7th Heaven Part 2
Chapter 36.
THE BAILIFF CALLED MY NAME and I got up from the bench in the hallway, stiff-armed the double doors of the vestibule to the courtroom, and strode up the aisle. Heads turned as I approached the witness stand. And I was reminded again that the case against Junie Moon would hang in large part on my testimony. And that L. Diana Davis was going to do her best to crush me.I swore to tell the truth and took my seat, and my good friend Yuki asked me preliminary questions, setting up my time and grade as a police officer.Then she asked, "Sergeant Boxer, did you interview the defendant on April nineteenth?""Yes. Inspector Richard Conklin and I first interviewed her in her house, and then later at the southern division of the SFPD, on the third floor of this building."Did she seem afraid or anxious or intimidated?""Actually, no. She seemed quite comfortable. In fact, she agreed to come to the Hall for questioning.""At that time, did you ask her about Michael Campion?""We did.""And what was her response?" Yuki asked."At first she told us that she had never met Michael Campion. Approximately two hours later, she asked us to shut off the video camera.""And what happened after that?"In answer to Yuki's questions, I told the jury what Junie had told me and Conklin - how the victim had expired, that she had called Ricky Malcolm, and what the two of them had done with Michael Campion's body."Did you have any reason to doubt this story?" Yuki asked."No. I found her quite credible.""Did you interview the defendant at any other time?""Yes. We met with Ms. Moon a few days later at the women's jail. We hoped Ms. Moon might remember the name of the town where she and her boyfriend disposed of Mr. Campion's remains.""And did she remember?""Yes. The town of Jackson, about three and a half hours northeast, in Amador County.""So to be clear, this was a second interview?""Correct.""Was the defendant under duress?""Objection. Calls for speculation," Davis sang out."Sustained," Judge Bendinger snapped."I'll rephrase," Yuki said. "Did you threaten the defendant? Deny her food or water or sleep?""No.""She gave you this information of her own volition?""Yes.""Thank you, Sergeant," Yuki said to me. "I have no further questions."And then L. Diana Davis was in my face.
Chapter 37.
TO MY SURPRISE, L. Diana Davis was pet.i.te, maybe five three, and I guessed that her close-up shots on the small screen and her reputation had made her seem larger than life."Sergeant Boxer," Davis said. "You've been a homicide inspector for over ten years. You've investigated countless homicides. You've interrogated innumerable suspects, and you knew that eventually you'd be sitting in a courtroom telling us what happened in the case against Junie Moon. Isn't that true?""Yes.""So how did you get the defendant to confess, Sergeant? Tell her that accidents happen? That she wasn't culpable?"I knew d.a.m.ned well to keep my answers short and blunt, but looking at Davis's expression, half kindly grandma, half bulldog, I felt a need to let my mouth do the talking."I may have said things like that. Interrogations aren't one size fits all. Sometimes you've got to raise your voice. Sometimes you've got to be sympathetic. And sometimes you've got to lie to a subject," I said. "There are legal boundaries for interrogations, and my partner and I stayed within those boundaries."Davis smiled, turned, and walked toward the jury, turned back to face me."Is that so?" she said. "Now, you've testified that the defendant asked you to turn off the tape during your interrogation at the police station.""That's right.""So let me get this straight, Sergeant. You videotaped everything - up to the point when Ms. Moon 'confessed.' That confession is not on the tape.""The defendant seemed reluctant to talk because the camera was running. So when she asked me to turn it off, I did so. And then she told us what happened.""So what are we to make of the fact that you recorded everything this young woman had to say except her confession? I guess you're suggesting that the defendant was being cagey when she asked you to shut off the camera," Davis said, shrugging her shoulders, sending a nonverbal message to the jury that she thought I was full of c.r.a.p. "You're saying she was sophisticated enough to confess off the record.""There is no such thing -""Thank you, Sergeant. That's all I have for this witness," said Davis.Yuki shot to her feet, said, "Redirect, Your Honor.""Proceed, Ms. Castellano," said the judge."Sergeant Boxer, are you required to tape a confession?""Not at all. A confession's a confession, whether it's written or verbal, on tape or off. I'd rather have a taped confession, but it's not required."Yuki nodded."Did you have any idea what Ms. Moon was going to tell you when she asked you to turn off the video camera?""Had no idea. I turned off the camera because she asked us to - and I thought it was the only way we were going to get the truth. And you know what, Ms. Castellano? It worked."
Chapter 38.
YUKI WISHED ALL of her witnesses were as good as Rich Conklin. He was solid. He was believable. Made you think of a young military officer, a mother's good son. It didn't hurt that he was also good to look at. In answer to her questions, Conklin affably told the jury that he'd been with the SFPD for five years and that he'd been in the homicide division for the last two."Did you interview the defendant on the night of April nineteenth?" Yuki asked Conklin."Sergeant Boxer and I talked with Ms. Moon together.""Did you have any preconceived notions about her guilt or innocence before you talked to her?""No, ma'am.""Did you read Ms. Moon her Miranda rights?""Yes, I did.""As I understand it, Ms. Moon wasn't in custody when you Mirandized her, so why did you warn her that anything she said could be used against her?""It was a gamble," Conklin told Yuki."When you say it was a gamble, could you explain what you mean to the jury?"Conklin brushed his forelock of brown hair away from his eyes. "Sure. Suppose I say to a suspect, 'I want to interview you. Can you come down to the station?'"And the suspect comes in of his or her own volition. That person doesn't have to answer our questions and can leave at any time. I don't have to Mirandize that person when we sit down to talk because they're not in custody."Conklin sat back comfortably in his seat and continued, "But, see, if that subject then starts to get wary, he or she could ask for a lawyer, who would end the interview. Or that subject could simply leave. And we'd have to let her go because that person is not under arrest.""If I understand you, Inspector, you were taking a precaution, so that if Ms. Moon incriminated herself, you'd already be covered by having told her that anything she said could be used against her?""That's right. I was thinking how Ms. Moon was our only witness, maybe a suspect in a serious crime, and I didn't want to take a chance that if she had something to do with Michael Campion's disappearance, we'd have to stop the interview and Mirandize her. That might have ended the interview. And we not only wanted the truth, we wanted to find Michael Campion.""And did Ms. Moon ask for a lawyer?""No.""Did she give you the details of Michael Campion's death and the disposal of his body?""Yes, she did.""Inspector Conklin, what was her demeanor as she confessed to you and Sergeant Boxer?""She seemed sad and remorseful," Conklin said."And how did you determine that?""She cried," said Conklin. "She said she was sorry, and that she wished she could change everything that happened."
Chapter 39.
"INSPECTOR CONKLIN," Davis said, smiling. "You sound like a very smart police officer."Yuki tensed. She could almost see Davis setting the trap, baiting it, tying the trap to a tree. Conklin just looked at Davis until she spoke again."Isn't it true that from the beginning, the defendant denied that she'd ever met Michael Campion?""Yes, but ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a suspect is going to say they didn't do it.""You've interviewed a hundred homicide suspects?""Figure of speech," Conklin said. "I don't know how many homicide suspects I've interviewed. Quite a few.""I see," Davis said. "Is it a figure of speech to say that you and Sergeant Boxer tricked and bullied my client until she confessed?""Objection!" Yuki called out from her seat."Sustained.""I'll rephrase. As we all know, Ms. Moon's 'confession,' " Davis said, making the universal symbol for quote marks with the first two fingers of each hand, "wasn't on tape, isn't that right?""That's right.""So we don't know the tenor of that interview, do we?""I guess you just have to trust me," Conklin said.Davis smiled, wound up for the pitch. "Inspector, did you take notes of Ms. Moon's statement?""Yes.""I asked to see those notes during discovery," Davis said, "but I was told you no longer had them."Conklin's cheeks colored. "That's right.""I want to make sure I understand what you're telling us, Inspector," Davis said in the snotty tone she'd perfected over decades and was using now in an attempt to undermine and humiliate Conklin."You were investigating a probable murder. As you told us, Ms. Moon was your primary witness, or maybe a suspect. You had no taped record, so you made a written record. That was so you could tell the court and the jury what the defendant said, right? And then you threw the notes away - can you tell us why?""I used my notes as the basis for my report. Once my report was typed, I didn't need them anymore.""No? But what's a better record of that interview? The notes you took that night? Or the report you filled out a couple of days later? You're supposed to keep those notes, aren't you, Inspector? . . . Inspector?"Your Honor, please direct the witness to answer my question."Yuki clenched her fists under the table. She hadn't known Conklin had destroyed his notes, but while it wasn't kosher, homicide cops did it all the time.Judge Bendinger shifted in his seat, asked Conklin to answer the question.Reluctantly, Conklin said, "My notes would be more of a verbatim account, but -""But still, you felt it was appropriate to throw them out? Is there a shortage of storage s.p.a.ce at the Hall of Justice? Were the file cabinets full, maybe?""That's ridiculous.""It is, isn't it?" Davis asked, letting the question hang in the dead silence of the courtroom."Do you remember where you threw the notes? In the garbage perhaps, or out your car window? Maybe you flushed them down the toilet?""Your Honor," Yuki said. "Defense counsel is badgering the witness -""Overruled. The witness may answer," said Judge Bendinger."I shredded them," Conklin said, the cords in his neck straining against the white collar of his shirt."Please tell the jury why you shredded your notes."Yuki saw the flash in Conklin's eye but was helpless to stop him from snapping, "The reason we get rid of our notes is so that shyster lawyers like you don't twist things around -"Yuki stared at Conklin. She'd never seen him blow up before. Davis had manipulated him, and she was going to nail him to the wall."Inspector Conklin, is that how you behaved when you interviewed my client? Lose your temper like that?""Objection, Your Honor," Yuki called out."On what grounds?""Defense counsel is objectionable."Bendinger was unable to stifle a laugh. "Overruled. Watch it, Ms. Castellano."Davis smiled, faced Conklin, one hand on her hip. "Only one more question, Inspector. Any other important evidence you shredded that would have exonerated my client?"
Chapter 40.
STILL FEELING STUNG by Davis's cross-examination of Rich Conklin and the stress of the entire horrid day, Yuki left the Hall of Justice by the back door and walked several blocks out of her way, checking her BlackBerry as she walked.She deleted messages, made notes for the file, sent an e-mail to Red Dog, who was now back in his home office asking for a report. She entered the All Day parking lot from the rear and had just opened the door of her brownish-gray Acura sedan when she heard someone call her name.Yuki turned, frisked the crowded lot with her eyes, saw Jason Tw.i.l.l.y loping toward her against traffic on Bryant, calling out, "Yuki, hey, hang on a minute." Yuki reached into the car, put her briefcase on the pa.s.senger seat, and turned back to face the superstar writer, who was closing in.Tw.i.l.l.y looked fantastic, Yuki thought, as she watched him maneuver through the crowded parking lot. She liked everything about the way he put his act together: the cut of his hair, the Oliver Peoples gla.s.ses framing his intense dark brown eyes. Today he was wearing a fine blue shirt under a well-fitted gray jacket, and his pants were buckled with a plain Hermes belt that must've cost seven hundred dollars.Tw.i.l.l.y pulled up to where she stood with her car door opened between them, not even blowing hard from his run."Hey, Jason. What's wrong?""Not a thing," he said, eyes locking on hers. "I just wanted to tell you that I thought you rocked today.""Thanks.""No, I mean it. You're great on your feet, and it's smart the way you're handling the press. Davis is out there campaigning on the front steps and you're -""The defense has to spin this," Yuki said. "I have to prove Junie Moon is guilty, and that's not going to happen in front of the Hall."Tw.i.l.l.y nodded his agreement, said, "You know, I wanted to tell you that I overheard a conversation in the hallway, and what I heard is that Junie's a little slow, below average IQ.""I don't get that impression," said Yuki, wondering what the h.e.l.l Tw.i.l.l.y was getting at. Was he working an angle? Or was her six months in the DA's office making her cynical?Tw.i.l.l.y set down his briefcase on the asphalt, took a soft leather eyegla.s.s case from his breast pocket, removed a small square of cloth, and ma.s.saged the pollution off his Oliver Peeps."I gathered that Davis is going to get an expert shrink to tell the jury that Junie is dumb and suggestible and that the brutal cops could make her say anything.""Well, thanks for the heads-up, Jason.""No problem. Look, Yuki," he said, adjusting his gla.s.ses over the bridge of his nose. "I'm dying to pick your very lovely mind. Would you have dinner with me? Please?"Yuki shifted her weight in her narrow, pointy shoes, thought of the nice cold Coors waiting for her at home. The ton of work she had to do."No offense, Jason. When I'm trying a case, I like to be alone at the end of the day. I need the solitude and the time to clear my head -""Yuki. You've got to eat, so why not let me treat you to a lavish expense account dinner? Caviar, lobster, French champagne. Anyplace you want to go. You'll be home by eight, and no business talk either. Just romance," Tw.i.l.l.y said, giving her his full frontal, lopsided grin.He was charming and he knew it.Yuki laughed in the face of such practiced seduction, and then she surprised herself.She said yes.
Chapter 41.
STEVEN MEACHAM AND HIS WIFE, Sandy, were watching 48 Hours Mystery on TV in their expansive home in Cow Hollow when the doorbell chimed.Steve said to Sandy, "Are we expecting someone?""h.e.l.l no," Sandy said, thinking of the door-to-door canva.s.sing that had been going on because of the heated school board elections. She took a sip from her winegla.s.s. "If we ignore them, they'll go away.""I guess I can always give 'em a couple of shots to the ribs, make 'em take us off the list," Meacham said, feinting and punching the air, then slipping his bare feet into his loafers.He walked to the front door, peered through the fanlight, saw two good-looking boys standing outside, kids about the age of his son, Scott.What was this?The heavier of the two wore a peachy-colored T-shirt under a camouflage vest, his hair covering his shirt collar, more Banana Republic than Republican, and definitely not a Jehovah's Witness. The other boy was dressed traditionally in a glen plaid jacket over a lavender polo shirt, hair long in front like a kid from an English boarding school. The boys had unopened liquor bottles in hand.Meacham turned off the security alarm, opened the door a crack, said, "May I help you fellows with something?""My name is Hawk, Mr. Meacham," said the one in the sport jacket. "This is Pidge. Uh, those are our pledge names," he said apologetically. "We're friends of Scotty's, you know, and we're pledging Alpha Delta Phi?""No kiddin'? Scotty didn't call . . .""No, sir, he doesn't know we're here. We have to do this on the sneak.""Pledges, huh?"Meacham fondly remembered his own fraternity days. "So, when's the initiation?" he asked."Next week, sir," said Pidge. "If we make it. We have to ask you about Scotty, things people don't know about him, and we need to score a baby picture, preferably a naked one . . ."Meacham laughed, said, "Okay, okay, come on in." He threw open the door to his s.p.a.cious home with its heart-stopping view of the bay."Honey, we've got company," he called to his wife, leading the two boys through the foyer. "Hawk, like Ethan Hawke? Or some sort of bird theme, probably."Meacham accepted the bottles from the boys with thanks, then he opened the inlaid wooden liquor cabinet in the living room. He took out gla.s.ses as the boys introduced themselves to his wife, who said, "It's quite nice of you to bring something, but it really wasn't necessary.""Cointreau," Meacham said. He poured from the bottle, handed the gla.s.ses around. "To the Greeks."Actually, Meacham was trying to cut down on the booze, but Sandy was already half sloshed. She swished her drink in the gla.s.s, took a sip, said, "Honey bear, why don't you show the boys Scotty's room? I'll get out the photo alb.u.ms.""I'll stay with you, Mrs. Meacham," Pidge said. "Help you pick out the right picture."Sandy was lost in the photo alb.u.m in her lap when Pidge's shadow fell across her face. She looked up, did a double take through her unfocused eyes, finally putting it together. Pidge was holding a gun.She took in a deep breath, but Pidge raised a finger to his lips, then said, "Don't scream, Sandy. Just do what I tell you and everything will be fine."
Chapter 42.
"THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE," Steve Meacham said to the two boys, wincing as Hawk jammed the gun between his shoulder blades."Go stand by your wife, Mr. M.," said Hawk. "This is kind of a scavenger hunt, you know? We're not going to hurt you guys. Not unless you make us."Meacham went to his wife's side, looking at each of the two guns in turn, sending his mind toward his own gun, which was wrapped in a towel at the top of the linen closet. He glanced at Sandy's face, saw that she was sobering up, trying to figure out what was happening.He wished he knew.He turned back to Pidge, said, "This is just a fraternity prank, right, fellas?""Yes, sir," Hawk said at his back. "I need you both to lie on the floor, facedown.""Well, I'm not going to do that, you crazy boy," Sandy said, whipping her head around, eyes flashing furiously. "Get out of here, both of you, now, and tell Scotty I want to hear from him tonight, I don't care what time -"Pidge walked behind Sandy, c.o.c.ked his arm, and whacked her on the back of the head with the gun b.u.t.t. Sandy yowled, went down into a crouch, hands covering her head. Steven saw blood seep between her fingers. Steven started toward Sandy, but the chilling metallic clicks of hammers being c.o.c.ked stopped him where he stood.Steven wanted to keep denying the wordless terror that was flooding his mind - but he couldn't block it out anymore. These kids were going to kill them - unless, somehow . . ."I don't want to shoot you, lady," Pidge said. "Drop all the way to the floor. You, too, buddy. Hurry up now."Steven got to his knees, pleaded. "We'll do what you say. Take it all," he said. "Take everything we have. Just don't, please, don't hurt us.""Good att.i.tude," Pidge said, shoving Sandy Meacham to the floor with his foot, standing behind her as her husband lay facedown on the Persian carpet."Hands behind your backs, if you'll be so kind," Pidge said. He took a reel of fishing line out of his back pocket, wrapped the monofilament fiber tightly around the Meachams' wrists. Then he tugged off their shoes, stripped off Sandy's socks, and began winding fishing line around Steven Meacham's ankles."I'll let you in on something," Pidge said. "Actually, we're not fraternity types like Scotty." He tugged down Sandy's elastic-waisted pants and underwear in one motion. Sandy yelped."Where's your safe, Mr. M.? What's the combination?" Hawk asked."We don't have a safe," Meacham said."Hawk, go back upstairs," said Pidge. "I'll keep these folks company."He slapped Sandy's b.u.t.tocks playfully, laughing as Meacham cried out, "There's some money inside the humidor on my dresser. You can have it. Take it all!"Pidge turned up the TV volume to high, balled Sandy's socks, jammed a woolen gag into each of the Meachams' mouths. As Sandy whimpered and squirmed, he slapped her b.u.t.tocks again, this time almost tenderly; then reluctantly, Pidge tied her ankles together with the fishing line. That done, he broke the neck of the second bottle of Cointreau against the mantelpiece. He poured liquor on a pile of newspapers by the upholstered chair, into a basket of yarn, doused the Meachams' hair and their clothing, Meacham shouting against the sock in his mouth, starting to gag."I wouldn't do that," Pidge said, reasonably. "You could drown on your own vomit. That would be nasty, bud."Hawk came down the stairs into the living room, a cigar in his mouth, jangling a lumpy pillowcase."Swag," he said, grinning. "About five grand in the humidor. Oh, and I got a book."Pidge bent to Sandy Meacham, who was moaning half naked at his feet. He twisted the diamond rings off her fingers, then shouted into Steven Meacham's ear."What is it you people like to say? Living well is the best revenge? Well, enjoy your revenge. And thanks for the stuff.""Ready?" Hawk asked.Pidge finished writing the inscription and capped the pen."Veni, vidi, vici, bro," Pidge said, lighting matches and dropping them where he'd poured the Cointreau.VOOOOOOM.Flames flared up around the room. Smoke billowed, darkening the air. The Meachams couldn't see the two young men wave good-bye as they left by the front door.
Chapter 43.
THE SMELL OF BURNED FLESH hit us before we crossed the threshold into the smoking ruins of the Meacham house in Cow Hollow. It had once been an architectural masterpiece. Now it was a crypt.Arson investigator Chuck Hanni stepped out of the shadows to greet us. He looked uncharacteristically tired and grim."My second job tonight," he explained."The first one was like this?" Conklin asked."Nope. Meth lab explosion," Hanni said. "Victim was blown out of the house and into the back of her pickup truck." He shook his head. "Now this is exactly like the Malone fire."We followed Hanni into what was once the Meachams' living room. I imagined the s.p.a.ce as it once was - the cathedral ceiling, the ma.s.sive fireplace, and the mirror above the mantel. Now it was all smoke-blackened gilt and carbon-streaked marble. The bodies were lying close together in three inches of black water, flat on their stomachs, hands curled in a pugilistic att.i.tude, the result of tendons tightening as their bodies burned."If there were ligatures on the victims, they've burned up," Hanni said, hunching down beside the bodies. "No point in dusting for prints. Maybe tomorrow, in the light of day. . . . Anyway," Hanni went on, "I found this on the kitchen counter." He handed a book to Conklin. I read the t.i.tle: A History of Yachting. "Got a signature in there for you, Rich. It's in Latin."Conklin cracked open the book to the t.i.tle page and read out loud. "Radix omnium malorum est cupiditas.""What's it mean?" Hanni asked him.Conklin tried to hunch it out, saying, "Something, something, bad is love? I don't know. What the h.e.l.l. My tenthgrade Latin is exhausted.""Aren't we all?" Claire said, stepping into the room, a crew of two a.s.sistants trailing behind her. "What have we got here?"She walked to the bodies, rolled the smaller of the two, and a rush of air came from the victim's mouth. Paaahhhhhh."Look here," Claire said to Chuck, showing him a liquor bottle that had been partially hidden by the victim's body.Hanni picked it up with a gloved hand."Maybe we'll get some prints after all," he said.Conklin and I left Claire and Hanni with the bodies of the victims and went outside. The first officer pointed out an attractive woman standing at the front of the now-thinning crowd at the edge of the lawn."That's the woman who called it in. Her name is Debra Kurtz," the cop told me. "She lives directly across the street."Kurtz was in her late forties, five four or so, a tad too thin, maybe anorectic, wearing black spandex running gear. Mascaraed tear tracks marked her cheeks. I introduced myself and Conklin, asked Kurtz if she'd known the deceased."Steve and Sandy Meacham were my closest friends," she said. "I called 911 when I saw the fire. G.o.d, oh, G.o.d, it was already too late.""Mind coming down to the station with us?" I asked. "We need to know everything we can about your friends."
Chapter 44.
DEBRA KURTZ WAS DRINKING day-old coffee in the smaller, cleaner of our two interview rooms. "The Meachams were the greatest couple in the world," she told us tearfully."Any reason you can think that anyone would want to hurt them?" I asked."I'm going to the soft drink machine downstairs," Conklin said to Kurtz. "Can I get you something else?"She shook her head no.When Conklin was gone, Kurtz leaned across the table and told me about Sandy's drinking and that both Sandy and Steven had had casual affairs. "I don't think that means anything, but just so you know."Kurtz told me that the Meachams had two children; a boy, Scott, nineteen or so, away at college, and a girl, Rebecca, older and married, living in Philadelphia. Kurtz choked up again, as though something painful was stuck in her gut - or her conscience."Is there something else you want to tell me, Debra? Something going on between you and Steven Meacham?""Yes," she said quietly. "Yes, there was."Kurtz watched the door as she talked, as if she wanted to finish talking before Conklin returned. She said, "I hated myself for cheating on Sandy. It's hard to explain, but in a way I loved her as much as I loved Steve."I pushed a box of tissues over to her side of the table as Conklin came back into the interrogation room. He was holding a computer printout."You have a rap sheet, Ms. Kurtz," said Conklin, pulling out a chair. "That kinda surprised me.""I was in grief," the woman told us, her gray eyes flooding anew. "I didn't hurt anyone but myself."Conklin turned the pages toward me."You were arrested for burglary.""My boyfriend talked me into it, and I was stupid enough to go along. Anyway, I was acquitted," Kurtz said."You weren't acquitted," said Conklin. "You got probation. I think you made a deal to flip on your boyfriend, am I right? Oh, and then there's the arson.""Randy, my husband Randy, was dead. I wanted to cut my heart out," she said, pounding her chest with her fist. "I set fire to our house because it was the only way I could see what I felt. The bottomless grief."I leaned back in my chair. I think my mouth may have dropped open. Debra Kurtz reacted to the shock on my face."It was my own house," she shouted. "I didn't even file an insurance claim. I only hurt myself, do you understand? I only hurt myself!""Had Steven Meacham broken off your affair?""Yes. But it was weeks ago, and it was mutual.""You weren't a little angry?" Conklin asked. "Didn't feel a little bottomless grief?""No, no, whatever you're thinking, I didn't set fire to the Meachams' house. I didn't do it. I didn't do it."We asked Debra Kurtz where she was when the Malone house burned, and we asked her if she knew her way around Palo Alto. She had alibis, and we wrote everything down. What she told us added up to a crazy woman with a burning desire to both destroy and self-destruct.It added up, and yet it didn't add up at all. And now it was half past five in the morning."You have any trips planned, Debra?" Conklin said, in his charming way.She shook her head. "No.""Good. Please don't leave town without letting us know."
Chapter 45.
JOE WAS STILL ASLEEP when I crawled into bed. I gently shoved Martha out of my spot and snuggled up to Joe's back, wanting to wake him up so that I could tell him what was bugging me. Joe turned toward me, pulled me close to his body, buried his face in my smoky hair."Have you been barhopping, Blondie?""House fire," I said. "Two dead.""Like the Malones?""Just like the Malones."I threw an arm across his chest, rested my face in the crook of his neck, exhaled loudly."Talk to me, honey," Joe said.Excellent."It's about this woman, Debra Kurtz," I said, as Martha got back up on the bed, turned around a couple of times, then curled into the hollow behind my legs, pinning me in."Lives across the street from the victims. She called in the fire.""Firebugs often do.""Right. Says she got up for a gla.s.s of water, saw the flames. Called the fire department, then joined the crowd watching them put the fire out.""She was still standing there when you arrived?""She'd been there for hours. Said she was best friends with the female victim, Sandy Meacham, and she'd also been sleeping with the second victim, Sandy's husband -""Weird definition of best friend."I had to laugh. "Sleeping with her best friend's husband until he dumped her. This Debra Kurtz has a key to the victims' house. She also has a sheet. An old arrest for burglary. And guess what else? Arson.""Hah! She knows her way around the system. So she what? Sets fire to the house across the street - and just waits for the cops to take her in?""That's what I'm saying, Joe. The whole package is too much. Kurtz had the means, the motive, the opportunity. 'h.e.l.l hath no fury' - plus once a firebug, you know, it's a hard rush to kick.""She strike you as a killer?" Joe asked me."She struck me as a pathetic narcissist, in need of attention.""You got that right."I gave Joe a kiss. Then I gave him a few more, just loving the feeling of his rough cheek against my lips, his mouth on mine, and the fact of him, big and warm and in my bed."Don't start something you're too tired to finish, Blondie," he growled at me.I laughed again. Hugged him tight. Said, "Ms. Kurtz insists she didn't do it. So what I'm thinking is . . ." My thoughts drifted back to the victims, soot-blackened water lapping around their bodies."What you're thinking," Joe prompted."I'm thinking either she set this fire because she's so completely self-destructive, she wants to get caught. Or she did it and maybe she didn't plan for her friends to die. Or else . . .""Your gut is telling you that she didn't do it. That she's just a total wackjob.""There ya go," I said to my sweetheart. "There . . . ya . . . go . . ."When I woke up, my arms were entwined around Martha, Joe was gone, and I was late for my meeting with Jacobi.
Chapter 46.
I MET CLAIRE at her car after work. I moved a pair of galoshes, a flashlight, her crime scene kit, a giant bag of barbecued potato chips, and three maps into the backseat and then climbed up into the pa.s.senger side of her Pathfinder. I said, "Richie got a translation of that Latin phrase that was written inside that yachting book.""Oh yeah? And what did it mean?" she said, pulling her seat belt low across her belly, stretching it to the limit before locking it in place.I cinched my seat belt, too, said, "It roughly translates as 'Money is the root of all evil.' I'd like to get my hands on the sucker who wrote that and show him the victims all crispy and curled up on your table. Show him what real evil is."Claire grunted. "You got that right," she said, and pulled the car out onto Bryant heading us north, apparently deciding to take the 1.8 miles to Susie's like she was racing the Daytona 500. She jerked the wheel around a slow-cruising sightseer, stepping on the gas. "You're saying 'him,' " Claire pointed out. "So that Debra Kurtz person is off your list?""She has an alibi," I told Claire through clenched teeth. I grabbed the dashboard as she cleared the yellow light. "Also, her alibis check out for the nights of the Malone fire and the Jablonskys in Palo Alto.""Humph," Claire said. "Well, about the two legible fingerprints on that bottle found at the scene. One belongs to Steven Meacham. The other didn't match to anybody. But I've got something for you, girlfriend. Sandy Meacham had a good-sized blunt-force wound to the skull. Looks like she got clobbered with maybe a gun b.u.t.t."I thought about that - that the killer had gotten violent - then I told Claire how the canva.s.s of the Meacham neighborhood had netted us no leads whatsoever. She gave me the results of the blood screen - that Sandy Meacham had been drinking, and that the Meachams had both died of smoke inhalation.It was all interesting, but none of it added up to a d.a.m.ned thing. I said so to Claire as she pulled into the handicapped zone right in front of Susie's Cafe.She looked at me and said, "I am handicapped, Linds. I'm carrying fifty pounds of baby fat, and I can't walk a block without huffing.""I'm not going to write you up for this, b.u.t.terfly. But as for the land speed record you just set in a business district . . ."My best friend kissed my cheek as I helped her down out of the Pathfinder. "I love that you worry about me.""Lotta good it does," I said, hugging her, cracking open the door to Susie's.As we plowed through the gang at the bar toward the back room, the plinking steel-band version of a Bob Marley cla.s.sic surrounded us, as well as the divine aromas of roasting chicken, garlic, and curry. Cindy and Yuki were already at our booth, and Lorraine dragged up a chair for Claire. She dropped laminated menus that we knew by heart onto the table and took our order for a pitcher of tap and mineral water for Claire.And then with Cindy urging her on - "Yu-ki, tell them, tell them" - Yuki "volunteered" her news."It's nothing," she said. "Okay. I had a date. With Jason Tw.i.l.l.y.""And you were careful what you said to him," Cindy said, sternly. "You remembered that he's a reporter.""We didn't talk about the case at all," Yuki said, laughing. "It was dinner. A very nice dinner, no kissing or anything, so all you guys calm down, okay?""Was it fun? Are you going to see him again?""Yeah, yeah, if he asks me, I suppose I will.""Jeez. First date in what, a year?" I said. "Think you'd be more excited.""It hasn't been a year," Yuki said. "It's been sixteen months, but never mind that. What're we toasting?""We're toasting Ruby Rose," said Claire, lifting her water gla.s.s."Who?" we all asked in unison."Ruby Rose. She's right here," Claire said, patting her belly. "That's the name Edmund and I picked out for our little baby girl."
Chapter 47.
WHEN I RETURNED home from Susie's, the sun was still hanging above the horizon, splashing orange light on the hood of a squad car parked right outside my apartment.I bent to the open car window, said, "Hey there. Something wrong?""You got a couple of minutes?"I said, "Sure," and my partner opened the car door, unfolded his long legs, and walked over to my front steps, where he sat down. I joined him. I didn't like the look on Rich's face as he opened a pack of cigarettes and offered me one.I shook my head no, then said, "You don't smoke.""Old habit making a brief return visit."I'd kicked tobacco once or twice myself, and now I felt the pull of the many-splendored ritual as the match sparked, the tip of the cigarette glowed, and Rich released a long exhalation into the dusky air."Kelly Malone is calling me every day so I can tell her that we've got nothing. Had to tell her about the Meachams."I murmured sympathetically."She says she can't sleep, thinking how her parents died. She's crying all the time."Rich coughed on the smoke and waved his hand to tell me that he couldn't talk anymore. I understood how helpless he felt. The Malones' deaths were shaping up to be a part of a vicious serial killing spree. And we were clueless.I said, "He's going to screw up, Richie, they almost always do. And we're not in this alone. Claire, Hanni -""You like Hanni?""Sure. Don't you?"Conklin shrugged. "Why does he know so much and so little at the same time?""He's doing what we're doing. Wading through the sludge. Trying to make sense of the senseless.""Good word for it. Sludging. We're sludging, and the killer is laughing - but h.e.l.l, I'm a bright guy. I can translate Latin plat.i.tudes into English! That's worth something. Isn't it?"I was laughing with Rich as he joked himself out of his blue mood when I saw a black sedan crawling slowly up the street in search of a parking spot. It was Joe."Oh, look. Stay and meet Joe," I said. "He's heard a lot about you.""Nah, not tonight, Linds," said Rich, standing up, grinding out the b.u.t.t of his cigarette on the pavement. "Maybe some other time. See you in the morning."Joe's car stopped.Richie's car pulled out of the spot.Then Joe's car pulled in.
Chapter 48.
"YOU EVER USE THIS THING?" Joe was asking me about the stove."Sure I do.""Uh-huh? So what's this?"He pulled a user's manual and some Styrofoam packing out of the oven."I use the stove top," I said.He shook his head, laughed at me, asked if I could open the wine and start the salad. I said I thought I could handle that. I uncorked the chardonnay, tore a head of romaine into a pretty blown-gla.s.s bowl Joe had given me, and sliced up a tomato. I reached around Joe for the olive oil and spices, patted his cute behind. Then I settled onto a stool near the counter, kicked off my shoes.I sipped my wine and with a Phil Collins CD playing in the background, listened to Joe talk about three accounts he'd landed for his new disaster-preparedness consultancy and his upcoming meeting with the governor. Joe was happy. And I was glad that he was using his modern, larger, fancier apartment as his office - and making himself at home right here.And my apartment was a darned cute place, I have to say. My four cluttered but cozy rooms are on the third floor of a nice old Victorian town house, and there's a deck off the living room where the sun sets on my sliver view of the bay. It was becoming our sliver view of the bay.I topped up Joe's winegla.s.s, watched him stuff a couple of tilapias with crabmeat and slide the pan into the oven. He washed his hands and turned his handsome self to me."The fish will be ready in about forty-five minutes. Want to go outside and catch the last rays?""Not really," I said.I put down my gla.s.s, hooked my leg around Joe's waist, and pulled him to me, grinning as I saw my better idea flash into Joe's blue eyes. He drew me closer, slid me off the stool, and gathered me up, cupping my b.u.t.t and grunting theatrically as he carried me down the hallway, saying, "You're a load, Blondie."I laughed, bit his earlobe, said, "You didn't think 130 was a load when you were younger.""Like I said. Light as a feather."He dropped me softly onto the bed, crawled in next to me, took my face in his big hands, and gave me a kiss that made me groan. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and Joe did the almost impossible, pulled off his shirt and kissed me at the same time, tugged off my pants, and also somehow managed to kick the door shut to keep Martha out of our private moments."You're amazing," I said, laughing."You haven't seen anything, yet, baby doll," my lover growled.Soon we were both naked, our skin hot and slick, limbs completely wrapped around each other. But as we grappled together, making the delicious climb to ecstasy, an image of another man came winging into my mind.I fought it hard, because I didn't want him there.That man was Richie.
Part Three
HOME COOKING
Chapter 49.
JASON Tw.i.l.l.y SAT in the front row of the gallery in Courtroom 2C, right behind the elfin Junie Moon, taking notes as Connor Hume Campion answered Yuki Castellano's softball questions. Tw.i.l.l.y thought Campion had aged tremendously since his son disappeared. He looked haggard, stooped, as though Michael's death was literally killing him.As he looked at the governor and Yuki together, Tw.i.l.l.y felt a shift in his thinking, and a new structure for his book appeared in his mind. Yuki was Michael Campion's defender, and she was the underdog; feisty and shrewd and at the same time endearing. Like now. Yuki was using the former governor's celebrity and heartbreak to both move the jury and block the defense.Tw.i.l.l.y would start the book with Yuki's opening statement, flash back through time using poignant moments in the boy's life as told by the governor, flash forward through the trial and the witnesses. Focus on Davis's maternal defense. Linger on the vulnerable Junie Moon. Then end the book with Yuki's closing argument. The verdict, the vindication, hurrah!Tw.i.l.l.y turned his attention back to the governor."Mike was born with a conductive defect in his heart," Campion told the court. "It was being managed medically, but of course he could die at any time."Yuki asked quietly, "And what did Michael know about his life expectancy?""Mikey wanted to live. He used to say, 'I want to live, Dad. I have plans.' He knew he had to be careful. He knew that the longer he lived, the more chance -"Campion stopped speaking as his throat tightened and his eyes watered."Mr. Campion, did Michael talk to you about his plans?""Oh, yes," Campion said, smiling now. "He was training for an upcoming world chess tournament, on the computer, you know. And he'd started writing a book about living with a potentially fatal illness. . . . It would've made a difference to people. . . . He wanted to get married someday . . ."Campion shook his head, looked at the jury, and addressed them directly."He was such a wonderful boy," he said. "Everyone has seen his pictures, the interviews. Everyone knows how his smile could light up the darkness, how brave he was - but not everyone knows what a good soul he had. How compa.s.sionate he was."Tw.i.l.l.y noted that Diana Davis's face was pinched, but she didn't dare object to Campion's meandering testimony about the pain of losing his son. Campion turned and looked squarely at the defendant, spoke directly to her, sadly but not unkindly."If only I could have been there when Michael died," Connor Campion said to Junie Moon. "If only I could have held him in my arms and comforted him. If only he'd been with me, instead of with you."
Chapter 50.
"THE PEOPLE CALL Mr. Travis Cook," Yuki said.Heads swung toward the double doors at the back of the courtroom, and a young man about eighteen years old, wearing a gray prep school blazer with a crest over the breast pocket, walked up the aisle, came through the gate.Cook's bushy hair looked patted down rather than combed, and his shoes needed a polish. He looked uneasy as he swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but. Then he stepped up to the witness stand.Yuki said good morning to her witness and then asked, "How did you know Michael Campion?""We went to Newkirk Prep together.""And when did you meet Michael?""I knew him in our freshman year, but, uh, we became better friends last year.""In your opinion, what caused this friendship to grow?""Uh, Michael didn't have many friends, really," Travis Cook said, meeting Yuki's eyes briefly, then looking down again at his hands. "People liked him, but they didn't get too close to him 'cause he couldn't play any sports or hang out or anything. Because of his heart condition.""But you didn't have the same problem becoming friends with Michael?""I have severe asthma.""And how did that affect your friendship?"Travis Cook said, "What he had was worse, but I could relate. We talked about how bad it sucked living with these things hanging over us all the time.""Now, did there come a time when you told Michael about the defendant, Ms. Moon?""Yeah.""Travis, I realize this may be a little uncomfortable, but you've sworn to tell the truth.""I know.""Good. And what did you tell Michael about Ms. Moon?""That I'd been with her," he mumbled."Please speak up so the jury can hear you," Yuki said.The boy started again. "I told Michael that I'd been with her. A lot of us had. She's a nice girl for someone who . . . anyway. She's not crude or anything, and so . . ." Travis sighed. "And so she's a good person to break you in.""Break you in?" Yuki asked, turning away from the witness, looking at the jurors. "I'm not sure what you mean.""Do it for the first time. You're not worried about what the girl's going to think of you or anything. I mean, you get to be yourself, have fun, pay her, and leave.""I see. And what did Michael Campion say when you told him about Ms. Moon?""He said he didn't want to die a virgin.""Travis, did you see Michael the day before he disappeared?""I saw him on the lunch line.""And how did he appear to you?""Happy. He said he had a date that night with Junie.""Thank you, Travis. Your witness," Yuki said to L. Diana Davis.Davis was wearing a blue double-breasted suit with two rows of four large white pearl b.u.t.tons and a triple strand of pearls at her throat. Her silver hair was crisp, almost sharp.She stood up and spoke from the defense table, saying, "I only have one question, Mr. Cook."The boy looked at her earnestly."Did you see Michael Campion go into Junie Moon's house?""No, ma'am.""That's all we have, Your Honor," Davis said, sitting down.
Chapter 51.
TANYA BROWN WAS ENJOYING HERSELF, giving Yuki a headache at the same time.Ms. Brown smiled at the bailiff, tossed her hair as she swore to tell the truth, and modeled her orange jumpsuit as if it were designed by Versace. She was the third of Yuki's three jailhouse witnesses, all "in the system" for dealing drugs, prost.i.tution, or both, and all of whom had met Junie Moon within the walls of the county jail. And while the testimony of jailhouse snitches was generally considered suspect or useless, Yuki was hoping that the virtually identical statements of these three women would together substantiate Junie Moon's confession.Yuki asked Tanya Brown, "Did the prosecution offer you anything in exchange for your testimony?""No, ma'am.""We didn't offer to get you transferred, or get you time off or better treatment or more privileges?""No, ma'am, you said you weren't going to give me anything." Tanya Brown wiggled her f.a.n.n.y in the witness seat, poured herself a gla.s.s of water, smiled at the judge, then settled down."All right then, Ms. Brown," said Yuki. "Do you know the defendant?""I wouldn't say I know her, know her, but we were cellmates one night at the women's jail.""And did Ms. Moon say why she was arrested?""Yeah, everyone gets a turn at that.""And what did Ms. Moon tell you?""She said she was a working girl and that she had a date with Michael Campion.""And why did that stick in your mind?""Are you kiddin'? It was like, Whoa. You did the dirty with the golden boy? And like what was that like? And by and by it came out that he died when they were doing it.""Is that what Ms. Moon told you?""Yeah. She said he had a bad heart, and that happened to me once, too, but my john was no golden boy. He was a smelly old man, and he died in the front seat of his Caddy, so I just opened the door - oh, 'scuse me.""Ms. Brown, did Ms. Moon say what she did when Mr. Campion had a heart attack?""She got all weepy-like," said Tanya Brown. "Said she and her boyfriend got rid of his body.""Did she say anything else?""She said Michael was the sweetest boy she ever met and how bad it sucked for him to die on the happiest night of his life."Yuki thanked the witness, made sure she didn't roll her eyes as she turned her over to L. Diana Davis.Davis asked Tanya Brown the same question she'd asked each of Yuki's previous two jailhouse witnesses."Did Ms. Moon offer you any proof that she'd been with the so-called victim? Did she describe any distinguishing marks on his body, for instance? Show you any souvenirs? A ring, or a note, a lock of his hair?""Huh? No, I mean, no, ma'am, she didn't.""I have no other questions," said Davis dismissively, again.
Chapter 52.
Tw.i.l.l.y PHONED YUKI at the office, asked her to have dinner with him at Aubergine, a hot new restaurant on McAllister. "I've got so much work to do," she moaned. Then she relented. "An early dinner, okay? That would be great."At six the restaurant was filling up with the loud pretheater crowd, but she and Tw.i.l.l.y had a small table far from the bar, where it was quiet enough to talk. Tw.i.l.l.y's knees b.u.mped against hers from time to time and Yuki didn't mind."Davis is like an IED," Yuki said, moving tiny bay scallops on her plate with her fork. "She blows up in your face at every checkpoint.""Her act is getting old. Don't worry," Tw.i.l.l.y told her. "She's probably up every night worrying about you."Yuki smiled at her dinner companion, said, "Hey. That's enough about me." And she asked him to tell her about his first true-crime book."Must I? It sold about two hundred copies.""It did not.""It did, and I know because I bought all of them myself."Yuki threw back her head and laughed, loosening up finally, feeling pleased that she had Tw.i.l.l.y's attention all to herself."I wrote it under a pseudonym," Tw.i.l.l.y said. "That way if you were to Google me, that bomb won't come up on the list.""Well, now I know," said Yuki. "So, what was the book about?"Tw.i.l.l.y sighed dramatically, but Yuki could see he was just revving his motor before rolling out a story he loved to tell."It's about this country-western singer-songwriter in Nashville," Tw.i.l.l.y said. "Joey Flynn. Ever hear of her?""Nope.""Okay, well, about ten years ago, Joey Flynn had cut a couple of records and was making her way up the charts. 'Hot d.a.m.n.' You know that song? Or 'Blue Northern'? No? Well, it doesn't matter."Joey was married to a carpenter, Luke Flynn, her high school sweetheart, and they'd had four kids before they were twenty-five. One day a fan brought Joey a hundred roses at this saloon where she was singing, and her heart went zing.""A hundred roses . . . ," Yuki said, imagining it.Tw.i.l.l.y grinned, said, "Joey messed around with this guy for three weeks before Luke found out and confronted her.""Confronted her how?""Rapped on the door at the Motel 6.""Ouch," said Yuki."So that was the end of Joey's affair, and Luke never forgave her. Over time, Joey caught on to the fact that Luke was planning to kill her.""Really? How?""How did she find out? Or how did he plan to kill her?"Yuki laughed again, said, "Both, and I think I'm going to have that chocolate mousse cake now.""You deserve cake for the way you handled the governor today," Tw.i.l.l.y said, touching the sleeve of Yuki's blue silk blouse, keeping his hand there for a long moment before he signaled the waiter. After ordering dessert, Tw.i.l.l.y went on with his story."Five years after her fling with that fan, Joey opens the cache in Luke's computer and sees that he's been looking up how to poison someone.""Oh, my G.o.d . . .""Joey writes to her best friend saying that if anything should happen to her, the police should question her husband. Ten days later," Tw.i.l.l.y went on, "Joey was dead. Pota.s.sium cyanide shows up on the tox screen, and Joey's best friend turns the letter over to the cops, and Luke Flynn is arrested and charged with murder.""This story reminds me of Nicole Simpson putting those Polaroids of her bruises in a lockbox for her sister in case O.J. hurt her.""Exactly! So I write a book proposal, get a big advance on a six-figure contract, and I start spending time with Luke Flynn, who's cooling his jets in jail while he awaits trial. And let me tell you, there's no food like this near the prison in Nashville.""Have the rest," Yuki said, pushing two-thirds of her cake across the table."You sure you're done? Okay, then," Tw.i.l.l.y said, accepting the cake.Yuki said, "So what happened?"The waiter dropped the check on the table and Tw.i.l.l.y placed his platinum card on it, saying, "I'll give you a lift to your car. Tell you on the way.""Why don't you follow me home in your car," Yuki said. "The least I can do is make you coffee."Tw.i.l.l.y smiled.
Chapter 53.
JASON Tw.i.l.l.y SAT in a loveseat in Yuki's living room, an Irish coffee resting on the low gla.s.s table between him and where Yuki was sitting in an upholstered chair six feet away.Yuki was thinking that Tw.i.l.l.y was too good-looking, and that she hadn't had s.e.x in so long she wasn't sure she remembered how to do it. Now here was this big-time superstar who would surely break her heart if she let him, and she didn't have time for fun, let alone heartbreak. She had a conference call with Parisi and the DA early in the morning, she had to prepare herself for the next round in this week's trial of the century and go to bed. To sleep.Tw.i.l.l.y was excited, hitting the climax of his story. "So now the DA has the letter Joey Flynn gave to her best friend, and turns out she also told her hairdresser that she was afraid Luke would kill her.""I'm dyin'," Yuki said. "You better tell me what happened, Jason, because I've got to be in bed in ten minutes and you have to leave.""Come sit with me for those ten minutes," he said.Yuki felt her heart banging in her chest. And she felt something else: her deceased mother's clucking presence all around her - in the furniture, in the portrait on the wall - and she knew that her mom would want her to say good night and show the stranger out.Yuki got up and sat next to Jason Tw.i.l.l.y.Tw.i.l.l.y put his arm around her, leaned forward, and kissed her. Yuki moved into the kiss, put her hands in Jason's hair, and was jolted by the hot shock of desire that shot through her body. It was incredible! But somewhere into the second kiss, when Jason ran his hand over her breast, she pulled away, gasping and fl.u.s.tered, her confusion burning off into certainty.She wasn't ready for this. It was too soon.Yuki dipped her head, avoided Tw.i.l.l.y's eyes as he reached out and tucked a glossy fall of her hair behind her ear.Then, as if nothing had happened, he said, "The judge ruled the letter Joey wrote to her best friend inadmissible as hearsay, because a defendant, in this case Luke Flynn, had a right to confront his accuser.""Who was, unfortunately, dead," Yuki said."Correct. But he allowed the testimony of Joey's hairdresser. Luke's lawyer put up a fight. Said the hairdresser's testimony was also hearsay. The evidence went in anyway, and Luke was convicted.""That's kind of amazing.""Bingo," Jason said. "Luke's lawyer appealed to the Tennessee State Supreme Court, and eight months later the conviction was overturned. As we speak, Luke Flynn is living in Louisville with his new wife and kids, making custom kitchen cabinets," Tw.i.l.l.y said. "As if Joey Flynn never happened.""So let me guess: the story fizzled out. And you had to either write the book or give back the advance," Yuki said, starting to breathe normally again."Exactly. So I wrote Blue Northern, naming it after Joey's song, and it bombed. But Malvo was a hit, and so was Rings on Her Fingers. And this book, the shocking story of the life and death of Michael Campion as told through the voice of the bewitching - oh, G.o.d, Yuki . . ."Jason pulled Yuki to him and kissed her again, and when she resisted, when she said, "No, I can't," he held her tighter, until Yuki jumped up and pushed him away, putting the coffee table between them again.Tw.i.l.l.y's face darkened. He was angry, and she understood: he'd read her libido, but not how much he was scaring her."I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just not -""Don't be a sorry mouse, be a happy j.a.ppy," Tw.i.l.l.y said, interrupting her. His lopsided smile was forced, and he stood, followed her into the middle of the room, reached for her again as she backed away.Happy j.a.ppy? What was wrong with him?Yuki walked across the pale green carpet to the door, opened it, and said, "Good night, Jason."But Jason Tw.i.l.l.y didn't move."What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you?" he shouted. "You flirt with me, invite me back to your place, now - hey! Listen to me," he said, advancing on Yuki, gripping her chin hard with his thumb and forefinger, wrenching her face toward him."I said no," Yuki said, pulling out of his grip. "Now get out or I'm calling the police.""Crazy b.i.t.c.h," he said, and smiling coldly, he dropped his hands to his sides.Yuki's heart galloped as Tw.i.l.l.y walked slowly out of her apartment. She slammed the door shut behind him, bolted the lock, and leaned against the inside of her door until she heard the elevator door open and close at the end of the hallway. She went to the window and watched as Tw.i.l.l.y stalked out of the Crest Royal and got into his car.His tires squealed as his black Mercedes shot down Jones Street.
Chapter 54.
AFTER A GENUINE PSYCHO KILLER had been arrested in her building, Cindy had thought of adopting a dog for protection. Pit bulls were outlawed in San Francisco, and Cindy didn't want an attack dog or a lap dog, and so her pursuit of the perfect watchdog had ended at Seth on Sixth, the pet store around the corner.Seth had said, "Take him. His name is Horndog."Horndog was a peach-and-white Moluccan c.o.c.katoo, a relative of the bird Robert Blake used to have in his TV series Baretta. But Horndog was no movie star. He sulked in his cage plucking feathers from his breast, lifting his head to squawk whenever the door to the pet shop opened."He's depressed," Seth said. "He needs a home. Anybody comes into your house, Horndog will let you know."So Horndog had been renamed Peaches, and now that he was living with Cindy he was no longer depressed. Visibly happier, he now perched on Cindy's shoulder, chewing a pencil into wood chips and softly chuffing to himself. It took a week or two for Cindy to finally translate that m.u.f.fled mutter; Peaches was saying, repeatedly, "Kill the b.i.t.c.h. Kill the b.i.t.c.h.""Pretty bird, pretty bird," Cindy answered distractedly, sure that if she said it enough times, she could reprogram her bird.Tonight Peaches and Cindy were at her computer in her home office. Cindy typed a series of key words into a search engine: "home fires fatalities," "home fires fatalities Bay Area," "home fires cause unknown." But each time she pressed the enter key, too much information flooded her screen.Cindy scratched the bird under its chin, refreshed her tea with hot water from the kettle, and went back to her desk. The clock icon in the bottom corner of her screen read 10:32 and she was still nowhere. She refined her search, typed "home fire wealthy couple.""It's unreal, Peaches," she said, as dozens of links appeared on her screen. "Too much information!"Nearly all of the links led to the same fire, a house outside San Francisco that had been torched four years before. As Cindy scanned the articles, she remembered the story of the victims, Emil and Rosanne Christiansen, who had died before she was a.s.signed to the crime desk.Emil Christiansen had been the CFO of an office machine company that had been bought out by a computer company. The Christiansens had become instant multimillionaires. They'd moved out of the city to a woodsy setting up the coast. According to the articles, the house had burned down before firefighters could reach it, and the Christiansens had died.The fire had been cla.s.sified accidental by the firefighters at the scene, but when the couple's son did an inventory of the remaining property, he reported that his father's coin collection was missing and that his mother's large emerald ring and a sapphire-and-diamond bracelet that was alone worth fifty thousand dollars were gone.At the bottom of the last article was a quote from the arson investigator, who had told the reporter, "A candle tipped over, papers caught fire, the curtains went up, and so went the house. I haven't found any trace of fire accelerant, so right now I can't say if the fire was accidental or intentional."Cindy typed, clicked, followed the links, found the medical examiner's report on the Christiansens. The ME had given the cause of death as smoke inhalation and the manner of death "undetermined based upon the fire marshal's report.""Hey, Peaches. What about the missing jewels? Hmmmm?""Kill the b.i.t.c.h. Kill the b.i.t.c.h."Cindy's mind churned with questions. The Christiansens had been robbed, so why, she wondered, had the arson investigator said he didn't know if the fire was accidental or intentional? And here was a thought: Was it a coincidence that the arson investigator who worked the Christiansen fire was also working on both the Malone and Meacham homicides?Cindy knew the investigator's name because Lindsay had talked about him. His name was Chuck Hanni.She put Peaches back into his cage and covered it. Then she got busy on the phone. First she called her editor.Then she called Lindsay.