“Hi,” he said.
“Hi? Hi!? Don’t you dare ‘hi’ me. You arrested my boyfriend! After feeling me up. And you have the nerve to make my grandmother like you. You know how long I’m going to have to hear her ask about that nice Catholic boy now? So don’t you dare ‘hi’ me, you… you… pig!” Cool, in control Maddie. Yep, that’s me. Ugh.
“I had a warrant.” His voice was infuriatingly calm. Which of course made mine rise that much more.
“You used me!”
“Me? Maddie I’m not the one who got you pregnant then ditched you for a flea trap in Riverside.”
“Look, I know you think Richard did this, but I’ve been looking into Greenway’s past-”
Ramirez rolled his eyes. “Jesus, didn’t I tell you to leave this alone?”
I gritted my teeth and ignored him. “Do you want to know what I found out or not?”
“Fine. Can we go inside first?”
I gave him the evil eye, but had to agree that Richard’s status as a felon was not high on the list of things I wanted to share with my neighbors. I unlocked the door to my apartment, marching in ahead of him and laying my new EPT on the kitchen counter. Ramirez didn’t wait for an invitation before following me in. He leaned against the door frame counter, arms still crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised in anticipation.
“So? Let’s hear it,” he said with a this-oughta-be-good expression on his face.
I ignored the look, instead sharing my brilliant mistress theory and filling him in on my chats with Greenway’s string of big breasted girlfriends. “And all three are blonde and might own stilettos,” I finished. “I’m not sure. I haven’t gotten access to their closets yet.”
Ramirez rolled his eyes again. “Wonderful. The great shoe detective.”
“Hey, you were the one who told me about the shoe clue.” Okay, put like that it did sound like it belonged in a Scooby-Doo episode. But I stood my ground, putting my hands on my hips and doing my best don’t-mess-with-me face.
“So, you want me to believe there’s some mysterious thong wearing woman going around killing people?”
“Not people, just Greenway. And maybe his wife.”
Ramirez shook his head. “This is ridiculous. The investigation is closed.”
“How can it be closed? You don’t even have a murder weapon yet.”
Ramirez went silent.
I felt that lead weight settle in my belly again. “Do you have a murder weapon?”
“The report came back from ballistics. Greenway was shot with a.22, the same caliber weapon Richard bought for his wife last year. She says he asked to borrow it before he left town and now it’s missing.”
I bit my lip. “That doesn’t mean Richard pulled the trigger.”
Ramirez threw his hands up. “I don’t understand how you can possibly think this guy’s innocent.”
“What makes you so sure he’s not?” I countered, my voice starting to rise again.
“Because he’s an asshole! He lied to you, Maddie. He lied to the police, he lied to his wife. He’s a criminal.”
“But he’s not a murderer.”
“What, because some porn star found a thong?”
“Hey, if you’d get your head out of your macho man ass for two seconds, you’d see that there were other people with plenty of motive to want Greenway dead. You were the one who said there was a stiletto impression and blonde hairs in the room.”
“For God’s sakes, Greenway probably had a hooker in his room.”
“Metallica said we were the only hookers he saw.”
“Great, so your witnesses are a porn star and a stoner. Gee, you’re really building a case, Nancy Drew.”
“Hey, I don’t appreciate your tone of voice.”
“I don’t appreciate you sticking your nose into my investigation.”
“I thought you said your investigation was closed.”
“It is!”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
We paused for a breath, both our nostrils flaring, glaring like two prize fighters about to start round three.
Then Ramirez glanced down at the kitchen counter. “Taken that test yet?”
“Get out!” I pointed a straight arm at the front door. “Get out, get out, get out!” Okay, so I’d become a scene out of Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. But he was hitting below the belt now.
“Fine,” he yelled one more time before Bad Cop turned and slammed the door behind him.
I picked up the new EPT and threw it across the room at the closed front door. It bounced on the floor with a little plop. Which wasn’t nearly satisfying enough. So, I picked it up and jumped up and down on it a few times. My heel hit the little plastic window with a satisfying crunch. Apparently “virtually indestructible” didn’t take into consideration a pissed off woman with spiky heels.
I stared at the ruined pile of plastic. Damn. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t take a simple pregnancy test without becoming Calamity Jane? Did everything I touched have to fall to pieces? That’s it. I seriously needed therapy.
Ice cream therapy.
I got back in my Jeep, drove straight to the nearest Ben and Jerry’s shop and ordered a pint of Chunky Monkey. I sat in the parking lot and ate the entire thing.
Unfortunately, as I licked bananas and chocolate from my plastic spoon, I realized part of what Ramirez had said was true. Richard was a liar. He’d kept his marriage secret from me. And that was a hell of an omission. But part of me still hoped he had a reasonable explanation. Granted it was a very small part. Smaller even than my bite-of-bug boobs. But it was still there, itching at the back of my mind. Urging me to polish off the last of my ice cream therapy and point my Jeep in the direction of Richard’s office. I wasn’t sure where Ramirez’s cop friends were keeping Richard, but I knew someone at Dewy, Cheatum and Howe would. And it was time to have a little chat with my boyfriend.
I took the 10 into downtown, parking across the street from the law offices as I wasn’t in any sort of mood to walk the two blocks from the garage. Especially since I could feel the afternoon heat creeping into the high nineties again. Instead, I anteed up the change for the meter and gratefully rode the air conditioned elevator up to the fourth floor.
As usual, Jasmine was standing sentinel at her desk. She looked up and quickly closed whatever screen she’d been working on. I suspected another highly productive solitaire game.
“You again,” she said. “You’re not getting past me this time.” She wagged an acrylic nail at me in scolding.
“Relax, Receptionist Barbie. I’m here to see about Richard.”
She gave me a big, toothy smile, which I could swear actually said kiss-off-bitch. “Richard is indisposed, as you may have heard.”
“I know. I want to speak to whoever is handling his case.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
I gritted my teeth. I counted to ten. I promised myself another pint of B &J’s if I made it out of here without strangling her. “No. I don’t have an appointment.”
She smirked. I think she lived for people who didn’t have appointments. “Please have a seat and I’ll let Mr. Chesterton know you’re here. But,” she added with obvious glee in her eyes, “it could be awhile. Mr. Chesterton’s very busy right now.”
I matched her kiss-off-bitch smile with one of my own. “I’ll wait.”
I sat down in a leather chair near the door as Miss PP dialed Mr. Chesterton’s extension. She spoke to him for a few minutes, then hung up. “He’ll be with you in a moment,” she said. Which of course by the satisfied gleam in her eyes translated to: Get comfy. It could be awhile.
I held my tongue, instead watching as she opened her computer screen again, her eyes intent on what I guessed was a very difficult card game for a woman whose head was filled with silicon. Her evil Barbie sense must have felt my eyes on her as she turned around and caught me staring.