Burton tossed the remote control onto the coffee table and glanced at the Seth Thomas clock hanging on the wall, Diane’s design choices left over from a happier time. It was ten o’clock.
Had there ever been a happier time?
He glanced at his cellphone on the coffee table next to the remote. She’d only called twice today—both unanswered. Maybe she was getting the message. Maybe she was just trying a different tactic. The dog lay stretched out on the sofa, her chin on her front paws. Her round dark eyes followed him whenever he moved. He figured she was some kind of hybrid. He always assumed if he ever got a dog it would either be a big old mutt or a lab of some kind. This little bit of fluff looked like it had just crawled out of a sorority girl’s handbag.
He got up from the couch and walked to the large picture window overlooking Peachtree Creek. A mile past his backyard—mostly creek and a steep hill where nothing grew—he could see the lights from an outlier AT&T office building. If he stepped onto his back deck, he’d feel the rush of a Georgia autumn in full swing—and the roar of I-85 as if it were detouring around him.
The house had been built right after the Second World War. The rooms were small. There was a mudroom off the kitchen…he heard they were back in style again. He had a galley kitchen he had only stood in long enough to brew a cup of coffee before work.
Guess he’d have more time now. He could brew two cups.
He couldn’t help see the differences in how he and Kazmaroff lived. Could two people be more different? And doesn’t that account for why they didn’t mesh?
Except, where it counted, he knew they had meshed. In fact, they’d meshed so well they held the record of more cases solved in the history of the Atlanta PD in one calendar year.
He turned away from the darkened view of the creek below his window. At this time of night, with a waning moon, all he could see was the reflective glitter of the water as it channeled over the rocks and low banks. Not much of a place to bring a new bride, he reflected. Diane hadn’t seemed to care. In the beginning, she’d tried to plant annuals on the steep backyard slope before giving up. She even put a line of crepe myrtles in the front yard during those early years. Burton had a fondness for crepe myrtles.
His phone vibrated against the wooden coffee table. Speak of the devil, he thought as he picked up the phone to peer at the screen.
But it was Karen, the department medical examiner.
“Hey,” he said into the phone, reseating himself on the couch.
“So, is it true? Did you really quit?”
“Yeah, I did.” Burton liked Karen. She had a good head on her shoulders and she was uncomplicated. She’d made it clear on several occasions that she’d be up for a friends with benefits relationship if that’s all that was on offer. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t interested. She had a great body, firm in all the right places. Maybe a little too muscular…
“I can’t tell you how flabbergasted I was when I heard. I thought it had to be a vicious rumor. What the hell, Jack?”
“Hard to explain,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Kind of a spur of the moment sorta thing.”
“I’m sure Maxwell would reinstate you, no loss of pension…”
“Yeah, well, maybe it wasn’t that spur of the moment,” he said.
“You didn’t like your job? You were so good at it. It’s just hard to believe.”
“Well, there you are. I’ll miss you, Karen.” Why the hell did he say that?
“You don’t have to, Jack.”
He let the moment pass, not knowing what to say, or what she wanted him to say.
“Can I ask what your plans are?” she asked briskly. “You’re not independently wealthy, are you?”
Jack gave a mirthless laugh. “Nope. I need to find a job.”
“You had a job.”
“Obviously I need to find a different job.”
“It’s just, you do see how bizarre this is, don’t you? For a year, you lobby to get rid of Dave Kazmaroff and then, when he dies, you quit?”
“This isn’t the way I wanted to get rid of him.”
“Granted, but the end result is the same. Why does him passing away translate into you abandoning your career?”
“Did he really ‘pass away?’ Is that really your professional opinion?”
“Jack, I told you, everything came back negative. Yes, he’d had some alcohol in his system but that’s it.”
“No barbiturates?”
“We didn’t test for barbiturates because his condo came up clean. Ibuprofen and aspirin were all he had and neither was present in his system. How does Kazmaroff dying mysteriously affect your desire to stay on the force?”
“I don’t know. It was a surprise to me, too.”
“Got any ideas what you’re going to do now?”
Burton felt the conversation wearing on him. There was greater than a slight possibility that Karen was hoping to set up a time to get together. Maybe even tonight.
“Thought I’d look into being a personal chef,” he said, yawning.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“Why? You don’t think I can cook?”
“Fine, Jack. You don’t want to talk about it, fine. I’m just calling like any friend would who sees someone they care about going off the rails.”
“And I appreciate that, Karen. I do,” he said softly.
The living room flooded briefly with light as it did when someone’s headlights pointed in the direction of Burton’s front drive. He stood up and looked out the window. He didn’t recognize the car as the blinding headlights snapped off but getting unannounced visitors was unusual.
“Looks like I’ve got company,” he said into the phone. “Can we pick this up another time? Really appreciate you calling.”
“Sure, Jack,” she said, her disappointment telegraphing through the line.
Burton disconnected and held the phone in his hand as he went to the front door. It was Mia Kazmaroff. He watched her walk up to his front porch like she had a serious bone to pick with someone. He probably should let her take some of it out on his front door knocker before engaging with her but she could see him standing in the living room.
He opened the front door. “Miss Kazmaroff,” he said.
She pushed past him into the foyer and then stood there taking in the small living room and adjoining dining room. He could tell she was worked up, and he could tell she’d been drinking.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” she said, more to his living room than to him. “Dave’s death was not an accident. I don’t know why the Atlanta PD is saying it is, but I know for a fact that it wasn’t.”
“May I offer you a beverage, Miss Kazmaroff? A ride home?”
She turned to glare at him. He’d been right to be worried earlier. Just standing this close to her stirred up something deep in his gut that felt like a starving man with a T-bone. She was wearing a snug knit dress that hugged every curve from her shoulder to her calves. No cleavage or length of thigh showing but he literally had to dig his nails into his palm to keep from pulling her to him and feeling that tightly-strung, perfect body in his arms.
“I had one cocktail,” she said, frowning.
“For people who weigh not much more than yourself, one is enough.”
After giving him a look of disgust, she walked into the living room and dropped her purse on the couch. The little dog inched over to her, her tail wagging for the first time since Jack had rescued her.
“Who decorated for you?” Mia asked. “It doesn’t look like a bachelor’s pad.”
“You mean it doesn’t look like your brother’s condo.”
She pulled the dog onto her lap as if they were old friends and began to massage it behind its floppy ears. “My brother lived life as a single man,” she said. “I don’t like to put labels on people so I won’t.” She glanced at him still standing in the foyer. “You of all people should appreciate that.”
Touché.
“This dog was abused.” She looked at him questioningly and he nodded. He shut the front door and joined her in the living room. “You and Dave,” she said as he joined her in the living room. “I suppose two bachelors couldn’t be more different.”
Amazing. Just what I was thinking. Burton sat opposite her in one of the matching armchairs.
“I’ve decided to move into Dave’s place. He left it to me.” She leaned toward him suddenly. “You were his partner. If anybody should be trying to get to the bottom of what happened to him, it’s you.”
“The case is closed.”
“Which means nothing. I know for a fact you two continued to investigate cases that were officially closed.”
It was true. They never let a little thing like protocol get in the way of what they believed. Come to think of it, they did have that in common. They usually agreed about a case. That special sense a good detective has, he and Dave shared that.
“I’m no longer a detective,” he said, holding out his hands as if to reveal how utterly helpless he was.
“You’re no longer an Atlanta police department detective,” she said. “For what I need, that doesn’t matter.” She placed the dog on the floor but it jumped back up on the couch to sit next to her.
“The answer is no, Miss Kazmaroff.”
“No, it isn’t, Detective Burton,” she said fiercely. “The answer is Thank you, Mia for giving me a chance to wipe the slate clean. The answer is Of course, Miss Kazmaroff because I know I owe you and your brother.”
“How do you figure that?” Burton felt his hand reaching for a shirt pocket where a pack of cigarettes used to be kept. Ten years ago.
“I figure it, Detective,” she said, her eyes flashing and a flush blooming in her cheeks, “because no matter how he died you know you let him down and I figure that’s true or you’d still be happily employed by Atlanta’s finest.”
He stared at her for a moment, wanting to deny it. He licked his lips.
“What is it you think I can do for you?” he said finally.
“Help me prove that Dave was murdered.”
“And if there’s no evidence to support that?”
“There is. We just have to find it.”
“What makes you think he was murdered?”
“I felt it,” she said, looking away for the first time since she sat down. In Burton’s experience, that usually indicated a lie was coming.
“You felt it.”
She stood up and picked up her purse. “You have contacts on the force you can still access. Your friend the medical examiner, for example.”
How the hell did she know about Karen?
“And while I’m reliably informed you don’t have many friends on the force—good going, by the way. Ever see a pattern developing?—you probably have one or two contacts who can be convinced to get into the APD database for you. And that would be helpful going forward in your new occupation.”
“My new occupation?” Although he was confused and slightly agitated by her preposterous take-charge attitude, he was also too mesmerized by her to turn away.
“You’re opening up a Private Investigations Agency with me,” she said bluntly.
“Pardon?”
With a heavy sigh, Mia sat back down and spoke more slowly, as if to someone mentally challenged. “The condo my brother left me is over a store front—”
“I saw it during the investigation.”
“Okay, good. Very observant. That’ll come in handy as an investigator.”
Burton wanted to grin at her sarcasm and realized he was actually enjoying this visit. Not a good sign.
“Originally, Dave was going to rent it out and then when I lost my job at Georgia State, he offered it to me as a retail opportunity. I was thinking of opening up a knitting shop.”
“Are you sure you don’t want a drink? Because I think I could use one.”
“No, thank you. So I have an empty store front that we can use as an office.” She opened up her purse and drew out a grey business card. “This is just a prototype I did on my computer. I’ll get them printed up tomorrow.”
The card read, Burton & Kazmaroff, Private Investigations.
He looked up at her, dumfounded. “Go into business with you?”
“See, there’s that quick mind I’ve heard so much about.” She looked around the living room as if expecting to see a printing press or home office. “You don’t currently have a business, do you?” She reached over and took the card back. “I didn’t think so. Of course I have no idea if the partnership will work beyond this first case, but I can’t…we…can’t get access to certain information without being an official investigative agency registered with the state. First order of business, by the way, which I’ll ask you to handle.” She tucked the card back in her bag and stood up.
“Please don’t be a pain in the ass about this, Detective Burton,” she said. “I don’t have time to plead with you. Suffice to say, you know you owe it to Dave. You know you do.”
Burton’s mouth had fallen open and when she turned to leave, his eyes dropped to her round ass moving away from him. It wasn’t until she had her hand on the front door knob that he had the wit to get to his feet.
“I’ll expect you at the office tomorrow morning early. We’ve already wasted enough time.”
“Miss Kazmaroff—”
She turned around. “Call me Mia. I know it’s tricky but I’ll expect you to pronounce it correctly.” She waited expectantly.
“Mia,” he said, as if in a trance.
“Awesome.” She turned and walked down the walkway to her car. Burton watched her back out of the driveway until her taillights disappeared around the first street corner.
He shut the door but continued to stare out the front window trying to process what had just happened. It was because he was still standing there that he saw the long dark sedan, hidden one house past his, move silently past his house to follow her car.