Detective On The Hunt. Marilyn Pappano
rose from her chair when Sam escorted two women into the conference room. She’d noticed both women when she and Quint had arrived and had presumed Sam got busy on the way back or Lois had gone back on patrol and he’d had to wait until she returned. The women greeted her with friendly smiles and very curious gazes. Oh yeah, they were just like Carla and Patrick at home. In seconds, they’d summed her up, cataloging her from head to toe as efficiently as any machine.
After shaking hands, she sat down again and told them why she was in town, watching their faces when she named Maura. Recognition lit both pairs of eyes.
“Wild child,” Lois said immediately. She was the officer, the older of the two, compact and competent, her short hair colored a blast of fresh blue that suited her perfectly. “Lot of money, lot of parties, lot of spending. Drives a flashy little red convertible that I would look so good in—” she preened accordingly “—and thinks speed limits and red lights are more suggestions than actual laws.”
Morwenna, the dispatcher, was young enough to be Lois’s daughter, pretty, soft, her clothing bright and mismatched enough to present a danger to everyone’s vision. A faint hint of an accent came and went from her voice as she agreed. “I don’t think she’s a bad person. She’s just spoiled. But she’s very generous, too. We’ve run into her and her friend a couple times in Tulsa, and she paid for everyone’s drinks all night long, then took us to a late dinner—er, early breakfast when we were done. And her parties are always popular. I went once—too loud and too much booze and—” she glanced at Sam “—and, uh, weed for me. And the police show up at least every other time, and I didn’t want a lecture from you, Sam, for being at a party where the cops were called.”
Nothing new there, JJ thought. The cops at home had often gotten called to Maura’s parties. She’d held them at other kids’ houses because the Evans family home would have shaken on its foundations at such goings-on. She’d invited a few friends, who invited a few friends and so on, until two or three hundred people from all over that part of the state showed up. The liquor had flowed freely, the pot had perfumed the air and who knew what else the kids had been doing?
“You mentioned a friend,” JJ said to Morwenna. “Man or woman? Do you remember a name?”
The dispatcher propped her foot on the seat of her chair, wrapping her arms around one leg covered in Easter-patterned tights. The yellow chickies, white bunnies and pastel eggs were cute, but the lime-green shirt over a fiery-red tank… It would give Chadwick apoplexy if one of his dispatchers showed up dressed that way.
JJ liked the outfit for that reason alone.
“It was a girl, but her name was a guy’s name.” Morwenna pressed her lips together and quirked her mouth to one side while tugging on her ponytail. “Mick, Mike…no, Mel. The last name was common. Smith, Jones, something like that.”
Lovely. There was nothing so tedious as searching for someone with a common surname. It was one of Chief Dipstick’s favorite jobs for JJ. “Is Mel a local girl?”
“Not Cedar Creek. We thought she was a cousin or something. Blond hair, blue eyes, cute little nose—” Morwenna tapped her own less-than-little nose “—little Cupid’s bow mouth. Same attitude, same entitlement.”
“There was definitely a resemblance,” Lois said.
“They were really tight for a while. Mel was at her house all the time. She practically lived there. Maybe she did live there, at least for a while.”
That made sense. Maura had never been a quiet, rely-on-herself sort of person. She needed companionship and entertainment. All that traveling… JJ had thought she was getting acquainted with herself, plumbing depths that no one knew she had, but maybe not.
“What happened to Mel?” Sam asked.
“Maura said she went home. She was getting bored with Cedar Creek. She never mentioned where home was for either of them.”
“When was that?”
Morwenna shrugged, her vibrant image blurring in JJ’s gaze. “Three or four months ago. I’m not sure. We aren’t really friends. We just hung out a few times.”
JJ made a mental note to ask Mr. Winchester if there was an Evans relative named Mel—Melody, Melinda, Melanie. As far as she knew, the Evanses had no close relatives. Neither of Maura’s parents had had any siblings, and she’d been an only child herself. But in a lot of Southern families, the Logans included, a cousin was a cousin, no matter how many times removed.
Sam handed out notepads and pens from the battered desk and asked everyone to make a list of Maura’s associates. While the women started writing, Quint declined. “She was alone when I stopped her, and I didn’t know anyone at the party.” He shrugged. “I’m more likely to recognize those kids’ parents than them.”
JJ’s gaze settled on the stone in her ring. It was a Mexican fire opal, orange-red, her birthstone. It was a lucky stone, her mother had told her, symbolic of hope and innocence, a god’s tears turned to stone and colored with the fire of lightning. JJ wasn’t sure about any of that, but touching it did help her think better.
One of Mr. Winchester’s concerns that she hadn’t brought up earlier was the possibility that Maura was being influenced by someone. Con artists were always on the lookout for easy targets, and between her sorrow, her dependence and her immaturity, she would be one of the easiest. The payoff for the crook could be in the tens of millions of dollars. Was that Mel’s role in her life? Manipulating all that lovely money into her own greedy hands?
Or maybe she really was a relative. Or a friend. Maybe more than a friend. Mel had left Cedar Creek about the time of the change in Maura’s behavior. A broken heart could certainly explain a lot, especially with a twenty-five-year-old who’d already lost so much.
But shouldn’t that have strengthened the tie to her godfather? Would she actually threaten the only person left in her life because her girlfriend had left her?
Maybe. If she was distraught enough. If she’d thought he was too conventional to understand.
The women finished their lists at the same time and passed them to her. Morwenna’s, written with loops and swirls, was longer, while Lois’s, in graceful old-school cursive, was more detailed. JJ thanked them as they stood and, after a moment’s chitchat, left the room.
Sam slid a piece of paper down the table toward her. “She owns the house Maura’s renting. Quint will go with you.”
Annoyance flickered across Quint’s face, and for an instant, JJ was half insulted on two fronts. She had conducted hundreds of interviews all by herself and didn’t need help with this one. And Quint should have realized by now that she was fun. Smart. Could carry a conversation all by herself. She was an easy companion. And adorable.
And he was cranky. Not a people person. Not thrilled with the idea of giving up a good part of his day to babysit the out-of-town cop when he had better things to do. She totally got that. She had lots of better things to do than make sure Maura was coping. With all that money, Maura could buy everything she needed: someone to pamper her, take care of her, entertain her, have sex with her, clean up after her. She could even buy someone to love her.
She and Mr. Winchester had managed to temporarily buy JJ herself, though against her will.
“I don’t really need an escort,” she said, standing to her full height, unimpressive as it was with men who both topped six feet.
Sam’s smile was part genuine, part sly. “I promised your chief we’d do all we could to help out.”
She was considering baring her teeth at him when he went on.
“Besides, Mrs. Madison doesn’t take kindly to many cops. Quint happens to be one of the exceptions. She’ll be more likely to talk to you if he’s with you.”
So instead, she bared her teeth at Quint, disguising it as a smile. “Then I appreciate the offer. And I thank you for your time, Sam.”