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    Old Man Peterson, Murder, It's All in the Family
    Old Man Peterson, Murder, It's All in the Family
    Old Man Peterson, Murder, It's All in the Family
    Ebook480 pages5 hours

    Old Man Peterson, Murder, It's All in the Family

    By B.L Wilson

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    About this ebook

    Lieutenant Abigaile Truman’s latest case involves a skeleton in the closet, literally; and it has been there for sixty years. Ina Peterson’s husband has been missing for just that long, so odds are the skeleton is his. Thing is, Ina has what appears to be a serious case of dementia, and her fiery granddaughter Jannita has her claws out in her defense. She and Truman clash in every way—or do they? As the case progresses, increasingly sabotaged by outside forces, it becomes obvious that there is more than one skeleton in the Peterson’s closet, and someone is resorting to murder to keep them there.
    In this surprising, sassy romance, sparks of contention turn to passion as Ina’s story of struggle during the Depression in the South and betrayal and lust when she marries above her station slowly changes the lives of three very different women.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherB.L Wilson
    Release dateDec 2, 2018
    ISBN9780463626009
    Old Man Peterson, Murder, It's All in the Family
    Author

    B.L Wilson

    B.L. has always been in love with books and the words in them. She never thought she could create something with the words she knew. When she read ‘To Kill A Mocking Bird,’ she realized everyday experiences could be written about in a powerful, memorable way. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge so she kept on reading.Walter Mosley’s short stories about Easy Rawlins and his friends encouraged BL to start writing in earnest. She felt she had a story to tell...maybe several of them. She’d always kept a diary of some sort, scraps of paper, pocketsize, notepads, blank backs of agency forms, or in the margins of books. It was her habit to make these little notes to herself. She thought someday she’d make them into a book.She wrote a workplace memoir based on the people she met during her 20 years as a property manager of city-owned buildings. Writing the memoir, led her to consider writing books that were not job-related. Once again, she did...producing romance novels with African American lesbians as main characters. She wrote the novels because she couldn’t find stories that matched who she wanted to read about ...over forty, African American and female.

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      Book preview

      Old Man Peterson, Murder, It's All in the Family - B.L Wilson

      Old Man Peterson

      murder it’s all in the family

      by

      B.L. Wilson

      Old Man Peterson

      murder it’s all in the family

      Brought to you by

      Patchwork Bluez Press

      Old Man Peterson, murder it’s all in the family

      Copyright 2018 by B. L. Wilson.

      All rights reserved.

      Smashwords Edition

      No part of this e-book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the author.

      This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity in name, description, or history of characters in this book to actual individuals either living or dead is purely coincidental.

      Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

      Edited by BZ Hercules

      www.bzhercules.com

      To all the people in my life who had faith in me and said you can do it no matter what it was:

      To all the people in my life who listened to my ideas and never made fun of them:

      To all the people in my life who saw all my flaws, never demean me and loved me despite them:

      To all the people I have yet to meet:

      To all the people who bought my books through the years, read them talked about them and encouraged friends to buy them as well:

      I thank all of you for the various roles you have played in my life, and please stay in my life.

      The 72-hour rule of investigation: All good detectives know if a case isn’t solved within the first 3 days, the odds for solving it go down…way, way down.

      ~Quote from the crime channel~

      Chapter 1 Monday’s Old Bones

      He musta been the thing stinking up my closet all them years. Smell like old Mr. Rat crawl off an’ die. I use me some ammonia up in there. It cut th’ smell right down. I thinking the old coot went out for a quart of milk an’ got lost or find hisself another woman. Guess that’s why he never come back, huh? The elderly Black woman looked up at the female officer from her seat on the living room couch.

      Lieutenant Abigaile Truman wanted to laugh when she heard the old woman’s statement. She might have chuckled to herself if the old woman’s granddaughter, a Miss Jannita Davis, hadn’t begun to wail and then tried unsuccessfully to silence her grandmother. This was going to make an interesting story to tell her captain when she returned to the precinct, but she’d bet going back to the station wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, she mused as she eyed the two women huddled together on the outdated gray couch. She wondered if the old woman, Mrs. Ina Peterson, was telling the truth. That was why she and her detectives were here, to find out what happened to the skeleton buried in the old woman’s closet behind her winter coats. It was one helluva way to start a Monday morning.

      Mrs. Peterson, do you know why we’re here?

      The granddaughter’s head jerked up suddenly. She glared at the lieutenant as she rubbed her grandmother’s bony hand. Don’t answer that, Nana. They’re just trying to blame you for something. Angry dark eyes stared hard into the lieutenant’s face until she sighed uncomfortably and looked down at the narrow black notebook in her hand.

      Abigaile shrugged. She needed to get the granddaughter away from the charmingly frank old woman. She ignored the nasty eye roll from the granddaughter to smile at the old woman. She motioned for Detective Vaughn Mercer to follow her into the hallway, where they could speak privately. Excuse me a minute, Ma’am. I need to see how my officers are doing.

      Mercer reluctantly followed her into the hallway, muttering softly under his breath. What did Lieutenant Bitch want now? He sighed. She was disturbing his viewing time. The Davis woman was a hot-looking babe. She was available too. He’d noticed there wasn’t a ring on her finger as soon as he met her. She was built just the way he liked his women to look; she wasn’t too tall … maybe about five foot five inches, she had big tits, a heart-shaped ass, a small waist, and shapely legs that could wrap easily around him in bed during a passionate encounter. He bet her coffee-light complexion darkened and turned bronze in the hot sun of summer. And she’d fit underneath him just right, unlike the overrated Amazon the department thought would make a better lieutenant than he would. As far as he was concerned, the lieutenant was a series of twos. She was too tall for him—at five foot ten, she stood nearly eye to eye with him when she issued her dumb-ass commands; her figure was too broad—she had a shape, but he didn’t give a shit about solid and wide; her cinnamon complexion was too dark for his tastes; her manner was too bossy, she lacked a sense of humor, and she was way too clever for her own good.

      Detective Mercer, are you with me? Abigaile ignored his disrespectful utterances and snapped her fingers under his nose to gain his attention. Once she caught his eye, she pointed a thumb in the direction of the living room couch. Keep an eye on those two for a minute. Don’t let them out of your sight. I’ll get Stevenson to finish the interview.

      Mercer rolled his eyes at her orders then folded his arms across his chest. When did I become a goddamned babysitter? I don’t see why I can’t interview them.

      Abigaile mentally counted to ten before she answered him. Mercer was acting exceptionally difficult today. She’d be glad to rid of him for the few hours she’d be able to spend back in her office. You know Stevenson is the primary on this one, Mercer. Wait for him to do the interview. Okay?

      Mercer waved a dismissive hand. Yeah, yeah, I heard ya…Truman.

      Abigaile considered confronting Mercer for not addressing her as a superior officer, but she decided against it. Bringing Detective Ron Stevenson back into the picture was more important than her personal feelings about one of her detectives. She strode down the hallway, where the crime scene technicians had set up shop. She nodded at one of the technicians she knew from another case and pulled on a pair of latex gloves before she touched anything. Has anybody seen Detective Stevenson?

      Yeah, he went to the head, Lieutenant. Another technician, one she didn’t know, pointed further down the hallway. It’s the last door on the right, Ma’am.

      Christ! The kid from the lab made Abigaile feel old when he called her Ma’am. Huh, maybe she was getting old. She walked down the hall, wondering if turning forty made her old.

      Stevenson, you in there? Abigaile asked as she tapped on the closed bathroom door. What was he doing in there anyway? He knew better than to disturb a crime scene by using the facilities. For all she knew, the entire small narrow apartment might fit the definition of a crime scene. That would mean informing Mrs. Peterson’s granddaughter that she’d have to find another place for her grandmother to stay until they’d finished with the investigation. She didn’t relish having to perform that task. Something else bothered her too. Why would the Davis woman allow her grandmother to live in this shabby place when the expensive outfit she wore said she could afford a much nicer place for the old lady to spend her last days?

      Yeah. Detective Ronald Stevenson opened the bathroom door with a cheerful smile. I decided to look around the place. Look what I found, Abby. He held up several prescription bottles with latex-gloved hands.

      Abigaile was glad to see that he’d exercised crime scene protocol.

      This one’s for allergies. Stevenson held up the bottle containing small pink pills. I take ‘em too. My pills are bigger, though. She probably has trouble swallowing large pills. Voila, the same medication but made in a smaller pill. This one’s for diabetes. He held a white pill in the palm of a gloved hand. My mother uses the same brand. He shook the last bottle of pills in front of Abigaile’s face, frowning. I don’t know what this one is for. He flipped the bottle up in the air and Abigaile caught it in one gloved hand. Nice catch, Lieutenant. You should come back and play on our team this summer.

      Ron Stevenson watched Abigaile frown.

      Abigaile read the label on the prescription bottle and then threw it back to him. Double check all the pills, Ron. Get back to me.

      Do you want me to bag all the bottles?

      Abigaile stared into space for a moment considering something, and then shook her head. No. The old lady probably needs the pills. Just bag a couple of pills from each bottle and send ‘em to Forensics. Separate bags per pill, okay?

      Why don’t you let me ask the granddaughter? She looks like she’d know what pills her ‘Nana pops. Ron grinned suggestively then wiggled dark brows and winked at his boss.

      Abigaile sighed as she stared at Ron Stevenson. Wipe that leer off your face, Ronny, after you take your mind out of the gutter.

      Sorry about that. I was just trying to make you smile, Abby. Ron allowed his dimples and white even teeth to show, hoping it was enough win over his boss. Why did you come back here to see me?

      I thought that you might be able to reach the granddaughter with your polite manners and gentlemanly behavior. Abigaile rubbed at the sudden tension in her neck as she studied him. I hope I wasn’t wrong, Ronny. I need you to convince the Davis woman to allow Mercer to interview her grandmother.

      Ah…I see. You came back here because you needed my help. Ron Stevenson’s grin grew wider until Abigaile thought he’d split the pink skin of his lips. Hmm, I’m surprised you didn’t ask Mercer. He’s more the playa, player, than I am.

      Which is why I didn’t ask him, Ronny. I think the Davis woman would respond better to somebody who wasn’t trying to get into her panties every other second.

      How do you know I won’t do the same thing as Mercer?

      I know you won’t try anything because you’ve got class. Abigaile allowed a little smile to appear before she added, Besides, you need your job to pay for the mortgage on your condo.

      Ron chuckled as he dropped the pills into separate evidence envelopes. He noted the name of the medication in his notepad and on the envelopes after he sealed them, then slipped them into a breast pocket. He took off the latex gloves and bagged them as well. Okay. I’m all set. Lead me to the granddaughter. What’s her name again?

      Abigaile consulted her notepad, flipped several pages, and ran a finger down one of them. Her name is … ah, Jannita Davis. The grandmother’s name is Ina Peterson.

      Ron waved a finger in the air and then shook his hips, doing an imitation of a hootchie-cootchie dancer as he strolled down the hall. Gotcha, he said over his shoulder.

      Abigaile ignored his antics to scratch her head as she looked around the bathroom. She might have to expand the crime scene to include the bathroom too. The granddaughter wasn’t going to be happy about this. Then again, Ms. Davis didn’t impress her as being happy, period.

      For somebody who had great taste in expensive clothes, jewelry, makeup, and perfume, Ms. Davis looked miserable today. Who knows, maybe her negative attitude was a result of discovering a human skeleton in her grandmother’s wall. She made some quick notes as a reminder to consider expanding the crime scene. She eyed the granddaughter from her position in the hallway outside one of the bedrooms and wondered what the Davis woman’s story was.

      The apartment belonged to Ina Peterson. The super told the detectives that much when he let them in the building’s entrance door. When Ron asked the super about Ina Peterson, he said that she lived alone, except for the visits from her granddaughter every few days. He said Jannita Davis had been coming by to check on the old woman more often lately. When Ron asked why, the super signaled with a winding motion of his finger to his head, indicating that the old woman was crazy.

      He claimed that Ina Peterson heard voices in the middle of the night and constantly pestered him to check her place for signs of a break-in. He said he’d never found anything or anyone. When pressed further, the super said one of the local alley cats liked to visit Ina’s apartment. It would climb through her open window and take up residence under her bed or in her closet at night. According to the super, the cat’s purring and growling sounds were the only noises Ina Peterson heard at night.

      Now the discovery of the skeleton in the closet added a different dimension. The super said the plumber’s helper was repairing a leak in one of the basement lines and a pipe broke. He opened the floors and wall area directly above the leak to check the condition of the remaining pipes. The helper discovered about forty feet of corroded pipe that ran from the basement to the first-floor tenant’s bathroom and ended on the second floor in Ina Peterson’s closet.

      When the helper opened Ina Peterson’s closet wall to replace the pipes, he discovered the skeleton. The super confided that the helper was shook up. He didn’t know what to do after he found the skeleton. He didn’t want trouble with the police since he was on parole. The super let the helper leave, then he called the granddaughter. She rushed over to check on her grandmother. Once the granddaughter saw the skeleton, she called the police, which was how the crime scene crew came to be in the apartment.

      Abigaile sighed as she eyed the Davis woman from her position in the hallway, then she checked her notes for the helper’s name and address. She’d send Detectives Green and Lopez to check out his story. She needed to find out why the Davis woman delayed calling the police. The time frame the super gave for Davis’ arrival left at least sixty minutes between her arrival and her first call to the precinct. What did the Davis woman do in the apartment for over an hour? She shook her head and rubbed her neck.

      When the Davis woman called to report what she believed was a human skeleton in her grandmother’s closet, nobody at the precinct believed her. She went through several layers of the department before reaching somebody with common sense and the authority to use it. The people she first spoke with thought she was a crank caller who was drunk, stoned, or crazy. Finally, the Davis woman’s uncle made one phone call. That one call to One PP trickled all the crap down and it landed in her captain’s lap. He called her from his office then ordered her to take her best detectives and Get on this shit yesterday! It was a commissioner’s special, he said, then suggested not so subtly she give the case the hands-on treatment.

      She frowned. She believed in giving every case a personal touch if she could. She didn’t need the captain telling her how to manage her cases or her people. In fact, she pissed Edmonds off because she spent too much time in the field. She nearly spent as much time in the field as a new lieutenant as she did when she was a sergeant. Edmonds claimed he was trying to break her of what he considered a bad habit. He was fond of reminding her that lieutenants were supposed to give the order to dig trenches not help dig the holes, except for today and this one. How did she get so lucky to be stuck with this case?

      Guys, I want you to expand the crime scene to include the bathroom, Abigaile remarked, stopping to speak with one of the crime lab technicians.

      Crime Scene Investigator Chapman frowned at her words. Lieutenant, whoever did this is long gone. Do you have any idea how long it takes for the flesh to fall off a body and for the guts to dry out?

      I believe that’s your line of work.

      Chapman frowned. I don’t see how we’re going to find this perpetrator. I think you oughta turn the case over to the cold case unit.

      Gee, thanks for the unsolicited advice … Chapman, is it? Abigaile remarked after leaning over to eyeball the young man’s ID badge. I’ll take it under advisement. The kid’s remarks annoyed her no end. Who did Chapman think he was anyway? She’d bet this was his first homicide. He thought he was a hotshot criminalist expert. But he was just a kid with hardly enough time with the department to know where the bathrooms were, let alone tell her how to dispose of a case. She’d like to send his butt right back to the lab he came from, but the little wise ass probably had connections in the right places to protect him.

      Ignoring her personal feelings, Abigaile went to see if her lead detective had succeeded in separating the granddaughter from the old woman. She heard loud laughter coming from the living room. It sounded like a party was going on in the room. That was good news. It meant Ron got the granddaughter alone to practice his charms on her while Mercer interviewed the grandmother. Once she entered the living room, it was a different story. She should have taken the cold, deadeye stare from the Davis woman as a red flag. Her look said get the hell out of here, you’re interrupting me, and she placed a friendly hand on Detective Mercer’s arm as she laughed at one of his bad jokes. Meanwhile, Ron sulked as he sat on the arm of the second sofa, looking like he wanted to kill Mercer.

      Abigaile studied the scene as she entered the living room. She realized nobody had interviewed Ina Peterson because she was fast asleep on one of the couches. Christ, the Davis woman knew how to work her detectives. In less than two hours, she’d managed to set two detectives at each other’s throats, prevented the grandmother’s interview, and stopped the progress of the investigation. Thank God she hadn’t gone in the back to speak with Chapman and his co-workers or she would have stopped the evidence gathering too.

      She exhaled as she eyed Ron’s angry stance and Mercer’s happy one. She’d settled their latest dispute not more than 24 hours ago. The disagreement was about a fellow cop who’d beaten his wife into unconsciousness. The cop shot and killed the man his wife was in bed with when he came home early. Ron said the evidence showed the husband knew she was having an affair with the dead man. Mercer disagreed. He wanted the husband to take a voluntary manslaughter rap; he just couldn’t get the evidence to say it.

      Detective Mercer, may I see you outside in the hallway, please? Abby remarked, staring at his back as she entered the living room.

      Mercer spoke in soft tones to Jannita Davis. He spun around quickly to face Abigaile. He met her eyes with an annoyed glare. I’m not finished here, Truman. I was just explaining to Ms. Davis how it might be better if she invited her grandmother to stay with her for a day or two until we finished here. I told her how we didn’t want to inconvenience her or her grandmother. I promised her the investigation would be quick and painless. I told her the chances of finding the killer was practically zero.

      Vaughn Mercer deeply offended Abigaile with his arrogance and his stupidity. Rather than say anything to him, she silently counted to ten. She stopped counting at nineteen. You told her all that, did you, Detective Mercer? she demanded with an edge to her voice.

      Vaughn bristled at her tone. Yeah, I did, Truman. I thought Ms. Davis deserved a little honesty from us since our department shuffled her request all around Robin Hood’s barn. You know how the first 72 hours are the most critical in a murder case. But that skeleton’s clock stopped measuring time decades ago.

      Shit! Mercer couldn’t be that pussy hungry, could he? A detective never gave away the pieces of his theory to persons of interests without getting something in return. Mercer was trying to look good in front of Ms. Davis. He was trolling for a date in waters far too deep and rich for him. She was disgusted he’d use this case to do it. She needed to get out of here before she exploded.

      Abigaile started a new ten count. She made it all the way to thirty before she felt curious eyes studying her. She looked down into dark eyes that reminded her of a Corgi she’d seen one time in a pet shop. She almost bought the dog but decided against the purchase at the last minute. The animal seemed too human. She couldn’t picture walking the human-looking dog any more than she could imagine being alone in the same room with Jannita Davis without doing some bodily harm to her.

      Jannita Davis turned away from the tall female officer to smile sweetly at the detective next to her. Detective Mercer? she purred in a low throaty voice then touched Mercer’s knee for emphasis. I want to thank you for being so sensitive to my grandmother’s situation. I had no idea my little phone call would bring so many of New York’s finest here.

      Christ, another country heard from! Abigaile muttered under her breath. She held her notepad in one hand and pressed the tense muscles at the back of her neck with the other.

      I can see why you passed the lieutenant’s exam, Detective Mercer, Ms. Davis continued in a contralto voice that reminded Abigaile of whiskey nights spent in smoky bars. Jannita Davis gave his knee a slight pat for emphasis. I’m sure you’ll be promoted to the next lieutenant’s slot. Is it all right for me to pack a few things for my grandmother?

      Mercer thrust his chest out and held his stomach in as he preened for the Davis woman. He responded to her request like he was in charge of the investigation and Abigaile wasn’t. I don’t see why not, Nita, er, I mean, Ms. Davis.

      Abigaile needed to stop this shit before the case slid out the door along with the evidence the granddaughter was about to take with her. She thumbed in the direction of the hallway and raised her voice. Detective Mercer, I’m not gonna ask you again. I’m ordering you to get in the hallway now!

      Ina Peterson, who’d been sitting quietly beside her granddaughter, so quiet that Abigaile thought she was asleep, suddenly became agitated. Who’s the lady doing all that fussin’? Why she yelling at my boy? He a nice man. Tell her to quieten down or I’ll see that she git thrown out when them police gets here. She shoved the glasses that were on a chain around her neck to the bridge of her nose and peered up at Abigaile then shook her finger. You stop yelling at my boy, young lady, or I’ll call the cops on you.

      Abigaile sucked in a deep breath as she eyed Mercer and then the old woman. Christ, I don’t believe this!

      The old woman stood up full of fury, putting bony hands on her hips. As she approached Abigaile, she shook an angry finger at her. I know who you are, you she-devil! You was always tryin’ to git my Delbert in trouble. You stay away from him. He a good boy an’ he don’t have to marry you.

      Abigaile frowned as the old woman approached her. She was unsure if she’d have to defend herself against an assault. Shit! That was all she needed to make this day even more miserable. She held out her hands with her palms turned upward in front of her as she backed away slowly. She kept the old woman’s eyes focused on her face. Yes, Ma’am. You’re right. I’ll stay away from him, she murmured gently. I’m sorry if I frightened you, Mrs. Peterson. Please forgive me, she added quietly.

      Ina Peterson stopped where she was. She hid a girlish giggle behind her hand and played with her long gray hair like she was a child, twirling it and twisting it around a bony finger. Who’s Mrs. Peterson? I ain’t married, Miss Lacy, you know that. How I be married when I ain’t finished my schooling yet?

      Abigaile scratched her head as she stared at the woman and signaled Ron and Mercer to step back. What the hell was going on here? What was wrong with the old woman? First, she was a mother protecting a son named Delbert and then she became a young girl who hadn’t graduated high school. Was Ina Peterson schizoid or what? I’m sorry, I forgot.

      That okay, Miss Lacy. I forgives you this time. Ina Peterson giggled like a young schoolgirl.

      For a moment, Abigaile thought the old woman was going to skip away, when her shoulders suddenly slumped.

      Ina Peterson blinked twice and then rubbed her head in confusion. Oh my! I’m tired. Where’s my grandbaby? the old woman stumbled, turning too quickly.

      Abigaile reached out to break her fall, but Vaughn Mercer was quicker. He caught the old woman’s frail body and carried her over to the couch. Jannita Davis stood wide-eyed and frozen in one spot. She studied the scene. It was a toss-up which woman needed more help. Did the old woman lying quietly on the couch need help more than the confused young woman did? She didn’t need two victims on her hands today. She approached Jannita Davis quietly and repeated her name softly until she turned in the direction of her voice. Ms. Davis, how are you doing? She watched as the signs of recognition slowly spread over Jannita Davis’ face. She could see the fear in the woman’s eyes and finally watched fury settle into her features.

      I ought to report you for this, Lieutenant Truman! My grandmother hasn’t had an episode like this in months. I know you and your stupid investigation caused this one. I want you and your men out of here, now!

      Luminous dark angry eyes glared at Abigaile and all she could think of was how beautiful those eyes were. Christ, what is wrong with me? I must be insane. This case is making me crazy, she thought, rubbing her forehead. She could feel the beginnings of a headache whirling around the edges of her brain. She sighed. So much for an easy investigation, she muttered. At least Vaughn Mercer remained silent for once, she thought, staring at the two men sitting on the couch behind her.

      Speak up, Lieutenant Truman! Jannita snapped. I didn’t catch that last remark.

      That’s because it wasn’t meant for your goddamned ears to hear, Abigaile muttered without thinking.

      You are every bit as crude as Detective Mercer said you were, Lieutenant Truman. Why don’t you just leave! Tell your boss to put Detective Mercer in charge because I’m not letting you set foot in this apartment again! Jannita Davis stepped closer until she was almost in Abigaile’s face. Why so quiet, Lieutenant Truman? Don’t you have anything to say?

      Abigaile wondered if she drew her service revolver and capped the woman where she stood who’d testify on her behalf at her murder trial. Mercer wouldn’t do it for her. The lab rat Chapman would probably testify for the prosecution as well. Ronny…well, who knew what he’d do, as angry as he was right now. He was shaking his head disgustedly and rolling his eyes in her direction. She cleared her throat then tried her best smile on the Davis woman. Look, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Ms. Davis. When a citizen calls us, we never know what we’ll find when we get to the scene, but we have to answer the complaint. It’s our job.

      Is that your facetious way of saying I brought this on myself?

      Abigaile frowned when she realized everything she said was going to be misinterpreted.

      I suppose next you’ll blame my grandmother for the dead body in her wall.

      Abigaile thought she’d kept her face impassive, but she couldn’t stop her eyes widening at the accuracy of Jannita Davis’ statement.

      You consider my grandmother a suspect, don’t you, Lieutenant? Jannita Davis sighed heavily when she read the answer in Abigaile’s eyes. You’re some piece of work, aren’t you, Lieutenant? You tight-assed, civil-service bitch! Well, I know people at City Hall. We’ll just see what they think of your investigative techniques!

      Abigaile watched Jannita Davis spin around on expensive heels and stomp back to the couch to stand over her grandmother. She knelt down to dig through a tote bag for a cell phone. She punched in some numbers and began an animated discussion. Whomever she was speaking with asked a series of questions. She watched the Davis woman wave angrily in her direction as her voice rose in fury. When Jannita Davis realized some of her conversation was audible, she stalked over to the window then turned her back to continue the discussion.

      Ron caught Abigaile’s eye and ran a finger across his lips like he was locking them and throwing the invisible key away. He rolled his eyes in the air and then shook his head sadly at her.

      Abigaile nodded in agreement. She stared at Vaughn Mercer, but he refused to meet her eyes, choosing instead to pat the old woman’s hand. She knew Mercer couldn’t give a shit about the old woman; he just wanted to look good for the Davis woman. If he could make a fool of her in the process, that would be so much better for his lawsuit.

      A group of female supervisors had warned Abigaile that Mercer might try something like this. She’d taken their advice to heart and had given Mercer leeway on cases when maybe she shouldn’t have, but he’d tested her limits today. Unfortunately, she’d lost her temper and that gave Mercer the edge. He moved in and started his shit with the Davis woman and her grandmother.

      Abigaile sighed as she watched Jannita Davis flip her phone shut and then stare at her with an evil triumphant grin. She knew trouble when it smiled at her and the Davis woman and her angry actions spelled trouble with a capital T.

      Chapter 2 One PP calling

      After overhearing the Davis woman’s phone call to someone high in the food chain of the police department, Abigaile knew to expect a chastising call from her captain any minute. She didn’t have to wait long. Within fifteen minutes, she was in the corridor, explaining to Captain Edmonds in nauseating detail every single step she’d made since the order to investigate the Davis woman’s complaint.

      Ms. Davis complained to headquarters that you upset her grandmother. Your actions caused her to have another episode, Lieutenant. Whatever that means. Did you do that?

      Christ Jesus! Abigaile exploded. What do you want me to say, Captain Edmonds? Yes, I drove the old woman crazy with my questions. Oh, by the way, she confessed to killing a man. She stuffed the old fart in her wall fifty years ago!

      Watch your tone, Lieutenant. You’re bordering on insubordination.

      Yes Sir! Abigaile sighed then lowered her voice. I lost it for minute, Sir, and I’m sorry. When she started shoving Vaughn Mercer at me, saying that he’d handle the case better than I could, I got pissed. Mercer’s been bugging…

      Hold it right there, Lieutenant. I don’t want to hear the rest of your sad hearts-and-flowers bullshit. The department selected you over Mercer. I went along with it. Don’t make me regret my decision. Get on with the investigation. Do it right this time, Lieutenant. I don’t want to get another call from Police Plaza on this shit. Nor do I want to read about this case in the papers. Am I making myself clear, Lieutenant?

      Yes, Sir. You’re crystal clear, Captain Edmonds.

      I’m glad we understand each other, Lieutenant Truman. Captain Edmonds exhaled heavily into the phone. Keep an eye on Mercer and Stevenson while you’re at it, Abby.

      Sir?

      Just do it, Lieutenant! I’m not at liberty to say more at this time. The captain cleared his throat. One more thing, Abby.

      Sir?

      Make nice with the Davis woman. You know, just soothe her edges a bit. You’re both women. Find some common ground, chat about recipes or something. I think she’s proven that she can be a dangerous person to have as an enemy. By the same token, she can be somebody real good to have in your corner when you need it.

      Yes, Sir, I will. Good-bye, Captain Edmonds. Abigaile frowned at the cell phone in her hand. She was speaking to a dead line. She’d love to unload a clip in that woman’s ass right now. What did Edmonds mean by keeping an eye on Mercer? How was she going to do that? Wouldn’t it seem like she was harassing somebody who’d lost his promotion to her? She knew Mercer was a fuckup when he wanted to be. What was Ronny into that she needed to watch him too? He was as honest as the day was long. If he wasn’t, she’d be the first to know it since she knew his secrets. She rubbed her temples gently. The headache wasn’t on the edges of her brain; the migraine jumped full force into the center of her head. It was doing a throbbing bump and grind as it moved into her right sinus cavity.

      How she wished she could see Regina Gamble tonight. Reggie could fix her tense muscles with one of her full body massages. Her headache would disappear in fifteen minutes and she’d be ready for anything else Reggie wanted to do with her body. She pinched her forearm hard. Oh wake up, Abby! The woman left you two years ago. She’s not coming back so get over it. That’s an order! Abigaile Truman straightened her shoulders and then adjusted her jacket to hide the holster under her armpit. She rang the doorbell.

      Jannita Davis peered through the peephole then uttered a disgusted sigh. Oh, it’s you. I thought you’d scurried off with your tail between your legs.

      Abigaile gave the woman a tight little smile and counted to ten. No, Ma’am. Us cops don’t run from danger. We run into it, handling the situation before it gets out of control. A nervous hand played with the first button on her jacket. May I speak with you for a moment in the hallway, Ms. Davis?

      Jannita mouthed another exasperated sound as she glared at her nemesis. What is it now, Lieutenant?

      Abigaile led the way down the corridor, away from the apartment’s front door.

      Did your captain order you to kiss my ass, Lieutenant Truman? Jannita asked with a confident air.

      Abigaile studied Jannita Davis’ triumphant grin before she answered. She decided to be honest with her antagonist. As a manner of fact, yes Ma’am, he did.

      Jannita stared at Abigaile’s face warily. She was surprised that the cop would admit to a tongue-lashing by a superior officer. What was her angle? Oh, what did he say?

      Abigaile cleared her throat to mutter something softly.

      Jannita’s eyes narrowed. Speak up, Lieutenant. I didn’t catch that.

      Abigaile looked over Jannita’s head. She felt silly repeating her captain’s words to the Davis woman. He said that I should try to find common ground with you since we’re both women. He suggested that we exchange recipes, Ma’am.

      Jannita allowed a small calculating smile that didn’t reach her eyes to come forward. Good! The big cop was embarrassed. A little humility was a good thing. I don’t think that we have anything else to talk about, Lieutenant. Do you?

      Abigaile shook her head in disapproval. I disagree, Ma’am. I think we do. I’m sorry about your grandmother. If I’d been told about her condition then I would have….

      Stop right there, Lieutenant! Jannita ordered with all the fury she could muster. Even a blind man could see there’s something wrong with an old woman who claims have stored a dead man in her closet along with her winter coats. Why don’t you just go back to that sterile ivory tower you work in and let Mercer or Stevenson handle the case? Isn’t that what you usually do, anyway? You let everybody else do your work, right?

      Abigaile frowned at her words. There was only one place she’d get that misinformation. It had to be Mercer who told her that crap. What the hell has Mercer been saying to you, Ms. Davis?

      Watch your mouth, Lieutenant, or I may have to report you to your superiors again. Jannita’s eyes narrowed. She drew closer to Abigaile, putting angry hands on her hips.

      Abigaile made a point of scanning the hallway to make sure they were alone before she moved closer to loom over Jannita Davis. Oh you think so, Ms. Davis? Do you think it’s wise to threaten a police officer like that? She drew even closer, completely invading the Davis woman’s private space. Well, do you?

      Ron Stevenson poked his head outside. His glance took in Jannita Davis’ angry glare and her dangerously close proximity to Abby. He also noted the reckless fury in Abby’s eyes. That wasn’t good sign. He decided to step outside and then pull the front door closed behind him. Is everything okay out here, Lieutenant Truman … Ms. Davis?

      Yes…it is now, Detective Stevenson. Your lieutenant was just about to leave. Weren’t you, Lieutenant Truman? Jannita purred at Ron and then turned to cut furious eyes at Abigaile.

      Abigaile threw her hands up in the air in disgust and then muttered, Take over, Stevenson. You’re the lead on this one anyway. I’ll see you back at the house. Call me if you find anything.

      Detective Stevenson and Jannita Davis watched Abigaile stride down the hallway to the stairs. They could hear her taking the stairs two at a time, then the distant sound of a door slamming several minutes later.

      Detective Stevenson, may I take my grandmother home with me or is she still a suspect?

      She can go with you, Ms. Davis, Ron replied, neatly sidestepping her second question. We wouldn’t think of keeping you two at the scene longer than needed. You can pack a small bag for her. I only ask that you stay away from the closet. He hesitated before adding, If you give me a list of what you need, I’ll see that one of the technicians gets the items for you.

      Jannita touched his arm as she stared in the direction of the lieutenant’s recent exit. "Thank you so much.

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