The Heart of A Killer (19 page)

His short vacation was about to get longer.

Anna heard the buzzing, knew it was her phone, but wanted more than anything to ignore it.

Phone meant work or bad news. She’d had all the bad news she could handle. She was full up.

And she’d had nightmare-free sleep. Couldn’t she just continue with that?

The buzzing intensified.

“Well, hell.” She reached out from under the covers and grabbed her phone, read the display and punched the button. “Yeah.”

It was Roman. “You sound like you’re asleep.”

“I was. What’s up?”

“I did some research into the companies in the buildings backing the alley. The north-side building has a key-card entry system that logs who goes in and out and when. There were three people there last night during the time period of the murder.”

She sat up in bed, swept her hair out of her face and blinked several times to force her eyes open. “And the south-side building?”

“Security guard signs people in and out. He said no one was in the building last night, so it’s just those three on the north side.”

“Okay. Got names?”

“Yup. Figured you’d want to do interviews.”

“You figured right. What time?”

“About eleven?”

The clock said she had an hour. “I’ll meet you there.”

She threw on clothes and decided against making coffee, figuring she’d hit a drive-through on her way to meet Roman. That way she wouldn’t wake Dante.

She crept down the hall, saw him sleeping facedown on the bed, his gun peeking out from under his pillow.

She closed his door. As she tiptoed out of the house, she felt a twinge of guilt for not waking him.

He didn’t have to do everything with her, and he needed the sleep as much as she did, especially after dealing with her meltdown last night.

At least that’s what she told herself. The reality of it was, he was already too close to her and she needed the break.

She’d fill him in on the interviews later.

She climbed into her car and headed into town, zooming into a drive-through for some much-needed caffeine. Roman was waiting for her in the lobby of the bank building.

“Where’s Dante?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Not joining us on this one. I’ll catch him up to speed later on.”

“Okay. So there’s a law firm that takes up the entire third floor. Two associates were working last night ’til about two in the morning.”

She walked alongside Roman toward the elevator. “Third floor would give them a good view. Who else?”

“Some corporate jock, head of a marketing firm on the fifth floor. He was here until past midnight. His offices only front the north side of the building, though.”

She nodded. “Okay. We’ll talk to the corporate jock just in case, but I doubt he’ll be of any use. I’m primarily interested in the attorneys. Are they clocked in now?”

“Yeah. I checked at the front desk when I got here.”

She lifted her phone. It was almost eleven-thirty. Damn, she really had gotten some sleep.

Dante had also called her. Twice. She hadn’t answered, instead sent him a text that she was running down some leads and she’d get back with him later.

Roth, Llewelyn and Macy was a typical law firm. All expensive wood paneling and quirky architecture as the elevator doors opened. Fresh flowers flanked the reception desk, along with the attractive young blonde sitting behind it.

“May I help you?” she asked.

Anna flashed her badge. “I need to see Margaret Atkinson and Larry Stevens.”

She lifted her nose a couple inches in the air. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” she said.

“Then may I ask what this is regarding?”

“No, you may not. But you can pick up your phone and tell them this is police business and they can hustle their asses out here, or we can do this down at the station.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “One moment, please.”

It didn’t take long to get a response. But instead of the two associates she got an older guy with slightly graying hair and a very expensive suit.

“I’m Roger Macy, one of the senior partners of this firm. Can I help you?”

“Detective Anna Pallino of the St. Louis Police Department. We’re investigating a murder that occurred in the alley last night. We understand two of your associates were working late last night and would like to speak to them to ascertain if they saw anything.”

“Ah, yes. We heard about the murder in the alley behind this building. Two of them so far, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Was it someone who worked in this building?”

“No, sir. The victims are unrelated to the tenants here.”

“All right. Let me gather my associates in the conference room. Do you mind if I’m present for the questioning?”

“Not at all.”

Lawyers. Anna looked to Roman, who shrugged.

They were led to the conference room and instructed to wait. The room was stark white, no pictures on the walls. It had a long, smooth cherry table and a ton of comfortable chairs, a credenza on either side and a stellar view of the alley through the wide windows.

“Good view of the Dumpster,” Anna said.

“Not sure what you could see in the dark.” Roman pressed his nose to the glass.

Anna looked over his shoulder. “Doubtful someone would be looking out that way. But maybe they heard something and looked down. Plus, there’s a light over the Dumpster area. We’ll see.”

They turned when the door opened. Macy came in with a man and a woman, both in their late twenties, good-looking. Both looked nervous, though the guy pressed his hand to the small of the woman’s back as if to comfort her.

Hmm.

She was pretty, with long, dark blond hair pulled up in a sleek ponytail. She wore a pencil skirt and a nondescript white silk blouse. He was in a gray suit, impeccably tailored.

Macy introduced them both.

“Have a seat. This isn’t an interrogation,” Anna said. “We know you were both working late last night, and a murder occurred outside in the alley behind this building.”

Margaret Atkinson nodded. “We heard the sirens while we were working, then saw it on the news this morning.”

“Yes. We were wondering which offices you were working in.”

“Here in the conference room,” Larry said. “We’re working on the same case. Trial’s coming up, so we’re reviewing depositions and witness lists and preparing pretrial motions.”

“Did you at any time have cause to look out the window here?”

Margaret looked at Larry, then shook her head. “No, we pretty much stayed at the table the entire time.”

“We have a deadline,” Larry added after watching Margaret while she spoke. “We didn’t leave the conference room.”

“It was a late night and we had a lot of paperwork to do,” Margaret said.

“You didn’t hear anything unusual outside?” Anna asked.

“No. We were wrapped up in…the case,” Margaret said, her nervous gaze darting to Larry. “We didn’t hear a thing. Until the sirens, of course.”

Larry offered a serious look. “We’re very focused. A bomb could go off and we wouldn’t have heard it. We didn’t leave our chairs, until as Margaret said, we heard the police arrive.”

“We went downstairs then to see what was going on,” Margaret said, “but they wouldn’t let us pass because they already had the police tape up.”

“At that point we figured we should get out of everyone’s way, plus we had to be here early this morning, so we wrapped things up and headed out,” Larry added.

“What time was that?” Anna asked.

“Around two,” Larry said.

Anna remained silent, wondering if either would add anything.

Larry looked from Margaret to their boss. “We have the paperwork prepared if you’d like to check it all over.”

Macy waved his hand. “Unnecessary.”

“How long were you in this room?” Anna asked. “Hours.”

“Most of the night,” Margaret said, her gaze once again flitting to Larry before coming back to Anna and Roman. “From the time the office closed until we left. We ordered takeout to be delivered. I think…Larry, you have the receipts for that?”

“I do.”

“Motions had to be filed this morning,” Margaret said. “So we stayed and worked through the night until we were finished.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Detectives,” Mr. Macy said, “I’m sure you can tell my associates didn’t see or hear anything.”

They were getting nowhere. Anna pulled her card. “Please do your best to try to remember everything from last night. Even the smallest detail could be of use. An unusual sound, anything that seemed out of the ordinary or may have caught your attention, even if it was for only a few seconds. If you got up to glance out the window and you saw anything that springs to mind, give me a call.”

“They certainly will, Detective,” Macy said, sliding her card across the table and slipping it into his coat pocket.

She thanked them and they left the office.

As soon as they hit the elevator and the door closed, Anna turned to Roman.

“Working on briefs, my ass. Maybe she was in
his
briefs.”

“Agreed,” Roman said. “The only thing they saw in that conference room was each other. The killer could have hung a body outside the window and they wouldn’t have noticed.”

Anna wrinkled her nose. Crude, but accurate as far as the witnesses. “Yeah, pretty useless. The two of them were skirting glances back and forth like crazy. I think they were more afraid of the boss finding out they’d been boinking all night instead of working.”

The corporate dude on the other floor was a bust, too. His office fronted the street instead of the alley. He’d only worked until about eleven, had parked on the street side and he hadn’t seen or heard a thing.

Useless. They were due for a break, and soon.

Thirteen

D
ante was parked in front when Anna drove past the precinct, so she parked on the street and walked up toward him.

He leaned against his car, arms crossed, his expression unfathomable behind his mirrored shades. Did he have to look so impossibly sexy in his worn jeans and tight T-shirt?

Women passing by on the street paused, looked over their shoulders and ogled. And why wouldn’t they? He was gorgeous. Well worth a second look. Even a third.

She wanted to kick them for ogling, which was ludicrous. He wasn’t hers. She had no claim on him. She didn’t know what pissed her off more—the women staring or her irritation over it.

He seemed to be oblivious to the stares he got, his attention fully on her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, deciding to ignore his rock-god status from the sidewalk groupies mentally dragging their tongues over him.

“Figured you’d show up here eventually.” He pushed off the car and came toward her.

“I’m surprised you didn’t use your supercomputer to figure out my whereabouts.”

“I could have, but no point. You were with Roman.”

“How did you know that?”

“I called him when I woke up and saw you weren’t there. He told me you were meeting him.”

“Smart-ass,” she said, starting up the steps. “You talk to my captain yet?”

“As a matter of fact, we had donuts and coffee together this morning.”

She stopped, pivoted on the steps to face him. “You did not.”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “Did, too. He likes me. Actually, he really likes me since I brought him donuts.”

Captain Pohanski was a dick. He didn’t like anyone. He didn’t appreciate his precinct messed with. And he especially didn’t like the FBI, who he often referred to as a bunch of inept, interfering ass wipes.

“I can guarantee Pohanski doesn’t like you.”

“If you say so.” He waited for her to turn and go inside.

“You’re bullshitting me.”

He dragged his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and gave her a look with those baby blues of his that melted her to the steps.

“You going in or not?” he asked.

She turned and went inside, grateful the air-conditioning was in prime working order today. Between the heat, the way he looked and those steamy looks he was giving her, she was hot. Plenty hot.

“Pallino.”

She cringed at the sound of Captain Pohanski’s bellow. “Yes, sir.”

“Get in here.”

She lifted her gaze to Dante’s, who took a seat at the chair next to her desk and stretched out his legs. “I’ll just wait here.”

“You do that.”

She took a slow walk toward the captain’s office.

Pohanski was a short round Pillsbury Doughboy of a man, with a ruddy complexion and jowls. His shifty, narrow eyes made him look more like a criminal than a cop. He was also a damn fine police officer who knew his shit. He had thirty years of perfect service under his belt and ran his precinct loosely, preferring to let his cops do their jobs rather than keeping his thumb on top of them. But you never, ever wanted to be called into his office, because if you got caught on his radar, you got an ass chewing you never forgot.

What the hell had Dante gone and done?

“Shut the door.” Oh, hell.

She did, and moved in front of his desk, which looked as if it had been burglarized. There were crumpled notes, Post-its everywhere—Pohanski didn’t believe in technology—pencils, two empty coffee cups, a mountain of files, one dusty desktop computer that wasn’t turned on and about fifteen note pads.

“This murder investigation you’re working? The two dead in the alley?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A real clusterfuck.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Could be a serial.”

“It’s looking that way.”

“Any particular reason you haven’t filled me in about it lately?”

“I was on my way to do that when you called me in, sir.”

“Uh-huh.” He tapped the pencil on the quarter of an inch of desktop that was visible. “So this Dante Renaldi, the FBI agent that’s insinuated himself into the case.”

“Yes, sir. About that…”

“Sharp sonofabitch. I’m a little pissed off about the government bureaucracy and the fact that he’s pushed himself onto this case, but he explained about George Clemons and Jeff Barrone and his relationship to them. In his shoes, I’d do the same thing. I hate the FBI and all their bullshit, but I like him.”