Cause of Death by Laura Dembowski (ereader iphone .TXT) 📗

dropped. A murderer will go free. It had seemed so good, so nice, so easy to sleep with Beth in the moment, but now it’s about to make things really complicated.

At least I won’t have to stop sleeping with Beth. That’s a relief. How disgusting am I that this is the only thing I can think of right now? Not what will happen to my relationship with Tracy, or my job or my friends, but what will happen to my relationship with Beth. I was muddling through just fine, partially miserable like everyone else, until this case came along.

“Kate, you ready?” I ask as soon as I put the phone back in my pocket.

“Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Moore. You’ll be sure to let Mr. Moore know we need his sample as well, right?”

Margaret nods.

Kate walks out the door and I follow, just a few steps behind her, completely distracted.

“Detective, how are your girlfriends?” Margaret says to me as I walk by.

She catches me by surprise, startles me. I look at her; she’s smiling this evil smile. She knows. She knows.

This is bad. I shouldn’t be worried; I should be certain that I can stop this woman in her tracks, but I’m not. I knew Margaret Moore was bad news, and now I’m at the top of her shit list.

I trip on my way out the door and practically fall flat on my face.

Kate turns around, looks at me. “Serves you right,” she says, and keeps walking.

I get to the car and open the door. I slump inside, clutching on to anything that might steady me. I can’t catch my breath. I’m coughing, choking on my own saliva and the pollen-riddled air.

Kate looks at me. Not with sympathy, but not with anger either. Curiosity, maybe.

“Are you okay?” she asks impatiently, ready to drive back to the station.

“Margaret knows I’m sleeping with her sister.”

“Well, that’s bad,” Kate says stoically.

“I’ll say, and Sarge wants me back at the station. Something went down.”

“Relax,” Kate says in a soothing voice, perhaps starting to feel bad for me. “It could be anything. Just wait until we get there before you freak out.”

I don’t know why she’s being nice to me.

“I don’t know why I’m being nice to you,” she says.

At least we agree on that.

I follow Sarge into his office. He shuts the door. This is going to be bad, I just know it. Add whatever this is to whatever Margaret is going to do, or has already done, and I’m well and truly fucked.

“Sit down,” he says.

I do.

He sits next to me instead of going behind his desk. I don’t like this, or the pitying look on his face.

“I can explain everything,” I say, just wanting to get this the hell over with.

“What’re you talking about?” he asks.

“Nothing . . . I thought—what’s going on?”

“It’s Tracy.” Sarge grabs my hand. No man has ever grabbed my hand before, let alone Sarge, who’s the manliest man I’ve ever met in my entire life. He drinks beer and eats hamburgers rare. He played college football and smokes the occasional cigar. He doesn’t touch another man’s hand.

“There’s no other way to say this, Ryan. Tracy’s dead.”

The whole room gets fuzzy. I don’t know what’s going on. I think Sarge said Tracy’s dead, but that can’t be. It’s not possible.

Sarge grabs my shoulders and shakes me. “You with me here?” he asks.

Suddenly I am. I’m still in shock, but I’m with him.

“Yeah. How? What happened? Where is she?” I ask, rapid-fire. I feel like I should be crying, but I’m not. I can’t make myself cry. I don’t know if I’m really that upset. I’m surprised.

“A neighbor called us because she heard screaming coming from your house. I talked to her at the scene. Said she’d never heard anything like it before.”

“Was it a robbery?”

Sarge shakes his head. “Not much was out of place. TV still there, computers, jewelry. Whoever did it took Tracy by surprise, and they were only interested in her, it seems. You’ll have to do an inventory to be sure nothing is missing, but the guys said it looks like everything’s still there.”

“Do you have a suspect?” I ask, even though there’s only one suspect in my head: Margaret Moore. I know Margaret did this, and now she’ll come after me. Margaret found out about me and Beth and killed my fiancée so she could destroy me and save herself. How could I be so stupid?

Sarge takes a deep breath, looks down.

I keep talking. “I know I can’t be on the case, but Kate’ll find the person responsible. She won’t give up.”

He looks at me. “You’re the prime suspect at the moment.”

I choke. “Excuse me? How is that possible? I’ve been at work.”

“It was called in before you got here. The neighbor saw a man with brown hair, about five-foot-ten, wearing a mask, walking out of the house. You fit that description.”

“Yeah, me and half the male population of the city.”

“We found a gun next to Tracy’s body. It’s registered to you. We’re still waiting on ballistics, but . . .” Sarge trailed off.

“Like I’d shoot Tracy and then leave the gun to be found. Come on.”

I’ve turned from surprised to angry. I didn’t kill my fiancée.

“I’m being framed,” I add, getting up and walking around the room. I glance out, see that everyone is staring into the office. They must know what’s going on. They must think I killed Tracy. It’s what I would be thinking if it was someone else in this position.

“You believe me, right?” I say to Sarge. “Right?”

He looks at me with pity. I can’t tell if it’s because Tracy’s dead or if he’s about to arrest me, or at the very least, take my badge.

“Sure, I believe you, Ryan, but we have to do a thorough investigation. If you’re innocent, we’ll prove it.”

“If I’m innocent? I am innocent. It’s Margaret Moore. She framed me.”

I’m becoming frantic.

“Didn’t you hear me? It was a man.”

“It could have been her husband. Or