by M. Z. Kelly
“This looks like a key to one of them safe deposit boxes,” Mo said. “Maybe he put something in a bank.”
“Like a truckload of money,” Natalie said, her voice pitching higher. “You’re rich, Kate. It’s just a matter of pickin’ up the quid.”
“The problem is, even if there is quid, I don’t have the slightest idea where to begin looking for it.”
“Baby sis and me can do the legwork for you,” Mo said. “We’ll go to every bank in town ‘til we find the box.”
I sighed. “There’s also the matter of time. If that is a key to a safe deposit box, the rent on it would probably have expired a couple decades ago.”
Natalie came over to me. “What’s the matter with you, Kate? You can’t just give up on this. Your daddy would expect a lot more of you.”
I massaged my brow, the headache I had earlier now in full bloom. I stood. “Let me know if you turn up anything. I’m going to bed.”
Mo followed me to the door. “What you gonna do ‘bout fixing up Jessica with Boris?”
I chuckled, despite my pounding head. “Maybe it’s fate, and Jessica and Boris are meant to be a couple. I’ll see what I can do.”
TWENTY-THREE
The dull throb of my headache was still with me the next morning. I’d spent the night thinking about the possibility that my adoptive father had left me the key to a safe deposit box. The more I thought about it, the more likely that seemed. But I also knew that, even if my friends found the bank with the box, the payment for its rental would have likely ended with my father’s death and the contents would probably have reverted to the bank.
After getting ready for work, I decided I had no choice but to call Mom and ask her what she knew. After I got her on the line and endured some small talk about her séance, I got to the point.
“I found a key in my bedroom last night that I think might be to a safe deposit box. It could be that Dad had rented the box when I was a little girl.”
“How is that possible?”
I decided to only give her the barest of details. “I had a memory surface about Dad giving me an envelope before he died. Did he ever mention having a safe deposit box?”
Mom didn’t answer right away. I wasn’t sure if she was searching her memory or if there was another reason. She finally said, “I don’t think so.”
“Please, Mom, try to remember. This is important.”
“I just said I don’t remember him having a safe deposit box.” There was a hard edge to her voice. “Why would he give you an envelope with the key?”
“I don’t know.” I exhaled, trying to gather my thoughts. “Maybe there was something he wanted me to have. It’s been over twenty years, so whatever it was is probably gone.”
“It seems strange to me.”
“I know.” When she didn’t respond, I said, “Well, I have to go to work, so I’ll talk to you later.”
As Bernie and I drove to the station, I thought about my conversation with my mother. I wasn’t entirely convinced she’d been forthcoming with me. Mom had a history of keeping secrets, especially when it came to my father. Was this another incident of her withholding information? I wasn’t sure, but decided I would need to have another conversation with her—in person.
When I got to my work station, Charlie was at his desk, eating a bagel with cream cheese. He hadn’t shaved and had on the same shirt as yesterday. So much for him getting his act together.
“What gives?” I said.
He shrugged. “We’re supposed to meet with Grumpy in an hour.”
“You okay?”
He chewed, squirted cream cheese on his desk, wiped it up, and finally said, “Spent some time at The Short Stop last night. Shoulda left a lot sooner.”
The Short Stop was a cop bar that my partner had a history of closing down.
“I thought you’d turned over a new leaf.”
Another shrug, but no other response. I knew Charlie and decided that he was probably still upset over his encounter with Jessica. I decided I had nothing to lose by mentioning Nana’s proposition to him.
I got right to the point. “What do you think about me setting up Jessica with Boris?”
“Nana’s guy? Are you out of your mind?”
“They’re splitsville. It was Nana’s idea.”
Charlie laughed, a rare event. “I saw that guy once. He looks like somebody chewed him up and spit him out.”
I smiled. “I know.”
He sipped his coffee, ruminating. “Those two just might deserve each other.”
“That was my thought.”
He shrugged. “Go ahead. The sooner she finds another victim, the sooner she leaves me alone. One monster deserves another.”
Jessica wasn’t at work yet, which was probably just as well, since I had no idea how to bring the subject up to her. I pushed paperwork around on my desk for a half hour, then called Cynthia McFadden. She agreed to meet Mel and me for dinner at Katsuya’s on Hollywood Boulevard that night. After letting Mel know about the get-together, Charlie and I met up with our working group in Lieutenant Grundy’s office.
The lieutenant’s short, heavy stature and graying moustache made me think of a walrus as he began the discussion. “Let’s hear what Mumford and the kid had to say.”
Darby’s summary of the autopsy was to the point. “Single shot to the right temple, a head full of lead. No other findings.”
Leo concurred. “Mumford, as usual, didn’t offer much, but there was nothing to indicate Todd’s death was anything other than a suicide.”
Grundy seemed annoyed with Darby’s comment. He cut his dark eyes in the direction of Charlie and me. “The kid?”
I took some time, explaining how Melissa Irving had worked with Amy Bratton, trying to access her repressed memory. “The child heard voices outside her window before she was taken into the back yard the day her family was murdered. I know it’s a little strange, but when she looked outside she saw a man who reminded her of Ronald Reagan. She and her mother had gone to the presidential library recently.”
Darby’s laughter went on for several seconds. “Maybe the ghost of a dead president killed the family.”
“She said the man wore dark clothes and had dark hair, so it made her think of Reagan. We’re going to have a sketch artist work with her.”
Darby continued to laugh as Grundy said, “What about the woman? Did we get the artist’s rendering?”
“On the monitor,” Selfie said. After the image appeared, she added, “Not sure it’s much help.”
That was an understatement. The woman had short, dark hair and features that were nothing out of the ordinary. She could be anyone you passed on the street and never gave a second thought.”
“Maybe she’s first lady with a new hairdo,” Darby said, laughing again. “I think what we have here is a presidential conspiracy.”
“Can it,” Grundy said, fed up with his little detective. He looked around the table. “What else?”
“There’s nothing else,” Darby said. “We’ve got a victim who was a bigamist with a secret life. When the second wife found out about it, she began spying on him. Carmen Todd probably confronted him about his other family, and, when he refused to divorce the first wife, she went ballistic. We’ve got the electronic devices, the drugs, and a motive. Case closed.”
Charlie scowled at Darby. “We’ve also got a prior murder, a kid with a tattoo and masks with the same thing, and a man and woman who she ID’d as being at the scene of the second murders. The case has enough holes in it to drive a semi-truck through.”
“I agree,” I said. “Nothing we have adds up.”
“It all adds up,” Darby said. “And it’s a hell of a lot more than the crazy kid’s statements that a dead president was involved.”
Leo spoke up for the first time, looking at Selfie and Molly. “What do we know about Carmen Todd?”
Molly had the bio. “She was thirty-two and worked for PBC News for the past five years. Her
specialty was taking pro-bono cases for people who claimed they were cheated or injured due to corporate malfeasance.”
“Any idea where Lee Bratton met her?”
Molly shook her head. “Todd went to USC and got her degree from the Gould School of Law. It’s possible that at some point she crossed paths with Bratton, since they were both lawyers, but we have no way of knowing for sure.”
Grundy ran a couple fingers through his droopy moustache, probably turning over what we knew about the murders. “Let me get with the captain. I also have my doubts that we have all the facts, but I’m not sure there’s anywhere left to go on this.” He looked at Charlie and me. “Since it’s Friday, you two can hang around the rest of the day, work on reports. If the captain wants to move on, you’re back in Cold Case come Monday morning.”
Darby was obviously delighted. “It’s back in the fridge for you two popsicles.” He rose. “It’s been real.”
“A real pain in my ass,” Charlie said, also rising and locking eyes with him.
Grundy intervened. “Enough. You two walk away. Now.”
Charlie and I spent most of the day pushing paper and grumbling about probably being pulled off the Bratton case. As the afternoon wore on, my partner dumped his coffee and put on his coat.
“You calling it an early day?” I asked.
“Heading downtown. I want to get an early start on a couple of things for next week.”
“Are you kidding?”
A thin smile surfaced. “See you Monday.”
I had no idea what was going on with him, and it occurred to me that Charlie might even be headed for the bars again to forget his troubles. If that was the case, he was old enough to know better, and I decided it wasn’t worth worrying about.
I finished my paperwork a little after four when I happened to see Jessica Barlow heading for her workstation. I had the impression she’d had a long day as I watched her settle in and begin sifting through a mountain of paperwork in her in-basket.
I took a deep breath and gave Bernie the stay command. “If she bites, come over and bite her back,” I said.
I tried to steady my nerves as I walked over to her desk. “Mind if I take a seat for a moment?” I asked.
Jessica’s beady eyes, heavily shadowed in hues of blue and green, regarded me. “What for?”
I sat down. “I just wanted to talk, try and clear the air.”
“Don’t tell me, your partner put you up to this.”
I shook my head. “This has nothing to do with him.” I took a breath. “I actually want to try and make amends.”
The skin on her shiny brow drew tighter. “What are you talking about?”
I told her about the tea Nana was planning. “It’s Sunday afternoon at her estate. There should be several influential people there. She thought you might want to stop by.”
“Why on earth would she want me there? I hardly know her.”
I shrugged. “I think she knows things haven’t gone well for you and Charlie in the past.”
“I heard she’s the one who paid off his gambling debts.”
I nodded. “She had no idea it would impact your marriage plans. What do you say about the tea?”
She sighed, dragging a hand through her shaggy do. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of trick?”
I chuckled, feeling only a tinge of guilt surfacing. “Don’t be silly.” I rose. “See you at Nana’s on Sunday. I think it will be worth your while to stop by.”
I walked away, remembering Jessica was the same woman who had filed hostile work environment claims against me in the past, not to mention that she’d made my life miserable since high school. My earlier guilt drifted away, replaced by images of her and Boris together. Sometimes revenge can be sweet, and is spelled w-e-r-e-w-o-l-f.
TWENTY-FOUR
I dropped Bernie off with Natalie and Mo and got to Katsuya’s Restaurant a little after six. Cynthia and Mel arrived shortly thereafter, and we all ordered drinks.
“I can really use this,” Mel said, sipping her martini. “It’s been the week from hell.”
Cynthia put her drink down. “Kate told me you’ve been getting some threats.”
“I didn’t tell her about the note that was left,” I said to Mel.
Cynthia’s dark brows lifted as Mel told her about the note left on her windshield. “It was similar to the phone calls, but it feels a lot more personal. I get the feeling I’m being watched.”
“Is there anyone you can stay with for a few days?” I asked. “It might do you some good to get away.”
Mel sighed, brushed her bangs back. “I suppose I could stay with my sister in Santa Barbara.” She twisted the stem of her glass between her fingers. “But it feels a little like I’m running away. I don’t like being manipulated.”
“I think it’s a matter of self-preservation,” Cynthia said. “Kate’s right. It might do you some good to get away, maybe take a week off. When you get back, the DA should have made a decision about filing charges.”
Mel lifted her drink again. “There’s always the chance that will raise the stakes.”
“Or Dunbar and his associates will get the message,” I said. “I think it’s a good idea to take a week off and try to forget things.”
“I’ll text my lieutenant and ask him, but I’m not sure if he’ll go for it. The workload’s a little crazy right now.”
We spent the next hour chatting about work while savoring the establishment’s delicious offerings. We were each on our second drink when Cynthia mentioned the Bratton case. “Rumor has it your media relations is going to hold a press conference next week, closing the case, and Carmen Todd will go down for the murders.”
“I can’t officially comment,” I said, “but that’s a possibility.” It occurred to me that Cynthia and Carmen Todd were in the same profession, although Todd had a law degree. “Did you know Ms. Todd?”
“We met a couple of times. She was very driven. Despite her looks and reputation, I think she only wanted the best for her clients.”
“Someone said she had it in for corporations that violated people’s rights,” Mel said.
Cynthia sipped her drink. “She won millions in awards from the auto industry for faulty design and air bag injuries. I heard she was planning to announce another lawsuit next week.”
“Any idea who she was going to sue?” I asked.
“There’s a multinational agricultural company called Agrasom. According to the scuttlebutt, they genetically modified some of their wheat and other products sold in third world countries to be insecticide resistant. The only problem is, according to Todd and some industry insiders, the result is that some of what they produce is said to be carcinogenic, causing the deaths of hundreds of children in those countries.”
***
I got home a little after nine and stopped by to pick Bernie up from my friends. That was a big mistake. Tex and Howie were there, demonstrating their prototype version of the Twerk Two.
“The latest version is perfectly safe,” Tex assured me and my friends when we gave him a wide berth.
Bernie stood next to me, eyeballing the nearly foot-long device. Maybe it was my imagination, but he appeared to take a couple steps back as he studied it.
“However, we should point out that it can be used as a stun gun,” Howie said with a demented laugh. His features were contorted tonight, and his hair was slicked back. Something about him reminded me of a killer I’d once encountered.
“I can vouch for it being safe,” Natalie said. “Unless multiple orgasms are bad for your health.”
“Maybe I should get me one of them, since Larry’s history,” Mo said. She looked at me, raising her thick brows.
I shook my head. “I saw the damage it did last time. There’s no way...” I looked at Tex and Howie, who were smiling. “...never mind.”
“Would you like a demonstration?” Tex asked.
Before anyone could answer, he pushed a couple buttons on the device, and
the blender in the kitchen turned on.
While Natalie went over to tend to the blender, Tex said, “The Twerk Two acts as a multi-functional remote control. It can activate any device within a range of fifty yards.” He worked the buttons again and the TV came on, along with a radio, then the overhead lights began flickering.
Howie grabbed the device out of Tex’s hands. “You’ve just seen some of the basic functions. Where the Twerk Two really comes in handy is making someone act in ways you least expect.” He pointed the device at me and I instinctively took a step back.
“I’m not barking like a dog, if that’s what you have in mind,” I said. “And could you please point that thing in another direction?”
Howie’s demented laugh returned, and he said to Tex, “Should I tell her what’s going to happen, or let her see for herself?”
“It’s better not to tip her off. She might try to suppress it.”
“Suppress what?” I demanded.
Tex took the device from Howie. “We’ve got to be going. The lottery drawing will be over five hundred million tomorrow night and we’re taking the Twerk Two when we buy our tickets.”
“We’re going to be filthy rich,” Howie said with a crazy laugh.
When they were gone, I said to my friends, “I think those two could be charged with possession of a dangerous weapon.”
“I can’t disagree,” Mo said. “They might blow up the lotto machine.”
Natalie came over with drinks. “I call these Nitros, but don’t let the name fool ya. They go down like warm milk.”
Natalie’s “milk” tasted like a piña colada; fruity, with a combination of pineapple and coconut.
“I might need another one of these,” Mo said, smacking her lips after tasting the concoction. “And a trip to Hawaii.”
“That’s a great idea,” Natalie said. “What do you say we all take a trip to the islands?”
I thought about what Brie Henner had said a few days earlier. “It sounds wonderful, but I’m not sure a vacation is possible right now, given my work schedule.”
“Still working on the Bratton case?” Mo asked as Natalie went over to pour us more drinks.
