Secrets to the Grave

39

“Did you have it coming?” Vince asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Hell, yeah.”

Mendez tried to grin with only partial success. He had come up to the ICU straight from the ER. A little centipede line of fresh stitches knitted his swollen upper lip on the left side. Lidocaine still had a firm hold on that side of his face.

Vince had to laugh. “You look like a freaking half-wit, Detective Frankenstein. What the hell happened to you?”

They sat down at a corner table in the otherwise-empty ICU family lounge.

“I had a little run-in with Steve Morgan,” Mendez said, talking out the right side of his mouth. “Turns out he has a temper.”

Vince raised his eyebrows. “What triggered that?”

“I guess it was something I said.”

“Like what? Your mother was a junkie whore?”

“How’d you know?”

“You said that to him?” Vince laughed.

“Yeah. I said a whole lot of other shit before that, but he didn’t turn a hair. That one—he went off like the fucking Raging Bull.”

Vince felt a surge of pride. “That’s my boy! You wanted to find his hot button and you did. I hope you gave a good accounting of yourself in that fight, young man.”

“He came after me. I had to protect myself. I might have broken his nose, and the one eye was swollen shut. He’s still downstairs getting patched up. I left a deputy with him.”

“Has Cal heard about this yet?” The sheepish look told Vince the answer was no. “He’ll have your ass.”

“I was defending myself!”

“You—an ex-marine, Golden Gloves boxing champion—versus a lawyer.”

“Hey, he had a hell of a swing!” Mendez protested. “He golfs and plays tennis.”

“He’s gonna sue your ass.”

“He assaulted a law enforcement officer.”

“You called his mother a whore.”

“Did I? I don’t remember. Too bad he doesn’t have any witnesses to testify to that.”

“Let’s back this up, Rocky,” Vince said as the red flags started popping up in his head. “What were you doing in his face in the first place at O-dark-thirty in the morning?”

Mendez glanced down for just a second before he started his story. And he glanced down several times more as he told about going to the Morgan house and talking with Sara Morgan.

He wasn’t lying. Mendez was as straight an arrow as arrows could be. But he was trying to be evasive about something. Sara Morgan.

“Did you ask her how long she’d been friends with Marissa Fordham?” Vince asked.

The glance down.

“No. She was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I wasn’t going to push her over the edge.”

“Uh-huh. Very chivalrous of you.”

“What? I was supposed to browbeat her?”

Anger.

“There was no point in it,” Mendez said. “She doesn’t have it in her to kill someone. Besides, she’s going to divorce the husband. That ends her suffering regarding his infidelities.”

Denial. Rationalization.

Vince nodded.

Half a scowl. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What look is that?” he asked.

“You smug bastard,” Mendez complained. “Don’t you sit there and psychoanalyze me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t,” Vince said, amused. “But it’s just so easy.”

“Say it, then.”

“Say what?”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Oh, yeah,” Vince said, chuckling.

“So I’m attracted to her,” Mendez admitted. “So what? What guy wouldn’t be? She’s gorgeous and talented—”

“And needs a champion—”

“I kept everything very professional. Nothing inappropriate happened.”

“Of course not.”

“I mean it!”

“I know you do, Tony,” Vince said, serious now. “You’re an honorable man. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with wanting to stand up for a woman—even if she doesn’t belong to you. I mean, really, that’s how it ought to be. I just don’t want to see you blur a line here.”

“Oh, you mean like you didn’t?” Mendez said sarcastically.

“Anne wasn’t a person of interest—”

“Sara couldn’t—”

Vince held up a finger to stop him. “Listen to me. Anne wasn’t a witness. She wasn’t a suspect. Her involvement in the case—while crucial—was peripheral when we first got together. Then she became a victim. Now Crane’s attorneys are trying to get evidence thrown out, claiming I planted it because Anne and I were involved.”

“The hell!” Mendez said.

“It’s true. They want that tube of superglue excluded. Thank God it’s not that important to Anne’s case. But if they can get it excluded now, chances are our side doesn’t get it back in later. If Crane goes to trial on any of the See-No-Evil cases, and the prosecution wants to establish a pattern of behavior ...”

“Shit.”

“Now back to you, Junior,” Vince said. “Don’t get me wrong, I like Sara, Anne likes Sara. But if Steve Morgan was having an affair with Marissa Fordham, then Sara had a motive and she has to be considered a person of interest. Even if she wasn’t, Steve Morgan is certainly someone we have to take a look at. You can’t get involved with Sara.”

“I wouldn’t,” Mendez said, frowning with the working side of his mouth. “She’s a married woman.”

“Barely,” Vince said. “It sounds to me like psychologically she’s practically divorced. She’s wounded and frightened and needy. You gave her a shoulder to cry on. Tell me you didn’t come this close to kissing her last night.”

The glance down.

“It’s a slippery slope, kid. Stay off it until there’s an all-clear. Then—when she leaves that asshole—go for it. Fall in love. Get married. Anne and my kids are going to need playmates.”

“Very funny,” Mendez said. “What’s going on with Anne and the little girl?”

“I’m taking them home this morning before the reporters crawl out of their rat holes,” he said.

He didn’t have a good feeling about it. He was still worried not only about Haley—and therefore Anne—being a target, but for Anne’s level of attachment to the child. What happened when they found a relative and Haley had to be handed over? Nothing good in terms of Anne’s emotional health. As good as it might be for her to help the little girl through this ordeal, there would be an end to it, and that was going to be hard.

“You had to let her do it, Vince,” Mendez said.

Vince frowned. “Now who’s reading whose mind?”

“You’ve taught me well, Old Man. Has the girl said anything?”

“No, but it’s in there. Last night she drew a picture for Anne with a scary-looking figure in it. ‘Bad Monster,’ she called it.”

“That’s not much to go on,” Mendez said. “We can’t put out an APB for Bad Monster.”

“Your witness is four.”

“This case stinks, so far. My witness is four, I’ve got to deal with an autistic hoarder who murdered his mother. It looks like the victim’s best friend took it on the lam—”

“What?” Vince said, coming to attention.

“Gina Kemmer is missing. In the couple of hours we weren’t watching her, she took off.”

“I don’t like that. There’s no sign of her?”

Mendez shook his head. “We’ve got a BOLO out on her and her car.”

“Get in her house.”

“I wanted to do that last night, but it was too soon. I wasn’t going to get a warrant based on nothing but the fact that she wasn’t home.”

“That was last night when maybe she was just out to dinner,” Vince said. “She’s still gone this morning. Now it’s a possible kidnapping. Go to ADA Worth and fight for it. We know you’re good in a fight.”

“She scares me more than Steve Morgan does,” Mendez joked, getting up.

“Page me when you get the warrant. I want to be there.”

Mendez gave him a mock salute and headed out the door.

Vince dumped the last of his coffee in the trash and headed back to Haley’s room. It was time to take his temporary family home.