The Rogue Reviewer (Primrose, Minnesota Book 3) (7 page)

Before he could stop himself, he moved his
thumb from beneath her touch and when he began a gentle glide
across the soft smooth skin of her knuckles, her mesmerizing green
eyes widened and he expected her to yank free of his grasp and deck
him in the jaw. Instead, she leveled her gaze; the unspoken
challenge in the depths made him flatten his palm and weave their
fingers. Her tongue left her mouth to sweep her bottom lip. His
cock screamed. His blood boiled. And he only touched her.

“If you two keep this up much longer, I’m
gonna need a cigarette.”

Mace moved his gaze to Marnie who, in all
honesty, he forgot sat next to Dara. He opened his mouth to offer
an explanation but then closed it. How the hell could he possibly
explain when he wanted her to get lost so he could spread Dara
across the table and devour her like a five course meal?

“C’mon, Detective Stewart.” Marnie pointed to
the bar where Chad stood, polishing drinking glasses. “I’ll buy you
a soda.”

Jackson glanced at him and a silent, perfect
don’t-fuck-this-up
threat passed between them.

Mace nodded and waited until Marnie and
Jackson left the booth to turn his attention back to Dara. “What
are you doing here?”

“I told you that Chad and I are friends.
Marnie and I just stopped in to chat.”

“To chat.”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

She shrugged. “Nothing really.”

“Nothing really.”

She frowned. “Is there an echo in here?”

He tightened his grip on her fingers. “What
did you and Chad discuss, Dara?”

“Why are you so interested, Detective
Turner?”

“It’s my job to ask questions.”

“Well, if you must know.” She leaned close
and he inhaled the scent of her perfume – a mixture of something so
soft and alluring it squeezed his cock almost in two. “We discussed
a date.”

He clenched his teeth so hard he knew they’d
crack. His head threatened to spin on his shoulders and he was very
thankful he couldn’t reach the gun in his body holster at the
moment. And then her mischievous grin returned.

He exhaled a loud breath. “The truth,
Dara.”

“That is the truth.”

“You’re seeing Chad?”

“Your skills need work.” She rolled her eyes.
“No, Chad and I discussed the security tapes. He and Marnie are
going out next week.”

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or
severely pissed off. The little wench knew exactly what she was
doing. “Leave the security tapes to me.”

“We need to get something straight,
Detective. I’m not the delicate flower you think I am. In fact, I’m
a whole lot stronger than you think.”

He fought the urge to grin but knew that
would be a fatal mistake. If he gave her even the slightest
indication her fire went straight to his groin, she’d turn her
anger on him and burn him from head to toe. “Never a doubt in my
mind.”

“Then why do you insist on solving this crime
alone?!”

His cock jumped. Damn, her independence made
his hard. “I’m a detective.”

“Really,” she drawled. “Then explain why I
have more viable evidence than you.”

“You don’t.”

“So you think. It just so happens I have a
whole arsenal full of information and if you’d agree to be halfway
cooperative, we might strike a deal.”

“No deal.”

“You aren’t in the least bit curious?”

“Not in the least.”

“Well that’s just too bad. Your loss.”

“I won’t be the loser Dara, because if I
catch you anywhere near evidence in my case, I’ll lock you up.”

“Promise?”

“Guaranteed. And I won’t release you.”

Flames danced in the depths of her eyes.
“I’ll sic Alex on you.”

Although he knew the truth behind her words
and the reality somewhat –
damn
– scared him, he wouldn’t
give her the luxury of having that information. “Even Alex won’t be
able to spring you.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Aw, hell
. “Okay, no,” he spat. “But
again, I’m asking you to leave the investigation to me.”

“I told you, I’m not investigating. I’m
simply trying to determine who left a corpse in my living
room.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.” Her eyes darkened with her
persistence. “I have no intention of confronting a madman or
hunting him down. As soon as I figure out who’s responsible, I’ll
call the authorities.”

“You mean, you’ll call me.”

“If you’re available, yes. I frankly don’t
care who apprehends him as long as he’s caught.”

“I’m always available. You’ll call me.”

“You know, you are very stubborn, Detective
Turner.”

He gave her what he knew to be his best
ladykiller smile. “Takes one to know one.” He stood from the booth,
confident he’d made his point. And then she kicked confidence in
the ass when she turned and grinned.

“Just remember, Detective, I write that smile
for a living.”

***

After he spent most of the afternoon
searching the Internet and reading page after page of book reviews
that he categorized as scathing, Mace had identified scads of
potential suspects. Putting the weapon in the killer’s hands
however, proved almost impossible. He and Jackson had been locked
in his office for hours and the walls felt as if they were closing
in.

He wiped a hand across his forehead. “Neither
of those women murdered the victim.”

“Agreed.”

“What convinced you, Stewart, their alibi or
their attorney?”

His partner snickered. “I’ve dealt with Alex
Jennings before. She’s good – real good. In fact, I’d be very
confident before I accused one of her clients of anything. Believe
me, she’d bust your balls with one beat of an eyelash.”

He bit back a grin. A beautiful ball-buster –
just what Jackson ordered. Then again, all five women were
attractive and extremely confident. Something about that
combination challenged most men. Including himself.

“I think we’ve ruled out anyone associated
with DRAMA. The security camera at Hannigan’s places every single
one of them there during the time Lancaster pegged the death.”

“So that clears our most obvious
suspect.”

“Yes, I guess it does.”

“But we still don’t have a viable one.”

“The victim had a lot of enemies.”

“True, but who hated her enough to kill
her?”

“Dara was exactly right when she said her
reviews were negative.”

“So, you’re using Dara’s evidence?”

“Screw you. I searched every paper I could
find for the last two years — all negative.”

“Bad publicity sells.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think many authors thanked
her.”

“How many are we talking?”

“Approximately one hundred, give or take a
few.”

“Let’s back up.” Jackson steepled his
fingers. “The perp obviously entered using the door. There were no
prints on the front window, nor was it broken. That said, the
bedroom window lacked prints and was also intact.”

“Several options of entry have crossed my
mind. He either used an existing key, picked the lock, or he’s a
helluva locksmith and cut a new key. Our next stop should be the
Homeowners’ Association office.”

“Don’t be surprised if your girl’s already
been there.”

“I told her to mind her own business.”

“And you really believe she took your
advice?”

Inwardly, he knew that to be a negative and
chose to redirect the conversation. “How soon can CSI contact a
forensic locksmith?”

“As soon as we ask.” Jackson sat forward.
“Hey Turner, think the captain would agree to bringing in
Ryker?”

Mace only paused a second to process. Ryker
Adams was one man they definitely needed on their team. The Rangers
had trained him to be an expert tracker and even after retirement,
the Master Sergeant used his skill to operate a successful security
firm.

“Don’t see why not. I’ll give him a call.
We’ll swing by the townhouse and let him look around before we
crash the Homeowners Association.”

After only minutes of convincing Captain
Bradley to add Ryker to the team, Mace and Jackson were back in the
car, headed for Dara’s townhouse.

“I haven’t seen Ryker in a while,” Jackson
said with a grin. “Wonder what he’s been up to.”

“Never can tell with Ryker. He’s probably
been occupied rescuing another damsel in distress in some third
world country.”

Jackson nodded. “Seems to be a lot of
rescuing going around lately.”

“Come again?”

“You, for example. During the interrogation
of a prime suspect of murder, you slide your hand across the table
and grasp hers in comfort.”

“She was distraught. You said it, I comforted
her.”

“You didn’t comfort Marnie.”

He gave his partner a hard stare. “Spit it
out.”

“Don’t let your dick get in the middle of
this investigation, Turner.”

“Not a problem.” He closed the subject with
another glare. “What about Griffin Owens?”

“I think he’s worth another look. He eyed
Dara like a steak dinner.”

“Agreed.”

“What about Georgette Swanson?”

“We don’t need to bother. I’m sure Dara and
Marnie have all the information we need.” Mace pulled into a free
parking space in front of the townhouse and pointed to a black
truck parked at the curb. “There’s Ryker.”

They exited their vehicle and met Ryker
halfway between the curb and the front door of the unit.

“You’re parked in a fire zone, Adams.” Mace
extended a hand and grinned. “How the hell are you?”

Ryker returned the gesture and then extended
the same to Jackson. “Great. Glad to meet up with you guys again.
Fill me in.”

“Murder. The victim was a freelance book
reviewer,” Mace explained as they approached the condo. “She was
killed here, the home of one of the authors she reviewed on the day
of the murder.”

Ryker whistled. “Is your suspect under
surveillance?”

Jackson grinned. “Only Mace’s
surveillance.”

“Oh man,” Ryker ran a hand through his wavy
blond hair. “You’re doing a suspect?”

Mace tossed Jackson a menacing stare. “No!
And besides, we’ve cleared her as a suspect.”

“I’ll fill you in later,” Jackson told
Ryker.

Mace stuck the key in the lock and turned.
“Take a deep breath of fresh air now, gentlemen, you’ll need
it.”

As soon as he opened the door, the stench
almost knocked him over. His stomach churned and he swallowed hard
to keep his gag reflex in check.

Ryker slapped him on the back and pulled a
cell phone from his pocket. “I won’t take long.”

Mace frowned and worked to pull air across
his lungs. “Who are you calling?”

“No one. The camera on this baby is ten times
better than any digital I own.”

“We have pictures taken by CSI,” Jackson told
him.

“Rather take my own.” Ryker aimed the phone
and clicked several times. “The CSI boys always miss
something.”

Mace silently agreed. Ryker had an uncanny
knack of finding the proverbial needle in the haystack. He just
hoped the other man would take the pictures quickly so they could
get the hell out.

Ryker made his way around the living area and
then the kitchen, aiming and clicking picture after picture. Mace’s
head swam and his stomach tilted until he thought he might pass out
and by the time Ryker finished, he was seriously giving his career
a second thought.

“That’s a wrap.” Ryker returned the phone to
his pocket and Mace seriously considered giving him a huge bear hug
as they headed back out of the unit and locked the door. “I scoped
out the Homeowner’s Association office before you guys got here.
It’s directly behind her unit.”

Mace scanned the area again as they walked to
the office, hoping evidence would present itself. And, if luck was
on his side, maybe the suspect would return to the scene of the
crime.

“Any suspects?” Ryker asked as they opened
the door to the office.

Mace nodded. “Hundreds, literally.”

“My kind of case.”

Jackson approached a desk and smiled at a
tiny, gray-haired woman who sat there. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m
Detective Stewart.” He gestured with a hand at Mace and Ryker.
“This is Detective Turner and Ryker Adams. We’re investigating the
murder of Evelyn Wallace.”

“Oh my. Wasn’t that just awful? That poor
woman. And Dara, the poor little thing. Finding a body in her home
was such a traumatic experience.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mace agreed. “Did you know the
victim, Ms …..?”

“Where are my manners?” She stood and
extended a hand. “Millicent Bridgewater. I take care of the
office.”

Mace took her hand and then released it. “Did
you know Ms. Wallace?”

“No, not at all. I’ve only read her work in
the paper.”

“But you’re well-acquainted with Ms.
Hamilton?”

“Yes, I’ve known Dara for several years.
Lovely, lovely girl.”

“Where are the master keys kept, Ms.
Bridgewater?”

“They are locked in a vault here behind the
desk.”

“Does the vault remain locked?”

“Yes, it’s never opened unless there’s a need
to use a master key.”

“Who’s responsible for unlocking it?”

“The vault is opened with a combination and
I’m the only one who knows it.”

“Who opens it if you’re not available?”

“Only Mr. Buchanan, the chairman of the
association.”

“Do you happen to know where he was the night
of the murder?”

“Yes. He and his wife are celebrating their
fortieth wedding anniversary. Currently, they’re in Africa on a
safari.”

“And you?”

“Home, in bed with my husband.”

Mace pulled a card from his shirt pocket and
handed it to her. “Thank you, Ms. Bridgewater. Please call me if
you can think of anything else we should know.”