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Authors: Blaize Clement
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way, I just happen to have spent about an hour with the suspect before she turned herself in. She told me she’s known Cupcake Trillin practically her whole life. I’m sure she’s lying, because Cupcake wouldn’t lie about knowing a famous model who’s been stalking him. I mean, why would he?”
I didn’t say that for a whole bunch of reasons, the main one being that even though I wasn’t a deputy anymore, Owens would have my head on a platter if he knew I’d talked to Briana while officers were looking for her. Another big reason was that Cupcake was my friend, and I’m loyal to my friends, even when I have the teensiest suspicion one of them may have lied to me. Which, no matter how much I told myself it was Briana who had lied about knowing Cupcake, I sort of did.
So for those reasons plus a few more, I kept my mouth shut about seeing Briana and taking her to Ethan’s office. Like a kid with sugar on her cheeks hoping nobody will guess she’s been snitching cookies, I figured Briana might keep quiet about me and maybe nobody would ever know.
Instead, I said, “When will the investigators be done with the house? I’ll need to call the crime-scene cleaners before I can take the cats back home.”
Owens said, “Check with me in the morning and I’ll know more about that. I’ve talked to Mr. Trillin. He and his wife will leave Parma for Rome a little after midnight our time. If they make all their connections, they’ll get to Sarasota around ten tomorrow night. Twenty-one damn hours in the air.”
I had never heard Owens profess so much interest in somebody’s travel plans. He was trying to divert my attention from the investigation.
I said, “Who is the homicide detective on the case?”
Curtly, he said, “I’ll know more about that tomorrow, too.”
He clicked off without saying good-bye, which left me staring at my phone. Owens is never a gushy guy, but he’s not rude. He didn’t want to talk about the homicide detective on this case. Guidry had waited until the department had hired his replacement before he left, but this was going to be a high-profile case, and my bet was that the new guy hadn’t worked out. The department was probably scrambling to find somebody with the experience to handle it.
I wished I knew if the murdered woman had been identified.
I wished I knew if Cupcake was lying about knowing Briana.
I wished I knew if Briana had told the truth about a mysterious person coming into the house and murdering the woman.
If Briana’s story was true, a vicious killer was on the loose.
7
Before it was time to go on my afternoon calls, my cell phone rang with the distinctive ring reserved for Michael, Paco, or Guidry. My heart did the same little tap dance it always did when I heard that ring, because I hoped it was Guidry. Guidry had left Sarasota in November, and at first he had called often. After almost six months, not so much.
I hoped he’d got over his disappointment that I’d stayed in Siesta Key. I hoped he didn’t miss me. I hoped he missed me and hurt every waking moment because I wasn’t there.
I wished I would quit missing him.
I was a mess.
The call wasn’t from Guidry. It was my brother, Michael.
He said, “I just heard a news report about a killing at Cupcake Trillin’s house. Aren’t you taking care of his cats?”
I gave him a quick rundown of what had happened, leaving out the part about talking to Briana and taking her to see Ethan Crane. Michael tends to get stressed when I get involved in things having to do with crime. He goes into burning buildings without the least hesitation, but murder investigations make him uneasy. Especially if I’m part of them.
He said, “The news report said the woman who did it turned herself in. Some big-name model, it sounded like.”
“If that’s what they’re reporting, they’ve got it wrong. She turned herself in because she knew they were looking for her, but she says somebody came in while she was
I didn’t say that for a whole bunch of reasons, the main one being that even though I wasn’t a deputy anymore, Owens would have my head on a platter if he knew I’d talked to Briana while officers were looking for her. Another big reason was that Cupcake was my friend, and I’m loyal to my friends, even when I have the teensiest suspicion one of them may have lied to me. Which, no matter how much I told myself it was Briana who had lied about knowing Cupcake, I sort of did.
So for those reasons plus a few more, I kept my mouth shut about seeing Briana and taking her to Ethan’s office. Like a kid with sugar on her cheeks hoping nobody will guess she’s been snitching cookies, I figured Briana might keep quiet about me and maybe nobody would ever know.
Instead, I said, “When will the investigators be done with the house? I’ll need to call the crime-scene cleaners before I can take the cats back home.”
Owens said, “Check with me in the morning and I’ll know more about that. I’ve talked to Mr. Trillin. He and his wife will leave Parma for Rome a little after midnight our time. If they make all their connections, they’ll get to Sarasota around ten tomorrow night. Twenty-one damn hours in the air.”
I had never heard Owens profess so much interest in somebody’s travel plans. He was trying to divert my attention from the investigation.
I said, “Who is the homicide detective on the case?”
Curtly, he said, “I’ll know more about that tomorrow, too.”
He clicked off without saying good-bye, which left me staring at my phone. Owens is never a gushy guy, but he’s not rude. He didn’t want to talk about the homicide detective on this case. Guidry had waited until the department had hired his replacement before he left, but this was going to be a high-profile case, and my bet was that the new guy hadn’t worked out. The department was probably scrambling to find somebody with the experience to handle it.
I wished I knew if the murdered woman had been identified.
I wished I knew if Cupcake was lying about knowing Briana.
I wished I knew if Briana had told the truth about a mysterious person coming into the house and murdering the woman.
If Briana’s story was true, a vicious killer was on the loose.
7
Before it was time to go on my afternoon calls, my cell phone rang with the distinctive ring reserved for Michael, Paco, or Guidry. My heart did the same little tap dance it always did when I heard that ring, because I hoped it was Guidry. Guidry had left Sarasota in November, and at first he had called often. After almost six months, not so much.
I hoped he’d got over his disappointment that I’d stayed in Siesta Key. I hoped he didn’t miss me. I hoped he missed me and hurt every waking moment because I wasn’t there.
I wished I would quit missing him.
I was a mess.
The call wasn’t from Guidry. It was my brother, Michael.
He said, “I just heard a news report about a killing at Cupcake Trillin’s house. Aren’t you taking care of his cats?”
I gave him a quick rundown of what had happened, leaving out the part about talking to Briana and taking her to see Ethan Crane. Michael tends to get stressed when I get involved in things having to do with crime. He goes into burning buildings without the least hesitation, but murder investigations make him uneasy. Especially if I’m part of them.
He said, “The news report said the woman who did it turned herself in. Some big-name model, it sounded like.”
“If that’s what they’re reporting, they’ve got it wrong. She turned herself in because she knew they were looking for her, but she says somebody came in while she was
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