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“Saw something like it on a body a buncha years back,” he told me, tone still as conversational as if we’d been talking about whether the Saints would win the Super Bowl again this year. “Guy got jumped in the bathroom at Rosie’s Roadhouse and after he got a good beatdown they shoved his head into the john and drowned his ass.”
I had to shudder. I’d been in the women’s bathroom at Rosie’s before and had been completely grossed out. I doubted that the men’s room was any classier.
“Dude put up a fight,” Scott said, “but whoever was holding him had a solid grip. So solid that his scalp tore a bit during the struggle.”
I breathed a curse, my eyes on the body of Roger. “Same thing here, right?” I asked. Scott nodded. “I told him to be careful,” I muttered. “I told him to not go anywhere by himself.”
“Then he shoulda listened to you better,” Scott replied with a scowl. Then he shook his head. “But I know it’s gonna eat you up for a while. I get it.”
I gave him a small smile. This was why he was one of my favorite people. “Thanks, Scott. So, can you give me the gist?”
He jerked a thumb toward the other officer. “I’ll let Gordon do the honors. He’s my latest trainee, and I’m actually not worried that he’s going to shoot me by accident. Can you believe it? We might have a keeper here!”
Officer Gordon gave me an amused smile and extended a hand. “Tracy Gordon. Pleasure to meet you, Detective. Sergeant Glassman says you’re not clueless, which I understand is one of his highest compliments.”
I gave a low laugh and shook his hand. He had a lovely rich baritone that I could have listened to all day. “I have him thoroughly snowed. Good to meet you.”
He winked, then released my hand and flipped open his notebook. “A Ms. Jeanne Henry, white female, forty-three years old, was out walking her dog at approximately oh-nine-thirty. Her dog, Scooper, a three-year-old Labradoodle, began to pull at the leash and bark and led her to this point where she saw the victim facedown in the ditch.”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “What the hell is a Labradoodle, and how did you know it was three years old?” I asked, mildly incredulous.
His lips twitched. “A Labradoodle is a cross between a Labrador and a Poodle. I asked Ms. Henry how old the dog was—”
Scott interrupted with a snort. “No, Kara, I wish you could have seen this. Gordon here is the smoothest of the smooth talkers. This lady was spilling everything she knew about everything. In another couple minutes he coulda convinced her to give up her account numbers and passwords!”
Officer Gordon merely smiled and dropped his eyes back to his notebook. “Ms. Henry advised that she is an ER nurse, and that as soon as she saw the victim she climbed down and pulled him out of the water and attempted to resuscitate. However, she realized fairly quickly that rigor had begun to set in and ceased her resuscitation attempt. At this time she dialed nine-one-one on her cell phone and notified our agency. EMS responded at oh-nine-forty-seven and verified death. Sergeant Glassman and I arrived at oh-nine-fifty-four and secured the scene.”
I shot a look to Scott. “What do you want to bet ... a year and a half before he’s recruited to come to Investigations?”
“If that!” he replied sourly.
I gave Officer Gordon a nod. “You have contact info for the witness?”>I scowled. “Pellini, if this is some kind of bullshit stunt—”
He actually looked pained. “It’s not. I just need to talk to you. I swear I’m not pulling anything.”
I gave him my best “I don’t trust you farther than I can throw you” look, but went ahead and stepped into the copy room. He came in behind me and shut the door while I regarded him with narrowed eyes, but to my surprise his face held nothing but something that looked an awful lot like concern.
“What’s up, Pellini?”
He licked his lips in a strange show of nervousness. “That guy you’re with. How do you know him?”
“You mean Detective Knight? He’s on the task force.”
Pellini shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Look, I know you and I have never really clicked,” he said in a low urgent voice while I tried to keep my eyebrows from climbing up to my hairline. Clicked? That was putting it mildly. “But I gotta warn you about that guy. About Knight.”
My bullshit defenses were in high gear at this point. “Go on.”
“He’s weird,” Pellini said. “Seriously strange shit.” He paused. “I mean, you’re weird too, but your weirdness is kinda entertaining, but his is seriously fucking creepy.” He shuddered while I stared at him, at a complete loss for words. I was an entertaining weird?
“What ...” I tried. “Um ...” Nope. Couldn’t think of a single coherent response.
“He knows shit,” Pellini continued. “I worked with him at NOPD, and ...” He shook his head. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’m telling you, don’t hang out with him too much. Trust me on this.”
“Trust you on this,” I echoed, unable to keep the disbelief out of my voice.
He looked briefly chagrined. “Yeah. I swear I’m not fucking with you. I’ve just ... well, I’ve seen him fuck people up bad, telling them things ...” He trailed off and scrubbed a hand over his face, then took a deep breath. “I know you got no reason to believe me or trust me. But, uh, I kinda get the feeling you got a lot of secrets. I’m just sayin’ that sometimes secrets don’t stay so secret around that guy.”
“Okay,” I managed after several heartbeats. “Why are you telling me this? I mean ... why do you give a fuck about me and ... my secrets.”
