Without You

“Am I under arrest, Detective?”

“Not at this point. You’re one of many we’re questioning, though I have to tell you, you have the inside track.”

“Which means I need a lawyer.”

“It’s your call, of course.” The detective paused. “However, I’d like for you to come voluntarily to the precinct and answer a few questions.”

“When?”

“Now.” Gomez’s gaze pinned Jackson like a trapped rat. “If that’s convenient.”

Jackson knew Gomez didn’t give a damn if it was convenient. Voluntarily or not, he was in a heap of trouble.

“I’ll be there. With my lawyer.”

“Thanks,” Gomez responded. “I’ll expect you.”

With that, he turned and left the room. Jackson’s stomach roiled again as he splayed the palm of his hand on the top of his desk to hold him steady. He couldn’t believe Roberta was dead. And in such a brutal manner. Who would do such a thing? And why?

The Roberta he knew didn’t have any enemies, he thought, only to correct himself mentally. She had at least one, one who hated her enough to kill her. A shiver darted through Jackson, and he was chilled to the bone for more reasons than one.

The fact that he was a prime suspect sent another chill through him. He couldn’t ignore that, pretend Gomez and his suspicions would simply go away. They wouldn’t. He was in deep trouble.

What should he do? That was where things got sticky, especially when an answer jumped readily to mind: he could pay a visit to his ex-fiancée. Only, he wasn’t willing to pursue that option.

Yet did he really have a choice? No. He was desperate and desperate people often did stupid things. But this was not just about him. He couldn’t forget about Roberta. He had to find out who killed her. He owed her that much.

He didn’t remember when he hadn’t known Roberta. They had grown up in the same neighborhood. She had been like a sister to him and he’d spent a lot of time at her home, since he had not had one of his own. But like everyone else, Roberta had had her share of problems. She was a “needy” person whom he’d continued to help. Until he realized there was no helping her.

“What was that all about?” Terrance had entered the room.

“Roberta’s dead,” Jackson said in a dull, lifeless tone.

Terrance’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Terrance slammed his mouth shut and shook his head. “How? I mean…” His words faded.

Jackson told him.

“Surely the detective doesn’t think you had anything to do with her death.”

“Apparently he does, as I’ve been issued an unofficial invitation to appear at the precinct for more questioning.”

“Man oh man, that’s unbelievable.”

If you only knew the half of it, Jackson thought grimly. Combined with his other growing problem, this was getting close to becoming more than even he could handle. And he could handle a lot.

Terrance rubbed his mustache, then his beard. “So, what are you going to do?”

“See Hallie.”

Again, Terrance’s mouth gaped. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jackson’s features darkened even more. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion or your approval.”

Terrance flushed, but he stood his ground. “I know you didn’t, but why Hallie, who’s not even a criminal lawyer? Though I’m sure someone in her firm is. If that’s why you’re seeing her—”

Jackson cut him off. “Look, I have to go.” At the door, he whipped around. “I’ll call you. Meanwhile, see to things.”

Terrance lopped a leg over the bar stool, his features pinched.

“What’s with you? You look like someone just stepped on your dick.”

Terrance threw Clyde Latham, the bartender, a disgusted look. “You have a mouth problem, Latham. You’d best not let the boss hear you talk like that or you’ll be in the unemployment line. You know how he feels about offending the customers.”

Undaunted, Clyde grinned. “You’re not a customer.”

“Then, you offend me personally. How’s that?”

Latham was a big, burly guy who was as competent as he was good-looking. He, too, had a gift for gab with the customers, and his big grin and laugh brought a lot of business to Elan. Still, Terrance didn’t much care for him, though he hadn’t said so. He had learned long ago to keep his mouth shut.

Latham shrugged, then asked, “You want a drink?”

“Not right now. I have too much on my mind.”

“If you’re talking, I’m listening.”

He shouldn’t vent to Clyde, but since his girlfriend, Jessica, wasn’t available, Clyde would do in a pinch. Besides, what had just happened affected everyone at the club. “Jackson might be in a bit of a tight spot.”

“How?” Clyde was wiping some glasses, but he stopped mid-action and stared at Terrance.

“Roberta Klein was found dead this afternoon.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not hardly.” The remark irritated Terrance and he didn’t bother to hide it.

“So, what are you saying? That Jackson had something to do with it?”

“No,” Terrance snapped. “But the police obviously think he might have.”

Clyde’s eyes widened, then he whistled.

“The guy who just left was from Memphis PD. He told Jackson he was the last one to see Roberta alive.”

“Man, I hate that she’s dead. She was a nice lady.”