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“Committed suicide.”
“We’ll get to that.”
“Nothing was taken.”
“Exactly,” Jamie said. “Including Press’s championship ring, which was sitting out in the open on his desk, the most trashed room in the entire house if you’d bothered to look.”
“And not just any house,” Levi continued. “A multi-million-dollar one in Cardiff. Where someone died fifteen months ago.”
“We talked to his business partner earlier today,” Marsh said. “Doesn’t sound like you investigated that case either.”
“Look, he had a history?—”
“What?” Levi cut in. “You assumed because he had a mental health condition and had attempted suicide in the past that it was the same this time? That Mr. Ward just threw himself into that lagoon?” He had seen cases, detectives like this before. More often in the human trafficking context, where asshole detectives like Hines wanted to make it the victim’s fault, but in either case, it pissed Levi off to see someone’s life and their death so easily dismissed. Especially by officers sworn to protect people and to solve their deaths or disappearances.
Cornered, Hines stepped back and raised his hands, palms out. “Look, no harm no foul. In either case. We got a board full of more pressing matters. This wasn’t anything. Either time.”
“Then you won’t mind us investigating,” Kwan said, having Levi’s back, like she always did.
“Why do you care about a random B&E?”
“The current owner is a former player of mine,” Jamie answered. Hines’s wide eyes were further proof he hadn’t given this case a second thought. Clearly not a minute of research.
“You don’t have an interest,” Kwan added. “We do.”
“Fine.” Hines shrugged. “Have at it. One less case on my board.”
“I’ll have the paperwork over to you by the end of the day,” Levi said while mentally calculating the jurisdictional hoops needed to paper it. They’d figure it out, probably before Hines, who was already halfway across the bullpen, would give it a third thought.
“Well,” Levi said, turning back to the table. “I don’t think the sheriff’s department was purposely covering anything up.”
“Agree,” Brax said. “This just doesn’t rank on their priority ladder.” And the former police chief would know, having had to manage a ladder like that before.
“And ours?” Levi asked his boss, confirming the front she put on for Hines was gonna stick.
“Same answer as before,” she said, standing. “It’s your week off. If this is how you want to spend it, go for it.” She paused over the threshold, giving them the same warning she had yesterday. “Just be done by Friday.”
“Seems to be a trend,” Levi said once she was out of earshot. “David gave us the same ultimatum.”
Knowing them well, Charlie grinned. “Who are you more afraid of? Kwan or your kid?”
Levi glanced at his husband; they answered together. “David.”
Ten
Marsh cruised in from the back patio with the last of the empty platters and grilling utensils, savoring the AC and the relative quiet of the kitchen. Outside, the cookout was still in full swing, family and friends from one end of their backyard to the other, chatting with one another and dancing to the music playing on the outdoor speakers. “How are we gonna fit even more people here on Saturday? Our neighbors are gonna kill us. Maybe we should call Aunt Liz and see if we can do it at the mansion.”
“We’re doing it here,” Levi said as he warmed up the espresso machine for after-dinner drinks and desserts. “We’ll just send Jamie to the neighbors with a smile and a pint of barbecue.”
Marsh filched a few bits of pulled pork from the chafing tray and popped them in his mouth. “Not a bad plan.” He wished their other plans for the week had gone better, but Press’s case still wasn’t wrapped yet. Granted, having Jamie here early to contribute to the gut-busting picnic was a plus, but Marsh was worried about the stress Levi was putting on himself, juggling work and family and more visitors by the day. It was good they’d had this cookout scheduled for tonight. It was a break Levi couldn’t get out of and the breather they all needed after pushing hard the past three days.
“So, I was thinking,” Levi started, and Marsh figured he knew what was next. His husband, agent extraordinaire and certified workaholic, was not done pushing. “Maybe I should?—”
Stepping behind him, Marsh twined his arms around his waist and nipped his neck, cutting off the return-to-work comment Levi was about to make. “Maybe you should take the night off and spend it with your friends and family.”
“But Press doesn’t have a place to go home to.”
Marsh slid the tamper out of his hand, clicked the portafilter into place, then clicked the Start button before turning his husband in his arms. “Does it look like Press is having a bad time?” Marsh flicked a glance out the back windows to where Press was at one end of the patio table, animatedly talking with Jamie, Farmer, Trevor, and David, who’d remained in his crush’s orbit since he’d walked in the door. “Last I passed by them, they were laying odds for preseason number one. If Press can take a night off from studying and his murder house, so can you.”
