After Hours Read online

  Discover heart-racing intrigue in this Thriller Short of romantic suspense.

  Originally published in LOVE IS MURDER (2013),

  edited by #1 New York Times bestselling author Sandra Brown.

  In this Thriller Short, bestselling author William Bernhardt shows how hidden love can lead to happiness—or death.

  Morelli and Baxter are partners on the Tulsa police force. But what no one knows is that they are partners in private, too. Together they are called in to work the murder of Kim Masters, but Masters’s blameless life leads to no suspects. Her lover, Terry Farnum, appears bereft and has no motive. If anything, it’s Farnum, deep in debt to the mob, who should be dead, not Masters.

  And that’s just one anomaly among many in Masters’s case.

  Don’t miss any of these Thriller Shorts from Love Is Murder:

  Diamond Drop by Roxanne St. Claire

  Cold Moonlight by Carla Neggers

  Poisoned by Beverly Barton

  Speechless by Robert Browne

  Lockdown by Andrea Kane

  Spider’s Tango by William Simon

  Night Heat by Laura Griffin

  B.A.D. Mission by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Deadly Fixation by Dianna Love

  Hot Note by Patricia Rosemoor

  Last Shot by Jon Land & Jeff Ayers

  Grave Danger by Heather Graham

  Without Mercy by Mariah Stewart

  Even Steven by D.P. Lyle

  Dying to Score by Cindy Gerard

  The Number of Man by J.T. Ellison

  Hard Drive by Bill Floyd

  After Hours by William Bernhardt

  Blood In, Blood Out by Brenda Novak

  Wed to Death by Vicki Hinze

  The Honeymoon by Julie Kenner

  Execution Dock by James Macomber

  In Atlantis by Alexandra Sokoloff

  Break Even by Pamela Callow

  Dirty Down Low by Debra Webb

  Broken Hallelujah by Toni McGee Causey

  Holding Mercy by Lori Armstrong

  Vacation Interrupted by Allison Brennan

  I Heard a Romantic Story by Lee Child

  After Hours

  William Bernhardt

  CONTENTS

  AFTER HOURS

  William Bernhardt

  William Bernhardt

  There are enough twists in this story to warrant one of those road signs with a snaky arrow on it. Buckle up. ~Sandra Brown

  AFTER HOURS

  Major Morelli shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. “Damn it all to hell.”

  Morelli’s partner, Lieutenant Baxter, was so stricken she could barely speak. “It’s…a tragedy, that’s all,” she finally spit out in a halting, broken voice. “Just…a tragedy.”

  The corpse sprawled across the king-size bed was, Morelli thought, perhaps the most luminous woman he had ever seen. Even now, with the color drained from her face, she possessed a spellbinding quality that he rarely observed in the living or the dead. A purity that came only with youth. A feminine dignity that even so much blood could not obscure.

  “Must’ve been a heartbreaker,” Morelli added, to no one in particular.

  “And so young. Hell, I got a niece about her age.” Baxter turned her back on the grisly tableau. “Think of everything she’ll miss, everything she’ll never know. Just makes me sick.”

  “Try to keep your emotions out of it,” Morelli warned. “We have a job to do.”

  “You’re always in control, right? Always the professional. Even when you’re looking at a crime so horrible it makes your stomach turn. Makes you want to give up being a cop and just slit your wrists.”

  Morelli didn’t blink. “Let’s interview the boyfriend.”

  On his way out of the bedroom, Morelli glanced through the still-open sliding door that led to the terrace. The Tulsa skyline beckoned with twinkling lights and an irregular skyline, innocent as a Christmas tree. He loved this town, loved its earnestness and well-meaning naïveté. Working here was like policing feral beast outbreaks in a wildlife preserve. Who would dream that even here, after hours, you could discover a horror like this?

  He headed into the main living room where Baxter was already waiting. Dr. Barkley, the county coroner, had arrived. He was younger than Morelli and it showed. He had the expertise of a doctor and the aspect of a surfer dude, a combination Morelli never failed to find disturbing.

  “She’s in there.” Morelli jerked his thumb back the way he’d come. “I’d like to know as much as you can tell me as soon as you can tell me.”

  Barkley frowned. “Mike, you know I can’t reach any final conclusions until I’ve—”

  “Yeah, I know the drill.” Morelli placed his finger on the lapel of Barkley’s overalls. “Nonetheless, I want to know as much as you can tell me as soon as you can tell me. I’d like a preliminary report in fifteen minutes. Understood?”

  “Whatever.” Barkley passed wordlessly into the bedroom.

  “Bit grumpy tonight, aren’t you?” Baxter asked.

  “Just reminding the coroner who works for whom.”

  “No, that girl is getting to you. The corpse. You’re totally on edge.”

  “Don’t like having my sleep disturbed.”

  “That I already knew.”

  She handed him the photos from the videographers, as always, careful that their hands didn’t touch.

  The affair started years ago. First it was an unexpected kiss during a stakeout. Now they spent most weekends together. No one knew. Departmental regulations didn’t permit intimate relationships between officers. If word got out, one of them would have to quit. Not to mention put up with endless harassment from fellow officers.

  Morelli crossed the living room of the penthouse apartment. Baxter followed. They found the boyfriend huddled in the far corner of an elegant white sofa.

  He was a delicate, slender man—in some respects as beautiful as his slain companion. His hair had been buzzed down almost to the scalp. Ironically, the extreme crew cut did not give him a hard, military appearance but instead made him seem simple and unadorned, almost childlike. His face was red and swollen to such a degree that Morelli couldn’t get a clear impression of his features.

  Morelli opened his notepad and checked the name. “You’re Terry Farnum?”

  The man nodded slightly.

  “You knew the girl? Kim Masters?”

  His response was more a tremble than a nod.

  Times like this Morelli hated his job, absolutely hated it. Farnum was grieving hard, and nothing was worse than trying to pry information out of someone who really needed a comforting arm around the shoulder.

  “Could you describe your relationship?”

  Farnum pressed his hand against his forehead, obscuring much of his face. “We were in love.”

  “I see.” Damn this job. He had to keep pushing. “How long had you…uh…been together?”

  “Almost seven months now.” His voice cracked when he spoke. “I met her in this club I own down on Peoria. The Red Parrot. When I first saw Kim, I—I can’t explain it. You know how, sometimes, you look back on a particular moment in your life and you realize, that was when everything changed? That’s how it was when I connected with Kim. From the very first, I knew this was something special.”

  “I gather your relationship was—” Morelli coughed into his hand “—sexual in nature.”

  “It wasn’t the most important part of the relationship, but yes. That first night, after I finally worked up the courage to speak to her, she came home with me. But there was nothing chea
p or sleazy about it. She may look young, but she’s an adult. And so smart. We stayed up all night talking, telling secrets, baring our souls. She had not led an easy life. She was confused, troubled, despondent. Said no one understood her. Felt everyone was judging her, finding her inadequate. She was on the verge of suicide. ‘Why can’t people just let us be who we are?’ she said. ‘Why can’t we be who we want to be?’”

  Farnum closed his eyes. “I told her not to worry. Told her she was safe with me. Told her everyone is entitled to a small measure of happiness. And that included her. I don’t know how to explain this but, by the time the sun rose, it was as if—we both knew. Can you understand that? We both knew this was right. It was only natural that we should become lovers. Natural and so very right. She was the great romance of my life. Nothing else came close.”

  Morelli watched Farnum’s face carefully. The police department’s initial suspect was always the spouse or significant other. But watching this man’s grief-ridden face, hearing his cracked and broken voice, Morelli found it impossible to believe he would do Kim Masters any harm.

  “Do you know anyone who might have reason to kill Kim?”

  Farnum shook his head. “I can’t imagine. She quit her job, after we got together. She lived here with me. Most days, she never even went out, unless it was a brief trip to do some shopping or some such. She had very little contact with other people. I think…I think she liked it that way.”

  “What about yourself?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does anyone bear a grudge against you? Someone who might try to get to you by killing your girlfriend?”

  Farnum’s eyes widened, suddenly and horribly. “No. I mean, I can’t—It wouldn’t—No.”

  Baxter cut in. “But there is someone with an ax to grind against you? Right?”

  Farnum’s eyes dropped a notch. “I…owe some money. Business at the club dropped off this year but, unfortunately, my debts didn’t. I had to borrow. It’s purely a business arrangement.”

  “With the mob?”

  Farnum took a deep breath. “Do you know a man named Albert DeCarlo? Intercontinental Imports?”

  Morelli did. DeCarlo was the top mobster in Tulsa Town. Inherited the position from his daddy. Intercontinental Imports was a front for all his illegal operations. “I know him.”

  “He likes to hang out at my club. Has for years. But only recently did we have occasion to do business together.”

  “How much do you owe?”

  “Half a million.”

  Morelli whistled. “And DeCarlo wants to be paid.”

  “He’s expressed that desire on repeated occasions, yes.”

  “Maybe the hit was a warning,” Baxter said. “Pay up or you’ll be next.”

  “I don’t think so. I mean—well, I know that isn’t so.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “For one thing, I told DeCarlo yesterday that I’m taking bankruptcy. My assets are all in the control of the receiver now. It wouldn’t matter who DeCarlo killed. He’ll never get more than ten cents on the dollar.”

  Baxter flipped her long brown curls behind her shoulders. “That wouldn’t deter that bloodsucker. He might’ve thought that if he pushed you, you might find some more money somewhere. Or maybe the hit was to teach you a lesson. Or to send a message to the other schmucks who owe him money.”

  “I’ve known DeCarlo for years. Since he was a lieutenant working under his father. That isn’t his style.”

  “But you said—”

  “You asked if I knew anyone who had a grudge against me, and I do. But if DeCarlo wanted to send a message, he would’ve hit me, not Kim. He fancies himself a respectable businessman, in his own twisted way. He might’ve had me rubbed out, but he would never murder an innocent third person.”

  “That’s a crock of—”

  Morelli stopped her in midsentence. “No. He’s right.” Morelli was familiar enough with DeCarlo’s file to know. The young DeCarlo had been linked to a number of high crimes, including contract killings. But no one had ever suggested that he’d struck against a target’s wife or family or loved ones. He considered it a point of honor. He wouldn’t ice the woman to get at Farnum, no matter how much money was on the line.

  “Okay,” Morelli said, “if not DeCarlo, then who was it?”

  Farnum shrugged. “If I knew that, don’t you think I’d tell you?” He wiped puddles from his eyes. “Maybe a burglar.”

  “The terrace door was open,” Baxter noted. “A burglar with good rappelling gear could have lowered himself from the roof.”

  “These are very expensive apartments. Most of the tenants here are loaded. We’ve had a lot of break-ins lately. Maybe Kim caught someone in the act.”

  Part of that was true—the Malador had a crime rate way above average. “We’ll check it out,” Morelli promised. He glanced up at Baxter. “Anything else you want to ask?”

  “Well—yeah. You haven’t asked about the victim’s family or friends or bad habits or—”

  “I think that’s enough for now.” True, they hadn’t covered all the bases, but he wanted to know more about the crime itself. And he wanted to give poor Farnum a break. “Let’s see if the coroner can shed any light on this mystery.”

  Morelli returned to the bedroom. He stopped just before he entered and pulled his cell phone out.

  “You going to pick up DeCarlo?” Baxter asked.

  “I don’t see the point. But I would like someone to speak with him.”

  “He’ll deny everything.”

  “But he might tell us something useful, just the same.” Morelli snapped his fingers. “Do you know a mug named Ernie Bartello? They call him Bart the Dart.”

  “DeCarlo’s top enforcer, right?”

  “Right. If DeCarlo had this done, Bartello’s the one who did it. And if I’m not mistaken, Bartello likes to hang out at the Velvet Rose when he’s not working.” He punched a few buttons. “I’ll send someone out to pick him up. You send someone over to visit with DeCarlo.”

  After they made their respective phone calls, they entered the bedroom.

  Barkley was in the process of covering the corpse with a bedsheet. Apparently he had finished his preliminary investigation.

  “What’ve you got for me?” Morelli asked.

  “As I said before, it’s too soon to—”

  “What’s the cause of death?”

  “There is a bullet wound to the abdomen, near the heart. But I can’t say—”

  “What about the time of death?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Was she killed here?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Did she know her attacker?”

  “Can’t say.”

  Morelli got right up in his face. “Look, Doctor, we’re investigating a murder here—the murder of a beautiful young woman who, as far as we know, never hurt anyone. Most crimes are solved in the first six hours—if they’re solved at all. So we need to know everything you can possibly tell us. Right now.”

  Barkley batted his eyelashes, as if the pool bully had splashed water in his face. “I guess there’s one thing I can tell you about this…beautiful young woman.”

  “What’s that?”

  The barest glimmer of a smile flickered across his face. “She’s a he.”

  * * *

  Baxter looked as if someone had kicked her in the stomach. “What are you talking about? There’s no way—”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t notice it yourself.” Barkley flipped the sheet covering the body up, then replaced it. “I’m going to arrange to have him taken to my office as soon as your forensic teams have finished scouring the crime scene.”

  Morelli was just as stunned as Baxter, but he would ne
ver let it show. “I think we’d better have another talk with Mr. Farnum.”

  * * *

  Major Morelli squared himself in front of Farnum, contemplating how to proceed. He made half a dozen false starts, searching for the right words to broach the elephant now in the room. Farnum had referred to Kim as her. Did he think they wouldn’t find out? Was he too embarrassed to mention it? Or did he really not know the truth?

  Morelli coughed into his hand, clearing his throat. “Mr. Farnum…uh…you say you’ve known Kim Masters almost seven months?”

  “Right. Since that first night I brought her home.”

  “And that was the first night you spotted Kim in your club?”

  “Oh, no. I admired her from afar for weeks before I spoke to her.”

  “Why did it take you so long?”

  “I don’t know. I was hesitant. I have some…personal eccentricities. I’ve learned to choose my companions carefully.”

  Morelli and Baxter exchanged a glance.

  “Is something wrong?” Farnum asked. “Something about Kim? My God—what did they do to her?”

  Her.

  He didn’t know. Morelli was certain of it. No one could keep up a charade this long or this well. Farnum had been with her for months, but he didn’t know.

  Morelli proceeded. “You did say, didn’t you, that you and Kim Masters had a sexual relationship?”

  “I don’t see that that’s any of your concern.”

  “Believe me, if it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t ask.”

  Farnum folded his arms across his chest. “Yes. What of it?”

  “And…did you…” Morelli wiped his hand across his brow. “Do you mind if I ask what exactly it was you two did?”

  Farnum’s face tightened. “Not at all. Right after you tell me what you and your wife did in bed last night.”

  “I’m divorced.”

  “All right then. You and your girlfriend. You and your plastic blow-up doll. Whatever.”

  “You’ve made your point.” Morelli pressed his fingers against his temples. “Look—”

  “Major Morelli,” Farnum said. “I’ve lost the only woman I’ve ever loved. I am not in the mood for games. If you have something you want to tell me—then tell me.”