The Perfect Impression

by Pierce, Blake

  She paused, apparently waiting for Jessie to either confirm or reject her apprehension. But Jessie said nothing. He head was swimming with too many conflicting emotions to put into words. Kat pressed on.

  “And it’s true. I think that’s why I waited so long to say anything. After I covered for her once, thinking I could help her through this and avoid a conflict between you two, I was culpable. I let that color my decisions going forward. I was worried about how you’d react if I told you, so I held back. I convinced myself the drug dealer thing was just a one-off. And every day that I did that just made it worse. But now, after having her calmly blackmail me, I realize that it’s gone way too far. You had to know, no matter the consequences.”

  Jessie sat in the corner of the boat, huddled against both the cold that was sneaking in through the cheap windows and the pain of her friend’s disloyalty. Worse than that was the guilt. This had been happening underneath her nose for months and she’d been oblivious.

  Now she recalled another incident last fall, one in which Hannah willingly using herself as bait to bust a sexual slavery ring. Jessie had been proud, had thought her sister was bravely moving past her fear to help. But it seemed that she was in it more for the thrill than for justice. Who knew what other jeopardy she’d put herself in for an adrenaline rush?

  “Jessie, are you there?” Kat asked quietly.

  She took a second to gather herself. There was no way she could deal with the magnitude of what she’d been told in this moment. She was on a boat in choppy Pacific Ocean waters, staring at six people, one of whom might be a murderer. Her little sister was leading a double life. And her best friend had lied about it for months. When she spoke, she was impressed at how detached and unemotional she sounded.

  “I appreciate you telling me this,” she said. “It was the right thing to do and I know it must have been hard for you. But at this moment, it’s hard for me to see how I can ever trust you again. I don’t have words to express how betrayed I feel. Unfortunately, that’s not something I have time to focus on now. I’m trying to solve a murder. And apparently when I get back, I need to go see if my sister is out drag racing or doing amateur undercover work as a hooker to bust a pimp.”

  “I can check on her again for you,” Kat pleaded more than offered. “I’ll stop by your place.”

  “No,” Jessie said stiffly. “I think you’ve done enough.”

  She hung up and looked out the misty window to see if the shore was in sight yet. Suddenly her priorities had shifted. Getting to the bottom of Gabby’s murder could wait an hour. She needed to get home now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Jessie ran down the driveway to the front door.

  Even on a Sunday afternoon it had taken nearly forty-five minutes to get from Port of Long Beach to her Mid-Wilshire house. After telling Detective Peters she’d meet up with him later, she’d promised the rideshare driver a hundred percent tip if he was casual about the traffic laws while getting her home. She texted Hannah twice and called once on the way, but got no response.

  Trying to stay composed, she reminded herself that just because she’d only learned about this behavior, it didn’t mean that her sister was engaged in something dangerous at this moment. She might just be somewhere loud. Her phone could be on silent. There was no need to panic. She suppressed the urge to call Ryan. He was working on a case. She didn’t want freak him out if this wasn’t an actual emergency.

  When she arrived, she went through the elaborate security procedure at the front door of the house, for once resenting rather than appreciating it.

  “Hannah!” she called out once she got inside. There was no response. “Hannah!”

  No one was here. She sat down at the breakfast table and instructed herself to calm the hell down. Hannah was fine. It was Sunday afternoon and she was enjoying being young and free in an exciting city. That was all.

  As if in response to her slightly more restrained state of mind, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Hannah. It read: Hey. Sorry for delay. Phone was off. Saw a movie at the mall with friends. Going to window shop for a bit. All cool on Catalina?

  Jessie allowed a few seconds for the wave of relief to pass through her system. She responded with a casualness she didn’t feel: Back now. Still working the case. See you tonight.

  But the relief only lasted briefly. There was no guarantee that Hannah was actually where she claimed to be and not out doing something foolish or dangerous. Jessie could feel her mind spinning out of control and forced herself to exhale deeply.

  There was no point in rushing to the mall to accost her, she told her herself, nor in bringing up what she’d just learned from Kat. Nothing constructive could be done until they were seated in the same room, looking each other in the eyes. Until then, her best move was to return her focus to the case at hand. In a weird way, this murder was a welcome distraction.

  She looked at the time. It was approaching 2 p.m. Peters was checking in at a hotel near the Central Police Station. After that, he was going to walk there to review whatever background information he could get on all the members of the swingers’ group. Jessie was supposed to meet him after freshening up.

  She scarfed down a microwavable breakfast burrito before getting into the shower. As she let the warm water massage her tight shoulder muscles, she reviewed the case in her head. Of Gabby’s friends, none had an airtight alibi. But a few were better than others.

  Alejandro the golf caddy could account for some of Melissa Ferro’s time. Grace the manicurist had vouched for a stretch of the evening for Gabby’s husband, Steve. Maura the bartender had verified that Rich Ferro had accompanied County Supervisor Philip Blake to his room. That still left each of them with unaccounted for time. But nowhere near as much as Theo Aldridge or the Landers.

  The Landers had said they were in bed together during the time of death. But of course, being each other’s alibi witness wasn’t ideal. And Theo Aldridge had even less of a leg to stand on.

  He had claimed that no hotel staff would assert that he’d been with them that night and when Jessie and Peters asked around, that turned out to be true. But while that might help him keep his marriage alive, it didn’t do much to prove his innocence. For that, he would have been better off having a housekeeper or masseuse who could personally verify his whereabouts.

  After showering and getting dressed, Jessie looked over Aldridge’s handwritten timeline and noticed something she hadn’t picked up on before. All the names of people he asserted he’d hung out with from around 10 p.m. to 11:20, when Melissa ran out of Gabby’s suite screaming, were noted in one long list. But there weren’t any specifics about when he was with each of them. That list of names included Marin and Barry Lander.

  But according to the Landers, they had gone up to their suite around ten for some private time. It was certainly possible that Aldridge had just been sloppy with the times he wrote down. He was quite drunk after all. But reviewing her interview notes, she saw that, according to Marin Lander, “Theo left around the same time we did.”

  That was like an awfully specific detail to recall, one that Aldridge seemed to agree with time-wise, if only hazily. Jessie’s mind began to spin out a scenario, one that might explain why a pair of unrepentant, married swingers might turn in early while on a group vacation at a party hotel.

  It was time to pay a visit to the Landers. This wouldn’t be the first time she followed a lead based on little more than a hunch.

  *

  Jessie didn’t call Peters.

  She knew he’d be pissed. But even though he’d proven to be a more competent partner than she’d first thought, she had reason to go it alone. All of the swingers crowd had invoked lawyers, which meant that law enforcement couldn’t interview them without counsel present. But Jessie’s consultant status made her obligation to follow those rules less clear. Until they were clarified she was happy to take advantage of the loophole.

  Besides, she still had some residual reservations abou
t where Peters’s loyalties lay. She wanted to believe he was here for the reason he said, to solve this case and prove that their little sheriff’s department team was instrumental in keeping their island safe for visitors.

  But some small part of her, one she wasn’t proud of but couldn’t silence, wondered if the guy was really a double agent, here to report back to Captain Hawley and warn him if things were about to get ugly so his boss could use any pull he had to shut the investigation down.

  It wasn’t fair to the detective, but it was the main reason she was by herself when she pulled up in front of the Landers’ impressive Westwood home. She finally justified the decision by telling herself that the questions she needed to ask were so sensitive that the couple might not answer if there were two people doing the questioning.

  She walked up the path to the house, wondering what business the Landers were in that allowed them such a striking house. The structure looked like a Swiss chalet dropped in the middle of West Los Angeles. Complete with multiple wooden balconies, intricate overhanging eaves, and several flowerbeds littered with elaborate collections of gnomes in sexually suggestive poses, it could only belong to people with more money than they needed.

  Jessie worked at UCLA, less than two miles from the house, and yet this secluded stretch of the community was like some sheltered, foreign world. Every other house on the block was equally imposing, though none were quite as kitschy.

  The doorbell made a yodeling sound when she pressed it. It was still playing thirty seconds later when Barry Lander opened the door. He had changed since she saw him last and was now wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater.

  “Who is it?” his wife called out from somewhere inside.

  “It’s Ms. Hunt from our island chat,” he yelled back. “I think she missed us.”

  “Before you say anything,” Jessie told him, “I think I may be able to help eliminate you and your wife as suspects. But if you refuse to speak with me, there’s nothing I can do to help.”

  “Are you even allowed to be here?” he asked, with less animosity that she’d expected.

  “I’m not bound by the rules of the LAPD or Sheriff’s Department. We can still talk, as long as you’re willing.”

  “She says she can clear us!” he shouted back along the echoing hall. Jessie didn’t point out that she hadn’t been quite that definitive.

  “Invite her in,” Marin Lander instructed. Barry bowed as he gestured for her to enter.

  She followed him down a long hall into a large lodge-style living room, complete with a roaring fireplace as big as the one Charles Foster Kane had at Xanadu. Mrs. Lander was lying on one of the couches under a fluffy blanket.

  “Are you sure you’re not here for pleasure instead of business?” she asked provocatively as Jessie sat down on an ottoman across from her.

  “All business,” Jessie assured her.

  “As I would have guessed,” Barry said, climbing under the blanket next to his wife, “though it’s a shame.”

  A brief image of pigs in a blanket popped into Jessie’s head but she pushed it away before the urge to giggle overcame her. It was obvious that the lack of sleep was starting to make her a little loopy.

  “I don’t need much of your time,” she said briskly. “If you can confirm a theory I have, it could go a long way to helping me solve Gabby’s murder.”

  “What’s your theory?” Marin Lander asked, clearly intrigued.

  “You said that you left the bar last night around ten and went to your room, where you remained until you heard Melissa screaming, correct?”

  “That’s right,” Barry replied.

  “You also mentioned that Theo Aldridge left the bar around the same time as you,” Jessie continued.

  “Did we?” Marin asked, squirming slightly on the couch.

  “You did,” Jessie assured her. “And according to his timeline of his whereabouts that night, Theo indicated that you two were among the people who could vouch for his location during part of that period.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” Barry said, though it was clear that he did.

  “Well, Mr. Lander, if you and your wife were in your room from ten on and Theo indicated that he was with you some time after ten, that would mean that he was in your room as well.”

  Neither Lander spoke. Practically, that was almost as good as a confirmation to Jessie. But officially it wasn’t near enough, so she went on.

  “Here’s what I think: Ariana left the island upset at the idea of swinging. But Theo was intrigued. The two of you were more than willing to satisfy his curiosity. But because of the prohibition among your friends against intermingling, you had to keep it quiet. You were breaking the cardinal rule. You didn’t want to use him as an alibi if at all possible because of the repercussions among the group. Am I close?”

  The two of them exchanged a look Jessie didn’t understand. She sat up straighter and allowed her right arm to rest on the ottoman near her gun, just in case they reacted particularly poorly to her suggestion.

  “Ms. Hunt,” Marin said huffily, tossing the blanket off the both of them, “that is a scurrilous allegation. We’re already dealing with the death of one of our closest friends. Now you would seek to sow discord among the rest of us by suggesting that we would break the promise we all made to each other? I think you should go.”

  Jessie stood up, as did Barry Lander. He again gestured, this time for her to leave. As he led her back down the hallway to the front door, she couldn’t help but feel that Marin’s protestations were more of a performance than a result of any heartfelt offense.

  When they reached the door, Barry opened it for her. She started to step through when he leaned in. For a second she thought he was about to make a pass and made a fist, which she kept tight at her side.

  “We feel that our word should be enough to confirm our whereabouts last night,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck. “But should the need arise, we might have video evidence that confirms that we were in our hotel room, and with whom.”

  “What are you saying?” she asked.

  “I’m saying that I hope you’re able to find Gabby’s killer without needing to upset the delicate balance of our group. I don’t want to add insult to grievous injury. But if push comes to shove, and our freedom is at stake, I can definitively verify where we were from ten to eleven twenty and who was with us. I assure you that you can eliminate us as suspects, Ms. Hunt. And though I would prefer not to provide visual evidence to corroborate it, you can eliminate Theo as well. What can I say? The boy was curious.”

  Jessie stared at him for several seconds before responding, refusing to even hint at the excitement that was growing in her chest.

  “Don’t lose that video,” she told him. “You may end up needing it.”

  Once he closed the door, she fought the desire to sprint to her car. Within seconds of getting in, she was looking up the Aldridges’ address on her phone. And within moments of that, she was headed their way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Hannah was getting bored.

  The movie had distracted her for a few hours. But she was still agitated by her encounter with Kat that morning. She had hoped that walking around the mall with the three girls from school whose company she could stand would keep her restlessness at bay. But there was only so much trying on of cute tops that she couldn’t afford to buy before her thoughts began to wander.

  Jessie had left her alone after a flurry of smothering calls and texts, but Hannah knew it could get far worse than sisterly over-communication. So far it seemed that Kat had kept her mouth shut. If she’d spilled, Jessie would already be here. But even if she’d been lucky so far, the situation with Kat was a ticking time bomb. She’d thought that she could keep the woman quiet by warning her that telling Jessie anything would imperil their friendship.

  But the more Hannah thought about it, the less effective she suspected the move would ultimately be. Katherine Gentry was used to dealing with hardened
, violent criminals. She wasn’t likely to be intimated by a teenage girl, regardless of the consequences.

  Hannah passively observed as her brain starting to come up with alternative solutions to her dilemma, ones more dramatic than simple blackmail. Unsavory images popped into her head. She felt a shudder of an emotion that rarely reached her: shame. Almost audibly, she ordered herself to stop those thoughts. She needed to focus on something else.

  As she looked desperately around the mall, her eyes fell on a chain jewelry store just across the indoor courtyard from where she and her friends stood. It was staffed by two bored-looking women: one middle-aged, the other in her late twenties. There was no security guard. She had an idea. And even though she knew it was a bad one, it seemed like the only way to shake even worse thoughts out of her head, so she went with it.

  “Hey, guys,” she said, getting the attention of the other girls. “What if I told you I had a way for all of us to buy every outfit we tried on today?”

  “I’d say I’m listening,” said Melina, the snarkiest of the three. Tall and skinny with long black hair, she always seemed the most game for trouble.

  “Okay,” Hannah said, motioning for them to gather round her as she lowered her voice. “This is going to sound a little out there but I think it could work. Do you see that jewelry store over there?”

  They all glanced over and nodded. Kayla, always a little skittish, already looked nervous. Her cheeks turned red, offering a dramatic contrast to her pale skin and light blonde hair.

  “This isn’t going to—?” she began.

  “I thought you were going to at least hear me out,” Hannah balked.

  “Sorry,” Kayla said, chastened.

  “That’s okay,” Hannah said and quickly moved on. “So I’m thinking that Janine goes in by herself. Ask the younger woman for help. You should find an item in the thousand-dollar range, maybe a bracelet or necklace. While you’re trying it on, chatting with the saleswoman, the three of us will come in, asking the older one if they have anything inexpensive. Maybe we say we’re looking for matching charms or something.”