Killer Swell

23

“Let me see the key.”

An hour later, we were in my living room, both in dry clothes, and Carter was sitting on the couch.

I grabbed the key off the counter and tossed it to him.

He held it in his palm and flipped it over a couple of times. “You sure it doesn’t belong to Emily’s heart?”

“You sure you don’t want me to kick you in the ear?”

He snorted. “She knows it was Kate’s?”

“No. She knows Kate left it at her place before she went to the hotel.”

“Can I hang on to it? I know a guy who might be able to get you something on it.”

I looked at him. “You know an expert on keys?”

“Something like that.”

I shook my head, surprised that I was surprised. “Yeah. Have at it.”

He closed it in his palm and nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “Message on the machine for you.”

“Did you listen to it?”

“Of course. I had to come in and get something to eat before I hit the water. I saw the blinking light and couldn’t resist.”

“Then tell me what the message is.”

He made a face. “But then I’d feel like your secretary or something.”

“You need to do something to earn your keep.”

“I don’t live here.”

“Fooled me.”

He pointed at the machine. “It’s that cop you used to sleep with.”

Or, as her colleagues called her, Detective Santangelo.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“Wants you to call her.”

I looked at the phone, hoping it didn’t work. “Right away?”

“As always.”

I went over and picked up the phone, frowned when I got a dial tone. I hit the machine, listened to Liz’s very serious voice, and dialed the number she’d left.

She answered on the first ring. “Santangelo.”

“Braddock,” I fired back.

She paused for a moment, maybe trying to figure out who it was or maybe not finding me funny. Hard to tell.

“I need you to come in,” she said.

“From out of the rain?”

She sighed heavily. “Noah. I’m not screwing around. Will you come down?”

“Depends. What happens if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll send someone with cuffs to get you.”

The neighbors had probably grown weary of seeing me with the police, and I didn’t want to rattle them so early in the morning.

“I’ll come.”

“Carter with you?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Bring him, too.”

“I’m not his chaperone,” I told her.

“No, you’re more like his mother. Bring him.” She hung up.

“Detective Santangelo wishes to see us,” I told Carter, grabbing my car keys off the table.

He stood up and stretched like a cat, his hands nearly touching the ceiling. “What if I don’t wish to be seen?”

“She didn’t give me that option,” I said, heading for the door.

He groaned. “Well, that’s not fair.”

“Come on. You can tell her to her face.”

He grinned. “Ah. A challenge.”