Cause of Death by Laura Dembowski (sci fi books to read .TXT) 📕

“What happened between you two?”

I pause again. Kate stares into my eyes.

“She caught me cheating.”

“Then you two should just break up.”

“She doesn’t want to do that,” I say.

“As long as you want to, I don’t really think that matters.”

“She’s blackmailing me.”

It just comes out. I’m not sure if it says more about Kate’s skill as a detective or my inability to keep my fucking mouth shut.

“Who’d you sleep with?” Kate asks.

I say nothing.

“Who the fuck did you sleep with, Ryan?” she asks again.

“Beth,” I mutter, so low that even I’m not sure what I said.

“What?”

“I slept with Margaret’s sister. Beth Cambridge.”

“Oh my God!” Kate shrieks, then flops back in her seat. She pops back up and continues staring at me. “Slept with, or are still sleeping with?”

“Still sleeping with.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“You could be fired! You could put this entire case in jeopardy. You are going to ruin everything.”

I say nothing. She is right. This issue is black and white. Plain and simple. I fucked up.

She puts the car in drive and pulls back onto the road.

We drive in silence until we reach the entrance to the neighborhood.

“Are you going to turn me in?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Don’t talk to me. Let’s just do this and worry about everything else later.”

She’s mad at me, I can tell. I don’t like it, but I know I deserve it, and at this moment, there’s nothing I can do to change her mind.

We walk up to the house. Margaret answers the door, looking a bit worse for wear, not like her normal put-together, perfect-suburban-housewife self.

“Detectives,” she says with a sigh when she opens the door.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Moore,” Kate says.

“What can I do for the two of you?”

“Is your husband home?” I ask.

“Actually, he’s returned to work—finally. It’s been a good distraction for him,” she says, with a slight smile.

“We’re glad to hear that,” Kate says. “May we come in?”

Margaret doesn’t reply, instead opening the door further and directing us inside. She looks at us once the door is closed and we are all in the foyer.

“We need a DNA sample from you, ma’am,” I say, to break the silence and get this day moving.

“For what?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know why we could possibly want a sample from her.

“Because we found DNA on your daughter’s body and we need to see if you’re a match,” I reply.

“I have no doubt my DNA could very likely be on my daughter’s body. We lived in the same house, shared food and hairbrushes, makeup, even. I’m sure Dave’s DNA is on her body as well.”

“We just need a sample.”

“Well,” she says after a pause, “I have nothing to hide. My daughter committed suicide.”

In the chaos of the ride over, not only had my excitement over confronting Margaret waned, but we had neglected to fill her in on the most important fact.

“Your daughter’s death has been officially ruled a homicide,” Kate says matter-of-factly, not making eye contact with Margaret.

Margaret puts the back of her hand against her forehead and leans on the wall.

“A homicide? You are telling me someone broke into our house and killed Lana? I demand a new autopsy—a new investigation. New detectives!” she shouts.

“You would have to exhume your daughter’s body for that,” I say.

“I’ll do it!”

“Chances are that another autopsy would be much less conclusive and not stand up very well in court, since the body has been embalmed and buried. The samples used in this autopsy were taken before embalming. The reason we had to wait so long for results was because our medical examiner was running extensive and thorough tests,” Kate calmly explains to Margaret, in soothing tones meant to calm almost anyone down.

Anyone except Margaret.

“How am I supposed to go on?” Margaret wails.

“I don’t know,” Kate says.

The house is too quiet for my comfort. I can hear our breathing. In and out. In and out. I’m pretty sure there’s a chance we would all like to stop breathing at this point.

“But for now,” Kate continues, “at this moment, we need some of your DNA to help us find Lana’s killer,” Kate says.

Margaret grimaces as she looks at both of us, snapping into a different mode, practically a different persona.

“How do we go about this?”

“It’s easy,” Kate says, looking over at me, standing there like a statue. When I don’t make any move to help, Kate pulls a DNA kit out of her bag. “I’ll just swab the inside of your mouth and we can be on our way. We’ll also need a sample from Mr. Moore, so if you could tell him to drop by the station, or let us know when he’s home, that would be great.”

“Sure,” Margaret says, then opens her mouth. She stands there like that while Kate opens the packet, puts on the enclosed latex gloves, frees the swab from its sterile plastic tube, and forcefully wipes the inside of Margaret’s mouth. Her jaw must be tired after the two or so minutes it takes for all of this to take place.

“We are all set,” I hear Kate say as I pick up my phone, vibrating away in my pocket.

It’s Sarge.

I walk to the other side of the room, giving me some semblance of privacy.

“Yeah, Sarge.”

“I need you to come back to the station. Are you almost finished there?”

“Yup. We’ll be on our way in a couple,” I say.

“Make it speedy,” he says.

He’s never called me before to tell me to come back to the station when I’m out on a case. Ever. I wonder if I’m headed for another investigation. My mind spins with the possibilities.

Shit. Tracy must have turned me in. I have no idea why she would do such a stupid thing, but I’m almost certain this is all because of her. Sarge needs me to return to the station, turn in my badge and gun. I’ll probably be charged with obstruction. The case will have to be