Eden's Shadow. Jenna Ryan
“He panicked when he saw the murder, took off and hid out at home for two days.”
“Didn’t want to get involved?”
“Something like that. He told us up-front he wasn’t fond of his late partner.”
Armand slid his gaze sideways. “So if the surviving partner had no love for the dead one, where do you read the words credible witness?”
“We have no priors on the guy, in fact no charges of any kind. Three parking and two speeding tickets in the past fifteen years, all paid in full. He has an ex and a kid, a daughter. No problem there. He’s on the books for child support, and there haven’t been any gripes from his former wife, so he must be coming through. He has a condo in the Warehouse District and he went to Tulane.”
“Your alma mater.”
Al’s expression grew pensive. “I wanted to be a pro running back in those days.”
Armand ran his eyes over Eden’s legs. He’d bet a month’s pay they were the longest in the room. “There’s no security in pro sports, Al. You’re better off here.”
“Uh-huh. And while we’re on the subject, you’re here tonight because…?”
“Why else? I missed your smiling face.”
Al snorted. “I haven’t smiled since that bullet shattered my kneecap three years ago. You got nothing better to do, go hunt up Parker and tell him to get in here with that witness.”
She didn’t paint her fingernails, Armand noted. And he could see the green of her eyes from here. “You need to slow down, Al, lay back.” He smiled. “Take a vacation.”
“Love to. You wanna do my job while I’m gone?”
“Sorry, already booked.”
“That’s what they all say.” His head came up. “Is that Parker’s voice?” He paused on his way out. “You gonna leer at Lisa Mayne’s sister all night or check out that waterfront hotel you mentioned earlier… Is that you, Parker?” He raised his voice before Armand could answer. “We’re in 5C,” he called. “Later, Mandy.”
Armand nodded. Eden had a look of alertness about her that he found intriguing. She wouldn’t miss a trick—which would make her extremely difficult to deceive.
A smile curved on his lips even as his eyes lingered on Eden’s face. He pushed off from the wall. He had his work cut out for him.
Chapter Two
It took the better part of three hours to straighten things out. If you could call them straightened. Eden’s neck and shoulder muscles felt knotted, and she could still hear one of the women in the lineup crunching hard candy.
Lisa had been dazed throughout the ordeal. She still was. Eden watched her through a glass room divider from her seat in the corridor. She was talking to a bald police officer with shiny brown pants and a paunch.
At least it was quiet here, she thought. And on the murky side of dark.
Resting her head against the wall, she closed her eyes. They hadn’t seen the witness or learned his name. All Eden knew was that a man had come forward after a two-day delay and announced that he could identify Maxwell Burgoyne’s murderer.
Eden also knew that thanks to her presence in the lineup he’d been unable to make good on his promise.
“Your sister’s a fortunate woman.”
The voice came from the shadowy region to her right. When she opened her eyes, she saw a tall, male silhouette lounging against one of the archway frames.
His hair, she noticed, skimmed his shoulders. While he appeared relaxed, she heard New Orleans in his voice and recognized the predator behind it. Whether she’d met him here or on a California beach, she’d have pegged him as a cop right off.
“Not in the mood to chat?” he asked when she didn’t respond.
Because it wasn’t in her nature to be rude, she murmured, “Lost in thought, I guess. It’s been a long day. I suppose she is fortunate, yes.”
Because he lingered in the shadows, she couldn’t make out his features. Except his mouth. She could see that clearly enough. “You’re Eden Bennett,” he said. “And, like your sister, you have no alibi for the night Maxwell Burgoyne was killed.”
“Exactly. No alibi, no way for your witness to be sure which one of us he thinks he saw, no charges pending against either of us at this point.”
“There will be a thorough investigation, you understand that.”
Eden drew her brows together. “We’re counting on it, Detective…”
“LaMorte,” he obliged. “Armand.”
“Are you involved in this investigation?”
“I’d be crazy to be here at this hour if I weren’t, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. You look like a night shift kind of person to me.”
“Uh-huh. Do you believe your sister’s innocent?”
The question didn’t faze her, but Eden still wished she could see him better. “Absolutely. The only things Lisa’s ever killed are aphids, and not many of those.”
“She’s a gardener.” He smiled at her speculative expression. “It’s in the report. She says she was home and working in her garden when the victim was struck. Do you like gardens, Eden?”
“I appreciate them.” She glanced at Lisa, saw the strain on her features and gave an inward sigh. “Will this take much longer?”
“I doubt it. You’re the oldest, aren’t you?”
“I’m twenty-nine,” she told him. “Lisa’s twenty-eight. Mary’s twenty-six. We were raised by three different sets of parents.”
“Did you know Maxwell as children?”
“We never even knew of him. Lisa located our birth mother, Lucille Chaney, six months before she contacted me. That was ten years ago. Lucille said she put us up for adoption when her husband died.”
“No money to raise you?”
“Among other things. Wasn’t this information in that report of yours, Detective LaMorte?”
“Some of it was. You can call me Armand.”
“Thanks, but I prefer Detective.”
He shrugged. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks, Eden.”
His words almost sent a chill down her spine. But Lisa wasn’t guilty, and Eden could hold her own with any cop, even one with a slow, sexy smile, long dark hair and—she had a fatalistic instinct about the last thing—dark eyes that were going to make her think things she shouldn’t.
“Why do I sense you want to slap me?” he asked in amusement.
“It’s been a long day. I’m tired.”
“You don’t like cops, do you?”
Now, finally, he moved—out of the deepest shadows and into the light.
Damn, she thought with a sigh. He had a face to match his voice and his smile. He also had those dark eyes she’d imagined and, for a split second, a glint inside them that made her nerves jitter.
“I was married to a cop once. It didn’t work out. He looked a little like you.” Right down to the stubble, she thought and found herself smiling at the irony of the situation. “We divorced three years ago. I’m over it.”
“Over the unpleasantness or the man?”
“Both. Our split wasn’t unpleasant, just…”