Pretty Girl Gone (Mac McKenzie #3)

Pretty Girl Gone (Mac McKenzie #3) Page 71

Mallinger shook her head slowly.

“There was no gunshot residue on his hand, no fingerprints on the gun. The ME has classified it as a homicide. Once I heard that, I reinterviewed the kids we busted the other day. Did a photo array. They all picked Josie as the man who sold them the meth.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’ve already done it. I called the Nicholas County Sheriff’s Department. It’s their case.”

“How would you like to solve it?”

“What do you know that I don’t?”

“Answer the question. How would—”

“I’d like it a lot. Of course I would.”

“Could you get the rest of the Victoria Seven together, all of them together in the same room?”

“You think they killed Josie?”

“Get them together and we’ll ask them.”

“It’s done.”

“Done?”

“They’re all over at Nick’s even as we speak, planning Josie Bloom’s funeral. That’s where I got the coffee.”

“Including Dr. Peterson.”

“Everyone except Jack Barrett.”

“Let me get dressed, we’ll go over there.”

“Before we do . . . About last night.”

I didn’t want to talk about last night and my reaction was probably more brusque than it needed to be.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re going to tell me that you’ve never done anything like that before and you’re not that kind of girl.”

“I haven’t done anything like that before,” Mallinger said. “But apparently I am exactly that kind of girl. The thing is, I’m pretty sure I’m not the kind of girl who does it a lot. McKenzie, I’m grateful to you. I needed comfort. I needed understanding and tenderness. I needed someone to care about me. You gave me all that. That’s a lot to give, but . . .”

“But it’s not going any farther than last night.”

“If it does, it won’t be because I need comfort.”

“Okay.”

“Please don’t be offended.”

“I’m not offended, Danny. Honestly, I’m not. I suppose last night we were both using each other for the same reasons.”

Mallinger nodded her head, but I don’t think that was the answer she wanted to hear. Which was ironic, because that wasn’t the answer I wanted to give. Hell yes, I’m offended. That’s what I really wanted to say, but what was the point? At the first opportunity, I was leaving Victoria and I didn’t plan on coming back.

“We should be on our way if we’re going to catch the Seven,” Mallinger said.

“Yeah, we should.”

“I think from now on, you should call me Chief again.”

“Why don’t you wait outside while I get dressed, Chief.”

It didn’t take me long. Jeans, boots, the shirt and sweater I had worn the two previous days that now made me feel slightly soiled. I put most of my time into my hair.

I met Mallinger in the lobby. We left for Nick’s in separate cars. Ten minutes later we walked through the heavy door of the restaurant. Axelrod, Hugoson, Reif, and Dr. Peterson were sitting alone in a room reserved for private functions just off the kitchen. I was pleased to see the splint on the middle finger of Reif’s gun hand.

“McKenzie.”

Axelrod seemed pleased to see me. The others said nothing. They were sitting at a long table, bottles of beer arrayed in front of them. I recognized Dr. Peterson from the photos in his office. He wore sunglasses—even indoors—that reminded me of the windshield of an expensive sports car. He was tanned, but it was man-made and didn’t have the healthy glow you get from sun and fresh air.

“Have you guys met McKenzie?” Axelrod asked.

No one replied. The other men seemed more interested in Mallinger than they did in me.

“What’s going on, Chief?” Hugoson asked.

“Good question,” she replied. “What is going on?”

“Gentlemen, and I use the word loosely,” I said. They all turned to look at me. “Which one of you has A negative blood?”

Dr. Peterson carelessly raised his hand.

Hugoson shot him a glance that could have frozen running water.

“Which one of you is B positive?”

“Shut up, you guys!” Hugoson told the room. “What are you doing here?” he asked me.

“How about you, convict? Are you B positive?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“It’s easy enough to find out. We’ll just check your prison records.”

Hugoson rose so quickly to his feet that his chair fell over.

“Going somewhere?” Mallinger asked.

“I don’t need to listen to this crap.”

“Aren’t you curious?” Mallinger asked him. “Me? I’m curious. How ’bout the rest of you guys? Are you curious?”

“I am,” Axelrod said and laughed. “Very curious.” Only his laughter didn’t have the same lilt as it had when I first met him.

“What’s your blood type, Nick?” I asked.

“O positive. Universal donor.” He answered like he was proud of it.