“If you’re done arguing…” Cisco rolled his eyes in obvious annoyance. “Heidi’s in here.”
Jude and Fitzgibbon led the way, with Tennyson and Ronan bringing up the rear. They’d only been in the kitchen yesterday, and hadn’t seen any other part of the house. It was a disaster.
The living room was nearly hoarded out. Old newspapers and copies of National Geographic were stacked everywhere. Among other things, board games were piled to the left of the television and puzzles were tumbled to the right. They were all probably gifts from well-meaning friends or neighbors, which had only added to the jumble of junk cluttering the room.
A small path of bare but dirty carpet, led from the kitchen to Heidi’s worn La-Z-Boy sitting in the center of the room and facing a small television set.
“We’re going to have a hell of a time getting her out of here,” Cisco said softly from behind Ronan. “The gurney won’t fit down the path.”
Christ, Ronan hadn’t thought of that. He’d been too busy surveying the room for signs of a crime. “I’ve seen houses like this before, but…” Ronan trailed off. To be honest, the house sickened him, not just the clutter, but the smell as well. He was going to need another scalding hot shower and an entire bottle of liquid soap to scrub this house off of his skin.
“How are we going to be able to determine what’s been disturbed or what is evidence?” Jude wore a confounded look in his eyes.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Cisco didn’t look hopeful. “Ten?”
Ronan felt Tennyson stiffen beside him. Cisco offered him a pair of gloves, but Tennyson shook his head. He knew what Cisco was asking him to do and approached the body carefully.
“Heidi? Are you here? It’s Tennyson Grimm from yesterday.” Tennyson paused, cocking his head to the left to listen. Ronan had seen him do it about a hundred times.
With a shaking hand, Tennyson reached out to touch Heidi’s right arm. “Ahhhhh!” Tennyson half-screamed. His eyes slipped shut while his hand steadied. He stayed that way for about thirty seconds. Gasping, Tennyson pulled away and backed into a stack of newspapers.
Ronan grabbed him before he could fall. “Jesus, Tennyson, are you okay?” Ronan set his hands on Ten’s face. He was ice cold.
Ten shook his head no. He looked around the room, his eyes darting wildly from one side to the other. “There!” He said, pointing across the room to what looked like a fireplace. The area was too hoarded out to see what it was clearly.
“What, Ten?” Cisco asked.
“Red pillow with white stripes. That’s your murder weapon. She was smothered.” Ten clutched at Ronan’s shoulders, still gasping for breath.
“What did you see?” Ronan asked.
“Just the pillow coming toward my face. I couldn’t see who was holding it, but I felt startled, like I was asleep and woke up to the sight of the pillow.”
“Did you hear anything? Spoken words or sounds around the house?” Cisco had his notebook out and his pen in hand.
Ten’s eyes slipped shut as he reached out to touch Heidi for a second time.
Ronan wanted to grab Ten and pull him away from the body, the house, and the entire crime scene. He stood his ground and stayed still.
“The cats were screeching. Wait, there is a voice.” Tennyson was silent again, his head cocked to the left the same as it had been a few moments earlier. “You couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut, could you?” Tennyson’s eyes popped open. He reached for Ronan. “The voice was whispering. I don’t know if it was a man or woman. Before you ask, the hands holding the pillow were wearing black gloves.” He turned to Cisco. “I guess we’re going to have to hope the killer sprayed spit as he or she spoke. It’s the only way we’re going to get any evidence on this person.”
“That’s it,” Ronan declared. “We’ll be outside.” Grabbing Ten’s ice-cold hand, Ronan tugged him toward the front door. He gulped for air when they were outside and standing in the driveway.
Ten was panting too.
“Are you okay?” Ronan asked.
Ten nodded. “I’m fine. I don’t like this case, Ronan. I don’t like it one bit.”
“Me either,” Ronan admitted. He’d made a promise to Cisco and the Washington family that he would find Skye’s killer and he was going to keep it. Come hell or high water.
“Why don’t we head back to the Magick shop and regroup? I could use a coffee.” Ten looked around the street and saw Cisco leading Jude and Kevin out of the house. He waved to them.
“Good plan,” Ronan agreed. He opened his mouth to call out to Kevin when his phone rang. “Huh,” Ronan muttered when he saw the caller ID. “Reagan Pryce.”
“Why the hell is your former defense attorney calling you?” Ten wore a worried look on his face.
“Let’s find out.” Ronan pressed the green button to answer the call. “O’Mara.” That was the last word Ronan got in edgewise. He nodded repeatedly. “Bye, Reagan.” Ronan rolled his eyes.
“What the hell was that all about?” Jude wore a smirk. “I’ve never seen anyone talk over you like that before.”
“It turns out Reagan was also Heidi’s attorney. He needs to see us all in his office. You too, Cisco.” Ronan’s head was spinning. He had no idea why the attorney would want to see them. How the hell had he known they were even in touch with Heidi. Unless she’d called Reagan after he and Ten left the house yesterday.
Cisco opened his mouth, looking as if he were about to object. “Fine. I’ll meet you there.”
“If Reagan was Heidi’s attorney, why does he need to see us?” Tennyson asked.
“I have no idea.” In all the years Ronan had been investigating cold cases, he’d never been invited to see the attorney of a murder victim.
Nothing about this case had gone according to plan so far, why should Heidi’s death be any different?
28
Tennyson
The law office of Reagan Pryce brought back bad memories for Tennyson. Earlier in the year, there had been a murder committed at West Side Magick. Ronan, who’d spent the night in the shop after a fight with Ten, was arrested for the crime. Thankfully, Reagan had been there to defend Ronan from the charges.
“I never imagined being back here again.” Ronan shivered in the overly warm waiting room.
“Neither did I,” Ten agreed. He turned to Cisco. “What is this all about? Why would Reagan want to see us after Heidi’s death?”
Cisco shrugged. “I have no idea. What about you? Are you reading anything with your mind powers?”
Ronan snorted but stayed silent.
“I wouldn’t have asked what you thought if I already knew the answer, Cisco.” Ten rolled his eyes. He was sick of this case. It was ten days until Christmas and he still had a ton of gifts to buy and wrap, but instead of working on his naughty and nice list, he was sitting in the office of Ronan’s former defense lawyer, which smelled faintly of lemon furniture polish.
“Jesus, Ten! What the hell crawled up your ass and died?” Cisco shot back.
“You might want to rethink that tone.” Ronan’s voice was soft, but his intent was clear: Keep talking to my husband like that and I’ll punch you into next year.