mind?"
' ' your brains will fall out? I've heard that one, Rick." Bentz smiled.
"I was going to say people might accuse you of being a pansy ass and not
having an opinion."
' ' doubt if that'll be your problem." She shook her head.
"And since when do you care what people think?"
His grin widened and he winked. "Not people, Jaskiel.
Just you."
"Save that for someone who'll believe it. So how're you handling this?"
He gave her the rundown, everything from the vision, to the videotape,
to the information from Benchmark Realty and Brinkman's reports on Olivia's previous visits to the Department. "Oh"via Benchet knows more than she should.
It makes me wonder why"--he held up a hand--"except that, of course,
she's a psychic and just happens to " be into murders."
Melinda sent him a withering smile. "So does the lady have an alibi?"
"Just her dog and he's not talkin'."
"Seriously."
"She was home in bed. Asleep. The vision woke her up." Melinda thought a
second. Couldn't seem to put her mind around it
"I assume you're checking her out"
"Done deal."
"Okay, so keep me posted on the case. When you see the evidence report
and the ME's report, let me know." She started out the door, but thought
better of it "And, Bentz, don't pull any of that rogue-cop crap on me, okay? We need to play mis by the book."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"My ass." "And it's a nice one," Bentz said.
"Careful. There is such a thing as sexual harassment these days."
"You love it and you know it," he said. "Besides you're the boss."
"Keep that in mind. Now, let's give the witness in this case, Ms.
Benchet, some credibility. Okay? It's odd and she could be jerking our
collective chains, but just maybe she does have some kind of visions.
Look into it." Jaskiel patted the door frame, then left.
"You got it," Bentz muttered under his breath. So he was supposed to
believe whatever Olivia Benchet peddled his way? He was supposed to buy
that she had some psychic experience. How? Was she connected to the
killer? The victim? The house where it happened? Why did she "see"
this particular murder? Why not others? Did she confess to the priest?
Or maybe he confessed to her. What the hell was the connection? Bentz
stretched out of his chair and scratched his chin. Keep an open mind.
Shit. He didn't know if he could. Believe that a woman actually "saw" a
murder miles away?
That would be a trick.
So Bentz doesn't believe you. So what?
Not exactly a surprise, is it?
Olivia's grip tightened on the steering wheel of her truck as she wound her way into the Garden District on her way to the University. She'd hoped that Detective Bentz would trust her, that he would sense she was desperate, but of course, he was just like all the others. Men, she thought disgustedly as she stopped, waiting to turn into the University while the streetcar clacked past No, that wasn't fair. She'd run into her share of women skeptics as well. Starting with her mother.
It was late afternoon, shadows lengthening over the nearby colleges of Tulane and Loyola. She parked in a designated spot, then jogged to the psychology department. Images of Detective Bentz chased after her, but she was determined to push his handsome, craggy face, and all thoughts of the murder aside. At least for the moment. She made her way up a flight of stairs to the office of Dr. Jeremy Leeds, her professor and, she thought, noting the irony, the ex-husband of Dr. Sam, the radio psychologist at WSLJ. Olivia didn't much like the guy; he seemed pretty stuck on himself, but as he was her assigned counselor, she had to put up with him for a year or so.
No one was seated at the secretary's desk, so she wended her way through a labyrinthine hallway and knocked on the door to Leeds's private office. No answer. She tried again, her knuckles, where she'd scraped them earlier on the cheese grater, aching a little. "Dr. Leeds?" she said just as she heard footsteps pounding a corner.
"Olivia! Sorry I'm late."
' ' your brains will fall out? I've heard that one, Rick." Bentz smiled.
"I was going to say people might accuse you of being a pansy ass and not
having an opinion."
' ' doubt if that'll be your problem." She shook her head.
"And since when do you care what people think?"
His grin widened and he winked. "Not people, Jaskiel.
Just you."
"Save that for someone who'll believe it. So how're you handling this?"
He gave her the rundown, everything from the vision, to the videotape,
to the information from Benchmark Realty and Brinkman's reports on Olivia's previous visits to the Department. "Oh"via Benchet knows more than she should.
It makes me wonder why"--he held up a hand--"except that, of course,
she's a psychic and just happens to " be into murders."
Melinda sent him a withering smile. "So does the lady have an alibi?"
"Just her dog and he's not talkin'."
"Seriously."
"She was home in bed. Asleep. The vision woke her up." Melinda thought a
second. Couldn't seem to put her mind around it
"I assume you're checking her out"
"Done deal."
"Okay, so keep me posted on the case. When you see the evidence report
and the ME's report, let me know." She started out the door, but thought
better of it "And, Bentz, don't pull any of that rogue-cop crap on me, okay? We need to play mis by the book."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"My ass." "And it's a nice one," Bentz said.
"Careful. There is such a thing as sexual harassment these days."
"You love it and you know it," he said. "Besides you're the boss."
"Keep that in mind. Now, let's give the witness in this case, Ms.
Benchet, some credibility. Okay? It's odd and she could be jerking our
collective chains, but just maybe she does have some kind of visions.
Look into it." Jaskiel patted the door frame, then left.
"You got it," Bentz muttered under his breath. So he was supposed to
believe whatever Olivia Benchet peddled his way? He was supposed to buy
that she had some psychic experience. How? Was she connected to the
killer? The victim? The house where it happened? Why did she "see"
this particular murder? Why not others? Did she confess to the priest?
Or maybe he confessed to her. What the hell was the connection? Bentz
stretched out of his chair and scratched his chin. Keep an open mind.
Shit. He didn't know if he could. Believe that a woman actually "saw" a
murder miles away?
That would be a trick.
So Bentz doesn't believe you. So what?
Not exactly a surprise, is it?
Olivia's grip tightened on the steering wheel of her truck as she wound her way into the Garden District on her way to the University. She'd hoped that Detective Bentz would trust her, that he would sense she was desperate, but of course, he was just like all the others. Men, she thought disgustedly as she stopped, waiting to turn into the University while the streetcar clacked past No, that wasn't fair. She'd run into her share of women skeptics as well. Starting with her mother.
It was late afternoon, shadows lengthening over the nearby colleges of Tulane and Loyola. She parked in a designated spot, then jogged to the psychology department. Images of Detective Bentz chased after her, but she was determined to push his handsome, craggy face, and all thoughts of the murder aside. At least for the moment. She made her way up a flight of stairs to the office of Dr. Jeremy Leeds, her professor and, she thought, noting the irony, the ex-husband of Dr. Sam, the radio psychologist at WSLJ. Olivia didn't much like the guy; he seemed pretty stuck on himself, but as he was her assigned counselor, she had to put up with him for a year or so.
No one was seated at the secretary's desk, so she wended her way through a labyrinthine hallway and knocked on the door to Leeds's private office. No answer. She tried again, her knuckles, where she'd scraped them earlier on the cheese grater, aching a little. "Dr. Leeds?" she said just as she heard footsteps pounding a corner.
"Olivia! Sorry I'm late."
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