Authors: Dana Marie Bell
Dante glared at them suspiciously. “Something going on?”
Beth shook her head. “Mm-mm.”
Andi did the same. “Nope. Nothing to see here, Officer.”
Thank God Dante didn’t push, but his suspicious expression said it all.
They left the two girls in the parking lot of the restaurant and headed back to the campaign headquarters, but not before Andi made the universal sign for
call me
.
Chapter Five
Todd Blessing was a charismatic man of forty-five who knew he was destined for great things. He was currently doing his best to make sure that everyone around him, Dante included, knew it as well. He was a tall, massively built man, dark haired and dark eyed, who moved like an athlete. He was dressed in a conservative silver-gray business suit and crisp white shirt with a silver-gray tie. His brief welcoming smile revealed perfectly white teeth, with a small gap between the front two that should have made him appear human but instead seemed just as staged as the rest of him.
He spoke with a quiet, insincere tone that put Dante on edge. His face was gravely concerned when Dante and Elizabeth entered his office, turning down Mrs. Messinger’s offer of coffee.
Dante made sure he closed the door behind the secretary.
Blessing held out his hand to Dante. “How may I help you, Detective?” He shook Dante’s hand firmly and then turned to Beth. “Anything, anything at all I can do to help Jonathan through this, please let me know.”
“I’ll be sure to pass on the message, Mr. Blessing.” Elizabeth settled herself in a chair and flipped open her notebook.
Dante took the seat next to her and took out his own notebook. “I need to ask you a routine question, Mr. Blessing.”
Blessing nodded.
“Where were you on the afternoon Jennifer Blake was killed?”
“At a fundraiser that wound up ending early due to the storm. You can check with the people there. I’ll have my secretary get you a list.”
“What time did you leave the fundraiser?”
“About three in the afternoon. I went straight home. My wife will corroborate that.”
Dante made a note. He’d need to check the driving time between the location of the fundraiser and the murder scene. “We understand that you found out about Mrs. Blake’s death when you filed a police report the day after. Can you tell us anything about the robbery?”
Blessing appeared shocked. “You think the robbery had something to do with Jen’s death?”
Something about his reaction wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Blessing had his “concerned politician” face on, and Dante couldn’t quite get a reading off him. Normally, little things would give someone away. Most perps couldn’t keep still. Something always twitched when they lied, but all the usual tells were hidden behind a sleek facade Dante couldn’t quite penetrate. “We want to eliminate that possibility, of course. Can you tell me what happened?”
Dante tried to act cool and composed, but inside he was Snoopy dancing. Every instinct he had was screaming at him at the top of its lungs.
This guy had something to hide. One of his close friends was robbed and murdered, and he was acting like Dante had asked him about a fiscal budget issue.
Blessing sat back in his chair, obviously thinking. “Let’s see. I came into the office that day and noticed that my office had been broken into. I immediately contacted the police, who came and ran an investigation. I’m certain you have my statement on file, Detective.”
“The robbery is being handled as a separate case, Mr. Blessing. I wanted a fresh perspective on what was happening here around the time of Mrs. Blake’s murder and immediately afterward.” He’d have the file waiting for him on his desk when he checked in at the precinct, but until then he wanted to hear it in Blessing’s voice. He wanted to watch his facial expressions, his body language. The man was up to
something
, and Dante was going to find out what.
Too bad the Shem stench wasn’t nearly as thick in Blessing’s office. Dante would love to wrap this case up in a nice, neat bow, but it wasn’t to be. Blessing couldn’t be the Shem. If he was, the stench would be so thick Dante would be choking on it.
Blessing nodded, that false concern once more plastered all over his face. “Yes, of course. Of course.” He sighed deeply, and for just a moment Dante saw genuine grief. “You see, it’s still such a shock. Most of us here are still trying to get over the fact that Jen is gone.”
Dante nodded sympathetically, but this guy was not acting right. “I can understand that. Having a close friend of the family as well as a business associate die in such a way can be difficult to deal with. When was the last time you’d seen Mrs. Blake alive?”
Blessing’s flinch was almost imperceptible. “The day she was murdered. She left early for personal business. She laughed on her way out the door about the snow.” He smiled wistfully. “She said she’d rather be in the tropics.”
“She didn’t care for the snow?”
Blessing’s expression closed off again, becoming the plastic politician once more. “Not particularly. She always said she’d move someplace warmer one of these days.”
Dante nodded. “I’m not particularly fond of the snow myself.” He flipped to a new page in his notebook and studied Todd Blessing. “What can you tell me about the rumors that Mrs. Blake was having an affair?”
Blessing paled, shocked. Dante watched as the man pulled himself back together. “Excuse me?”
Dante leaned forward. Maybe this was what Todd Blessing was hiding. If he knew about the affair and chose to hide it from Jonathan there could be serious repercussions, and not just to his political career. He’d lose Jonathan as his friend, and possibly run into issues with his own marriage. “The entire office is buzzing with the gossip that Mrs. Blake was having an affair, probably with someone in this very office. Have you seen or heard anything that might indicate that this was true?”
Blessing leapt out of his chair as if he’d been bitten on the ass. “Absolutely not! Jen was totally devoted to Jonathan. She’d never betray him.” Blessing placed his hands squarely on his desk and scowled at Dante. “If, and I mean
if
, Jen was interested in anyone other than her husband, she would have left Jonathan first rather than have an illicit affair behind his back.”
“Unless her lover was married and didn’t want his wife to find out,” Dante said softly.
Blessing stared at him, his expression hard as stone. “This interview is over.” He stood and walked to the door, opening it with a flourish. “I believe you can see yourselves out.”
Elizabeth and Dante left the office, the door closing behind them with a soft
snick
.
“Gee, Dante, didn’t anyone teach you subtlety at the academy?” She shook her head in amazement.
Dante looked grim. “Sometimes when you suspect something it’s best to spring it on the suspect quickly and without warning. You’re more likely to get an honest reaction that way, especially with someone like Blessing.” And Blessing, he was almost positive, had been Mrs. Blake’s partner.
Beth closed her notebook and shoved it back in her pocket. “You think he’s Jennifer’s secret lover.”
Dante held the outer office door open for her. The light snow that had begun to fall was beginning to coat the sidewalk. “I think he’s the best candidate for the job, yes.”
“For the record, Detective, I happen to agree. As the saying goes, the gentleman doth protest too much.”
“He certainly doth.” Dante walked toward his car, lost in thought. “Did something else seem off-kilter to you?”
“Let’s see. Only two people in the entire office called her Jen. Not even her husband calls her Jen. He always calls her Jennifer.”
Dante brushed that off impatiently, though he mentally filed it for later examination. She was right. Only two people had called her Jen, and both were male. Maybe she was having more than one affair? “No, not that. Something else.”
“Like what?”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. Something just felt...off. Let me think on it.” He got into his car, making sure she was almost to her own before calling out, “See you tonight. My place. I’m cooking.”
He drove off, leaving Elizabeth in the falling snow. He didn’t want to give her time to protest.
She’d held something back from him, something that had to do with Samantha Brody. The quiet, intense conversation she’d had with Andi Hancock had piqued his curiosity. The way she’d stared at Sam had clinched it. Dante intended to find out what that something was, but first, he had a stop to make. It was time to put the most basic rule in motion. He picked up the phone, smiling when his Nephilim brother picked up. “Wyatt here.”
“Damien. I have a little job for you.”
When in doubt
,
follow the money.
“Let me guess. You want me to dig around in the Blessing campaign’s financial records.”
“Yeah. I’ll need to get a subpoena on the rest of the information if it turns out it’s not Shem related, but that could take a couple of days. Are you willing to help me out here, Damien?”
“I’ll look into it, but it might take a while.”
Dante stood. If he went the human route he wouldn’t need Damien. The computer and accounting forensics team would take it from there. But since this was a Shem attack mixed in with human affairs, Dante was willing to walk the thin gray line to try to keep the official channels in the dark as long as possible. He’d rather the murder was officially unsolved and nab the Shem before he killed anyone else than risk putting his coworkers in jeopardy. “Thanks, Damien. I owe you one.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get tickets to a Flyers game, and we’ll call it even.”
“I’ll get them later. I have...a date tonight.”
“Guh. A date? You? Who the hell did you have to pay for that?”
“
Testa di cazzo.
I’m seeing Elizabeth Rand.”
Silence. “Oh.
Really
. The private detective, huh?”
Damien’s tone was far too smug for his liking. “I have no idea what you’re thinking, but—” Dante laughed as he drove off. Damien had hung up, no doubt dialing their brothers to fill them in on Dante’s renewed love life.
Now he just had to make sure he wasn’t making a liar out of his best friend.
* * *
Detective Zucco lived in the cutest little Victorian-style house Beth had ever seen, complete with a dainty front porch and bright gingerbread moldings. The house itself was taupe with dark green shutters and bright white trim. The front yard was small, but the house had a two-car garage and a porch swing she was dying to try out.
It was a typical suburban home, fitting in perfectly with the other houses surrounding it. Nothing about it stood out.
It didn’t match the man she knew at all. Dante was anything but cookie-cutter and cute.
Dante opened the door, letting the warm light from inside spill out and envelope her. He held out his hand for her coat. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
Beth was intrigued. Did the inside match the outside? And if so, what was he trying to hide? This should be the man’s sanctuary, a reflection of the person he truly was inside, but all she saw were beige carpets and white walls. It was like he’d never really moved in. “Mind if I look around?”
“Sure, help yourself. I have to finish the pasta.”
“Thanks.” He took off, presumably toward the kitchen. His black T-shirt and jeans hugged his body, and his feet were bare. She smiled as she caught her first real glimpse of the man, not the cop. “Mind if I kick my shoes off too?”
“Go right ahead.”
Beth tucked her boots next to the front door, and then proceeded to check out Dante’s living room. She was surprised by the plain, dark green sofa and loveseat combo that looked barely used. Bland beyond belief, the whole room screamed bachelor. The wrought iron and glass coffee table was inexpensive, and the sand-colored ginger jar lamps could have been bought at any discount store. There were no pictures on the walls, or even a television set.
This wasn’t where Dante truly lived. Beth was willing to bet her P.I. license on it. There had to be another room in the house the man had claimed as his own, because this certainly wasn’t it. This was vanilla pudding with a side of vanilla. Dante was far too rich a flavor for this room.
Beth moved into the kitchen. The high-end white cabinets were in stark contrast to the black granite countertop. Bright stainless steel canisters dotted the countertop, matching the appliances. The floor was tile, a tumbled stone that was surprisingly warm under her bare feet. And the walls were a pale golden color that warmed everything in sight.
The bright red pots Dante was cooking with were high end as well. He looked right at home stirring the sauce and checking the pasta, moving with a bright self-assurance that spoke of his ease. Beth couldn’t take her gaze off him.
This
was one of the places the man lived, and it showed.
Beth glanced into the dining room and saw the same beige carpet and walls that were in the living room. The oak dining table was a pedestal style, the chairs plain and simple. Even the sideboard was no-frills, the oak matching the dining table and chairs perfectly, with no nick-knacks or candlesticks on top. If he owned any china it wasn’t on display. She wandered around his home, utterly baffled.
What. The. Hell?
This was
not
the Dante she butted heads with. This was some bland vanilla frat boy’s home, a place he only cleaned when his mom was coming over to do his laundry. Dante was fiery, opinionated and sure of himself, just like his kitchen.
The rest of his home was anything but.
Part of her itched to take all the boring furniture into his backyard and burn it, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate that. Instead, she accepted the glass of wine he handed her, taking a sip.
“Do you like pasta?” Dante asked.
Beth watched him stir the pasta bubbling away in the pot. “Sounds like a moot question to me, since you’re already cooking it.”
“Good, because we eat in five minutes. Go have a seat.” Dante’s tone was distracted. He didn’t even bother turning around as she left the kitchen and took a seat at his dining room table.
Something was not adding up, and it bothered her. Her fingers itched.
Dante was hiding something, and it went so deep it extended to his home. Whether it was his connection to the Nephilim, his failed marriage or something else, she didn’t know, but she was going to get to the bottom of it.
She so loved a good mystery.
* * *
Elizabeth was up again and studying his walls when he carried the steaming bowl of pasta in from the kitchen. “What are you doing?” He settled the bowl on the trivet on the table.