In that house, there was not a picture of Catherine Reed anywhere to be found.”
“Reed, it’s been five years.”
He leaned closer. “I’ve thought about it. But wouldn’t it make sense that some trace, some memento of his dead wife, of their time together would be around? I mean he played the grieving husband to the hilt at the funeral and trial.”
“Why do you find that so unusual?”
“When my mother died, my dad kept her pictures all over that house until he passed away three years later.”
She frowned. “But Andrew’s case is different. Because of the heinousness of the crime, I wouldn’t expect him to have pictures of her around. Just like a divorced couple, I wouldn’t expect either partner to have things around to remind them of their ex.”
He didn’t respond and Kelly’s nerves were on alert. Had he—? She swallowed hard. “Maybe there’s something there you didn’t know about. A piece of furniture or picture, something that you wouldn’t know about.”
Mark showed up with the burger and onion rings. He winked at them. “Never thought I’d see you two again, sitting with each other.”
Kelly’s eyes widened.
“We’re working on a case, Mark,” Ash explained.
“Oh, is that what those vibes were I felt coming from here? Hey, maybe I should get into police work.”
This was the second time within a week that someone had commented on them being together. She stared down at her burger. Confusion rumbled around her head. What was going on?
“The point I’m trying to make, Kelly, is that Andrew’s neighbors said that within weeks of the murder, he had someone come in and redo the entire house. Nothing of Catherine remains.”
She took a bite of her burger and thought. “Still, Ash, it’s not that unusual a response to a death. A violent death.”
“Well, you wanted my gut reaction in this case. There it is. Also, this fiancée is the second one he’s had since his wife died. The society woman he was seeing while Catherine was alive expected to be the next Mrs. Reed. She was very shocked when Andrew dumped her.”
“Ash, I wish I could charge Andrew Reed with being a louse, but we generally don’t prosecute things like that. If we did, I’d have to charge over half the male population of the city with it.”
“When I interviewed the neighbors, I got a picture of a couple that fought frequently. Loud. Yelling and slamming of doors going in and out of their house. I also discovered Mr. Reed liked to spend money. And his business wasn’t doing well.”
Kelly lost her appetite. She pushed away her plate. “Why didn’t Ralph Lee come up with this evidence?”
“Because he conveniently had a suspect that had confessed.”
“You’re going to need to go back and talk to Steve Carlson, again.”
“You want to go with me?”
“Yes, that way no one can accuse you of being biased if I’m there to watch and record the interview.”
“Let’s do it now.”
There wasn’t a reason on earth they couldn’t do it tonight. Except it meant spending more time with Ash, at night, surrounded by darkness and breeding an air of intimacy. “All right, I’ll follow you to his apartment.”
“Don’t trust my driving, Kelly?”
“When the interview is finished, I can go home. It’s got nothing to do with your driving.”
And it had nothing to do with spending time in a car with him. Nothing at all.
When they arrived at the apartment building where Steve Carlson lived, they parked in the dimly lit lot. Several people stared at them as they walked up the outside stairs to the second-floor apartment. Ash knocked. There was no response.
“He’s there,” a little girl told them as she moved away from the door of her second-floor apartment.
Kelly smiled at the child. “How do you know?”
“I saw him let another man inside. Then they started to yell. Later, the man came out, but the other man didn’t.” She shrugged, then started to jump rope.
Ash looked at Kelly. “You think I’ve got reasonable doubt that something’s wrong?”
“I do. See if the door’s open.”
Ash drew his gun, then tried the knob. The door opened easily. They walked into the small apartment. There was no sign of anyone in the living room. The kitchen and dining area were empty. And neat. In the bedroom they found Steve Carlson, lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, a bullet hole in his right temple. A gun lay inches from his hand.
Ash looked at Kelly. “Why do I get the feeling this case has taken another ugly turn?”
“That’s because I doubt Steve Carlson killed himself.”
“Which means that someone wanted to shut him up.”
“Or, Ash, maybe someone wanted our investigation stopped. With Carlson’s death, that would be the logical assumption.”
“But you’re not going to quit, are you, Kelly?”
She looked back at the body, then at him. “Give me a reason to continue, Ash. Give me the evidence I need.”
“All right, I will.”
Chapter 4
Kelly stepped back against the kitchen counter and watched the police evidence team work the scene. Ash stood inside the bedroom door, carefully observing the activity. He glanced at her, and they both knew the trouble they were facing.
A commotion outside the front door drew Kelly’s attention, and she saw the news reporter.
“You can’t go in there,” Kelly heard the officer tell the woman.
“I want to interview someone in charge about this murder. It’s big news.” The young woman looked into the apartment. She caught a glimpse of Kelly. Unfortunately, Kelly knew her.
“Ms. Whalen, can you tell me what’s going on here? Isn’t this the man who was just released from prison, Steve Carlson? And why are you here?”
Kelly didn’t want to talk to the eager-beaver reporter, but had discovered the hard way the more you tried to dodge the press, the more they pursued you. She walked to the front door. “Hello, Amber. I accompanied one of the detectives here.” Kelly didn’t mention she and Ash were the ones who had found the body.
“Is Steve Carlson dead?” Amber shoved the microphone in Kelly’s face and the cameraman behind her started taping.
It was better for the situation if Kelly gave the reporter a minimum of
