Still Life: The Randi Lassiter Series, Book 1 (18 page)

Chapter Forty-One

“More?”

Jon grinned. “I’d love more, but I need to recoup some energy first.”

Randi cocked an eyebrow at him but couldn’t keep from blushing. The wadded napkin she threw at him bounced off his chin and landed in his mashed potatoes, splattering his T-shirt with gravy.

“Are you that desperate for me to get my shirt off?”

“I was trying to hit your boxers.”

“I wish you’d focus on your food instead of sex. For goodness sake, try to control yourself.” Jon wiped off the gravy with a finger and stuck it in her mouth. As he pulled his finger slowly back out, he ran his eyes over her. Randi only had on her panties and one of his T-shirts. She kept tugging at the front of the shirt, self-conscious about her lack of bra.

He met her gaze and laughed. “You are so cute.”

Randi looked at her reflection in the wall mirror and didn’t agree with his assessment. She only saw smeared mascara and bed head. She did like the borrowed T-shirt he’d given her to wear that read:
Does this gun make me look fat
? It was a parting gift from his team in Milwaukee and she couldn’t picture him ever wearing it.

She felt herself flush and he laughed as he leaned forward to capture a gravy-stained kiss. Randi felt butterflies in her stomach and she marveled over the feeling.

After they’d lost control in the kitchen, they made their way to the bedroom and took their time exploring. Randi relished the effortlessness of such intimacy with him. He seemed delighted to learn that nibbling on her neck made her pant and when she nibbled him just about anywhere, he’d bloom into goose bumps.

They gave to each other until they were fully sated and starving for food instead of flesh. And so, with a picnic of reheated chicken on the very table they’d started on, they flirted back and forth to cover the awkwardness that had settled between them. Randi felt a twinge of guilt because right now she knew more about Jon physically than as a person. She could only imagine what provoked his discomfiture.

She just hoped it wasn’t regret.

After a few uneasy moments, Jon broke the silence. “So, how’d you hear about Truman Perry’s release?”

“Georgia called me. She wasn’t sure what was happening and wanted to know if she should take any precautions. Seems he returned to Walnut Ridge in a panic and she was feeling a little insecure about being there alone with him.” Randi chuckled. “She called to find out if he’d escaped.”

Jon smiled at the joke but didn’t laugh.

“So why didn’t Georgia call the PD?” He dipped a drumstick into his gravy and took a huge bite out of it.

Randi suddenly felt the need to defend herself but shrugged and handed him an extra napkin, pointing to his drippy chin. “Probably because she knows me. We’re in the Chamber of Commerce together. Not that that should mean much—we only see each other at monthly meetings or fund-raisers. But this whole murder situation has me spending more time with her than I ever have before.” She laughed as Jon sucked the meat off a bone. “Hungry, huh?”

He grinned and grabbed another leg.

“So, why was Truman Perry released?”

She noted Jon’s hesitation and wondered if he would tell her anything at all, but instead he explained how important it was to make certain protocols were maintained when it came to evidentiary findings and followup arrests.

“It’s supposed to make sure a citizen’s civil rights aren’t violated. We can’t arrest Truman Perry just because his art appears to be a violent rendition of our murder case. That’s circumstantial. But we are going to arrange to interview him—with or without his lawyer.”

Randi sat up a little straighter. “And?” she asked, hoping he’d give her more information.

“We work the case. Take the info we’re lucky enough to get with a grain of salt, follow up…see where it leads us.” Done with their meal, he rose and began to clear the table.

“So as far as you know there’s no connection between Larissa and Perry?”

He tossed her a dishcloth as he put leftovers into the fridge. She wiped off the table and then washed it out at the sink. “Like I said, circumstantial.”

Randi continued to fish. “Not a lot to go on.”

Jon came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “Quit trying to weasel information out of me. I can assure you that if sexual torture and fried chicken didn’t work, nothing will.” He kissed her on the shoulder.

“Will Georgia be safe if you still suspect Truman? The other guests?”

“Yeah. But contact her if you want. That’s a call I can’t make.”

“So, what’s next?” She meant as protocol to the case, but it seemed Jon had different ideas as he reached up under her shirt and cupped her as he nuzzled her neck.

“Dessert.”

Randi laughed and spun around encircling his waist with her arms. “So tight-lipped! That’s not the man I was with earlier.”

Jon suddenly looked serious, and stared at her silently until she blushed. “Thank you for what you did here. You know…the house.” He placed a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose as he changed the subject.

She shrugged off the compliment. “It was nothing. I do it all the time to sell houses. Some people don’t even clean up, let alone stage anything. I just thought with all you have going on that I’d help. At least you wouldn’t have it hanging over your head every time you walked in the door.”

He bent down and kissed her, pulling her into the living room and wrestling her onto his lap once he was seated on the couch. Dammit woke up, yawned and jumped up to join them.

It didn’t take long once the three of them were comfortable—a tangle of arms, legs and dog—to fall asleep watching the sunset over Washington Lake. Sometime in the night the pair moved back into the bedroom, where they made love one more time before drifting off again.

Chapter Forty-Two

It was later than usual when Jon pulled into the station parking lot. He hadn’t had much sleep, but he felt like he downed a bottle of Red Bull. He thought about last night and couldn’t keep from smiling. And he didn’t feel a lick of guilt over being late for the meeting. The third-shift dispatcher had called before his alarm had gone off to tell him the chief was holding an early meeting, seven sharp.

Fuck him.

He had no clue what the meeting was about, if anything pertinent had come up Terri would have called him. It was probably Thomlin making the redirect orders Jon had handed out yesterday official by grandstanding. The chief could just wait as far as he was concerned. It’s not like he hadn’t been working ’round the clock on this case…what’s one late morning? He just hoped Terri wouldn’t be able to tell that he’d gotten laid. The last thing he needed was her riding his ass all day about that. But if gossip standards held true it would be in the evening paper anyway.

Jon entered the small conference room carrying a cup of coffee he’d grabbed on the way. The oval table was full, everyone’s attention focused at the front of the room where Terri was giving a review of the evidence from updated files. Jon tried to sneak in the back and sit down as quietly as possible in the only chair still available.

He listened for a minute, trying to catch up. He couldn’t figure out why Terri would be going over the same info he’d outlined yesterday. Terri turned from the board and noticed him, stopping mid-sentence, nearly choking on her own words before she got back on track. His what-the-hell look only made her bite down on her lip and look away. Jon made eye contact with Chief Thomlin, who stood abruptly to halt Terri’s speech.

In hindsight, Jon should have looked around the room before sitting down. At least he would have had some warning, maybe even had time to hightail it out of there. What he’d failed to notice was that there was someone new joining them with her back to the door.

“Glad to see you decided to join us, Jon.” Chief Thomlin glared at him. “Let me catch you up.” He made a show of looking at his wristwatch. “I’d like you to meet the DCI field agent that Madison sent to help us on the Leuenberger case. This is Rebecca Howell.”

Becca swiveled in her chair and greeted him with a smart-ass grin. The only thing missing was a white cat on her lap for her to stroke.

Jon blanched, went to set his coffee down as he kept his eyes on their guest and dumped the cup into the middle of the table instead.

“Shit!” Coffee splashed over, forcing everyone to grab their laptops and paperwork and retreat from the encroaching brown tide.

Terri gave a disapproving look and threw a roll of paper towels to him. He used what was left on the roll to mop up the table as everyone returned to their seats.

“Sorry,” Jon muttered, red-faced.

Terri continued where she left off as Jon tried to focus on a folder that Trujillo had passed to him. He kept his head down but couldn’t help but sneak a glance now and then at Becca from under his brow, all the while praying she wouldn’t notice. She did.

Terri finished her recap and gave the floor back to the chief. Jon, his mind racing, didn’t really hear what he was saying. Something about the team effort, appreciation for the Madison field office and let’s-catch-our-man rah-rah bullshit.

The meeting was over. People got up and strolled from the room, some stopping at Becca’s side to introduce themselves. Jon took the opportunity to sneak out via the back door. Terri, however, proved to be the stealthier ninja and caught him in the hall.

“Nice entrance there, Ace.”

“Uh-huh.”

Terri followed him. “Hey, what is wrong with you?” She grabbed his arm, spinning him to face her. If he ever forgot how much she worked out, the fact she nearly tore his arm off right now would help remind him. “Please tell me you are
not
intimidated by this CA. Don’t turn this into a pissing contest. You’re better than that. Just because she’s here consulting doesn’t mean she’s going to take over the case.”

Jon’s head fell forward and he stared at the floor. “This is bad on so many levels.”

“Oh, come on. You used to work with her, so what? Surely you can handle her.”

“Oh, I know how to handle her, I just don’t want to.”

Just then Becca caught up with them.

“Good morning, Detective.” Jon wanted to slap that smug grin off her face.

“Did you sharpen your teeth for this visit, Becca?”

“Good to see you again too.”

Jon said nothing.

“Listen, you may have lost some of your professional ethics in the short time you’ve lived here in Mt. Podunkville—”

“Ex-cuse me?” said Terri.

“—But I still deserve some common courtesy, if not your cooperation.”

He rolled his eyes, making sure she saw it.

“I am not here to placate you, babysit you, or stroke your bruised ego. I am here to do my job and that job is to assist this jurisdiction in finding your murderer.”

“That’s not your fucking job, Becca. Your job is to stick your nose as far into our business as you can. We do not need to include you in our investigation in order for you to do your job. When we are done processing our evidence, you can bet your ass we will pass it along.”

“Not your call.”

“I see you still like to be in control. Some things never change.”

“That’s always been your problem, Jon. You’re afraid to change.”

Terri’s eyes went wide at the exchange as she put the pieces together. After all, this kind of spite didn’t come from professional disagreements.

“Ooooh shit.”

With the initial flare-up over with, Becca didn’t look mad or hurt, just disappointed.

“Excuse me, I have work to do.” Jon walked away, leaving the two women standing in the hallway.

Chapter Forty-Three

Terri crossed her ankles as she leaned on the doorjamb. She picked imaginary lint off her sweater and waited for Jon to acknowledge her.

“Get your butt in here already,” he said without looking up from his work.

“You know, Carrie Ann didn’t always run the market by herself, she had a business partner when it first opened. They were lovers.”

The word “lovers” caught his attention. Jon leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He readied himself for a parable that would undoubtedly have profound correlation to his behavior toward Becca and solve all his problems, then go on to create world peace.

“Yeah, but things didn’t go well once they became business partners. They couldn’t see eye to eye on how to run things and it got pretty bad. They nearly lost everything. In the end they saved the business by breaking up. It took a long time, but once they worked out their personal crap the market thrived. They had to let go of their past to see them into the future.”

When Jon didn’t react she rose to leave. “Just remember, you don’t have to like her, but you do have to do your job.” She paused in the doorway. “And you’re good at that.” Terri walked away, leaving him to feel like shit.

Terri was right. He needed to do the right thing, needed to fix things. A minute later he was the one hovering outside Becca’s makeshift office. She turned in her chair when he cleared his throat.

Becca’s eyes widened, but she remained silent. Jon pulled up a chair.

“I wanted to apologize.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I was just caught off guard when I saw you there. Like that day at the lab, only worse.”

Becca took a moment to respond, Jon could almost hear the gears grinding in her head. “Understandable,” she said at last. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, how often do you get the opportunity to make a complete fool of yourself in front of your ex-fiance and his new partner.” She laughed as she placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed. “Come to think of it, when you hit the door this morning you looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. Something on the case you’d care to share?”

Jon blanched. He shook his head. It bothered him that she could still read him so easily.

“Hmmm…” she said as she contemplated his lie. Jon went for his poker face.

Big mistake. Becca cleaned up at poker.

Becca narrowed her all too astute eyes at him, taking in every detail—quickly combed hair, sleep-deprived eyes… He actually saw the moment she recognized the truth.

“You dog! You got yourself laid. So…who’s the girl?” She suddenly sat at attention, ready to hang on his every word.

Jon’s eyes hardened until she stopped smiling. “Old wounds, Becca. We’re not doing this sharing of personal information thing.” And he meant it. His life was no longer her concern. She’d sent him packing and had no right to hear about anything in his private life.

Becca held her hands up. “Okay, I’m good. Just curious. It’s in our job description after all.”

He nodded and turned to business. “So, why did the chief call the DOJ? We don’t need your help with this case. In fact, we have a suspect we’re bringing in today.”

Becca crossed her arms. “Well, contrary to what the chief said in the meeting, I’m not here to help you. You are going to help me.” She grabbed a file off the credenza behind her and tossed it on the table in front of him. “I saw your murder case post on MOCIC and told your boss I think Leuenberger’s murder is part of something bigger. He was concerned that there would be a backlash with a CA showing up all of a sudden. I told him he could spin it any way he wanted but that I’d see him in the morning.”

“So you have a lead on our homicide?”

Becca sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I think your homicide might be a lead on my serial murder case.”