Kill and Run (A Thorny Rose Mystery Book 1) Read online

Jessica answered, “Spencer,” at the same time that Murphy said, “She answers to Candi.”

  “I’ll call her Blue.” Izzy brought her face close to Spencer’s snout and kissed it. “Do you like that name, Blue?”

  After uttering a yap, Spencer licked Izzy on the lips and nose.

  “It’s going to take all of Candi’s two IQ points just to figure out what her name is.” Murphy picked up the suitcase that he had left on the floor while retrieving the treats for the dogs. “Izzy, would you like me to show you up to your room?”

  Remembering that she had fixed up the guest room across from the master suite for Cameron, Jessica uttered a squawk that caused Murphy to pause. “Cameron is coming tomorrow. I was going to put her—”

  “Who’s Cameron?” Izzy asked.

  “She’s my stepmother,” Murphy answered before telling Jessica. “Izzy is my responsibility. I would feel more comfortable if she was on the same floor with us.”

  “How many floors does this house have?” Izzy asked.

  “Four.” With a sigh, Jessica agreed to fix up the guest room on the top floor, in the loft, for Cameron the next morning.

  In the living room, Izzy stopped and took in the luxurious space of the brownstone. “Wow.” Her mouth hung in awe. “This room alone is bigger than our house. I didn’t know the navy paid so well.”

  “They don’t.” Murphy shot a grin over his shoulder. “I married very well.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” Jessica fell in behind them.

  Spencer scurried to keep pace with Izzy.

  The classic leather furniture still had the new smell, except for the old overstuffed chair from Murphy’s previous apartment. The black and white hound with the short legs and floppy ears eyed the curly haired girl. On the flat-screen television hanging on the wall across from the dog, a couple in sequined outfits were dancing the tango.

  “That’s Newman,” Jessica told her in a low voice. “He doesn’t bite unless you change the channel when he’s watching one of his programs.”

  Upstairs, Murphy placed Izzy’s suitcase on a luggage stand in the closet. Children’s services had stopped at the Crenshaw house on the way to the group home to pack a few things into an overnight bag. “I’ll be going to your house tomorrow, Izzy,” he told her. “If you find that you’ve forgotten or want anything, let me know and I’ll get it for you.”

  Opening the door to the bathroom, Izzy’s mouth dropped. Spotting the sunken tub with jets, she uttered a gasp. “Is that a Jacuzzi? Is that my bathroom?” She turned to them. “The bathroom at the other place smelled funny.”

  “As long as you’re staying here, that will be your bathroom.” As soon as she said the words, Jessica caught Murphy’s eye from the other side of the queen-sized bed.

  Wordlessly, they asked the same question. How long is Izzy staying with us? Certainly not indefinitely. By removing her from the group home, Murphy had saved her from a horrible place but, clearly, it was only temporary. Eventually, she would have to go back to children’s services who would put her into the foster care system. With no living relative, she would be available for adoption. Unfortunately, but the odds of a teenager being adopted by a good family were not good. She would most likely end up back in the same situation that Murphy had rescued her from.

  Izzy unzipped the suitcase and retrieved a framed picture, which rested on top of the few things that she had packed. She held out the picture to Jessica. “Is it okay if I put this on the stand next to my bed?”

  Jessica took the picture from her. It was of two young women, both in army dress uniforms, standing with their arms around each other. One had auburn hair pulled back into a bun secured low on her neck. She wore the private first class insignia on her sleeve. Murphy recognized her as Donna Crenshaw, Izzy’s mother. Several inches shorter than Donna, the second woman, who wore her curly blonde hair pulled back into a French braid, had the insignia designating her as an army specialist.

  “That’s my mom and her sister.” Izzy wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “This picture was taken on the day my mom graduated from army boot camp.”

  “Your mother used to be in the army?” Jessica asked.

  “Then she switched to the navy,” Izzy said.

  “They were both very pretty.”

  “Mom tells me …” Izzy choked before correcting herself, “told me … that I have Cecelia’s smile.”

  “Are you interested in going into the army like your mother and aunt?”

  To Murphy’s surprise, Izzy shook her head vehemently. “Mom said no way in hell would she ever let me join the army.”

  Before he could respond, Murphy’s cell phone vibrated on his hip. Checking the caller ID, he saw that it was Boris Hamilton.

  Not wanting to discuss the case within Izzy’s ear shot, Murphy stepped out of the bedroom. Escorting Spencer down the hall to the master bedroom, he answered the call. “Hey, Boris, what’s up?”

  “Archer told me that you already have your first house guest,” the deputy chief said with a smile in his voice.

  “Did she tell you about the place they had sent her?” Murphy replied.

  Boris said, “Doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

  Even though Murphy closed the door to the master suite, Spencer sat at attention staring at the door cutting her off from the visitor down the hall.

  “Between her, Latimore, and me, we managed to visit the families of the other four victims,” Boris said. “Plus, I talked to Lieutenant Wu about his preliminary interviews and we discovered something extremely strange about this get together that our victims had last night.”

  “I already knew something was up with that party.” Sitting on the bed, Murphy slipped his shoes off. “Two of the victims told their husband’s that they were going to a Cozy Cook party. But there were no samples set out at the crime scene.”

  “Good catch, Lieutenant,” Boris said. “My wife, Claire seems to have one of those parties every month. The sales lady comes out way ahead of the guests to make a mess of the kitchen. They stuff all of our friends with food, clean out their wallets, and then Claire gets a bunch of fancy kitchen stuff that she’ll never use.”

  “Sounds like my mom.” Murphy swallowed to conceal the note of sadness edging into his voice.

  “But there’s more,” Boris said. “Murphy, none of these victims knew each other.”

  “What?” Murphy sat up. “What do you mean they didn’t know each other? They were all in Francine Baxter’s house. She had to know them. She texted Crenshaw to invite her to the meeting. Maybe they didn’t know each other, but they had to know Baxter.”

  “If the victims knew Baxter, then their families didn’t know about it,” Boris said. “No one knows what any of the victims were doing at Baxter’s place, and each family we talked to claimed they never heard of Francine Baxter.”

  Putting Boris on speaker phone, Murphy brought up the pictures of the victims on his tablet.

  As if he sensed what Murphy was doing, Boris asked, “Have you talked to Crenshaw’s daughter about her mother yet?”

  “I don’t want to push her,” Murphy said, “but I’ll go ask her about the other victims now.” After confirming that they would meet the next morning to go over what evidence they had, Murphy went out into the hall and knocked on the guest bedroom door.

  “Come in,” Jessica called out.

  Murphy found that Izzy had changed into a pair of gray pajamas and climbed into bed. Jessica was putting Izzy’s clothes in the dresser drawers.

  “Will I be going to school tomorrow?” Izzy asked. “I’ve got a math test and Mom wouldn’t want me to miss it.”

  “We’ll be talking to your teachers,” Murphy explained. “I’m sure they’ll understand if you miss a few days.” He eased down onto the bed next to Izzy and brought up the pictures of the other murder victims.
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  While zipping the empty suitcase shut, Jessica watched him with concern etched on her face. Her dark eyebrows were furrowed.

  Avoiding his wife’s probing eyes, Murphy said in a soft voice, “Izzy, I know this is difficult for you, but, if we are to catch whoever it was who took your mother away from you, we do need to talk about what happened last night. Did your mother tell you where she was going?”

  “She was going to a business meeting,” Izzy said. “She brought home a pizza and was running late, so she didn’t have time to eat it. She said she would heat it up when she got home, and then she left.”

  “Did she tell you what this meeting was about?” Murphy asked.

  Izzy shook her head. “She said it was important though.”

  Murphy glanced down at the tablet he held in his hand. “Izzy, I’m going to show you some pictures—”

  “Murphy,” Jessica said in a sharp tone while Izzy sucked in a deep breath.

  “No, these aren’t bad pictures,” Murphy told them. “They’re driver’s license pictures of people. Tell me if you recognize any of them?” Careful not to give her the names while he scrolled through each picture, holding them up for Izzy to see the image, the girl shook her head with each one.

  After showing her the last one, Murphy sighed. “Okay, how about their names? Did your mother ever mention the name Francine Baxter?”

  Again, Izzy shook her head.

  “How about Colleen Davis?”

  “No,” Izzy responded.

  “Maureen Clark?”

  Izzy shook her head.

  “Hannah Price,” Murphy asked. “Did your mother—”

  “No,” Izzy said with a shake of her head. “Who are they?”

  “They were with your mother when she was killed,” Murphy said as gently as he could. “We believe whoever killed her, murdered them, too.”

  “All of them?” Tears filled Izzy’s eyes. “How many …” She tried to count but the names were all jumbled in her head.

  “Five,” Murphy murmured.

  “Why?” she blubbered.

  Jessica sat on the bed and hugged her.

  “We’re trying to figure that out,” Murphy said.

  Choking on her tears, Izzy demanded to know, “Why? Why would someone do that to my mom and all these other people? How could someone be so mean?”

  Bursting into tears, Izzy let out a wail. It was as if the lid that the girl had used to seal in her emotions had been blown off to release her sorrow, fear, and anger all at once.

  Unprepared for the outburst, Murphy jumped back from the bed. At the same time, Jessica hurried over from the dresser to take the distraught girl into her arms. Not to be left out, Spencer scurried in and jumped up onto the bed to offer her comfort as well.

  Rocking Izzy in her arms, Jessica told Murphy in a soft voice, “I think you’re done for now. Can you leave us alone? I’ll talk to her.”

  Feeling like a monster for causing the outburst with his questions, Murphy left the room and silently closed the door. In the hallway, he could hear Jessica offering words of comfort in an effort to ease the child’s pain, which he knew from his own experience would not be going away soon.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning, Jessica woke up to the smell of bacon cooking and Spencer kissing her nose with her soft tongue. The pup’s doggie breath quickly overtaking the bacon smell, she rolled over to escape the foul odor. Not to be rejected, Spencer hopped over her to demand attention.

  “Spencer, why don’t you go tell Murphy to take you for a run.”

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth when the alarm clock sounded, which was all the reason Spencer needed to up the ante with barked orders for her to get out of bed. Swatting the alarm, Jessica rolled over to discover that her husband’s side of the bed was empty. She wasn’t surprised.

  Murphy was an early riser. During the week, he would get up at five o’clock to spend an hour working out in the gym or running five miles. Then, he would go to the roof for yoga, finishing off with meditation during the rising of the sun.

  After several weeks, Jessica had finally gotten in sync with her husband’s routine so that she would get up in time to have his herbal tea and protein smoothie waiting for him when he came down from the rooftop. While he started his day with exercise, meditation, green tea and protein; she would wake up to coffee with an exotic creamer and sugar substitute, and a chocolate Pop-Tart.

  Taking in another whiff of the bacon, Jessica concluded that Murphy must have taken a break from his regular routine to cook breakfast for Izzy. While the possibility of a big hot breakfast intrigued her, she was more interested in a few more hours of sleep. It was one o’clock in the morning before Jessica had managed to console Izzy to sleep.

  Finally, lured by the scent of biscuits baking in the oven, Jessica jumped out of the bed and shrugged into her bathrobe.

  It would be rude for me to stay in bed while Murphy is cooking breakfast for our guest. Besides, it’s only right that I check to see how Izzy is feeling this morning.

  Jessica went out into the hallway to find Izzy coming up the stairs from the living room. She was clad in the same Hard Rock Café t-shirt and a pair of baggy khaki shorts that accentuated her skinny legs and bony knees. Her curly mop bounced to the rhythm of her gallop.

  “Good morning, Princess Jasmine,” Izzy said before jogging up the next flight of stairs.

  “Princess Jasmine? Why are you calling me Princess Jasmine?”

  Izzy stopped with a foot in midair. Spinning around, she cocked her head at Jessica, who was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and tucking a stray lock of her raven hair behind her ear.

  How can this child be so wide awake when the sun is only now starting to come up?

  “Cause you look like Princess Jasmine,” Izzy said.

  “Huh?” When another thick lock fell into her face, Jessica finger-combed her hair straight back. She was surprised and glad to see a grin come to Izzy’s face.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you? With your dark hair and pretty eyes? You look like Princess Jasmine from the movie Aladdin.”

  Flattered, Jessica was speechless.

  A small grin came to Izzy’s lips. Her cheeks turned pink. “Thank you for staying up with me all night. You must think I’m a real whack-job losing it the way I did.”

  Jessica took Izzy into a warm hug. “You just lost your mother. I’d think you were a whack-job if you didn’t lose it.”

  Wanting to take part in the hug, Spencer planted her front paws on Izzy’s leg and let out a yap. “Good morning, Blue!” Izzy knelt to give the sheltie a big hug before heading up the next flight of stairs.

  ”Did Murphy make you breakfast?” Jessica asked.

  “No,” Izzy called from the top of the stairs. “Monique’s dad did.”

  “Tristan?” Jessica blurted out.

  “I didn’t catch his name.” Izzy was out of sight. “He let me pet Monique while I ate breakfast. She crawled up my arm and curled up on my shoulder.”

  Jessica heard the door leading to the rooftop terrace bang shut. Izzy was now on the roof to interrupt Murphy’s meditation. Anticipating Murphy’s reaction to learning that her brother had brought Monique for a visit, a slow grin crossed Jessica’s face.

  The rooftop terrace was lined in stone. Four foot tall planters lined the walls to provide privacy from the brownstone next door and other preying eyes. Stone benches ran along the walls and planters. One corner of the terrace sported a six-person hot tub, which was covered with a leather top.

  French doors opened to lead inside to a sitting area and the stairs leading down to the floors below. The second guest room was on the other side of sitting area.

  Murphy had been introduced to clean eating, yoga, and meditation by his martial arts coach while he was at the Naval Academy. A Chris
tian, Murphy figured that if his coach could greet his Buddhist god in the morning with prayer, then why should he not greet his?

  What started out as an exercise in discipline to hone his body and martial arts skills, also sharpened his mind and deepened his spiritual faith. He never felt more in tune than on those days that he felt the first rays of the new day’s sun on his face. In the far corner of the terrace, Murphy was able to catch the morning sun rising in the east.

  “How do you do that?” Izzy’s sharp voice pierced through Murphy’s peaceful aura like a dagger.

  Moist with sweat from his workout in the rec room on the ground level, Murphy was standing on his head, with this body as straight as a board. It was an exercise in complete focus and concentration—which Izzy had just shattered.

  Opening one blue eye in the direction from which the piercing came, Murphy regarded the bony ankles of the girl who was staring at him with her head cocked to one side.

  Gracefully, Murphy lowered his feet behind him. One vertebrae at a time until his feet reached the floor. From a backbend, he stood up.

  “Man, you sure are flexible.” The awe in Izzy’s voice betrayed that she was impressed.

  Before Murphy could respond, Izzy uttered a gasp upon seeing the view of the Washington Monument and other tourist attractions—all from the comfort of their terrace.

  Murphy joined her at the stone wall. “Some view, huh?” He closed his eyes to fill his lungs with the morning air. Slowly, he let it out. Opening his eyes, he spotted a green car parked along the road across from their brownstone.

  A green Volkswagen.

  Leaning over the wall, he peered down to see if he could catch sight of the driver. At the same time, she rose up in the driver’s seat. While Murphy could not see her face, the maroon hair was unmistakable.

  Now that is not a coincidence. Okay, lady, what’s your problem?

  “Is Jessie up?” Murphy asked her while studying the green car and its driver.

  “Yeah.” Izzy plopped down into a chair at the table on the terrace. “Why do you do that?”