Blown Away by Shane Gericke Page A

Branch warned. “Sometimes they don’t.”
    Benedetti wagged a finger north. “A team is searching Lucy’s town house. So let’s discuss our next problem.” He thumped the Porsche’s macerated hood. “These wheels were borrowed.”
    â€œStolen?” Emily said.
    â€œYeah. Last night, from the mall parking lot. Lady had primo taste in race cars.”
    Emily agreed. Leather galore, triple-digit horsepower, the deep polished silver, which looked so elegant on a powerful vehicle. But its racing days were over. Granite does not forgive its trespassers. “But why bother stealing a car?” she asked. “Lucy had one already—”
    â€œCommander!” shouted the grizzled deputy from the ditch.
    Benedetti squinted through the chain links. “Yeah?”
    â€œBoys just found the suicide note.”
    â€œExcellent! Where?”
    The deputy spoke into his cell phone, then back at Benedetti. “In an e-mail.”
    â€œChrist on a crutch, a cyber -cide?”
    â€œAppears so. The e-mail was in her computer at work.”
    Benedetti stared. “The engine place? Where I sent Luerchen?”
    The deputy grinned. “Sergeant Luerchen made dynamic entry into the building. The office computer was on, and the screen indicated e-mail. Sergeant Luerchen investigated.”
    Benedetti groaned like he’d stubbed his toe. “What’d he do?”
    â€œClicked on the mail folder. Saw the suicide note. It was written but not sent.”
    â€œGimme the Cliff’s version.”
    â€œâ€˜Hubby dumped me for a trophy wife, so I’m outta here. Tell my son I love him.’”
    Benedetti nodded. “OK. Thanks. Tell Luerchen, uh, good job.” Under his breath, “For a fat, lazy bastard who’d be pawing through Lucy’s panty drawers if I’d been retarded enough to send him to the town house.” Louder, to the deputy, “Call LAPD, ask ’em to confirm the ex’s alibi. Likewise Scotland Yard for sonny.”
    The deputy nodded. Benedetti turned back. “If that don’t beat all,” he complained. “Rayford Luerchen doing smart police work.”
    â€œWho’s Rayford Luerchen?” Emily said.
    Benedetti looked like he’d bitten into a worm. “Just the stupidest man I’ve ever met in my entire life,” he said. “He’s cocky, mean, and lazy, and the only badge he’s fit to wear says Mattel. He’s also the sheriff’s wife’s son from her first marriage, which makes him untouchable.” He shook his head. “I send him to the garage ’cause he can’t step on his dick there, and he goes and finds the suicide note that closes this case. I’ll probably have to give the jerk a commendation.” He made a little smirk at Emily. “Course, maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI hear you like ol’ Rayford.”
    Emily couldn’t imagine where that came from. Luerchen sounded like someone she’d just as soon shoot as talk to! “What do you mean, like him?”
    â€œWell, you know, that pet name you’ve got for him.” The smirk widened. “Doughboy?”
    The sergeant from the ditch! She looked around, didn’t see him, and felt her face flush hot with embarrassment. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
    â€œUs chiefs of detectives hear everything,” Benedetti said. “Don’t we, Branch?”
    Branch nodded. “Course, it helps that Ray’s deputies like him about as much as you do, and one of them ‘accidentally’ thumbed his radio so we could enjoy the show.”
    Emily shook her head. “Cops.”
    â€œCops,” Branch agreed. He looked at his watch and frowned. “Let’s finish up, Marty.”
    â€œYeah, I know you’ve got that meeting,” Benedetti said, slapping his notebook in his palm. “The