Cold Case Cop

Nothing had really changed between them. “I started back today.”

She pouted. “What a waste of good talent. I spoke to your brother Brandon the other day. He’d love to have you in the company.”

Gertie drummed impatient manicured fingers on the table’s white linen. “How goes plans for the Founders’ Ball? It’s less than a week away.”

Regina brightened. She brushed an imaginary bit of lint from his shoulder, something she’d done a lot when they’d been married. “Excellent. We will transform this place tomorrow. It’s a Monte Carlo theme this year.”

“Wonderful,” Gertie said.

His ex-wife missed the sarcasm in his grandmother’s voice. The two had never gotten on well.

Alex decided to turn this meeting into an opportunity. “Regina, what do you remember about Kit Westgate?”

The blonde smiled. “Lovely woman. Such a sense of style. I would have killed for her skin.”

“Anything unusual you remember about her?” Alex said.

“There was this one time when we were in New York shopping about eighteen months ago. We were on Fifth Avenue in Saks. Anyway, this shopgirl came up to Kit, hugged her and called her Brenda.” Regina shuddered. “We were all shocked. Kit was furious. She told the woman that she was mistaken, and we left immediately.”

Brenda. Gertie had heard Kit arguing about a woman named Brenda. “Could it have been a case of mistaken identity?”

Regina nodded. “That’s what I thought. But it was strange. The woman was convinced that Kit was this Brenda.”

“Anything else you remember about Kit?”

“No. Why are you asking? The woman has been dead for a year.”

“I’m looking into the case. A loose end that’s always troubled me.”

Regina checked her diamond watch, caught sight of a male friend across the room and waved. “Honestly, Alex, why you would worry about an old case is beyond me. Kit is yesterday.”

Understanding each other had been one of the major faults of their marriage. “Thanks, Regina.”

She hooked her arm in his. “Walk me to my car?”

“Sure.” Alex glanced at Gertie and her friends. They shamelessly stared at the duo. None looked happy. “Ladies, thank you for your help.” He kissed Gertie on the cheek. “Call me if you think of anything else.”

“Of course, my dear,” Gertie said.

Alex escorted Regina out of the club, aware that a half-dozen sets of eyes followed him. She was the darling of the club. He was the black sheep of his family and social set. No doubt everyone would be talking about him and his ex for days as whispers of reconciliation swirled. The club was like a small town where everyone knew everyone else’s business.

When they came out on the portico, Alex spotted Tara’s Toyota parked at the top of the circular drive. He glanced around, wondering where she lurked.

Regina tightened her hold on his arm. “Alex, darling, we really should get together again soon. It’s been too long.”

Regina was beautiful, and sex with her was always passionate if a bit lonely. It would be easy to fall into bed with her but he knew he’d be fooling himself and her if they did.

“Hey, sport!”

Tara Mackey’s familiar voice caught Alex by surprise. He turned toward the east end of the building. A club security guard, who was an off-duty cop named Jimmy Rogers, was hauling Tara away from the club. She was trying to dig in her heels and pull against him, but resisting Jimmy was like trying to stop an avalanche. The guy was six-five and weighed close to two hundred and fifty pounds.

“You’re gonna have to leave, ma’am,” Jimmy said. His voice was calm. “This club is for members only.”

“Let go of me, pal!” Tara shouted. “I told you I only need five minutes.”

Jimmy kept pulling her toward the driveway. “No way.”

A smile tipped the edge of Alex’s lips. Regina was a beautiful woman, but compared to Tara she seemed spiritless and ordinary.

“Regina, if you will excuse me, I see a friend.” He ignored her pout and headed toward Tara.

“Ma’am,” Jimmy said. “You aren’t allowed in the club.”

“This is a free country. Free speech is in the Bill of Rights,” Tara said. “I just want to talk to a few people.”

The guard released Tara abruptly and she stumbled back. She barely caught herself before she fell on her backside.

Jimmy folded thick arms over his chest. “Leave or I call the cops.”

“Look, man, I just want to talk to Mrs. Talbot. I promise I won’t be a problem. I’ll be in and out in five.”

The guard reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a cell phone. “I’m dialing the cops.”

Tara’s bravado faltered.

“Jimmy,” Alex said, moving toward them. “What’s the problem here?”

Jimmy’s scowl softened. “Hey, Detective Kirkland. How you doing? No problem here. I was just about to have this reporter arrested for trespassing.”

Tara glanced up at Alex. And for just a second her face colored as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Alex took Tara’s arm. “You don’t have to worry about Ms. Mackey. I’ve got this under control.”

Jimmy seemed grateful to be done with Tara. “Thanks, Detective.”

Tara’s expression turned glib. “Friends in high places, pal.”

Jimmy shrugged and returned to his post back in the club.

Alex pulled Tara away. “Don’t push your luck.”

Tara followed until they were out of earshot and then jerked her arm free. “Thanks, Kirkland. I’m not sure where you came from but I appreciate the help. Now I have to figure out how to get into that club.”

Her cheeks were flushed and her green eyes sharp with the prospect of a challenge. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, drawing his attention to her full breasts.

Alex realized he wanted to kiss her. Damn. Kiss Mackey. Where the hell had that come from? “Why do you want in the club?”

“I found Kit’s old chauffeur but he didn’t have much to add. So I figured I would visit the club—Kit Westgate’s old hangout. I was hoping to ask around and see if anyone remembered her.”

“No one’s allowed in without a membership unless they are a guest of a member.”

“Yeah, I know. But I thought maybe I could just slip in the side entrance. I was five feet in the side door when I was stopped by that goon. He said he spotted me because I don’t blend in.”

Alex studied her outfit. It didn’t blend. Frankly, it was a shade too tight and sexy for the club. “You’re just too…”

“Inexpensive, lowbrow, cheap?” The hint of defensiveness in her voice surprised him.

“Sexy.”

She blushed. “This is not sexy.”

That made him grin. “Come on, Mackey. You know how to work an outfit so that the male cops you interview don’t think too clearly.”

Mackey shrugged, unapologetic. “I get the quotes any way I can.” She shot an annoyed glance back at the club.

“Get over it. You got caught and were tossed out.”

She drew in a calming breath. “It’s not that I mind getting caught. It’s happened before. It’s just that these highbrow types put me on the defensive. They think a big bankroll and a pedigree makes them better.”

“Sounds like you’ve got issues.” Tara Mackey was generally one of the most open-minded people he knew. “I’m surprised you have such a narrow view of the wealthy.”

“You sound like Roxie.”

“Roxie?”

“My aunt. She raised me.”

The tidbit of information told him that he knew very little about Mackey personally. It was enough to make him curious about all the other things he didn’t know about her.

Regina chose that moment to approach them. His ex looped her arm possessively around his. “Alex, who is your little friend?”

Her emphasis on little had Tara visibly bristly. She opened her mouth, ready to fire back an answer.

Alex cut Tara off before she could comment. “Regina, I’d like you to meet Tara Mackey. Tara is a crime reporter for the Boston Globe. Tara, this is Regina Albright.”

Regina’s brows rose. “A crime reporter? You must have met Alex at the police station.”

Tara smiled, but he sensed her tension. “That’s right.”

Regina wrinkled her delicate nose. “Alex mentioned an article in the paper a few months ago. He wasn’t pleased with the headline.” She laid her manicured finger against her chin. “What was that headline? Oh, I remember. Arsonist Smokes Cops. That really made him mad.”

Mackey’s didn’t flinch. “That was my piece. I was covering the north-side fires, set by an arsonist who called himself Nero.”

Alex had called Mackey the day that article had come out. He had gotten her voice-mail and had expressed his displeasure in no uncertain terms. She’d responded later with a text message. Glad u red my stuff. “We caught the guy last week.”

“And I reported that,” Mackey added. “Brady had a few nice quotes as well.”

Mackey’s gaze dropped to Regina’s hold on him. Her lips flattened. Some knew of his privileged background, but for the most part he downplayed it. He doubted Mackey knew. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind.

“Regina,” Mackey said slowly. “How do you know Detective Kirkland?”

Regina grinned, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary. “Didn’t Alex tell you about me?”

“No.”

Alex pulled his arm free of Regina. “Regina and I were married a long, long time ago.”

Chapter 4

Monday, July 14, 2:00 p.m.

Regina grinned. “Darling, it wasn’t that long ago.”

Tara’s smile froze on her face. But mentally, her brain ticked through the facts she knew about the Albright family. Blue blood. Money. Privilege. They represented the worst possible combination as far as she was concerned. So what was a homicide cop like Kirkland doing mixed up with a family like that?

“I didn’t realize that you’d been married.” Tara’s tone sounded extra cheery. She was trying to prove to Regina and herself that she didn’t care that Kirkland had been married. It sure wasn’t any of her business who he slept with or who he’d been married to.

Alex cleared his throat. “Regina and I have been divorced for eight years.”

Regina pouted. “Has it been that long? It seems like it was only yesterday we were vacationing in St. Moritz for our honeymoon. And of course there was that cozy dinner at your house a few months ago.”

Regina might as well have stamped Mine on Kirkland’s forehead.

Again, Tara reminded herself that it was none of her business. “How’d you two hook up in the first place?”

Regina smiled. “We grew up together.”

Albright. St. Moritz. Kirkland.

In a flash Tara connected the dots. How could she have been so stupid? The Kirkland family was the bluest of the blue bloods. His younger brother Brandon was constantly being quoted in the financial section. He was a wizard when it came to the financial markets. The family had more money than most small countries.

Alex Kirkland was not a regular guy a girl asked out for a beer or invited to a ballgame. “Kirkland, you’re one of the Kirklands, aren’t you?”

His jaw tightened. “Yes.”

Regina laughed. “You didn’t know? Good Lord, everyone knows Alex is the heir to the fortune.”

Kirkland cleared his throat. “My brother runs the company. I’m a cop.”

Tara suddenly felt foolish and awkward. She was a reporter. It was her job to know about people. But with Kirkland, she’d not looked past the badge and his reputation as a cop.

Again, she flashed the too-bright smile. “Hey, I’d love to stand here all day and chat. But I’ve got to go. Have a good one.” She started across the circular drive toward her car.

“Mackey,” Kirkland said.

She ignored him. It was unreasonable for her to be mad at him, but she was. She had really wanted him to be just a regular guy.

Kirkland caught up to her just as she reached her car. His grip on her arm was gentle but strong enough to stop her. “What’s eating you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re pissed that I slept with my ex a few months ago?”

“Please, I could care less about that.”

His gaze narrowed. “So that means you have something against rich people.”

Tara dropped her gaze to her purse and started to dig for her keys. Damn, where were they? “I’ve nothing against the rich.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

He laid his hand on her arm. “Coward.”

She jerked her arm free, but continued to dig in her purse. Where were her keys? “Go away.”

“Not until I explain.”

She could feel the color rise in her face. “Explain what? You’re rich. You have connections. Why you chose to downplay that fact is your business. It’s not a big deal. Really.”

He studied her face. “This is a big deal to you. Why?”

She refused to let this get to her. “What’s a big deal is that I can’t find my keys and I’ve got to get to work.”

“At the paper?”

“At Roxie’s bar. I wait tables there a few nights a week.” Her fingertips brushed metal and she pulled out her keys. She jammed the key in the lock.

Kirkland shoved his hands in his pockets. “I downplay my background because I don’t want it overshadowing my police work.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” She opened the door.

He studied her closely. “Did some rich kid jilt you at one time?”

She got in the car and sat down. The last thing she wanted to do was examine her own prejudices, hang-ups and failed relationships. “Can we just drop it?”

He seemed to understand that she’d said all she was going to say. Like a good interrogator, he changed tactics. “I talked to Regina about Kit.”

That had her refocusing her attention back on him. “And?”

“Regina and Kit were in New York eighteen months ago and a saleswoman in Saks called Kit Brenda.”

Curiosity ignited in her. “Did Regina know who the woman was?

“No. To her she was just a salesclerk.” He shifted his stance as if his leg bothered him. “Kit told the woman she was mistaken and then demanded they leave the store.”

Her mind ticked through the possibilities.

Kirkland’s gaze narrowed. “I think you’re right about there being more to this case. I’m going to move this case from the back burner to the front, Mackey.”

Tara hid her smile. She hadn’t thought he could leave the unsolved case alone for long. “And you will give me the scoop if you solve it before me?”

“Why should I?” A grin tipped the edge of his lips, and the smile changed his entire look. He wasn’t classically handsome but there was a ruggedness—a maleness—that she found far more attractive.

“Because I’m the one that brought this case back to your attention and I’ve promised to share with you anything I find.”

Amusement sparked in his eyes. “You share and I’ll share?”

“It’s a fair arrangement.” She checked her watch. “Damn. Listen, I really do have to get going. I’ve got to stop by the paper before I get to Roxie’s.” She fired up the engine.

He stepped back from the car and she closed the door. “Be careful, Mackey. This case is going to ruffle feathers.” He really looked worried.

“Ruffling feathers is what I do best. You know that.” Gravel kicked up as she shoved the gear into Reverse and backed out of the parking lot, leaving Alex Kirkland staring after her.

The newspaper offices were busy when Tara arrived. She waved to the guard at reception and punched the up elevator button. The doors dinged opened to Bill Heckman, a tall, slim man with blond hair who always wore a Ramones T-shirt. This shirt was black with red lettering and a white skull. He was holding a stack of magazines and had an unlit cigarette behind his left ear.

Bill grinned. “Tara. How goes it?”

Tara and Bill had grown up in the same neighborhood. They had many friends in common from school and now both worked for the paper. They’d gone out a few times and Bill had wanted to get serious, but Tara had kept the relationship limited to friendship and the occasional Red Sox game. “It’s going. Thanks again for that mock-up. It’s been great.”

“No sweat.”

“Where you headed?”

“Going to the sports bar across the street. They’re doing highlights of the Sox games from last year. Want to come?”

She was genuinely sorry she couldn’t go. “I’ve got to work. Rain check?”

“Will do.” He grinned. “Tell Roxie hi. And I’ll be by on Saturday to fix that leaky faucet.”

“Thanks, Bill.” She kissed him on the cheek and got on the elevator. She punched Three and the doors closed. The elevator doors opened on the third floor to a large room with three rows of desks separated by narrow aisles. Most of the desks had reporters sitting at them. Everyone was either staring at a computer screen or talking on the phone. They were all racing to meet the evening deadline for the morning paper.

Tara hurried to her desk. Miriam had given her a week to work on the Westgate piece, so she had no evening deadline. The story was due in six days. She sat down and set her bag by her desk. She clicked on her computer.

While the machine booted up, she glanced at the stack of mail on her desk. Under the pile of various press releases and police incident reports she found a manila envelope. It had T. Mackey written on it. As she reached for it, her computer screen came on and she opened her e-mail. There were several Urgent Reply Requested e-mails from accounting regarding her last expense report. She dealt with those.

Her phone rang twice. She answered questions from two reporters before she got back to the envelope. She tore the sealed edge open.

Inside, she found a piece of paper folded crisply in half. She unfolded the paper and discovered it was a New York City rap sheet for a Brenda Latimer. Why on earth would someone send her Brenda Latimer’s file? She checked the envelope for a note, but there was none.

Tara dropped her gaze to Brenda Latimer’s picture. Immediately, the photo had Tara straightening. The girl was twenty-three or-four and had ink-black hair. A rebellious look glinted behind ice-blue eyes that were outlined in extremely heavy makeup.

There was no missing the similarities. The oval face, the graceful jawline and the high slash of cheekbones were unmistakable.

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