WAY TO GO, DETECTIVE DUMB Fuck!
“OhmyGodIcantbelieveThomRenzoisdead!” Maegan strung all the words together before she took a stuttering breath and sobbed harder.
Had she been any other witness, I would’ve patted her on the shoulder and tried to calm her down. I knew what would happen if I touched Maegan in any way, and the techniques I would use to comfort her weren’t taught at the police academy. I needed to stick with a hands-off approach with her.
“Maegan,” I softly said, hoping the sound of my voice would get through to her. “I need you to take a few calming breaths and repeat what you just said.”
“Oh my God,” gasp, gasp, gasp, “I can’t believe,” pant, pant, pant, “Thom Renzo,” wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “is dead.”
I won’t lie to you, all that panting and gasping made me recall the animalistic way Maegan liked to fuck and get fucked. My dick started to rise and salute her under my jeans, but I ignored his demands to focus on the right thing to do. Maegan deserved better treatment than what I had showed her, and I planned to find the right time to apologize, but that wasn’t during a murder investigation.
“Did you know him well?” I asked.
Maegan shook her head then took some calming breaths as she tried to pull herself together. “Not really. He went to the same school as us, but he always came across as a little… weird.” I could tell she felt guilty for thinking it, let alone saying it about the recently departed. “He was kind of a loaner during most of high school.”
Maegan, Milo, and Memphis’s story all matched, and I believed that none of them took a blunt object to Thom Renzo’s head. From the coroner’s initial findings, he hadn’t been dead long before the treasure hunters stumbled upon the blood trail. What they might’ve done was destroy valuable evidence like footprints in the dirt-covered stone floor.
She seemed so tiny and vulnerable in the back of the cruiser with her arms wrapped tightly around herself like she was physically trying to hold herself together. I realized that sending her brother and friend home was probably a mistake because she didn’t look to be in any condition to drive. I hadn’t been thinking clearly at the time. It had taken every ounce of willpower to stay away from the woman after I blew her off in my driveway earlier in the week. I hated the look of hurt I saw flash in her eyes before she covered it with a blinding but fake smile. She didn’t deserve my callous treatment, and I wanted to apologize to her every day, but my self-preservation won out.
Then I get sent to my first crime scene and who is one of my witnesses? None other than the woman who had haunted my sleep since I first met her. I told myself I separated her from the two men to prevent them from influencing one another’s statements, but I knew better. I wanted to be alone with her again, if only for a few minutes, in a controlled environment where I knew I wouldn’t make an ass of myself over her again. Surely, I wouldn’t kiss her lips and fondle her tits in the back of a patrolman’s car, right? I put nothing past me when she was near. There was just something about her that made me want… so many things.
I reacted badly when I learned that Maegan probably arrived so soon after Renzo died because it scared the fuck out of me. The body had still been warm. What if she’d arrived just a little earlier? She could’ve been killed too! Was the killer still in the house when she arrived? I was worried about her safety and angry because she’d slipped beneath my defenses. I allowed my anger over what could’ve happened fuel shitty behavior towards her. Again.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped inside of her, the tears suddenly stopped and the expression on her face could only be described as furious. She went from vulnerable to fierce in a heartbeat and damn if that didn’t turn me on even more.
“You’re such an asshole, Elijah!”
“I am.” It was confirmation, not a question, which caught her off guard. Maegan could only blink at me for a few seconds, but she recovered in magnificent fashion.
“If you think agreeing with me will save your sorry ass then you better come up with a better plan.”
Regardless of her ire and crazy hair, I thought she had never looked more beautiful and hearing the word “come” slip from her mouth distracted me in ways I had hoped to avoid.
She saw, or at least sensed, my reaction to her, because she started yanking on the door handle to open it. She’d obviously never been in the back seat of a cruiser because they have the equivalent of child safety locks, but are used to prevent our detainees from escaping the car instead of toddlers. “Release me right fucking now.”
“Oh, Freckles,” I said before I could stop myself. “I want nothing more than to help us both release, but this isn’t the time or place. I’m available later though.”
“Arrogant bastard,” she snarled, but I saw the heat flair in her eyes. She felt it too, and it wouldn’t take much effort from me to get back to where we both wanted me—in her bed and between her beautiful, shapely legs.
“Don’t forget it, Freckles.” I tapped on the window and Officer Jansen opened the door for me. I walked around the vehicle and opened the door so Maegan could return to her SUV. “Are you okay to drive? I could—”
Maegan raised her hand to cut me off. “Don’t bother, Detective Markham.” She looked over the top of the squad car and seemed surprised to see that Jansen was still there. He looked at Maegan as sappily as one of those cartoon characters with bulging hearts for eyes. “Tell your mama that I said hello, Brett.”
“Will do,” Jansen said. “Are you sure you feel okay to drive home? You’ve had a huge shock; I can take you if you want.”
“That’s so sweet of you, but—”
“She said she was fine, Officer.” Jansen’s eyes rounded in surprise at the gruffness in my voice.
“See you around, Mae.” He walked toward the house to join the remaining officers on the scene.
Maegan rounded on me, hands on her hips and fire in her eyes. It seemed like I ended up deeper and deeper in the doghouse with every word I spoke or step I took. I thought it was for the best, but I still didn’t like that she was getting the wrong impression about me.
“Mae, huh?” I thought it was cute.
“Only my friends and family are allowed to call me that, and you’re neither of those things, Detective Markham. If there’s nothing else you need, I’d like to leave now.”
I needed plenty, but I wisely kept my response professional. “That’s all for now. I know where you live if I think of something else.” Okay, reminding both of us about the hours spent in her bed wasn’t the best idea either, especially when I acted like a jerk and pulled a disappearing act followed by the cold shoulder. She looked at me in disbelief before she rolled her eyes and walked away. “Drive safely,” I yelled to her retreating back. She responded by flipping me off.
I realized that I was good and fucked because I loved her moxie.
“Tell me what you know,” Captain Roman-Wyatt said when I returned to the station after securing the crime scene.
“Someone was very angry at Thom Renzo, sir,” I told him. “They hit him over the head with a heavy, blunt object causing him to stagger and fall. He wasn’t immediately knocked out though because it appears that he pulled himself to his feet and shuffled further into the cellar before his killer finished him off. It was really bad, sir.” I was grateful that Maegan, Milo, and Memphis went upstairs and called for help instead of following the trail of blood. I would not have wanted them to see Renzo’s gruesome homicide. “It’s unfortunate that the killer appears to have taken the murder weapon with him.”
“What do we know about the last few hours of his life?” the captain asked.
“He made an arrangement with a local business owner to look through his parents’ belongings to see if she wanted to buy anything for her store before the items were sold at an auction at a future date.”
“Maegan?” he asked.
“Yes, Miss Miracle,” I replied, hoping that addressing her formally would prevent me from thinking about how beautiful she looked naked beneath me, over me, or beside me. It didn’t work nor did it prevent me from wanting to do it all over again as quickly as possible. “Miss Miracle claimed that she was supposed to meet Thom Renzo last week, but he’d canceled their appointment.”
“Claimed? You don’t believe her, Detective?”
“I do believe her, sir. That was a poor choice of words.”
“Carry on,” the captain said.
“She said that she received an email from Renzo today, telling her that she was good to come out this evening, he confirmed the time, and provided the code for the lockbox at the front door that contained the key.
“Miss Miracle didn’t say this,” because she was too pissed at me, “but Mr. Miracle said he thought the email in itself was odd. The previous communication with his sister was done through a realtor that both Renzo and Miss Miracle knew. He thought it seemed odd that suddenly Renzo emailed his sister randomly with little notice.”
“What do you make of it?” the captain asked.
“By itself, nothing. I’ll call the realtor and set up an interview. I’ll also reach out to the auction house and see if I can track down Renzo’s friends and put together a timeline of his last few days. I find it really odd that his car wasn’t at the scene and I’d like to know how he arrived. His driver’s license was issued in Kentucky so Wen is looking through the database to see what type of vehicle Renzo owned to issue a BOLO. We’ll want to get inside his apartment as soon as possible to see what we can find for possible motives.”
“Good start,” he replied. “Your partner will be back from vacation on Monday. Nothing like a homicide to welcome you to our town. In the meantime, I’ll contact someone at the Kentucky State Police to set up a time for them to meet us at his residence for the search.” He shook his head. “I’m going to pair you with Officer Kevin Wen to assist you with the interviews since local potential witnesses will be more comfortable talking with him.” Instead of an outsider.
“Sounds good, Captain. Maybe the first thing Wen can help me with is determining Renzo’s next of kin, if one exists, for notification.”
“I bet I know someone who can help you with that.”
“Great,” I said, happy for any help I could get.
“What are you doing tonight?”
I knew what—or should I say who—I wanted to do, but that option wasn’t on the table, especially after my behavior earlier. “Nothing that I’m aware of, sir.”
The captain held up a finger for me to wait while he dialed his cell phone. “Sunshine, I’m bringing home a guest for dinner.” He listened for a second then laughed. “It’s my new detective on the police force. He saw the worst our town had to offer today, so it’s only fair that he sees the best.” I wasn’t sure exactly what his husband said, but it elicited a possessive growl out of the captain’s throat that made me smile. “I was talking about your cooking.”
While the captain verbally volleyed with his husband, I looked at the photos that sat on the credenza behind his desk. It was plain to see the two men were crazy in love with one another in each picture he proudly displayed. The newest photos included their twin son and daughter. I could see why the captain called his blond husband Sunshine. It wasn’t just the color of his hair; it was the joy and love that radiated from him. I could only hear one side of the conversation, but I got the impression that Josh Roman-Wyatt was a real firecracker.
“See you in thirty minutes or less.” He disconnected the call and looked at me. “Do you like country fried steak?”
“Love it,” I replied.
“You’re about to have the best country fried steak you’ll ever put in your mouth.”
“How will that get me closer to finding Thom Renzo’s next of kin?” I asked curiously.
“My husband and I own the salon in town and he knows everything about everyone,” the captain said.
Josh Roman-Wyatt was as sunny in person as he was in his photos, and the smells coming from his kitchen seemed to back up the captain’s claim.
Josh greeted his husband with a peck on the lips. “Hello, Captain Crunch.”
“Sunshine, you know that I hate that one.”
“Well, I very well couldn’t call you my personal favorite nickname since you brought one of your detectives home with you.”
“I think I’d rather you call me Captain Underwear than Captain Crunch, regardless of who hears it.”
“Fucknugget! Fucknugget!” a blue macaw squawked loudly from the solarium.
“Cockbadger! Cockbadger!” a scarlet macaw fired back.
“Dirty Birds!” the two husbands yelled.
“Big Daddy!” the scarlet said sweetly.
“Good girl, Sassy,” the captain said.
“Slut!” the blue macaw squawked accusingly at his companion.
“Savage,” Josh said in a warning tone. Then he turned to his husband. “Have you noticed that those crazy-ass birds have stopped cussing in front of the kids? It’s like they know.”
“They’re crazy smart, Sunshine. I sleep with one eye open.” The captain looked around the living room with a frown on his face. “Where are my angels?”
“Our little monsters are spending the weekend with their grandparents. They’re staying with my folks tonight and yours tomorrow night. Two blissfully quiet nights at home,” Josh said with a happy sigh. I noticed the merry little twinkle that sparkled in his eyes, and I figured they wouldn’t be too unhappy if I ate my food and ran. In fact, judging by the looks the two men exchanged, they had forgotten I was in the house with them.
“Hey, good-looking. Want to suck my dick?” the bird Savage asked. I was pretty damn sure he was talking to me.
“Maybe some other time,” I replied.
“Gabe, you need to do something about your bird,” Josh told his husband.
To Josh, the captain said, “That’s your bird.” To me, he said, “I’m truly sorry, Elijah.”
“Please don’t apologize to me, sir. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
“How about you drop the formalities and call me Gabe when you’re a guest in our home?”
“I can try, sir.” I grinned sheepishly because it seemed I would need to try a lot harder.
A timer buzzed in the kitchen and Josh announced it was time to eat. The captain hadn’t been lying when he bragged about his husband’s cooking. The country fried steak was crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside. Not even my grandmother’s homemade gravy could top Josh’s.
“Sunshine, Elijah needs some help with figuring out who Thom Renzo’s next of kin is since his parents’ preceded him in death,” Gabe told his husband.
“I heard about that,” Josh soberly said, setting his fork down. “There has always been an air of mystery surrounding the Renzos. They moved here mid to late eighties. They never socialized much with anyone in town, so we don’t know much about them.” That was pretty much what Maegan had said word for word. “Your best bet would be to talk to the local attorney in town who handles ninety-nine point nine percent of estate law for the Blissville residents.”
I left the Roman-Wyatt house with a full stomach and the name and number for the attorney, so I called that a win-win situation. I tried not to look over at Maegan’s house when I pulled into the driveway, but I failed. I sat looking up at her bedroom window where a thin crack of light showed beneath the shade she pulled down for privacy. I wanted to knock on her door and find out how she was holding up. I suspected her annoyance with me stiffened her resolve long enough to get home, but worried that her shock and fear returned the minute that wore off.
I don’t know how long I sat there debating what to do, but I eventually squelched the desire to knock on her door. That was until I walked up my front porch steps and saw what had been neatly stacked by my front door. I should’ve been glad she returned my slippers and blanket when I wasn’t home so that we avoided any awkwardness, so why then did it feel like she kicked me in the nuts?
“Oh, I don’t think so, Freckles.”