“So she’s Princess Pat?” Cal suggested.
Mickey grinned and shook his head. “Dunno if she’s even a Lady. Prob’ly just a commoner. Rank and class are big deals to these guys.”
“How long has this affair been going on? And did Jenna know about it?”
“A few months, from what I can tell. Jenna wasn’t active on the USENET group, so she gets mentioned, but she wouldn’t have learned about it from the group…probably.”
“I wonder if she found out in real life.”
“Girls tend not to like it when you two-time them.”
“Or boys either. Is that the voice of experience?”
“Boss!” Mickey’s voice was aggrieved. “I’m not that kind of guy.”
Cal didn’t know the last time he’d had a date, if ever. Surely he’d had some kind of relationship, even if it was just a high-school fling with the acne-faced girl who sat across from him in physics, but he didn’t have any ongoing affairs that she was aware of.
Kinda like Cal herself.
“It could have sparked a fight between Jenna and Randy,” Cal said slowly. “Or it could have been Princess Pat that didn’t like the competition. She could have gone after Jenna in a jealous rage. Go medieval on her ass, like in Pulp Fiction. Eliminate the rival. Pumps eight rounds into her to be sure. Randy finds out, or he’s there when it happens, and he protects her. Gets her out of the apartment and takes the heat for something he didn’t do.”
“Yeah. Sounds about right.” Mickey took a swig from a nearly empty cola bottle.
“Is there anything in these printouts to show that Pat had a temper? Or was violent?”
“It seems like she was a fighter. You know, with swords and stuff. They have tournaments where they fight each other.”
“Not with real swords, though, right? And Jenna was killed with a forty-five. Doesn’t fit.”
“The SCA specifically only uses rattan wood weapons, but some Renfaire groups use real swords, just not sharp ones. So you supposedly can’t get hurt…not badly, anyway. Reading through this stuff,” Mickey gestured to what was up on his screen, “people definitely get hurt. Lots of bumps and bruises, a few broken bones now and again. But not stabbed. Not killed. Not like real knights.” He looked suspiciously nostalgic.
Cal gave him a nudge. “You’re not joining up with these guys, Mickey. I don’t want to hear that you’ve taken up sword fighting over the weekend.”
“It would be pretty cool.”
“No, it would not. A bunch of sweaty geeks getting together to whack each other with toy swords? That’s not cool, that’s pathetic.”
Mickey gave her hurt puppy-dog eyes. “Lots of people do this kind of thing. Not just geeks.”
“Mickey, by definition, if you do stuff like this, you’re a geek.”
“Well, one day people will see being a geek as a good thing,” he said bullishly. “Who else is going to fix the computers?”
Cal rolled her eyes. “I guess at least it would get you outside. I’ll have to upgrade your medical insurance.”
“You don’t give me medical insurance. I’m on my mom’s.”
“I know.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “Better tell her.”
Mickey had hacked the SCA’s membership list to get real names, phone numbers, and addresses for the group’s members. This had, unfortunately, not turned up a full name and address for the mysterious mistress. Mickey had suggested that maybe she was from another chapter, not the San Francisco group, or even another associated organization. The SCA was the oldest and most well known, but far from the only one.
And the SCA had kingdoms all over the world. Too many records to go through, but he could start digging in some of the nearer groups to see if Pat was from one of them. Possibly Pat was her re-enactor name, not her mundane one.
In the meantime, Cal needed a way to track Randy down. He wouldn’t be staying at the apartment, which was in Jenna’s name alone and was still a sealed crime scene. While Roubicek had undoubtedly given the police the details of where he was staying, that didn’t help Cal.
But Mickey’s research had produced phone numbers for some of Randy’s friends. Cal put them to good use, quickly tracking down Randy by phone, catching him at the house of one Spencer Rusch, knight of something-or-other-Fordshire. She invited Randy to meet her at the Pinecrest Diner, and after some cajoling, he finally agreed.
When she arrived, Cal sat down across the table from Randy. He looked around nervously, his eyes roving over the worn upholstery and wood paneling in the restaurant. Eventually, they came back to Cal.
“So, Randy.” She gave him her best, interested smile. “I know you’ve already talked to the cops, but I appreciate you agreeing to talk to me some more. I’m only trying to fill in all the details about what happened to Jenna.”
“I already told everyone what happened to Jenna.” The corners of his mouth drooped, and his eyes roved as if hoping for some escape. “There’s no need to fill in details, because I explained everything.”
“I didn’t have much time to talk to you before. This shouldn’t take long at all. Just walk me through it.”
Randy stared down at the table. Cal studied his bandaged arms.
The waitress filled their coffee cups. “Anything else?”
“I can’t eat anything,” Randy grumbled, ignoring his coffee.
Cal shook her head. “Just the coffee is fine.”
“You have a nice day, then,” the waitress said, making it sound like an imprecation for the measly tip she would no doubt get off two coffees. Cal watched her walk away.
“My stomach is off since…what happened to Jenna. I can’t eat anything.”
It had only been a day. He’d eventually get hungry, but apparently not yet. “So what were you and Jenna fighting about?”
“I don’t know. Something stupid. I don’t know how it escalated so fast.”
“Were you arguing about Alan?”
His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “Why would we be arguing about Alan?”
“Maybe because you didn’t want to have him every second week.”
“I didn’t have any problem with having Alan stay with us.”
“I have witnesses who say you fought with her about it.”
“At the start, kinda, but he settled down. It wasn’t so bad anymore. When we first got together, he was always such a pain. His behavior was off the wall; he was uncontrollable. But the last little while…”
“Maybe Jenna was upset about something you did to Alan.”
“I didn’t do anything to Alan.”
“That’s not what his father says.”
“Cruiser!” Randy puffed his cheeks out and released the air noisily. “Why would you believe him? He just wanted full custody. I never did anything to hurt Alan, and there are doctors’ reports to prove it.”
“It didn’t seem like he was lying. He says Jenna was pretty mad.”
“About Alan? What makes you think that?”
“You tell me. According to your story, she was homicidal. Came after you with a knife. That’s not mad?”
Randy’s hands clenched into fists. He looked down at his bandaged forearms.
“She was…yeah…but it wasn’t because of Alan.”
“I don’t imagine there are a lot of things that would make a girl like Jenna go berserk on you. Protecting her son, that mama bear instinct…”
“Jenna knew I wasn’t doing anything to hurt Alan.”
“Then it must have been jealousy. Your affair.”
The color drained from Randy’s already pallid face. “My affair?”
“Whatever you want to call it. Your relationship with Pat.”
Randy’s eyes went wild, looking everywhere but at Cal. “What are you talking about? Who’s Pat?”
“Your mistress. Girlfriend. Affair. Side dish. Whatever you want to call her.”
Randy scowled and relaxed slightly. “You don’t know anything.” That declaration seemed hea
rtfelt. Had Cal misjudged?
“I know her name and you were seeing her. That isn’t enough for you?”
“You’ve got your facts wrong. I already told the cops, and I already told you, I did it. No one else. I got in a fight with Jenna. She stabbed me and I…shot her.” Randy’s voice broke on the last words. He cursed and shook his head. He blinked, eyes red. “I couldn’t believe it…when I saw her there, dead on the floor…”
His emotion appeared genuine, but Cal noticed Randy’s language. Not “I killed her,” but “I saw her there, dead on the floor.”
Cal’s phone vibrated once, which meant she had received a text message. She ignored it. She wondered if it was from Thomas, but she couldn’t take her attention off Randy at such a critical juncture. “You need to tell me the truth, Randy. How can we get justice for Jenna if you won’t tell the truth?”
“I’m telling you what happened.” His words were dull and flat, like he couldn’t muster the energy to fight it anymore.
“You’re not believable,” Cal told him. She doctored her coffee with creamer and took a sip. “Those wounds on your arms didn’t come from a fight with Jenna. They’re staged.”
“You’re crazy! She attacked me. The only way to stop her was to shoot.”
“No. I don’t believe it. You can’t even tell me why she would attack you. I’m supposed to believe that you can’t remember? A simple argument between the two of you doesn’t end with you needing stitches and her up on a slab with eight holes.”
“You know what we were fighting about?” he said. “Money. Isn’t that what people always fight about? She was upset because she needed money for Alan. For his extra therapies…” he trailed off.
“And she expected you to get it for her?”
“I don’t know. Yes. She wanted me to get it for her somehow. Borrow it or…something. She didn’t care how.” He floundered a moment, and then steadied. “She said if I was a real man, I’d find a way. Said I was a wimp and a pussy, like she did sometimes. It spun out of control from there.”
“Doesn’t make sense, Randy.” If he’d said that she’d caught him gambling or stealing money from Alan’s funds, that was one thing, but it seemed like he was making things up now. According to Sergei and Cruiser, Jenna had money, so she hadn’t been asking for it. “You cut yourself. You tried to make it look like Jenna attacked you. But she didn’t.”
“I had to get stitches,” Randy protested. “I couldn’t do that to myself!”
“People do. When they’re desperate. Did you cut yourself to give yourself an excuse for killing her? Or to keep us from looking at someone else?”
“No! You’re wrong! Look at this! This isn’t made up.” Randy tore the bandage away from his right arm. He winced at the pull of the tape, his eyes tearing up. It was a far cry from the last time she had seen him, when he’d barely seemed aware of the doctor stitching him up. Cal had had stitches before, and in her experience, it was never painless. They never quite numbed the area well enough. The anesthetic didn’t go deep enough or they didn’t give it long enough to take effect before they started to stitch.
But Randy hadn’t even flinched while Dr. Ortiz stitched him up, she realized. And it had been busy that night, so it wasn’t as if Ortiz could afford to take her time. Now, he seemed dull. Had he been drinking? That wouldn’t surprise her, given the circumstances.
Randy succeeded in pulling the bandages away from one of his arms and Cal studied the wounds. Dr. Ortiz had given her a pretty good representation of the pattern, but Cal hadn’t quite grasped how deep the stabs were. Cal envisioned herself fighting with Randy. Thrusting the knife toward him repeatedly, trying to get past his guard to hit something vital. His hands should have been cut, not just his forearms. Maybe a stab wound in his shoulder or his side. Not one neat stab on each arm, plus a few slashes.
“Is Jenna right or left-handed?”
“Right.”
“So how did she stab your right arm?” Cal feinted toward him, reaching across his body to his opposite arm. Randy instinctively blocked her with the left. Then he dropped his arm and looked down at the injury on his unwrapped arm, refusing to meet her gaze. Cal stared at him. His reaction had been quick, reflexive, and possibly damning.
“You sword fight? With the SCA?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s one of the big things with the medieval reenactment guys, right? Getting to fight with swords. Showing off your skills.”
“Some people are more into it than others. It’s not the main thing for everyone. People do costuming, cooking, make beer…”
“Where and when does your group meet?”
“Different days for practice. We’ve got a Renfaire going on in Escondido this weekend. Jenna and I were both booked to participate in some shows…” He swallowed and cleared his throat.
“With all of the weaponry at the apartment I know she fought too. She wasn’t just…whatever you guys would call a woman who doesn’t fight.”
“Jenna earned her knighthood, so she was Lady Jenna. She was good. Better than some of the men, for her size.”
That made Randy’s injuries all the more puzzling. “Who cut you, Randy? Because you didn’t get those injuries in a fight with Jenna, if she really knew what she was doing. She’d have hurt you a lot worse than that with sharp steel.”
Randy looked down at his arms and did his best to re-bandage the one he’d bared. He still hadn’t touched his coffee. “I gotta go. This was a mistake.”
“I’ll find out what happened, Randy. Or the police will. Better me than them.”
He pressed his lips together and slid out of the booth. Cal wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw fear in his eyes.
Chapter Nine
When Cal got back to Molly, she finally looked at the text and saw it was from Tanner Brody, not from Thomas. It took some effort to force down her bile toward Thomas and focus on Brody. Maybe he had important news. She dialed him back.
“Hey, Tanner. Sorry for the delay. I was with a witness.”
“Randy Roubicek?”
“How did you know that?”
“Lucky guess. How’d it go?”
“He gave me a couple of things to follow up on,” Cal said, purposely vague. “What’s up?”
“I happened to hear there’s something missing from your victim’s personal effects.”
“Which is…?”
“She started wearing a crucifix the last few months.”
“A cross? I saw her personal effects at the morgue. Nothing like that there. Mostly pierced jewelry. There were a couple of necklaces, but…no cross.”
“Not just a cross, a crucifix. You know, with the anorexic Jesus on it.”
“Catholic, then. And I’m pretty sure Jesus wasn’t anorexic. Romans weren’t big on feeding their prisoners, from what I hear.”
“Hey, maybe you should join one of those reenactment groups like the vic was in. To-ga!”
Cal didn’t bother to correct Brody’s millennium-sized error. “Back to the point?”
“Raymer noticed the crucifix in all of her current pictures, and the people Macey and Raymer have talked to so far confirm that she didn’t go anywhere without it.”
“Who did they talk to?”
“Can’t help you there. Probably the same folks you did. And they say she wore it faithfully.” Brody chuckled at his pun. “So to speak.”
“Could have been a gift. I didn’t see anything else at the apartment to indicate she was devout. No other crucifixes or rosaries around the place. No religious pictures or icons. I don’t even remember a Bible, do you?”
“I wasn’t exactly looking for Bibles.” Brody was quiet for a minute while he considered. “No. I don’t recall anything either. But it was apparently only the last few months.”
“It could be another sore spot with Roubicek. Wish I’d known that before I talked to him.”
“You can always follow up.”
“I doubt he wants to talk to me aga
in. I grilled him pretty good.”
Brody laughed. “Oh, ho. Alienating witnesses again, Callie?”
Cal squirmed at Brody calling her by Starlight’s pet name. He’d picked up on it on the cruise, and probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. For some reason, it made her feel like Brody was talking down to her, or getting a little too familiar for their current relationship. Which made no sense, since she let him put his hand on her thigh. Somehow, though, the nickname seemed more intimate than that.
Cal controlled her pique, though her words came sharp and clipped. “Randy’s lying. I just need to figure out why, and what the real story is. That’s the job, Tanner.”
“Sure, I know. I’m just teasing you, Cal. No need to get all huffy.” His voice had gone from friendly and playful to forcedly casual—which might mean covering hurt. Was it her job to alienate everyone? Including the cop who had, probably against his partner’s advice, called her to give her a tip on the case?
“Sorry, Tanner. Guess I’m still short on sleep. Or maybe the coffee is making me edgy. I appreciate the info. I really do.”
“Oh-kay.” Brody’s voice still grumbled. “I’ll leave you to it, Cal. Talk to you later.”
Cal said a subdued goodbye, and Brody disconnected. She sat there inside her car and tried to convince herself her annoyance was Brody’s fault.
She failed.
On a straightaway on the 101, Cal pressed the gas pedal to the floor and thrilled to the full-throated turbo throb. Molly purred with delight at being allowed to open up all the stops and sail down the freeway.
Even at illegal speeds, the ride was smooth and effortless, as befitted a fast car in perfect working order. Cal squinted her eyes, reveling in the sensation.
“I don’t think risking your life is the answer.”
Cal didn’t turn her head to look at her father. She could see him clearly in her mind’s eye, sitting beside her in his corduroy jacket and long Seventies haircut, just as she always remembered him. The daddy that had left her too soon. She wished he’d lived long enough to see how she turned out. She wished she knew what he’d say to her.
The Girl In the Morgue Page 7
