Murder Mayhem and Mama

“Have fun,” Brit said, trying to remember when he’d been that excited about anything.

“I will. But I wanted to drop this off.” He moved inside and set a plastic bag on Brit’s desk. A can of cat food rolled out. “I’m glad I’m not the only sucker.”

Brit caught the Fancy Feast. He started to blurt out that he didn’t even like cats, that he’d begun feeding the mama cat and her babies because Keith had been doing it. “I’m just—”

“A softy. I know.”

“I’m not a softy,” Brit said. “Hell, I don’t even know what a softy is.”

Anderson grinned. “I saw you feeding them the other day. I called a shelter, but they couldn’t catch them. Said they’d set traps, but they haven’t come back yet.”

“They’ll kill them if they catch them,” Brit said, remembering Keith saying that.

“Nah, I called the no-kill shelter.”

Brit nodded and decided he liked the kid. “Good.” Anderson started out.

“Hey,” Brit asked. “Did you ever get anything on Cali McKay’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” He swung around and leaned on the door frame again. “He has a record. You’ll never guess what for?”

“Beating up women.” Brit shook his head. Same ol’ shit—different day.

“A real charmer this one. He put one girl in the hospital.”

“Did he do time?” Brit asked.

“Do they ever? One girl dropped the charges. The one he really bruised up, took out a restraining order and ended up leaving town when he broke it several times.”

“Lovely.” Brit snatched up the envelope, remembering the pretty blonde.

“It gets worse,” Anderson said. “We got a call a couple of hours ago. Someone broke into the chick’s place.”

Brit’s gaze shot back up. “They catch the guy?”

“Nah. I’m guessing it was the boyfriend.”

“She wasn’t home, was she?” This vision came straight from his dream. All soft, doe-eyed, and naked.

“No. Looks like she did what you told her to do and left. Good thing, too. I tried to call her at work to tell her about her place, and her boyfriend’s record, but they said she took half the day off. For some reason, we didn’t get her cell phone number.”

Leaning back, Brit let air out through his teeth. “You need to get in touch with her. Convince her to get a restraining order.”

“Like these women ever do what they should.”

“Maybe not, but our job is to try to convince them.”

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Anderson said, his tone implying he wouldn’t try too hard.

Brit stared, annoyed at the kid’s attitude even while he shared it. Hell, half the cops on the force shared it. Still, someone had to talk to Cali McKay.

“Anderson?” Brit called out as the man started off.

He stepped back into the doorway. “Yeah?”

“Where does she work?”

“She’s a school teacher at Wells High.” Anderson smiled. “You liked what you saw, didn’t you? M-I-C-K-E-Y,” the man started to sing, then laughed. “Mickey had some interesting moves last night. Never seen ears look so perky.”

Brit frowned. “Did she give you any other number?”

“Yeah, I have her home and work numbers, and she wrote down some number by the closest relative, but then crossed it out. I left a message at the school for her to call me though and even called the number she marked out. Got an answering machine. I think it might be her mom. But no one’s called me back.” He looked out to the hall. “See ya.” He pushed away from the door.

“Hey. Make sure you take a blanket to the beach,” Brit offered a bit of wisdom.

“A little sand never killed anyone,” Anderson said grinning.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel so hot between the boys and Mr. Happy.”

Anderson laughed. “Make sure you feed the cats,” he said as he walked away.

Brit looked down and opened the envelope from the insurance company. “I will,” Brit muttered. “But I’m not a softy.”

The smell of cigarette smoke seemed to flow from the paper. The first image was of a necklace. And it reminded him how and he and Keith had gone shopping for a necklace for Laura, Keith’s wife, last Christmas.

Closing his eyes, he tossed the stack of photos aside. He didn’t want to worry about missing jewelry or soft-looking blondes getting themselves beat up. He needed to be working on Keith’s case.

He looked at his cell phone on the desk. He remembered the call he’d gotten earlier. The one he hadn’t returned. Laura. Brit figured she wanted to know if he’d caught her husband’s killer. Brit couldn’t stomach the idea of telling her he hadn’t found any solid leads.

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