Shoot the Breeze (Detective Kate Rosetti Mystery Book 1) Read online

  “You should really raise your standards when it comes to men,” Melinda said. “Red Lobster doesn’t constitute a fancy date.”

  “Bear with me. I think it’s safe to assume Alison had someplace to be. Where? A date? Was she meeting girlfriends? I’m tempted to say no as this isn’t a girlfriend sort of dress. This is an ‘I’m getting laid’ dress.”

  “How would you know anything about that?” Jimmy asked with a wry smile. “The last time you took a guy home was a year ago.”

  “Shut up, Jimmy,” I said. “You should talk.”

  “I’m married.”

  “Exactly.”

  He shrugged in agreement. “So, she’s got herself a hot date. Where does it go wrong?”

  “That’s what we need to find out,” I said. “Have any witnesses come forward?”

  “Nothing yet,” Jimmy said. “Officers knocked on all the doors with a view of the river road. Nada. At least, nobody’s talking.”

  “They’d talk if they saw something,” I said. “You know how much these houses go for? A three-bedroom rambler fetches an easy million around here. People forking over that sort of money on a mortgage don’t want murders happening in their front yards.”

  Jimmy nodded along. “You think she’s a student from around here?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But I can’t get past the fact she’s got her passport instead of a license. No school ID?”

  Melinda shook her head. “That’s all for identification until we can pull her prints.”

  “I don’t get the impression she’s a student, but I could be wrong,” I said. “So she goes out, probably meets a guy. Definitely a man.”

  Jimmy raised his eyebrows.

  “Strangling ain’t easy,” I said in explanation. “But he didn’t go straight down to business. He hit her over the head first—why? Maybe it was an accident? He got upset at her, hit her, then got carried away?”

  “That would make this personal,” Jimmy said.

  Melinda nodded in agreement. “We do have blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. I’ll try to match the impression for what instrument might’ve been used.”

  “If it was an accident, he might have panicked—hauled Alison into the car and drove around, wondering what to do about it.”

  “When she starts to wake up,” Jimmy continued, “he panics worse.”

  “He decides to finish the job,” I said dimly. “Turns down the darkest street he can find, which lead him to the river. He could’ve come from the St. Paul or the Minneapolis side—hard to say.”

  I paused, glanced across the river then back to the victim, wishing she could talk to me. She might have known her killer. Recognized him. Trusted him, even.

  “We’ll find him,” I said, as much to myself as to Alison. “Are you all good here, Melinda?”

  “I’ll be wrapping things up shortly. I’ll do the autopsy in the morning if you want to join,” she said. “In the meantime, I’ll call you if we find anything else.”

  I reached for the passport with my gloved hand, snapped a quick picture of it. The photo matched the image of the dead woman as far as I could tell. It looked real, felt real. If it was a fake, it was a good one. The crime lab would test to be sure.

  “Where are you off to?” Melinda asked. “You’ve got that look in your eye.”

  “I’ve got some digging to do on Alison,” I said. “But I have to stop at the precinct first.”

  Melinda frowned. “Another case?”

  “A nutcase,” I said dryly. “It’s Jane.”

  Melinda stood, shook the snow off her furry boots. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Kate. Can I buy you a drink tonight?”

  “A big one,” I said. “Bellini’s at seven?”

  “It’s a date,” Melinda said, then gave me a wry smirk. “Wear a dress.”

  I laughed and spun away on a heel. “Is that your offer to buy me dinner and take me home?”

  Jimmy coughed so hard he just about lost a lung.

  I thwaked him on the back. “Easy, big boy. She’s not my type.”

  Chapter 2

  Jimmy dropped me off at the station. I hopped into my car and headed downtown to where Jane was being held. I didn’t recognize the cop working the desk when I signed in, which was probably for the best.

  After completing the logistical rigamarole to bail my sister out, I found her waiting for me in a slinky black dress hiked up to her thighs and boots that inched above her knees. Her eyeliner was smudged, but it didn’t mask her obvious physical beauty. While I’d gotten the tall, plain, and slender genes in the family, my sister had inherited the Betty Boop build that had been attracting attention from boys since she’d bloomed in the sixth grade.

  “Kate!” She waved, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you for picking me up. I thought I’d be stuck here another day. I’ve been waiting on you forever.”

  “Get your things,” I said. “I caught a case this morning. We can talk in the car.”

  Jane sighed and grabbed a glittery silver clutch. “Don’t be mad. It’s not what you think.”

  “It never is.” I led the way to my department-issued car and beeped the doors open. “Where am I dropping you?”

  “About that.” Jane shivered against the cold wind and fumbled with her bag as she slid into the passenger’s seat. She popped the mirror down and pulled out some gloss, swiping it across her lips before turning her hazel eyes on me. She looked as innocent as a child, even with her current attire. “I was hoping I could stay with you?”

  I was mid-sip of my quickly-cooling latte when she asked, and I spluttered half of it back into the cup as I glanced at her. “You can’t be serious. We haven’t lived under the same roof since you turned eighteen and fled the nest.”

  “I know. Maybe it would be fun?”

  I squinted. “Are you in trouble?”

  “Why do I have to be in trouble to want to stay with my sister? I’ll contribute to rent. You won’t even know I’m there. I’ll find a job.”

  “What happened to your job at the real estate office?”

  “It didn’t work out.”

  “Ah.” I lifted my eyebrows. “Mom said you didn’t show up for your shift at the café, either.”

  “I was busy,” she said. “Anyway, please?”

  “I’ll drop you at mom’s.”

  “No! You can’t. Please, Kate.” Jane’s lips turned into a pout, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t have anywhere to go. Mom—she’s got a new boyfriend. I don’t want to stay there. It’s too hard to see her with another man.”

  “It’s been over twenty years since the divorce.”

  “Please, Kate. I’m your sister.”

  “And us living together is about the worst idea ever. We’re as opposite as they come.”

  “I swear, you’ll barely know I’m there.”

  “Jane...” I shook my head. “Where can I drop you? Who were you with when you got picked up last night?”

  “A complete and utter jerk. We’re over. His name was Yanis, and he was an asshole. He’s the one who got me in trouble, and guess what? His girlfriend bailed him out! Can you believe it? He told me he was single!”

  I didn’t comment. Going solely off my sister’s track record, it wasn’t exactly a stretch to believe she’d been duped by a man. Yet again. Frankly, this wasn’t the worst one, as far as I could tell.

  “So, obviously I can’t stay with him,” Jane said. “Mom’s house is out. I don’t have any close girlfriends...”

  I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. Jane reached over, cranked the key on in the ignition and turned the heat up to full blast.

  “It’s freezing,” she said.

  I just stared at her bare legs.

  “Beauty is pain,” she said. “So, what do you say, little sis? Are you going to leave me to fend for myself on the streets? At least give me your pants if you do. I’ll get frostbitten and die otherwise.”

  “I’m not giving you my pants,” I growled. “I’ll
bring you to my house for the day. You can shower and get cleaned up. You’ve got twenty-four hours to figure out a plan that doesn’t involve surfing my couch. Got it?”

  “Oh, thank you, Kate!” she squealed. “Can you take me home first to grab a few things?”

  “I’ve got a case to work,” I said. “I’ll take you tonight. Unless you have someplace you need to be today?”

  “Well, I was thinking of meeting this guy—” Jane turned to look at me, her lips fading into a thin line as she said meekly, “No, I’m all good.”

  I DROPPED MY SISTER off at home after laying down the ground rules: no alcohol, no boys, no staying out all night without letting me know first. Why would I need kids when I had my sister? I glanced back as I pulled away from the little house that I called quaint and my mom called a “work-in-progress”.

  My house was tucked in a small neighborhood near Mancini’s, a west side staple. When I was little, the area had been a booming little Italian hub of eateries and pool halls. We’d ridden our bikes up and down the alleys, straying only as far as we could go and still make it home by the time the streetlights flickered on in warning.

  Unfortunately, the homes in the area hadn’t progressed with the times. While some of West Seventh was going through a hipster-esque re-vamp, the rest of it hadn’t aged for the last thirty years—leaving a strange mixture of new bars and peeling front porches, organic eateries and crumbling fences, flashy cars and foreclosed houses.

  It took me six minutes to get to the precinct, four minutes to get to downtown St. Paul, and thirteen minutes to get to Minneapolis if I flashed my lights and dodged traffic. Until the roof collapsed on me, I wasn’t planning on moving anywhere.

  I pulled up my cell, dialed Jimmy. “Is it okay with you if I do next of kin notification? I’ve got the address from Alison’s passport. Has anyone been to see her parents yet?”

  “We’ve been saving that task for you.”

  “How sweet. I’ll take care of it, then I’ll be in after.”

  “We’re holding down the fort here. No rush. Let me know if you want company.”

  “I’m good. Thanks, Jimmy.”

  I plugged the address into my GPS and took a quick trip out toward Mendota Heights to a residential neighborhood much more manicured than mine. The car wound along the slippery narrow streets flanking the river, and I finally managed to uncurl my knuckles from the steering wheel when I turned onto the wide, tree-lined streets where security stickers sat on every fence and fancy cars dotted the driveways.

  I stopped in front of one of the more intimidating-sized homes and parked along the curb, sliding my feet out onto the freshly plowed street. I made my way to the front door and knocked, scanning the neighborhood while I waited. At least two drapes twitched across the street from curious neighbors.

  When the door finally opened, it revealed a woman somewhere in her late fifties with salon-perfect brown hair. She wore black yoga pants and an expensive sweatshirt, and her lips cracked with just a hint of pale pink lipstick.

  “Yes?” she asked, glancing at my car. “May I help you?”

  “Mrs. Newton?”

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s me.”

  “Is your husband home?”

  “He’s not. He’s at work,” she said with a frown. “Is he in trouble?”

  “No, ma’am, it’s not that. I’m Detective Rosetti.” I pulled out my badge and let her examine it. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “I, um—sure,” she said. “Is this about Alison?”

  “It is,” I said. “But it might be best to talk inside.”

  “Have you found her?”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “We’ve been waiting to hear for ages.”

  “You have?” I hesitated. “Mrs. Newton... is this your daughter?”

  I pulled out my phone and flashed the image of the passport I’d snapped at the crime scene.

  “That’s my address, yes. And my daughter’s name.” She glanced up at me, then pointed a manicured nail at the picture in the small booklet. “But that’s not my daughter.”

  AFTER LEAVING ALISON’S mother—her heartbroken, me confused—I pulled into the precinct and parked. I tossed my coffee cup as I made my way inside, stopping by the breakroom to pour a cup of tar masquerading as coffee. Taking a sip, I wrinkled my nose and made my way to my desk.

  Jimmy was sitting at the desk next to mine, clicking at his computer screen and cursing a blue streak.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

  “Jerks,” Jimmy said, sitting back in his seat. He wiped his forehead off with a napkin. “All of them. These stupid online auctions. I’m trying to get a new pair of kicks for my grandson, and they’re sold out everywhere.”

  “Kicks?”

  “That’s what they’re called,” Jimmy said. “Ain’t called shoes anymore. Anyway, how’s your sister?”

  “Sobering up in my shower,” I said. “She decided she’s going to live at my house for now.”

  Jimmy winced.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “Did anything else come in on the case?”

  “We’re just waiting for the lab results on a bunch of stuff. I got a copy of the passport to Asha—she’s going to call when she finds something.”

  “I’m going to go hound her,” I said. “Do you want to come with?”

  A new countdown flashed on Jimmy’s screen. “Oh, these mother—”

  “I’ll leave you to your kicks,” I said. “Good luck.”

  Jimmy didn’t bother with a goodbye. His trigger finger was already busy on the mouse.

  Asha West was the sort of woman I’d avoid if I ran into her on the street. Half her head was shaved, and the other half was covered in a hundred tiny braids. She had a ring under her nose that made her look a bit like a bull, and the only reason the chief hadn’t kicked her out of the precinct for her smart mouth was because she was a wizard on the computer.

  She grinned, flicked her braids over one shoulder. Asha had a Chinese mother and an African-American father, and somehow that combination had given her the best skin and prettiest black hair of anyone on the globe. If not for the ring in her nose and the fact she was missing half of her hair, she could have had a career starring in shampoo commercials. Luckily for us, she’d chosen a career in hacking, and after one too many juvie pickups, she’d turned straight for the right price.

  “I was just about to call you,” she said without looking back as I approached from behind. “I’ve got something for you.”

  I came around to the side of her desk and paused. “That was fast.”

  “I didn’t promise you’d like it.”

  “I rarely like what you have to tell me,” I said. “And I suspect I know what’s coming. Tell me about Alison Newton.”

  “I think you’ve got a Jane Doe, at least until they pull the prints and try to match dental.” Asha raised an eyebrow. “The passport you gave me is crap. Alison Newton went missing two years ago. She’s never been found.”

  “I figured,” I said. “I followed the passport’s address to try to notify her parents. Right address, right name, wrong picture.”

  “This is the real Alison Newton.” Asha clicked through a few screens that showed a plump young girl at least six inches shorter than our victim. “Any resemblance to your vic?”

  I glanced at the screen and sighed. “I should have known it was too easy. I can’t help but think our prints are going to be useless. Same for dental.”

  “She could be a foreigner,” Asha said. “Trafficking vic?”

  “It’s definitely possible. Young, beautiful, some European features.”

  “I’ll keep digging with facial recognition, but don’t get your hopes up. It can be next to impossible getting a name for these girls. No ID, no family in the country, no medical history of any sort.” Asha shook her head. “As for the real Alison Newton, the poor girl’s probably long dead. Someone browsed missing persons rec
ords and used her name. Easy enough to do.”

  “The only thing I can’t get over,” I said, “is the fake passport. These girls that’ve been trafficked in from Europe have legit passports—they just get taken away by their pimps so they can’t leave.”

  “Assholes.”

  “So why would she have a fake passport? It seems to me we’ve got a college girl caught up in something, but then I can’t figure why she wouldn’t just have a fake driver’s license. What sort of sorority girl uses her passport to get into bars?”

  “What sort of girl joins a sorority?” Asha smirked. “Don’t tell me you were kappa delta bullshit, Rosetti.”

  I winked at her. “I have no doubt you could find out if I was, but I’ll spare you the research. No, I wasn’t what you’d call ‘sorority material’ in college.”

  “I’ll keep digging,” Asha said. “I’ll call you when I find anything. Oh, and detective, there’s one more thing.”

  I waited. “Yeah?”

  “It’s not about the case.” Asha shifted in her seat, flicked a stray braid off her shoulder. “Your sister’s name pinged. You asked me to keep an eye on her...”

  “I know. I picked her up this morning.”

  “Wild party?”

  “What other kind of party is there when Jane Rosetti is involved?”

  Asha grinned. “Your sister knows how to have a good time.”

  “Speaking of a good time, Melinda’s buying me a drink tonight. Bellini’s at seven, are you in?”

  “And Lassie?”

  “I’m sure she’ll be calling the second she catches wind of the case.”

  “Ah. See you then.”

  I left Asha to her work and headed downstairs. The elevator doors opened, and I made my way to the morgue. I strolled down the hallway, glanced through the windows, and saw Melinda perched over her table in her scrubs.

  “Anything?”

  She glanced up as I entered the room, gave me a half smile. “Where’s that flat white?”

  “It’s freezing outside,” I said. “I didn’t have time to stop.”

  “You did this morning.”

  “If I walk over there this second, will you expedite those prints?”