Free Yesterday's Echo by Matt Coyle Page B

living room was as normal as sunshine in San Diego.
    Moretti eyeballed her up and down before he spoke. “Miss Malana?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’m Detective Moretti.” He showed her his badge and nodded toward Dan. “This is Detective Coyote. We need to ask you a few questions.”
    â€œOkay.” Melody joined our huddle.
    â€œDo you know a Mr. Adam Windsor?” Moretti asked.
    â€œYes.” Melody said, the smile now tight on her face.
    â€œI’m sorry to have to tell you that he was found dead yesterday morning.”
    Melody sat down on the sofa and stared at Moretti, but I don’t think she saw him. Some of the tan had washed out of her face, but her eyes revealed nothing.
    â€œAre you okay?” I sat down next to her.
    â€œI’m fine.”
    â€œWho’s Adam Windsor?”
    â€œMr. Cahill,” Moretti interrupted, “we’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind.”
    â€œMy ex-husband.” Melody said, her voice flat like her emotions.
    Ex-husband?
    â€œWhat happened to him?” Melody asked, still under control. “How did he die?”
    â€œUndetermined at this time.” Moretti’s eyes bored in on her, a cardsharp looking for a tell. “His body was found at the Shell Beach Motel.”
    Melody gave away nothing. I tried to do the same.
    Adam Windsor. Heather Ortiz’s DB. Melody’s ex-husband. Found dead at her motel. You didn’t have to be a cop to raise an eyebrow at Melody. She hadn’t necessarily lied to me, but she hadn’t been free with the truth. Maybe her ex staying at her motel would have come out eventually. I’d done my own share of withholding. But now there was a dead body, and I was still dealing with one of those from my own past. I wasn’t sure I knew Melody well enough to handle hers, too.
    Moretti said Windsor’s death was undetermined. But, Heather Ortiz had already labeled it an overdose yesterday after talking to Moretti. Maybe he was waiting for the coroner’s official determination before he told the whole truth. When would Melody do the same?
    â€œMiss Malana.” Dan stood over the sofa. “It would really be helpful if you’d come down to the station with us.”
    â€œAm I under arrest?” Melody’s eyes widened.
    Dan shot a look at Moretti and so did I.
    â€œNo.” Moretti gave her a compassionate cop smile. “We just need to ask you a few more questions in a more appropriate environment.”
    â€œI’ll make coffee if you like.” I stood up. Moretti could smile all he wanted; nothing good ever came out of a station house talk. “But Melody stays here.”
    Instinct. Stupidity. Masochism. Any or all could apply, but heavy emphasis on stupidity.
    â€œI warned you, Cahill.” Moretti resumed his position as a wart on my chin. No compassionate cop smile for me. “Miss Malana may or may not be joining us, but you are.”
    Moretti reached behind his back on his belt and I heard the clink of handcuffs.
    â€œDetective Moretti?” Melody stood up. Her voice was highand caught in her throat. “Please let Mr. Cahill stay here. I’ll go with you to the police station.”
    Moretti snapped one cuff around my left wrist and shot hard, black eyes up at me. “You remember this feeling, don’t ya, Cahill? Cold steel pinching your wrists?”
    I figured he was bluffing, but I’d been wrong before. Even though I talked around the truth about knowing Melody yesterday, Moretti didn’t have anything arrest worthy on me. But if his partner backed him up it didn’t matter. He had a badge, he made the rules.
    â€œPlease.” Melody’s voice quivered. “Detective.”
    Dan didn’t say anything else, but trained basset hound eyes on his partner. Maybe he was the kind of cop I had tried to be. And failed.
    Moretti shot a key into the cuff and had it off my wrist in an