Marc (Bowen Boys, #4)(2)
When she woke the next time, it took her several seconds to realize she was safe. She calmed her cat down with soothing words and stood up. Looking out the window, she saw a lone car in the lot next to her. Moving to the front of the building, she watched to see how much traffic there was and decided that the few cars that went by were far enough apart that she could do what she needed.
She moved out of the basement window and made sure that she closed the entrance up again. Moving along the back of the buildings, she watched for one that looked to be occupied but empty of people. She found one about three blocks from her new home.
Finding the same kind of low window at the basement, she broke the glass and waited. A cruiser went by once but didn’t stop. She waited another twenty minutes and moved into the building. It wasn’t until she was inside that she realized that it was an old shop that seemed to deal in used clothing. Excited but careful, she shifted to cat and moved through the showroom floor to the offices in the back, thinking that the black cat would be hard to see. She looked around for any sort of video equipment and even searched through the mess on the desk. She decided that anyone this messy and unorganized wouldn’t have a clue what they had on the floor. She went to the bags of stuff the person had tossed on the floor first. Shifting back to herself, she looked around at the piles of things.
She decided this was to be thrown out. There was nothing worth saving even if she was going to wear it around her new apartment. Zippers had been removed and buttons taken off. She did find a pair of tennis shoes that fit her but they had no laces. Even so, she put them in a pile she was going to take with her. Next, she moved to the floor. She found out why the zippers had been removed before being tossed out.
The owner was selling them as “vintage.” She knew what the word meant but she doubted that the owner did. They were used, not old. She moved to a section someone had marked as “the ladies” and looked for something suitable to wear. She flinched every time someone’s lights shined in the front window.
She had five blouses, three pairs of pants, and a pair of shoes. She found a nice sweater and had a jacket but couldn’t make the zipper work well and put it back, wondering if it would end up in the bag of trash and the zipper in his vintage pile. There were panties and bras as well, but she refused to think what sort of person would wear used under things. Moving to the back of the store where the basement access was, she looked at the cash register again.
She needed money. But did she need it more than the person selling these things? Jonny looked around the store and decided that the owner needed it more. Going out before she convinced herself that she did need it, she slipped out of the basement encasement. Making sure that the window wouldn’t let anyone else in, she stuffed all her things into a bag she’d taken as well and made her way back to the apartment.
There was a woman in the alley this time. She was moving along the lone car as if she were drunk. Jonny waited until she was out of sight before she moved to the window again and inside. She was exhausted and moved straight to her room. Laying down, she got back up and hung all her clothes in the bare closet with some of the hangers she’d found, and then lay back down. There was something very personal about having her own clothes in her own closet. She was asleep within minutes.
~~~
“Do we know what killed her?” Marc looked at his team when no one answered. “We have to have something on this. The murder happened three days ago.”
“The guy I have at the station says it was a wild dog. I don’t know, he seemed fascinated with the idea that there might be a wild dog on the loose.” Dewey Ortiz shifted in his chair and handed him a picture. “I don’t think a dog would have done that one, boss. More likely a man with a rake.”
Marc looked at the picture carefully. He was right, it looked like a rake. He looked up at Mia when she walked in. She didn’t look pleased, which, looking at her in the later part of her pregnancy, he could see why. She was carrying twins and looked like she needed a hoist to help her move.
“Hey girl,” he grinned at her. “You look very fetching in that blouse. What have you got for me?”
“I have the autopsy report on Miss Rutledge. According to the report, she was shot once in the back of the head, and then her body was mutilated with a sharp instrument, probably a rake or some other evenly spaced equipment.”
He grinned at Dewey when he yelled, then looked back at Mia. She sat down hard in the chair next to him and glared. He waited for her to start on him. Marc had had a lot of practice lately with hormonal women during pregnancy. He had three sisters-in-law. He was getting well versed on when to say something and when to run. He wished now he could run.
“I do not look ‘fetching.’ I look like a beached whale after four days in the sun. And if one more person says to me I look ready to ‘pop,’ I will pull my gun and ‘pop’ the f*ck out of them.” He barely refrained from laughing, but one of his team did not. “If you say one word, one single word to me Dennis, I will shoot you.”
He nodded and sat very still. She looked back at Marc, and before he could tell her that he still had no replacement for her, the front doorbell sounded. She got up with a “don’t move” and left them. Dennis asked if she was all right.
“She wants to go home and put her feet up and say to hell with this job, but she won’t until we find someone to replace her. Anyone have someone they can recommend? She’s going to kill us all if we don’t.”