Kate snorted a laugh. “I haven’t slept with him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Why not?”
Good question. “Because we need to solve Chrissy’s murder first. But if things work out, I intend to.”
“No kidding.” Cece took a long swallow of her drink and glanced back down at the picture. She fanned her face. “I’m getting a hot flash just thinking about it.”
Kate laughed. Cece always made her smile. “I’m really glad you stopped by.”
Cece leaned over and hugged her. “Me, too.” She took a drink of soda. “So fill me in on what’s been happening with the case. Especially the part where you’re going to end up in bed with Hawk Maddox.”
Kate found herself smiling again, a welcome change from the terrible sadness she had been feeling since she’d found out about her sister.
Kate told her about the visit to Mean Jack’s, the fistfight, and the creepy men she and Jason had been questioning. Her friend seemed fascinated but also worried.
“Investigating a murder...it’s got to be dangerous, Kate. Are you sure you shouldn’t let the police handle this? Or maybe this Maddox guy?”
“I need to be involved. I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”
“I hope you’re at least being careful.”
Kate didn’t mention her hooker outfit, or the guy who had slapped her and tried to drag her out of the bar. “Of course I am.”
They talked a little longer before Cece had to leave. She managed a restaurant called The Turtle, an upscale bar and grill where she worked a split shift.
As soon as her friend was gone, Kate went back to the plans she was making for Chrissy’s funeral in Rockdale.
The moment the phone was answered at the Rockdale Mortuary, any joy she had been feeling slipped away.
It was late afternoon when Jase walked into The Max. Mindy Stewart, their receptionist, stopped him as he passed on the way to his desk.
“A guy named Tommy Dieter has been calling you all afternoon, Jase. He says your phone goes straight to voice mail, and he needs to talk to you right away. I tried to call you myself, but I couldn’t get through, either.”
Jase pulled out his cell. He’d turned it off before they went up to see Preston Wells. He didn’t like to be interrupted during an interview, but he’d been so damned mad when he left, he’d forgotten to turn it back on.
“I’ll take care of it. Thanks, Mindy.” He checked his messages, saw a string of them from Tommy, punched the number and the kid picked up right away.
“Hawk, I got trouble,” Tommy said.
Any guy who ratted on rats for a living was asking for trouble. Apparently Tommy was just now figuring that out. “What’s going on?”
“Someone told Randy Harding I been keeping tabs on him. He’s coming after me, Hawk. I don’t know what to do.”
Tommy was over twenty-one, but still just a kid and not the brightest bulb on the string. “Come on down to my office. I’ll stake you enough to get out of town. You need to lie low for a while, till I can get Harding off the street. Once he’s in jail, you should be okay.”
“Thanks, Hawk. I won’t forget this. I owe you. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
The call ended and Jase went back to work. He phoned Detective Benson, who verified Preston Wells’s alibi. Benson hadn’t spoken to Terry McCollom, or to Marco Bandini, the other name Tabby had come up with.
“From what you’re saying, doesn’t sound like McCollom’s our guy,” Benson said. “I’ll talk to him and Bandini, but unless the guy gives us something new, we’ve just about reached a dead end.”
It wasn’t good news, but it wasn’t a surprise. Benson had a stack of murder cases to solve, and the stack grew bigger every day. A dead prostitute wasn’t a top priority.
“I’ll let you know if anything turns up,” Jase said. If Benson didn’t come up with something, he’d talk to Bandini himself. He liked to get his own take on a suspect. And he didn’t trust Benson not to brush a possible lead under the carpet.
Time slipped past. Mindy left for the day, along with Chase and Bran and anyone who had plans for the evening. Jase and a PI named Jax Ryker were the only ones still working.
It was after seven when the front door swung open and Tommy Dieter rushed into the office. One of his eyes was black, his lip cut and bleeding, his plaid shirt torn and hanging open to expose his skinny white chest.
