Paid in Full (2 page)

Ari nodded and held up a finger indicating she only would be a second as she started toward the buyers’ car. Detective Nelson firmly planted a hand on her elbow, stopping her stride. “Ms. Adams, where are you going? I need that statement now.”

Ari turned slowly and stared at her reflection through the woman’s sunglasses. The detective’s impatience was evident and deep creases lined her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Detective, but I need to let those people know they won’t be viewing this property today.” She motioned to the couple, who were now chatting with a neighbor and undoubtedly learning all about the commotion. “Besides,” she added, “I’m sure you don’t want extra people traipsing around your crime scene.”

Molly Nelson nodded, but she wasn’t paying attention. The sight of this woman had taken her breath away. She’d just fallen on the murder case of the year, but she found herself lost in Ari Adams’s dark green eyes.

“Detective, you need to let me go,” Ari said with a broad grin. Molly glanced down and blushed. Her hand still held Ari’s elbow. She quickly withdrew it and murmured, “Sorry,” before walking away.

By the time Ari reached the buyers, they were already piling back into the Maxima, sure that the neighborhood was unsafe. She apologized, but as the car sped away, she was certain a commission had too.

She needed aspirin. The yard was flooded with people and equipment, all for the benefit of someone who no longer existed. Cops searched, techs measured, the coroner studied, but nothing could change the outcome. She cocooned herself in the SUV and gulped three aspirin. She watched the blond detective emerge from the house with the coroner, talking on her cell phone while giving instructions to Ben Hastings. It was clear to Ari that whoever was on the other end of that phone made the detective nervous. She nodded constantly, shifted her weight from foot to foot and ran her hand through her hair incessantly. The conversation ended abruptly with the detective pulling the phone from her ear and snapping it shut with one hand. She stared at the phone, and Ari watched her heave her shoulders with a huge sigh as she dropped the phone into her pocket. Ari was fascinated. Detective Nelson clearly had full command of the investigation, but there was something tentative about her, something unsure. When the detective looked in Ari’s direction, their eyes locked and oddly, Ari felt a tingle shoot down her back. Where in the world did that come from?

Detective Nelson frowned, obviously not feeling the same surge of electricity, and marched over to the SUV. “Is now a good time?” she snapped.

Ari’s gaze followed the curves of Detective Nelson’s body. She was in her mid-thirties, very well endowed and an extra blouse button had come undone, revealing more cleavage than she probably intended. The pale, white ridges rose and fell with her breathing. “Your button,” Ari whispered, with a slight motion.

The detective quickly adjusted herself, turning red in the process. “Thanks,” she mumbled. She sighed and stuck out her hand in truce. “Maybe we could start over. I’m Detective Molly Nelson.”

“Ari Adams.” The detective had removed her shades revealing crystal blue eyes that would have been beautiful were it not for the deep bags sagging underneath them. “You look like you could use some of these,” Ari offered, holding up the bottle of aspirin.

Molly gratefully swallowed the pills dry. The minute she’d pulled the vic’s wallet from his pocket and read his name, she knew her life had immediately changed. This case would make or break her career.

Molly focused on her notepad as her hormones rapidly trampled over her professionalism. Just touching Ari’s cool hand made Molly hot, and when Ari spoke, her voice had a breathy, seductive quality, whether Ari meant it to or not.

Ari Adams could have been a model instead of a real estate agent. She oozed grace, even in the way she sat in the leather seat, her long legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. She formed her smile with perfect lips—legs and lips, the two features Molly always seemed to notice when she looked at a woman. She cleared her throat. “Miss Adams, could you tell me how you found the body?”

Ari retold the story, eliminating the part about her momentary snooping. Molly scribbled, continually nodding throughout the account but watching Ari carefully. Every move Ari made was deliberate. When a strand of her jet black hair fell from the makeshift bun, Ari slowly tucked it back behind her ear with her index finger, a gesture Molly found hypnotic. She tried to focus on Ari’s statement, but she couldn’t stop staring at the real estate agent. She already knew who Ari was—the daughter of a cop legend. It was hard to believe that the beauty in front of her was related to the bear of a man everyone knew as Big Jack.

“Who else has access to the house?” Molly asked automatically, hoping that she hadn’t already asked the question.

“Well, I have a key, there’s a key in the lockbox for other agents and service people, and I really couldn’t tell you how many other keys my clients have.” Molly underlined something in her notebook several times.

“So, tell me about the owners,” she said, flipping back a few pages in her notes. “A Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Watson?”

“Well, they’re very nice. The Watsons are an elderly couple who have already moved to Florida to retire. I’m really working for their son who has been given power of attorney.”

“The son,” Molly murmured. “What’s his name?”

It was like lightning striking Ari’s brain. Molly peered over her notes, conscious of Ari’s hesitation. “His name’s Bob. Bob Watson.”

Molly’s head jerked up. “Robert.”

Ari tried to hide the emotional torment that was welling inside. The idea of Bob Watson being implicated in a murder was absurd. He was an established member of the community, a business entrepreneur and one of her dearest friends from high school. They had briefly dated before she acknowledged the truth about herself. More importantly, Bob stood by her five years later after she’d been disowned by her parents for choosing an “unnatural lifestyle.”

“Ms. Adams, is something wrong?” The detective’s voice drew Ari away from the unpleasant memories.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The pounding in her head was getting worse. “It’s just I know Bob Watson, and there’s no way he could be involved in something like this.”

The detective flashed a sad smile. She heard this line all the time.

“Look,” Ari continued emphatically, “I’m telling you that the message behind the bar is deceptive. It’s not . . .”

Her words trailed off as Detective Nelson’s expression darkened. “And how would you know about that?”

Ari blushed. “Okay, you caught me. I followed the blood and saw the name on the wall.” Molly waited, knowing there was more. Ari wanted to lie, but for some reason, she found she couldn’t. “I did look through the other rooms, just to see how much damage there was.”

“And?” Molly prompted.

Ari shifted uncomfortably. “I accidentally touched the handle on the patio door.” Molly cursed under her breath, sending Ari into a shotgun explanation. “It was dumb, I know better than that, but I can guarantee you my fingerprints will be all over that house anyway.”

“And possibly over the fingerprints of the killer,” Molly interjected. Ari slumped in the seat, her poise abandoned for the moment. Molly watched Ari massage her temples, her cheeks crimson from embarrassment. An apology tried to work its way from Molly’s lips but she swallowed it down. She didn’t have anything to be sorry for. Ari deserved to be chewed out, and if it hurt her beautiful feelings, then so be it. Still, Molly found herself planted to the ground, unable to storm away as she was accustomed. She reached over and touched her arm. “You know, Ms. she observed in a kind voice.

The change in demeanor drew Ari’s gaze back to Molly’s. Ari studied the piercing blue eyes, stern but caring. She stared at Molly a little longer than was polite before smiling. “I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “Natural curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Molly countered, as she involuntarily smiled back at Ari. Someone called her name and the smile faded. She nodded to Ari and turned away, mortified by her own behavior. What was she doing, flirting with a civilian at a crime scene? Where was her professionalism? “Focus now, Nelson,” she whispered to herself.

Ari watched Molly stride away, the smell of musk still lingering in the truck. To clear her head, Ari hopped out and ventured a few feet onto the grass.

Ben Hastings rounded the corner and called, “You still here?” Ari grinned conspiratorially. She loved joking with Ben. He was a second father to her and the only person who understood why she had left the Tucson Police Department after one short year.

Ben fished a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped the sweat from his leathery face. “So did you talk to Nelson?”

“Uh-huh. She took my statement and scolded me for snooping.”

Ben wagged a knowing finger and shook his head. He knew Ari would never change. He also noticed her blush when he mentioned Molly Nelson. She was staring at the grass, using the toe of an expensive loafer to pock the ground and avoid his eyes. Ben watched her struggle with her feelings. He loved Ari dearly. She had endured more in her thirty-two years than most people did in an entire lifetime. Everyone had abandoned her in one way or another, but he would always be there. And if anyone deserved an opportunity to find happiness, it was Ari. “Yes,” he said plainly.

“What?” Ari asked, only slightly puzzled.

“Yes, she’s your type. She’s thirty-five, born and raised here, moved away for a while, really good at her job. That’s about all I know.”

Ari’s cheeks flushed. Why did she care? She was in absolutely no position to want any woman. Her career was her life, at least that’s what her last lover had believed. She stared down at the large divot and pushed dirt back in the hole. “So who was the guy inside?”

Ben sighed. “You’re gonna get me into a lot of trouble, Ari.”

“C’mon, Ben,” she said, using her voice from childhood, the voice that had always won Ben over, whether it was for another game of checkers or another push on the swing.

Ben scowled and looked around. “Michael Thorndike.”

It took only a second for the name to register. “The guy who renovated most of the downtown area? The leader of the Phoenix League?”

“Shhhh.” Ben cautioned. “Yes, that Michael Thorndike.”

“So how did he die?”

“Two shots from a thirty-eight caliber. One to the chest and one to the gut.”

“Any theories as to how it happened?”

“Estimated time of death is somewhere between eight and ten last night. He probably got shot while he was standing behind the bar, wrote his killer’s name on the wall and tried to drag himself out toward the door. Got as far as the living room.”

“That’s an awful lot for a dying man to do,” Ari muttered. “Are they sure he wrote it?”

Ben nodded. “According to the coroner, that name was written by Michael Thorndike himself. They got a nice clear fingerprint at the top of the b. Matched his bloody right hand.”

Ari exhaled. If that were true, then it meant Michael Thorndike had used the last of his strength to identify his killer. Bob would be questioned and probably arrested before nightfall. eyes shifting from Ben to Ari, who pretended not to notice. She turned away, just as she had done throughout most of her life, every time a guy had come on to her. Except for Bob. Bob had been different.

Ben nodded to Ari and wandered back to the front door with the young cop while Ari took a few steps away and surveyed the crime scene. Things were starting to wind down. The body was being removed and some of the techs were packing up. Ari spotted Molly across the lawn talking to a young black detective. There was no question about who was in charge as Molly pointed at the ground and barked an order. Ari guessed this was Molly’s partner and clearly he hadn’t done his job correctly. She held up fingers, ticking off a list of things while the man wrote furiously in his notebook. She yelled, “Get it done!” before stomping toward Ari.

“You’re free to go, Miss Adams,” Molly said curtly, as she walked past Ari. The shades and the attitude were back, and Ari noticed Molly didn’t look at her.

Something gnawed at Ari. Once a cop . . .

“Detective,” Ari called. Molly stopped and turned abruptly, impatience written into her expression. “Why would Michael Thorndike bother to drag himself out from behind the bar after he wrote Bob’s name? It’s not like there was a phone out there. And why would he write
Robert
? Most everyone calls Bob Watson, just that,
Bob
.”

“We don’t know the answer to those questions, Ms. Adams, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Now, I am going to ask you to leave the crime scene. I know your father is a friend of just about everyone here, but that doesn’t give you the right to stick your nose in my investigation,” Molly said.

Ari’s defenses rose at the mention of Jack Adams. “I think you’re forgetting something, Detective. I’m the agent on this house, and I’m legally responsible for this property. My clients are going to want an explanation as to what happened and why part of their five thousand dollar floor must be replaced again.”

“Well, all I know is that your friend Mr. Watson better have a good alibi,” Molly retorted, her cell phone ringing in her pocket. She scowled as she retrieved it. Beautiful or not, Molly hated amateurs. “If we need anything else we’ll be in touch, Ms. Adams,” she said before she flipped open the receiver and walked away.

Ari headed to the SUV, Molly’s words ringing in her ears. She had no idea how Bob could be implicated in the murder of a Phoenix power magnate, since it was absolutely unbelievable. Yet, it was also too coincidental. Somehow Bob was involved.

She pulled away from the house, a house she had visited hundreds of times during her teenage years. Images of Michael Thorndike’s body and the bloody message clouded her mind. She pushed them away, unwilling to contaminate the memories of her youth.

Bob had been the most important person in her life for a long time. They met when he was a high school junior and she a sophomore. They were both on the track team, only mildly aware of the other’s existence, until the day they shared a seat on the team bus and became fast friends. Bob wanted more, but Ari brushed him off, like every other guy. He persisted, and Ari finally went out with him a few times and even agreed to go steady. Kissing him had been a chore, but at least with a boyfriend, it was as if a “No Trespassing” sign had been posted on her body, and the boys left her alone. No surprise, really. Bob was the state’s number one shot putter—no one would dare mess with his girl. Still, it wasn’t right. Ari knew he deserved better.