The Crime Writer

"Take her kicking and screaming and subdue her after?" I asked. Kaden shrugged, so I added, "What kind of struggle?"

"Sheets dragged off the mattress, stuff knocked from the night-stand, alarm clock lost its battery at ten twenty-seven."

"How old-fashioned."

"A battery-operated alarm clock?"

"The clue."

"You have a suspicious mind."

"Let's make use of it."

"We're not gonna invite a key suspect to dick around in our investigation."

"You don't need to invite me anywhere. Just let me look at photos from the scene. See the body, how it was left. Maybe something'll trip my memory."

"Memory of what?" Kaden eyed me, then tapped Delveckio on the knee with his file. "Let's go."

"Whether you believe me or not, I don't know what happened the night of September twenty-third. And whether you believe me or not, I want to know if I did it. You need answers. You're professional interrogators. I assume you're capable of getting what you want from me without giving up what you don't want to."

Kaden stared at me, then chuckled and tossed the file on the table, the papers spilling out. I spread them across the surface. They were laser printouts, pretty good resolution, with multiple duplicates of each shot.

Kasey Broach's naked body had been dumped under a concrete freeway on-ramp. She lay on her back, chin tossed up and to the side as if she were trying to flip the hair from her face. A nasty abrasion mottled her right hip, and the skin looked split on her right cheek. Her wrists were bound with tape, her ankles with white rope. Around her, weeds pushed up from cracked asphalt. The skeleton of a fence remained in the background, chain-link sloughed from three remaining posts. A beater of a coupe sagged on slashed tires, windows smashed in, roof dented down to the headrests, hood dense with bird shit. Behind it on the sloping underbelly of the ramp, a graffiti artist had abandoned a work in progress.

A close-up showed Broach's arms spotted with marks where flies had started their work. For some reason they underscored her death. So helpless, incapable of swatting a bug feasting on her.

I stared at Kaden. "'The killer duplicated every specific'? Of Genevieve's murder? Are you kidding me? He kidnapped a woman, drugged her, moved her body, stripped her, bound the wrists and ankles, and dumped her in a public place."

"There are an alarming number of similarities," Delveckio said.

"As for the differences? We usually see an upward evolution as a killer grows more experienced, learns from prior mistakes."

"You neglected to mention that earlier, when you were busting my door down. Why do you think she's naked?"

"Growing bolder," Kaden offered, studying me closely. "Could be part of a growing fantasy."

"Or he stripped her for the bleach washdown," Delveckio added, "which meant he knew we'd analyze the body for trace and foreign biologicals."

"And? Was she raped?"

Delveckio shook his head.

"What'd you find?"

"Aside from your blood and your hair?" Kaden flipped through his notepad. He tapped his pen to the paper. "Ah, here it is: None of your fucking business."

"Bruising at the wrists and ankles would indicate she was bound before the fatal stabbing, no?"

The detectives exchanged an irritated glance but didn't respond. Crafty detective work, keeping me in the dark like this.

"The Sevoflurane. She was kept alive. Unlike Genevieve. Points to sadistic tendencies?" I returned their stares. "Blink twice if I'm getting warm. How about the abrasions on the hip and cheek? From being thrown out of the vehicle?"

Delveckio gave me the sour face, but Kaden just grinned his amusement. "You know, we got some experience with bodies," he said. "Maybe even as much as you." His cell phone chimed, and he glanced at it, then nodded at Delveckio and stood. "You're not our partner. You're not a cop. You're a fucking writer. And, according to your first verdict, a killer. When we require your help, we'll question you."

As they gave me their backs, blocking the mirror's view of me, I slid a handful of printouts from the table down into my lap. The move was purely, bizarrely instinctual.

Stealing evidence from an interrogation room in Parker Center. I was setting new standards for bad judgment.

Kaden paused at the door, his grand exit stymied, and came back for his photos, minus a few duplicates. He stepped into the hall beside Delveckio and nodded at one of their underlings, out of sight. "Get a full statement. Then kick him loose."

The door slammed shut, and I was alone with my reflection and crime-scene photos stuffed down my pants.

Chapter 11

Chic dropped me off, nodding and touching the brim of his cap. "Will that be all, Miss Daisy?"

"You people are so well mannered." I hopped out.