The partners in crime co.., p.43
The Partners in Crime Collection, page 43
“What do you mean?” Jamie asked. “Hey, want some water or something? I’ve got a couple of bottles in the car.”
“No, I’m okay, but thanks. I was talking about Sandi Dellarosa. If she could’ve waited another day before she offed her husband, I would’ve already been on a plane out of the country,” Santana said.
“Melisande killed Nate?”
“Oh, yeah. She gave him two sleeping pills and then shot him up with morphine. She’d been talking about various ways to poison him to death for years now and had decided that this would be the easiest. He was an asshole, but he didn’t deserve that nut job in his life.”
“Were you there?”
“Not when she did it. I’d gone for a run,” Santana said.
Jamie smirked. “In all black, on a dark road at night?”
Santana lifted the hoodie to reveal a form-fitting tank top that picked up every drop of light and turned her into a neon-green beacon. “I also have a headlamp in my pocket. I just tie the hoodie around my waist and then pull it on when I get back so I don’t glow all the way across the yard. Came in handy tonight when I saw all of the lights from about a mile away.”
“Then you don’t really know what happened, do you,” Jamie said.
“Oh, yes I do. Unless she got totally fed up and just shot him, the drugs are how she did it. Sandi Dellarosa was nothing if not thorough in her research and planning. First, she gets her boyfriend to off LaSherie and the baby, then she frames her husband – or tries to. You and that partner of yours really pissed her off when you didn’t come back and arrest Nate.”
“Who’s her boyfriend?” Jamie asked.
“Trey Warren. And before you ask, yes, she can still have sex. She has full sensation, but her legs don’t work. Although, poor Nate probably thought she’d lost that ability too, the way she’d been treating him.” Santana caught Jamie’s look and shrugged. “Hey, the guy was a first class piece of shit, but I’ll be the first one to tell you that if I had been in his shoes, I probably would’ve taken it all and run a long time ago.”
“We suspected Trey, but we have no proof. The security cameras in the lobby and hallways at the condo building went down the four hours around the time of death for LaSherie,” Jamie said. “Do you have anything that would be proof of everything you’re saying?”
“Give me your number again,” Santana said as she pulled out her cell phone. “And I’ll send you some stuff. I don’t know if you’d consider it enough proof, but it’s what I’ve got.”
Jamie gave her his number and she entered it, then scrolled a bit, tapped the screen, then pocketed her phone. He felt his phone vibrate with the signal he’d had an incoming message but didn’t take it out to check. Not while she was still standing here.
“Let me give you the name and number of a detective that’s still on the force that I trust. Janna Jones and her partner, Aidan Haggerty, are excellent detectives and good people. You’ll need to talk to someone, and they’re the people I’d go to if it were me,” Jamie said. He rattled off their numbers and Santana put them into her phone, too. “What are you going to do next?”
“I’m going to call a rideshare, stop at my storage unit to get some clothes, and find a hotel for the night.” Santana paused, then let out a sigh. “Probably the Lodge Inn if you want to check on me later. I’ll call your friends and talk to them in the morning.”
“Sounds good, Santana. Stay safe, okay? If you need anything, call me,” Jamie said.
Santana looked towards the house once more and shook her head. “Nothing like having circumstances rip your plans to shreds. Thanks for everything, Mr. Kennedy.”
“It’s Jamie,” he said as he watched her walk away from the lights and noise. Five minutes later, a car pulled up and she got in. Jamie took a photo of the back end of the car as it turned around to head back out of the area. Worst case? He had something to use to help track her down.
“Is it safe now?” Mike asked.
“Well, Santana’s gone, so I guess so?” Jamie replied. “What did you learn?”
Mike faded into view about a foot from where Jamie stood against his car, then reached out and tugged someone else closer. “No running off. I told you, you don’t want to just go skittering around and getting yourself into trouble.”
“Hello, Nate,” Jamie said as he saw the new ghost become visible. “Which was it? Pills or a bullet?”
“Pills,” Mike said. “I think Nate here would’ve puked if he’d had to see his body with a hole in it.”
“I can’t believe this is real. I’m not dead, this is just a bad dream. Wake up, Nate. This is just a dream,” Nate said as he stumbled into view, arms wrapped around himself. For a man who had been known to get manicures and who dressed impeccably while alive, Nate Dellarosa was going to spend his afterlife in baggy sweatpants and an 80’s hair band t-shirt with a hole in the shoulder. Oh, and barefoot. No thousand dollar Italian loafers in the afterlife for Nate, nope.
“Get a grip, man,” Jamie said to Nate. “Your new reality is calling.”
“How can you see me if I’m dead?” Nate asked Jamie.
“It’s magic. Now, what’s the last thing you remember?” Jamie asked.
“No, seriously, how can you see me?”
“Just lucky, I guess. Mike, give him a shake, would ya? I need some coherency out of him.”
Mike gave Nate a little shake, then hauled off and slapped him across the face. Nate suddenly calmed and took a quivering breath.
“Okay, okay. I’m getting better. Is there any whiskey around?” Nate asked.
“Doesn’t matter, you can’t eat or drink anyway,” Mike said. “Now, answer the man. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I was having trouble sleeping, so Melisande gave me a couple of her over-the-counter sleep aids. I settled in and fell asleep. Then I was standing next to the bed, looking at myself and Melisande was on the phone with the emergency operator. She sounded frantic but looked calm. It was weird.”
“What else do you remember?” Jamie asked.
“There was a syringe in one of my hands, but I never would do that. I hate needles,” Nate said.
Jamie turned to Mike. “Santana said that the wife talked about various ways of killing him and had decided that sleeping pills to knock him out, then shoot him full of morphine would be the best way. I’m betting that’s what Doc will find when he does the autopsy.”
“But I don’t want an autopsy,” Nate wailed. “Oh, gods. I need to get different clothes. I can’t be seen like this.”
“Do what you can, Mike. I need to find Aidan and Janna. Is the wife under arrest yet?” Jamie asked.
“She’s being brought down to the station for questioning, in spite of her playing up the crippled widow card. I’ll swing by and tell Doc she’s the doer, then take this one somewhere to calm his ass down. He’s no good to us like this,” Mike said.
“Good luck with that,” Jamie said as he gave the whimpering Nate a sideways look. “I didn’t think it was possible for this guy to be more pathetic. I was wrong.”
Mike dragged Nate along and Jamie got back into his vehicle. He sent a text to Aidan and asked them to call him as soon as they got a moment and that it was about Nate. Then he opened up the message from Santana. A collection of video files, images of documents, and recorded conversations filled his inbox, so he forwarded them to the cloud server he shared with Jack, then sent her a text that he was headed home and to call him. He could be of more use sorting through the things Santana sent him than if he continued to sit outside the house and listen to Nate whine. It was time to get to work.
Jack had tucked her hair up into a paper cap, then under a hat to help hide who she was. A mask and goggles, gloves and the baggy jumpsuit that most crime scene assistants wore did more to hide her identity than any fancy wig and makeup might have done.
Head down, she carried a gear case into the crime scene right behind Dr. Finney. They made their way to a wing of the house Jack hadn’t seen the last time she’d been here, and into the owner’s suite. In the center of the far wall, a pair of queen-sized beds sat on either side of a cabinet. One bed had equipment to help a wheelchair bound person lift themselves in and out. The other bed had Nate Dellarosa’s dead body sprawled across the sheets.
“This bedroom is almost as large as some of the apartments I’ve lived in,” Dr. Finney muttered as he crossed the polished floor to where the body was being photographed by one of his team. “Put the case on that chair and open it up, then hand me whatever I ask for. Got it?” he said to Jack.
“Got it, boss,” Jack replied with a grin.
For Jack, it was fascinating to have an up close and personal view of what the medical examiner did at a crime scene. It didn’t seem like much, but he pointed out a few things he wanted photographed before they would even touch the body. Jack handed Doc vials and sampling tubes to collect trace elements that might get lost in transfer. She watched as he labeled and then sealed them before they were handed back to her to store in the case.
“Okay, bag him up. Make sure to get the bedding bagged up, too. I’m taking the syringe and vial to test at the lab, so let the team know,” Dr. Finney said to the room full of techs and investigators. He turned to Jack and gave her a nod to follow him, so she snapped the case shut and headed out behind him.
“We need to do a wipe test of the wife and anyone else that might have touched the body,” Doc said.
“They have an assistant, Santana, but I don’t know of any other household members,” Jack replied.
Doc stepped into the family room where two uniformed officers stood near Melisande Dellarosa’s wheelchair. One of her wrists was handcuffed to a bar on the chair.
“I need you to remove the cuffs temporarily,” Dr. Finney said to one of the officers. “I need to do a trace wipe of her hands.”
“Sure, Doc, one sec,” the officer replied and bent to unlock the cuff. “No funny business,” he warned Melisande.
“Fuck off,” Melisande replied. “I do not consent to this test.”
“You don’t have to consent. I’m doing it anyway. You’ve been arrested, correct? You want evidence to clear you? Let me wipe a cloth on your hands,” Dr. Finney said.
Melisande rolled her eyes, then stuck out her hands, palms up. Dr. Finney handed Jack a bag, then pulled out a wipe and scrubbed the left hand palm and top, then tucked the wipe into the bag and sealed it before he repeated the process with the woman’s right hand.
“All done. You can cuff her again,” Doc said. “Where’s the assistant? Was there anyone else in the house tonight?” he asked the officer.
“No one else has been here tonight. The assistant is being tracked down, but she’s not been here all night,” the officer said.
Jack could feel Melisande’s stare, but she kept her head down and stayed behind Doc. They’d never been up close to the woman, so she didn’t expect to be recognized.
Doc tugged on Jack’s sleeve and they went back out to his truck. “She sure didn’t look like the grieving widow, did she?” Doc said.
“They weren’t exactly a loving couple,” Jack said. “I didn’t see his ghost, did you?”
“Nope. That happens sometimes, though. They can take anywhere from a few hours to a few days to show up. I’ve had them pop in when I’m unloading the bag onto the table – and have walked into the morgue to find them standing and staring at the drawer that holds their earthly remains. Sometimes they don’t show up until after the funeral. I don’t know why some show up and some just go right on through.”
Jack pulled out her phone as they drove away from the scene. “Jamie needs me to call him. Is it okay if I go ahead and do that?”
“Of course. I can drop you back at his place before I take these samples in, if you want?”
“That’s probably a good idea. My car is there, and the less contact I have with stuff, the better.”
Jack put the phone on speaker and dialed Jamie. “Hey, Jamie. I’ve got you on speaker. Doc’s driving me back to your place.”
“Hey, guys. I came home because I spent some time speaking with Santana. She gave me a bunch of information and I’ll need your help going through it, Jack.”
“The cops are looking for her,” Jack said.
“I figured. I sent a text to Janna and Aidan. Santana says that Melisande is the killer. She used sleeping pills to knock Nate out and then shot him full of morphine.”
“Well, that’ll be easy enough to prove. I’ll run the bloodwork and tox screens as soon as I get his body on the table,” Doc said.
“Mike has Nate’s ghost. He’s even more whiney and pathetic dead than he was alive. Mike’s going to try and calm him down so we can get some coherent answers out of him.”
“Wow, I didn’t think it was possible for that guy to be more whiney. Ugh,” Jack said.
“Mike said he was going to stop by and tell you guys that Melisande was the doer, but I guess he didn’t?”
“No, but we weren’t there very long, and it was a packed house. Tons of people in and out, so we weren’t alone long enough for him to catch us,” Doc said.
“Be safe getting here,” Jamie said. “Things are moving quickly.”
“We’ll be safe. See you shortly,” Jack said and disconnected the call. She turned to Doc as she pocketed her phone. “What will the wipes possibly show?”
“Well, they collect trace evidence that even if she used soap and water, may well show up. If she shot him up with morphine and some dripped on her hands, the wipe would pick it up. It’s not a smoking gun, but it is one more piece of the puzzle.”
“I am eager to see what Santana shared with Jamie. She may well be the piece that pulls this all together.”
“Good luck with that. I’ve got a long night ahead. Talk to me anytime, okay?” Doc said.
“Thanks, Doc. I appreciate everything,” Jack replied as she got out of the truck in front of Jamie’s house. She peeled off the jumpsuit and put the cap and suit on the front seat. “Stay safe.”
“You too,” Doc replied and drove away.
“Doc’s not the only one that’s going to have a long night,” Jack murmured as she knocked on Jamie’s door.
Dead to Rights: Chapter Seventeen
“Well, the good news is that Aidan and Janna caught the Dellarosa case since they were already working on LaSherie’s case,” Jamie said as he and Jack tucked into the reheated takeout from earlier. “That makes sharing information easier.”
“Did you tell them where to find Santana?” Jack asked.
“I did. I gave them her number and said she had planned on staying at the Lodge Inn tonight. They’re going to go sit with her and put an officer on the place to make sure she’s safe. She’s the best chance they’ve got to get a conviction.”
“I can’t believe the stuff she sent you. Screen shots of financials, recordings of Melisande discussing how she wanted to kill Nate and of her frustrations with the failure of her setup to pin LaSherie’s murder on him. They can even go arrest Trey Warren with this information.”
“If I were them, I’d wait until Melisande was fully aware of how screwed she is, and then get her to roll over on Warren. The recording is good, but a verbal confession in front of witnesses is better. Warren’s a politician and we know how slippery they can be when it comes to convictions.”
“I’m just glad we’re not in the middle of this one,” Jack said. “As in, we’re not the face of taking down a politician this time.”
“I hear you,” Jamie replied. “So, do we think Melisande was behind all of the murders?”
“That’s too easy. I can see her wanting LaSherie dead, for a variety of reasons – the baby, her husband, maybe Nate wanted to leave Melisande and go be with LaSherie and raise their baby? I mean, just one of those is a solid enough motive.”
“What about Trey being behind it all?” Jamie asked.
“Well, we know he didn’t kill Melly. A couple hundred people is a pretty solid alibi. I doubt he had anything to do with Joel Johnson, either. We have Santana’s word that Trey did it on Melisande’s behalf, and we have calls between Melisande and Trey, receipts for gifts and meals that Melisande gave to Trey – that one I can see,” Jack said. “Has Mike found Joel Johnson yet?”
“No, and I don’t expect him to anytime soon. Nate Dellarosa’s ghost is a handful,” Jamie replied. “Hey, let’s call it a night. I want to swing by and talk to Santana in the morning and make sure she’s okay.”
“Sure. Want me to come with you tomorrow?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got this. Let’s meet at Resolute at ten and update Joey on what we’ve got and see if he’s got anything else we should be working on since Nate’s dead and I’m guessing we’re done working on LaSherie’s case in any official capacity,” Jamie said.
“Oh, right. I didn’t even think about that part. Dead Nate and an arrested Melisande means getting paid for the work done so far is going to be tough. I’ll bring donuts to sweeten Joey’s mood,” Jack said.
“Already you’re learning,” Jamie said with a grin.
Jamie showed his ID to the officer seated outside Santana’s hotel room door, then tapped on it as he juggled the cup carrier and a bag of food. When she opened the door, he smiled and handed her the cups. “I bring caffeine and sugar in the form of chocolate pastries. Not exactly the breakfast of champions but guaranteed to brighten your mood.”
“Mr. Kennedy,” Santana said. “This is a surprise. Uh, come in?”
“It’s Jamie. Unless you want me to start calling you Ms. Moreno?”
“Okay, Jamie,” Santana said. “Thanks for the breakfast. I ordered a room service omelet, but it wasn’t exactly satisfying.” She put the cup carrier on the table and picked one out. “Is there any difference between them?”
“No, both are black. I have cream and sweeteners in the bag. I didn’t know how you took it and figured this was the safest bet.” Jamie put the bag down and took the smaller bag of coffee fixings out to hand to her. “This is a nice room.”
