Knots (Club Imperial Book 4) (22 page)

Cece nodded, and pressed herself against the wall, ready to wait the whole night because it was twice as gross as what he thought gross was. She took a deep breath.

“Who the
hell
is that?”

Paul and Cece turned to find Lieutenant Garabaldi standing there, looking really pissed.

“Wainwright? Who is that? Why are they at my crime scene?”

Cece cleared her throat and gave Garabaldi a clear view of her face. “Good evening, lieutenant.” Garabaldi’s mouth dropped open. “Good to see you again.”

He finally recovered. “Ms… Robbe, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir, it is,” she confirmed.

Garabaldi looked at Paul again. “Why the hell is Robbe here?”

“Ride along.”

“On a fucking murder, Wainwright?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Paul said. “Tell me when the coroner doesn’t have murder and I’ll make sure to bring her back that day.”

“Why her?”

“My fiancée,” he answered simply.

“I thought that--?”

“You thought wrong,” Paul was getting upset. “Every minute we sit here and argue, that body gets a little colder. Can we do this after temperature?”

Garabaldi sighed. “Could you clear the ride along with me next time?”

“Sure, dad,” Paul answered.

“Fuck you,” Garabaldi said. “Run down?”

Paul dropped the bag on the ground, routed around and came back with a pair of gloves. “Go for it.”

“Female, mid-thirties, brown hair, brown eyes. About five foot four, clean cut, well dressed. Clear and obvious signs of trauma. We can’t detect the cause of death. Minimal blood loss.”

Paul snapped on the gloves and motioned Garabaldi to the door. “Let’s. Do you think Cece can handle the scene?”

Garabaldi turned a wicked grin on her. “Oh. Her? Yeah. No problem.”

Asshole
. Cece smiled at him, and after both he and Paul walked into the room, she was just behind them. She didn’t want to get in the way so she slid against the wall—and watched. If there was one thing she was good at, it was observation.

She recognized the woman in the middle instantly. It was Dina- battered, and bruise that half formed and would never fully bloom on her face. Her hair was frizzy and grayish, and she looked as though she had been working the night shift at a scrubby truck stop. She was naked from the waist down and her shirt and bra torn away.

Cece gasped and put a hand to her mouth. Paul and Garabaldi looked at her, and the shock must have been written on her face. They both walked back to her, and Garabaldi grabbed her elbow. “You’re not going to puke, are you, Dusty?”

“No, no,” she shook her head violently. “No…” she looked at Garabaldi. “That’s the same way Casey Lind was splayed out when we found her. One leg straight out, one leg bent, arms up and over her head. Her skirt was yanked up, but her shirt and bra were ripped open like that as well.” She looked at Paul. “I would put money on Dina having ligature marks on her neck.”

In sync, both men looked back at the figure on the floor. Paul looked at Garabaldi, who sighed. “You need a rape kit, Wainwright.”

“You need an investigative team, Garabaldi,” Paul replied. “We have a serial rapist murderer.”

# # #

The murderer had finally gone a full step forward. It wasn’t a welcome development. With Casey Lind, he had tried, but was foiled. With Dina Tiropolous, he hadn’t failed in his quest to double his prosecutable offences. In the worst way.

Murder was foul, but the coroner’s report reflected the fact that Dina had been raped—vaginally and anally—at least twice. Which meant the murderer had been there a while. Everyone agreed it was fortunate Dina’s daughter hid the whole time. It was also clearly why she wouldn’t be coaxed out of the closet.

Her father was a mess. His eccentricities were more pronounced as he grew older and with this, it seemed as though he had lost his mind completely. He wasn’t allowed to go back into the house he had lived in his whole life, and to add insult to injury, the state decided he wasn’t able to care for the granddaughter. She would go to live with a cousin. There was a feeling this was a great injustice to a once great man, but time would tell what really would happen.

Dina was, as was kept on the down-low, a dancer at the worst sort of go-go bar. She was a known prostitute, but had no record. It was easy to keep that information from the press—though from a lawyer it would be more difficult. And certainly no lawyer would pass it up.

The further the police dug, the more apparent the Tiropolous family had fallen on desperately hard times. The house was weeks from a sheriff sale for back taxes. The house was a hoarder’s paradise. There was nothing in the bank accounts; though they weren’t completely broke. Andros had taken to depositing money in an old mattress. There was enough money in that stash to keep them going for a long time.

There was general belief that the murderer had probably been a john. However the corner and several of the police weren’t convinced of that. They had better information than the general public. With the information from Cece Robbe that the body was in the same position Casey Lind had been rescued from, it was clear they were looking at a serial rapist and murderer.

It was not going to be an easy case. The biggest problem was a lot of the murders were out of district. The police had been coordinating with several other districts—some as far as DC and Cleveland—to try and trace the modus operandi. And they all had at least two murders that fit the modus. It wasn’t a good situation. There were far too many murders that were unsolved, all leading to the same suspect—except, no suspect.

Not only was there no suspect, but the DNA was undocumented. There was plenty of DNA too. To a point of being completely disgusting, cluing the police in that this was a sex-motivated crime.

Dina’s body was in the same condition as the others that stats had been shared on. Cleveland and DC weren’t really interested in taking over the investigation. They had plenty on their plates, and the random crime didn’t interest them. But the ‘Burgh didn’t usually have this kind of spree. Not to this magnitude. Not of this sort.

It all weighed heavily on his mind. The death of Dina, the attack on Casey, the other murders. It was all getting too close, and too frequent for his liking. Casey was barely two weeks ago, and now Dina. It was as though this murderer was circling his wagons to hit his primary target and soon.

“How is he?” the Hunk asked.

“Horrible,” the Watcher answered. “They’re hospitalizing him. The house is going to be condemned. The granddaughter has a hefty inheritance the cousins are working on keeping for her. Dina will be buried quietly in a week. There’s nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing to go on.”

“You have the DNA.”

The Watcher sighed. “We have the DNA of someone who has never been in the system before. All it’s doing is showing us that this suspect is a huge monster. Which isn’t a mystery.”

“He has to slip up soon.”

“Christ I hope so,” the Watcher admitted. “I want this beast put away.”

The Hunk handed the Watcher a martini glass. “For you, babe.”

“Shaken, like me.”

“You are never shaken,” the Hunk said.

“I am this time.”

The Hunk stopped and turned to him. “This is that bad?”

“This is worse than you think. Worse than I can let on to you.”

“As bad as that.”

“Yes.”

Cece sidled up to the bar again, and the bartender gave her a sidelong look. She threw the look right back at him. It was none of his damn business if she was on Slippery Nipple eight. This was
her
engagement party, and she’d get shitfaced if she wanted to.

Diane’s nerve-twisting laugh flared right next to her ear and if Cece had been one drop more drunk, she would have turned around and punched her. Which would have been bad. But when Diane turned and actually addressed her, Cece wished had been just that one drop more drunk.

“So, I need to see this ring!” Diane pushed her glass at the bartender who look more disgusted by her than by Cece. Diane grabbed Cece’s hand and hauled her around to look at the ring. “Oh, my gawd. It’s
gorgeous
!”

Cece nodded. “Thank you. Paul has awesome tastes.”

“Oh I just can’t wait until Killian gives me mine!”

Briefly, Cece wondered if Diane was looking to have a fist drilled into her throat. Because she’d was more than ready to oblige the woman. Just as Cece was getting ready to unleash on the woman, someone slid smoothly between them, and the foggy in her mind cleared enough to recognize the new person as Saundra Oetler-Milhouse. Everett’s soon to be ex-wife.

Because this isn’t awkward
.

She laughed sweetly at Diane. “Oh, now, Di, come on. Leave Cece alone. Chas sent me over her to pry you away from the diamond.”

“Why would my brother send you over?” Cece concluded her statement with an unexpected hiccough.

“Because he asked me to,” she explained.

Cece gave her the best stink face the alcohol would allow. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

“Girlfriends and boyfriends help each other,” Saundra answered.

“Are you
fucking
with me?” Cece gasped.

Saundra took a step back. “What?”

“You are dating my brother?” Cece stared at her, shocked.

“We’ve been going out for a month now, yes,” Saundra said.

Cece grabbed the drink off the bar, and took a solid drink as someone put an arm on her shoulder. She looked before she decided to flip the person on their ass. It was the right move; Killian was standing there.

Even more awkward
.

“Your fiancé is looking for you,” he said, pleasantly.

Cece swiveled her head to find Paul standing behind the chair at their table. He smiled at her and nodded to the other chair. She looked back at Killian who smiled and nodded at the chair. Diane moved right into Killian’s space and Cece was delighted to see him go from sweet to downright pissed off as she put her arm around him.

“Diane, back off,” he snapped.

“Oh, but babe--”

“Hands. Off.”

Cece laughed; she was too drunk to care. Killian pinned her with a deadly stare, and took her arm. “Come on. Paul’s waiting.” Cece wrapped her hand around her drink and allowed herself to be led away. “Cece, for shit’s sake. Could you be discrete?”

“Why?” she asked. “I’m at my own engagement party to man who doesn’t want to marry me, and who I don’t want to marry, being escorted over to him by the man who’s clothes I want to rip off and fuck right here, and just found out that my brother is seeing—and by seeing I mean fucking—one of my client’s ex-wife.”

“Client?” Killian asked. “I didn’t know librarians had clients.”

“It’s a good way to described some of the shit I put her through,” came a new voice.

Cece turned her head again and found Everett standing there.

Jesus Christ.
The night would only be complete if John Smith and Donnie showed up.

Diane was suddenly in front of the three of them. Cece couldn’t believe she’d be able to move that fast. “Why hell are you all fawning over this freak?”

“Diane, back the hell off,” Everett said. “This is her party and half the reason she’s drunk is because of you and your floozies.”

“My floozies?”

“Friends,” he offered. “Whatever you want to call them.”

“Just as rude as ever, I see, Everett.”

Cece’s head turned yet again, and found Susan standing there. “Are you following me?”

“Well, it’s your party,” Susan answered. “You’re main attraction.”

“Do you think this is a freak show too?” Cece snapped, her delightful buzz wearing off quickly.

“No, I don’t,” she said. “I just think that Paul could do better than you.”

“Then why don’t you talk to your fucking boyfriend about that.” Cece took a few dangerous steps towards her.

“There you are!”

Yet another person cut into the group—this time, much to Cece’s relief, it was Emmy, who immediately enfolded her in a giant, sisterly hug. “You’re being hogged up by all your admirers, Cece. Come on. Let’s take a powder and chat.”

“Paul--” Cece began lamely.

“Oh, I just talked to him. He’ll hold the toast for us.” Emmy took her arm, and deftly moved the crowd out of their way. She immediately commanded the room and took all the eyes off Cece, for which she was eternally grateful. Emmy led her out of the room and instead going to the bathroom, she maneuvered them down the hall a few a steps further and into a private suite that was unused.

Cece sat in the chair there with a great ‘whomp’ and Emmy leaned against the door with her arms folded. “Frances, what the fuck is going on out there. I know you’re supposed to be the center of attention, but you are acting the ass right now.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Cece asked. “I don’t want any of this.” She took a swig of her drink again. “Do you realize that in the space of three minutes, my fiancée, my lover, his jilted ex-girlfriend, my offsite, his ex-wife and my brother’s
new girlfriend
were all hovering around me at once. Just now. How the fuck do you expect me to act? Christ one of the guys in this room could be John and then wouldn’t that be a fine kettle of fish.” She hiccupped.

“Cee, it doesn’t matter who was around you,” Emmy said. “They don’t know the whole picture and you can’t show it to them. I know you don’t want this wedding. I know Paul doesn’t want this wedding. Anyone with half a brain can see there’s a reason you’re getting married—and it’s not for the hot sex. But you can’t draw the attention to you like that.”

“What the hell does any of it matter at this point?” Cece flopped back in the chair. “I can’t do what want when I want to. There are too many damn obligations and no one will just let Cece be.”

“So apparently you’re a giant whiny bitch now?”

Cece snapped her head up. “Excuse you?”

“You are acting like a petulant child, Frances. I
know
you don’t want to marry Paul, but you’re acting like you have no control over your life and what a load that is. You are the new prima domme and you have balls bigger than most men I know. So this ‘poor me’ routine doesn’t fly. Nor does this intoxicated idiocy you’ve drunk yourself into. You need to quit this crap and deal with it.” Emmy sat next to her. “I was exposed and I survived. Because Nathaniel did damage control, and because I was attacked by a genuine psychopath. You don’t have that luxury, and there’s no reason you should need it.”

Cece cocked her head at Emmy. “I hate when you make sense.”

“It does suck being right all the time.”

Cece threw her head back and laughed. “Emmy why the hell did it take us so long to figure out we could be friends?”

Emmy laughed and confessed. “Because I didn’t realize I could have friends in the lifestyle. I thought it was a fuck and flee, and since I don’t swing your way…”

“You are too much fun,” Cece giggled.

She was about to go on, but there was a knock at the door, and creaked open. Paul’s head peeked in. “Ladies? They are waiting for the toast.” He stepped in and closed the door. “I told them I would come and get you. Are you okay?”

Cece shrugged. “As good as it get with this sham.” Paul looked momentarily shocked, but Cece waved him off. “Oh, please. She figured it out. Emmy is the one person I know who knows what a real relationship looks like, and she spotted our fake out a mile away.”

“Well, everyone else out there is still fooled.” Paul laughed and motioned both of them to the door. “You can come back later and verbally hack the rest of the Gossip Girls to bloody ribbons after everyone fake toasts our fake wedding.”

Cece flopped her head to the side to look at Emmy, who was nodding. “He’s right. Get it over with. We’ll do our best to keep people off you.”

“Keep Saundra and Diane the furthest away, please,” Cece said. “Those two are going to end up with my stiletto up their ass.”

“In Saundra’s case, you’d be lucky to get your foot back.” Paul tried not to laugh at his statement. It didn’t work. The three of them burst into gales of laughter as they headed back to the main dining area. As Paul had promised earlier, he’d held the toast and everyone was seated and waiting for the three of them. Emmy scooted over to where Nathaniel was waiting and sat down, tossing the two of them a wink.

Paul’s best man stood, and Cece was momentarily taken back. She’d completely forgotten that Nicholas Dovadsky was also the infamous Nick D. from Silver Soul. She’d disassociated the two because Paul always talked about just Nick. But the very gorgeous lead singer was now standing there in his full rocker get up, and Cece smiled. She wondered if he was in on the ruse only briefly before he confirmed it for her.

Nick tapped his knife on the side of the toasting flute and waited for silence in the room. “So the other day, Paul walks up to me as I’m chemically dissolving some bone and says, ‘dude, you busy in six months?’ I was a little confused as I usually don’t know what the hell is going on tomorrow. ‘I’m getting married to his hot, rich chick, and I need someone to play along as my best man.’ Well, I mean what do you say to that? I’m always down for a good prank. Turns out, dude is really getting married to this hot rich chick. Who knew?”

Nick raise the glass. “So, here I am, making a toast to a friend. A good friend. A man who deserves nothing but happiness and joy in his new life. A man who should have nothing less than the perfect partner at his side. I don’t know if that’s Cece, though, dude.”

Cece pitched her dinner roll over Paul and caught Nick on the side of the head.

Nick turned and winked. “In all honesty, if you were going to pick anyone, Paul, you got a good one in Cece. She’s an honest, caring, straightforward woman who holds no secrets and pulls no punches.”

Cheeky fucking bastard,
Cece thought, grinning innocently at him. She caught sight of Wisconsin sitting on his far side, laughing her ass off. She realized most people weren’t being fooled by this marriage, and it gave her a sense of relief.

Until she realized she was going to have to kiss Paul.

Her heart dropped into her feet. She and Paul had actually become very good friends, but there was still absolutely no spark between them. They were awesome at faking it, they enjoyed being together—but there was no romance. And now she was going to have to kiss him.

Nick held the flute up. “To Paul and Cece. May your marriage be everything you dreamed it could be. May your purses be heavy, your heart be light, and holes in the wall behind the bed deep.”

Without a single hestitation, Paul turned and kissed her. It was probably for the best. Cece wasn’t in the right frame of mind to handle this well. A small consolation prize was, Paul was a good kisser. A very good kisser, and still there was nothing there for her. After an appropriately long kiss that gave everyone the idea that maybe they liked each other, he pulled back.

Cece smiled. “It’s like kissing my brother.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, like kissing mine too.”

Cece threw her head back and let her laugh ring out.

*  *  *

The stress of trying to pretend she cared about all of these people around her drove Cece back to the suite that Emmy had dragged her into earlier. She laid down on the couch for just a moment before the door burst open.

“There you are!” Diane’s shrill voice pierced the silence. She flounced into the room and giggled. “All this time, and I have still haven’t see that rock!”

Cece flopped her hand out. “Have a look. But Diane, I’m exhausted. I need a few minutes to just unwind. There are so many people.”

Diane grabbed her hand. “You ought to get used to it. I know you avoided all this when you were younger, but as a society hostess, you’re going to have learn to kiss ass. After all, they expect it and if you don’t, you get ostracized.” She studied the ring quietly a moment. “You wouldn’t want to be ostracized, would you?”

“Right now, that sounds delightful,” Cece answered.

“Oh, please,” Diane said. “You don’t hate this stuff. You grew up in it. It’s your birthright.”

“Diane, darling, I am so not into that birthright stuff. I want to be left alone with my books and my cottage and just go on each day like none of this ever happened, ever existed, or ever darkened my door step.”

“You’re not going to be a very good society wife.”