Jaded Read Online Free Page A

recovered from the “shock” of her husband’s death, the formidable widow faced Jase and handed him a piece of paper. “The names you requested. Now, if there isn’t anything else, Detective, please see your way out.”
    “I’d like to speak to your children.”
    “Not on your life.”
    He snapped his notebook shut. “As I said, don’t leave the state.”
    As Jase drove around the circular drive, he called Ricco and gave him the cell phone numbers. They’d have info in a matter of hours.
    “What’s your read on the wealthy widow?” Ricco asked.
    “Genuinely shocked and after that wore off, genuinely glad to be rid of the bastard. Apparently, Andrew Townsend had a hard time keeping it in his pants.”
    Ricco chuckled. “An even harder time now.”
    “No shit. Whoever killed him had a grudge. It doesn’t get more personal than chopping a guy’s balls off and stuffing them down his throat, then watching him choke to death.”
    “I’d think that would put the widow at the top of the list, especially if she knew about his dog tendencies.”
    “Normally I would, too, but she was genuinely shocked. That said, she’s definitely in the suspect pool. I may have just witnessed an Oscar-winning performance. I’m going over to the parking lot where the anon caller said there was an injured person, see if I can find anything.”
    Twenty minutes later Jase stood at the far end of the back parking lot of Callahan’s. He called dispatch and had them replay the recording:
    “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
    “I—there’s a man, he’s hurt in the parking lot behind Callahan’s,” a husky female voice said. It was obvious the owner of the voice was trying to alter it. There was a faint accent, one he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She seemed rushed, out of breath. Afraid.
    “Ma’am, what is—” The line went dead.
    Jase asked dispatch to play it again, then again, each time hoping to pick something up. Each time it was the same: a rushed female voice, the call from a telephone booth three miles away. If the person was so concerned, why not use her cell phone? Or a closer pay phone? He deduced the reason for that was the person who did the crime didn’t want to do the time. Most criminals didn’t.
    Despite the sunny late afternoon, Jase pulled a flashlight from the trunk of his car and turned it on. He wanted maximum visibility. From the back door, methodically he walked every inch of the lot, his light to the ground, cutting slowly back and forth. After almost thirty minutes he stopped. There on the freshly painted traffic paint designating the parking stalls—one dark drop with slight splatter around it. He squatted down and resisted the urge to touch it.
    Definitely blood splatter. He set the flashlight down a foot away and pulled out the gloves he’d taken from Vangie’s box, along with an evidence bag. He pulled the swab from the bag and dabbed at the spot. Dry. He took what he could of the sample and slid the swab in the bag and sealed it.
    He looked up and squinted in the afternoon sunlight. On a plaque on the privacy fence in front of the stall were the initials JD. It was the only designated spot in the parking lot. He looked up at the ten-foot fence line and smiled. A camera.
    Jase pulled his cell out and dialed Ricco.
    “Maza.”
    “You still on scene?”
    “Just getting ready to go.”
    “Get over to the phone booth at the Quick Stop at Diles and Essanay Boulevard. It’s where the nine-one-one came from this morning. Look for cameras. I want Duncan to dust for prints over there but I want her over here first. I’m at the back lot on Thirty-ninth, Callahan’s. We might get real lucky, Ricco my man. There’s a camera mounted on the fence. Let’s hope it has film. And, I have blood.”
    “You’re a good man.”
    “As soon as Duncan gets here, I’m going to pay the infamous club a visit.”
    “I want in. I hear the women in there are American versions of