by Anna Burke
“Oh, it was wonderful. The happiest time of my life.”
Jessica had been unable to contain her excitement and blurted out a string of impertinent questions.
“So who was he? Where is he now? Why aren’t you married? Didn’t you want to have a child like me?” Bernadette made the sign of the cross and spoke nearly in a whisper.
“His name was Guillermo and we were married, but for only a short time. He was very handsome and a very kind husband. He was so handsome and so kind, in fact, that God called him to heaven when he was just barely a man.” Jessica was horrified and tried to tell her how sorry she was to pry into her past.
“Jessica, it’s okay. I was sad and angry but then God brought me to you and your mother. So you see? I do have a child, not just like you, but exactly and actually you.”
With that Jessica had hurled herself into Bernadette’s arms and was rewarded with a mighty hug. Remembering that moment now, Jessica stepped down from her perch on the bar stool and wrapped her arms around Bernadette.
“You do know I love you, don’t you?” Jessica asked.
“Claro que si! Of course, Jessica. I love you too, mi dulce princesa,” she said. She beamed at Jessica and gave her a peck on the cheek. The taint of the day’s tragic events, along with the remorse Jessica felt about her excesses and inadequacies, receded in the wake of that simple meal shared with a loved one. Jessica was transfixed by the transformative power of that moment. She would be okay. Laura would be okay.
CHAPTER 6
Jessica spruced up the kitchen, said goodnight to Bernadette then, headed to her bedroom. It was too late to tackle the maelstrom in her walk-in closet but she should take a crack at organizing her thoughts about Laura’s situation. It might even be wise to hatch a plan of some kind about how best to use the time she had before her meeting with Paul on Tuesday. Given his high opinion of her, she felt compelled to impress him. She’d settle for not making a total ass out of herself.
Jessica retrieved her laptop computer from the desk in her room, and propped herself up on the bed to work. She created a file in which she made notes about all she had learned from Laura about the events surrounding Roger’s death. That didn’t take long, given how little she knew. Still it felt good to document what she could remember about Laura’s story. She put together a timeline as best she could noting the last time Laura had seen Roger alive, the time she called to leave him a message, and when she arrived back at her home that morning. Jessica made a guess at when Laura might have arrived and departed from Eric-the-waiter’s apartment. She also outlined the sequence of events that followed Laura’s horrific discovery of her dead husband. That included the call to 911 for EMTs, police, the hospital and more police. Then her call to Sara and the return home to her sister’s house where she called Jessica for help.
Jessica had pitifully little to go on when it came to figuring out how to proceed. Two things were most pressing. First, figuring out where the authorities were in their investigation, including how they were looking at Laura. Was she a witness, person of interest, or a suspect?
Of course, all of that could turn on a dime, unless they had an eyewitness who saw someone other than Laura at the house. Or they came upon a lead that pointed them away from Laura and toward someone else. One of the questions the police had asked Laura was whether Roger had any enemies. The question had floored Laura who couldn’t even grasp what they were asking. Roger, her Roger? It was incomprehensible. He had an occasional conflict with a client or subcontractor but she had never considered them enemies. And yet he was dead, murdered in his own home. Who could have hated him enough to kill him?
Laura believed the police had immediately begun to canvass the neighborhood. There should be information from interviews conducted with Laura’s neighbors. Perhaps, one of the nearby residents had seen or heard something that dreadful night, or morning, depending on when Roger was actually killed.
Jessica would make the rounds herself, knocking on doors to see what she could turn up. She especially wanted to have a conversation with the neighbors who had filed complaints about the fighting between Laura and Roger. They seemed to have an ear to the ground, so-to-speak. Maybe Jessica would learn something useful. It also couldn’t hurt to size them up as potential witnesses. Perhaps, for the prosecution, if this case ever went to trial with Laura as the accused.
What Jessica really needed to know right away was the name of the investigating officer to whom the case had been assigned. Cathedral City, like most cities in California and elsewhere, was having financial problems. Layoff notices were planned for both police and firefighters, so it was hard to guess how assignments were being made these days. In fact, Jessica had to admit she wasn’t even sure if the “Cat City” police had jurisdiction in this case. It might require a little snooping even to figure that out.
She made a note to start by calling Tommy’s uncle Don. He’d know how to cut through all the red tape and find out what was going on. He could be a hard ass about rules, but he had known Laura for years. That might soften his heart enough that he would help out by asking a few questions of his colleagues.
Jessica would also stop by Laura’s house as she had promised. Visiting a crime scene was not something she imagined doing while hiding out in the desert from her owned shattered dreams. It would take some fortitude given how gruesome it sounded after talking to Laura, but a promise is a promise. Laura kept a spare key near the front door so Jessica would have no trouble letting herself in as long as the police had completed their investigation.
Jessica made a list of the things she and Laura needed from the house if the police had not removed them. In addition to his laptop and the important papers Laura had mentioned, Jessica wanted to pick up any mail delivered on Friday or Saturday, their checkbooks, receipts, invoices for work done in the last few months; contracts, fulfilled or unfulfilled, and Roger’s calendar, presuming he kept one. Laura would have to go through all of these items to square things away with Roger’s business, to make funeral arrangements, pay bills and collect on Roger’s life insurance policy.
Jessica wanted to give her a head start by gathering and organizing all of the documents and materials she could find. There was always a chance something in his business dealings might provide a hint about his death. Jessica would also take a look at the contents of Roger’s laptop computer if it was there. Laura had made her best guess about what he used as a password.
Somebody would have to have the place cleaned before Laura, or anyone else, for that matter, could live there. She could help by finding someone to do the clean up as soon as possible. In the meantime, Jessica hoped the police had left the air conditioning on. In the desert heat the scene would get rife quickly. She checked the list to be sure she wouldn’t miss anything. The thought of going back to the house a second time was as unappealing as making a trip there in the first place.
It also made sense to do what she could to find this guy Eric. She didn’t have a lot to go on. Eric had taken Laura to an apartment on Avenida Caballeros, from which the Villa Caballeros complex took its name. The location was not too far from the downtown Palm Springs restaurant where they had eaten dinner and where Eric worked as a waiter. Laura couldn’t remember the apartment number but had given Jessica a pretty good description of its location in the complex. It was close to the parking lot, on the first floor, just a few feet from the community pool. Laura couldn’t recall Eric’s last name. That fact had set off another bout of shame and embarrassment but she promised to think about it. They did know where Eric worked so Jessica might be able to get a last name from his employer. Or maybe Tommy or Brien knew who he was.
Laura had taken a cab home the next morning. The cab company should have some kind of record revealing when and where they picked Laura up. Laura paid by credit card so the credit card company should be able to provide information about the date and time of the transaction, too. That might be quicker even than trying to locate the cab company info. Jes
sica felt satisfied she had a number of strategies to verify Laura’s movements, bolstering her claim that she was elsewhere when Roger was murdered.
She had a lot to do between now and her Tuesday lunch. Jessica’s mind wandered back again to her phone call from Paul Worthington. She wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that he remembered her so clearly. What about that article? She hadn’t thought about that in years.
An image of Paul from law school floated back to her. Tall, light-brown hair and striking blue eyes, always meticulously groomed and dressed in expensive-looking clothes. Casually elegant was the notion that came to mind. Nothing like the Silicon Valley jeans, hoodie, and high-end tennis shoe crowd she gravitated toward.
Jessica let out a huge sigh as her mind shifted from Paul to Jim. Jim with his deep brown eyes and dark hair. She could see him standing in the kitchen, making their morning coffee in his pajama bottoms and bare feet. His hair tousled and still too sleepy to have his “game face” on. A little thrill coursed through her. Even now, as he sported bespoke suits and Italian shoes, she ached for the old Jim. The one who wanted to change the world, not own it. Jessica could feel a wave of tears heading her way and decided to call it quits for the night. It had been a long day. She got ready for bed as quickly as she could, slid between the satiny sheets. The moment her head touched the pillow, she plunged into oblivion. In her dreams she searched for someone she had lost.
CHAPTER 7
Sunday morning Jessica rolled out of bed early. Before she could think too much about it she donned a swim suit and robe, grabbed a towel and dashed into the kitchen. The house was quiet. She could hear stirring from the wing of house in which Bernadette’s room was located. Bernadette was probably getting ready for church. Getting to an early Mass on Sunday at St. Theresa’s was a treasured ritual for her. More than that, it was a “holy day of obligation” as she pointed out to Jessica too many times to count.
Jessica had been baptized and confirmed as a Catholic at St. Theresa’s where she ended up once she was kicked out of private school. Her parents were ready to ship her off to a boarding school until Bernadette intervened suggesting they try a local Catholic School instead. Somehow Bernadette had prevailed. Agnostic, though they were, the idea of Catholic school rankled against their episcopal roots.
Jessica was on board with Bernadette’s idea as soon as she discovered her parents were opposed to it. She carried that defiance with her to school, determined to make a go of it, hoping to irritate her parents further. Beneath the adolescent set of her jaw was fear she harbored at the thought of being sent away. Despite the tensions between her parents, and her conflict with them, the Coachella Valley was home. Once she got to St. Theresa’s she hit it off right away with Kelly and Laura and a couple other girls. They were Catholic so she became a Catholic.
Moved more by the need to fit in than by any strong religious feelings Jessica nevertheless found comfort in the beauty of the Mass. The ritual and repetition appealed to her anxious nature and the prospect of an omnipotent being was comforting in the face of uncertainty provoked by her parents’ divorce. Even all the rules were tolerable. They gave her a sense of being bounded when she felt out of control. She was often afraid and enraged at a world turned upside down by grown-ups who made decisions she did not understand.
Jessica went to Mass on a regular basis while in high school but drifted away once she left for college. If asked, she would assert that spirituality remained important to Jessica the college coed, but organized religion was just so rigid. “The Church” was so repressive toward women, so stuffy about sexuality. She was particularly incensed by how obsessed the patriarchal hierarchy seemed with controlling women’s bodies that she felt a little self-righteous about not going to Mass. The quagmire of abortion rights dominated discussions with many of the practicing Catholics she knew. Those conversations made it difficult to focus on things that motivated Jessica and attracted her to Catholicism. Things like concerns about justice and equality, a penchant for coming to the aid of the displaced and downtrodden, and reaching out to those who were marginalized or lost altogether.
A wave of déjà vu struck her. Here she was again contending with the disorientation of divorce, her life on tilt. In a fit of nostalgia she considered going to Mass with Bernadette. The thought of all she had to do for Laura brought her back to her senses quickly.
At least she had beat Bernadette to the punch and had first crack at making coffee. In a matter of minutes, ten to be exact, she had ground the coffee beans and put them through the French press. She poured herself a large cup and put the rest in the thermal carafe. Then she took another cup from the cupboard and filled it with coffee for Bernadette, adding milk to cool it down. She headed to Bernadette’s en suite and knocked gently on the door.
“Yes?” Bernadette asked.
“I brought you some coffee if you have time to drink it before you leave for Mass.”
Bernadette opened the door. “Bless you, niña, gracias,” she said taking the cup in both hands and sipping it cautiously. “Perfect, Jessica. You’re up early, que te pasa?”
“Oh, lots to do today, Bernadette, and I wanted to get in a swim first. What about you, do you have plans after church?”
“No, nothing today. I’ll be home in a couple hours. If you need me to do something for you or for Laura I’m glad to help. Or I could help you finish unpacking?”
Jessica gulped. “I take it you’ve seen my closet.”
“Just a peek when I was in there yesterday and had to kick those boys out,” she said with a playful glint in her eyes.
“Well, now I know your special powers include x-ray vision,” Jessica said ruefully. She tried to imagine how any normal person could see the disarray in her closet from the doorway into her room.
“I appreciate the offer, but bringing order from the chaos in that room is definitely on my list. It’s one reason I’m up so early. Drive carefully, St. Bernadette.” Jessica leaned over, smooched Bernadette on her cheek then headed back down the hall to the kitchen.
If she was serious about saving her sanity and restoring her physical stamina it was time to take the plunge, literally. Swimming had been an easy way to stay fit as she was growing up. It was something she could do year-round in the desert. The saltwater pool, heated in the winter, needed no help in the summer. Some folks even added chillers to their pools to cool it down in the summer. Early morning, the water was plenty inviting. At this hour she didn’t even need to turn on the patio misters since the desert’s low humidity made it comfortable outdoors even in the 80s or 90s.
The morning was lovely. A hint of desert potpourri was borne aloft on the morning breeze. That scent meant “home” to Jessica and was one of the many things she loved about the desert. She took comfort from the toasty mix of sunbaked mesquite, desert sage and lavender. The scent was often spiked by ornamental rosemary widely used as a decorative shrub in the area. Sometimes, especially after rain in the desert or the nearby mountains, the tangy odor of creosote flooded the world around you, a fragrance Jessica loved even though not everyone shared her approbation.
She sat down and sipped her coffee, taking in the views of the golf course and the mountains. She could see both Mt. San Jacinto and Mt. San Gorgonio, which sat on opposite sides of I-10.“The 10” to most Californians, ran between the two peaks. It marked the wind-beaten pass leading from the valley, west to L.A., all the way to the Pacific Ocean. One of the most consistently windy places on the planet the pass was host to an increasing number of wind farms. The fields of whirligigs spun, feeding southern California’s insatiable need for electricity.
She peeled an orange and ate it, savoring the sweetness of the fruit and the morning. A couple golf carts went whizzing by in the distance. Diehard devotees of the game, determined to beat the heat, could get in 18 holes before ten a.m. Time to get a move on. Before getting wet she needed to retrieve her computer and cell phone. She headed back to her room, entering through the sliders from t
he patio rather than going back through the house. She picked up the computer and phone from beside the bed and fished around in the drawer of her nightstand finding an old pair of sunglasses and a pair of swimming goggles. She had newer versions of both in her dressing room, but that would mean going in there and she wasn’t ready to face that yet this morning. She glanced over to make sure the door to the room was closed then headed back out through the sliders to the patio.
Once out on the patio she arranged her things quickly. Putting on the goggles, she did a few quick stretches then, dove head first into the warm embrace of the clear water. Almost immediately, she fell into a rhythm that propelled her toward the opposite end of the pool, doing several easy laps with short breaks. She continued to do sets of laps and pondered the work ahead, trying to quell the anxious feeling that hovered like a cloud. Picking up the pace, she concentrated on her stroke and counted laps. After about a half hour she was spent. The swim had taken the edge off the anxiety, and she definitely felt more centered and focused.
Finally, bolstered by more caffeine, she picked up the computer and set about organizing her day. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. She looked over the notes she had made the night before and decided to start with a few phone calls.
First, she called Laura to fill her in on her conversation with Paul. Less panicky than yesterday, Laura was subdued. “Numb, more than anything else” was how she put it when Jessica asked how she was doing. Jessica took the opportunity to make another plug for Paul’s firm, pitching his track record as a defense attorney.
“He agrees there’s no reason to believe you need his services at this point,” Jessica added.
Jessica reminded Laura that she intended to go to the house. If the police weren’t still at the scene warding folks off, she would go through the office and pretty much clean it out. Taking everything related to business or personal finance home with her, she would go through it all systematically.
