She lowered herself into the chair and took slow measured breaths. “I'm fine. Just pregnant.”
Davis fought to keep a straight face. “Did your husband know about the baby?”
Christine cradled her stomach, though it was as flat as a yoga instructor’s from what Davis could see. “Yes. He was beside himself about becoming a father.” Worry creased her brow. “But I haven’t told anyone except my sister.” She looked into Davis’ eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share that information. I’m not ready to tell people yet. It’s too soon.”
Davis pursed her lips. “We’ll do our best.”
Christine scooted back her chair. “Well, if there’s nothing else.”
Davis raised a finger. “Actually, there is one more thing.” Christine raised a brow. “Did you happen to find anything else in your husband’s things?”
“Something specific you have in mind?”
“Legal papers. Say, for a divorce? Or child support payments?”
Christine gawked at her. “What—what do you mean? Whose divorce?”
Daniels stood behind Christine and mugged Davis, as though he were strangling himself. Davis ignored him and hunched over the table. “Phillip’s divorce. From his previous wife.”
Christine looked around the room, confused. “What? What previous wife?” She twisted toward Daniels. “What does she mean?”
Davis cocked her head. “So, you don’t know Julie Beck? Never heard of her?”
Christine’s mouth dropped open. “What does Julie have to do with this?” She turned again, toward Daniels, as though an ally. “What’s going on here?”
Davis just stared, waiting for Christine to put the pieces together. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, then things clicked for her. She shook her head. “Are you saying that Julie is Phillip’s ex-wife?”
Davis rotated a finger. “Bingo.”
“But that can’t be. I mean”—she kept shaking her head—“he would’ve told me.” Her shoulders slumped and she seemed to disappear into herself. Finally, she whispered, “I didn’t know.” She sat in silence, twisting her hands in her lap, getting her wits around it. Then she looked up at Davis and said, “Faith is Phillip’s?”
Daniels gave Davis a dirty look. “No, we aren’t saying that. We have no proof of that.”
Davis scowled at Daniels.
Daniels pulled his chair closer to Christine’s. “But we have verified that your husband was married to Julie Beck from 2002 to 2007.”
Christine patted her chest as though comforting herself. “I see.”
Davis believed Christine Logan was being truthful about Julie Beck and Phillip. She hadn’t known. “If you didn’t know about your husband’s previous marriage, how do you know Julie Beck and her daughter?”
Christine twisted toward Davis, eyes distant and unfocused. “Faith is one of my students at the Center.” She blinked and came out of her daze. “I only met them a couple weeks ago. I wouldn’t say I know them.”
Again Daniels glared at Davis and he helped Christine to her feet. “Okay, I think we’re done for today. Thanks for coming in.”
Daniels offered to walk her out but she declined the escort and left the room—though still a little wobbly. As soon as the door closed Davis shook her fist at Daniels. “What’d you do that for?”
“You have to ask?”
“We needed to know if there was a connection between her and Beck.”
Daniels twisted his face. “We did? Why’s that? We figure she and Julie plotted together to kill Logan? One strong-armed him into the tub and the other one forced drugs and booze down his throat?”
Davis flapped her arms at him. “Oh shut up.” She plopped in a chair, nervous energy bouncing her leg. “No way is it a coincidence that Julie Beck showed up at that Community Center.”
Daniels pulled up a chair. “Yeah, I’d agree with that one. So, maybe Julie Beck is the one we need to be looking at.”
A sharp rap at the door and then it opened. The desk sergeant ducked her head in. “Somebody here to see you. Julie Beck. Should I send her back?”
IT WAS HARD FOR DAVIS not to stare at the first Mrs. Logan—she looked even more like Christine Logan in person than she had in the photos. “Thanks for coming in.”
Julie sat at the table, hands folded in front of her. “May I ask what this is about?”
Daniels propped against the wall by the door. “Phillip Logan.”
Julie reared her head and frowned. “I haven’t seen Phillip for years. Not since we divorced. What do you think I could tell you about him?”
Davis studied Julie for a moment, she seemed genuinely surprised that they wanted to talk about Logan. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Mr. Logan died a few days ago.”
Julie pursed her lips. “Yes, I heard.” She wrinkled her brow. “And again, it’s been years, so what could I possibly tell you?”
Daniels drifted over to the table and took a seat. “You don’t seem too broken up about it.”
Julie nodded, a pained look on her face. “There’s a reason we divorced. Phillip wasn’t a nice man. At least, not to me.”
“So, the divorce was ugly?”
Julie shifted in her chair and gave her response to Daniels. “Are divorces ever pretty?”
Davis hunched over the table. “Can’t say, I’ve never been married. What about your daughter, Faith? Did Phillip provide for her? Send child support like he was supposed to?”
Julie lifted out of her chair. “Child support? No, why would he?” Davis said nothing. “You think Faith is his?” She shook her head. “Phillip Logan isn’t my daughter’s father.”
Davis thought she sounded a little too indignant. “Mind telling us who is?”
She clenched her jaw. “Yes, I do mind. I don’t know what you want from me but my daughter has nothing to do with Phillip. I’d appreciate it if you left her out of this.”
Davis tapped her pen on the tabletop. “The math says otherwise.”
Julie gripped the table, seeming both angry and worried. “I don’t know what math you mean but he wasn’t capable of fathering a child.” Her eyes darkened as though visiting a painful memory. “Maybe that’s why he had to cheat on me.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. But Faith isn’t his.”
Daniels cocked a brow at Davis which was his way of telling her to back off and let him take a pass at it. “You said Phillip was not a nice man. Could you elaborate on that some? How wasn’t he nice?”
Julie’s shoulders slumped and she twisted her hands together. “I don’t understand why you need to know any of this. It wasn’t a good marriage. It was a dark time in my life. Do we have to go through the gory details?”
Davis tapped her foot under the table—she wanted to jump back in but her partner urged to her keep quiet with a look.
Daniels tilted his head sympathetically. “He was abusive?”
Her cheeks colored and she bowed her head. “Yes.”
Daniels spoke softly, trying to draw the woman out and make it safe for her to talk. “It must’ve been very difficult—going through that. But we didn’t find anything on his record. You never reported the abuse to the police?”
She ran a hand over her hair. “I tried once.” She lifted her bangs and showed him a two-inch scar that ran across her forehead. “Then this happened.”
A wave of regret dizzied Davis and an image of her dead sister popped into her head. “Did you tell anyone, try to get help?”
A sad smile curled Julie’s lips. “Eventually. Once I realized he’d never stop. That I could never change him. Make him love me enough to stop hurting me.” Tears glistened in her eyes but she shook her head to defy them. “I got out and I didn’t look back. End of story.” She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “But what does any of this have to do with Phillip now?”
Daniels jumped in again. “Something I don’t understand. If you were so scared of him, why’d you move back here? Weren’t
you afraid you’d run into him again?”
“Yes, I was scared of running into him.” She pushed out a breath. “My mother is ill.” She bit her lip. “Early stages of Alzheimer’s. I came up to help and get her affairs in order.” She blotted her eyes with the back of her hand. “I want some time with her.” Her voice broke. “While she still remembers me.” She sniffed and straightened in her chair. “And I want Faith to know her, while she can.”
Davis thought Julie’s emotions were genuine and she was navigating a tough situation. But she was holding something back. “Okay, but help me understand something. If you were afraid of running into Phillip Logan, why would you befriend his wife, Christine?”
Julie tensed and turned her head slowly toward Davis. “I didn’t befriend her. She’s Faith’s painting instructor. I just enrolled her in the class a couple weeks ago.”
Daniels swished his lips. “So, just a coincidence that you enrolled your kid in a class with your ex-husband’s wife?” He hunched his shoulders. “Small world?”
“In this case? Yes. Just a coincidence. I didn’t know Christine was the instructor when we went there. But of course, I put it together when I met her.” She shrugged. “She’s a nice woman and deserves better than Phillip.” Davis stared at her and Julie raised her hands. “Okay, fine. Yes, the thought crossed my mind that I should try to help her. If she wanted help. If she needed help.”
Davis leaned across the table. “Did she invite you to Logan’s funeral? Is that why you were there?”
Julie shook her head and defiance flickered in her eyes. “No, I went there for myself. I went there to make sure my boogie man was really gone and couldn’t hurt me anymore.” She smiled. “Think what you want about me, but it gave me an enormous amount of peace to know he was dead.”
Chapter 31
DAVIS AND DANIELS FOUND Melanie Campbell lounging poolside at her country club. Nice hilltop setting—pool, umbrella’d tables, waiters in pink jackets, soft jazz piping through the sound system. Melanie draped over a chair like a woman who knew every man in the place wanted her. Davis thought she was probably right. The woman reminded her of Liz Taylor in Cat on a Tin Roof. On the table, was a tall glass of something fruity speared with pineapple and cherries.
As they approached Campbell, she lowered her sunglasses and looked them over. “Hello.” Davis wondered if the woman always looked so smug. “Are you lost?”
They each took a seat and Davis said, “We interrupting anything?”
The dark-haired beauty swirled her drink and took a sip. “Just my peace of mind.”
Davis was pleased that Melanie was unhappy to see them. She wanted to throw her off balance. Surprised people generally revealed more than they intended. “We just have a couple of questions.”
Melanie slid her sunglasses back on and sighed. “I’m losing sunshine, Detective.”
Davis set the prescription bottle of Seconal on the glass tabletop. “We came across your sleeping pills in Logan’s desk. Seconal.”
Melanie barely glanced at the bottle. “Uh-huh.”
Davis tapped the bottle. “The same drug found in Mr. Logan's body. The one that killed him.”
Melanie lowered her sunglasses and her amethyst eyes gleamed in the sunlight. “Is that a question? And didn’t he drown? That’s what the papers said.”
Daniels pulled his chair closer to the table. “There was enough in him to kill a horse, ma'am.”
Melanie took a vape cigarette out of her tote and pulled a drag. “If you’re trying to make a point you’re not doing a very good job of it.”
Davis gritted her teeth. “You don’t seem surprised by any of this.”
Melanie wrinkled her nose. “Should I be? Phillip was an addict. Sex, drugs, booze. It didn’t matter. He needed something to get him going and he needed something to wind him down. He was like that for as long as I knew him. A lot of people are like that. They get high on being high. And everybody knew about Phillip, it was no secret.”
Daniels bobbed his head. “Just a fluke that you two used the same kind of sleeping pills? Okay. But how’d he end up with your pills?”
Campbell churned the ice in her drink with a straw. “It’s a common sleeping aid. All my friends take them.” She chuckled. “Phillip took what he wanted. Women, property, drugs. Made no difference to him.”
Davis showed Melanie the photo of her and Logan. “What about this? All your friends do this, too?”
Melanie took the photo from Davis and studied it. “Not my best angle. The lighting is dreadful.” She returned the photo to Davis. “He never mentioned he was filming us, though.” She rattled the ice in her glass. “Everybody does that too, these days.”
Davis waved the photo at her. “You find this amusing?”
Melanie slid her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “So I screwed Phillip. So we both took sleeping pills. So what? Is that a crime?”
Daniels leaned an elbow on the table. “Rumor has it that Logan was through with you. Replaced you with a smoking hot redhead.” He tapped his temple with a finger. “Kathy something.”
Campbell raised her glass at a passing waiter, who took it and went to fetch her another. “Don't the police rely on facts?”
Within seconds, the waiter reappeared with a fresh drink and set it on the table, then tottered off.
Daniels cocked his head. “And your sister was okay with sharing her husband? I’m thinking no, since she’s the one who gave us that photo.”
Melanie sipped her drink and stared at the empty pool—buying time to conceal her surprise. “Christine’s impulsive. Sometimes she lashes out and acts recklessly. Irrational.” She twisted toward Daniels. “She’s been that way for years.”
Daniels bobbed his head. “You saying your sister has some sort of mental illness?”
She forced a smile. “I'm saying that Phillip ruined her.”
Davis sneered. “It’s easy to blame somebody who can’t defend himself.”
Melanie flipped her hair. “There’s no defense for what he did to her. Chris isn’t like other people. She’s a sensitive girl who’s easily influenced. He crushed her.”
Daniels was disgusted by the woman and didn’t try to hide it. “But you boffing ol’ Phil didn’t crush her? You were doing her some kind of favor?”
Campbell tossed her sunglasses on the table and glared at him. “Did you come here to accuse me of something or just to judge me?” The nostrils of her finely sculpted nose flared. “Why can’t you just accept the obvious? Phillip killed himself because he was too arrogant to think anything would ever happen to him. Believe me, the world is a better place without him.”
Davis scraped back her chair and stood. “You think so? And Christine, does she agree with you?”
Melanie shielded her eyes with the flat of her hand. “You’d have to ask her. But I doubt she misses him. I don’t.”
HER CLASS WAS OVER but Christine lingered in the classroom. She didn’t have to rush home so Phillip wouldn’t punish her for being late. He couldn’t hurt her anymore. She could take her time—cleaning the brushes, capping the paints, and straightening the easels. She paused and admired her students' work hanging on the wall. So bright and cheerful. And hopeful. Kids seemed to have that built in—hope for a brighter tomorrow. Now, she knew how that felt. She rubbed her belly. “Someday I'll teach you to paint. Like Violet taught me.”
“Talking to yourself again?”
Christine swiveled toward Mel—only a little surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?” She giggled. “Aren't you worried you'll run into a child or something?” Melanie stood on the other side of the room, staring at her—as though debating whether to enter. Christine stepped toward her. “What’s the matter?”
Melanie shook her head. “The police came to see me today. At the club.”
Christine went back to tidying the room—collecting paints, brushes, and water jars. “Oh?” Guilt gnawed at her insides. She should never have given the police the pictur
e. It was an impulse. She was angry and wanted to get back at Melanie but now she regretted it. What was the point anyway? Phillip was gone. It was over.
Then Melanie was beside her and she put her hand on Christine’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you cared. About me and Phillip. Did you care?”
Christine didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to move on. She tried to hide her hurt but her sister could always see through her. “Why didn't you tell me?”
Melanie’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Why did you let me get away with it?”
Christine put her arm around Melanie. “I was waiting for you to tell me.”
Melanie hugged her tight, as she hadn’t since they were kids. “I’m sorry, Chris. I’m a selfish bitch and I’m sorry.” But before Christine could respond, Melanie released her and turned to the paintings on the wall. “These are pretty good for a bunch of rug rats.” She grinned at Christine. “I didn't know you could teach.”
Christine flipped her hair. “I’m pretty damn good, actually.”
Melanie smiled the way she used to when they were friends and shared everything. Maybe they could find their way back to that place. Christine needed her more than ever now.
“Yes, you are. So good.” She draped her arm around Christine and rested her head on her shoulder. “Too good for most of us.” She whispered, “I couldn't help myself, Chris. I just couldn’t.”
“I know. Neither could I.”
Chapter 32
DAVIS DROVE LIKE A maniac to Manny’s. Daniels had refused to give her the lab results over the phone and insisted on meeting her there. Any excuse to get pie and coffee. She spotted the pink neon sign for the diner a block away. Somebody should’ve told Manny that flamingos weren’t a ‘thing’ in L.A.
Daniels sprawled at a back booth, clanging a spoon in his coffee cup. She slid into the booth and snapped her fingers. “Okay, hand it over.”
Daniels raised a finger then called for the waitress. “Oh, Scotti?”
The perky blonde popped up behind the counter. How does she do that? “What now?” He curled a finger and she dragged her feet to their table. “Yeah?”
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