Chief Ferrier shook his head, the red lines along his neck turning crimson. “Just keep at it. I sure don’t need Old Man Alvanetti demanding justice. We all know how that’ll turn out.”
“I’ll handle that,” Blain replied. The chief had never caved underneath the Alvanetti juggernaut but he wasn’t too thrilled to have to stand in the way of that juggernaut either. Up until now, things had been pretty quiet on that front. “I’m going back out to the house to question Regina Alvanetti later today.”
The chief scrubbed a hand down his always-a-day-behind-beard stubble. “Be careful about that. You know how things tend to go out at that place.”
“I’m always careful,” Blain said. And he wasn’t afraid of the Alvanetti clan. Rikki owed him and he intended to cash in on that debt. Plus, he had one furry, demanding cat to deliver.
Chief Ferrier grunted at that confident retort. “Careful is one thing, son. But being smart is important, too.”
After the chief went back to his office, Blain jotted a list of all the variables on this case. The victim resembled Regina—Rikki—Alvanetti. They’d been best friends. Rikki had a hostile ex-boyfriend named Chad Presley but he hadn’t been located yet. The Tallahassee authorities called to let Blain know they had talked to Tessa Jones’s boyfriend and his alibi was solid. That left Chad Presley.
Nothing of importance had been taken from the town house and there was no sign of forced entry. Blain decided this was looking more like a professional hit than a crime of passion.
Had Tessa known her murderer? What did the “K” written in blood mean? Was it an initial or had the poor woman just been grasping at the floor, trying to get up? He’d have to wait for the ballistics report and lab work to come back on the autopsy from the state lab in Tallahassee. But while he waited, Blain intended to keep plugging away, trying to find the truth.
He thought about Rikki Alvanetti. Lush and exotic, much in the same way as that imposing home and the dubious lifestyle she had tried so hard to deny. She had grown up privileged and entitled in a world that most plain folks only dreamed about.
That was about to change. Blain wouldn’t let her big brown eyes or her tragic demeanor fool him. He’d ignore the tickle of awareness her spice-scented perfume caused in his system and he’d certainly ignore those black boots she wore with such an easy, classy sway.
Blain could be tenacious when he was on a case and this one was a doozy. He’d already had calls from several television stations and most of the local and regional papers, all wanting to interview him regarding the Tessa Jones murder—and how it might be connected to the mighty Alvanetti family.
“No comment.”
He couldn’t talk about an active case. He’d let the people in the mayor’s PR department give out the talking points. He’d rather get out and beat the bushes to find out the truth.
He had to wonder if Rikki knew more than she was telling him. His trust meter on her had gone down, way down, when she’d taken him to the Alvanetti estate. Even more when he’d realized she was one of them.
He was about to head out there to confront her one more time when his cell rang.
Preacher.
“Hey,” he said into the phone as he grabbed his leather jacket and walked toward the front door of the small police building right across from the county courthouse. “What’s happening, Preacher?”
Rory Sanderson’s laugh rolled out on a low wave. “You tell me. I’m thinking you’re up to your eyeballs on this murder that happened last night.”
“You got that right,” Blain said. He stopped in the parking lot, near his car. “I guess I’ll be the hot topic at pizza night, right?”
Blain and his three buddies always met once a week for pizza and watching sports on the popular Back Bay Pizza House.
“We’re all waiting for Thursday at seven o’clock to come,” Rory replied. “I just called to tell you if things get crazy—”
“You will pray for me, right?”
“Oh, I do that, anyway,” the always cheerful minister replied. “I mean, if this case gets as in-depth as I think it will, you’ll need someone to listen to your rants.”
“I know you got my back,” Blain said, thanking God for his friends.
Rory Sanderson was the popular and much-loved minister at Millbrook Lake Church now, but he’d been a chaplain in the army just a few years ago. Another member of their group was Alec Caldwell, a former marine who’d been injured and had the scars to prove it, and was now a successful businessman living in one of the old Victorian houses along the lake. Even though he’d inherited a ton of money from his late mother, he was as laid-back and unassuming as any man could be since he’d met local bakery owner Marla Hamilton. They were getting married in two weeks and Blain was the best man.
Rory would officiate and who knew what their fourth man, Hunter Lawson, would do or if he’d even show up for the wedding. The Okie came and went like a shadow but he was slowly growing on all of them and he was a solid friend if need be. Blain might have to call Hunter since Hunter had gotten his PI license recently and was now available to work cases in the state of Florida.
“So I know you can’t talk about the case but...be careful out there,” Rory said. “This is a bit off the reservation for Millbrook.”
“Yeah, and don’t I know it,” Blain replied. “I’ll be careful. And smart.”
“I’ll see you soon,” Rory said.
Blain hit End and turned to unlock his car. Then he noticed he had a flat tire. “What?”
He bent to examine the tire. He’d just had the vehicle serviced, courtesy of the Millbrook Police Department since it was a departmental vehicle. The mechanics had suggested new tires so he’d had those put on, too.
Now this. Blain studied the tire and noticed something odd. A slash mark cutting deep into the still-new tread.
Suddenly, he wasn’t as worried about how the department’s money had gone to waste on these tires as he was about how someone had obviously slashed this tire in broad daylight.
Blain heaved an aggravated sigh and stood up to check his surroundings, thinking he’d just gotten his first hint on how things would go with an investigation involving an Alvanetti.
Or maybe, his first warning from a killer.
* * *
Rikki sat holding her mother’s frail hand.
Sonia was sleeping, which was a surprise in itself. Her mother used to rise with the dawn because she had to see the sun cresting out over the water to the east. She’d make herself a strong cup of coffee and stroll down to the dock so she could be as close to the water as possible to watch the sunrise.
“Isn’t that amazing?” she’d say to anyone who might want to venture down with her at the crack of dawn. “God’s world is so full of joy and beauty. That same sun that shines on us each day covers the entire earth with warmth. That sun shines on all of us,
