Speak No Evil_ A Novel - Allison Brennan [51]
Carina shook the errant thought from her mind and focused on the door.
Will rapped again. “Doug Masterson, Detectives Hooper and Kincaid with the San Diego Police Department.”
Finally, they heard a chain sliding open and Doug Masterson stood in the doorway, shirtless and in jeans, reeking of cigarette smoke. He was tall and lanky, with long blond hair and a deep dimple in his chin. He smiled when he saw Carina, sizing her up from head to toe, lingering too long at her breasts.
Jerk.
She flashed her badge. “Detective Kincaid with SDPD. Can we come in?”
She took his barely perceptible nod as a yes and walked through the door. Will and Nick followed.
The apartment was borderline filthy with overflowing ashtrays and dirty clothes tossed around. The fifty-inch flat-screen television took up half of one wall along with a deluxe stereo system that, if turned full-blast, Carina was certain she’d be able to hear down at the station.
The first thought that came to mind was that Masterson couldn’t be Angie’s murderer if Dillon’s analysis of a “tidy, immaculate” killer was accurate.
“Hello, officers of the law,” Masterson said condescendingly. “To what do I owe this pleasure? May I get you coffee? Doughnuts?”
“Cabrón,” Carina mumbled, then asked, “When was the last time you saw Angela Vance?”
He blinked, the question obviously startling him. Or he was a good liar. “Angie? Why?”
“She’s dead,” Carina said flatly.
Masterson sat heavily in a chair and ran both hands through his long hair. He stared at Carina, all flirtatious behavior gone. “Angie? Angie Vance?”
“Yes. Your eighteen-year-old girlfriend, Angie Vance.”
He shook his head, mouth open. “Dead? How?”
“Let’s start with Friday and work our way to today,” Will said. “Where did you go Friday morning?”
“Friday. Um, I just hung out here most of the day. Went out about eight at night. Couple parties. Came back about four.”
“Alone?”
“Alone?” he repeated.
“Did you bring someone home with you?” Carina repeated slowly.
“Friday night?”
“It can’t be too hard to remember,” Will said. “Five days ago.”
“No, I came home alone.”
“When was the last time you saw Angie?”
Whether he seriously couldn’t remember, or he was just trying to come up with a viable lie, Carina didn’t know. “I think,” he began slowly, “it was Thursday night. It might have been Friday. At the Sand Shack. It was toward the end of her shift.”
That should be easy enough to verify, Carina thought.
“I really don’t remember,” he said. “Last time I saw her she gave me the cold shoulder.”
“Did you know she suspected you were seeing another woman?”
This time, the surprise on his face was genuine. “Hell, no! I-I-I’m not seeing anyone else,” he stammered.
“Your neighbor told us you went skiing in the mountains.”
“Big Bear. My folks have a cabin up there.”
“With whom?”
“Is that important?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To establish your alibi. With whom did you go to Big Bear?”
He glared at her. “Ellen.”
“Ellen what?”
“I don’t know her last name.”
“When did you leave?”
“Sunday night.”
“What time?”
“Ten, eleven. It was late.”
“And you don’t know her last name?”
He shrugged. “We met at a party Sunday, hit it off, and split.”
“Why did Angie think you were seeing another woman last week?”
“I don’t know. She’s the jealous type.”
“How so?”
“Look, she has this double standard. She’s been with a lot of guys, but says she’s loyal. I believed her, told her the same goes for me. Then she sees me talking—just talking—to my ex-girlfriend and she goes all frigid on me. So I think, okay, she’s having a bad day. I go down to the Sand Shack when I know she’s going to get off work, say hey, let’s go see a movie or something, and she blows me off. So I went out and partied all weekend. Met up with Ellen, she didn’t have those issues, and we had fun. I don’t need the drama, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” Carina said sarcastically, “relationships are hard work.”
“Exactly,” he said, oblivious to her jibe. “I’m sure you don’t have any relationship problems.” He licked his bottom lip and grinned at her.
She glared at him. A biting