Intimate Relations: A Finn O'Brien Crime Thriller

by Rebecca Forster

  "No."

  "And you did not know her."

  "I never spoke to her," Enver said.

  He turned his eyes on Emi. She looked back at him. There was a faraway look in his wife's eyes. When she realized he was waiting for her to say something, she shook her head.

  "The woman? No, I had no reason to hurt this woman," Emi said, and the lawyer kept his eyes on her a second longer than was necessary. She did not waver beneath his gaze.

  "Then I believe you are fine. Call me if anything else comes up." He picked up the phone on his desk and spoke to his secretary. "Marilee, will you get Mr. and Mrs. Cuca the number for Beth Bartholomew?"

  He smiled as the Cucas rose.

  "Marilee will give you Ms. Bartholomew's contact information. She's an excellent criminal defense attorney. It would be good to have her on your side now. If the police want to question you further, make sure Beth is with you. I'll fill her in on your residency status and the NDA, so we're all on the same page."

  The Cucas left the office and drove back to The Brewery. Mitzie saw them and she waved. Pedal saw them and called out. But Emi and Enver didn't notice or didn't want to. They went into their home, closed their door, and locked it. They had lunch, and then began to work again. When work was over, before dinner, Enver left Emi and stayed apart from her. She went to bed alone. She didn't hear him come to bed because she had been asleep for a long while. But when he stirred in his sleep, she woke. Rolling over she reached for him but changed her mind. She knew where he'd been and he wouldn't want her any more than she wanted him.

  Cori and Finn stood in the living room of the house on the hill. Sam was long gone. The car on the side of the garage had been his. They had taken a quick look through the mess of papers, discarded cups, and food wrappers. Finn and Cori checked out the trunk, and had seen nothing remotely interesting. The detectives sent him on his way. They had everything they wanted from Sam: the address where he was supposed to deliver the computer, the name and email contact of the company that hired him, and his home address. If they had asked for his first born, Sam would have wrapped it up and given it over. Finn gave him a warning: he was only to tell his employer that he could not find the computer. There was to be no mention of the police or the fact that they were now in possession of the key to the house.

  They had bagged the key, although Cori and Finn had no illusions that they would find anyone's prints on it but Sam's. A virtual assistant who had no curiosity about who paid him or what he was doing for a client was either really smart or a total idiot. Cori and Finn had a very short discussion about entering the premises. They believed that, when finding a man running from the property, they were justified in entering the house. They could argue that they feared someone inside might be hurt. Cori and Finn left the door open behind them, calling out even though they knew no one else was inside. The house seemed to know that no one would be ever again.

  "You know, guys like Sam kind of make you wonder how that generation is going to rule the world."

  "I'm thinking they might not be able to push my wheelchair in my old age unless they can maneuver it with a joy stick."

  "Track pads are the thing now," Cori said. She wandered the living room, two small steps at a time, careful not to touch anything.

  "By then all they'll have to do is think the word 'go' and that chair of mine will be off and running." Finn stopped in front of the painting that had made Sam so uncomfortable.

  "If they can do that, then they can think us dead and be done with it," Cori mused. "Nice furniture. This girl had good taste."

  "She was a beauty," Finn said. Cori turned to look at the painting he was admiring.

  "I'm with Sam. It's freakishly realistic. Three dimensional," Cori said.

  "I wouldn't be surprised if that painting talked," Finn said. He took a step closer. "Enver Cuca. Signed bottom right as it should be."

  "Well, well," Cori said.

  "He is good, I'll give him that."

  "Does it not strike you strange, Cori?" Finn mused. "Is it not odd, that Enver Cuca painted this portrait of a woman who died in his home. Yet he says he doesn't know who she is or even that she was in his house?"

  "This is Los Angeles. The whole place is frickin' weird," Cori said.

  "Mr. Cuca must have spent some time with her to paint something like this. All he had to do was look at her mail to know her name," Finn said.

  "Not necessarily. If Sam was hired virtually, why not Enver Cuca? A picture is all he'd need. Or one of those programs where they do imaging? Ask Lapinski. He'll know. He knows all that stuff," Cori said. "She could have sent a 3-D image, he paints from it, and sends this thing off for delivery."

  "And she dies in a room upstairs in his studio? A bit of a coincidence," Finn said.

  "Stranger things have happened."

  "Not many," Finn answered. He took a minute, and then said, "So I think there's only one thing to do."

  "Go talk to the Cucas again?"

  "'Tis on the list, right after we secure a search warrant."

  Finn's phone rang. He answered it and walked away. The call took no more than a minute.

  "Hot date?" Cori asked as they made their way back through the house.

  "Gretchen," Finn said.

  "From Micks?" Cori seemed impressed.

  "One and the same," Finn answered.

  "Nice," Cori said, giving her blessing.

  "Thank you, Cori," Finn said. "I'm thinking so."

  They got back in the car. Cori fixed her seat belt, adjusted her shoulder holster, and dropped her purse at her feet. Finn took the wheel and guided them back the way they'd come. Cori watched him. She would always love Finn O'Brien, had been in love with him for a time, but now she was happy to see him move on. She had Amber, and the baby, Tucker, and Thomas Lapinski waiting in the wings. Cori wished that one of these days Finn O'Brien would have that much happiness. But he wasn't going to have a chance to see if Gretchen the firefighter was going to be his princess. By the time they were almost back to the precinct, she called again. She was pulling double duty and would talk to him after her three day shift.

  "There's only one thing left then," Cori said. "You're coming to dinner."

  Finn laughed aloud.

  "Sure a broken date does not make me a broken man, Cori."

  "Nope, but Lapinski's coming. What say we pick his brain over a beer or two. I'd sure like to know who it was that hired good old Sam."

  "Poor Thomas," Finn said. "Used and abused."

  "And loving every minute of it."

  20

  Cori pushed the button on the side of the driver's seat and rode backward three inches. She rested one knee on the steering wheel and fiddled with her phone. She was back where she started, sitting in a car parked on the fancy driveway in front of Roxana Masha Novika's house. It was another perfect day, the view was still astounding, but it was morning and there was a snake of bumper-to-bumper cars on the freeway.

  She had watched the gridlock for a while, and then kicked around the garbage cans again. Cori had tried the garage door hoping to get a closer look at the cars inside, but it was still locked. For a while she sat on the passenger side of her car, door open, legs splayed as she kept an eye on the road so she could see Finn coming. After it got hot, and Finn called to say the judge was dragging his feet on the warrant, Cori got behind the wheel once again and turned the air conditioning vents her way.

  The night before hadn't been what she expected. Thomas was late, Amber tired, and the baby cranky. The fried chicken and mashed potatoes were reheated. Lapinski didn't have time to research the company that hired Sam. Cori and Finn were disappointed that they even had to ask him, but the LAPD resources were stretched so thin they would have to wait until the cows came home if they relied on their research department. With the hour late, the small group disbanded with weary good nights.

  This morning she learned that the LAPD was restricted from using facial recognition software. Some group of do-
gooders had sued claiming the software was culturally biased. It would be litigated for years in the courts, so Cori would rather have Lapinski take a look. If anything came of his poking around, then they'd worry about a lawsuit. Now, bored out of her mind, Cori sent the attorney a message:

  Morning. I owe you another chicken dinner. Work your magic.

  Tell me who this guy is.

  She hit send and the video of Bev, Roxana, and the Asian man was in Lapinski's phone. Cori closed her eyes and counted her blessings. She and Finn had a lot to show for their work: victim ID, a video, a bloody dress in a bag, a patent pending intrigue, mention of an NDA, and knowledge that something was about to change the world after a tech reveal at the Asylum shindig. What she wouldn't give to know what that secret was and why Roxana was critical to it.

  Just as Cori was drifting off, a small truck turned into the drive. Cori dropped her knee, sat up straight, and watched it park. A young woman hopped out of the cab and slammed the door behind her. Cori got out of her car too.

  "How's it going?" Cori said.

  The woman gave the detective a chin tuck and a huge smile. She was the bittiest thing with the longest hair. It swayed all the way to her butt. Her eyes were huge and brown. She wore no make-up, had the body of a teenager, and the attitude of someone who had been around the block.

  "Not bad," she said, unconcerned to see someone waiting in the driveway. "You?"

  "Can't complain," Cori said.

  She locked her car and as she did so her sweatshirt fell off one shoulder making her look like a sexy fairy.

  "Have you been waiting long?" The girl slowed as she passed Cori, but didn't stop. Instead she did a little pirouette and ended up walking backwards.

  "Awhile." Cori followed along.

  "If I were you, I wouldn't hang around," the girl said. "Roxana hasn't been here for a while. I hope she didn't, you know, lead you on or anything."

  "Does she do that to a lot of people?" Cori asked.

  "Enough." The girl laughed and turned again. She headed for the front door.

  "Don't worry, this isn't personal." Cori raised her voice. The girl gave her a passing glance.

  "Good to know."

  She took a key ring out of the pocket of her cut-offs. She wasn't adverse to a conversation, but she wasn't especially interested either. Still, she was polite.

  "So if it's not a hook up, I still think you're out of luck. She hasn't been here for a week, maybe more."

  "How do you know," Cori asked.

  "'Cause I clean the place." The girl found the key she wanted on her chain, and put it in the lock. She opened the front door, held onto the knob, put her hip out and smiled. "Want to come in?"

  "I should tell you I'm a cop," Cori said.

  "What did she do?" the maid asked.

  "She died for starters."

  "That's a bummer."

  "Still want me to come in?" Cori asked.

  "Since she croaked, I guess I'm going to have to find another gig." She pushed the door open wide. "We might as well have some fun."

  Finn found them by the pool when he arrived with warrant in hand. Cori's pants were rolled up to the knees, her feet dangled in the pool, and her jacket was on a lounge. A young woman was in the pool, her arms crossed on the tile edge, her feet kicking gently as she talked to Cori. Her name was Karyn with a 'k' and a 'y', and she was buck naked. She looked fetching; water beads on her cheeks sparkled under the late morning sun, her skin was smooth and tan. Her hair was long, slicked back in front and floating behind her in the water. Little dry wisps curled around her brow. Under the water, Finn could just make out her bum. Given the glancing light and the movement of the water, her undress seemed quite innocent. She smiled at Finn, invited him to join her in a swim, and then took no offense when he declined.

  "Karyn is an actress, but she cleans houses to make ends meet. I was invited in, but I told her I needed to wait for you outside," Cori said, knowing he was wondering if she had already made the search warrant moot.

  Finn smiled at both women. He asked Karyn, "How is it in Hollywood?"

  "It's a shit place, but I'll make it."

  "I've no doubt," Finn said.

  "So I was telling Cori that I saw the Asian guy once. The one in the video."

  The girl dipped her head back, and then shook it out. The little wisps were plastered against her head now. Finn pulled up a chair and looked at the video Cori held out to remind him. He needed no reminder. It was a pity to look at Beverly demean herself, to see a man so feeble in the face of two women and their anger. He only wished the video was clearer. Finn would have liked to see Roxana's reaction to the attack. Was she frightened? Angry? Disdainful. To see her face at that moment would have told Finn so much. Yet all he saw was the push, Bev leaning over her, the man moving forward. Finn got the sense that should Roxana scramble up, Bev would have gotten as good as she gave.

  "And do you know his name?" Finn asked.

  "What?" Her head came up. "My ears were under water."

  "Do you know this gentleman's name?" Finn said.

  "Nope. But I'll tell you this, it was the only time I saw her be close to human." Karyn drew out the word so that it was clear there was no love lost between her and her employer.

  "Sounds like you didn't get along?" Cori asked.

  "Oh, come on. Everybody knows that stchitck. I've seen it on Law and Order a zillion times. I tell you we didn't get along, you tell me I'm a suspect." Karyn kicked off, did a twirl, disappeared under the water, came up, and swam back to the side. "I'm going to miss this place. When she wasn't home for a couple days I just hung out back here, read scripts, and recorded some auditions. It was a sweet gig. Sometimes I thought that Roxana didn't really live here. I know she didn't cook. She drank, but she didn't cook.”

  "We'll give you a pass on the suspect thing," Cori said, trying not to laugh. "And you tell us what you know about this man."

  "I don't know anything about him." Karyn's face was suddenly pinched as if the mere mention of him was distasteful. "He came in when I was finishing one day. Weird dude. I kind of felt sorry for him. He couldn't look me in the eye." She looked at Cori. "Did you have one of those smart kids in grammar school? The one whose mom sent them to school with their shirt buttoned all the way up? Glasses. Their pants were always a size too big, so they could grow into them?"

  "I did," Cori said.

  "Sure, I think I might have been that boy," Finn said.

  "Oh, right." Karyn laughed and gave him a wink. "Anyway, he came in and sat down. I heard them talking a little bit and Roxana was almost, I don't know, flirty? That was strange for her because she was pretty mean to everybody. Not when she was on camera. Now there was a good actress."

  "Who were these everybodies she was mean to?" Finn asked.

  "Typical wanna-be-influencer types. Lots of pouty looks in the camera, lots of money or pretend money. Who knows? Anyone who came here was like that." Karyn shrugged. "The movies I'm going to be in will mean something. What Roxana did was just gross. Sometimes I'd catch her in the bathroom in her undies. She'd be looking into the mirror and putting on her make-up. Of course she was filming. She talked like the people who followed her were her very, very best girlfriends."

  "Did she have a lot of them? Followers?"

  "Last time I looked she had like almost a million. I have to hand it to her, she figured out how to make it work. I always wondered if people would be okay with her being such a bitch."

  "Someone wasn't," Finn said.

  "That's funny," Kayrn said as she put her hands palm down on the edge of the pool. She started to push up. "Fair warning. I'm getting out."

  "Then Cori and I would best be going about our business."

  "Chicken," she laughed.

  Finn raised a hand in farewell, and left her to frolic naked in the pool without an audience.

  "She'll go far in Hollywood if she ever gets a break," he said.

  "It would be easier for her if she married
a rich guy, and forgot about the movies," Cori answered.

  "Sure then she could act happy all day long."

  "Dildo." Cori held up a rather impressive toy. "It's new. And we've got some oils, lotions, and condoms. Not exactly Pleasure Palace kinky. You could probably find the same in any suburban housewife's bedroom."

  "Sure, I've not met such a housewife," Finn said, more amused than wistful.

  "Sure, you weren't looking," Cori said and chuckled. "Bet you're in for some surprises when you find her."

  "One can only hope, Cori." Finn opened a door revealing a walk-in closet. Cori joined him.

  "Wow." Cori turned little circles, nodding her appreciation.

  "I'm thinking if I met a housewife who had all this I wouldn't know what to do with her."

  "It even smells rich in here," Cori said.

  Roxana's closet was as big as Cori's first apartment, but better turned out. There was a tufted round lounge covered in apricot velvet. Built-in storage ran from floor to ceiling. Half of it looked like an apothecary's cabinet. Drawer after drawer opened to lingerie, jewelry, and scarves. On one wall, a library of lighted cubbyholes showcased purses and bags. It shared space with rows of shoes in every color of the rainbow. High heels, low heels, strange heels that looked as if they had been carved into totem poles. Cori was like a moth to a flame.

  "She's got..." Cori pointed as she counted silently. "Fifteen pairs of black pumps. Fifteen."

  "I'm assuming by your tone that's excessive," Finn said.

  "How many did Bev have?" Cori whipped her head his way, her blonde hair flipping over her shoulder.

  "I've no idea," Finn answered.

  "Well that's reason right there to leave you, buddy. You didn't notice her shoes."

  "I noticed the ones she was wearing the other night."

  Finn turned his attention to the clothing that hung in neat rows, coordinated by category and then by color. Jackets, jeans, suits, slacks, dresses, and evening gowns. Finn pushed them aside and looked at the walls behind.