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“Archer?”
Minka’s voice is softer than I’m used to. Apprehensive, when not a lot bothers her. So though I’ve started toward the stairs with the intention to head down and out, I slow my steps and peer back, and catch the usually unflappable Minka Mayet wringing her fingers.
She swallows, so her throat bobs and moves. “Be gentle with it, okay?”
“Promise.”
I turn again and knock Fletch’s arm with my elbow. Then I start down before my wife can convince me to stay by her side and let a man who may make or break our case go untouched.
“What was that?” Fletch skips steps to keep up with me, and crashes against the doorframe at the bottom to circle around and bring me to a stop. “No more secrets, Malone.”
He snatches the car keys as I pull them from my pocket, and fists them in his palm before pinning me with a look. “No secrets. So unless you went in there with Delicious to fuck, I want to know what that was all about.”
“The mayor is our number one suspect in what may or may not be a homicide case.” I steal the keys back and head through the door toward our cruiser, with Fletch close on my heels, his gasp of stunned surprise the only thing the paparazzi get for their rag columns tonight.
They’re too far away to hear my words, and as an extra precaution, I reach up to cover my mouth as I slip into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and tell my partner what the reporters would love to know.
“Mayor Lawrence called Minka, and then made us primary on this case we shouldn’t be on. He has a relationship with the vic, but wouldn’t disclose to Minka the nature of that relationship.”
“Shiiiiit.” He fixes his seatbelt and watches the side of my face as I start the car. “The fuckin mayor is mixed up in this? DA Justin Lawrence is our number one?”
“Until he discloses everything he knows.”
I pull around the circular driveway and head toward the gates swarming with security and photographers. Flashing cameras fuck with my eyes, and the presence of dozens of unconcealed guns makes my hands twitch. But I keep my expression neutral and wait for security to let us through.
“He called Mayet for a reason.” Slowly, I edge our car through the crowd. “He wanted her involved, and got us assigned too. So he either wants a favor and a cover up, or he wants the best.”
“Sure,” Fletch scoffs. “And how do you expect to get the fuckin mayor into our interview room, when said mayor was the DA before he stepped into office? He could tie us up for months if he wanted to.”
“Guess we’ll ask nicely.” I flash a smile and pull onto the road currently filled with cops and cruisers, moving traffic and ushering along the looky-loos. “He threw himself into the ring when he made those calls. Now he has to stay till the final bell.”
* * *
“What do you mean the mayor iselecting not to receive my calls?” I pace our war room and growl into my phone, while Fletch pulls up a chair at the table and kicks his feet up to find comfort.
“He doesn’t get to elect these things, Ms. Guthrie! This is Detective Archer Malone, badge number 743622. My CO is Captain Ron Bower.”And my wife is his precious Minka fucking Mayet. “I need to speak with the mayor immediately, and if he refuses, I will have a warrant issued within the hour.”
Guthrie actually snickers; arrogant and humored, when usually, she’s timid and sweet. “You won’t get that warrant for a very long time, Detective. But like I said, the mayor insists you run Ms. Switzer’s case as thoroughly and quickly as you can.”
“I’m trying! To do so, I need to speak tohim. There are questions I need answered.”
“And I have answers for you,” she repeats faux-patiently. “The mayor did not have a personal, romantic relationship with your victim. The mayor had not seen the victim in more than a week and a half prior to her death. The mayor had not spoken to the victim in as many days. The mayordidleave a message for the victim to call him yesterday, and another the day before. Both went unreturned. The mayor insists you spread your investigation wider than him, and will speak with you in due course.”
“Ms. Guthrie—”
“That is all he can give you right now, Detective Malone. Please keep us informed as your investigation progresses.”
“Ms. Guth—”
“Good luck,” she murmurs, almost sadly now. “Please figure out what happened to Ms. Switzer. I know answers will bring Mayor Lawrence comfort in an otherwise difficult time.” She pauses for a beat and exhales a soft breath before adding, “Goodbye.”
“Goddammit!” I tug the phone from my ear and scrub my fingers through my hair in frustration. “That asshole!”
“Not taking your calls?” Fletch crosses his ankles and seemingly focuses on his phone, though I know he pays total attention to me. “District Attorney Lawrence not being forthcoming with his information, even though you asked nicely?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I turn away and stare up at my whiteboard already half-filled with crime scene information. Anna’s name. Her date of birth and age at death. We’ve already tacked up images of her face the way we found it, and beside those, press images of her shows from only a week ago.
