Thicker Than Water. Maggie Shayne
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Four had the only team on the scene when a man was found dead in an Armory Square hotel room. In a News-Four Exclusive, just under an hour ago, we were the first to report his name—Harry Blackwood, brother of Senator Martin Blackwood.”
Sean knew she was watching him, waiting for him to signal her as soon as anyone appeared at that podium up the stairs at her back, but no one had. He thought she was running out of things to say and worried about how she would fill the time if the press conference started late.
“Most Central New Yorkers know Harry Blackwood as a controversial figure, one who had numerous scrapes with the law and a less than stellar reputation. This leaves many of us to speculate on whether his lifestyle and known underworld associates could have any connection to his untimely death, a death police are calling suspicious, though I suspect we’ll be hearing more on that shortly. Officially, I can say only that having been at the crime scene before Blackwood’s body was removed, there was little doubt in my mind as to the cause of death. Without official permission, I cannot tell you much beyond that, except that the scene was a disturbing one that I’ll see in my mind’s eye for a long time to come.”
Sean lifted his eyes from the camera to look at her directly and gave her a slow nod of approval. Sell it, he thought. For someone who claimed to dislike sensationalism, she sure was a master at it.
“News-Four will continue to bring you complete coverage of this investigation as the day unfolds, and—”
The doors behind her opened, and Sean lifted a hand, finger pointed in that direction.
“And now it looks as if the press conference is about to begin.”
Sean turned the camera’s eye on the podium, as Julie said, “Senator Martin Blackwood.”
Blackwood cleared his throat. He looked as if he’d had a long night without much sleep, but he’d shaved and slicked up for the event. “Good afternoon. It grieves me to have to be here to tell you that my brother, Harold Blackwood, was killed last night. The police have told me that they do suspect foul play, but I’ll let them comment on that. I only want to say that this is a difficult time for my family. No matter what people may have thought about my brother, he remained just that—my brother. I would be very grateful to all of the members of the press if you would allow me and my family the time and privacy to grieve the loss of a man we loved very much. That’s all I have for you today.”
Immediately reporters began shouting questions. Jones, though, had the advantage of being dead center of the senator’s line of sight, and probably, Sean added silently, the advantage of being stunning enough to stop any man’s eyes from looking past her. Besides, her face was a familiar one.
“Senator, can you tell us anything about the funeral arrangements?”
The senator sighed, nodded once. “We’re having a private ceremony, Julie, and we’ve chosen not to disclose the particulars, as I’m sure you understand.”
While she had his full attention, she said, “Of course. Who do you think is responsible for this, Senator?”
He was surprised. She’d slid the real question right on the heels of the mundane, boring one and nailed him with it. He replied before he could censure himself. “I only wish I knew.”
Then, licking his lips, he let one of his aides hustle him away from the microphone, with the press still shouting questions.
Chief Strong, a burly man with a salt-and-pepper crew cut and a face like granite, stepped up to the podium, holding up his hands for silence. “The Syracuse Police Department have several strong leads in this investigation, which is being headed up by Lieutenant Cassandra Jackson. We are not releasing any details regarding cause of death at this time. To do so could impede and hamper the investigation. We will keep the press fully informed, so long as you all cooperate with us in our efforts. Thank you.”
“Do you have any suspects?” someone shouted.
He turned to give a reply that was not an answer. Sean kept taping, but as he did, he noticed one of the uniformed cops from last night sidling up to Julie, tapping her shoulder, and speaking near her ear. She nodded at him, then glanced back at Sean and crooked her finger. He put the camera back on her.
“There you have it, the official statement from Senator Blackwood, requesting privacy for his family to grieve this tragic loss. Chief Strong is playing this one very close to the vest—but if doing so will help catch a killer, then News-Four applauds him in that decision.”
Sean scowled over the camera at her and then made kissing-up lips at her.
“One thing is obvious from what Chief Strong had to say here, and that is that this case is being treated as a homicide investigation. Lieutenant Jackson, named by the chief as the detective heading up this investigation, is one of the Syracuse P.D.’s top homicide detectives. We’ll have more on this as the story develops. This is Julie Jones for News-Channel Four.”
Sean flicked off the camera and lowered it from his shoulder. “Not kissing up to the Police Department or anything, are we?”
She said, “I figured it couldn’t hurt. They want to see us both inside.”
“Now?”
She nodded, turned and led the way back through the crowd, around to a side entrance, where a uniformed cop waited to take them inside. He paused at a reception desk. “You can leave the camera here,” he told Sean.
Sean lifted his brows but complied. Then they were taken into an interrogation room, where Lieutenant Jackson waited. She sat at a table, wearing a pair of shapeless navy-blue slacks and a white button-down blouse. A blazer hung over the back of the wooden chair, and she got up when they walked in. Her hair, long and butterscotch-blond, was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore no makeup. How the hell a woman could dress that blandly and look that good was beyond Sean, but he did enjoy her. She was a good cop, an honest one, and she didn’t hate his guts, always a quality he admired in a woman.
Jax smiled very slightly at Sean; then her eyes met Julie’s and turned chilly. She cleared her throat. “Sit. This won’t take long.”
Jones sat. So did Jax. Sean stayed standing, interested in the slight animosity he sensed between the two women. He hadn’t noticed it before and wondered about it.
“I assume you can both make a pretty fair guess at the cause of death in the Blackwood case, being that you were there when it happened,” Jax said.
“After it happened,” Jones corrected, maybe a little too quickly.
“That’s what I meant.”
Sean didn’t think that was what she’d meant at all. Especially if the way she’d been watching Jones’s face as she’d said it was any indication.
“Just what is it you want, Lieutenant Jackson?” Jones asked.
The cop frowned. “Your cooperation. I want you to keep the cause of death to yourselves. Say nothing about the crime scene. Not even little hints like the one you just dropped on the air, Ms. Jones, about how gruesome it was.”
Julie seemed to be thinking that over. “Can I ask why?”
“Because only a handful of people outside the police know the details. You two, the hotel employee who found the body—and the killer.”
Sean nodded. “I get it. You’ll be able to rule out false confessions by nutcases who don’t guess right on how Blackwood was killed. I think my partner and I would be glad to make you that promise, Jax, but we’d really like something in return.”
He saw Jones flinch and grimace a little when he called the woman by her nickname.
“Why am I not surprised? You always want something in return, Sean.”
“Oh, come on, I’m not demanding a date.”
“Not this time, anyway.” The lieutenant, smiling a little, lowered her sky-blue eyes, and shook her head. “There’s nothing