Haunting Whispers (7 page)

She wasn’t used to crime analysis or thinking like a cop. Her particular skills would come in handy later. At the moment she needed to concentrate on reducing the pool of possibilities. Perhaps the most identifying marker first. She highlighted the weapon category, then slid her ruler down the entries, counting as she went. When she finished, she noted only six incidents in which stun guns were used. After she read the other details, her spirits once again plummeted.

Five of the six cases involved women who used stun guns to ward off attackers, who in turn filed assault charges. What a crazy judicial system that turned the victim into the suspect for simply defending herself. The remaining entry sounded more promising. Jeremy Sutton assaulted Cris, could be male or female, utilizing a stun gun. She put an asterisk next to the case and looked around for her cell phone. Damn contraption. When she needed it, the irritating thing sprouted legs and crawled off.

A faint chiming noise alerted her to the direction of her phone and she followed it to the crumpled blanket on the sofa. She shook the cover and her cell skidded across the floor, its cry for attention louder. Ignoring the message tone, she dialed the number to the police records desk. If her calculations were right, Loretta would be on duty and could provide what she needed.

Her quick exit from crime analysis the last time Loretta helped her wouldn’t win her any points. As she waited for an answer, Audrey regretted the two dinner invitations she’d accepted from Loretta to keep their link intact. She didn’t like misleading people but seemed to be doing exactly that at every turn lately. Maybe it was time to do the decent thing and be honest with her about her lack of interest.

“Records Division, Loretta, can I help you?”

“Lo, it’s Audrey.”

“Hi. It’s great to hear from you.” Loretta’s voice dropped an octave and lost its professional edge. “I’ve been hoping you’d call. You ran off in a hurry the other day.”

“I know. We need to talk about that…and some other things too, but it can’t be right now. Lo, I’m sorry. This is business. I need your help in a hurry.”

“Okay, go ahead.” Her disappointment came through the line like a chilly breeze.

She gave Loretta the case number and asked for the address of the arrestee, Jeremy Sutton. The short pause after Loretta conveyed the information told Audrey she was waiting for her quid pro quo. “I’ll get back to you soon.” The best she could do. She didn’t wait for Loretta to acknowledge her obvious brush-off.

After a short drive, Audrey stood in front of Jeremy Sutton’s house wondering for the second time in a week if this was a good idea. She scanned the area and got no unfriendly vibes. She hadn’t sensed anything hostile at the community center until it was too late either. Audrey proceeded with caution. When she faced this man—and that’s exactly how she would evaluate him—what would she say? Did Rae stand outside suspects’ doors and wonder how to proceed in an investigation? She seriously doubted it. Audrey rehearsed a couple of possible scenarios in her head and knocked.

A handsome young man with wavy red hair opened the door. He smiled and Audrey felt at ease. “Yes?”

“Mr. Sutton?”

“That’s right.” His brown eyes showed no sign of recognition.

“I’m from the mayor’s office. Could I ask you a couple of questions about your recent encounter with the Kramer Police Department?”

The man’s friendly smile turned sour. “Is that what they’re calling it now, an encounter?”

“I didn’t want to be unkind or insulting. Would you mind a few questions?”

He assessed Audrey for a few seconds. “I’ve never heard of the mayor’s office following up with wrongly accused people.”

“Quality control. Please.”

Sutton’s demeanor softened as he stepped aside and waved her in. “Okay, but I won’t be tricked or disrespected in my own home.”

They sat across from each other in the immaculately decorated living room and neither spoke for several minutes. Audrey took in the hand-carved wooden sculptures in rich mahogany and soft pine finishes that accentuated floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Accessories and live plants sprinkled the space with pops of vivid color. Audrey decided she’d made a mistake.

“Could I offer you a cup of coffee, some water?” Though his words sounded sincere, Audrey felt the offer came more from proper etiquette than genuine cordiality.

“Water would be great, thanks.” When he returned, Audrey took a sip from the bottle of Pellegrino. She was again struck with the sense that Jeremy Sutton wasn’t her attacker. But she’d come this far and a few questions would eliminate any doubt. “I’m sorry to bring up unpleasantness, but who was the victim in your assault case?”

“Cris Masterson.”

“Male or female?”

“Male. He accosted me when I passed a bar on my way home. Apparently he thought I was gay. I defended myself with the only thing I had. If you’d read the report, you’d already know all that.”

She felt like a complete incompetent. Rae would never have faced a suspect unprepared. She’d definitely made a mistake by not reading the initial investigation. She thought of the uncomfortable conversation with Loretta and realized she could’ve avoided that as well. The details of the case and the arrestee’s address were documented in the full report if only she’d gotten a copy. Maybe amateur sleuthing was harder than it appeared. To cover the real reason for her visit, she asked a couple more questions. “And has your case come to trial yet?”

“He dropped the charges.”

“How did the police officers treat you?”

“They were doing their jobs, misguided as they may have been.” She sensed his obvious discomfort. Who could blame him? A stranger showed up at his door asking questions about an incident he’d prefer to forget. She would’ve felt exactly the same way.

“I see.” Jeremy Sutton watched every move Audrey made, particularly her hands. “What kind of work do you do, Mr. Sutton?”

“I’m a woodworker. I love it.” He indicated the sculptures behind him and his face lit up.

That accounted for his obvious interest in her hands. He was truly an artist. She admired creative people and doubted most of them were capable of violence. Maybe it had to do with their connection to the universe and that inspirational flow. “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Sutton, and the Pellegrino.”

“Sure.” He smiled warmly and his eyes sparkled again with kindness. As he opened the door, he took her hand with such gentleness Audrey didn’t attempt to move away. The extended handshake convinced her Jeremy Sutton would never intentionally harm anyone.

Audrey drove back to her apartment confused, dissatisfied, and full of self-recrimination. Usually firmly in control, confident of her actions, and determined enough to follow them through, today she’d acted like a complete novice. However, she had eliminated Jeremy Sutton as her attacker so she hadn’t completely wasted the trip.

As she got back on the highway, her cell phone rang. The aggravating little thing wasn’t helping her mood and she seriously contemplated throwing it out the window. She’d never gotten anything from it but bad news anyway.

“Yes, go ahead.”

“Still hate your mobile, I see.” Yasi chided her in her melodic voice.

“Oh…hi. I mean it’s good to hear from you.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Yasirah Mansour was the most compassionate person Audrey knew, so the hurt in her tone was almost too much to bear.

“I’m sorry, Yasi. Things have been a bit crazy around here.”

“Are you okay? You sound strange, like you’re out of balance.”

“No, it’s work.”

“Whatever you say, but I’m not convinced. Are you home?”

“Almost.”

Yasi hesitated, which was never good. She was a total extrovert and loved to talk more than almost anything. “I hope you won’t be upset because I’ve done something.”

The last time Yasi did “something” an equipment malfunction almost killed them. She hated to ask.
“What?”

“You’ll see.”

“Come on, Yas, I’m not in the mood for games.” She turned into her apartment complex and saw Yasi sitting on her vintage apple-red Corvette in front of her door. She looked like a graphic hood ornament with her womanly frame wrapped in a flowing multicolored kaftan. As Audrey parked beside Yasi’s car, she felt a momentary pang of regret as her friend’s dark hair whipped around her gorgeous face, dark eyes, and full lips. Why hadn’t they ever been lovers? They felt the connection, even talked about it, just never took the next step. Audrey worried that it would destroy a perfect friendship. Now she loved Yasi like a sister. Even so, she wasn’t ready to explain what was happening in her life—even if she’d been certain herself.

In spite of her reservations, she got out of the car and ran to her. She needed confirmation that someone cared. It had been too long since she’d felt loved in any form. “Oh, Yasi, I’m so glad to see you.”

Yasi held her and rocked side to side, cooing reassurances. Her voice was like liquid love flowing from Audrey’s ears directly to her aching heart. It hadn’t been easy the past year only seeing Yasi randomly. She hadn’t realized until now just how difficult and how lonely she’d felt.

“There, there. Now I’m certain something’s wrong. You can tell me all about it, but first I have a present for you.” She opened her car door, pulled out a shoebox full of holes, and with a grand flare presented it to Audrey. “
This
is what I’ve done. Please don’t be mad.”

Audrey didn’t have to open the box. The distinctively dis-gruntled meowing and scratching from inside verified her suspicions. Yasi knew her so well and it
had
been almost two years since Olga passed. “How old? What color? When—”

“Why don’t we go inside and find out?” She hugged Audrey to her as they walked into the apartment. They automatically headed for the sofa and stretched out like they’d done so many times as kids coming home from a movie. It was as if they’d seen each other yesterday, their intimacy intact.

Audrey placed the box between them and lifted the lid. A tabby kitten popped over the side and flung itself toward her, snuggling into the hollow of her neck. Audrey felt a connection immediately. “She can’t be more than seven or eight weeks old. She’s gorgeous.”

“She’s ten, weaned, has all her shots, and is litter-box trained—in other words, the perfect house pet. Don’t you love her? And look at those darling little eyes.”

Carefully dislodging the kitten from her neck, Audrey gazed into the most beautiful pair of mismatched eyes she’d ever seen, one deep green and one yellow. “Oh, my.” She stroked the kitten’s coat, amazed at its coarse, springy feel, unlike Olga’s silken fur. The kitten’s wiry hair was dense and formed little ringlets all over her tiny body.

“She’s an American wirehair. I found her at the pound. They’d taken very good care of her. She’s the friendliest kitten I’ve ever seen. Can you imagine anyone abandoning this little bundle of preciousness?”

“No.” Audrey was immediately in love. “No, I can’t. What’s her name?”

Yasi smiled and produced an envelope from her purse. “I thought the three of us would take care of that together. Remember how Nadja used to name pets?”

Audrey smiled at the memory of her mother’s naming ceremony. It was one of her favorite traditions and sparked a swell of warmth. “She let them choose their own names.”

“Exactly.” Yasi opened the envelope, shook, and little white squares of paper floated to the floor. “I thought it appropriate that the theme was famous circus acts. Turn her loose when you’re ready.”

Audrey kissed Yasi on the cheek, planted another on the kitten’s forehead, and set her gingerly on the floor. The animal acted like she was on springs, bouncing from one area to the next, inspecting and scampering away again. When she eventually slowed, she walked carefully around the perimeter of the slips of paper as if stalking the entries, trying each name on for size. She stopped, sniffed, and stood completely upright with one piece of paper stuck to her mouth.

“That’s it then,” Yasi said as she retrieved the paper and read the results. “Meet Cannonball.”

Audrey scooped the kitten up and held her in her palm. “Cannonball. Seems appropriate for the way you’ve been hurling yourself around. I might have to call you CB. Cannonball isn’t very ladylike.” Her new charge licked her wrist and Audrey could’ve sworn she smiled.

Yasi rolled off the sofa and started toward the door. “Well, my work here is done.”

“Hey, wait a minute.”

“Only kidding. I’ll get the rest of CB’s belongings from the car. I couldn’t give you a kitten without the necessary accoutrements. That would be like having a computer without the Internet—basically no point. Be right back.”

Cannonball sat perfectly still and stared at her as if trying to relay a message. “What is it, little one?” CB stretched out across Audrey’s stomach and closed her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

Yasi returned with a pretty pink cat carrier lined with a heating pad and Hello Kitty blanket, a litter box and litter, and another bag full of food and toys. “Everything you need to make this little girl comfortable.”

They spent a while deciding the best spot for CB’s nest, locating her near the hub of activity to acclimate her to the new surroundings. Audrey put food and water in her dish, left it nearby, and turned the heating pad on low. When she opened the door of the crate, CB scooted inside and burrowed under the blanket, obviously tired from the naming exercise.