Creatively Crushed (Reckless Bastards MC 6)

r, I was on my feet instead of my bottom. Looking out the window, I let out a groan at the sight of two detectives in ill-fitting suits. I stepped back so they could enter. “How can I help you, detectives?

The older one with the green eyes stepped in first.

“I’m Detective Haynes and this is Dodds. We’re assigned to handle the shooting that took place last week.” His eyes were kind but tired, like a man who had seen too much bad in the world to remain unaffected. “How are you doing, Ms. Vanderbilt?”

“It’s hard being here but I’m okay. How can I help you gentlemen?”

The shorter one, Dodds stepped forward with an angry scowl on his face. “Why does it smell like marijuana in here?”

So he was going to be one of those cops. “Is that illegal in this state, detective?”

His frown deepened and he was even more in my face, not concerned with my height advantage because he had the gun. “Is that what I smell?”

“Actually, no. I haven’t the faintest idea what you smell, Detective. Unless sage and lavender smell like pot, but if you have proof that it’s what you think it is, I’m ready to hear it.” When he said nothing I turned back to the nicer detective. “Did you come here to arrest me for imagined crimes so you have an excuse not to solve the crime that actually took place here?”

“Not at all Ms. Vanderbilt.” Detective Haynes flashed an annoyed look at his short, angry partner. “We just have a few questions about the night of the incident.”

I didn’t want to relive it but I wanted that psycho off the street. “Okay. Ask away, but he can’t stay.” I pointed to Dodds who thought he was being oh so clever, wandering around the shop in hopes to find some pot lying around. As if I would ever be that careless.

“That’s not your choice,” he said from the back and I didn’t bother turning my head, because I knew where he was standing.

“Well if that’s the case then I’d prefer not to speak to the police until I’ve spoken to a lawyer.” I knew how people saw me because I made sure they saw me that way. It was an attempt to leave the old me behind, the girl who wasn’t Moonbeam and who wouldn’t be caught dead in cheap non-designer brands. People like Detective Dodds weren’t worth my time or effort, guys who didn’t bother to look below the surface or consider that outside packaging gave no indication of what was inside. But just because I looked like a pot smoking hippie, didn’t mean I was one. I was, but I was also raised by wealthy and powerful parents, which meant I knew my rights and the power of an attorney.

“We’re trying to help you, lady,” the little man said.

“I think your captain will love to know how you treat crime victims, detective. Maybe you need more time at the academy so you can learn to be something other than a total ass.” His aura was toxic and that told me everything I needed to know about the man. He was poison.

He leaned forward as he drew closer, trying to intimidate me. “What did you call me?”

“Is your hearing defective as well?”

He glared, face so red I thought he might keel over and die right in my shop which would just be unfortunate. “I could arrest you.”

“Dodds! Get out of here goddammit.” Haynes looked to be at the end of his rope as he stared down his tiny partner who huffed and puffed before finally exiting my shop. “Sorry about that, Ms. Vanderbilt. Let’s just say that he’s my punishment for a past sin.”

“No apology necessary. At least you acknowledge that he’s a crappy cop.”

“Ms. Vanderbilt,” he began on an exhausted sigh.

“Call me Moon, please.” Reminding me of my family was not the way to inspire me to be helpful.

“Moon, just remember that no good deed goes unpunished.”

As if I hadn’t learned that truism too many times to count in my life. “Believe me, I know but this isn’t a good deed. I’ll tell you the same thing I told the uniforms who showed up the night of the incident. There was a yellow sports car, yellow and black actually. It looked like the car from Transformers,” I told him nervously, explaining when his brows rose. “My son owns one of those models, it’s his favorite.”

He smirked. “What about the shooter, did you see anything? Race? Hair color or eye color?”

My head was already shaking in response. “No, there was no skin on display just a mass of blackness that I assumed meant he or she was wearing gloves. Just darkness and then a flash of light when the gun went off.” Even replaying it my mind had my breath racing and shallow. My skin began to heat, and my hands started to shake but I could always count on deep breathing exercises. They never failed me. “That’s all I saw, Detective Haynes, I’m sorry.”

He scribbled in his miniature notepad for a long time before he closed it and looked up with a grin. “You were pretty handy to have around, especially for Mrs. Ellison.”

I nodded at his words, hearing the next question before he even asked it. “In another life I was an EMT.”

“And how well do you know Mrs. Ellison?”

“The victim?” I asked for clarification because again, these cops weren’t as clever as they liked to think. “Well enough to know that CPA’s don’t often draw that kind of client dissatisfaction, detective.” He grimaced but had the grace to look ashamed. A little.

“I’m just trying to help, Moon, and that means figuring out who did this.”