planned, sweetie.”
“Oh. Well, anyway, what’s done is done. I’ll see you at twelve thirty, okay?”
“Okay. And Jane, are you and Aspen planning on seeing each other more often? What are her expectations now that you’ve slept together?” There was no response from Jane’s end, and Ari realized the list of potential orchid-senders could be growing. “Look, you don’t have to answer that. I’ll see you in a while.”
She hung up, hoping Jane was learning that her casual attitude about sex was probably at the heart of this problem. Sometimes she could be so blind, caught up in the easy world of pleasure. And not to recognize that she’d been set up was disturbing. For someone as experienced as Jane, her naïveté about the conniving demeanor of women was surprising, but then, Jane was exactly the opposite. There were never any hidden agendas or head games. She saw what she liked and took it. If she wanted to spend the night with a woman, she propositioned her, and she was always honest about her unwillingness to commit. Still, if Aspen Harper wanted Jane, how far would she go to have her?
Chapter Nine
Sunday, October 15th
10:10 AM
Sundays were always busy at Sky Harbor International Airport, particularly Terminal Four, where US Airways and Southwest Airlines shuttled all of the Zonies from Phoenix to Las Vegas or California destinations. The parking garage was full, all of the weekend vacationers still enjoying the San Diego weather or playing the slots on the Vegas strip. Phoenix officers and FBI swarmed the area, and the poor beat cop assigned to crowd control had his hands full with some irate fliers who wanted their cars back. Molly and Andre flashed their badges and ducked under the tape, watching the crime scene personnel assess the situation.
Connie Rasp stood with the medical examiner, past the open trunk of a dark blue Hyundai Sonata. Molly avoided the car, unsure of what she would see, and instead joined Rasp. “Detectives Nelson and Williams, I assume you know Dr. Haynes?”
“Good to see you again, detectives,” Dr. Haynes said.
Molly glanced at the balding man and nodded. It was certainly unusual to have an M.E. present at a crime scene, but the FBI involvement probably accounted for his presence. “Likewise,” Molly replied. She had worked several cases with Fred Haynes and found him to be highly competent and thorough. “So what happened?”
“The better question is what didn’t happen,” Rasp said. “Dudley Moon was shot, stabbed and beheaded. Somebody was definitely trying to make a point.”
Molly felt the guilt wrap around her, threatening to suffocate her. She should have insisted that she tail Itchy. She knew his habits, and he trusted her. That was part of his mistake, apparently.
“How long has he been dead?” Andre asked.
Fred Haynes narrowed his eyes and looked toward the trunk. “I’d say two days, but I’ll need to do a full autopsy first. Do you want to see the body before they remove it?”
Andre looked to Molly and she nodded slowly.
“Nelson, it’s okay to skip it,” Rasp said gently.
Molly could hear the kindness of her words, and she was sure Rasp noticed her reaction to Itchy’s death. Yet she didn’t want Rasp to think she was weak. “It’s no problem.” She went to the trunk, steeling herself for the worst, which until that moment had been the hanging of a small child by his meth-addicted father.
What she saw would stay with her for the rest of her life. Itchy’s beheaded body had been stuffed in the trunk, his head sandwiched between his legs, a clean bullet hole through his skull. His entire head was the color of an eggplant, and his mouth was open, as if he were trying to laugh. His face was bloated, but she could make out a distinct indentation on his left cheek. She pulled her gaze away from Itchy’s face—to the knife plunged through his heart. A piece of paper rested on his chest, the blade fastening the paper against him. In
“Oh. Well, anyway, what’s done is done. I’ll see you at twelve thirty, okay?”
“Okay. And Jane, are you and Aspen planning on seeing each other more often? What are her expectations now that you’ve slept together?” There was no response from Jane’s end, and Ari realized the list of potential orchid-senders could be growing. “Look, you don’t have to answer that. I’ll see you in a while.”
She hung up, hoping Jane was learning that her casual attitude about sex was probably at the heart of this problem. Sometimes she could be so blind, caught up in the easy world of pleasure. And not to recognize that she’d been set up was disturbing. For someone as experienced as Jane, her naïveté about the conniving demeanor of women was surprising, but then, Jane was exactly the opposite. There were never any hidden agendas or head games. She saw what she liked and took it. If she wanted to spend the night with a woman, she propositioned her, and she was always honest about her unwillingness to commit. Still, if Aspen Harper wanted Jane, how far would she go to have her?
Chapter Nine
Sunday, October 15th
10:10 AM
Sundays were always busy at Sky Harbor International Airport, particularly Terminal Four, where US Airways and Southwest Airlines shuttled all of the Zonies from Phoenix to Las Vegas or California destinations. The parking garage was full, all of the weekend vacationers still enjoying the San Diego weather or playing the slots on the Vegas strip. Phoenix officers and FBI swarmed the area, and the poor beat cop assigned to crowd control had his hands full with some irate fliers who wanted their cars back. Molly and Andre flashed their badges and ducked under the tape, watching the crime scene personnel assess the situation.
Connie Rasp stood with the medical examiner, past the open trunk of a dark blue Hyundai Sonata. Molly avoided the car, unsure of what she would see, and instead joined Rasp. “Detectives Nelson and Williams, I assume you know Dr. Haynes?”
“Good to see you again, detectives,” Dr. Haynes said.
Molly glanced at the balding man and nodded. It was certainly unusual to have an M.E. present at a crime scene, but the FBI involvement probably accounted for his presence. “Likewise,” Molly replied. She had worked several cases with Fred Haynes and found him to be highly competent and thorough. “So what happened?”
“The better question is what didn’t happen,” Rasp said. “Dudley Moon was shot, stabbed and beheaded. Somebody was definitely trying to make a point.”
Molly felt the guilt wrap around her, threatening to suffocate her. She should have insisted that she tail Itchy. She knew his habits, and he trusted her. That was part of his mistake, apparently.
“How long has he been dead?” Andre asked.
Fred Haynes narrowed his eyes and looked toward the trunk. “I’d say two days, but I’ll need to do a full autopsy first. Do you want to see the body before they remove it?”
Andre looked to Molly and she nodded slowly.
“Nelson, it’s okay to skip it,” Rasp said gently.
Molly could hear the kindness of her words, and she was sure Rasp noticed her reaction to Itchy’s death. Yet she didn’t want Rasp to think she was weak. “It’s no problem.” She went to the trunk, steeling herself for the worst, which until that moment had been the hanging of a small child by his meth-addicted father.
What she saw would stay with her for the rest of her life. Itchy’s beheaded body had been stuffed in the trunk, his head sandwiched between his legs, a clean bullet hole through his skull. His entire head was the color of an eggplant, and his mouth was open, as if he were trying to laugh. His face was bloated, but she could make out a distinct indentation on his left cheek. She pulled her gaze away from Itchy’s face—to the knife plunged through his heart. A piece of paper rested on his chest, the blade fastening the paper against him. In
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