Sundays Are for Murder Page 18

  After Cris was killed, her father had climbed into his own dark shell. Not unlike her mother. He still walked and talked and functioned, but he became just as unapproachable as his wife.

  Charley wanted him back.

  She wanted for them to be a family again. Even with Cris gone, there was still so much to be grateful for. If he could only see that, for once see the pluses instead of dwelling exclusively on the huge minus, they might stand a chance to be a family again.

  “Not going to get anywhere standing out here, Charley,” she told herself. She hated behaving like a coward. That wasn’t who she was.

  Taking in a deep breath, she went up the front walk and rang the doorbell. There was a key in her pocket that matched the lock, but she never felt comfortable using it. Not since her mother had gone into the hospital. This was her father’s house, not hers any longer.

  When there was no response from inside, Charley rang the doorbell again. She knew he had to be home, because his car was in the driveway.

  Finally the door opened.

  Of average height and slightly wider than average build, Christopher Dow possessed a mane of gray hair and piercing blue eyes. His face bore a sour expression, as if he’d just digested food that was past its expiration date.

  He stood in the doorway, scowling at her. He was clearly surprised by the visit.

  Charley forced a smile to her lips. “Hi, Dad. Mind if I come in?”

  He paused, as if thinking it over, then shuffled back, allowing her access. “You got any news?”

  Charley went no farther than the foyer. Turning around to face him, she measured her words. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Her father came to life before her eyes. Color entered his cheeks. “You caught the bastard?”

  With all her heart, she wished she could have said yes. But she wasn’t here because of the case. She was here because of her brother. Not that David had asked her to come, but she knew in her heart that if the schism between him and their father could somehow be resolved, or simply put aside and forgotten, her brother would be happier.

  They all would.

  “No, it’s not about the serial killer, Dad. It’s about David.” She saw his face fall instantly. The scowl returned. “Your son.”

  “I know who David is,” he snapped. “What about him?”

  “David’s been transferred back to Southern California. He’s stationed at Camp Pendleton.” That was only about thirty miles south of where they lived. When her father said nothing, she continued, coming to the heart of the reason behind her visit. “David’s getting married.”

  She watched her father’s face for some sort of reaction. There was only impatience. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she echoed. “The wedding’s this Sunday. The reception’s going to be at the Hyatt Hotel in Newport Beach.”

  Her father didn’t even blink. “So?”

  She tried very hard not to lose her temper. Not to shout at him and demand to know why he was behaving as if David were a stranger instead of his son.

  Forgive me, David. “So, he’d like you to come.”

  His eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t have enough courage to face me himself?”

  She knew David would have been annoyed if he knew that she was here on his behalf, but there had to be some way to end this unofficial war. Maybe the wedding could be a new beginning for all of them. “Think of me as the scout that was sent on ahead.”

  “Well, you can just go back, ‘scout,’ and tell him I’m busy.”

  Charley refused to drop the subject. “Doing what?”

  “Not attending his wedding. Look, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a son. The kid and I never had anything in common. He grew up, he’s out on his own, Godspeed and leave me alone.”

  Charley dug in. He wasn’t happy being like this. Why couldn’t he see that? “Dad, David’s family.”

  Her words had no effect on him. “So?”

  “We’re a family,” she insisted. “Isn’t it about time we all started acting like one? A lot of people are alone in this world—”

  His expression grew even darker. “I am alone.”

  She knew he was thinking of Cris. And perhaps her mother. “No, damn it, you’re not alone. You have David, you have me.” She paused, her voice softening just a little. “You have Mom.”

  She saw the anger in his eyes. “Who’s a vegetable because you can’t catch your sister’s killer!”

  “Don’t put this all on me,” she shouted back at him. “And Mom’s not a vegetable. She’s just lost—”

  He didn’t wait for her to finish. “Maybe you should take a cue.”

  She knew what he was saying. That he wanted her to leave. Charley drew herself to her full height. Coming here was a mistake. It always was. But she kept on doing it anyway, kept on hoping that one day a miracle would happen and things would turn around.

  But not today.

  “Okay, I’ll go.”

  If she expected him to say anything to stop her, to change his mind or take back his words, she’d left herself open to disappointment. Again. “Good.”

  Charley turned on her heel. She stopped just short of the doorway. “You know, Dad, someday you’re going to regret throwing away what you have.”

  He laughed shortly. “I’ll let you know when that happens.” Not waiting for her to go, he walked away and into the next room.

  Swallowing a curse, Charley slammed the door behind her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHARLEY MANAGED to keep the tears at bay until she was safely inside her car and had pulled away from the house.

  Trying to get a grip, she turned up the radio until it was blasting. Sound filled every inch of space within the car. Normally she’d sing along, but this time she couldn’t. The music didn’t help, didn’t cut through the ache inside her chest.

  Why did he have to be that way? Why couldn’t her father just be happy for David? Why couldn’t he see her career as something other than a means to an end? A means to finding Cris’s killer?

  Damn it, why couldn’t he be the father she needed him to be?

  “You’re twenty-eight years old, Charley. It’s about time you stopped wanting your father’s approval,” she reproached herself bitterly. “It’s just not going to happen.”

  She’d accomplished a lot in her life and she didn’t need her father’s approval to function. But it would have been a nice thing to have. A nice thing for David to have, she added silently.

  “Sorry, David. I tried,” she whispered softly.

  She felt the tears coming and cursed her own weakness. Her father could tie her up in knots better than anyone. She supposed that was part of the reason she’d never had a serious relationship, never wanted one. Because what if the man she fell in love with turned out to be an emotional eunuch like her father? Charley was sure that when her mother had married him, she hadn’t known her husband would be like this. That he would step away from everyone when they needed him most.

  There were plenty of explanations as to why her father was the way he was, but they didn’t alter the situation. The bottom line was that he was unavailable emotionally and probably always would be. She was going to have to make her peace with that and move on.

  With a sigh, she pulled into her parking space at the apartment complex. After pulling up the hand brake and turning off the ignition, she slowly got out of the car. She felt more drained than she had in a very long time.

  When she walked into her apartment, she found Dakota waiting for her behind the door. The dog’s greeting was instant and enthusiastic. Within seconds, she’d been leaped on and repeatedly licked.

  Charley sank down to her knees. She put her arms around the dog’s neck and buried her face against Dakota’s back.

  “You always know, don’t you?” she murmured against the fur.

  Dakota barked, as if in reply. And agreement. The German shepherd stood patiently, waiting for her mistress to pull herself together.


  “You’re better than therapy,” she told the dog, getting to her feet. Reaching for the leash that was hung by the door, she took Dakota out for a walk. They both needed it.

  When she returned half an hour later, Charley gave some thought to dinner. She didn’t feel like cooking and there was nothing in the refrigerator that she could pop into the microwave. She opened the pantry to see if there was anything she could have straight out of a can. Calling for takeout felt like too much of an effort.

  Charley was still rummaging when her cell phone rang. For a moment, she gave serious thought to just ignoring it. But she was too well trained and disciplined to indulge herself. The call could be important. Screening would waste precious time.

  She had the phone out and against her ear by the third ring. “Dow.”

  “Charley, it’s Nick.”

  It hit her how friendly that sounded. How personal. She never called him by his first name when she spoke to him. Maybe she should think about removing that barrier. She’d called Ben by his name an hour after they’d been introduced.

  “What’s up?” she asked. As she spoke, she realized that her voice was still raspy. That’s what she got for crying, she upbraided herself, hoping her partner wouldn’t notice.

  “I had a thought about the case.”

  She tried to subtly clear her throat. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

  But instead of telling her, there was a pause on the other end.

  “Charley, am I interrupting something?”

  “No. I just got back in. I took Dakota out for a walk.” As she talked, she realized her emotions were still in turmoil. Everything had converged at once tonight—the case, her father. She needed more time to pull herself together. “Listen, is this something that can wait until morning? I’m a little bushed.” It was only a little past seven o’clock. Too early to be calling it a night.

  “Charley, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she insisted. She had every intention of leaving it at that. But somehow, more words pushed their way forward. “I just went to see my father. I invited him to David’s wedding.”

  “And?”

  “And he won’t come.” Damn it, she could feel the tears clawing up her throat. What was the matter with her, anyway? She knew her father was like this, and she should have been used to it by now. “Look, I’ve got to go.”

  Charley hung up without waiting for Nick to respond. She didn’t want to be on the phone just in case she started crying again. This was far too personal to share and she had no desire to appear vulnerable.

  With a sigh that went clear down to her toes, she tossed the cell phone onto the kitchen table.

  “I’m going to have to apologize to him tomorrow,” she told Dakota. “Maybe if I’m lucky, Brannigan won’t say anything.” She looked down at the German shepherd’s face. Dakota seemed to take in every word. “Guys don’t like to deal with emotions, anyway.” Right now, neither did she. Charley pulled out a bag of tortilla chips that was shoved in the back of one of the pantry shelves. “Feel like watching something on TV?”

  As if taking a cue, Dakota trotted into the living room and hopped onto the sofa, settling into her favorite corner.

  Charley crossed to the set and turned it on. Armed with the remote control, she sat down beside the dog and started flipping through the classic movie channels. She made a selection based on need, not on interest. She didn’t really care what the movie was, as long as it produced the required wall of noise. When she was like this, she didn’t like the silence and there was something sad about having just disembodied music fill the air once the sun had gone down.

  The flickering images on the TV set kept her company.

  Picking up the bag of semi-stale chips and can of diet soda she’d put on the side table, Charley prepared to have her dinner. But not without help. Even before the first crunch, Dakota had raised her head from the arm of the sofa, looking at her and waiting. The dog liked tortilla chips, stale or otherwise, even more than she did.

  Charley smiled for the first time since she’d pulled her car up in front of her father’s house.

  When the doorbell rang twenty minutes later, she decided to ignore it. But whoever was on the other side didn’t take the hint and refused to leave. The doorbell rang at regular intervals.

  On the fourth go-round, Charley sighed and put the bag of chips on the coffee table. “Keep your nose out of them,” she instructed the dog. Dakota had been trained not to eat anything off the table. Hopefully, the pet’s training would continue to hold.

  Crossing to the door, Charley felt her mood grow a little testy. She didn’t want to talk to anyone outside of Dakota. When she looked through the peephole, the words Go away were hovering on her lips. They never got the chance to emerge.

  Nick was standing on the other side of her door.

  Now what?

  Yanking it open, she greeted him with, “Maybe your watch is fast, Brannigan, but it’s not tomorrow yet.”

  “I know.” Not waiting for an invitation, he walked into the apartment. “This is hot,” he told her. “I need someplace to put it down.”

  He referred to the large rectangular box he was holding. The logo in the center had a short, squat man in a chef’s hat grinning as he flipped a pizza over his head.

  The pizza’s aroma filled the air. Hunger began to nudge at her, reminding her that tortilla chips weren’t considered an acceptable dinner. She tried to ignore it. “I didn’t order takeout. Or company.”

  Flipping open the box he’d brought, Nick looked unfazed by her disclaimer. “I figured you needed both.” He looked around the kitchen and began opening cupboards until he found where she kept her dishes. “Or at least the latter. I need the former.” He took two plates out and put them on the table beside the box. “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

  “Look, I know you mean well, but—”

  Nick took a slice of pizza and deposited it on the first plate, then repeated the process before glancing in her direction. “You’re my partner, Charley,” he told her matter-of-factly. “If something’s bothering you, I need to know.”

  She didn’t like being on the receiving end. She was the one who pried, not the other way around. “Why?”

  Nick sat down at the table. He didn’t answer at first. He was too busy taking his first bite of pizza and evaluating it. The slice wasn’t as good as back east, but it would do, he thought. It would definitely do.

  “Because it can affect what happens out in the field.”

  Charley pressed her lips together. If she didn’t know better, she would have said the man was being sensitive. But men weren’t sensitive. It wasn’t the nature of the beast. Except for maybe David. And Ben.

  In response to his statement, she shrugged. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to get shot because I’m having a bad-hair day. I’ll have your back.”

  About to take another bite, he put the slice down and glared at her. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Charley. There’s something going on with you and you need to unload.”

  “You mean like you?” she asked sarcastically. “Pulling information out of you is like pulling teeth.”

  “Point is, you pulled.” He plucked two napkins from the holder, one for himself and one for her. “Turnaround is fair play. You wanna tell me about it?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” He seemed willing to let the matter drop, but Charley knew better than to let her guard down. He was up to something. “Then I’ll just sit here and eat.” He broke off a piece and held it out to Dakota. The dog was by his side in a shot. She daintily separated the pizza from his fingers without touching his skin. He grinned at the dog, then nodded toward the television set. “You like old movies?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the TV. She’d forgotten what was playing. A very blond Barbara Stanwyck was attempting to coax a very young Fred MacMurray into killing her husband for the insurance money. Not one of her favorites, Charley thought.

  “Somet
imes,” she answered. Nick was holding out another piece to Dakota. Her pet eyed her partner adoringly as she took the second offering. Charley frowned. “Dakota shouldn’t have too much cheese.”

  Nick wiped his fingers. “Duly noted.”

  With a sigh, she sat down opposite him. “You’re nicer than I thought you were.”

  Nick helped himself to a second slice. “I get that all the time.”

  He made her smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “SO,” NICK BEGAN after shifting the pizza box so that they could watch the end of Double Indemnity. Dakota had shadowed his every move, waiting for another handout. Her partner made himself comfortable on her sofa, as if he’d been dropping over every night instead of never. “Are you planning on telling me what’s wrong, or am I going to have to resort to torturing it out of you?”

  Charley placed the plates on either side of the box, then sank down on the sofa herself. Dakota was positioned on the floor between them, an unofficial sentry in charge of watching the contents of the pizza box.

  Toying with the last of her slice, Charley slanted her eyes toward her partner. The handle she thought she had on the man was fading and that bothered her. “You know, I can’t really tell if you’re kidding or not.”

  “You’re not supposed to.” His smile was enigmatic. “That’s one of those things that works in my favor.”

  She’d finished her slice, he noticed. Leaning over, Nick took another slice from the box and eased it onto her plate before taking one more for himself. He was up to three, she was working on her second.

  “Talk,” he told her.

  Ordinarily she wasn’t one to take orders, not from cohorts and only grudgingly from superiors. But this time, for reasons she couldn’t unravel, she did what he said.