Deadly Intersections (3 page)

“Hey,” Ari whispered, her index finger tracing the side of Molly’s jaw.  “Now
you
look a million miles away.”

“I’m just thinking about the case,” she lied. “It’s going nowhere. The handwriting analysis was inconclusive, and we haven’t found anyone who saw anything, not that it was easy. People don’t usually hang out in parking garages, and it’s been a nightmare trying to connect with all of the business people who work in the towers next door.”

“Did you interview Stan Wertz?”

“Yup. Him and his secretary. She says he was back in the office at one o’clock.”

“And you’re comfortable that she’s telling the truth?”

Molly stroked her cheek. She loved the way that Ari phrased things in such a way that didn’t question her professional judgment. She just asked reflective questions. Their conversations had helped her solve a few cases since they’d been together.

“I’m not sure what to believe. After the interview Andre was convinced she’s having an affair with him, and they were in the middle of doing it at one o’clock. She says his cell alarm went off and she heard it.”

“What about the wife?”

“She’s distraught, but the marriage was unstable. Both of them had talked to a divorce attorney recently.”

“There’s an angle.”

Molly nodded in agreement. Most people were killed by people they knew, not strangers, and spouses and lovers accounted for most of the doers.

“It could be but it’s looking unlikely. We’ve spent the week combing through his business affairs, and she doesn’t have much of a connection. She claims there was another woman and that was her motivation for the divorce.”

“Does she know who it was?”

Molly shook her head. “No. She’s still a suspect, but she’s the one pushing for the investigation. She says that it wasn’t suicide.”

“Why?”

“He had too much to live for. The business was doing well, and she didn’t recognize the flask.”

“Did he ever drink from a flask?”

Molly grinned and nodded. “Sometimes.”

Ari shrugged. “So maybe he bought a new one. Was he upset about the divorce?”

“Very upset which is why I haven’t ruled out suicide. He was incredibly despondent. They have a nine-one-one call to the house about two weeks ago. He was drunk and screaming at her.”

“Anything else in the car or the briefcase?”

“Not really. Just some standard business forms, brochures about his company and the usual stuff you find—mints, Tic Tacs and gum. There was also a key.”

Ari raised an eyebrow. “A key? What kind of key?”

“Like a front door key, but it didn’t fit the Edgington’s front door. It wasn’t on a key chain. A couple of those garbage bag twist-ties, a red and white one, were tied to the end, probably so he wouldn’t lose it.”

“Did you show it to the wife?”

“She’d never seen it. We tried to unlock every door at his home and office with that key and nothing.”

She kicked the ground with her shoe, tired of the subject. “Maybe it was a suicide. The coroner’s report should be back tomorrow. It’ll probably say that he killed himself with booze and pills or somebody planted some poison in that flask. If it’s just booze and pills, I know we’ll be pulled off the case. Ruskin wants this to go away.”

Ari rolled her eyes at the mention of Molly’s boss. “Of course he wants it to go away. He wants to clear every case as fast as possible to keep his precious career on track.”

They both knew David Ruskin had dreams of replacing Police Chief Sol Gardener, Ari’s godfather and her father’s best friend.

Ari stretched out her legs, and Molly gazed at her muscular tanned calves. She basked in the sunlight, her eyes closed. She smiled. She could sink into her deep green eyes and dark, shimmering black hair. Ari was beautiful with incredible olive skin and a lean body. Women and men flirted with her on a daily basis, and while she always politely rebuffed their overt advances and proposals for dinner, Molly could tell she enjoyed the attention—she would often flirt back innocently. Today she’d pulled her tresses into a loose bun, some of which had come undone and shrouded her face, the face of a model. Whether she was going to a fancy party or struggling to get out of bed, she was stunning. Every time Molly paused to stare at her, she couldn’t take a breath.

“I need a mocha latte,” she announced. “Want one?”

Ari nodded, her attention returning to the children’s area, while Molly wandered to the nearby coffee bar. She patiently waited in the long line, watching the two energetic college students expertly grind and whip the caffeinated concoctions. Her gaze drifted back to Ari. She could spend hours looking at her. At night when she was fast asleep, Molly would awaken and study her, letting her lips tenderly kiss the slopes of Ari’s shoulders.

The goofy smile that covered her face quickly faded when a shapely blonde on rollerblades coasted next to Ari and planted herself on the bench.

Heat burned through her as the woman inched closer to Ari, her arm extended across the back of the bench, her fingers millimeters from Ari’s creamy flesh. Ari didn’t seem to notice. Nothing about her mannerisms was suggestive or flirtatious. Yet the woman gushed with emotion, laughing heartily at everything she said, her voice drifting across the courtyard and slapping Molly in the face. The box of jealousy that lived next to her heart exploded, and she took two steps out of line. Suddenly her feet stopped, and she almost fell over herself. Ari wouldn’t approve—she would be appalled and embarrassed if Molly confronted the woman and shoved her into the lake. It would not be a pleasant way to end their romantic afternoon. She needed to let it go.

Molly turned back to the line, estimating that it would be another five minutes before she returned to the bench with their lattes. By then Ari could have left her, moved in with the blonde and adopted one of the children splashing in the fountain. She closed her eyes and refused to watch the woman’s flirtations, determined to let the jealousy ooze away, steeling her fears, reminding herself that Ari’s commitment was unwavering and undeniable. The mantra was one she recited often. It disguised the most distasteful aspect of her personality. At least she hoped her raging jealousy wasn’t obvious to Ari. She’d never said anything about it, and Molly knew she was an expert at hiding emotions. Yet dealing with her hot-bloodedness cost her dearly, always draining her of energy and leaving her craving a drink.

She paid for the lattes and returned to the bench. The blonde was still seated next to Ari, her skating forgotten. Ari was explaining property values in Tempe while the woman feigned extraordinary interest. Molly smiled broadly as the blonde’s face crumbled when she settled next to Ari, handed her the latte and wrapped a possessive arm around
her
woman. The rollerblader recognized her deep cleavage and short shorts were being wasted on Ari, who obliviously continued to ramble on about mortgage rates. When she unconsciously snuggled up against Molly, the blonde leaned forward, attempting an exit.

“Hey, it’s been nice talking to you,” she said, interrupting her mid-sentence, “but I’ve got to cruise. See you around, Ari.” 

And without waiting for a reply the woman skated toward Mill Avenue. Ari wiped the puzzled expression from her face and took a sip of the coffee. “Weird,” was her only comment.

“Who was that?” Molly asked innocently.

“Deandra, or something like that,” she replied absently, her eyes returning to the children.

Molly squeezed her shoulder and they drank their lattes in silence, basking in the mild winter weather, envying the lives of the children who had no cares or worries. Ari laughed as one child turned the water cannon on her older brother, spraying him in the chest, screaming with delight. The older boy yelled at his sister and chased her around the park. When an airplane roared overhead, preparing to land at the airport that sat between Phoenix and Tempe, the children froze and looked up. A few pointed and all were mesmerized.

“What time are you picking up your dad?” Molly asked, the sight of the airplane reminding her of Ari’s afternoon plans.

Ari sighed. “About three. We’ll probably go have a late lunch before I drop him off at Sol’s.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

It was a question Molly had wanted to ask all week but had avoided because she knew the answer—no. As much as she wanted to meet Big Jack Adams and as much as she knew it would help her deal with the growing commitment she felt toward Ari, she knew Ari had too much history with her father—bad history—to bring a girlfriend into the picture. He’d disowned her years ago when he learned she was gay, she’d tried to commit suicide, his wife had divorced him before her death, and it had taken four years for this reunion to occur.

She offered a withered look and Molly kissed her forehead. “I understand. It’s okay.”
But it still hurts.

Ari stared at the elevator and made no effort to press the call button. A screech of tires made her jump, and she glanced toward a car speeding up the spiral ramp to the next level of the parking garage. While they were in a hurry, she moved in slow motion, dreading the next few hours. The elevator suddenly chimed and the doors opened. Passengers hustled out and she boarded, knowing it was a sign.

As the elevator descended an odd sensation overtook her. It was as if a string was pulling her closer to the past and this reunion with her father. She checked her watch, thinking he’d probably deplaned by now and was waiting by security, the place where they’d agreed to meet.

It was one of many agreements. She would pick him up, and they would have a late lunch but there was nothing else planned for Sunday. He wouldn’t stay with her but at Sol’s. If the lunch went well, they might go to dinner, but they had to agree. Eventually he might meet Molly. She hadn’t said anything to him about having a girlfriend. She knew, though, that their paths would inevitably cross at the police station.

She headed for the security area, but he wasn’t there. She moved underneath the TV monitors and saw that his plane had arrived half an hour early. She stationed herself against a wall so she would see him when he passed the checkpoint. Maybe he was in one of the gift stores along the D concourse.

A familiar belly laugh erupted from the security area and her gaze settled on a group of TSA workers clustered around Jack Adams.

He towered over all of them and gave one of the young guys a pat on the shoulder. Dressed in a blue button-down oxford shirt, tweed blazer and jeans, Jack looked forty-five and not fifty-eight. Ari knew her good genes were a blessing from both of her parents, although she was nearly a mirror image of her dead mother Lucia.

How he’d managed to get into the sacred security area was a mystery, but Ari wasn’t surprised. He could charm anyone—his good looks made women swoon and men jealous. He looked up beyond the waiting passengers and their eyes met. She felt no urge to wave or smile but he did. He pointed to her and soon the TSA workers were staring as well. He grabbed his carry-on and waved good-bye to his new friends. 

Before she could jam her hands into her pockets and avoid a hug, he wrapped his massive arms around her and she was compelled to return the gesture. Fortunately he pulled away quickly, still holding her shoulders with his huge hands.

“You are absolutely beautiful,” he said. “Just like your mom.”

At the mention of her mother, her lip began to quiver. She looked away, her eyes welling with tears. “Um, Dad—”

“No, no,” he said, handing her a tissue from his pocket. “There will be none of that. You’re supposed to be angry with me, not sad. When someone’s an asshole, you don’t cry about it, do you?”

She couldn’t help but laugh.
He always knows how to break the tension
. “Let’s get your bags,” she said, turning toward the escalator.

Conversation proved unnecessary as they collected his giant duffle and made their way to the car. The general commotion surrounding the task and his inherent nature to chat with anyone around him excused her from discussing the list of mundane topics she’d committed to memory on her way to the airport. Instead he resumed a conversation with an elderly woman he must have met on the plane and on their way up to the garage, he turned to a man next to him and asked, “Is Durant’s still the best place in town to get a steak?”

The man said yes, but other passengers disagreed and a short but lively discussion ensued. It was the noisiest elevator ride she’d ever endured. Once they were in the 4Runner and driving away, she mentally reviewed her topic list.

“I don’t want to talk about the weather, the Diamondbacks or how much the valley has changed in the last four years,” he said suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. “What else is there?”

She shook her head and a sliver of a smile crossed her lips. She didn’t want to like him again. “You’ve just vetoed all the easy ones, Dad, so you pick.”

“Let’s talk about Jane.”

She chuckled, knowing her best friend was great conversation material. A fellow real estate agent, he’d known Jane Frank for years.

“Good choice,” she agreed. “Jane’s doing great, making lots of money and continuing her quest for the perfect woman.”

“I take it the quest may be never ending?”