narrowed his eyes. For a little bit of a thing she had guts. Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed it, but the church was getting crowded. The EMTs were dealing with Father Mike and Roman. He’d arranged for both of them to be transported to the new St. Jude’s Trauma Center, and he’d sent the first crime-scene team to the choir loft because he’d wanted a few minutes alone with this body. He’d called his captain, and D.C. Parker would want a full report as soon as he disentangled himself from some big charity ball he was attending.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“You know, you don’t look like a cop. Those clothes are a bit casual even for a dress-down Friday. Do policemen even have casual-dress days?” She lowered one of her hands and held it out to him, palm up. “Show me some ID.”
Nik swept his gaze over her. “If you’re not going to tell me your name, maybe I’ll just call you Pipsqueak.”
It gave him some satisfaction when she narrowed her eyes and her foot began to tap. She couldn’t be more than five foot two, but her stance radiated enough attitude for a woman twice her size. She had her hair twisted up on her head, but a few red curls had escaped. Her ruffled front white shirt was tucked into black pants that showcased surprisingly long legs. His gaze lingered on them a moment before he shifted his attention back to her face. That was when he noticed the eyes. They were green and direct, and for a moment he saw nothing else.
“Well? How about it? You do carry ID, don’t you?”
Annoyance and something else moved through Nik as he forced himself to blink and break eye contact. Then he gave her his cop smile, the one his partner Dinah said looked like a sneer. “Dream on, Pipsqueak. Let me make this as clear as possible. I not only ask the questions, I give the orders. Turn around, put your hands flat against the door of the cupboard, and spread your legs.”
There was a beat before she did what he asked, and he couldn’t prevent the ripple of admiration that moved through him. He’d always been a bit of a sucker for a woman with guts. Nik was halfway through patting her down when he realized that he’d made a huge mistake. He had actually begun to enjoy the feel of those tight little muscles and soft curves beneath his palms. Dammit, he was a professional. This was a crime scene that needed his full attention.
The moment he straightened, she whirled to face him. In that second when their bodies brushed against each other, a blast of heat shot through him. What in hell—?
He took a quick step back, but he could tell by the way her green eyes darkened that she’d felt it, too.
“Who the hell are you?” he muttered, half to himself.
She lifted her chin. “I told you. I’m the caterer.”
“Detective Angelis?”
Nik recognized the voice of the young officer he’d left with Father Mike, but he kept his gaze on the redhead.
“Now, you know my name. What’s yours?”
“I’m J.C. Riley. I made the 911 call, and I want—”
He held up a hand to cut her off. “What is it, officer?”
“Sir, they’re about to take the priest away.”
Nik tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans, then grasped the redhead around the waist, lifted and plunked her on the counter. “Stay put.”
Following the officer out to the altar, he saw that the EMTs had loaded the priest onto a stretcher and that two officers were taping the area where the body had been. Another two crime-scene investigators stood on the altar steps. So much for his desire to quietly walk through the crime scene and think before his captain arrived.
Nik addressed his question to the medics. “How is he?”
“Unconscious, but stable. The bleeding has stopped.”
That was good news. “And the man in the vestibule?”
“Still unconscious. They won’t know how seriously he’s injured until they run tests.”
“I saw who shot Father Mike.”
Nik whirled and nearly brushed right up against the redhead again. He scowled at her. “I told you to stay put.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re a cop, shouldn’t you be asking me some more questions? I certainly have some for you. Are the bride and the groom all right? I heard some shots from farther away—maybe from up in that choir loft. And what about Roman Oliver?”
Nik frowned. “What’s your connection to Roman Oliver?”
Before he could stop her, she slipped past him and nearly made it to the gurney the priest was on. Grabbing her arm firmly, he said, “Look, lady—”
“Is Roman Oliver dead, too?”
Nik clamped down on his temper. “No. He’ll be taken to the hospital. In the meantime, this is a crime scene, and since you think it’s my job to ask questions, try answering the one I just asked. What is your connection to Roman Oliver?”
“None. But I thought I recognized him. His picture’s been in the paper lately because of that big land deal. He came in the back way a short time after the groom arrived. At least, I assumed it was the groom. And someone used the name Roman while the fight was going on.”
“Fight?” Nik asked.
“Yeah. It was a doozey. I didn’t see it, but I could hear it from the dining room in the rectory. That’s where I was setting up the cake and the champagne. What about the bride and groom and the other woman, the blonde? Are they okay?”
Nik could feel his head beginning to spin. “The blonde?”
“She came in with the bride. She was carrying one of those big dress bags so I figured her for the maid of honor. I assumed the brunette was the bride because she was carrying the flowers and had a little crown of them on her head. Definitely bridal.”
“You’re sure that it was a blonde who came in with the bride?” The photo he’d seen of Sadie Oliver in the newspaper had been taken from a distance, but she’d had dark hair.
“I’m positive.”
“How tall was she?”
“Short. About my height. Are they all right? I think some of the shots came from the choir loft. Have you checked up there?”
When she tried to step past him again, Nik tightened his grip on her arm.
“I saw the groom running along the choir loft right after the first shots. Is he all right?”
Frowning, Nik pulled her into the sacristy. When the two crime-scene officers followed, he said, “When you’re finished with the body, see if you can find the bullets.” He gestured toward the shattered mirror and the splintered doorjamb. Then he glanced around and spotted a door that opened off the sacristy. It was small and narrow, its only purpose being to provide access to a staircase he assumed led to one of the lofts that edged the sides of the church.
But it had exactly what he
