Picture Me Dead

She shook her head. “We were good friends for years. If he’d just been a hot romance, I wouldn’t have known him so well. Curtis, I’m not kidding—Stuart just wasn’t the type to get into drugs. He wasn’t even a heavy drinker. Ever.”

 

 

Nick had come to stand at the end of the bar again, listening as he dried a glass then slid it back on the shelf. “Ashley, maybe it will all work out. Maybe he’ll come to, and then he can tell the police what happened, what he was doing.”

 

“I hope so. And I hope I feel a little better myself, once I see his family. I’m sure they’ll be there. Oh, God. He’s an only child. His parents loved him so much. Love him so much. And still, I’m telling you both, no matter how people change, it doesn’t make sense.”

 

“Honey, there are lots of things in this world that don’t make sense,” Nick told her. “But I think you’re right. Once you go to the hospital, you’ll feel better, I’m sure, if you just bring some comfort to his family.”

 

“Maybe.” Sharon brought a plate of snapper to the bar. “Eat up, Ash.” She rolled her eyes and winked. “I’ll take more coffee to the ogre outside.”

 

Sharon walked away. Nick frowned. “The ogre outside?”

 

“Dilessio,” Curtis supplied.

 

“Jake isn’t an ogre. He’s a decent sort.”

 

“And he lives here now,” Ashley said, grimacing.

 

“He put his name on a waiting list for that slip about a year ago,” Nick told her. “People love this marina. Vacancies are hard to come by. And it’s good to have lots of cops around. Keeps trouble down.”

 

“Of course. But you’ve got an almost-cop right on the premises. I know, don’t say it. The more the merrier, right?”

 

“He’s not a bad guy to know in the department,” Nick said seriously.

 

“Thank God it’s a big department,” Ashley murmured. She ate her snapper. “Nick, if you’re sure you’re all right, I’m out of here. I want to get down there and then actually get some sleep tonight. We fledgling cops have to be in at seven. Curtis, take care. See you soon.” Ashley slid from her barstool.

 

Curtis put a hand on her arm. “Ashley, seriously, if you think something might be up with your friend’s accident, you ought to talk to Jake.”

 

“He’s homicide. My friend isn’t dead. Yet,” she added softly.

 

“He knows his stuff,” Curtis said. “And he’s respected in the department. You are still in the academy. You try calling someone, they may just give you a line. Dilessio calls a fellow officer, he’ll talk away.”

 

Ashley hesitated for a moment. Dilessio was a jerk, and he obviously didn’t like her. But, then, this wasn’t about her. This was about Stuart.

 

“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Okay, wish me luck with the ogre.”

 

Curtis gave her a thumbs-up.

 

She took the coffeepot and headed outside. Jake Dilessio was still reading his files. He didn’t look up as she refilled his cup, just murmured, “Thanks.”

 

She stood there, then slid into the seat opposite him, forcing him to look up.

 

“I understand you’re in homicide.”

 

“Yes.” He looked back at his files.

 

She cleared her throat. After a second, he looked up again. She plunged in.

 

“There was an accident on Friday morning, right after I left here. I drove by it right after it occurred. A pedestrian was struck on I-95. I saw him lying on the highway. He was wearing underwear, and that was it. This morning I read the article on what had happened. It turns out that he was an old friend of mine. The article says he was high on heroin. I knew Stuart too well to believe he did that to himself. He fainted at the sight of a needle.”

 

She had his attention, at least. He was staring at her, eyes dark and brooding.

 

“I’m homicide, Ashley. Your friend was the victim of a traffic accident—apparently, he was the cause of the accident. I remember seeing something about it. The guys investigating it are good, I’m certain. And just because this guy was afraid of needles once, that doesn’t mean he didn’t get into drugs later.”

 

“I know there’s something really wrong with this picture,” she insisted.

 

“You think you know—because this man was your friend.” He didn’t speak cruelly, just matter-of-factly.

 

She shook her head. “Where did he come from? He must have come from somewhere to start walking across the highway in his underwear.”

 

“Ashley, I’ve been a cop a long time, in homicide a long time. On one of my first cases, a couple got high on cocaine and heroin together. They thought they had put their infant to bed. But they set the baby in their microwave and cooked it. Finding what was left of that little corpse is one picture that will stay in my mind all my life, no matter how many cases I work. If your friend even began to get into drugs, he could have gotten hooked badly and done almost anything.”