Free A Kiss to Kill by Nina Bruhns Page B

can’t, either.”
    “Detective McPhee,” he said with studied patience, “I would sincerely appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”
    “And what matter is that, SAC Montana?”
    He sighed. And to her surprise, chuckled. “Okay. I surrender. Tell you what. Why don’t we meet and discuss this over lunch? My treat.”
    Uh-oh .
    “No pressure,” he added. “Just a friendly exchange of information.”
    Ri-ight . Still. Against her better judgment, she was intrigued. What had this vic been into? Knowing that could help in her murder investigation.
    She checked her day planner. Four hours until she had to be at the M.E.’s. “All right. How’s fifteen minutes? Where would you like to—” The buzzer on her intercom sounded. “Hang on.” She pushed the button. “Yeah?”
    “You up?” came the voice of the dispatcher.
    “Yep.” She grabbed her notebook. Because Jonesy and another detective were testifying in court today and two others were out at another call, she was up in the duty rotation again.
    “DB reported at Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens on Anacostia Ave.” The dispatcher rattled off the relevant information.
    Ah, well. So much for lunch.
    “Got it.” She pushed the line for the feeb. “Sorry, duty calls,” she told Montana. “I’ve got a homicide.”
    Montana promptly said, “Where? I’ll meet you at the scene.”
    Okay. “Look, I don’t—”
    “I’ll bring lunch with me.”
    All sorts of alarm bells went off in her cop brain. Definitely Men in Black. She better watch herself if she didn’t want to be turned into an alien. Or worse, have the FBI horn in on her case.
    “How ’bout I call you when I get back?” she suggested. “Good talking to you, SAC Montana.” She hung up. Without getting his number. If it was important, he’d call back. Which would give her a chance to be better prepared. But meanwhile, she had a case, and with any luck she’d be away from her desk for the rest of the day.
    Kenilworth Gardens, eh? The little-known national park situated along the Anacostia River was dedicated solely to water plants. An unusual place for a murder.
    She grabbed her things and made the fifteen-minute drive, pulling up just as the assistant M.E. did. He got out of his BMW and gave her a smile and a wave. “Detective McPhee. Busy day, huh?”
    She smiled back. “Thanks for the quick turnaround on those prints last night, Dr. Stroud.”
    “No problem. And please, if we’re going to be cutting up dead bodies together later, call me Johnny.”
    She tried not to choke. On either count. “All right. And I’m Sarah.”
    They walked through the ugly gate that led into the park, and followed the dirt path down to the ponds where the new vic had been found. The thick smell of standing water and wet earth filled the air, along with the buzz of awakening spring insects.
    Since the murder scene hadn’t been released by the CSI team yet, she halted when they hit the outer edge of the built-up maze of man-made ponds. With a wave, Dr. Stroud—Johnny—kept walking onto a narrow levee between them. “Give me five minutes.”
    A handful of gardeners in muddy hip waders and the park ranger in a Smokey hat milled about, observing the police activity from a roped-off section of the path where they’d been herded. She joined them.
    The shallow green ponds themselves were for the most part bare of vegetation, save for a glutinous haze of slime and algae. She didn’t know much about plants in general or water plants in particular, but her mom had kept a pretty pink tropical water lily in a half-whisky barrel on the back deck growing up, and it had to be taken in each winter and set out again in spring.
    The official last frost date in D.C. was just a few days away—although Sarah never put her tomato plants out on her apartment’s microscopic balcony before Mother’s Day. So she wasn’t surprised to observe big white buckets filled with rotting plant detritus sitting along the water’s