You Belong to Me (7 page)

She sighed. She’d planned to text from her cell from the club.
Guess that’s out.
‘Okay. I’ll call. From home,’ she added when he glared.

‘All right.’

Monday, May 3, 10.35 A.M.

‘This is the place,’ Stevie said, looking out the passenger window. JD had driven to Christopher Jones’s house while Stevie had navigated the telephone maze of departments at the university. After four transfers and fifteen minutes of elevator music – which JD was more than a little disturbed to find she actually enjoyed – Stevie had been connected with the right person with access to the right university records.

Christopher Jones had not attended the university’s med school.

JD pulled to the curb. ‘There’s a wheelchair ramp in front.’

‘And a handicapped tag on the van in the driveway,’ Stevie noted. She pulled a coin from her pocket to flip for the chore of notifying next of kin. ‘Heads or tails?’

‘Heads.’

She flipped and made a sympathetic face. ‘Tails. You want me to take this one?’

JD shook his head with a frown. ‘I’m no welcher, Mazzetti. Let’s do this.’

They went up to the house and JD pressed the bell. The door opened, revealing a middle-aged man in a wheelchair. His hair was streaked with gray, his nose a little off-center. ‘Yes? Can I help you?’

‘I’m Detective Fitzpatrick and this is my partner, Detective Mazzetti. We’d like to speak to Mrs Christopher Jones.’

‘I’m Mr Christopher Jones. What’s this about?’

JD blinked in surprise and from the corner of his eye saw Stevie do the same. ‘You’re Christopher Jones?’ he asked.

The man rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t have time for this.’

‘Wait.’ JD put his hand on the door when the man started to close it. ‘Sir, your name has come up in a homicide investigation. May we come in?’

The man’s face drained of color. ‘Oh my God. He did it. He really did it. I thought he was just blowing smoke, trying to get her to back off on her custody claim. I didn’t think he’d really . . .’ His shoulders sagged. ‘When? When did he kill her?’

Again JD blinked. ‘Sir, I think you’ve misunderstood. Your name came up in our investigation as the deceased.’

The man narrowed his eyes. ‘But I’m not dead.’

‘We can see that,’ JD said. ‘May we come in, Mr Jones?’

Christopher Jones backed his chair into a large foyer, still frowning. ‘Please.’

‘Mr Jones, have you ever had plastic surgery on your face?’ JD asked.

Jones touched his face, the gesture a self-conscious one. ‘Yes. I was in a car accident five years ago. Crushed my face and severed my spinal cord. Why?’

‘Did you have cheek implants?’ JD persisted.

‘Yes. I did.
Why?
’ Jones repeated testily.

‘Because implants registered to you were found in a body discovered this morning.’ JD studied the man’s face, watching surprise flicker in his eyes.

‘It’s a mistake,’ Jones said. ‘I still have my implants, thank you very much.’

‘Who did your surgery?’ Stevie asked.

‘Dr Russell Bennett,’ Jones said. ‘He has a practice downtown.’

‘We’ll talk to him,’ JD promised. ‘Thank you.’ He opened the door to let them out, but Stevie didn’t move. She was looking at Christopher Jones.

‘Sir,’ she said, ‘this isn’t our business – yet. But just now you seemed like you really thought your client’s husband had killed her. Even if you think he’s blowing smoke, your client should report the threat. I’d hate for it to become our business.’

Jones nodded reluctantly. ‘I’ll suggest she does that.’

‘Thank you,’ Stevie said. ‘You have a good day.’

As soon as they got to the car, Stevie was back on the phone, dialing the university. After a few transfers she got their answer and flipped her phone closed. ‘Russell Bennett graduated from University of Maryland’s medical school.’

‘A plastic surgeon who went to Maryland. He could be our vic.’ JD started the car. ‘But if we get there and
he’s
still alive, what’s Plan B? If he goofed and switched implants, he could get into trouble. He’s going to be cagey about answering questions.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Stevie pulled down her visor mirror and studied her reflection. ‘You think I have enough wrinkles to make Bennett believe I’m there for a consult?’

JD choked on a laugh. ‘I think I’m taking the Fifth on that one.’

‘Probably a wise move on your part.’ She peeked down her blouse, then looked over at him with a grin. ‘Let’s throw in a boob job. That he’ll believe.’

He had to grin back. Stevie’s smile was infectious. ‘What’s my role?’

‘You’re my spouse. Rich, indulgent, and dissatisfied with my lack of curves.’

JD sobered abruptly. ‘Paul wasn’t dissatisfied with a single thing about you.’

Her smile faltered. ‘I know. I was lucky.’

‘Anyone who knew him was.’ There weren’t many who’d met Paul Mazzetti who hadn’t counted him a friend.

Except for the punk who’d killed him. Paul had been shot down in cold blood for being in the wrong place, wrong time and having the nerve to disobey a convenience store robber’s commands in order to protect his child. A pregnant Stevie had buried her husband and son, and it was only the knowledge that the child she carried needed her that helped her go on. Five year old Cordelia never met her father.

Stevie had persevered, using the tragedy to help others. The grief support groups she sponsored for cops changed lives.
Including mine
. JD owed Stevie one hell of a lot. Maybe his very life.

Stevie’s lips tipped up sadly. ‘Let’s go meet Dr Bennett, unless we already have.’

He was about to pull away from the curb when his cell buzzed. ‘Fitzpatrick.’

‘Detective, this is Lucy Trask.’

Reflex had him sitting straighter in his seat. ‘Yes, Dr Trask. What do you have?’

‘I think the victim was flash frozen. Are you familiar with that?’

‘Like they do to vegetables?’ he asked. ‘Flash frozen,’ he said to Stevie.

‘Exactly,’ Trask said. ‘The freezer would have to be huge – industrial-sized. If I were you, I’d start with food packaging plants.’

JD relayed the information to Stevie who was already on her laptop, searching for local food packaging facilities. ‘That has to be helpful,’ he said to Trask. ‘Oh, and we’ve just left Christopher Jones.’

‘You mean his house?’

‘That, too. He was there, in the cheek-implanted flesh. He was very annoyed to find we thought him dead.’

‘But . . . that doesn’t make sense, Detective.’

‘It does if the surgeon goofed,’ he said. ‘The surgeon’s name is Russell Bennett.’ JD heard the sharp intake of her breath, then silence. ‘Dr Trask?’

‘Bennett? Russell Bennett? Are you sure?’

He frowned. ‘Yes, we’re sure. Why?’

‘Him, I know,’ she murmured.

Chapter Four

Monday, May 3, 11.00 A.M.

L
ucy fumbled as she hung up the phone, unable to look away from the mutilated body on her exam table. JD Fitzpatrick’s voice still echoed in her ears. Russell Bennett.

Russell Bennett. No, it’s not possible.

But it was. He was about the right age, height and weight. He’d gone to Maryland’s med school. She remembered seeing the diploma on the wall of his living room. It was entirely possible. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered.

It was impossible to see Russ’s face in the obscene mass of blunt trauma that lay before her. Still she stared, trying to connect some detail of the man she’d known with the body that had been so abused. Other than basic size, there was none.

‘Hey, kid.’ Ruby poked her head in the door. ‘You free for lunch?’ She came into the room, her brows furrowed. ‘You don’t look so good. What happened?’

Lucy swallowed hard, then dropped her eyes back to the dead man. He didn’t look back. He had no eyes. Whoever killed him had taken his eyes.
Why?
‘I knew him.’

‘You knew Christopher Jones? How?’

‘I was wrong,’ Lucy said numbly. ‘Christopher Jones is alive.’

Ruby came around the table and grasped Lucy’s chin, tilting her head so that their eyes met. ‘You’re whiter than he is, girl. Sit down.’

‘I’m fine,’ Lucy said, but found herself pushed down to the stool.

‘I said, sit down.’ Ruby sat on the other stool. ‘Now tell me what this is about.’

Lucy told her what Fitzpatrick had said about the cheek implants and Ruby blinked.

‘Wow. Who could have predicted that? But you don’t know this body is the surgeon, this Russell Bennett character. You just know he did Jones’s implant.’

Lucy shook her head. ‘I knew him. There’s a connection now.’

Ruby’s eyes widened. ‘Knew, or
knew
?’

‘Just knew. I didn’t
know
him.’
But I might have. Eventually
. ‘I know his parents. The Bennetts are good people.’
This will break their hearts
.

‘So what are you gonna do?’

‘Nothing. I’m going to sit here until Stevie and Fitzpatrick get here. If you wouldn’t mind, take . . .’
Russ
. No, it wasn’t Russ Bennett anymore. She drew a shaky breath. ‘Take the deceased back to the cold room. I shouldn’t have any more contact with this case. I found him, I knew him.’
And we had words
. She wanted to wince. She’d had a lot more than words with him. ‘I might be a suspect.’

Ruby scoffed. ‘You were set up to find him. The cops will see that.’

When everything was known, Lucy imagined they would.
But everything would have to be known
. She struggled to keep her voice calm because every muscle in her body had clenched. ‘I’m sure you’re right. But for now, remove the deceased. Please.’

Ruby stood up and yanked on a pair of gloves. ‘Fine.’ She wagged a finger at Lucy’s face. ‘But don’t you say one word to those detectives, I don’t care how hot that Fitzpatrick is. You say nothing without Dr Mulhauser here. Or your lawyer.’

Lucy’s gut churned painfully. Lawyer.
I might need a lawyer
. Luckily she knew one. ‘You might be right.’

‘I’m usually right,’ Ruby stated. She covered the body with a sheet, then looked back at Lucy. ‘I’m sorry, kid. This has to be rough. He was your friend.’

He was never my friend. He lied to me to try to get me to sleep with him
. But that she wouldn’t tell Ruby. ‘Thanks.’

‘Well, when this is over, we’ll go out and have martinis for lunch, okay?’

Lucy forced her lips to curve. ‘It’s a date. Except you can have my martini.’

Ruby’s sigh could have launched a ship. ‘Let me guess. You just autopsied a pickled liver.’

‘Not “just”. I get a steady stream of diseased livers. Booze’ll kill you.’

‘Honey, something’s gonna kill us all. I’d rather it was something fun.’ Not waiting for a reply, Ruby rolled the body back to the cold room, leaving Lucy alone.

For a moment Lucy simply sat, wondering what to do next.

I should call a lawyer. I should tell Craig. Someone should tell the Bennetts that Russ is gone
. But the last one would be the detectives’ job.

They’d be here soon, to do their job. It wouldn’t be personal and they’d ask her a lot of questions she wouldn’t want to answer.
Terrific
. Well, at least it would get Fitzpatrick to stop looking at her the way he had earlier. The man was too intense.

And she’d learned long ago that intense men were way too much trouble. But then again, calm, seemingly sedate men were a hell of a lot of trouble, too. Exhibit one, Russ Bennett.
He sure fooled me. Fooled us both
.

Gwyn needs to know
. Before Lucy knew it, she was dialing.

‘Mel’s Morgue. You stab ’em, we slab ’em,’ Gwyn deadpanned.

On any other day Lucy would have laughed. Today she had to swallow back a sob. ‘It’s Lucy.’

‘Well, duh. I can see the caller ID. You think I answer that way for everybody?’

‘No. Of course not.’ Lucy had to stop. Suddenly her heart was beating way too fast again as her mind raced.
What am I doing?

You can’t tell her. If the cops find out you told her Russ is dead, you could both be in trouble
. Because Gwyn had also known Russ.
Known
, as Ruby would have said, and that hadn’t been pretty. At all. Gwyn needed to know Russ was dead, but not until the Bennetts had been informed. And not until the cops knew it all.

Gwyn had not done this. Lucy had never been more sure of anything in her life. But Gwyn would still be a suspect.
Just like me
.

You can’t let them blindside her. She’ll be so hurt. She’ll hate you forever
.

No, Lucy knew that wasn’t true. Gwyn wasn’t capable of hating anyone forever.

Not like I have
. But that was an issue for another day.

‘Lucy? What’s wrong? Are you okay, honey?’

She couldn’t tell Gwyn, not yet. ‘Um, I need to talk to Thorne.’

‘What happened?’ Gwyn demanded.

‘Don’t be mad, but I can’t tell you yet. Please, put me through to Thorne.’ Thomas Thorne was Gwyn’s boss, their friend, and one of the best bass players in the city. Today Lucy cared more that he was also one of the best defense attorneys in the city.

‘He’s in court,’ Gwyn said worriedly. ‘But I’ll have him call you as soon as he gets out. This is about that body this morning, isn’t it? The one you were supposed to find.’

Normally Lucy admired Gwyn’s quick mind. Today, not so much. ‘Yes.’

‘Lucy, just tell me you’re okay. Are you in any danger?’

‘No. I’m here in the morgue. I’m okay, I promise. And I’ll tell you as soon as I can.’

‘Okay,’ Gwyn said doubtfully. ‘Come to the club tonight. It’ll make you feel better.’

After the day she’d had, the club sounded like nirvana. ‘If I can, I will.’

‘Mowry says people have been calling to ask if you’re coming in.’

‘If I can, I will.’
If I’m not in jail. Again
. The thought terrified.
Again
.

‘Look, I’m meeting Royce for lunch. Why don’t you join us? I’ll ask him to invite one of the guys from his office for you.’