“I’m so sorry,” T.J. said. He reached across the table and laid his hand on top of hers. “It looks to me like you kept your promise.”
“I worked two jobs, buried myself in student loans, and five years later, I earned a master’s degree in criminology from Saint John’s University. I made the police force when I was twenty-five, busted my ass for six years, and then made detective. That was five years ago. The rest is history.”
“That is quite a story. The only word that comes to mind is ‘wow’.”
“Well, T.J., you now know more about me than any living human.” For the first time since she began her story, she could feel the tension slowly draining from her body. “I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
“Can we postpone your autobiography for another time? I’m mentally exhausted.”
He looked relieved that she made this request. “I was hoping you’d ask that. I really don’t know if I could handle it right now myself.”
His comment sparked Dupree’s curiosity, leading her to believe that his story might be as colorful as hers. “Let’s get out of here.”
T.J. paid the tab and they went outside into the sultry evening air. As always, 5th Avenue was humming with activity. They moved slowly, side by side, neither uttering a sound.
Dupree stopped and pointed to a high rise building. “That’s it. The place I call home.”
“Nice digs. Way cool to live in the heart of the Village.”
“Thanks to my mother.” Dupree felt a little awkward, like T.J. and she had just gone on a first date. “I’d invite you up, but my eyes are drooping.”
“Maybe another time,” T.J. said.
“Goodnight, T.J. Thanks for being such a good listener.” She inched toward him and kissed him on the cheek.
“Sweet dreams, Amaris. See you in the morning.”
As she walked towards the main entrance to her apartment building, she stopped, turned her head, and watched T.J. walk away. She felt a bit awkward after kissing his cheek and hoped he didn’t think it meant more than an innocent gesture.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Severely hung over, choking down some cop-coffee as quickly as the hot beverage would allow, Dupree entered the main meeting room. Quite to her surprise, T.J. and John Butler, Dupree’s favorite CSI agent, were sitting next to each other, coffee in one hand, bagel in the other. Maybe her little chat with T.J. had gotten through to him. She hadn’t seen him in the precinct this early in months.
Dupree glanced at T.J. and immediately felt uneasy, as if it was the morning after a one-night-stand, regret dominating her thoughts. She almost felt embarrassed that she’d shared her entire history with T.J., unedited and without reservation. She suspected that their relationship would never be quite the same from this day forward. Now that he knew so many intimate details about her, how could it ever be the same?
Trying to shake off her feeling of anxiety, Dupree offered a salute with her mug of coffee. “Mornin’ guys. I thought all cops ate donuts for breakfast.”
“Not when the captain brings in fresh bagels,” Butler said.
“What’s the occasion?” Dupree asked.
“I think he got laid last night,” T.J. said. “How’s your head this morning?”
“Need you ask? Next time I stop for one drink with you, I’m sticking with tonic water.”
“T.J. tells me you two had quite a night,” Butler said.
Quite a night?
Given T.J.’s alleged reputation with women, it suddenly occurred to Dupree that Butler might be thinking that the two of them had hooked up last night. Trying to make light of Butler’s comment, Dupree forced a smile. “Let’s just say that I haven’t been that toasted since my high school prom.”
“So I’ve heard.” Butler looked at his watch and stood. “I’d love to chat with you two fine detectives, but I have to earn my keep. I’m meeting with the M.E. in a few minutes to discuss the autopsy results for Dr. Crawford. Talk to you later.”
“Wish I could join you, but T.J. and I have a crazy-busy day. Call me as soon as you finish with the M.E.”
“Will do.”
As soon as Butler left the room, Dupree looked at T.J. “Please tell me that you didn’t—”
“Give me a little credit, Amaris. I’ll take your story to the grave.”
“Thank you.
T.J opened a manila folder. “Got some interesting information for you this morning. Some boring but some that might perk you up.”
“I’m listening,” Dupree said.
“I thoroughly checked out Dr. Mason and he’s a model citizen. Lives in a spectacular home in the Hamptons, he pays his taxes on time, belongs to Gulfstream Country Club, been married twice, he’s a widower, has no kids, and no criminal record. He retired from his private practice a couple years ago and joined Dr. Crawford at the Horizon Cancer Research Center.”
“I hope that’s the boring part because I’m yawning here,” Dupree said.
“Here’s the fun stuff,” T.J. said. “Little Miss Maggie Hansen—our straight-laced scientist? She may not kill spiders, but has no problem kicking the shit out of humans.”
“Say again.”
“First off, back in her college days, she got into an argument with her roommate and beat her silly. Roomie ended up in the hospital, and Hansen was arrested and charged with assault. For whatever reason, Hansen’s roommate didn’t press charges, so she got off with a slap on the hand. But get this: the fight was over a guy.”
“I’m not getting the connection,” Dupree said.
“Well, fasten your seatbelt because I’m not done yet. On a hunch, I called Dr. Mason this morning and caught him just as he was leaving the office. He said he had to catch a flight and didn’t have time to talk. But I convinced him to give me a few minutes. So, I asked him why Crawford fired Hansen. He confirmed that the employment records clearly state that she was fired because she did not meet the deadline to complete the critical report Hansen told us about. But here’s the kicker. Remember Jonathan Lentz, Dr. Crawford’s ex-boyfriend? It seems that while he was dating Dr. Crawford, he and Hansen had a little fling. Lentz and Hansen met at a holiday get together at Dr. Mason’s home. Apparently, Lentz and Hansen really hit it off. Ultimately, their little affair caused great conflict between Hansen and Dr. Crawford. So much so that Dr. Crawford eventually ended her relationship with Lentz.”
“You’ve really done your homework,” Dupree said. “So it would seem that to save face and preserve her dignity, Dr. Crawford couldn’t just fire Hansen. She needed a reason.”
“Obviously, this whole triangle relationship thing wouldn’t be motive enough for Hansen to murder Dr. Crawford. In fact, Dr. Crawford probably fantasized about murdering Hansen. However, when you add to the equation that Hansen was bitter because Dr. Crawford fired her, she supposedly passed on a job offer from Hyland Laboratories, and said nothing about the assault charge…”
“We need to get Hansen down here,” Dupree said. “Pronto.”
“I’m on it,” T.J. said.
Dupree looked at her watch. “It’s only eight-thirty in the morning and already you got this background info on both Mason and Hansen?”
“Hey,” T.J. said. “I rolled on this yesterday.”
“I’m impressed,” Dupree said. “Great detective work.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Maggie Hansen will be here at noon,” T.J. said, looking as proud as someone who’d earned the Medal of Honor. “She came up with a dozen excuses why she couldn’t come to the precinct, but I convinced her that she wouldn’t be happy with the alternative.”