Free Perfect Crime by Jack Parker Page A

do.”
    His brow furrowed. “There were reports of gunshots in the Trib garage this afternoon. Know anything about that?”
    Since the sports car with the broken window was sitting in the driveway, it didn’t make sense to be evasive. “I suspect the two incidents could be related.”
    Her companion simply responded, “Blue Audi, didn’t catch the plate number.”
    Tessa was surprised but didn’t let on. Scott wanted her to call the police earlier and report Cy; now he had the chance to do just that and he wasn’t taking it.
    The detective sighed and took out a notebook from his coat. He wrote the scant information down. “See the shooter?”
    Scott shrugged again, appearing bored. “Not really. Are you going to round up the usual suspects?” he asked. With hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels as though being out in the open was of no concern. Slightly unbalanced, he took a step back and then adjusted the computer bag slung over his shoulder.
    “There isn’t a paddy wagon big enough,” the detective replied dryly. He looked up, waiting for either reporter to supply him with a lead. When they didn’t, he said, “Okay then, I’ll fill out the paperwork. Do you have a cell phone number where I can reach you, Mr. Crawford?”
    “Sure,” Scott said, rattling off a number the detective added to his notes. After a few more words, Scott moved off to have a talk with the fire chief. Tessa was left to nervously shuffle her feet with the detective.
    “I’ll offer the same words I did to your friend, Ms. Morgano.” He let the use of her real name soak in for a heartbeat or two before he continued, “Be careful.” With a flick of his wrist, the notebook was closed, and he walked back to his car.
    Tessa was left to stand alone on the sidewalk. She did not respond nor react to the detective. She didn’t exactly carry her Italian heritage on her sleeve but in the same breath, some things are what they are; she had to commend him on his tracking skills.
    Scott came back and told her they could go back inside. “Let me grab some things,” he said, “then I’ll drive you to your place to pack.”
    “Pack?”
    Slipping his hand around the top of her arm, he urged her to follow, “Well, yeah,” he said, looking both ways before jogging the two of them across the street. “If they trashed my place, they’ll go to yours next. And when you don’t show up at Gino’s, chances are good they’ll come looking.”
    Chewing on her bottom lip, Tessa glanced over her shoulder at the distant city sky line while being ushered back into the townhouse; running didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
    She wrinkled her nose; the smell of burnt cloth was strong, and the boxes and couch a soggy mess, but the damage was less than she imagined it would be. “And why wouldn’t I go?” Tessa squared her shoulders in a show of strength.
    He disappeared down the hall, she guessed to his bedroom. She could hear his voice as he shouted back his reservations. “You give them the postcard, and you have no bargaining chip.”
    Tessa insisted, “I need to give Cy the postcard.” It was irritating to talk to him through the wall, so she followed the sound of his voice into the other room. Scott was indeed packing an overnight bag. The black leather carry-on, open on his twin bed, already held the precious laptop. She watched while he added a couple of shirts to the suitcase. Once again, she was struck by how little he had.
    “You do know the card doesn’t mean shit,” the expletive used to accent her point. “Everything around here is symbolic. This is all Cy’s doing. He caught me snooping around, and this is his way of telling me to stop. I hand it back, and it tells him that I’m leaving well enough alone. Case closed.”
    Giving him a sideways glance, Tessa wondered whether Scott believed anything she was saying; even she was having a hard time accepting it as truth. She kept the doubt off her face.
    “It’s a bad