Page 42 of Copper

“He’s still dripping. It’s slow, but this is new. Today. This morning at the earliest.” I holster my own weapon with a sigh and slowly approach Murphy’s body.

“Think the judge gave him a heads up we were coming?”

I think back to Judge Hossit’s love for his daughter. “Not likely. Judge Hossit is usually a straight arrow. He’s worried about appearance and is a people pleaser, but he’s not dirty.”

“Someone at the office?”

I remember the pretty assistant who got the warrant off the printer. “If so, Judge Hossit needs to do better background checks, but I seriously doubt it. She didn’t seem the type to run with Beckett. This could be a coincidence.”

Other team members approach behind us, and Coleson directs them to holster their weapons. He explains the situation through the radio and calls for the coroner and forensics team as I stand, hands on hips, looking around Murphy Beckett’s den. I shake my head and grit my teeth.

“You mad?” Coleson asks.

I hear the far-off sounds of doors closing and instructions given as the team leaves the premises, and we switch to investigation mode. “No,” I say. “He had it coming. I almost wish someone else could have had the joy of doing this to him.”

Coleson rounds the small coffee table in the middle of the room and glances at the laptop. He’s careful not to touch anything because he knows better, but his fingers twitch to click the mouse.

“How do you know someone didn’t do this to him?” Coleson asks, ever the detective.

“Look around, man.” I gesture to the box cutter and the rum. “Ten bucks says there’s a suicide note or email on that laptop.”

Coleson looks at the box cutter and the rum. He reaches into his pocket and quickly gloves up before opening a side door that leads to what looks like an office with a large desk and bookshelves. I look around for footprints on the laminate flooring, but unless someone came in and killed Murphy Beckett in muddy shoes, we won’t find much on this kind of floor.

“It looks like he got shit drunk and felt like we were closing in. Nothing more. Nothing less.” I look around the den and the adjoining office. “Tell forensics to grab what you can from the files in there and take the computer. We could get good info on cohorts. Bag anything you can. But this looks pretty cut and dry. Suicide.”

Coleson frowns and nods, silently agreeing with me. We’ve both seen it more than a few times, and this is standard. I see nothing, smell nothing, and hear nothing that tells me this was anything but death by Murphy’s own hand. The door was locked, and we cleared the house, finding not a soul.

As the coroner and forensic team show up to retrieve anything they can from the house, I back out of the room, taking one last look at Murphy Beckett. Raising my middle finger, I smirk. “Fuck yourself in hell, you piece of shit.”

I take a deep breath of early spring air as I step outside the house. This is over. At least until someone fills the vacuum of space he leaves in the drug and trafficking business. Another honcho will move into the area and set up shop, and we’ll have to work to get something on that guy too.

But I can be with Lucy without worry now. Whatever was happening with Murphy and the hired thugs that threatened Lucy is over.

I can go home to Lucy and convince her to stay more often or even permanently. I can go get my girls and bring them home.

All of them.

Chapter 21

Lucy

“Itwasflashlight,” Pearl says, pouting that we couldn’t figure out her word. She crosses her arms and marches back to her spot on the floor as Ruby stands up for her turn to draw a choice.

I haven’t played charades in years, but the girls insisted we play it as soon as the pizza arrived. For my first couple of days of meeting the girls, they’re taking my presence quite well. It can’t be easy to come home from a visit to your grandmother’s house and find a strange woman suddenly sharing your house and making goo-goo eyes at your dad.

Granted, Aaron and I haven’t flaunted our adult relationship. Most of my stuff is still in the guest room, and I waited until after the girls went to bed last night to creep down the hallway into Aaron’s room. He held the door open for me and put his finger to his lips as we both quietly giggled at how much it felt like sneaking around as teenagers again.

When I came hard as he took me from behind last night, I bit into the pillow so the girls wouldn’t hear me moan for their daddy. That’ll be the hardest part of my nights in this house. Aaron also sighed and whispered when he came, and I missed the loud moans from his throat.

For now, I’m Aaron’s friend from high school who’s staying with them. Pearl asked a few questions about me dating Aaron in high school, but I made it fun by pulling out an old purse-sized photo album I’ve had since high school. She had a great time giggling with me about Aaron’s high school haircut and his old basketball pictures. Maybe when she’s older, she’ll realize how much I love her dad since I kept everything from back then. I showed her the ticket stubs from a Foo Fighters concert even Aaron had forgotten he’d taken me to.

Ruby stuffs another bite of pizza in her little mouth, straightens her right pigtail, and starts mimicking something that looks like her stirring a pot. I marvel at how much she looks like Aaron. She even chews like him, favoring the right side of her mouth and wrinkling her nose when something’s extra crunchy or sticky.

“Cooking?” I guess, trying to ignore Aaron’s hand suddenly on my inner thigh in a possessive and loving position. If the girls notice, they ignore it. “You’re stirring something. Stirring? Mixing! Um, baking a cake?”

“Baking cupcakes!” Aaron yells next to my ear.

“Hey, that’s cheating when you piggyback off my guess.”

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