studio with Miss Eagan, that
there was some sort of outburst.”

Scott
relayed what he’d observed. “I’d say the harsh words were triggered by the
victim running into Ashley and seeing a perceived business conflict. I don’t
think that was her reason for coming to the studio.”

“You don’t
know what that reason was?”

Scott shook
his head. “When you talk to Elaine Rathburn, you’ll have to ask her. She
intimated that the victim owed her money.”

Kovak’s
eyebrows lifted. He wrote a large dollar sign next to Elaine’s name. “Guess I’ll
have to check the victim’s financials more closely. Her personal life, her
business. More red tape and paperwork.”

“I believe
the chief said you could foist some of those tasks on me.”

Kovak
grinned. “Consider them foisted.” He checked his notes, and his expression
sobered. “Seriously. How do you know where to start?”

“I always
start with the victim. Understand her life, and you can find reasons for her
death.”