by M. Z. Kelly
Mary Jean came over to her. She was a heavyset woman in her forties, with fleshy features. “It sounds like you two are getting serious.”
Emily tried to be noncommittal because her coworker loved to gossip with the other docents, and she didn’t want what she said getting back to her boss. “We’re just having fun, seeing the sights around the city.”
“Fun.” Mary Jean stood her ground. “I heard Derek’s a keeper.”
Emily chuckled. “What does that mean?”
“He’s handsome, with a stable job. If you don’t close the deal soon, he’ll move on.”
“You make it sound like I’m buying a car.”
“No, you’re buying a future husband, and the good ones don’t wait around.”
“We’ll see.” Emily stood. “I need to make some notes before my next tour.”
What she’d said was an excuse to get away from Mary Jean, but as Emily sat in a private office and made an outline of the morning’s topics for her tour, her thoughts drifted to Derek.
Mary Jean had been right. Derek wasn’t likely to wait around if she continued to distance herself from him. After they’d left the winery, he’d repeatedly asked her why she was so upset, but she’d refused to talk.
How would she ever begin to tell Derek about her family, or the life she had before coming to Seattle. She’d already lied to him, telling him that she’d grown up in a town outside of Chicago. She’d even mapped some schools in the area, making up stories about the ones she’d attended. It had all been a lie, and, if he ever learned about her past, she was almost certain he’d have second thoughts about their relationship.
Emily did her best to put those thoughts out of her mind. After making notes for her tour, she waited in the museum’s main lobby as her group assembled. Since it was a Monday, there were less than a dozen people who gathered around as she introduced herself and began leading them through the museum exhibitions.
The tour lasted about an hour and was uneventful, other than a woman claiming she had inside information about the techniques of one of the artists whose works were on exhibit. As she was finishing up the discussion, an older man, who hadn’t said anything during the tour, asked her a question that surprised her.
“Did you ever have an artist on exhibition whose life was a mystery?” the man asked.
Emily turned, seeing that he was smiling. The man was probably in his late fifties or early sixties, with silver hair and pale blue eyes. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, before responding. “Well, I guess every life has its mysteries, but we have some general information about most of our artists.”
“I see,” the man said, rubbing his cheek. “Still, there must me some things that you want to know about a person that remain hidden.”
His comment unsettled her. “Maybe. I guess it depends on the artist.” She turned away from him and said to the group, “Thank you all for coming. Be sure to stop by our gift shop before you leave. We have a wonderful collection of prints and souvenirs.”
As the others wandered off, the man came over to her and offered a hand. “Thank you for the lovely tour. It was exceptional.”
She shook his hand. “You’re welcome.”
The man started to leave but turned back to her for a moment. “We have the Museum of Fine Arts where I live. It has a large collection, but what I’ve seen today is truly unforgettable.”
“Where do you live?” Emily asked.
“Boston.”
TWENTY
Bernie and I got to the station a couple minutes early the next morning. We met Leo in the parking lot, where he greeted me and my furry partner.
“Bet he’s glad to be back on duty,” Leo said, reaching down and giving Bernie some love.
“He’s happy, but I’m not.”
Leo rose and looked at me. “Seems like letting us spend a few more days with the feds would have been the right thing to do.”
“I have no doubt Bronson wanted us off the case. Do you know what’s happening with Pearl?”
We walked into the station as he answered. “I’m not sure, but I plan to call him later. Since Harlee’s dead, and maybe Caine, the feds probably wanted him out of the way, back in witness protection. But he might have his own take on things.”
“I’m going to have lunch with Joe and ask him for an update. I’ll let you know what he says.”
Leo and I met up with Olivia when we got to our workstations. I saw that Al was talking to the lieutenant and lowered my voice, asking how things were going with her temporary partner.
“We’re getting along fine, for a Homicide cop contemplating homicide.”
I smiled. “Which one of you is doing the planning?”
“Probably both of us. I know I’ve had my share of homicidal thoughts.” Olivia had worn her dark hair down and swept it behind a shoulder as she went on. “I hear your federal case literally went on meltdown. The press coverage has been non-stop, and some people have evacuated the city.”
“I’m hoping things will start to calm down. As you probably know, the meltdown was in a rural area, so the fallout has been relatively contained.”
“And Phaedrus? Or Caine?”
“That’s the million dollar question. He’s either in the center of the earth or out there somewhere planning who knows what.”
“The lieutenant wants everyone in his office,” Al said, calling over to us.
Olivia and I stood as she said, “I guess the only good news about what’s happened is that we’re back working together.”
As it turned out, after we gathered in his office, Lieutenant Byrd told us he had other ideas. He looked at Al, then Olivia. “Since you two have taken the lead on McVey-Spence, I’m going to let you continue working this. Leo and Kate will be helping out to move things along.”
Al started to protest, but Byrd cut him off. “My decision is final.” He looked at Olivia. “I’ll let you get everyone up to speed.”
Olivia took a breath and said, “So far, this case has been on slow speed. We did get the autopsy results on our victims. They were both shot in the back by the same weapon. The coroner felt the shooter was close in both instances, maybe twenty yards away, at most.”
“I don’t suppose there was anything in the databases on the rounds,” Leo said.
“Nothing. We did finally manage to get hold of John McVey’s ex, Stephanie. She didn’t tell us much, but said she will be in town today for John’s funeral. She agreed to meet with us at the church before the services.”
“What about...?” Leo checked his notes. “Garth Spence.” He looked at Al. “From what I remember, you had a theory that our victim’s husband might have hired somebody to do the killings because he found out his wife was having an affair, and you were going to check his bank accounts.”
“Dead end,” Al said. “We talked to him again. He refused to let us into the bank records, but put on an Oscar winning performance, denying he had anything to do with the murders.”
“He seemed sincere,” Olivia said. “We talked to the DA, but, absent something more, we don’t have enough to subpoena the bank records.”
“What about both victims’ coworkers?” I asked, still trying to put the federal case out of my mind and focus on this case. “Did anybody come up during your interviews who might be a suspect?”
Olivia and Al looked at one another. Al answered. “Not really. My money’s still on Garth, but some people are easily conned.”
Olivia glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t want to believe Mr. Handsome killed his wife.”
“Who’s Mr. Handsome?” Byrd asked.
“Garth. He not only acts like he’s George Clooney, he looks like him.” He looked at Olivia. “And some people can’t get past that.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Olivia shook her head in disgust. “We don’t have anything, other than Al’s conjecture, that points to Garth Spence as a suspect.”
Al started to
argue, but the lieutenant cut him off. “Let’s move on.”
“There is one thing that came up when I interviewed a teacher at Gina Spence’s school,” Olivia said. “She said that Gina had an interest in the movies and doing some part-time acting. She didn’t know if she’d followed through on that but said Gina had told her something about going by Mogul Studios recently. I think it might be worth checking out the studio.”
“Let’s talk to McVey’s ex, then the people at the studio,” Byrd said. “I’ve got cases stacking up, so let’s shake something loose.” He looked at me. “I need you to stay behind for a minute.”
After the others had left the office, Byrd closed the door and sat back down. “I got word early this morning that you’re subject to callback.”
I tugged at the sleeve of my blazer. “Callback. What does that mean?”
“If the feds need you, let me and the captain know, and you’re cleared to work with them.”
“Why the change of heart? I thought Bronson wanted me on a short leash.”
The lieutenant did a hair pat, pushing down his fluffy silver-gray nest. “Between you and me, I think it was the senator.”
“Who?”
“Dani Sanford.”
If that was true, I was grateful. Sanford and I had made a connection, and she knew I wanted justice for her daughter.
Byrd went on. “As you know, there’s been an outpouring of sympathy for what happened to Sanford’s daughter. She’s got a lot of friends in high places, including Washington. I think they applied some pressure down the chain and, since you’re instrumental to the federal case, that prevailed.”
“Do they think something else is going to happen? I was told that, since Caine is probably dead, it’s just mop-up work.”
He shrugged. “You might work your sources on that. All I know is that you’re cleared to go, if the need arises.”
I got Bernie and started to head for the door. “What about Leo?”
“I’m not sure. You can fill him in on what I said, but we’ll have to clear it through channels if he’s also approved.”
After leaving the lieutenant’s office, I thought about calling Joe, but remembered I was having lunch with him. I decided to wait until then to see if there were any new developments.
I tidied up my workstation, then Leo and I followed Olivia and Al to the Brentwood Presbyterian Church, where John McVey’s funeral was to be held. Along the way, I told him about my conversation with the lieutenant. “I don’t know if there’s anything new with the federal case, but, if they need me, I’m cleared to go. Byrd said he would check on your status.”
Leo glanced at me as he drove. “I’ll give Pearl a call, see where he stands on everything.”
“I’m having lunch with Joe, so I’ll update you on anything new,” I reminded him.
He glanced at me again, before turning off the freeway. “How are things with you two?”
I hesitated before answering. Leo and I had been partners at one time, and I knew I could confide in him. “Honestly, we’re growing closer. It’s taken a long time, but I think we’ve finally found some common ground.”
Leo’s dark eyes found me again as he stopped at a traffic light. “Joe’s a good man. Just be careful.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“Just that he’s got a lot of years in a tough business. Sometimes that past affects you in ways you don’t expect.”
I took a moment to consider what he said and decided he might be speaking from personal experience. “Joe confided in me that he’s getting close to retirement.”
He gave me a long silent look before the light changed and we moved off.
“What about you?” I said. “Any more thoughts about pulling the plug?”
A smile touched his lips, slipped away. “Thoughts, but no decision.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. I like having you around.”
The smile came back. “The feeling’s mutual.”
We met with Stephanie McVey in the church offices down a corridor from where the services were scheduled. She was an attractive woman in her late thirties, with dark hair and flawless skin. I knew that our victim had been in his fifties and learned that she and her ex-husband had met when she was in college.
“John gave a presentation to my journalism class at Willamette College,” Stephanie told us. “He asked me out for coffee after the class, and I was a goner. He was very handsome and persuasive.”
Olivia had taken the lead and said, “We understand you were divorced about five years ago.”
“It was a mutual decision. John wanted his freedom.” She blinked, drawing in a short breath. “Despite our history, we did have a beautiful daughter together, and I’m sorry about what happened to him.”
“Do you know if he was involved with someone else recently?”
“Probably lots of someones, but we haven’t been close in years. John was never faithful to me. We’d fallen out of love, and it was best to go our separate ways.”
“Maybe one of those someones was Gina Spence,” Al said, putting on his bad cop face. “As you know, she was murdered shortly before your husband, and he may have had something to do with it.”
“I don’t know anything about her. I think John was dating a stewardess when we divorced, someone named Julie. And, just so you know, he was never the violent type. If you think he had some involvement in the murder of this Spence woman, you’re way off base.”
“Last name.”
“What?”
“The stewardess. What was her last name?”
“I don’t remember.”
Olivia cast a disparaging eye at Al and took over again. “I take it John never mentioned Ms. Spence?” A head shake. “What about other women? Or friends he might have had a falling out with? Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to harm him?”
She took a long time to answer, shifting her weight and losing focus as she thought about the question. She finally looked back at Olivia. “All I can think of is maybe it was someone who he wrote an article about. As you might know, John did a lot of investigative journalism pieces over the years. He probably had his share of people who weren’t happy with him.”
Leo and I had remained quiet during the interview, but what she said brought something to mind in the case file notes I’d read before I’d gone to work with the feds. “Didn’t he do a piece on a chemical company?”
She nodded. “Yes. I do remember something about that. Danica, our daughter, mentioned it to me once. I think it had something to do with a company that had produced chemicals that caused birth defects.”
“Sorin Chemicals,” Leo said. “I remember reading that your husband’s article about the company resulted in several lawsuits.”
“If you say so. I really didn’t follow what happened.”
“What about your daughter?” Olivia said. “Is she going to be at the services? Maybe we could ask her what she knows about it.”
“I’m afraid Danica’s staying away. She and John...” She tugged on an earring. “Let’s just say they weren’t close. I’m afraid she blamed him for our divorce. I don’t think she’d spoken to him in years.”
After getting an address for her daughter, we thanked Stephanie McVey and left the church. When we were at our cars, Olivia asked Leo and me for our thoughts. Al didn’t wait, and gave us his take on things.
“My money’s still on Garth, and I’m not talking the country-western singer.”
“Why is that?” Olivia asked.
“No one else had a motive. I want to go back to the DA, make another case for getting into his bank records.”
“You ever think there’s another aspect of these killings that doesn’t involve McVey and Spence being involved?” Leo asked him.
“Give me a break. The killings were three days apart, same MO, same weapon.”
“Maybe Leo has a point,” I said. “Stranger things have happened.”
“Yeah, and alien
s just landed in Hollywood.”
“Tell you what,” Olivia said to Al, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why don’t you do the work-up for the DA. We’ll go follow up at Mogul Studios.”
“Fine. See you all at the station.”
After he was gone, Olivia rubbed her temples and said, “I want you to know that I’ve developed a medical condition.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The doctor says my migraines are work related. They’re called Corbins.”
TWENTY-ONE
“I hope that asshole rots in hell,” a man said.
Emily Langford looked at the TV screen in the coffee shop where she’d stopped on her way to work. There was a reporter, standing beside a road in a deserted area.
The customer sitting at the table next to hers continued. “Maybe the son of a bitch will glow in the dark.”
Emily only occasionally watched TV but she’d heard about what happened in the desert near Los Angeles. They were calling it a nuclear meltdown but saying everyone was okay. The images on the screen changed, and the photograph of an older man appeared.
Emily stood and walked over to the television, listening intently as the reporter talked about the man on the screen. “This subject, the man who calls himself Phaedrus, has been identified by authorities as Nathan Caine. It’s believed he was killed in the explosion that occurred less than forty-eight hours ago.”
“Hey, I can’t see through you,” the customer called out behind her.
Emily turned to him. “Go to hell.”
She rushed out of the restaurant, her mind suddenly on overload. She was sure the man the reporter was talking about was the same person who had been in her tour group at the art museum. That was yesterday. The announcer for the television station said the explosion had happened the day before that. If that was true, it meant the man who had caused it was still alive. But why would he have come here?
“Oh, God.” Emily felt like her head would explode as the reality about what was happening suddenly hit her. What should she do? Her thoughts went to Derek. No matter what happened, she needed to tell him the truth about her life. He deserved to know everything.
