Saving Scott (Kobo) (32 page)

Detweiler
swung the white board around and added those notes. “If she’s spent her life
hiding her sexual orientation, she’s probably an accomplished liar.”

“So you
think Felicity Markham knew Belinda’s secret. She was hard up for cash.
Blackmail?” Scott said.

“Workable.”
Detweiler added “blackmail” to the white board.

“Have we
checked Belinda Nesbitt’s financials?” Scott asked.

Kovak shot
him a look. “You think we have cause?”

Scott
shrugged. “Work it the other way. From the victim’s side. If you can hook
anything to Belinda Nesbitt, you might convince a judge to let you look.”

“On it.”
Kovak sat at the computer and began clicking.

“I’m going
to work in the office,” Detweiler said to Scott. “I’ll take our dead guy, and
you can keep working the Belinda Nesbitt angle.” He gestured toward the stack
of papers, which seemed to have multiplied overnight.

“I thought I’d
cross-reference Belinda Nesbitt and her maybe partner. I’ll need a computer for
that,” Scott said.

Kovak stood,
relinquishing the one in the room. “I can work in the office, too.”

With the
room to himself, Scott went to the white board and added Crystal Gosselin’s
name. She might be another way in.

“Another
day, another search,” he muttered to himself as he pecked at the keyboard. He
figured he might as well start with the official databases.

He’d barely
entered her name into the NCIC database to see if she had a record when Kovak
blew into the room. “You’re not going to believe this. Come on.” Kovak spun and
rushed away.

Scott exited
the database and hurried after Kovak. When he got to the detectives’ office,
Detweiler had the phone to his ear. He nodded at Scott. “Hang on, Doc. Let me
put you on speaker. Scott Whelan’s with us now.”

“Hi,
Charlotte. Things dead enough in the morgue that you have time for us?”

“Enough with
your sick jokes, former Detective Whelan. I’m thinking there will be a good
bottle of wine in this for me.”

“What do you
have?” Scott asked. “You didn’t cut already, did you?” He assumed that she’d
have contacted Detweiler or Kovak, as the
real
cops on the case, yet the
detectives hadn’t said anything about it.

“No, but I
wanted to eliminate the connection between your bodies. I put a rush on a tox
screen.”

Scott’s
brain sped through the logic. “But you didn’t eliminate it.”

“No, sir.
Same drug that we found in your first victim. Adding that to the same kind of
cocoa in his stomach, I’d say the odds are very much against a coincidence.”

Scott threw
a wide-eyed glance in the direction of the phone.

“Any
progress on ID?” Detweiler asked.

“Not yet. I’ve
sent the DNA to CODIS with a rush request, but it’ll still be a while. It’s a
long shot since we didn’t get hits on his prints. However, I did find something
in his pockets.”

“What?”
Kovak asked.

They’d done
a cursory search at the scene, but given the mutilation and the blood-soaked clothes,
they hadn’t bothered beyond that. Made more sense to wait until the body got to
the morgue, and they could dry out the clothing in the crime lab. Less risk of
destroying evidence.

“A piece of
paper. Stuck inside the back pocket of his jeans. We almost missed it. It was
bloody, but we managed to get it dried out. The writing is faded, but legible.
An address.” She read it off.

Scott’s
heart pounded. Ashley’s bakery. He looked to Detweiler and Kovak who clearly
recognized it as well.

“So, our
second victim’s cause of death is the same as the first, and he’s carrying
around the address of where we found the first victim.” Detweiler said.

“Sounds to
me like we’re looking at one case.” Kovak drummed his fingers on the desk.

“Agreed,”
Charlotte said.

“Anything
else, Doc?” Detweiler asked.

“Not yet.
But I’ll bump this one to the top of the line. If we’re looking at a serial
killer, I’m thinking you want to catch him.”

Despite the
seriousness of the topic, Scott recognized the teasing in Charlotte’s tone. “Well,
duh.”

“Tell me
when you’re cutting, and I’ll be there,” Detweiler said.

“I should be
ready by one,” Charlotte said. “And I’m not going to wait.”

“Understood.”
Detweiler hung up the phone.

Scott
debated going along to observe. He knew it would be more important for
Detweiler or Kovak, as sworn officers, to be on record as being present when
the case went to court. However, he knew Charlotte wouldn’t ban him from the
autopsy. But despite his itching to be part of things, that would be pushing
the scope of what Chief Laughlin had authorized him to do.

“You want me
to bring Ashley Eagan in again?” Kovak asked.

“No reason
we can’t question her at her place,” Scott said, pointedly using “we.” No way
was he going to be left out entirely. The question was, would Ashley let him be
there? He was tempted to call her, give her a heads up. Which would be
tantamount to tampering with an investigation.

“Works for
me. Maybe she’ll recognize the victim. Not that there’s a whole lot left to go
on.” Detweiler said.

Scott suppressed
a shudder as he thought of Ashley looking at the crime scene photos. “Do you
think Charlotte has pictures of the victim in a more … sanitized version? Might
help with recognition.”

Detweiler
picked up the phone. “I’ll call her back and ask.”

While
Detweiler talked with Charlotte, Scott spoke to Kovak. “Let’s not forget that
Belinda Nesbitt had access to Ashley’s bakery. Finding the bakery address on
the victim ties him to the location, not necessarily to Ashley. Belinda’s got
motive, means, and opportunity.”

“You’re
right. We should show the pictures to Belinda Nesbitt as well,” Kovak said. “I,
for one, want to see her reaction.”

Detweiler
hung up. “Charlotte’s emailing me some pictures.” He addressed Scott. “Do you
know if Ashley is working today?”

“She should
be. She’s trying to get everything ready for her bakeoff tomorrow. And I assume
Belinda Nesbitt will be working as well. She’s higher on my list than Ashley.”

Detweiler’s
computer dinged. “That’ll be Charlotte’s email.” He tapped a few keys and
seconds later, the printer spat out several pages. Detweiler glanced at them,
then put them in an envelope. “Let’s go. I’d like to talk to them both before I
have to leave for the autopsy.”

Scott didn’t
hesitate. Didn’t give them a chance to tell him to stay here and run searches
or dig through paper. “Ready when you are.” He waited in the doorway.

If Detweiler
had any objections, he didn’t voice them.

“Who first?”
Kovak asked as they drove to the building that housed both establishments.
Scott kept his mouth shut, trying to maintain the illusion that he was an
objective observer.

“Let’s start
with Belinda Nesbitt,” Detweiler said. “Show her the pictures.”

Kovak opened
the door to The Happy Cook, holding it while Scott and Detweiler entered the
shop. Scott looked at Belinda, her ruffled apron, curly brown hair and upturned
nose giving her a “girl next door” look. Nothing about her said
gay,
but
Scott knew better than to make assumptions based on appearance.

Belinda
chatted with a customer—the lone one in the shop—as she rang up her purchases.

“Thanks, and
come again,” Belinda said. The customer nodded to the men as she left.

Detweiler
strode forward. “Hello, Miss Nesbitt. We have a few more questions.”

“Three of
you?” she said, stepping out from behind the counter. “Must be serious. I
thought we’d already covered everything. What else can I tell you?”

Smooth,
Scott thought. Not volunteering anything.

“You may
have heard that another body was discovered last night,” Detweiler said.

No surprise,
but no guilty reaction, either. Simple curiosity.

“I did. On
the news this morning. What does that have to do with me?” A flash of concern
swept across her face. “Or are you here to tell me I might be in danger?”

“No, nothing
like that, although due diligence is always wise. Right now, we’re trying to
identify him,” Detweiler said. “Do you mind looking at a few pictures?”

“If you
think it’ll help.” She shoved her glasses up her nose. “Are they … gross? The
news said he’d been eaten by dogs.”

“Not really
eaten,” Kovak said. “But there was some damage, yes.”

She wiped
her hands on her apron. “All right. Show me.” She took the pictures, gingerly
at first, as if they might be contaminated.

Scott
watched her reaction. A little of the expected aversion, but nothing that
indicated she recognized the victim.

“No, I’m
sorry. I can’t place him. I’m sure I don’t know him personally.”

“A customer,
maybe?” Kovak said.

Belinda gave
a snorting laugh. “I don’t get too many men in here. This guy doesn’t look like
the gourmet kitchen sort.” She extended the photos.

Detweiler
put them in the envelope. “Thanks, and sorry to put you through this.”

“One last
question,” Scott said. “How well do you know Crystal Gosselin?”

Now
that
got a reaction. Even someone at the kindergarten level of reading body language
could tell Belinda was caught off guard. And that she definitely knew Crystal
Gosselin. Very well. She looked away, clearly regrouping.

“I … um … the
name’s familiar. I think she’s shopped here before.” A pause. “Why do you ask.”

“Just something
we’re following up on,” Scott said. “Thanks for your time.”

The men
regrouped outside the shop. “That went well,” Kovak said. “Maybe one of us
should go interview Ms. Gosselin.”

“I’m sure
the surprise factor will be long gone,” Detweiler said. He peeked through the
window. “Belinda Nesbitt is already on the phone. Anyone think it’s
not
Ms. Gosselin she’s calling?” He paused a half second. “Didn’t think so. Let’s
deal with Ashley Eagan first.”

Torn between
the worlds of cop and civilian, neighbor and lover, Scott followed them next
door.

Ashley
responded to their knock, avoiding eye contact with Scott as she let them in.
As he had with Belinda, Detweiler explained why he was asking Ashley to look at
the photos.

Scott’s
stomach clenched when there was no doubt she recognized the man.

***

Ashley’s
head spun. Was this what Porky the Reporter meant when he said the cops would
be here soon? But how would he know?

Still
staring at the picture, she half-stumbled to a seat. A hand supported her
elbow, helping her sit. She gazed into Randy’s concerned face.

“Is this the
man you found?” she asked when she felt she could speak without her voice
quavering. “The one they were talking about on the news?”

“You know
who he is?” Randy asked. “He had this address in his pocket.”

“Sort of. I
don’t know his name, but I’m almost positive he’s one of the Klutz Brigade—I
mean, one of the construction workers.”

“Address in
his pocket could have been there some time,” Scott said. “Charlotte said it was
faded.”

Scott stood,
leaning against the far wall. When she glanced his way, he gave her a
noncommittal nod. Was he here as a cop, or making sure she was being treated
fairly? He’d said he’d have removed himself from the case if he were really a
cop. Yet here he was, acting like a cop.

She
concentrated on Randy instead. “I’m sure Carl would know who this is. Or any of
the other workers. Willie Duncan, or someone at The Tool Shed, if you can’t
reach Carl.”

“We’ll do
that,” Randy said. “We appreciate your help.”

“Whatever
will make this go away,” she said. “I have a question for you, if you don’t
mind.”

Randy
nodded.

“A few
minutes ago, a reporter from the
Bee
was here. He said the two deaths
were connected. Are they? I got the feeling he was fishing.”

Randy
scowled. “Vossler again. Damn the man.” Randy and Detective Kovak exchanged one
of their cop looks. “He did? Did he say how, or where he got his information?”

“No. He said
he had it on good authority, but didn’t name names. That’s why I didn’t think
he really knew. I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Very good,”
Detective Kovak said. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Does this
mean I’m free to go ahead with my bakeoff? No yellow tape? I don’t have to go
to the station again?”

“No need,”
Kovak said. “Good luck with your bakeoff.”

She stood
and managed a smile. “I hope you’ll stop by. All of you.”

Scott left
with the others, not sparing a farewell glance in her direction. She gave up
trying to figure him out.

She went to
her car for the poster boards she’d bought. Carrying them across the parking
lot, she realized they’d look a lot better if she used a paper cutter to trim
them to size. Maybe Sarah had one. She was always creating gorgeous window
displays and signs.

After
dropping the boards of in her shop, Ashley went next door to That Special
Something. She stopped inside the door. Porky the Reporter was at the counter
talking to Sarah, and she didn’t look the least bit happy about it.

Ashley
almost retreated, but Porky had turned at the sound of the door chimes. He
smirked in her direction. Jennifer appeared from the back room and approached
her. “Hi, Ashley. Need something?”

Ashley kept
her voice low when she asked her question, more to try to eavesdrop than
because she didn’t want Porky to know she was borrowing a paper cutter—as if he’d
care.

Jennifer
grinned. “Sure. I’ll get it for you.”

When
Jennifer returned with the cutter, Ashley asked her what was going on with
Porky.