“Not only was Tammy a strong swimmer,” Regina said, “she was physically strong as well. I can’t believe she couldn’t have saved herself, impaired or not.”
“Regina, people have been known to drown in inches of water.”
“What about the dog?” John asked.
“And the phone threats?” Regina added.
“I must admit there does seem to be an aura of mystery surrounding this case. Beauty contestants, psychics, animal poisoning. Look, you two should contact the detectives that are working on the Lake case. If you feel there’s a connection, they’re the ones to notify. Make sure they get that cassette with the voice.”
“What if they refuse to see a connection?” John said.
“Then, should that happen, I’ll do what I can to help you if you want to carry on with your own private investigation. Sound fair?”
“More than fair,” Regina said.
John had expected as much from both Wilma and Regina. So now he had to convince Regina that she had to talk to the police without him. He knew he should tell her about his involvement with Corinne and the fact that he was a suspect in both cases, but he held back. He was attracted to her. He felt the feeling was mutual. If she knew the truth, she might turn away from him. But would that be so tragic? He felt his stomach tighten at the thought.
On the street in front of the courthouse, Regina put on her sunglasses, then scanned the block. “The police station’s not far,” she said, “shall we walk?”
“I’ll walk you down, but I won’t go in with you.”
She turned to look at him. “Why?”
“I have my reasons. I’d rather not say just yet.”
“What is going on?” Her voice betrayed exasperation. “Are you running from the law? Is that it?”
“I’m not running from the law. They know where to find me if they want me.”
“Then what? What is it?”
He turned and started to walk in the opposite direction.
“John,” she called out.
He stopped, but didn’t turn.
She came around to stand in front of him. “Damnit, you dragged me into this and I can’t do it alone.”
He stared at her a long moment before looking away.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll do it your way--for now. But I’m going to want some answers soon.”
“Deal.”
She sighed, thrust the car keys at him, and said, “I’ll meet you at the car in an hour.” Then she walked away, her strides long and smooth.
Regina told Detective Lillard everything she and John had told Wilma, only she didn’t mention John. She showed the detective the fingernail and produced the cassette, explaining that she assumed it was a threat.
He sat at his desk facing her, his legs parted, the cassette in one hand and the plastic bag with the fingernail in the other. He looked curiously at first one and then the other.
“Are you going to listen to it?” she asked, nodding at the cassette.
He swiveled around to a small tape recorder on the desk and fitted the tape into the machine. He pressed a button. There was a beep, a dial tone, and then a recorded voice intoned, “We’re sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number and dial again.”
She sat straight up. “Rewind it.”
He rewound the tape, pressed play again. The same message repeated.
Stunned, Regina could only slump back in the chair. “How?” she whispered. “It was erased. But how? It was there, damnit.”
“What did it say?” the detective asked.
She struggled to think clearly. “The prettiest shall be last. Who’—no—’which one is the prettiest?’”
“You say it was somehow erased?”
She nodded. It was coming back to her now. The two calls in the middle of the night.
“Who’s the prettiest?”
“What?” She brought her attention back. “Oh, I think what he —or she —was referring to would be the finalists, there are only two of us left. Amelia Corde and me.”
“So who’s the prettiest?”
“Excuse me?”
His brow furrowed. “Isn’t Amelia Corde the raven-haired siren with the blood-red lips and steely eyes?”
Regina wanted to laugh, his description was so clichéd, yet so apt. “That’s the one.”
He popped the cassette out of the recorder, handed it to her. “You’re prettier.”
Regina said nothing. There was no comfort in knowing she would be last on this maniac’s list.
“How’d you know the Kowalski’s dog was poisoned?” he asked.
“I called the animal hospital and was told by the doctor on duty.”
She watched him scribble on a pad.
“She was a friend of yours, this Kowalski?”
“Yes.”
“What would you say was her state of mind prior to her death?”
“Confused. Scared. Terrified, actually.”
“Depressed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Suicidal?”
She shrugged. “She didn’t say. But I don’t think so.”
“What do you think happened that day at The Fitness Center?” His tone was soft, patient, patronizing.
“We —I ... I think she was attacked by whoever attacked Donna Lake.”
“There was no corrosive material.”
“Maybe there was. I think she had chlorine thrown in her face. It momentarily blinded her. She fell in the pool and for some reason couldn’t get back out.”
“What reason?”
“I don’t know that. Someone held her under? She panicked?”
“Why would this someone use an acid-like substance on—what was the first one’s name? Oh, yes, Corinne Odett—Odett and Lake, and then use plain ol’ chlorine on Kowalski?”
Regina bit her lower lip. This was going nowhere, she told herself. She was wasting her time.
“Mrs. Van Raven, our investigation in the Kowalski death was quite thorough. The Center was gone over with a fine tooth comb. We missed the fingernail. But even if it was hers--”
“It was.”
“ — it has little relevance to the case.”
“The dog?”
“A nuisance to the neighborhood. Barking dogs make enemies and are silenced in cruel ways.”
Regina thought she knew better. But what did she have? A cassette tape without a threat. A psychic’s vision. The gut feeling of a man whose own evasiveness was somewhat suspect.
“I hear you took over the ‘City Gallery’ show.”
“Temporarily.”
“I bet the publicity hasn’t hurt the ratings none. Saturday’s program with the psychic claiming to be tuned in to the drowning of Miss Kowalski went over pretty big, huh? And this on the heels of Miss Lake’s well-publicized attack.”
With his implication utterly clear, she stood, took the bag from his hand, and stuffed both bag and cassette back into her purse.
“This doesn’t mean we won’t continue to investigate the Lake case,” he said.
“What about Tammy’s case?” she asked flatly.
“You bring me something solid indicating foul play and I’ll be happy to hear you out.”
He said something else, but his words were lost to her as she marched through the door and out of the detective division.
“It was erased,” Regina told John as they climbed into the car.
“The tape?”
“Yes.” She started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
“How?”
“I’m so dumb,” she said, hitting the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. “I should’ve taken the tape out of the machine last night. It never occurred to me that another call would come in the middle of the night and erase the message.”
“What happened?”
She told him about the two calls.
“Don’t blame yourself, Regina. You were upset. I should have thought to remove the tape.” Joh
n turned to her. “You say you heard the warning message repeated before it was erased?”
“I think so.” Then it dawned on her what he was asking. “My God, the only way I could have heard his message first was if he used my code number to retrieve it from the tape. How would he know my code?”
“He’d make it his business to know everything he could about you and the others.”
Regina felt a heaviness bearing down on her.
“Forget it for now. What did Lillard say?”
As they drove through the midmorning traffic, she related the conversation with the detective. “He practically accused me of fabricating the whole thing for the damned publicity.”
John’s only response was a slow shake of the head.
When she pulled to the curb at the TV station, John looked at her quizzically.
“You wanted the list of the pageant contestants. It’s in a file in my desk.”
John nodded.
In the rearview mirror Regina saw a dark blue Mercedes pull up behind her. She recognized the driver.
Amelia. She hadn’t wasted any time, Regina thought. To John she said, “Amelia Corde just pulled in behind us.”
“Would she be coming to see you?”
“I doubt it, I’d say she’s come to see Nolan about a job.”
“She has the look of a predator,” he said. “A look I remember well. She’s coming now.”
Regina heard a car door close and then heels clicking off into the distance.
“I’ll check Nolan’s office. Maybe I can catch some of what they’re saying.”
She went into the building, picked up her messages at the main desk, and hurried back to the production department.
Nolan’s office was the cubicle he shared with Donna. There was no one inside.
Regina went through the files in her desk, looking around as she pulled out the Miss Classic file. With the folder under her arm, she strolled through the department, peeking in other offices.
The door to Max’s office was closed, which was odd because it was rarely closed, even when he was out.
She lifted the phone and buzzed the receptionist.
“Suzie, is Max in?” Regina asked.
“Sorry, Regina, he left for lunch about ten minutes ago.”
“Is Nolan here?”
“Yes, someone just came in to see him.”
Ten to one, she told herself, Nolan and Amelia were behind that closed door. Oh, to be a fly on the wall.
“I could kill him easily,” a voice behind her said, making her stiffen. Regina turned to see Tom Gansing standing at her desk, his hands made into tight fists. “It’s only been a couple of weeks and already the bastard is scouting for a replacement.”
She could think of nothing to say. Tom rarely showed impatience and never anger. This was so unlike him.
“He doesn’t deserve her. Donna was always too good for him. But he does deserve that one.” His chin jerked up in the direction of Max’s office.
Regina laid a consoling hand on Tom’s arm.
With a look of chagrin, he said, “I’m sorry, Regina. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. Forget I said anything.” And with that he turned and walked away.
“I’m for you all the way, Amelia,” Nolan said. “Regina has her special skills, but hostess, and live for crissakes, is not one of them.”
They sat on the leather sofa in Max’s office.
“Who, aside from Regina, would oppose my filling in for your wife?”
“Well my wife for one. But don’t concern yourself, I have control in that department. Max is the other. Regina is sleeping with him so that could be a problem.”
The corners of Amelia’s lips curled up. She saw no problem there. Only when someone was beyond sexual manipulation was there a problem.
“I’ll take care of Max,” she said in a deep, self-assured tone. She saw something flash into Nolan’s eyes. Caution. Wariness. She had to be careful. He was looking for another stooge to lead around. The reason he wanted Regina out was because she couldn’t be led. There was plenty of time after she got the job to rebel and pull the rug out from under him if he became difficult.
Her voice softened, became submissive. She placed a caressing hand on his thigh. “If you could just endorse me, then set up a meeting for the two of us, I think I can help persuade your boss.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he smiled.
John looked over the list of Miss Classic contestants as Regina drove toward Daly City.
“Twenty-eight women made the initial lineup,” he said, reading. “This was cut to ten, and finally four runners-up and the winner. How many days did the pageant run?”
“One week. Because there was no talent competition, we could only parade around in various stages of dress and undress for so long.” She turned to him. “Don’t you remember? You covered the contest for the newspaper.”
“It was a long time ago,” he said, looking out the passenger window, avoiding her eyes.
“What paper?”
“The Chronicle,” he said without hesitation, and hoped to God the Chronicle had assigned someone that piece. She would know.
As he slid the list back into the folder a pink message slip fell out. “What’s this?” He held it up.
“I picked that up at the station this morning. What’s it say? I didn’t have time to read it.”
“It says, ‘Someone with an alibi is lying.’”
“Who is it from?”
“It doesn’t say.”
“Odd.” After a moment’s silence, she said reflectively, “Last night a woman called and said there was a dangerous person who had killed and would kill again. She added something that didn’t make any sense. I thought it was a crank. I don’t know if I can remember what she said.”
“Try,” John said.
“Something about an ocean. An ocean will lead to the killer. No, not ocean. Sea. Yes. A sea will lead to the killer.”
“That’s it?”
“There was something else. Ultimately, a sea—no, wait —Initially, a sea will lead to the assailant. That was it.”
John wrote it on the back of the pink message slip. “We’ll go over this later.”
She looked back to the road. “Tammy’s house is right up here.” She turned right, then made a left on the first street and pulled up to the second house from the corner.
“Have the cops been out here?” he asked.
“They were out the night the dog died. But that was the Daly City police. I don’t know if any came out after her death.”
“Probably not, since she died in the city and they were quick to rule out homicide,” he said. “Where two jurisdictions are involved, one hand rarely seems to know what the other hand is doing.”
They walked up the driveway to the front door. John rang the bell.
After several minutes he strolled around to the side of the house. He opened the wooden gate and stepped through. Standing just inside the yard, he paused to take in the scene. He heard Regina come up behind him.
“Tell me what you remember about that night. Where was the dog?”
“On the patio.”
Scrutinizing the ground in front of each footstep, John slowly walked to the edge of the concrete slab. About two feet in he saw a foamy substance resembling hardened egg whites tinged with what looked like blood. He pointed at it. “There?”
“I think so.”
He scanned the ten-by-fifteen-foot patio. In the center he saw something dark. Flies crawled over it. He walked to it, bent down in a crouch, and stared.
It was dried meat. Bits of raw ground beef that had stuck to the rough cement. He looked around. The fence was about twenty feet away,
John walked back to the gate. At the top he saw fresh scratch marks in the weathered wood.
“What is it?” Regina asked.
“The dog got pretty excited about something. Whoever poisoned him must have stood here. See the gouges? And then tossed
the hamburger—probably a ball of meat with the poison inside—on to the patio. Big dogs aren’t known to be finicky eaters.”
“Then Tammy was right,” Regina said. “He wanted her to come out in the open. He could have dropped the poison right here, but he wanted to make sure Tammy saw the dog and felt its suffering.”
John opened the gate and went out between the two houses. The narrow space comprised a concrete walkway and grass. He dropped his gaze to the ground and began scanning outward.
Trapped in the corner, where the house and fence met in a right angle, was a pile of windblown debris, leaves, twigs and bits of paper. John bent down and, with a twig, poked through the litter. A piece of white paper caught his eye. He worked it out and picked it up by the two edges.
Regina had crouched down beside him, watching.
“What’s that look like to you?” he asked.
She leaned in closer. “A tab —no, wait—tape. Butcher tape?”
“Umm.” He held it up. “Can you make that out?”
There was something printed on the tape in blue, but most of it had been torn away. Regina studied it, turning her head this way and that. “It looks like an emblem of some kind ... a sun, or ... ” she shook her head, “I don’t know, John, I can’t tell.”
“We’ll find out. Do you have something to put this in?”
Regina reached into her purse, brought out an appointment book, and opened it. John dropped it between the pages. She carefully put it back in her purse. “It could have been there a long time.”
“It’s not weathered. It hasn’t been there long.”
John looked up. Over the top of the connecting fence to house on the left he saw gray hair and a pair of pale blue, watery eyes. The head disappeared.
“Hello,” John said, moving to the fence. “Sir?”
The head came up again, slowly. A tiny man in his early seventies, with a pair of eyeglasses pushed up through his sparse, yellow-gray hair, glared at him, eyes squinted.
“Afternoon, sir. We’re from the Humane Society and we’re investigating the death of Mrs. Kowalski’s dog.”
The limpid eyes, filled with suspicion, went from John to Regina and back to John.
“Mrs. Kowalski’s dead too. What’s the big deal about the dog?”
Night Hunter Page 22
