The formal interview with Kim hadn’t yielded anything.
Kim was a lonely, fairly simple woman without a lot of friends. No, she didn’t know if Bryce was seriously seeing anybody. Yes, she knew a lot of people who could be mad at Bryce, but Bryce had been pretty much a bastard. He’d pissed off almost everybody he met at some point in time. Yes, she was at home Friday night, all night, alone. No, she didn’t have a boyfriend.
Kim didn’t have the spine to do any of this. Wouldn’t have the spine to sneak into Darci’s home, try to scare her…hell, Kellan doubted she had the brain.
Or the fire. Although the murders had been quick, there was something…heated about them. Kellan couldn’t get past the thought that whoever had done this had some deep hatred inside of her.
Kim didn’t seem to have that kind of passion.
Somebody with heat inside them…he ticked through the people in his head whom he knew were acquainted with all the victims. Well, Darci had heat, but he knew she hadn’t done it.
The murders had left her sick.
Plus, he also believed what she had said… I’m too lazy…hatred requires energy.
Yes, it did. A lot of energy.
Tricia? Hell, that woman was an icicle. She didn’t have heat inside of her. Hatred was heat.
Maybe Peggy…but he dismissed that idea before it even formed. She was a listless, lifeless being, the only heat he’d ever seen from her was in the paintings and sketches she sold.
Della.
He couldn’t think of a reason for her to kill Bryce, but maybe if he looked… There was certainly reason for Della to be angry with Carrie, if Della had finally figured out how badly Carrie was using her, how Carrie had lied. Somebody unbalanced would have a hard time dealing with anger in a logical manner.
Was Della the type to fly over the edge with her rage?
Possibly. She had certainly lit into Darci, from what he had heard, when she thought Darci was screwing Max. And he’d seen signs of her temper, knew she could sometimes react…irrationally.
Maybe it was time to talk to Della a little bit.
Chapter Five
“Where was I?” she repeated, staring at him with flat, dark eyes. Della Bennett ran a hand through her dark, curly hair and lifted a cigarette to her mouth, puffing twice before blowing out a stream of smoke through her nostrils. “Here. In bed, with Max,” she said, shrugging. “Why, you think I killed Bryce? That worm?”
“I didn’t say anything of the sort, Della,” Kellan said, tapping his pen against his thigh.
“Mmm. Maybe not, but you’re trying to pin down my whereabouts for the night he was killed. Can’t think of any other reason why you might be asking,” she drawled. “Max is at work, but you’re welcome to check with him.”
“Oh, I will,” Kellan said.
She shrugged. Couldn’t care less…he read the body language, the look in her eyes, and even though he finished running through his questions, he added everything up to one simple fact. She couldn’t care less about Bryce.
She wasn’t his killer.
His killer had cared, maybe obsessively so.
“What about the day Carrie died?” he asked.
Her lips curled up in a wry smile. “Max can tell you about that, too. I was busy ripping him a new asshole for daring to mess with another woman,” she said, tapping her cigarette against the ashtray. “He told me I was crazy and he didn’t know what in the hell I was talking about.” An odd look passed through her eyes and she added softly, “He was telling the truth. I didn’t admit that to myself until just a few days ago. He wasn’t messing around on me, not with Darci, not with anybody.”
“So you know Carrie was lying? Mad about that?”
“Of course, she wasn’t lying.” Della frowned at him. “Hell, I don’t know who started the rumor. Carrie was just telling me what she thought was going on. I don’t know where she came up with the story. Can’t ask her, either,” she said sadly.
“You don’t think Carrie made it up, to cause trouble with you and Darci?”
“Hell, what’s the point in that?” Della asked.
Kellan shrugged. “Darci admired you. A lot. Liked you,” he said, watching as she flinched at his words. Losing that seemed to bother her some. “That’s changed now. Hurt you a little…but I think you hurt Darci a lot. And that’s what Carrie was after.”
“Why in the hell would Carrie want that? She likes…liked Darci. Damn it, it’s still too hard to believe,” she muttered, rubbing her temple. “But she liked her. She’d tell anybody that. Even if Darci did run her mouth a lot.”
Kellan laughed. “Della, I never thought you were naïve enough to believe everything somebody tells you. Now…I know people pretty well,” he said, tossing his pen on the table. “And I can assure you, Carrie didn’t have fond feelings for Darci. She hid it well, but she did not like Darci. At all.”
With a brittle laugh, Della demanded, “How in the hell do you know?”
He shrugged. “Same way I know Carrie didn’t like you either. You two women are things Carrie wasn’t…vibrant, passionate women. Everywhere you two go, people like you. People want to be like you. People flock to you,” Kellan said. “In order for Carrie to get people to like her, she had to lie, make them think she was something other than what she was. She was a tired, bitter old woman.”
Her hands started to shake. Minutely shaking her head, drawing on her cigarette. “That’s not true,” she finally snapped, her voice rising.
“Yes, it is,” he said, cocking a brow at her. “And you’ve suspected it for a long time. You just don’t want to admit it-because then you’d have to admit why Carrie went out of her way to befriend you from the get-go. She wanted to use you. Now, that, normally, wouldn’t be unusual-I think a lot of people have tried to use you-you’re famous, talented. But you’re also smart, and quick. Usually you can spot a user from ten miles away. But not with her-you let her use you. That must really burn.”
“Fuck. You,” Della said coldly, enunciating each word slowly and carefully. Smashing her cigarette down into the ashtray, she stood and stomped out of the room. “Let yourself out.”
Strike two, Kellan thought wearily, rubbing his eyes.
He headed down River Road, telling himself to stop getting so antsy.
Darci was fine.
She had a deputy there watching the house, and she’d call if anything seemed the slightest bit odd.
No reason for him to go by the house.
Except for the fact that he had to see her. Touch her.
It was close to seven-thirty, which meant the deputy would maybe want a bite to eat.
But Kellan hadn’t planned it that way. Well, not completely.
As he pulled into the driveway, he ran his tongue over his lips, remembering the way she tasted, how she felt. How she had burrowed against him and pressed her breasts up against his chest, so that he had felt the hard nubs of her nipples stabbing into his flesh. The way her belly had cuddled his cock. The hungry little moans in her throat.
He paused by the deputy’s car and knelt down. “I’ve got to talk to Miss Law some more. You want to go grab you a bite to eat, Hank?”
The older deputy slid Kellan a telling glance, but he didn’t say anything, just lifted his stooped shoulders in a shrug. Nodding at Kellan, he started the car and shoved it into reverse, an odd smile dancing on his mouth.
“I’m as transparent as glass,” he muttered, straightening back up and pushing his hand through his hair.
Kellan glanced down at his clothes and then scowled as he realized what he was doing. The button-down and blue jeans were standard work clothes for him, topped with a blazer when he absolutely had to. If it was good enough to wear to work, then it should be good enough to go and talk to somebody related to his case.