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“It was because of the car accident,” Aubree mumbles, not all that invested as she cuts a careful line in Anna’s torso and slips a thermometer in to gauge the body’s temperature.
But when Minka remains silent, Aubree glances up. “The car accident,” she repeats. “It was on the news.”
“I don’t…” Minka looks across at me, shaking her head ever so gently. “I don’t know about the car accident.”
“Anna Switzer is a pop singer,” I supply. Because Minka Mayet is not one to keep up with entertainment news and gossip magazines. “She regularly hits number one on the charts. When she drops a new single, the internet freezes, and her downloads are in the billions. When she releases a whole album, her fandom stops and listens to every single note.
“Anna is twenty-seven years old,” I continue, for Mayet, and for the record. “Single. Only child. Deceased parents. She was briefly married, back when she was twenty-two or twenty-three, to a rockstar who,” I look to Fletch, as though for confirmation, “I believe, is now a father to, like, two dozen kids. The marriage lasted only months before the dude was caught cheating on her. So she got a divorce, wrote a bunch of songs about him, and got her revenge via royalties in the bank.”
Minka catalogues each tidbit of information I give her with a lifted brow and flattened lips. “You know a lot about a popstar you don’t actually know, Detective Malone.”
Guilt makes my stomach roll. Momentary fear makes my throat dry. “Well…”
Her accusing eyes snap up and burn into mine. “Do you know your victim, Detective Malone?” She ignores Aubree as the other woman finishes with the thermometer and straightens her back to write numbers in a notebook. “Is your relationship to the victim going to be an issue for this investigation?” she bites out. “Detective Malone.”
“There was no relationship.” I roll my eyes and glance toward the doorway as CSUs wander through. “I met her once, late last year. I managed to get backstage passes to one of her shows. We were introduced. We chatted for twenty minutes or so.”
“Twentyminutes?” Minka echoes. But it’s not mild curiosity in her tone. “Twenty minutes can be a very long time, Detective.”
Like ping pongs being flung across the bed over the top of a dead woman, questions and implications fly back and forth between my wife and I. Fletch and Aubree merely watch on. Captivated, and yet, too cowardly to interject.
“Just talking,” I reiterate. “We were both single. Healthy. Some would even say attractive and observant. We hung out before a show. She gave me her number and asked that I give her a call so we could meet up again. She was touring the country, but would be in Copeland for the next few weeks, so the ball was in my court to make contact and organize something.”
“A beautiful, successful, wildly famous popstar wanted to,” she lifts her gloved hands and makes the finger quotes, “hang outwith you. But you didn’t follow through? Why not?”
Jesus. Anyone would thinkshe’sthe cop.
“Because I met my wife, Chief.” I stare deep into her eyes and smirk, knowing she’s gonna feel like a dick later. “The day after the show, my partner and I were working on a case that had us running through the airport. I met a woman who would eventually become my wife. So I lost Anna’s number and never went searching for it again.”
Minka’s eyes shutter, from jealousy to sweet contentment in an instant.
But I look to Fletch instead and raise a brow. “My relationship with the victim is non-existent. We met once. The only physical contact we ever had was a handshake that night we met. I hadn’t spoken to her before, nor after that evening.”
Then I bring my gaze back to Minka. “A few weeks prior to that show, Switzer was in a high-speed car thing, where the paparazzi were hounding her for pictures. What started out as a date, with Switzer in a wig and oversized sunglasses, turned into a guy who intentionally leaked their whereabouts to the press, and a manhunt that ended with a car accident.”
“Which guy?” Minka demands. “Who leaked their location?”
“Walter James,” Fletch inserts. “Her date. He’s a reality show wannabe, and knew his star would rise higher if he was hitting the tabloids with Anna on his arm.”
“Herdate?” Minka growls. “The one who was supposed to keep her safe was ultimately the one who betrayed her? What an asshole.”
“Happens every day,” Fletch rumbles. “People want success more than they want love. Walter got what he wanted: front page news coverage, and deals that made him very rich, very quickly. But Anna was the doll of this city, beloved by millions. So when word got out that he was the snitch, his career died. Cancel culture,” he adds with a shiver. “Overnight deletion.”
“Sounds like possible motive to me,” Aubree says. “This could be suicide, accidental or intentional.Or,” she adds extra emphasis, “it could be homicide. And a wannabe TV star whose career was torpedoed in one night…?”
“Speculation,” Minka cuts in firmly.
She leans over her second in charge and reads the notes Aubree makes on paper. “Estimated time of death sits between seven and nine last night. There are no defensive wounds.” She picks up Anna’s manicured hand and studies beneath her nails. “No DNA to pull. There’s nothing here. She wasn’t pushed down. Wasn’t tied up. Vic wasn’t forced to this bed in any way that would indicate a struggle.” Carefully, she places Anna’s hand back where it began: resting on her stomach. “It’s entirely possible your vic walked here under her own volition, laid down, swallowed these pills—accidentally or on purpose—and went to sleep.”
She glances to Aubree. “Contact Doctor Raquel in the tox lab and have her on standby. We’re going to want this one run quickly and discreetly.”
Turning away from the bed and wandering toward a massive, arched window on the north wall of the bedroom, she looks outside to what I know is dozens, perhaps hundreds, of news vans, already queuing up for a scoop.
“This case needs to be dealt with delicately.” Turning her back to the window, she looks to me. “I’m sorry for your loss, Detective. A friend is a friend, no matter how brief the connection.”
* * *
“No forced entry.” While Minka and Aubree stay with Anna’s body upstairs, Fletch and I inspect the front door and continue our investigation. “Security system was set at six last night, and not touched again until the maid came in this morning and discovered the body.”
