An Intimate Murder (The Catherine O'Brien Series) by Stacy Verdick Case Page B
Authors: Stacy Verdick Case
Ads: Link
lap. “I’ll speak with Ms. Katts, when I have the time. The investigation comes first.”
Louise gave me a supportive smile.
Chief mulled over the proposal, knowing that my ground was shakier than a six-point-eight on the Richter scale. Either I accepted the Mayor’s proposal or I found a new job. What the chief was trying to decide was how long he could put the Mayor, and this Katts woman, off and still keep his job. He didn’t like bullies any more than I did, and he sure as hell didn’t like the press any more than I do.
I was gambling that the stubborn rebellious streak we shared would win out over his good judgment. Then I could fulfill the Mayor’s request and still keep a small shred of dignity by not immediately bowing to Jane Katts’ blackmail tactics.
A knowing grin split the chief’s face. “Agreed O’Brien. You’ll do the exclusive on your schedule only when it doesn’t conflict with the investigation.”
We shook hands.
The chief took a scrap of paper from his desk blotter and handed it to me.
“Here’s Jane Katts’ number, though I’m sure she’ll be in touch with you. The Mayor has already spoken to her.”
I stuffed the paper in my jacket pocket.
“What’s your next move, ladies?” he asked.
“Jonathan Luther’s office,” Louise said. “None of the Luther’s neighbor knew the family all that well. We’d like to talk to someone who might know who their friends were. Or if the Luther’s were involved in something that got them killed.”
I had to add my seven cents. “We’ll be checking out the murder of Chad Luther’s Grandmother as well. Maybe the local law enforcement uncovered something that might be pertinent to this investigation.”
That little nugget of information was one the press would not get. The last thing we needed was for Chad to see his Grandmother’s name splashed across newspapers, along with his parents, in a news story that made his family out to be the Corleones of Minnesota.
The Chief in his usual, graceful style issued the order, “get to work,” as a single-word bark.
When we stepped into the bullpen area, half of the office was watching with worried eyes. The other half cast surreptitious glances over their shoulders pretending not to be watching.
“Do you still believe the Grandmother’s death is connected?” Louise strode through the office, and ignored the questioning gazes.
We passed Shackelford whose brows rutted into a deep V. He followed me with his eyes as if trying to determine whether I was about to clean out my desk. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. I gave him a discreet thumbs-up and he grinned.
We gave each other a hard time but we both played on the same team, and neither of us held any real malice toward one another.
“What do we lose by asking about the Grandmother’s murder?”
“Time,” she said.
“One phone call, Louise. We’re not talking about driving to Duluth for God’s sake.”
“How about information that sends you on a wild goose chase?”
Louise opened her bottom desk drawer and pulled out her slim purse. I toed my purse out from its hiding place.
“That might be helpful in dealing with Jane Katts,” I said. “Maybe it would give her a project.”
“Speaking of.”
Louise fanned a stack of pink While You Were Out notes that someone had dropped on the top of the stack of papers in my In Basket , which no one ever used anyway. If they needed me to see something they just left whatever it was on my chair where I wouldn't mistake it as just one of the other ignored files that littered my desk.
I did a quick flick through the stack. Every single message was from Katts.
“Why didn’t she just leave a message on my voicemail?”
I glanced at my phone and noticed the red light above the abbreviation MSG blinked a rapid blink that meant more than one message. I lifted the hand set, pushed the message button and then when cued punched in my pin number.
Your mailbox is full . The sweet
Louise gave me a supportive smile.
Chief mulled over the proposal, knowing that my ground was shakier than a six-point-eight on the Richter scale. Either I accepted the Mayor’s proposal or I found a new job. What the chief was trying to decide was how long he could put the Mayor, and this Katts woman, off and still keep his job. He didn’t like bullies any more than I did, and he sure as hell didn’t like the press any more than I do.
I was gambling that the stubborn rebellious streak we shared would win out over his good judgment. Then I could fulfill the Mayor’s request and still keep a small shred of dignity by not immediately bowing to Jane Katts’ blackmail tactics.
A knowing grin split the chief’s face. “Agreed O’Brien. You’ll do the exclusive on your schedule only when it doesn’t conflict with the investigation.”
We shook hands.
The chief took a scrap of paper from his desk blotter and handed it to me.
“Here’s Jane Katts’ number, though I’m sure she’ll be in touch with you. The Mayor has already spoken to her.”
I stuffed the paper in my jacket pocket.
“What’s your next move, ladies?” he asked.
“Jonathan Luther’s office,” Louise said. “None of the Luther’s neighbor knew the family all that well. We’d like to talk to someone who might know who their friends were. Or if the Luther’s were involved in something that got them killed.”
I had to add my seven cents. “We’ll be checking out the murder of Chad Luther’s Grandmother as well. Maybe the local law enforcement uncovered something that might be pertinent to this investigation.”
That little nugget of information was one the press would not get. The last thing we needed was for Chad to see his Grandmother’s name splashed across newspapers, along with his parents, in a news story that made his family out to be the Corleones of Minnesota.
The Chief in his usual, graceful style issued the order, “get to work,” as a single-word bark.
When we stepped into the bullpen area, half of the office was watching with worried eyes. The other half cast surreptitious glances over their shoulders pretending not to be watching.
“Do you still believe the Grandmother’s death is connected?” Louise strode through the office, and ignored the questioning gazes.
We passed Shackelford whose brows rutted into a deep V. He followed me with his eyes as if trying to determine whether I was about to clean out my desk. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. I gave him a discreet thumbs-up and he grinned.
We gave each other a hard time but we both played on the same team, and neither of us held any real malice toward one another.
“What do we lose by asking about the Grandmother’s murder?”
“Time,” she said.
“One phone call, Louise. We’re not talking about driving to Duluth for God’s sake.”
“How about information that sends you on a wild goose chase?”
Louise opened her bottom desk drawer and pulled out her slim purse. I toed my purse out from its hiding place.
“That might be helpful in dealing with Jane Katts,” I said. “Maybe it would give her a project.”
“Speaking of.”
Louise fanned a stack of pink While You Were Out notes that someone had dropped on the top of the stack of papers in my In Basket , which no one ever used anyway. If they needed me to see something they just left whatever it was on my chair where I wouldn't mistake it as just one of the other ignored files that littered my desk.
I did a quick flick through the stack. Every single message was from Katts.
“Why didn’t she just leave a message on my voicemail?”
I glanced at my phone and noticed the red light above the abbreviation MSG blinked a rapid blink that meant more than one message. I lifted the hand set, pushed the message button and then when cued punched in my pin number.
Your mailbox is full . The sweet
Similar Books
