Fatal Fraternity

3:13).

Chapter 1

From her perch at the kitchen table, Lydia James eyed the crime techs milling around in the front room. One bagged the weapon, which she recognized as a knife from her former husband’s carving set. A uniformed officer, with a patch reading Sedona, Texas PD on his sleeve, enclosed the living room area with yellow tape.

Nellie Holbert filled two glasses of water and sauntered to the table. I told the police they couldn’t talk to Ethan until you got here.

I appreciate that, Lydia said. Thanks for calling me. She took a swig from the glass, hoping it would calm her. Her eyes fell again on the crime techs in booties, side-stepping to avoid walking on potential evidence. One man circled the room, shooting pictures.

Nellie parked herself next to Ethan. Just take one sip, she said gently.

The ten year old glanced up at her. His eyes fluttered, and then he buried his pale face in Lydia’s embrace. His teary cheek left her neck damp. He trembled, so she held him tighter. He was her only child and she would have done anything to protect him from the horror of finding his father’s body.

Waves of utter helplessness washed through her. Her mouth tightened. Would Ethan’s discovery scar him for life?

Do you have any idea who would kill Colin? Nellie asked.

Lydia shook her head. She stared at the tarp that now covered the body of the only man she had ever loved. She closed her eyes and conjured up Colin’s handsome face, his serious dark eyes and curly black hair. She wished she could cry for him, but she had lost him years ago. The way he had cheated on her— along with the painful divorce— had made mincemeat of her heart. She hated him.

The two detectives who had shuffled them into the kitchen talked intently. The male, tall and slender, stooped to talk with his diminutive partner, a female, six inches shorter.

They ambled to the kitchen. Getting a better look now, Lydia recognized the man from somewhere— she didn’t remember where. He was good-looking, with light blue eyes. A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he approached.

The female detective strolled to the granite counter beside the sink. She inspected a partially sliced ham on a carving board. Beside it, several slices of bread had been left exposed to stiffen in the air. Looks like the killer got the knife from here, she said.

Lydia had decided that herself. The knife that had been buried in Colin’s chest was part of the ivory-handled set she had given him one Christmas.

The man crouched in front of them and touched Ethan’s hand. Do you know who I am, son?

Ethan’s stiff back relaxed. Yes. You’re Toby’s dad. He wiped his eyes with his hand.

Surprised, Lydia leaned closer. You’re Dean Warren? I’m sorry— I didn’t realize.

Don’t worry about it. You’re dealing with a death in the family.

She cleared her throat. Colin and I are divorced.

Dean introduced his partner as Elda Martinez, and then returned his gaze to Ethan. I have to ask you some questions.

Lydia stirred uncomfortably. I don’t think he’s in any state—

Dean stood and pulled up a chair. I’m sorry. But witnesses remember more when a memory is fresh. He focused on Ethan. Okay with you?

The boy nodded and took the handkerchief from Dean’s outstretched hand.

Tell me what happened.

Ethan’s voice cracked. I found my dad. He was dead.

I know. That’s terrible.

Now that Ethan opened up, talking became easier. I rode over here on my bike. I came to give Dad a package from the antique shop.

They waited.

I was on my way home after school. Mr. Kane stopped me. He gave me five dollars to bring the box here.

Elda pointed at a wrapped package near the front door. That it? Not waiting for an answer, she darted past the busy techs in the living room, snatched up a box, and delivered it to the kitchen table.

Ethan dabbed his eyes. I dropped it when I saw Dad.

A uniformed officer followed Elda into the kitchen. This wasn’t a robbery, he said. We found a wad of cash in his wallet. The credit cards weren’t taken either.

Mr. Kane said Dad needed to pay him. I was supposed to bring money back to him.

What’s in the box? Dean asked him.

I don’t know.

Dean weighed it in both hands. It’s heavy. He pulled on latex gloves and split the string with a penknife. Tearing off the brown paper, he opened the lid and stared into the box.

Elda leaned closer. Puzzlement fluttered her eyes. Why would anyone buy a rock? Take it out, she said to her gloved partner. Let’s have a look.

As Dean lifted it, they studied the iron ball, which was slightly bigger than a baseball.

What’s that blackish stuff on it? Elda asked.

Dean summoned one of the techs, who came promptly into the kitchen. Frank, have a look at this. What do you see?

Looks like blood. Let me take it to the lab.

Dean placed the ball back in the box and handed it over.

Frank peered closer before replacing the lid. About ten years ago, a construction crew dug up a bucket of cannonballs near the Alamo. I bet this is one of them.

Lydia wondered why Colin would purchase it. Didn’t it belong in a museum?

Dean focused his attention on Elda. Go to Kane’s shop on Main Street. Find out what you can about this cannonball.

When she was gone, Dean swiveled in his seat and spoke to Ethan again. Did you see anyone else inside or outside the house?

Ethan shook his head. Just Mrs. Holbert. She lives next door.

All eyes turned to Nellie. I was on the porch when Ethan stumbled outside crying. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Anyone mind if I smoke?

Dean and Lydia objected in one voice.

The corners of Nellie’s mouth drew into a pout. She stuffed the pack into the pocket of her pants.

Did you see anything? Dean asked her.

No. Just Ethan arriving on his bike. Nellie’s jaw tightened. If you want to question me further, I’ll be outside smoking. She bolted out the backdoor and retreated at a defiant pace.

Lydia didn’t wait a beat. Is it okay for me to take Ethan home? He’s been through a lot.

Sure. But we may need to talk again. Leave me your contact information.

She slipped a card out of her purse and slid it across the table. I work at the city library. This has the telephone number there and my cell phone.

Dean crouched again, close to Ethan. I’m going to get the guy who did this. I promise you.

Chapter 2

A sofa, chair, and a small table, all white wicker, were the only furniture on the Holbert’s front porch. Nellie motioned for Dean to sit on the sofa while she claimed the chair. She crossed her legs and puffed heavily on a cigarette.

Dean guessed she was in her forties. Her hair, cropped short, was a bold, fire engine red— the kind that comes from a bottle.

He surveyed the view from the porch. You can see the whole street from here.

She set her jaw. I didn’t see anything. I’d just come out on the porch when Ethan showed up. He waved at me and went inside.

Dean pulled his phone from his coat pocket and clicked the recorder on. Nellie’s eyes narrowed. Are you taping me?

I don’t rely only on memory.

Why didn’t you use it before?

I didn’t want to distract Ethan. I would have recorded what he said, but it wasn’t useful. He cleared his throat. You know something, don’t you?

I don’t know for sure. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the boy. He seems so fragile.

As Dean placed the phone on the table beside her, he made an effort not to suck in the mentholated smoke trapped on the porch.

She spoke, her voice low, grinning sheepishly, as though embarrassed to speak the words. There were always women going in and out of there. They looked sleazy.

Like hookers?

She nodded. He liked women. A lot. I know for a fact he cheated on Lydia. I saw a blonde visit him repeatedly when Lydia was at work.

Did you consider Colin a friend? Dean asked.

Yes. Lydia too. We were neighbors for a long time. Our husbands played poker together. Sometimes Lydia and I went shopping.

Dean wondered why she wasn’t more upset.

She lit a second cigarette from the one she had burning, carefully dropping the butt into the mountain of stubs in the ashtray.

How many do you smoke a day? Dean asked.

Nellie grimaced. Several packs. You’re not going to lecture me, are you?

He shook his head, and continued. That means this afternoon you came outside several times?

Sure. Robert won’t let me smoke indoors. She flicked off some ashes. I told you I didn’t see anything.

Dean didn’t believe her. The medical examiner said Colin was killed between one and two o’clock. Were you outside then?

"No. I was watching Days of Eternity. I never miss it. Her head snapped around as an over-sized man in jogging sweats climbed the porch steps. This is my husband Robert. Maybe he saw something."

Robert offered his hand. He had a Jimmy Durante nose, big ears, and a thick mustache.

This man is a police detective, Nellie told him. Colin was killed.

Robert’s brows shot up in surprise. How— did — it happen?

He was stabbed. Nellie answered as if addressed. I saw the knife in his chest. I called the police.

His eyes locked on Dean. Who did it?

Dean shrugged. Got any ideas?

Avoiding an answer, Robert opened the front door. Let’s get away from this smoke, he said, leading Dean into a tiny living room, cluttered with furniture. I’ve been trying for years to get her to stop smoking. She’s determined to smoke herself to death.

Nellie had followed them inside. Everyone has to die of something, she said, her face quite serious.

Dean switched on the recorder. Were you home when Nellie was watching her soap?

No. I went jogging. I’m trying to lose weight.

Dean’s watch read five o’clock. Three hours was a long time to be jogging. He took a closer look at Robert, who had a wrestler’s physique. Dean guessed the man had the strength to take Colin down without using a knife.

Did you see anyone suspicious while you were jogging?

Robert’s face crumbled into a sheepish grin. I ran out of steam. I was doing more walking than running.

Dean forced a smile, but Robert had avoided another question. He tried again. Did you see anybody go inside Colin James’ house?

Not today.

Tell me about your neighbors. Do you know if Colin was having trouble with anyone?

The Holberts exchanged a telling glance.

I told him about all the women, Nellie said to Robert. But no names.

Robert gulped in a big breath. Herb Morgan. I think his wife and Colin had a thing. Herb and Colin went at it in the front yard a few weeks ago. There was more shouting than anything else— but it came to blows.

Nellie interrupted. They live in the red brick house at the end of the street.

Dean would have officers scour the entire neighborhood for a witness. He decided to visit the Morgans himself.

His cell phone rang. The caller was Elda, so he answered quickly. What did you learn? He frowned as he listened to her soft voice over the line. Say again?

Grant Kane is dead too.

He flipped the phone shut. What is going on?

Chapter 3

Elda had driven the squad car to the antique shop, so Dean hitched a ride to the second crime scene with CSI Frank Jonas. As they pulled into a parking space outside the store, Dean spotted Elda sitting on the curb. She was licking an ice cream cone. Her tongue traveled all around the wafer stem, trying to stall the tide of melting chocolate.

I notice you have a new partner. Frank’s voice crackled with hostility. Rumor has it she has connections— and her promotion was fixed. The other candidates weren’t even considered.

Dean frowned. Elda’s father Rudy had once been his partner. That doesn’t mean she’s not capable. Give her a chance.

His face flushed pink. Of course. I didn’t mean—

Dean opened the door on the passenger side and stepped out.

Elda moved quickly to greet them. I didn’t want to compromise the crime scene, she said, so I stayed out here.

Frank threw her a bone. Good girl. He stared down his nose at the stubby cone as she chewed it up.

Her dark eyes shot daggers at him. I was bored waiting for you guys. There’s nothing in the rulebook against eating.

Frank laughed. I suppose you read it from cover to cover.

She raised perfectly plucked eyebrows. Yes.

Frank opened the glass door with gold letters reading Kane’s Collectibles. He motioned for the detectives to enter first. The bell over the door jingled as they stepped inside.

Kane would have heard the killer arrive, Elda said.

Dean flashed Frank a silent look that said, She’s going to be good at this.

The bright iridescent bulbs lit a room crowded with too much furniture, dishes, books, vases, and piles of vintage advertising. They paused outside the taped-off area and Frank passed out covers to put over their shoes.

Everywhere Dean saw signs of a struggle. Close to the entrance, mail was scattered over the floor. The stool behind the counter rested on its side.

In the silence Dean struggled to find a solution to this new puzzle. He guessed that Ethan’s delivery connected the two murders. Were both men killed for the cannonball?

They followed Elda to the back of the shop, stepping carefully over strewed whatnots and a fallen brass candlestick. The aisle got narrower and narrower as clutter took over.

They turned a corner. Grant Kane was sprawled like a starfish in front of a cherry dresser, his back and legs twisted to the left. A crystal lamp, knocked off a table, was shattered near his head. Blood splattered his shirt from a bullet in his heart. His temple was caved in where another round had entered his brain.

He was shot twice, Elda said. Someone wanted to be sure he died.

He was shot close up, Frank added. He probably knew his killer.

Dean spotted a single, faint footprint in the victim’s blood. Look here.

I saw it too, Elda said.

Frank pulled a pair of crumpled latex gloves from his pocket and struggled to insert his pudgy fingers.

Let’s look around, Dean said to Elda.

They walked slowly up an adjoining aisle, leaving Frank to do his job.

They halted in front of a wardrobe with drawers pulled out. They were searching for something, Elda said.

Dean shifted his attention to a messy pile of opened books scattered on the floor beneath an empty bookshelf. Maybe the fingerprint guys will turn up something. He eyed her curiously. How are you holding up? The first murder is always hard.

I wanted to be in Homicide. It’s what I expected.

He smiled to himself. The intensity in her eyes reminded him of her father. Two murders at once is a lot. I don’t think anyone else has had an initiation like this.

She didn’t seem to hear him. Do you think the kills are connected?

Don’t you?

She nodded. Look here. She picked up a cell phone that had fallen amid the scattered bins and fallen shelves. Before she stuffed it into a plastic bag, she checked for ownership. It belonged to Kane.

They retraced their steps up the original aisle. What do you see? he asked her.

She pointed to the spilled furniture. Um, there was a fight.

And?

She laughed. I feel like you’re testing me.

"Sorry. If we’re going to be partners, I want you to feel like my equal.