Blood Ties (2 page)

“Miss Andrews’ address and phone book are currently listed as evidence, Miss Pearson. We’ll
release them once the investigation concludes; I’ll let you know when that happens.”

“But I need to contact people.
”

“Call her office; her assistant will be pleased to help you. I’m sorry but that’s the best we can do for the time being; you’ve got to understand, solving the investigation is our priority.”

“Of course, but…” I sighed. “Was she raped?”

Detective Davies looked around and
shook his head. His face turned stern. “Keep that to yourself. If you think about anything that may help us, let me now,” he said as he got a card from his shirt pocket and handed it over to me. “The body won’t be released for a couple more days, so I suggest you hold a memorial and have a cremation or burial later on.”

“Susie would have wanted a cremation. I’ll arrange to have a meeting at home or something like that.”

I turned slightly pink as I realized he couldn’t have cared any less. I hated that he made me blush, given the circumstances. The elevator opened and I got in. The detective pressed the button for me and, as the doors closed, I remembered the handkerchief; but I was already on my way down, so I shrugged it off and thought I’d return it on another occasion.

I drove to Susie’s
workplace. Sandy, roundish, tall, blue-eyed and with dark brown hair always kept in a simple ponytail, Susie’s assistant, took me to her office. The police had been there overnight, and the place was a bit of a mess.

“How are you doing
, Sandy?” I asked as we sat on the couch in Susie’s office.

The room was huge; a big, beautiful wooden desk and full library behind it, a computer with a flat screen (she also had a laptop, but the police currently kept it as evidence), three couches and a coffee table, and antique chairs that somehow managed to be both stunning and snug.

Not many twenty-eight-year-olds had such offices, but the senior partners in the firm, Annabel James and Peter Walker, knew Susie was worth it. She’d never lost a case once she’d stepped into a courthouse. She’d built herself a reputation that had some of the opposing lawyers suggest their clients to give in to the demands during mediations, knowing they’d lose if they went to trial.

Sandy poured me a cup of black coffee as well as one for herself. I nodded, thanking her and rousing her to talk.
She stammered at first, but finally managed to speak.

“It’s such a shock! The police called me last night; actually, this morning. After talking with Annabel and Peter, I was asked to come here to let them in and tell them where Susan’s things were. They asked me a few questions, but it still hasn’t really sunk in.”

“I know what you mean, Sandy.”

“She was my mentor, Samantha. She taught me many things and guided me professionally. She kept me in line, showed me I had to be respectful to everyone I don’t consider a friend. She was amazing to me when I broke up wi
th my boyfriend…It’s just simply unbelievable,” Sandy finished, bursting into sobs.

I moved to her side and hugged her, trying to ease her out of her sadness.

“It’s okay, Sandy, she loved you very much, too. The mere fact that Susie kept you as her assistant for over a whole year shows she was really happy with how you worked for her.”

“I did my best,” Sandy said as she nodded through tears. “She’d probably get mad at me for crying in the office. She said never to show the human face on the professional place.”

“That was her, but she would have made an exception today.”

We remained seated for a few more minutes, Sandy sobbing and me patting her back quietly. After she was done, I asked for an address book that could help me get in touch with everyone she knew so that I could organize the memorial. Sandy complied
, emailed me a digital copy and let me know she’d be glad to help me out in any way she could. I thanked her and took off.

I drove home with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Susie had been murdered, but I couldn’t think of a single person who could have done it. Reasons
to be angry—there were plenty, but none worthy of murder.

After parking the car in the garage, I rode the elevator to my apartment, still rummaging motives for killing Susie. I found a package waiting for me and picked it up, surprised. The card was addressed to me, but there wasn’t a sender’s name on it.

I got into my place, locked the door behind me, and left the present on the dining-room table. I went to my room and grabbed the phone. I made reservations at an art gallery Susie loved, so the intimate gathering would take place there on Wednesday. I called a printer I knew due to my job and asked my contact to print a large photo of Susie and to send it, framed, to my house on Tuesday at the latest. I assured him I’d pay him double the fee, and he happily complied. I sent him a digital copy of the photo from my laptop. As I flipped through the pictures, I got weary and wistful, and decided to take another shower.

As the hot water
poured over me and had a relaxing effect on me, I heard a bang. Completely freaked out, I closed the faucets; I grabbed the towel and covered myself with it, opened the door and crawled out of the bathroom into the hallway. I smelled wood burning from the dining-room, so I crawled over there. I stared, scared, at the table. It was half burnt, and a huge part was missing—the part where I’d placed the present on.

I jumped back on my feet and ran to get the fire-extinguisher I keep by the door
—even if there were no apparent flames, I didn’t want to risk any erupting spontaneously or sparks setting my apartment ablaze.

Once most of my dining-room was covered in foam, I went to my bedroom
, got my cell phone and the card Detective Davies had given me, and called him, my hands shaking as I dialed.

The doorbell rang and, as I waited for the detective to pick up, I peeped and saw the
concierge on the other side. After I hang up, due to the detective ignoring my call, I unlocked the door and cracked it open.

“Yes, Mr. Jenkins, how may I help you?” I asked, trying to sound as natural and calm as possible.

“A loud sound was heard and Daniel, your neighbor downstairs, said it came from here. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, everything’s absolutely fine. A slight cooking mishap
—you can probably smell it! Don’t worry, it’s under control now,” I replied, smiling tightly.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive!”

“Very well then, just give me a call if you need anything Miss Pearson, okay?”

“Will do,” I replied as I closed and locked the door.

I called Detective Davies again but still got no answer. I paced around my room, put on some clothes, and sat on my bed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone but Detective Davies; my intuition said this situation had something to do with Susie’s murder.

Ten seconds went by and my cell phone finally rang. I flipped it open and took it to my ear.

“Detective Davies?” I asked, fear
blatant in my voice.

“Yes…
Miss Pearson? Is everything all right?”

“There was a package, and I went to take a shower and it went off, like a bomb.”

“Are there any other new devices in your place or any more packages?”

“No.”

“I’ll be there immediately. Stay put, don’t pick up the phone, and stay away from windows. Unless it’s me ringing the doorbell, you open the door to absolutely no one.”

I hung up. I
changed into slacks and a t-shirt, sat on my bed, and waited.

Fifteen
minutes later the doorbell rang. I ran to the door, and after checking through the peephole, let Detective Davies in.

“Miss Pearson, are you okay?”

I nodded as I led him into the dining-room.

“I used the fire extinguisher to avert the possibility of a fire, but otherwise, I didn’t alter the scene.”

“Was there an initial fire?”

“I don’t know. I was taking a bath and heard a bang. Half the table was completely gone and there was black smoke.”

“Okay. A bomb-specialist will be here shortly. She’ll be able to tell us what’s happened, though I assume it was a short range home-made bomb. I’m afraid this could be related to Miss Andrews’ murder. I’d like to get you a police escort.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’ve got a life to lead; I can’t go running around wit
h a policeman trailing after me. I value my safety and I’ll be extra-careful, but what you’re suggesting is a bit over the top.”

“I was thinking along the lines of someone who could go undercover. Whoever killed your friend knew her and I suspect whoever it was also knows you. Now we not only have to solve Miss Andrews’ investigation, but we also have to protect you. I understand you want to live your life as usual, but I won’t let you become a sitting duck.”

What Detective Davies said sank in and I sighed. I considered my options: doing absolutely nothing and possibly getting another package, leaving my life, or accepting the detective’s suggestion. I nodded, albeit reluctantly.

“Who did you have in mind?” I asked.

“I wanted it to be me but unfortunately, anyone could have seen us this morning or could know I’m a detective here. I’m not a very trusting human being, so I asked my brother to step in. He’s a detective in New York; I had to pull in some favors to have him transferred here, but I managed to do so. He’ll be arriving tonight. Until then, I’m staying by your side.”

“Okay. When did you make the arrangements?”

“On my way over here.”

“That was fast,” I said, sounding surprised and with appraisal.

“I am good at talking people into giving me what I want,” there was a trace of teasing in his voice. “Anyway, what were you up to before you took the shower?” Detective Davies enquired as he motioned for me to guide him around my place.

I walked to my bedroom.

“I was putting in phone calls to arrange for a memorial for Wednesday.”

“Keep on doing that while I check the rest of the place, to make sure there are no
other surprises,” he said as he left my room.

I grabbed the addre
ss book Sandy had given me and started calling people to let them know about Susie’s demise. Most showed their concern, one muttered she had seen it coming, and a few cried. No one knew she had been murdered, and I refused to say it, but I could tell everyone assumed it.

Detective Davies showed up twenty minutes later, having cleared my apartment, and told me bomb-specialist Riley Graham was at the door. I let
the tall, slim, forty-odd years old brunette woman in and she went to work immediately.

My stomach started growling and I decided to have some lunch. Detective Davies joined me in the kitchen and checked before I used anything. He grew tired of my pulling stuff out of drawers and shelves, made me sit down and watch as he cooked a cheese and tomato omelet for me. I told him he should have one as well, seeing as how we were probably going to be stuck all day at my house, and he
did. I offered Riley one, but she’d had brunch. We ate quietly and looking at our food. It was very good, and I let the detective know it.

“Davies,” Riley said, popping her head through the door, “come here.”

He got up and I followed. Under the door-frame he turned around and looked at me sharply.

“You’re staying here.”

“No, I’m not. If this was an attempt to kill me, and I’m about to endure having your brother for protection, I want and deserve to know what’s going on.”

Detective Davies considered his options for a moment.
“You’re not going to do as I say, will you?”

I smiled and shook my head.

“Be quiet and listen. If you have any comments or questions to make, wait until we’re alone; understood?”

I nodded and he turned around; I followed him.

“It was a home-made bomb, with untraceable components. Whoever did it, knew what he or she was doing. It was set with a timer, so consider yourself incredibly lucky, Miss Pearson, that you weren’t standing nearby,” Riley explained.

“But wasn’t it too short
range? I mean, if someone wanted me dead, they could have built a larger range bomb and be assured I got caught by it.”

The specialist looked at the detective and he
shrugged. She wasn’t sure I should be there, and she doubted I should be told the details.

“It didn’t work as it was meant to. Even if it was correctly built, not enough powder was used to make it more, shall we say, effective. If whoever sent it only meant to scare you, it was rightly done. But, if he or she really intended to kill you, either the aggressor didn’t know how much powder to use, or hoped you’d be near enough for it to get to you.”

I nodded, understanding what she said. Detective Davies nodded as well and we looked at Riley expectantly.

“I’ll pick up the rest of the evidence and take it to the lab. If I learn anything further, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks Graham. And please, bear in mind–”

“This case is to remain as under the r
adar as possible, I know Davies,” she sighed, annoyed. She looked young was quite petit, which made me assume she was treated like a child more often than not. “I’ll process as much evidence as I can on my own and report only to you. If I can avoid asking for any sort of assistance, trust me, I will.”

“Thank you Graham. And remember, if you run into my brother over the next few days, he’s not a cop, he’s a writer.”

“A writer?” I asked, intrigued as to why they’d chosen that profession.

“That’s how you two met.”

“And why would anyone care?”

Riley quietly returned to her work and decided to ignore us. Detective Davies led me to my bedroom.

“Because he’ll pose as your new boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s the easiest explanation for him being constantly around you; no one will question his presence if you two are an item. You can make up a nice cover story once he gets here, but what I’ve said are the basics.”

“Fine,” I said, though I wasn’t too fond of the idea.

Detective Davies paced around the room; he was quite impatient and found the idea of sitting down quietly bothersome. I continued making phone calls and he did the same, but walking around. It was a bit annoying.

About an hour later, Riley left. She’d basically cleaned my dining-room, but I proceeded to leave the place in order, minus the table.
I’m not that much of a neat-freak, but having ashes and foam over my chairs and covering the floor wasn’t fun for me. As I cleaned, Detective Davies helped out.

“Considering I’m going to become bait, don’t you think you should share some information regarding what you’ve found out so far? Besides, I could help you clear out suspects or something of sorts,” I said, trying to be as pleasant and convincing as possible.

Detective Davies rolled his eyes and I thought he looked adorable as he did it. Then I reprimanded myself for thinking this cold, unemotional detective was adorable.

“It was someone Miss Andrews knew
—the locks weren’t forced and she was found naked, which means the killer imposed him or herself in an intimate way on her, she got naked on her own, or the killer undressed her after she was murdered. No clothes were found nearby, nor a towel, so she wasn’t about to take a shower.”

“Poor Susie; I doubt she would have been having sex with anyone but Ray; they were having some trouble lately, but she wouldn’t h
ave cheated. How was she killed?”

“She was suffocated with a tie, probably the murderer’s. I’d be surprised if he or she has been reckless enough to leave DNA on it, but one can always hope…”

“Susie wore ties, so maybe it’s hers. And regarding the DNA, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

“There were no traces of semen but there were stretch-marks, which indicate she had intercourse.
Could have been the boyfriend or the killer. Either way, a condom was used.”

I nodded and sighed. I hated feeling that this was a case to be solved, when I should be mourning my friend.

I was thinking about more questions to ask when the doorbell rang. Both Detective Davies and I walked to the door. He gazed through the peephole and opened the door. I was startled to find a man, barely shorter, with the same hair, green eyes and a slightly bigger mouth than Detective Davies’, walk in. He looked at me and bowed his head as a greeting, and then he hugged his brother. A huge smile spread across his face and I felt a tinkle in my stomach. His eyes shone and he was clearly the more playful and immature of the two.

“Excuse my brother, Miss Pearson; we haven’t seen each other in about a month, and he’s obviously emotional about it.”

“That’s okay. I’m Samantha Pearson, but you can call me Sam,” I said as I stretched my hand.

“I’m
Jared Davies, Sam, it’s lovely to meet you,” he said as he shook my hand; he had long, strong, firm fingers. “I guess you can call me Jared, seeing as how we’re together.”

His eyes sparkled and I couldn’t help but
snort. I thought I heard Aidan grunt, but if he did, we ignored it.

The three of us went to the kitchen, where I prepared some coffee and we went over the basics of the case.
Jared was already fully informed, and he said it would be better for us to go over our cover story. Aidan decided to take this as his exit sign, and he took off.

“So, tell me about yourself, Sam. At least, the stuff I should know considering we’ve been dating o
ver the past…two months?”

I considered that time and nodded. I hadn’t dated anyone
—or slept with—in over six months, and the few relationships I’ve been in had remained under the radar until after the third month, so it would make sense if Jared and I had been together for two months.

“I work as a book editor.
I’m an executive editor at Orchid Books. I’m twenty-eight years old, but I’ll be twenty-nine in two months, on April 6
th
. I’ve got an elder brother, Noel, and a younger sister, Kelly. Noel’s thirty and Kelly’s twenty-three. My mom, Sara, remarried after my dad died ten years ago, and Rod, my stepdad, is great. I’ve been working as an editor for the last six years, after getting my BA in English from Memphis University, and I started as an assistant but worked my way up to my current position.”

“How did you know Susan?”

“We’ve been best friends since kindergarten. Even when she studied Law at Cecil C. Humphreys School of Law, we’d get together once a week for lunch or dinner, and if either of us travelled, we’d send each other e-mails or postcards, or we’d call.”

My throat turned into a knot and I had to fight back tears. I swallowed and
Jared placed his hand on mine, soothingly. I could see now, where Aidan was cold and insensitive, Jared was warm and feeling. Sense and Sensibility flashed into my mind, and I smiled softly.

“If you don’t mind my asking so bluntly about it, how can you keep this apartment? I mean, unless you discovered J.K. Rowling...”

“When I was younger, twenty-two, I fell in love with a stockbroker. You could say he’s the only real relationship I’ve been in,” I said, feeling a pang.

“And what happened?”

I took a deep breath in and remembered.

“Caleb was four years older than me, and we were mad for each other. We met at a party and eight months later, we were engaged. Our families weren’t ecstatic, but they realized there was no way of talking us out of it. Two weeks before the wedding, Caleb was walking by a drugstore that was being robbed, and he got shot as the thieves escaped. He died. I was devastated, but I submerged in
to my work and found an outlet for the pain I felt through cooking, so I took some classes to keep myself busy. Susie did her best to help me fill the void, but it’s something I’m still carrying,” I took a deep breath. “Anyway, Caleb had drawn a will and left me his apartment. After a week of staying in it, I realized it hurt too much; it was the life I no longer had, and there was no way I could get it back. So, I talked it over with his parents and they bought it from me. I found this place and found it was where I felt most at ease.”

“I’m so sorry for you
, Sam. Aidan hadn’t told me anything about it.”

“That’s okay
Jared, I hadn’t told him and even if I’ve grown used to Caleb’s absence, it’s not something I find myself talking much about.”

“Then talk to me about pets.”

I smiled at Jared’s attempt (and success) at easing the sadness I’d just felt by recalling my life with Caleb.

“One dog when I was about ten. He was called Paw. My sister had decided the name.”