by M. Z. Kelly
“It’s worth keeping in mind,” Olivia said, her gaze going over to the police unit where Weston’s wife had been taken. “Anything noteworthy on the wife?”
“I talked to Barry Goldman, he’s Weston’s business partner. He said Weston and his wife separated a couple months ago, but they were in marriage counseling.” Woody looked over at the police car where the victim’s wife had been taken. “When she regains some control, we’re going to need her statement.”
Tina Weston had blonde hair and was attractive, but a little on the heavy side. I said to Olivia, “Do you think it’s remotely possible that she had something to do with what happened?”
“She hires someone to kill her husband, then shows up acting like she’s distraught?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
Olivia’s brows went up. “It’s something to keep in mind when we talk to her and get her alibi.”
We spent the rest of the night working with SID and the coroner’s office, processing the scene. A deputy coroner I’d never met before didn’t offer much that was helpful. The crime scene technicians had taken samples of the blood that was on the fence, something that I asked Kathy Maitland about as we finished up.
“The blood type is different than our victim’s, so it likely belongs to the suspect. Unfortunately, the sample was smeared and we weren’t able to lift any prints.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a DNA match somewhere in the system.”
Kathy gave me a half-smile. “Lately, I’m not feeling very lucky.”
I returned her smile. “Anything new on Peters?”
She shook her head. “What did I just say about luck?”
I was about to have Leo drive me home when I saw a familiar face in the street behind the crime scene tape. I went over and said hello to Cynthia McFadden.
“I don’t suppose you can tell me anything about what happened here,” Cynthia said.
“I’m sure Media Relations will release something shortly.”
The reporter, who was slender and pretty, smiled at me. “How about you let me buy you a cup of coffee? I promise I won’t grill you.”
I swept my messy hair out of my eyes. “I’m game if you can drop me at home afterward.”
Ten minutes later, after Cynthia and I took seats in a booth at the Denny’s on Sunset, she said to me, “I’ll bet you’re running on fumes.”
I sipped my coffee, set the cup down. “Even my fumes are on fumes.” I saw that she was looking at her phone. “Anything interesting?”
“Your department just released the victim’s name in what the press is already calling the ‘Wonderland murder’. They gave some brief details, saying the investigation is ongoing.”
“That’s about as much as we have, so far.”
She put her phone away. “I wanted to get together so we could talk about Mel.”
“I can’t...”
“I know. I’m not asking for any details, and what we discuss here is off the record. You know that she was my friend and I just want to help.”
I studied her for a moment. “You’re sure this is off the record.”
“Absolutely. I’m just...” She took a breath, pushing down her emotions. “I can’t believe Dunbar is going to walk.”
“With Mel gone and the other victims recanting their prior statements about being raped, it looks that way.”
She shook her head. “It’s so wrong.”
I agreed with her before the waitress came over with coffee. When she was gone, I said, “Off the record. I need to ask you something.”
“Of course.”
“Did Mel ever mention to you that she had an illness?”
She shook her head. “Her health seemed fine to me, except for being emotionally distraught because of Dunbar.”
“The coroner got her medical records. Mel had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She probably only had a few months to live when she died.”
Cynthia was quiet for a moment. She finally said, “I had no idea.”
“There was something else happening to her in the weeks before her murder. She was seeing men, lots of men.”
“I know that she had a boyfriend.”
“These were hookups with guys she met on Internet sites. One night stands.”
“Wow. I had no idea.”
“One of the detectives on the case thinks she might have been seeing men because she knew she was dying. It might have been her way of still feeling...for lack of a better word, alive.”
Cynthia took some time, apparently still processing what I’d said. “I suppose that’s possible. It’s just...it just doesn’t seem like the woman I knew.”
“I had the same thought, but, then again, I haven’t been given a terminal diagnosis.”
We discussed what I’d told her for a couple minutes before Cynthia asked, “Do you think Dunbar is behind what happened to her?”
“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. Dunbar had a motive, but...”
“But it doesn’t add up for someone under indictment for rape to kill his principal victim.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“Unless Dunbar hired someone.”
“Maybe.” I suppressed a yawn. “We have lots of work ahead of us.”
“I don’t think you should give up on Dunbar as the prime suspect.”
“Oh, believe me, we haven’t.”
Cynthia sipped her coffee, then changed the subject. “I heard you had a visitor a couple nights ago.”
I brushed my hair back. “Word gets around.”
“Rumor has it that Harlee Ryland might be related to you.”
“It’s just a rumor, and I would appreciate you not spreading it.”
She held on my eyes. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“Thank you.” Cynthia knew all about my family history, but I took a moment, trying to decide how much to tell her. I finally said, “One way or another, I’m going to get to the bottom of those responsible for my adoptive father’s murder and the disappearance of my bio-dad.”
Cynthia reached over and touched my hand. “Just remember, if you need anything, I’m here as a friend, not a reporter.”
SEVENTEEN
Cynthia dropped me at home so I could shower, change, and pick up my car before heading back to the station. I fed Bernie and was having a bowl of cereal when my friends showed up.
“I’ve only got a couple minutes before going back to work,” I said as I let them inside.
“That Wonderland murder case is all over the news,” Natalie said. “Word has it the guy nearly had his head lopped off by some prossie.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking to at the station, but I can’t discuss it.”
Mo came over to me while Natalie played with Bernie. “I’d be careful if I was you. Word has it you’re dealing with a real mondo bizarro.”
“Mondo what?”
Natalie gave up on the doggy play. “You got a ridonkulousaurus on your hands, somebody who’s a bunch of neurons short of a Golden Globe.”
I went back to my cereal. “Maybe. I think it’s too soon to say.”
They went on, spinning various theories about the suspect, before Natalie changed the subject. “Mo and me wanna run our million dollar idea past you before somebody else steals our thunder and makes a wad of loot.”
I massaged my temples, feeling a headache surfacing, knowing it was useless to claim I was too tired to listen. “What is it?”
“Ask Dr. Doris.”
“I don’t know a Dr. Doris.”
“That’s ‘cause you ain’t getting any,” Mo said. “Baby sis and me are gonna develop a website with one of them avatars who’s a virtual sexpert. Dr. Doris is gonna be the world’s first all-sex, all-the-time website for all things ‘bout sex.”
“Not only that,” Natalie said, clapping her hands. “Tex has invented a love-drug for women usin’ a bunch of them Chinese roots.”
“She means herbs,” Mo said.
/> “He’s callin’ the stuff LULT.”
My headache was in full swing now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It stands for Love U Long Time. He’s working with a chemist named Dr. Jong. They should have it ready for clinical trials in the next week. That’s where you come in.”
I laughed. “Really? I’m not even...I’m not...I’m in dry dock, just like Mo said.”
“We know your vajayjay’s like somethin’ the Titanic struck. We just need a model for our Dr. Doris.”
“Me and baby sis need to take some pictures of you, so you can become our sex avatar.”
I laughed again, even as my head continued to pound. “I think you’ve both finally gone off the deep end. The last thing I’m going to do is become Dr. Doris, your sex avatar.”
I took my bowl to the sink as Natalie followed me. “Just give it some thought. Maybe we can talk ‘bout it tomorrow during our move.”
I groaned. “I forgot all about us moving. I don’t have anything else packed.”
“Me and baby sis can help you out,” Mo said. “We can pack your stuff while you’re at work today.”
It was against my better judgment, but I didn’t see any other options. “I appreciate that. I don’t really have much, anyway.” I got Bernie on his leash. “I’ve got to be going.”
Natalie called out to me as I opened the door. “There goes Dr. Doris. The world’s foremost expert on sex.”
I turned back to her and Mo and saw they both had wide grins. I decided that my life was some strange time warp where the rules of logic don’t apply.
***
On my way into the station, I remembered that Olivia wanted me to stop by Reginald Dunbar’s house and confirm his alibi with his wife. After texting the lieutenant and telling her my plans, I made the half hour drive to Pacific Palisades.
I popped a couple pain relievers for my headache, then got Bernie out of the back seat. Maybe I was delirious from lack of sleep, but I said to him, “From now on, you can just call me Dr. Doris.”
I was still chuckling, feeling a little giddy, as I rang the Dunbars’ doorbell. I was grateful when the housekeeper came to the door instead of my former chief.
“I’d like to speak with Mrs. Dunbar,” I said, showing her my credentials. “It will just take a moment.”
The housekeeper excused herself, and a couple minutes later an older woman came to the door. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but Dunbar’s wife looked like she was in her late fifties. She had dark hair, fading to gray, and wore no makeup. I’d seen other women who had given up on taking care of themselves, and I had the impression that was the case with her.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, showing her my credentials. After a brief introduction, I learned her name was Monica. “I just need to have a very brief conversation with you, if you have a moment.”
She looked back toward the interior of the house, then said, “What’s this about?”
“Your husband was...” I took a breath. “It’s about your husband’s whereabouts a couple days ago. May I come in for a moment?”
She looked into the residence again, but then opened the door wider. “I guess so.”
We took seats in the living room, rather than the great room where I’d met with her husband previously. I saw there were photographs of the Dunbars when they were younger. Monica Dunbar had been an attractive woman at one time. There were several pictures that appeared to have been taken on family vacations, a couple that were taken with a young man who I thought might be their son.
“What can I do for you?” Monica Dunbar asked after I complimented her on her home and we made some small talk over Bernie.
“As you know, one of your husband’s former detectives, a woman named Melvina Peters, was killed recently. We need to establish...”
“You think she and Reggie were involved, don’t you?”
I saw that her eyes had misted over. I sensed that maybe she wanted to unburden herself and played that hunch. “What can you tell me about them?”
“It’s over.” Her watery gaze found me. “I don’t think he killed her.”
I studied her for a moment, thinking there was more on her mind. “There were other women, weren’t there?”
Tears were on her cheeks as she nodded. “Reggie has a problem.”
I lowered my voice. “Can you tell me about it?”
“It’s an addiction...”
When she didn’t go on, I asked her for the names of the other women her husband had been involved with, but she said she couldn’t remember. I then decided to concentrate on his alibi. “Can you tell me for a fact that your husband was here at your home the day before yesterday when Ms. Peters was killed? It would have been sometime between two and five in the afternoon.”
She nodded. “I think so. He left around three to meet with someone...I’m sorry.” She took a breath. “My memory isn’t what it was. I forget his name.”
“Mr. Livingston?”
“Yes, that’s it. I think he’s going to work for him.”
As Monica Dunbar’s gaze moved off, I wondered if she might be in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. She seemed distracted, unsure of herself, and our conversation was disjointed.
Given her state of mind, I decided I had nothing to lose by probing what she knew about the intimidation Mel had suffered before her murder. “What can you tell me about threats made to Ms. Peters that she shouldn’t testify against your husband?”
She looked at me blankly. “Who are you?”
“Detective Sexton. I worked with your husband.”
Her voice took on an accusatory tone. “You’re one of those women Reggie slept with.”
“No. I think you’re confused...”
“My husband is a cheater, just so you know. If you’re involved with him, I suggest...”
“What’s going on here?”
I turned and stood up as Reginald Dunbar entered the room. “I just came by because we needed to confirm your whereabouts on the day Mel...”
Dunbar’s complexion darkened, and his voice came up a notch as he cut me off. “Why didn’t you call me? You have no right to interfere with my private life and ask questions behind my back.”
Bernie had come up to his feet and was growling at my former boss.
“I’m sorry,” I said, tugging on my dog’s leash. “I was just establishing facts. I’m sure you understand it’s a necessary part of our investigation.”
Dunbar went over and opened the front door. “You need to leave. Now. If there are any further questions, you can talk to my attorney.”
I turned to his wife before leaving. “Thank you for talking to me.”
As Dunbar slammed the door behind me, I heard voices being raised from inside the residence. Dunbar and his wife were arguing and he called her a bitch. I thought about going back inside the residence, but knew I had no legal basis to do so.
When I got to the station, Olivia gathered everyone in her office, and I told them what happened. “I got the impression Dunbar’s wife might have early onset Alzheimer’s. She was clearly confused during our conversation, but also upset because of her husband’s cheating. I guess the only good news, at least from our former chief’s standpoint, is that she more or less confirmed his alibi.”
“Where are we on talking to Mel’s boyfriend?” Olivia asked.
Leo answered. “I made arrangements for us to go by Henry Moss’s art studio later this morning.”
Our boss turned to Jenny and Molly. “Anything new on the background of the men Mel was dating?”
Molly handed a packet of information to each of us. “We’ve done workups on their addresses, employment situation, and criminal histories. Most of them are employed, either full- or part-time, a couple of them working at the local studios. Two of the men had DUIs, one a petty theft. There’s nothing very remarkable about any of them.”
“If one of these guys had some kind of beef with Mel, things might have gone bad fro
m there,” Darby said. He looked at Woody. “We’re going to need to interview all of them.”
Woody agreed, but said, “That’s going to take some time.”
“Maybe so, but it’s basic police work.”
“Why don’t we divide up the list, make some calls, and see who merits a follow-up interview,” Olivia said. “In the meantime, Leo, Kate, and I can meet with Moss. Then I’d like to have another conversation with Mel’s sister.”
“Why is that?” Darby asked.
“Just a feeling I have that she might know something more than we already got.” Olivia shuffled some papers in front of her. “Let’s talk about the Wonderland case.” She looked at Leo and me. “When we’re through with Moss, let’s plan on talking to Ken Weston’s business partner...” She looked at her paperwork. “Barry Goldman. He’s with that investment firm in downtown Los Angeles.”
“If she’s in any shape to talk, we also need to talk to Weston’s wife today,” I said.
“Sounds like we’ve got a busy day,” Olivia said, looking around the room. “Anything else?”
Jenny spoke up. “There’s a convenience store near the intersection of Wonderland Drive and Laurel Canyon. Molly and I looked at Google Earth, and it looks like they have a parking lot facing the street. We were thinking it’s possible that our suspect drove by that location.”
“Jenny and I can check with the store about security cameras,” Molly offered.
Olivia gathered up her paperwork. “Do it. Let’s move on everything and meet back here at the end of the day.”
EIGHTEEN
Despite our heavy workload, Olivia had Leo stop at a Starbucks on the way to Henry Moss’s art studio. I got a latte with a triple shot of caffeine, hoping it would see me through the workday.
When we were back in the car, I mentioned tomorrow’s upcoming move to Leo and Olivia. “I don’t know if either of you have ever heard of the Craven House. Our new home is up in the Mount Olympus neighborhood, and I think it’s haunted.”
