When Emory twisted the doorknob, the wind slammed the door open and rain pelted his face. “Not going to rain, huh?”
Jeff followed him onto the rooftop of the Godfrey Tower. “I’m not a weatherman. Why would you listen to me about that? I’m still not sure what we’re doing back up here. If there was a clue here, your ex-partner must’ve found it, and that’s why he arrested Peter West.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that. Wayne medaled in jumping to conclusions. I saw something the last time we were here and didn’t think anything of it…” Emory stopped in his tracks and pointed. “Oh my god!”
“Did you find something?” Jeff looked to where his partner pointed, and a grin stretched across his face.
“Are you kidding me?!” screeched Emory. “The bus stop wasn’t bad enough?”
The object of his consternation was the huge rooftop billboard. Gone was the hair product ad, and in its place was now one for Mourning Dove Investigations. It was similar to the bus stop ad he had seen days ago, but in this one, his face was gigantic.
A beaming Jeff proclaimed, “It looks amazing!”
“It looks ridiculous!” Emory threw up his hands and forced his eyes to look away. “Forget it. We have a rock to find.” He headed toward the flagpole near the edge of the roof, to where he had tripped before.
“A rock? Is that why you brought me up here?”
Emory searched the rooftop. “Remember what Randy Graham was telling us about his holistic counseling? He uses meditation and visualization to help them overcome their obstacles. What do you want to bet he had Corey meditating up here to overcome his fear? Virginia got me thinking about it when I saw her meditating with a crystal. Here it is!” Emory found the rock in a puddle of fresh rainwater and held it up.
Jeff shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s a rock.”
“It’s rutilated quartz. See the brown filaments in it. It’s used in holistic circles to overcome phobias.”
“Okay, if that was Corey’s, you really think he could make it this close to the edge?”
Emory’s attention was drawn to an incessant clanging. The weeping wind was blowing the short rope dangling from the flagpole’s pulley, causing the snap hook near top to bang against the aluminum pole. “The halyard.”
“Halyard?”
“The rope. He could’ve used it as a crutch, a security blanket.”
Jeff stretched to grab the end of the rope as it swayed in the wind. “You saw him. He was a short guy. He wouldn’t have been able to reach this. It’s not even long enough to hoist a flag up. That’s why the pole’s empty.” He felt the tip. “This rope’s been cut.”
Emory extended his arm. “Hold my hand.”
Jeff smirked. “You want to fool around up here?”
“I need you to steady me.” Emory poked his head over the edge to look at the wood-covered window below. Once he erected himself again, he faced Jeff with a wild look in his eyes. “I know what happened!”
“Well? Spill!”
“First, let’s search every possible hiding spot up here.”
“What are we looking for?”
Emory pointed at the flagpole. “The rest of that rope.”
The two PIs split up to search the roof, and within three minutes, Emory heard a pronouncement from the other side of a ventilation system. “I found something!” He met Jeff to find he had removed one of the panels from the side of the system. He grabbed something from inside it. “It’s a gym bag.”
“Open it up.”
Jeff pulled from it some blue fabric. “It’s a blanket.”
Emory thought back to Virginia’s meditation mat. “Maybe Corey sat on it to meditate.”
Jeff removed a long length of rope from the bag. “The rope!”
Emory grabbed the rope and returned to the flagpole, followed by Jeff. He held the end dangling from the pole. “It matches! Not only that, but notice how it doesn’t stretch. It’s Kevlar.”
Jeff slapped the right side of his butt and clenched his fist. “Hot damn! Like the fibers Cathy found in Corey’s hand!”
“This proves it was murder. Here’s my theory. Randy Graham was helping Corey overcome his acrophobia by having him come to the rooftop of the building, where he meditated during his breaks, or judging from the time of his death, before he started work each day. He probably began near the door the first time, gradually working his way closer to the edge each time he meditated. He eventually made it to the edge, but he would hold onto the flagpole rope as a security blanket. The day of his murder, someone followed him up here, likely waiting for him to be in full meditation before approaching him. Here, sit down like you’re meditating.”
Jeff reached out a hand. “Give me your jacket.”
“Why?” Emory started unbuttoning his black field jacket.
“The ground’s wet. I need something to sit on.”
Emory took a step back. “You’re not going to sit on my jacket!”
Jeff waved a hand over the rooftop. “The water’s not going to hurt it. If it does, we’ll stop by the thrift store and get you another one.”
“Use your own jacket.”
Jeff patted the breast of his pea coat. “This doesn’t touch the ground.”
“Then just pretend you’re sitting!”
“Fine!” Jeff crouched, facing the edge. Emory continued, playing the part of the murderer. “So the killer came up from behind Corey Melton, grabbed the back of his collar and his belt and then flung him over the edge before he had time to react.”
Playing Corey, Jeff stood and pretended to be hurled toward the edge. “The killer would have to know that Corey came up here, and he’d have to be strong enough to throw him.”
Emory nodded. “Like you said, Corey was a small man.”
“That doesn’t explain how he crashed through the window. He would’ve still fallen straight down.”
“Not if he held onto the rope and was hurled out far enough. He would’ve shot away from the building, and once the rope was taut, he would’ve come flying back toward the building, giving him enough speed to crash through the window.”
Jeff picked up the story, “Once he did, the killer drew the rope back, cut it off and hid any evidence of Corey being on the roof. That explains the rope burns on his palms.”
“Except he didn’t pay any attention to the rock, just like we didn’t the first time up here.” Emory saw Jeff grinning at him. “What?”
“We did it! We know how he died.”
“Now it’s just a matter of figuring out who.”
Jeff reached again for the rope dangling from the pole. “The killer has to be at least six-foot tall to reach where the rope was cut.”
“And strong enough to hurl Corey at least ten feet from the building. That narrows our list of suspects. Peter West definitely fits that description, and the TBI must have something on him to have arrested him.”
“True, but I wouldn’t close the case based on your ex-partner’s assumptions. Randy Graham is about six-one, he’s strong enough and he could’ve known Corey was coming up here.”
“Again, we’re lacking motive. There’s also Corey’s boss, Darren Gleeson, although he has no apparent motive either.”
“Don’t forget Lady Macbeth, and she does have a motive – so Frank could move ahead at work. Is that it for our suspect list?”
“Your friend from the museum could’ve done it, but he has no known motive.”
Jeff grabbed his own neck at the mention of the man who held a knife to his throat. “He definitely has a hair trigger on that anger of his.”
“Plus, I still have a couple of people to check off my list of ejected land owners because they weren’t home the other day.”
“I have one of those too. We should get to those after we leave here, so we can hopefully have a complete suspect pool to focus on.”
“Agreed.”
Jeff advanced toward his partner and stole a kiss. Emory didn’t fight it, but he did end it. “See, this is exactly the type of thing we shouldn’t be doing now that we’re working together.”
“Why n—” Jeff didn’t have time to finish his question as Emory’s lips returned to his to deliver a longer, more passionate kiss.
Emory backed away and shook his head. “I don’t know. You always do this. You confuse me.”
“I’ve never had more clarity.” Jeff wrapped his arms around Emory’s waist. “How about we put that blanket to use?”
“Here?”
“Why not? It’s the tallest building. No one will see us.”
“It’s raining.”
“Which makes it sexier.”
“It’s freezing rain.” Emory broke from him. “And we can’t have sex on evidence. Crap, I need to call Wayne.”
“Way to ruin the moment. Why would you mention his name now, and why on Earth would you call him?”
“We have to turn the evidence over to the TBI.”
“What? Why?”
“Keeping it would be tampering with evidence.”
“Haven’t we already done that?”
“We have an obligation to let the proper authorities know. I’m calling.” Emory pulled out his phone and called. “Voicemail.”
“He’s probably screening.”
Emory left a message and returned his attention to Jeff. “If I don’t hear from him in fifteen minutes, I’ll call the police and let them take care of it.” Before putting away his phone, he looked again at the text from his lawyer and thought, I don’t know what to do. Do I trust Anderson Alexander, or was the offer just to get me to drop the lawsuit? If I take him up on it, would he find another way to get rid of me? What about Jeff? What would this do to him? To us?
“Hello!” Jeff waved his hand in front of Emory’s face. “Are you zoning out on me?”
“Sorry. Just thinking. Hey, would you want to come over to my place for dinner tonight?”
Jeff brandished an incredulous look. “Man, you’re giving me mixed signals here.”
“Sorry, but I can explain it tonight.”
“Explain what…” Jeff’s words drifted off when he saw two men come through the door to the roof – Wayne Buckwald and Steve Linders.
Emory turned to see what had captured Jeff’s attention. “Wow, that was fast.”
Steve must have overheard him. “Wayne just got your voicemail. We were downstairs to talk to Darren Gleeson, but the office is closed.”
Emory greeted him with a handshake. “Today’s Corey’s funeral.”
Steve nodded. “That explains it.”
“Stop telling them stuff!” Wayne moved between his partner and the PIs. “Where’s this evidence you found?”
Emory and Jeff showed them the items and where they found them, as well as how the rope matched the rope on the flagpole. Emory shared their theory of how Corey was killed.
Steve congratulated Emory with a literal pat on the back. “Thank you for your help. We knew Peter did it and why, but we didn’t know exactly how.”
“What makes you certain Peter did it?” asked Jeff.
Wayne got in his partner’s face. “Stop telling them things!” He thrust his arm in the air with his index finger inches from Emory’s face. “This asshole was drummed out of the bureau for good reason! He’s a lying son-of-a-bitch.”
Jeff shoved his body in front of Emory. Looking down into Wayne’s beady eyes, he snarled, “If you don’t want to see firsthand the scenic route Corey took to the twenty-ninth floor, I suggest you holster that stubby little finger!”
Trying to look unfazed, Wayne couldn’t hide the sudden nervousness in his glare. “Are you threatening an officer of the law?”
Emory scooched in between them. “No, he’s not. Jeff, take a breather.”
Jeff walked away as his phone started to ring. “Hello?”
Emory turned his attention back to his former partner. “Wayne, we were never friends, but I was a good partner. What did I ever do to you?”
“You weren’t a partner! You were a glory hog. Well, you’re not getting any of it this time. I’m warning you. Stay away from my investigation!”
“I never threw myself into the limelight.”
“Well you made damn sure I didn’t get any of it!” Wayne pointed to the billboard. “And you’re really going to say that while your twenty-foot face is staring down at us?!”
“Emory!” Grinning, Jeff hurried back to them. “I have some great news.”
Emory looked over his shoulder at the embarrassing billboard. “I had nothing to do with that.”
Jeff grabbed Emory’s arm and led him away. “Forget about him. I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it?”
“I got us booked on New Dawn, Knoxville! Tomorrow morning.”
“What?”
“They’re devoted a segment to Mourning Dove.”
Emory was surprised but didn’t share Jeff’s excitement. “No way. I can’t do it.”
“Don’t start panicking. Virginia and I will be right there with you. Just take a pill before you go on, and you’ll be fine.”
Emory frowned. That reminds me, I need to get a refill.
Naked, Emory emerged from the bathroom, his lean, muscular body still steaming from the shower. He saw a blinking light emitting from the phone on his desk and checked it to see a text from Jeff that read, “Might be late. You must be rubbing off on me.”
Emory smiled. “Jerk.” He read the text from his lawyer again and debated how he would answer. Why am I hesitating? I know what I want. It’s all I ever wanted. I could be back at the TBI doing what I was meant to do. Besides, if Jeff and I weren’t working together, there’d be no more conflict. He could see it as a good thing. He shook his head and sighed. “Who am I kidding?”
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Crap!” He peered through the peephole. “Jeff, hang on!” He ran to the bedroom, threw on a pair of boxers and returned to greet his guest.
Jeff took one look and quipped, “I thought we were going to eat first.”
“I thought you were going to be late.”
Stepping inside, Jeff produced a bouquet of blue roses. “I didn’t know how long it would take to get you these.”
“Oh wow. I’ve never seen blue roses. They’re beautiful.” Emory held the flowers to his nose and inhaled. “Subtle scent.”
Jeff grinned. “Like their bearer.”
Laughing, Emory took the bouquet to the kitchen. “Beautiful, yes, but I wouldn’t say you have a subtle scent. I don’t think I have a vase.”
“What, do I stink?” Jeff sniffed his underarms.
Emory found a lemonade pitcher in a cabinet. “This will work. No, you don’t stink. The opposite actually.” He half-filled the pitcher with water.
Jeff cocked his head. “I’ll take that. Is it too sappy, bringing you flowers?”
“Not at all.” Emory couldn’t help but grin as he placed the pitcher with roses on his kitchen counter. “I think it’s a wonderful surprise. As a matter of fact, I’ve got a surprise for you too.”
“For me? What is it?”
“Later. Would you like a drink?”
“Sure. V—”
“Vodka cranberry. I remember.”
While Emory mixed the drink and a gin and tonic for himself, Jeff picked up Emory’s anxiety medication from the counter and shook the empty bottle. “How long have you been on this stuff?”
Emory lied. “A couple of years.”
“You’ve been seeing a psychiatrist for two years?”
Emory served Jeff’s drink with a garnish of annoyance. “Thereabouts.”
“Because of whatever happened to you as a kid?” Jeff waited a few seconds for response. “Why won’t you tell me what happened to you?”
“I will. One day. Maybe I’ll even let you read my journal. Moving on.” Emory clinked his glass against Jeff’s. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Jeff sipped from his drink “You keep a diary?”
Emory sighed at the persistence of the subject. “I kept a journal. My first psychiatrist made me keep one to write down everything that had happened. To help me get through it.” Emory noticed Jeff’s eyes darting about the place. “Don’t bother looking for it. It’s at my parents’ house.”
“I wasn’t looking for it.”
“Uh-huh. Changing subjects. Are you ready for your surprise?”
“Should I sit down for it?”
“Sure, but I mean, it’s not anything big.”
Jeff plopped onto the couch and waved off his concern. “I was born with no preconceived notions.”
Emory gulped his drink. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into his bedroom, leaving Jeff to his vodka-fueled imagination. Four minutes later, Emory reemerged wearing the cowboy hat and outfit from the picture used in the ad campaign.
Jeff’s jaw dropped, and he rose to his feet. “Oh. My. God. I thought you didn’t have this anymore.”
“I lied.”
“Can I ask you a favor?”
Emory stepped closer to him. “What is it?”
“Can we postpone dinner for a few hours?”
As Emory led him into the bedroom, he didn’t notice the blinking red light hovering outside his window.