Dead by Wednesday

Sawyer nodded. “Yeah, me, too. At least I have dinner to look forward to. I’m picking up pizza at Toni’s. Liz invited Carmen over to look at Catherine’s room. I painted it this weekend.”

All damn day Carmen Jimenez had been on his mind. “I’ve been thinking of doing some painting,” Robert said.

Sawyer smiled. “Yeah. But for some reason, I doubt you’re thinking pink.”

Robert shrugged. “What did you use? A gloss, semigloss or a flat?”

Sawyer waved a hand. “I have no idea. I used the paint in the can that Liz brought home from the paint store.”

“Oh, good grief. Now I’ve got to see this paint job. If you get the pizza, I’ll get a couple bottles of wine on my way. As long as you think it will be okay with Liz.”

“Liz adores you. Why, I’m not a hundred percent sure.”

Robert shoved his friend, then had to grab him to keep him from slipping on the snow, which was gathering a top layer of ice as the temperature continued to drop.

“Be careful,” Robert said.

“Be on time,” Sawyer said, getting into his car. “I’m hungry.”

Less than forty-five minutes later, Robert knocked on his partner’s door. He’d had time to run home, take a five-minute shower and grab a couple of bottles of wine off the rack in his kitchen.

While he was perfectly happy in his ultramodern high-rise, he had to admit that he loved Sawyer’s house. A month before Liz and Sawyer had gotten married, Liz and Catherine had moved into the eighty-year-old brownstone. Now the family occupied the first two floors and rented out the top floor to a single woman who spent most of the week traveling.

The house had good bones. Before meeting Liz, Sawyer had already refinished the oak floors, replaced all the lighting and hung artwork that reminded him of the Deep South. Liz had added feminine touches that had turned the wonderful structure into a home.

“Hi, Robert,” Liz said as she opened the door. She leaned forward for a kiss on the cheek. “Come in quickly. It’s freezing.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He could hear the soft murmur of voices from the living room. He heard Carmen laugh, and there wasn’t a cold bone in his body.

Liz peered at the wine. “Very nice,” she said. “The pizza is good but this may put it to shame.”

Robert set the wine on the entryway table, shrugged off his coat, stuffed his gloves in one pocket and handed it to Liz. She hung the coat in the hall closet. There was a royal-blue cape hanging there and he suspected it belonged to Carmen.

It was crazy but he liked seeing his coat next to hers.

He picked up the wine and followed Liz into the family room. Like any good cop, he took in the details quickly. Fireplace was lit. Soft jazz played in the background. Catherine lay on her back, on the very nice rug that had been one of Liz’s contributions to the house. Both plump little legs were moving, as if she were pedaling an invisible bicycle. Sawyer was stretched out next to her.

Carmen was sitting in the chair, leaning forward, looking at the baby. The light from the fireplace cast a soft glow around her. She wore a red sweater and black slacks. Her long dark hair flowed over her shoulders.

She was beautiful.

And when she turned, he saw that she wasn’t surprised to see him. Her face was composed, polite. And he should have felt much the same. After all, he’d known that she was going to be here. That was why he’d wheedled an invitation with some crazy excuse that he was interested in paint. Paint, for God’s sake. It was ridiculous.

And it was pretty damn ridiculous, too, that just looking at Carmen made him feel short of breath and a little unsteady on his feet.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he managed.

Sawyer sat up. “Cold beer in the fridge.”

Robert nodded. “I’ll stick with this,” he said, holding up the wine. He looked at Carmen. “Can I get you a glass?”

She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Liz reached for the wine. “I’ll get some for both of you. I need to check the pizza anyway. We put it in the oven to keep it hot.” She took a step. “Have a seat, Robert,” she said gently.

He sat. And felt like an awkward sixteen-year-old at his first prom. His shirt felt too tight and his heart was racing in his chest.

The only noise in the room was Catherine’s happy squeals. Carmen stared at the fire. He stared at the antique umbrella stand in the corner of the room.

Sawyer looked from Carmen to him and back again. Finally, his friend sprang to his feet. He reached for Catherine and cupped her in the crook of his elbow. “Liz probably needs my help in the kitchen,” he said as he left the room.

Now there was just silence.

Sawyer had probably been gone for less than a minute when Carmen turned her head. “I don’t think Liz really needs his help.”

He relaxed. “Maybe if we were having grits and chicken-fried steak.”

“Ugh,” she said with a smile that made her even prettier. “I’d suddenly have to run an errand.”

“I’d drive you,” he said. “Although to be fair, the man makes a great gumbo. He brought some into work one day, and it made me nostalgic for my last trip to the French Quarter.”

“I think I’d love New Orleans,” she said. “Maybe someday.”

The kitchen door swung open, and Liz emerged holding two wineglasses. “Follow me,” she said, leading them to the dining room. There was a huge pizza in the middle of the table with a big bowl of salad next to it. Sawyer was clipping Catherine’s high-chair tray on.

They sat, and Catherine immediately started squealing and pounding her plump fists on the high-chair tray. Liz smiled apologetically. “Sorry. This is the kind of ambience we have now.”

Robert dished out a slice of pizza and handed it to Carmen. “No problem. Table manners like her father.”

They were done with their pizza and cutting into the cheesecake that Carmen had picked up at the bakery after work when Robert’s phone buzzed with an incoming text message. He glanced at it, shook his head and turned his phone upside down on the table. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“Bad news?” Liz asked.

“A reporter from the newspaper,” he explained. “She’s evidently not getting enough of a story from Blaze and Wasimole, so she tracked me down. I imagine she got the number from one of the people we talked to today. We generally leave a card in case they think of something that might be helpful.”

“These killings are the only thing the local talk show hosts were discussing today,” Liz said. “It’s getting very scary.”

It was horrible, thought Carmen. With Raoul being about the same age as the other victims, it made her sick to hear people talking about the stories. Her heart ached for the terrible loss that the families had suffered, for the pain the boys had endured. “I didn’t know if I should say anything to Raoul,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to scare him unnecessarily but I also didn’t want him to be naive.”

“Where did you land on it?” Robert asked.

“I left the newspaper on the table one morning, folded so that he could easily see the headline. He read the story and that gave me the opportunity I was waiting for. I tried to gently suggest that it was important to be careful, to always be watching.”

“What did he say?” Liz asked.

Carmen rolled her eyes. “He said, and I quote, ‘Sis. There are three million people in the city of Chicago. Eight million if you count the suburbs. I don’t think anybody is looking for me.’ I didn’t push it. I’m crazy enough about other things, like brushed teeth and pants that stay up around his waist.”