Never Sorry: A Leigh Koslow Mystery (3 page)

Tanner nodded, then drew a breath. "Who was killed?"

"We don't know, and we won't find out until we can get to the body," Frank replied irritably. "Now, how long will this take?"

It took hours, or so it seemed to Leigh. She sat miserably on the brick wall outside the tiger run, feeling slighted that Tanner didn't need her help, but also relieved. Relieved that her eyes wouldn't be given any further fodder for nightmares.

Yet patience had never been one of her virtues, and after ten minutes of torturous inactivity, she decided to see what fate had befallen her car. The employee lot ran along the far side of the tiger run, the entrance being farther down the hill and around a bend. Leigh walked down the path and over to the gate, which was standing open, evidently to admit the police. Normally, the gate stayed locked, except at shift changes when it was monitored by a guard. Employees could leave through the one-way turnstile, but after-hours arrivals had to be more covert. Leigh had been taught on her first day how to sneak under the fence where it crossed a chasm—and she had found the path well worn.

She walked through the open gate and out into the brightly lit parking lot, but didn't get far. Yellow tape outlined a large area abutting the tiger run—and the "secret" entrance. Leigh swallowed. Being basically lazy, she had parked her car as close to the hole as she could get. A cluster of people buzzed about the Cavalier, one pointing at the driver's door, another photographing it. Two other people in uniform walked away from the car and toward the hole, gesturing at the ground.

"You shouldn't be out here, Miss," a stern voice called.

Leigh turned around to see a portly, red-headed policeman standing by the employee gate. He hadn't been there before. Had he followed her?

"Come on back and have a seat," he urged, more politely. "We'll be leaving shortly."

She saw no point in arguing, as her car was clearly going nowhere soon. It was only as she turned back toward the gate that she saw the lot's only other occupant, a red Grand Am, parked on the far side of the entrance. Leigh's eyes were drawn instantly to the vanity plate adorning its rear. CAKY-10. She sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. There could be no more question about it. Caky was Carmen's nickname, and she had always thought of herself as a ten.

C.A.K.
Carmen Andrea Koslow
.

Chapter 3

Leigh sat miserably on the stone wall for another fifteen minutes before Detective Frank reappeared, a defeated-looking Tanner in tow. Tanner put a sympathetic hand briefly on her shoulder, then sat down beside her. Frank, Leigh noticed, did not miss the gesture.

"Miss Koslow," the detective began, his voice assuming an edge that made her nervous. "We have reason to believe the deceased may indeed be a keeper here, Miss Carmen Koslow. Is she any relation to you?"

Leigh took in a deep breath. It was a question she had been asked countless times before. Once, on an occasion she preferred not to remember, by another policeman. She gave the same answer she always gave, and was glad it was the truth. "Not that I know of. But there are several Koslows in the area—we might be related way back."
And if we are, I'd rather not know about it.

The detective didn't scribble this time, but stared at her with penetrating dark eyes—a stark contrast to his pale face. "Did you know Carmen Koslow before you came to work here?"

Leigh swallowed and nodded. "We went to middle school and high school together. At North Hills. We were thrown together because of our names, but we weren't close. Until I came to work here, I had no idea where she was or what she was doing."

Frank had decided to scribble after all. He pulled out his notebook, propped his leg up on the wall and started to write on his knee. The action brought on a coughing spasm so severe it made Leigh's own lungs hurt. When he had recovered, he spoke. "Before you started working here, how long had it been since you last saw her?"

Leigh paused. She had grudgingly attended her ten-year reunion a few years ago, but Carmen hadn't been there. "Not since high school graduation," she answered.

Tanner, who had sat through the interrogation with his head in his hands, turned to look at her. "You weren't friends?" he asked quietly, a puzzled expression on his face.

Leigh couldn't help casting a glance at Frank, who of course had heard the question and was now watching her like a hawk. "Not particularly," she answered vaguely, wishing Tanner would keep his mouth shut. What had Carmen told him, anyway?

Frank looked at her for a long moment. She was normally good at staring games, but the detective was better. She looked away, her anxiety growing. "Are we going to the bureau now?"

The detective stopped staring at her and began nibbling on the end of his pen. "In a few minutes," he mumbled. "You two stay here until we call you."

Frank returned to the tiger run, and when he was out of earshot, Leigh turned to Tanner. "Can't you just drive us in your truck?"

Tanner shook his head sadly. "They're doing something with it, I don't know what. It's parked way over in the main lot, so I'm not sure why it's important." He stretched out his long legs in front of him and sighed.

"I can't believe she's gone. I never thought anyone would do this to her."

Leigh watched him closely. His voice was filled with sorrow, his deep-blue eyes moist. He must have known Carmen fairly well. Furthermore, he must have known a side of her that Leigh hadn't.

"She told me you were one of her favorite people in high school," he continued morosely. Then he gave a small smile. "I wasn't surprised. You seemed like a fun girl to be around."

Leigh forced herself to smile back. So Carmen had spoken well of her. That wasn't too surprising. One learned not to be surprised by anything Carmen did.

A sudden roar from one of the tigers sent prickles up her spine. The big cats were awake already. And the body?

She turned to Tanner. "You're sure it was Carmen?"

He winced suddenly and turned away from her. After another moment with his head in his hands, he answered. "They haven't recovered the whole body. At least not yet. There were—" he broke off, then cleared his throat into a fist. "They found legs and one arm. That's all."

Leigh's stomach made a move for her throat, but she willed it down. Two legs and an arm? Where was the rest? She asked the obvious question. "Could the tigers—"

Tanner shook his head violently. "No way. They were well fed. They weren't eating what they had, just—"

He stopped, but Leigh knew enough about cats to guess the statement's unpleasant ending.
Just playing with it
.

"The police think the rest of the body was dragged out under the fence." He stated flatly.

Leigh thought of the rustling leaves she had heard when she first approached the shed, and her heart rate increased. "Did Detective Frank tell you this?"

Tanner shook his head. "Frank didn't tell me anything. I overheard the cops talking while I was monitoring the tigers."

"Then they can't really know for sure that it's Carmen," Leigh offered, though personally she had no doubt.

He shook his head again. "There's more. Her purse and keys were still in the shed, along with her torn clothes—and there was a clump of hair on the floor, stuck in the door jamb."

Leigh didn't have to ask what type of hair it was. Carmen's waist-length jet black mane had been her pride and joy.

"And there was another thing," he said miserably. "The tigers left—" he stopped, swallowed, and continued. "There were rings still on her hand. I recognized one."

Leigh's stomach performed another odd maneuver, and she wondered if it would ever feel normal again. She was not, and had never been, a bosom buddy of Carmen Koslow's, but she
was
sorry the woman was dead. Coming upon the gruesome scene had unsettled her thoroughly, and as if that weren't disturbing enough, she had Detective Frank's odd demeanor to worry about too. Now, adding insult to injury, there was a look of pain in Tanner's eyes that no self-respecting woman could misinterpret, and she didn't care for it one bit.

"You recognized one of Carmen's rings?"

Tanner nodded, and sighed again. "Yep," he said softly, falling back into an even thicker Southern accent. "I gave it to her."

***

The Central Detective's Bureau would not have been Leigh's first choice of a location to spend her pre-dawn hours, but her preferences seemed not to matter. She was whisked away in a patrol car before she had a chance to pry further into Tanner's relationship with Carmen, and was fingerprinted before she had a chance to sit down. To add further insult, Frank had insisted that a female officer accompany her into the restroom while she traded her bloody uniform for jail apparel. The bright orange jumpsuit put her at a distinct psychological disadvantage as she faced Frank across the table in the interrogation room. To make matters worse, she couldn't get the ink off her fingers, and she was pretty sure there was still blood in her hair.

"Now," Frank began offhandedly, "I know you've already answered questions at the scene, but we're going to need an official statement on audiotape as well. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak with an attorney and to have an attorney present during questioning. If you so desire and cannot afford one, an attorney will be appointed for you without charge before the questioning begins. Do you understand these rights as I have read them?"

Leigh's mouth had dropped open on the second sentence. "Excuse me," she said when her senses were partially recovered. "Did I miss something? Am I being arrested?"

The detective closed his red-rimmed eyes and sighed heavily. "You people watch too much TV. The Miranda warning isn't only for individuals under arrest. Before we take a statement from anyone who's a potential suspect, we read them their rights."

Leigh's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She didn't entirely trust Frank, but she had no reason to assume he didn't go by the book. The words "potential suspect" were not reassuring, but she had done nothing wrong, so what did it matter?

"Do you waive and give up those rights?" Frank pressed impatiently.

Leigh ground her teeth. Even if she didn't do anything, she
should
probably still get a lawyer. But who? Criminal defense lawyers cost money she didn't have. A public defender? She looked at her watch. 4:00 AM. Did PD's work night shifts? Fat chance.

She sighed and shifted in her seat. Surely there would be no harm in just telling her story straight and getting it over with. Any funny stuff and she'd clam up.

Frank drummed his fingers on the table and stared at her.

"Fine," she said, a little more obstinately than she intended. "Tape away."

At the detective's prompting, she repeated her story, careful not to say anything more than was absolutely necessary. When she had finished, he began with a new line of questions.

"How would you describe the relationship you had with Carmen Koslow when you were both still in high school?"

She blinked. Why would he care? "Casual."

"You never spent a great deal of time together?"

An image flashed in Leigh's mind of another police station, another day. Of the attorney's bill her father had dutifully paid.

"No," she answered firmly.

Frank followed up with a few questions about her relationships with other zoo employees. When he moved to her relationship with Tanner, she'd had enough.

"I'd like to go home now," she said politely, not wanting to look guilty of anything. "I'm too tired to think. Can we continue this some time when I've been up less than 24 hours straight?"

Frank looked at her thoughtfully, but nodded. "That'll be enough for now. In the meantime, don't leave town. We may be speaking with you again."

Leigh wanted to say she was looking forward to it, but that would be a bald-faced lie.

"Do you need a ride home," he asked with uncharacteristic chivalry as he showed her back to the waiting area, "or is there someone you can call to pick you up?"

Without thinking, Leigh glanced around the room. The detective was quick. "Dr. Tanner is still being questioned. If you want to wait for him, fine. But it may be a while."

She cursed herself for being so transparent. The last thing she needed was to encourage Frank's sniffing around her interest in Tanner. Particularly if Tanner and Carmen—.

"I'm going home now," she said quickly, interrupting her own thoughts. "I can call someone to pick me up."

"Suit yourself," Frank replied, and left her alone in the waiting area.

Someone to pick me up. And who might that be?
There was a difference in the kind of friend you'd go to a movie with and the kind of friend you'd drag out of bed at a quarter to five in the morning to pick you up at a police station. In the latter category, Leigh's options were limited. Her cousin was out the question—Cara had a new baby to take care of. There was her old college pal-cum-politician Warren—she could always count on him. But for this particular dilemma, special expertise was needed.