Horse of a Different Killer (21 page)

After Hugh left, I went to finish getting ready—a task consisting of brushing my teeth and putting on shoes. Back in the kitchen, I noticed Moss's water bowl was almost empty and had gone to the sink to rinse and fill it when there was a knock at the door.

The quick rapping of “Shave and a Haircut” was followed by the sound of the door opening and Wes calling out, “Grace?”

“Kitchen,” I answered.

He appeared a moment later.

Moss, knowing either from the knock or some doggy sixth sense that Wes had arrived, came trotting in to say hello and see if his friend had brought more wontons.

“You're a glutton for punishment,” I said to Moss.

Wes bent to give Moss a good pet and asked, “Are you hoping for a handout, huh?”

“Always.” I set the water bowl on the floor.

“Tell her, big guy. Say, ‘Mom, I'm sooooo hungry!' Tell her.”

Moss hungry
.

Nice try.

“I wasn't expecting to see you until I got to the jail,” I said to Wes.

He straightened, all playfulness gone. “I need to talk to you—” He was cut off by the sound of a fist pounding on the front door.

Moss echoed the enthusiastic knock with a trio of belly-barks.

Wes and I exchanged a look. “You expecting anyone?”

“You mean like the police? No.”

“Police?” he asked.

“Who else knocks like that?”

I followed Wes to the door, not surprised to see Boyle and two deputies when he opened it. Boyle, on the other hand, seemed caught off guard to see Wes.

She quickly covered her reaction and held up a piece of paper. “This is a warrant for all hardware, software, and digital storage media belonging to your sister,” Detective Boyle said.

“A warrant for what?” I looked up at Wes, hoping he would translate.

“They'll be taking Emma's computer stuff.”

“But they already have everything, except the iPad she just bought.”

“Not everything.” Boyle looked at me like I should know what she meant. I didn't.

Wes took the warrant and began reading over it. Everyone stood there looking at Wes. Just as things were getting awkward, he handed the warrant back to Boyle and said, “If you, or your deputies, take so much as a Kleenex from my client's home, I will move to have the search and seizure declared illegal and therefore inadmissible. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Boyle seemed unruffled by his warning.

I stepped back, expecting them to enter, but Wes moved to block the door. He turned to me and the look on his face told me it would be bad if they found what they were looking for.

“Grace, can you make sure Moss is out of the way?”

I nodded. Moss was standing next to me, and I grabbed his collar and walked him into the kitchen. A few moments later, Wes and the deputies passed. One of the cops started rifling through the living room. Wes followed the second officer as he turned down the hall leading to the bedrooms and home office.

Boyle, of course, came into the kitchen, where Moss and I were trying to stay out of the way, and started systematically going through each drawer.

Voodoo, startled by the strangers and noise of the search, came running into the kitchen to hide under Moss.

I told the kitten it was okay and after a few minutes, she crept out of the kitchen to watch the humans from a safe spot under the dining table.

As Boyle made it to where we stood near the island, Moss and I moved to the other side of the kitchen.

She searched each cabinet, the pantry, even opened the stove and microwave. From where I was in the kitchen, I could see the deputy had opened the entertainment center and was looking through the DVDs.

Boyle opened the fridge and started going through its drawers and when she moved on to the freezer I couldn't take it anymore.

“Help yourself to a Thin Mint while you're in there. We keep them next to the severed heads.”

The detective ignored me and finally let the door close with a
whomp
.

“We've catalogued all the items taken from your sister's office, car, and briefcase Sunday. We're missing something.”

“Oh?”

“It's something your sister mentioned to you.”

“When?”

“Sunday. She asked you to handle a party for her, didn't she?”

“Yes.”

Boyle looked at me expectantly.

“You're going to have to give me a better hint,” I told her.

“She told you about a file on her computer. She asked you to download it to a thumb drive and give it to her colleague.”

“Right.”

“Where is it?”

“I gave it to Kendall.”

“No, you didn't. We asked her.”

“Well, she's mistaken. I remember printing the file.”

“I'm not talking about the file, I'm talking about the thumb drive.”

She held up the warrant, as if that would help me understand what a thumb drive was.

Wes and the deputy he'd been shadowing approached from the hall. The officer shook his head, then held up a plastic evidence bag with a small black rectangle inside. “I found a USB stick, but it's not yellow.”

Yellow USB stick?

Oh hell.

A memory leapt into my head.

Sunday night. Jake and Boyle waiting outside as I rushed to find the file for the party and copy it to a USB stick. Moss nudging under my hand as I tried to plug the USB stick into my sister's computer. In a blur of yellow it had sailed into the kitchen and landed . . . somewhere.

It took all my willpower not to start scanning the kitchen floor to make sure it wasn't sitting out in plain sight. Thankfully, Voodoo chose that moment to come careening into the room, chasing her favorite toy, a ball with a little jingle bell inside.

With the kitten as an excuse to look down, I glanced at Voodoo then let my eyes slide furtively over the floor and along the base of the cabinets.

No sign of the USB stick.

Looking back at Detective Boyle, I said, “Listen, I admit to e-mailing a file from my sister's computer before you took it. I'm sure you saw that in her out-box. I left the original copy of the file on her desktop. It was a bunch of stuff pertaining to the party that night. Nothing nefarious.”

“And the USB drive she mentioned?”

“I couldn't find it. That's why I e-mailed the file.”

The second deputy stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, looked at Boyle, and shook his head. By some unspoken directive, both men turned and walked through the foyer and out the front door.

Voodoo bumped into my foot as she chased the ball and it rolled away to bounce off the bottom of the fridge.

In a flash of sudden, terrible clarity I knew where the USB stick was. I'd seen it, or rather part of it, a few nights before.

With deliberate effort, I pulled my gaze away from the base of the refrigerator.

Detective Boyle scrutinized me.

Don't look guilty
, I ordered myself.
And don't look at the fridge.

“You're sure you haven't seen it.”

“Yep.”

I tried to think about something else, but kept seeing the yellow USB stick in my mind's eye—spinning under the fridge. I focused on Boyle's face and had started counting freckles on her nose when I heard something slide across the floor. I glanced down at Voodoo and saw, with horror, that my kitten had abandoned her jingle ball and was focused on something under the fridge.

I realized too late that my thoughts had probably inspired the kitten to investigate the area.

Damn cats and their infernal curiosity.

Before I could think of a way to distract the kitten, Voodoo nudged the yellow USB stick out from under the fridge. In a heartbeat, it was batted across the marble tiles, clattering over the floor to bounce off the cabinet.

There was nothing I could do—the kitten was headed straight for us, pouncing and slap-shoving at the yellow rectangle in crazy kitten abandon.

The stick clattered between Moss's legs and I did the only thing I could think of.

Moss, sit!

I let him feel my urgency and, for once, he didn't try to bargain for a treat, but planted his furry rump on the floor.

Good boy!

Voodoo, whose attention span was only a little longer than a gnat's, lost interest and scampered off to get a drink of water from the freshly filled bowl.

“So.” I looked from Boyle to Wes. “Are we done?” I didn't wait for an answer. “Great. Wes will show you out.”

Boyle hesitated, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She swept her gaze around the room then reluctantly followed Wes to the front door.

As soon as I heard the door close, I peeked into the foyer and motioned to Wes to return to the kitchen.

“You're not going to believe this,” I said in an unnecessary whisper. Urging Moss to stand, I retrieved the USB stick from the floor. Wes had stopped at the entrance to the kitchen with his face angled away, eyes shut.

He held up both hands palms out and said, “Wait. Don't tell me.”

I curled my fingers around the USB stick and stuffed it into the back pocket of my jeans.

“Okay.”

Wes lowered his hands and looked at me.

“I don't want to know.”

“But—”

He held up a peremptory hand. “It would be unethical for me to tell you not to hand over something like that to the police. Point of fact, it would be unethical for me to know you have it in your possession. Do you understand?”

I nodded, then said, “One thing's bugging me. Hypothetically.”

Wes gave me an exasperated look, but didn't tell me to shut up, so I continued.

“Why does Boyle want the yellow USB stick? What does she think is on it?”

“In my humble opinion, she's interested in it because Emma asked you to get rid of it. It was the only thing Emma wanted out of the house before the police came to take her computer.”

“She didn't ask me to get rid of it, she asked me to give it to Kendall.”

“Which amounts to the same thing.”

“But, if I'd given it to Kendall, the cops would have just found her and gotten it anyway.”

“True. Unless Kendall would have known what to do with it.”

“What are you talking about, Wes?”

“I'm only suggesting Emma's intent may have been to keep it away from the police.” He glanced at his phone. “We are now very late. Come on, we'll talk in the car.”

“Uh, wait . . .” What was I supposed to do with the USB stick? I didn't want to take the very thing the police were looking for to a building crawling with cops. “Give me two seconds.”

With a perceptive nod, Wes headed outside.

I gave Moss a treat for his assistance, thought about dropping the USB stick in the box of doggy biscuits, and then decided to bury it in the junk drawer Boyle had taken extra time searching.

Grabbing my purse and phone, I hurried out the door.

“Now, tell me everything you know about this Kendall person.”

“She's a party planner, she works for the Ritz. Here”—I grabbed my phone from my purse—“I have her number.”

Wes entered it into his phone, then looked up, waiting for more information.

I shrugged. There wasn't much to say. Kendall knew and respected Emma and seemed happy to do her a favor. The young woman dealt with the pre-party chaos without batting an eye.

“Did she ask you about the phantom USB stick?”

“No. In fact, she hardly looked at the printout I gave her on the party.”

Wes considered that and I felt obligated to add, “Though that might have been because it came out magenta. The printer's out of the other colors.”

“Anything else?”

I shook my head, then remembered a tidbit. “She told me Emma helped her get a job in the business.”

“When was that?”

“I don't know. If skill is an indicator, I'd say a while ago. She was good. Reminded me a lot of Em.”