Free Spirited 1 by Mary Behre Page B

O’Dell and I will solve the murder that actually happened.”
    Jones pressed his lips together, then turned his back on Reynolds.
    Seth ground his back teeth but didn’t say anything, too focused on what this twist could mean to his chances of being allowed to finish this case.
    No doubt the case would be turned over to homicide and his chances of promotion would evaporate. Unless he and Jones could convince the captain to let them remain the lead detectives.
    Peterson stuck his head out of his office. “Jones, English, Reynolds, O’Dell . . . get in here.”
    He disappeared back inside without waiting for a reply.
    Seth shared a wary glance with Jones, then led the way past the empty secretary’s desk and into the captain’s office. Two faded blue leather chairs sat opposite of Peterson’s desk. Reynolds and O’Dell all but raced to claim them, smirking at each other as they settled into the seats.
    Seth perched on a corner of the credenza while Jones closed the door then stood at parade rest on the opposite side of Reynolds and O’Dell.
    “What happened this morning?” Peterson dispensed with pleasantries.
    Since he’d been the lead detective on the scene, Seth recounted what happened after he’d arrived at McGivern’s Jewelers. When he explained about Jules vomiting on him, O’Dell and Reynolds snickered.
    “What did you do with her?” Peterson asked, as if not hearing them.
    “She was covered in muck from the garbage and clearly physically incapable of being interviewed. I let her go home.”
    “You did what?”
    “She’s my neighbor. I know where to find her.” Going against procedure didn’t endear him to the captain, so he spoke fast to avoid the full brunt of his superior’s wrath. “I have someone assigned to watch her until I can get back there.”
    “Are you getting soft? So what if she’s sick? Interview her.” Captain Peterson frowned. “I’d expect you of all people to take this seriously. What if she’s our killer?”
    “She’s not our killer, sir.”
    “How can you be sure?” Peterson shook his head. “According to the preliminary ME report, the victim died sometime between three and seven this morning. And according to what your partner learned, the street was closed off for cleaning from four until seven. So unless you were with her between three and four a.m.—”
    “I was,” Seth answered quickly, then frowned at what it must have sounded like.
    “Come again, Detective?”
    “I was with her from eight minutes after three until approximately three forty-five this morning. There’s no way she could have killed the victim and dumped her body in the eight minutes before or the fifteen minutes after I was with her.”
    “Wow, he’s quick,” Reynolds said.
    “Talk about wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,” O’Dell added.
    “If you two are done,” Captain Peterson snapped, but his lips were pressed together as if he were stifling a grin. Turning back to Seth, he asked, “How could you possibly be sure of the time?”
    “That’s when she was in my apartment.”
    “No wonder she puked on him this morning,” Reynolds said with a laugh.
    “She was hung over,” O’Dell added with a smirk. “Late night at the bar?”
    “She woke me up, assholes. There was no alcohol involved.” I think. Seth glared at his former partners, then glanced to his captain. “The witness was in my apartment last night, then I escorted her home at three forty-five.”
    “And you’re certain she was in her home?” Peterson asked with a frown.
    “I am.” Seth paused, expecting more questions, but when none came he added, “At most, sir, she’s a material witness after the fact.”
    “There’s no way she could have known the victim was in the Dumpster?” Peterson ran a hand over his glistening bald head.
    “No, sir,” Jones interjected. “I’d say she had no idea there was a dead body in there when she jumped in. Otherwise, she gave an Oscar-worthy performance in that