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That was pretty gracious for her. Since he’d figured out she was a lot more used to running an investigation than accepting guidance, he appreciated the courtesy. Jason adjusted his perception a notch in her favor and responded, “Helton can see us at ten. Mrs. Tobias isn’t currently available, but I have it on good authority she can’t avoid us forever. This your house?”

“No.”

He lifted his brows in unspoken inquiry.

She just fastened her seat belt.

Fine. Her personal life was an I-don’t-give-a-fuck situation anyway on his part, so he left it alone.

With a backward glance, he pulled the car out onto the street, his wrist negligently on the steering wheel. “Helton swears he has no idea who it could be. All right, on the phone I don’t necessarily discount that, but I’d love to see his face when he says it.”

“Why?”

She wore a light-colored blouse and chocolate-colored tailored slacks and her hair smelled really good. Jasmine? He had no idea, but it was floral and light and the heat made the fragrance permeate the interior of the car. It was stupid to even think about it, so he refocused. He was a guy, he’d noticed, and now dismissed it.

“Helton?” He drove down the sunny street—Jesus, it was hot again, the whole state needed rain—and braked for the stoplight. “He’s what I call a white-collar scumbag. He doesn’t break legs or crack heads, he doesn’t even extort as far as I know, but Matthew and Michelle Tobias bought a house from him at a really high interest rate and it burned down. He was the bank, let’s keep that in mind.”

“We know the fire was set. We need to go over his finances with a fine-tooth comb.”

“If it wasn’t a holiday weekend that would be easier, but I checked him out and he doesn’t have any outstanding warrants or a record. He lived in the house for almost twenty years and just made the deal with the Tobiases maybe a year ago.”

“Okay. Interesting, and good work.”

He’d actually spent hours on the computer, so she should appreciate it, but it didn’t prove much.

He glanced over. She had a nice profile, pretty nice body too. Breasts not big, but firm and well shaped, a good balance for her slender body; whoever owned that really expensive house might be a lucky guy. Jason said in a contemplative tone, “He is a good possibility. And has a motive. Which up until now we don’t have, but I’m not sure we aren’t wasting our time. Insurance fraud would fly, except for one thing.”

“The dead body. Insurance fraud … no.” She settled back, shaking her head decisively. To give her credit, she didn’t hold back with her opinions as far as he could tell. That was fine. He hated it when people didn’t say what they were thinking, and if they were going to be partners, talking out the case was essential. She added, “Let’s
not
forget the corpse. It’s quite a leap from thievery to murder.”

“I don’t disagree. Reubens didn’t have a cause of death for the one in the Tobias house, but the jump victim is cut and dried. Manner of death … yeah, not so sure. Nut job or just weak? I can’t decide, can you?”

“No, but let’s not put it that way to his widow.”

“Do you think I would?”

She didn’t look sure, which wasn’t flattering. Maybe they were getting to know one another. He could be too blunt; no secret there. But not all the time, and never really on purpose, and everyone had their moments. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically.

“I didn’t even answer.”

“Didn’t have to. Let’s try to catch Michelle Tobias first, and I’m not accepting any bullshit from her father about her being too upset to talk to us.”

“She doesn’t have to, so that might not be your choice. You know that as well as I do.”

He pulled onto Lincoln and gunned the Mustang, switching lanes, speeding a little. “Just watch me. It would be helpful to gain at least a little insight. I did manage to pry Dr. Canton’s address out of him and hopefully she’s not high on happy pills this time of the morning.”

“It would be helpful,” MacIntosh muttered, looking out the window. “But talk about a rough couple of days. I feel sorry for her.”

“I feel sorry for her too, but only if she wasn’t part of why her husband decided to take a swan dive off a tall building. For all we know, she’s a bitch.”

She gave him a disillusioned glance. “She seemed nice to me.”

“But then again, some women can pull that off, trust me. Lots of false advertising out there.”

The address was in Cedarburg, just northwest of the city, the house itself not showy, but obviously expensive, and there was a nice BMW in the driveway. Someone had planted pots of impatiens in a variety of colors, set all along the brick walkway, which was flanked by two ornate Victorian streetlight imitations. When they rang the bell, a small dog started barking until a stern voice spoke and the sound ceased almost immediately.

The man who answered the door was middle-aged, slightly paunchy, his hair light and thinning. He looked at them with no friendliness, obviously disapproving over his lack of a tie, but Jason didn’t give a shit about that. It was going to be freakin’ ninety-eight degrees and he wasn’t choking to death with a tie around his neck.

“Yes?”

“Dr. Canton? I’m Detective MacIntosh and this is Detective Santiago of the Milwaukee Police Department. We apologize for the intrusion but we would like to speak with your daughter if at all possible.” Ellie extended her badge.

“I’ll talk to you on her behalf. Come in.”

Well, shit
. Not what they wanted but better than nothing, and they had driven out, so why not. Jason followed Ellie inside, a quick glance showing beige walls, an uninspired rug on the floor of the foyer, the pictures on the walls scenes of gardens with pastel tones. They were invited to sit on a brown couch that was new, but still dull in his opinion, and Michelle Tobias’ father chose a dark green chair, which was probably expensive but still as bland as the rest of the house.

Then, before either one of them could speak, he said flatly, “My son-in-law is dead, and I’m not going to lie to you, I’m glad, but I do thank you for returning the dog, Detective Santiago. It means a lot to my daughter.”

*   *   *

What?

Ellie had to admit she hadn’t had very many interviews begin with such a stark, unforgiving statement about the victim. Even Santiago, whose face always wore a slightly sardonic smirk, looked surprised, his dark blond brows shooting up. They exchanged a glance, brief, but the first spontaneous silent communication between them, and then her partner leaned forward and said, “You are welcome for the dog, but is
do no harm
out the window, or in this case over the side of a parking garage, Doctor?”

Nice, Santiago
.

He’d
returned the dog? She had to admit it threw her off and she’d have to think about it later, because any goodwill from Michelle’s father was negated by her partner’s last statement.

She quickly said, “Glad, sir? Care to explain why?”

“He wasn’t my patient and I didn’t make him jump either, so that reprimand doesn’t apply. I have an unimpeachable alibi, and so does my daughter.”

But, she noted, the older man was too reserved, his hands on his knees, his control contrived. He had eyes of an almost indeterminate color, probably blue, but there was a hint of red in the white around the irises and she wondered at once if he’d had a long night or was a drinker.

Could be both.

“Glad was the wrong word,” he added immediately, but there still was not a lot of apology in his tone. “Not sorry is a better way to put it. Excuse my lack of eloquence since it has been a fairly shocking past twenty-four hours, as you can imagine.”

Ellie nodded. “Okay, we’re listening. Your son-in-law is no great loss as far as you are concerned. Does that sum it up? And you were where when you got the news of his death?”

“I’d picked up my daughter and taken her directly to see her therapist after I heard about the fire. We had a second emergency appointment even though it was a holiday. I have the doctor’s number.” He took the card from his pocket and extended it. “His office can confirm the appointment. The fire and the body in the house … I knew Matthew wouldn’t handle it well.”

“It seems to me you should have taken your son-in-law to
his
therapist,” Santiago drawled. “He’s the one that ended up dead. However, I’m fascinated. Why did your daughter need to be rushed off because
he
wouldn’t handle it well? He beat the shit out of her on a regular basis or something like that? We have no record of any domestic violence calls.”

Profanity in an interview. Great.

Just her luck she’d be assigned to someone with the worst interviewing technique on the planet. Metzger claimed he could interview a witness and make them weep out their story without lifting a finger, but so far, Santiago seemed just abrasive. She quickly intervened, “Was he abusive when he was upset, sir?”

“Not in a physical way, but let’s just say I was worried something exactly like what happened would be his response to the stress of losing the house.” Dr. Canton reached up to rub his cheek, seemed to think better of that telltale sign of nervousness, and casually dropped his hand back to his knee. “He’s never been stable. I tried to tell my daughter but she wouldn’t listen. Take his back injury. He milked that for all it was worth.”

“Is that why you didn’t help them with the house?”

This time she literally turned and stared at Santiago. Dr. Canton seemed just as taken aback by the frank question.

Jason Santiago, casual in an open-necked shirt, his blue eyes direct, just shrugged lightly. “They bought it on contract from a man who seems to have some interesting financial practices and we haven’t really dived in yet very deep on that either.” He glanced around. “You’ve got money. It seems to me you could have lent a hand.”

The older man took a moment and his jaw tightened. “My daughter is a grown woman. I couldn’t stop her from marrying Matthew and I am not obligated to pick up their bills. If he couldn’t come up with a down payment and a credit score high enough to please a bank that really was not my concern.”

“Gotcha.” Her partner just looked bland. “You love your daughter a lot, but not enough to give
him
your money. I can see that. You are trying to protect her now. So do it and tell us who else hated his guts. In your opinion, did he jump off that roof, or was he encouraged in some way, either mentally or physically, to do it?”

“I don’t know that anyone hated him.” Dr. Canton backpedaled a little, and if Ellie didn’t appreciate Santiago’s style, at least he had the guy rattled. She could give him that.

“
You
did. Or it sure seemed that way from what you told us a few moments ago.”

“I never said hate.”

“You aren’t sorry he’s dead. I’ve felt guilty for squashing a spider. At the least admit to strong dislike.”

“I’m not admitting to anything. He wasn’t particularly responsible, that’s all.”

“Kind of sounds to me like you thought he was a loser. As far as we can tell, you might be the only one with a motive, but give us time, maybe we’ll come up with someone else. But, of course, maybe we won’t.” Santiago took in a breath of evident annoyance.

“What are you pushing toward?”

“What are you pushing against?” Her partner looked ingenuously puzzled. “If we are working toward the same thing, maybe we can make some progress. Just tell us plainly why you didn’t like him and no irresponsibility bullshit.”

“It’s not—”

“That’s enough.” Ellie stepped in. Now—
now
—she got it.

The day she was hired, the chief had sat her down in his office, much more plush that the plain room in the Lincoln County Sheriff’s Department that her former boss had called his own, and given her the assignment to work with Jason Santiago.

“He’s hell and gone too aggressive,” Chief Metzger had told her frankly, his eyes not exactly amused. A burly man in his late forties, he wore impeccable suits, was fairly well liked as far as she could tell, but he didn’t pull punches. “After I interviewed you I had a feeling you could balance him. I hope I’m right. People are going to trust you and he is going to ask all the probing questions. Don’t get me wrong, Detective, not because he’s smarter, or quicker, or at least I doubt he is, but because when he thinks it, he asks it. It just comes right out of his mouth. Nothing big as far as real complaints yet, but I don’t want anything big, understand?”

An easy response to that hadn’t been on the tip of her tongue so she’d said nothing.

Metzger had gone on in a pragmatic tone. “I haven’t decided yet if his method works, but I can tell you this, he pisses off almost everyone he comes into contact with, and yet he has a very high arrest record. He knows who is guilty, but he needs to realize that isn’t enough. He isn’t in essence the cliché term of a loose cannon—nothing like that. We’ve had a few in this department, but he doesn’t fit. He just refuses to even try tact, but he isn’t out there making serious mistakes very often either. Just now and then he crosses a certain line. I am not sure if I am describing it well, but he has great instincts even if his style could use a little polish. However, he’s already been reprimanded, he does not play well with others, and I am not going to lie to you, cooperation is not his strongest virtue.”

It really hadn’t sounded like her dream job. Big city meant more cases, and she liked the idea of that … The one she’d finished in northern Wisconsin had been a fluke, no doubt about it, that was never going to happen again, or if it did, it was unlikely it would be during her tenure at the sheriff’s department in a county that had less than twenty-three thousand residents.

“I want to hire you,” he’d gone on with calm intonation, “because I think you are a very good detective. A little more experience and you could be a great detective.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So is Santiago. He might even be great as well if he can be pushed in the right direction, but see, I am not completely convinced that is possible.” Metzger had sat back, his smile not indulgent; it was far too enigmatic for that, but there was at least a contemplative edge she caught.