“Are we ready?” The medical examiner glanced at all of them. “Okay, Detective Manx. Lift the bedspread up, but slowly.”
This time the dog was prepared, his eyes glazed, teeth bared, the growl deep and low. But he didn’t lunge at them. He couldn’t. Underneath the bloody mess of fur that was once white, Maggie spotted the main wound, a gash just above the shoulder and barely missing the throat. The matted fur must have temporarily stopped the bleeding.
“It’s okay, boy,” Maggie told the dog in a quiet, calm voice. “We’re going to help you. Just relax.”
She scooted closer, extending a part of the sleeve and letting it hang beyond her hand. He snapped at it, and Maggie jerked backward, almost losing her balance.
“Jesus!” she muttered. Had she completely lost her mind? She tried not to think of her aversion to needles, yet found herself wondering if the treatment for rabies was still six shots.
Maggie steadied herself. She needed to stay focused. She tried again, more slowly this time. The dog sniffed at the dangling sleeve, possibly recognizing the scent of his owner. His growl turned into a whine and then a whimper.
“It’s okay,” Maggie promised in a hushed tone, uncertain whether she was trying to convince the dog or herself. She inched closer with the tennis racket in her other hand, the tie’s loop hanging down, moving in while the dog watched and continued to whimper. She let the dog sniff the tie. He didn’t resist when she slipped it over his snout. Gently, she tightened the knot.
“How’re we gonna get him out from under there?” Officer Hillguard was now on his knees on the other side of Maggie.
“Let’s unfold one of those blankets and get it next to him.”
But as soon as Officer Hillguard’s hands got close, the dog snapped and snarled, growling and struggling against the makeshift muzzle. He jumped toward the officer, and Maggie used the opportunity to grab the dog’s collar from behind. She yanked him forward onto the blanket, all the while holding the tennis racket and keeping the muzzle tight. The dog yipped, and immediately Maggie worried that she had opened one of the wounds.
“Holy shit,” she heard Detective Manx say, but this time he kept his revolver in its holster.
“We got him.” The medical examiner stood and waved Officer Hillguard over to his side. The two men tugged on the blanket corners and pulled the dog out from under the bed. “We can use my van to transport him to Riley’s Clinic.”
Maggie sat back on her feet, only now noticing that she was soaked with perspiration.
“Shit.” Manx was back to his belligerent mood. “That means all the blood by the door and in the bathtub is probably the fucking dog’s blood, and we don’t have a damn thing.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” Maggie said. “Something violent happened here, and the dog’s owner may have suffered the brunt of it.” She watched the doctor and officer cover the trembling dog and secure their blanket stretcher, grateful they were too busy to notice how much effort it took for her to stand.
“I’m guessing this guy—” she pointed to the Lab “—tried to stop whatever happened. He may have gotten in a couple of good bites. There’s a chance some of the blood, especially here by the bed, may be the intruder’s. Your forensics people should be able to get a sampling even though it’s been wiped up.”
“You think you can allow me to do my own investigation?” Manx shot her a look of contempt.
Maggie wiped strands of hair off her forehead. Jesus! Couldn’t this guy give her a break? Just then she realized she had blood on her hands and now had blood on her forehead and in her hair. When she glanced at the medical examiner, he was shaking his head at Manx and giving him a warning look as though he, too, was fed up with Manx’s arrogance.
“Yes, of course, the investigation is all yours,” Maggie finally said, and grabbed a corner of the blanket to help the men move the swaddled dog. “I’m sure the whole neighborhood will sleep soundly tonight, knowing you’re on the case.”
Manx seemed surprised by her sarcasm, then turned red when he noticed the two men would not be coming to his defense. Maggie caught the medical examiner smiling. She didn’t turn to see if Manx had caught it, too.
“Just keep your big FBI badge and your pretty little butt out of my investigation,” he said to her back, determined to get in the last word. “You got that, O’Donnell?”
She didn’t bother to look at him or answer, the ungrateful son of a bitch. He wouldn’t have even found the dog if it wasn’t for her. Now she wondered if he would bother to take blood samples, simply because it had been her suggestion.
She held her corner of the blanket tight and followed Officer Hillguard and the medical examiner. As they reached the landing, Maggie turned to look at Manx, who had stayed in the bedroom’s doorway.
“Oh, Detective Manx,” she called to him. “One more thing. You might want to check out this mud here on the steps. Unless, of course, you’re the one who tracked it in and contaminated your own crime scene.”
Instinctively, Manx lifted his right foot, taking a look at the sole before he realized his defensive reaction. The M.E. laughed out loud. Officer Hillguard knew better and confined himself to a smile. Manx’s face went red again. Maggie simply turned, concentrating on keeping their patient steady and calm while they hauled him down the stairs.
CHAPTER 6
Tess McGowan stuffed a copy of the closing papers into her leather briefcase, ignoring its worn sheen and cracked handle. A couple more sales and just maybe she could afford a new briefcase instead of the hand-me-down she had bought at the thrift store.
She jotted a note on her desk blotter, “Joyce and Bill Saunders: a dozen long-stemmed chocolate chip cookies.” The Saunderses kids would get a kick out of them, and Joyce was a chocoholic. Then, she wrote, “Maggie O’Dell: a garden bouquet.” Quickly, she scratched out the notation. No, it was too simple, and Tess liked to customize her thank-yous to her customers. They had become one of her trademarks and paid off big-time in referrals. But what would O’Dell like? Hey, even FBI agents liked flowers, and O’Dell seemed nuts about her huge backyard, but a bouquet didn’t seem right. No, what seemed right for Agent O’Dell was a killer Doberman. Tess smiled and jotted down “a potted azalea” instead.
Pleased with herself, Tess switched off her computer and slipped on her jacket. The other offices had gone silent hours ago. She was the only one nuts enough to be working this late. Though it didn’t matter. Daniel would be at his office until eight or nine and not ready to think about her for several more hours. But she wouldn’t dwell on his inattentiveness. After all, she’d be running in the other direction if Daniel was constantly calling her, infringing on her independence or pushing for a commitment. No, she liked things just the way they were—safe and uncomplicated with very little emotional investment. It was the perfect relationship for a woman who couldn’t handle any real commitments.
She passed by the copier room but stopped when she heard shuffling. Her eyes darted to the front door at the end of the hall, making certain nothing obstructed her path in case she needed to run. She leaned against the wall and peeked around the door to the room where a copy machine buzzed into action.
“Girl, I thought you went home hours ago.” Delores Heston’s voice startled Tess as the woman stood up from behind the machine and shoved a tray of paper into the mouth of the copier. Finally, she looked at Tess and her face registered concern. “Good Lord! I’m sorry, Tess. I didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?”
Tess’s heart pounded in her ears. Immediately she was embarrassed at being so jumpy. The paranoia was a leftover from her old life. She smiled at Delores while she leaned against the doorjamb and waited for her pulse to return to normal.
“I’m fine. I thought everyone else was gone. What are you still doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be taking the Greeleys to dinner?”
Delores punched some buttons, and the machine whizzed to life with a soft, almost comforting, hum. Then she looked at Tess, hand
s on her ample hips.
“They had to reschedule, so I’m catching up on some paperwork. And please don’t tell Verna. She’ll scream at me for messing with her precious baby.” The machine beeped as if on cue.
“Holy Toledo! What did I do now?” Delores turned and began punching buttons again.
Tess laughed. The truth was, Delores owned the machine just like she owned every last chair and paper clip. Delores Heston started Heston Realty nearly ten years ago and had made quite a name for herself in Newburgh Heights and the surrounding area. Quite an accomplishment for a black woman who had grown up poor. Tess admired her mentor who, at six o’clock in the evening after a full day of work, still looked impeccable in her deep purple custom-made suit. Delores’s silky, black hair was swept up into a compact bun, not a strand out of place. The only indication that she was finished for the day were her stocking feet.
In contrast, Tess’s suit was wrinkled from too many hours of sitting. Her thick, wavy hair frizzled from the humidity, strands breaking free from the clasp she used to tie it back. She was probably the only woman alive who dyed her naturally blond hair a nondescript brown in order to buy herself more credibility and to avoid sexual advances. Even the eyeglasses, which dangled from a designer cord around her neck, were a prop. Tess wore contact lenses, but didn’t young, attractive women always look more intelligent when they wore glasses?
Finally, the machine stopped beeping and started spitting out copies. Delores turned to Tess and rolled her eyes.
“Verna’s smart not to let me touch this thing.”
“Looks like you’ve got it under control.”
“So, girl, what are you doing here so late? Don’t you have a handsome man you should be home snuggling with on a Friday evening?”
“Just wanted to finish all the paperwork on the Saunders’ house.”
“That’s right. I forgot you closed this week. Excellent job, by the way. I know the Saunderses were in a hell of a hurry to sell. How much of a beating did we take?”
“Actually, it turned out quite well for everyone involved. Plus, we beat their two-week deadline, so on top of our commission we’ll also be receiving the selling bonus they tacked on.”
“Ooooh, I do so love to hear that. There’s no better advertising than surpassing a customer’s expectations. But that selling bonus is all yours, dearie.”
Tess wasn’t sure she heard her boss correctly.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re keeping that selling bonus for yourself. You deserve it.”
For a minute Tess didn’t know what to say. The bonus was almost ten thousand dollars. That was almost six months’ pay back when she had been bartending. Her look of surprise sent Delores into gales of laughter.
“Girl, I wish you could see the look on your face.”
Tess waited quietly. She managed a weak smile. She was embarrassed to ask if her boss was joking. It would be a cruel joke. But then, it wouldn’t be the first time Tess had experienced such cruelty. In fact, she expected it, accepted it, almost more readily than kindness.
Delores was staring at her again, with a look of concern.
“Tess, I am serious. I want you to have the selling bonus. You worked your ass off to move that property in two weeks. I know it’s a beautiful house and the asking price was a steal, but with all the paperwork and hedging and negotiating—selling anything right now that quickly, and especially in that price range, is nothing less than a miracle.”
“It’s…well, it’s just an awful lot of money. Are you sure you want to—”
“Absolutely. I know what I’m doing, girlfriend. I’m investing in you, Tess. I want you to stick around. Don’t need you going out on your own and becoming my competition. Besides, I’m making a nice piece of change off that property, as it is. Now go home and celebrate with that handsome man of yours.”
On the way home Tess wondered if it was possible, the part about celebrating with her “handsome man.” Daniel had been so angry with her last week when she’d refused to move in with him. She wasn’t sure she blamed him. Why was it that every time a man wanted to get close to her, she pushed him away?
Jesus, she wasn’t a kid anymore. In a couple of weeks she’d be thirty-five. She was becoming a successful and respected businesswoman. So why couldn’t she get her personal life right? Was she destined to fail at every damn relationship she attempted? No matter what she did, the past seemed to follow her around, sucking her back into its old, comfortable, but destructive, cocoon.
The last five years had been a constant battle, but finally she was making progress. And this last sale had proven that she was actually good at this. She could make a living without conning anyone. Even Daniel had become a sort of trophy, with his refined handsome features, his educated and cultured background. He was sophisticated and ambitious and so completely unlike any man she had ever been with. So what if he was a little arrogant, or that they had so few things in common. He was good for her. She winced at the thought. It made Daniel sound like cod liver oil.
Tess found herself pulling her leased Miata into the back-alley parking lot of Louie’s Bar and Grill. She decided to pick up a bottle of wine. Then she’d call Daniel, apologize for last week and invite him over for a late dinner to help her celebrate. Surely he would be excited for her. He had said he liked her independence and determination, and Daniel was stingy with compliments, even the halfhearted ones.
She sat back in the leather seat and tried to remember why she felt she needed to apologize to him again. Oh well. It didn’t matter, as long as they put it behind them and moved forward. She was getting good at putting things in the past. Yet, if that were true, what was she doing back here at Louie’s? Shep’s Liquor Mart was only three blocks down the street and on her way home. What in the world did she need to prove to anyone? Or rather, what was it she still needed to prove to herself?
She reached for the key in the ignition and was just about to start the car and leave when the back door swung open, startling her. A stocky, middle-aged man came out, his hands filled with trash bags, his apron grimy and his balding head glistening with sweat. A cigarette hung from his lips. Without removing it, he heaved the bags into the Dumpster and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. As he turned to go back in, he saw her, and then it was too late.
He grabbed the cigarette—one last puff—and tossed it to the ground without stomping it out. He strolled up to the car, carrying his bulk with a swagger Tess knew he imitated from the professional wrestlers he idolized. He thought he looked cool. When, in fact, he simply looked like a pathetic, overweight, balding, middle-aged man. Despite all that, she found him endearing, the closest thing she had to an old friend.
“Tessy,” he said, then waited as the window hummed opened. “What the hell you doin’ here?”
She noticed the beginning of a smile before he wiped at it, pretending instead to scratch the five o’clock shadow.
“Hi, Louie.” She got out of the car.
“Fuckin’ nice ride ya got here, Tessy,” he said, checking out the shiny black Miata.
She let him examine and admire it, neglecting to tell him it was a company car and not her own. One of Delores’s mottoes was that to be successful you must first look successful.
Finally, Louie turned his sights on Tess. She felt his eyes slide down her designer suit and his whistle made her blush. She should have felt proud. Instead, his attention made her feel like a fraud for a second time in the same day.
“So whatcha doin’ here? Slummin’?”
Immediately, her face grew hot.
“Of course not,” she snapped.
“Hey, I’m just jokin’ with ya, Tessy.”
“I know that.” She smiled, hoping she sounded convincing and not defensive. She turned to the car and pretended to lock the door, though the remote could do it from ten feet away. “I need to pick up a bottle of wine. Just thought I’d give you the business rather than Shep’s.
”
“Oh really?” He stared at her, his eyebrow raised, but quickly gave in to a smile. “Well, I appreciate it. And you never need no excuse to come see us, Tessy. You know you’re always welcome.”
“Thanks, Louie.”
Suddenly she felt like that restless, going-nowhere bartender she had left here five years ago. Would she ever be rid of her past?
“Come on,” Louie said as he swung a muscular arm up around her shoulder.
Wearing heels, Tess was a couple inches taller, making the dragon tattooed on his arm stretch its neck. The smell of body odor and French fries made her stomach turn, only she was surprised to find it was homesickness she was feeling instead of nausea. Then she thought of Daniel. Later, he would smell the cigarette smoke and the greasy burgers. She realized that would be enough to ruin the celebration.
“You know what, Louie. I just remembered something I forgot back at the office.” She turned and slipped out from under his arm.
“What? It can’t wait a few minutes?”
“No, sorry. My boss will have my ass in a sling if I don’t take care of it right now.” She bleeped her car door open and climbed inside before Louie had a chance to do any more objecting. “I’ll stop in later,” she said through the half-opened window, knowing full well she would not. The window was already on its way up again when she said, “I promise.”
She shifted the car into gear and carefully maneuvered the narrow alley, watching Louie in the rearview mirror. He looked more confused than pissed. That was good. She didn’t want Louie pissed at her. Then immediately wondered why it mattered. She didn’t want it to matter.
She turned the car onto the street, and when she knew she was safely out of sight, she gunned the engine. But it took several miles before she felt like she could breathe and before she could hear the car radio instead of the pounding of her heart. Then she remembered that she had passed Shep’s Liquor Mart. She didn’t care. She no longer felt as if she deserved a celebration, yet she tried to concentrate on her recent successes and not the past. In fact, she remained so focused, she hardly noticed the dark sedan following her.