Dead in the Water (Kate Ryan Mysteries Book 10) (5 page)

“I did,” Hannah responded as delighted as her niece. “You can see them later. I’ll download them to your computer and—”

“Break out the popcorn. Fine,” I said hastily. “Hannah, what did you do?”

“Well, I also took pictures of the report.”

“How did you do that? I was sitting right next to you,” I said, feeling very confused, which as it turned out, had been my natural state for about two years now.

“You handed me each page to take notes, but my pen was running out of ink,” Hannah explained logically. “So I took a picture of the pages instead.” She held up her camera in a triumphant gesture.

“Brilliant,” Costello said, shaking her head. She looked at me then. “What? It was. I would never have thought to do that. Tell me you would, Ryan.”

I heard the annoying challenge in her voice, and as much as I hated to admit Costello was right—she was right.

Hannah looked at me sporting a very superior grin. Maggie hid her grin in her napkin. And of course, there was poor Phil, who just took a long drink.

“Okay, Hannah. It was a very clever idea,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s finish here, then we’ll go back to the office.” I glanced at my watch; it was only four o’clock. “We’ll download it to the computer and see if I’m right.”

“About what?” Maggie asked, leaning forward. “You have an idea. I can tell by the look in your eyes.”

“That’s indigestion, dear,” Hannah said absently. “I’ve already offered her Tums.”

Chapter 5

We opted to go back to my place, well, our place? Hell, I didn’t know what to call it now. It certainly was my place, but now, with Maggie living there, it was our place. Right?

By the time we pulled up to…the apartment, I had a raging headache.

Chance met us at the door running around in circles. Maggie laughed and ruffled her ears.

“Miss us? I missed you,” she said, kissing the top of Chance’s head. “You take her out. I’ll make coffee?”

“Deal. C’mon, ya mutt.”

By the time I returned, Maggie had made a pot of coffee and gotten my laptop. Hannah and Costello were already sitting in the dining room.

After a few minutes of downloading, we all sat there huddled around the computer. Chance, after receiving much love from Costello and Hannah, curled up in a ball under the table and across Maggie’s feet, looking extremely satisfied.

“Are you sure this isn’t illegal?” Maggie asked while I scanned a few pages of the report.

“Oh, it is,” Costello assured her, glancing at Hannah’s notes.
 
“We could turn her in.”

Hannah looked horrified. “You will do no such thing. I look horrible in orange. Then I’d wind up on that prison lockdown show on MSNBC.”

“Tell me you don’t really watch that,” Maggie said.

“Well,” Hannah said. “I watch that adorable Rachel Maddow. And I can’t help myself on Friday. At the end of her show, she says now you have to go to prison.” She laughed. “So I watch. It’s amazing, I must say…”

“I think you’d look wonderful in orange,” Costello said.

I listened absently to my friends and their inane chatter, loving how comfortable and how safe I felt as we sat around the dining room table. I glanced up at Maggie as she laughed with Costello, my heart skipping the proverbial beat. She was beautiful inside and out. The memories of how we met flashed through my mind—the horrible situation with her family in Cedar Lake, the love she felt for her mother who died when Maggie was so young, and the love she and Hannah had for each other. How lucky could I be to stumble into their lives and become a part of it? I mean, what were the odds? To paraphrase Dobie Gillis’s friend Maynard G. Krebs: It was a highly unlikelihood.

I looked at my college ring Maggie wore, and God help me, the nausea started again.

Why in the world would Maggie want to marry me? It was such a huge life-altering commitment. I’d never been in this situation before. Never loved anyone so much. What am I thinking? I’m nearly fifty, and Maggie is nine years younger. Was I wrong to put her in this position? What if she said yes because she felt sorry for me? Then what? Pity love? I couldn’t stand that.

When I felt a warm hand on my arm, I looked up to see Hannah smiling, and for some reason, there were tears in her blue eyes. She knew what I was thinking. What is it with these Winfield women who can get into my head so easily? It was irritating and wonderful at the same time.

“You’re thinking too much,” she whispered, gently squeezing my forearm.

I chuckled quietly and whispered, “What are the odds, huh?”

“Better than you think.”

“Okay, no whispering,” Maggie said, looking at both of us. “What’s wrong?”

“Not a damn thing,” I said, leaning over to give her a big smooch. “I kinda love you.”

“You kinda better,” she assured me. “And here we go again, Miss Ryan, declaring our love over an autopsy report.” She cocked her head and grinned. “What’s wrong with us?”

“Enough of the mush,” Costello said. “I think I found something in these notes. Or rather, I didn’t find.”

I still had a sappy grin on my face as I gazed at Maggie. “Oh, yeah? Well, I think I did, too.”

“Really? You first,” Costello said.

I reluctantly tore my gaze from Maggie and sat back. “The bullet casing.”

“Right!” Costello said, slapping the table.

“What about it?” Maggie asked.

“It’s missing,” I said. “The police never recovered it.”

“So that means…” Hannah said triumphantly. “I don’t know. What does that mean?”

“It means the murderer took the time to find the casing before he left. Hannah, remember in the surveillance tape? How we saw the light shining.”

“Yes, we all agreed it was the murderer opening the door to leave.”

“And I said it took him long enough.”

“I thought you were joking. Right,” Hannah said, then her eyes got huge. “He was looking for the bullet casing.”

“I think so.”

“It makes sense, Ryan. This guy’s a smart one. He didn’t want to leave the casing behind.”

“Why?” Maggie asked. “Can’t they tell what kind of bullet was used from the one they recovered from the wound?”

“Yes, but now all they have is the size of the bullet. Ballistics can tell a helluva lot more from the casing.” I sat back and stared at the screen. “So why would an ordinary thief take the time to find the bullet casing?”

“As I said, I would be scrambling to get out of there quickly. He seemed almost not to care,” Hannah said. “I can envision him nonchalantly looking around the floor.”

“You think Chad knew the guy?” Costello asked, looking at me.

“My gut says yes. But that could just be my guts,” I said.

For the next hour or so, we looked over the pages of the report, and Maggie examined the autopsy report and photos.

“What do you think?” I asked her.

“Well, I’m no forensic expert by any means…”

“But I’ll take your opinion nonetheless,” I said.

“I don’t see anything in the report that sounds odd. It appears Chad was shot in the back of the head, from at least five feet away. And I’m not familiar with weaponry, but isn’t a suppressor like a silencer?” Maggie pointed to a page.

Costello and I nearly killed each other to look at the page. And there it was. Though they could not be positive, the likelihood of a suppressor being used was not out of the question.

“Now why didn’t I see that before?” I asked.

Costello sat back. “This is really getting screwy, Ryan.”

“Getting?” I asked.

“For something completely different with us,” Maggie said, laughing along with Hannah and Costello.

“You have a point,” Costello said. “Even though they can’t be sure, there was a reason forensics put that in there.”

“Now why would an ordinary robber use a silencer?” Maggie asked.

“An ordinary robber wouldn’t,” I said. “There’s something we’re missing.”

“After four months, the police still can’t find anything,” Costello reminded me.

“But Mike said he’s got an eager beaver still looking into it. Cops don’t like it when then can’t solve a murder. I can’t blame them.”

“And they don’t like PIs snooping around their investigation,” Costello added.

“I can’t blame them there, either. But I also can’t help it. We have a client.” I sat back and rubbed the back of my neck. “But I think that’s enough for one night.”

“I agree. We can go over this tomorrow at the office. C’mon, Hannah darlin’, you can give me a ride.”

I kissed Hannah on the cheek. “Thanks for all you did today, Miss Marple. You were a tremendous help.”

“My pleasure, dear,” she said, kissing me, then Maggie. “Good night, my darlings.”

And just like that, we were alone, with Chance standing there, wagging her tail.

“Someone needs to go out,” Maggie said, picking up the coffee cups.

I looked down at my dog. “Why haven’t you learned how to use the toilet?”

“Opposable thumbs,” Maggie said, kissing my cheek as she walked into the kitchen.

“Hmm. Some excuse.”

After Chance let out a canine sigh of relief, Maggie doled out the treats for her—what a spoiled dog. And we headed for bed.

All of the sudden, it struck me how easy and seamless this transformation from living alone to living with Maggie actually was. I was keenly aware of what I now liked to refer as “The Routine.”

First, Maggie showered, then I showered while she dried her hair. I slipped into a pair of boxers and a tank top if I wore anything at all; Maggie did the same, only hers were silky and sexy.

I locked up and turned out the lights while Maggie plugged in our cellphones. Then we slipped into bed and sighed happily as we snuggled together. And on cue, Chance jumped up and found her spot at the foot of the bed. There was one thing Maggie and I agreed on…well, one of many. No TV in the bedroom.

“Hmm. I love this time of day,” Maggie whispered, nestling her head into my shoulder.

I had to smile. “I do, too. I-I miss you during the day.”

Maggie looked up. “You do?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, kissing the top of her head.

“So you like having me around?” She snuggled close once again.

“Yes. Do…do you like having me around?” I hated the hesitation in my voice. I looked down when I felt her hand creep up my neck to my cheek.

“I love having you around, Kate. I love being with you, I love laughing and even arguing with you, which I find somewhat disturbing. I guess I just love you.”

“Hmm. Ya know, you’re gonna wake up one morning and realize you’re a prize dope.”

Maggie laughed, and God help me, her contagious laugh always got me. I chuckled along.

“I’ll risk it if you will.”

“Fine. We’re both dopes. Is that any way to go through life?” I asked, still chuckling.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I reached down and took her hand, caressing the ring on her finger. “I hope this doesn’t turn your finger green.”

Maggie laughed. “If it hasn’t by now, it won’t. And no, I’m never taking it off.”

I rolled onto to my side; Maggie mirrored my position. “Never? That’s a long time, Dr. Winfield. You might want to rethink this mess you’re in.”

“I love the mess I’m in,” she whispered, caressing my cheek with the back of her hand. “And you don’t fool me, Miss Ryan. You love it, too. Love can be messy.”

I knew I was grinning like a fool. “You’re right.” I reached over and cupped her breast, loving the soft sigh I got in response. “So…”

“So…?” she whispered as her voice caught.

I quickly rolled her onto her back, looming over her. “Let’s get messy.”

“Oh, Kate.” Maggie laughed and wrapped her arms around my neck. “You say the sweetest things.”

*******

I was lost. I couldn’t find the right door; they all looked unfamiliar. I yanked on one; it was locked. Another and another. They were all locked. As I turned around, I was in a forest. It was foggy and damp, and I was alone. In the distance, I thought I saw Maggie. She was frantically waving to me. I called out to her, but no sound came out of my mouth. I tried to run to her, but the vines entangled my feet. I couldn’t move and started to sink. The more I struggled, the more I sank. “Stop struggling…” a voice whispered. I knew that voice. My heart raced as I continued trying to free myself. “Stop…”