Murder Over Cocktails: The 2nd Nikki Hunter Mystery (Nikki Hunter Mysteries)

by Nancy Skopin

  I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Peter put a hand on my arm and asked when the preliminary hearing would be and if I was being placed under arrest. That’s when I spotted Bill through the open door. He was standing in the hallway, talking heatedly with a gray-haired woman in a business suit. Loftus said the preliminary hearing had been scheduled for the following Tuesday, and that I was free to go.

  Bill followed us out to the parking lot, saying he’d meet us at the marina. Peter drove me home and parked in the boat owners’ lot nearest my gate, shut off the engine, and turned to face me.

  “Do you have any criminal history?” he asked.

  “I got busted for shoplifting when I was fourteen.” I squirmed. “And when I was twenty-three I drank too much tequila one night and made the mistake of driving.”

  “So you have a DUI on your record?”

  “Yes.” Why did I feel so guilty?

  When Bill pulled into the lot, Peter and I got out of his car and I introduced them. They shook hands. Peter gave me his card and said he’d meet me at my office Tuesday morning so we could drive to the hearing together.

  I impulsively hugged him, muttering, “Thank you,” into his shoulder.

  I didn’t have the strength to face the office in its current condition, so Bill walked with me down to my boat. Once we were on board I looked up at him, hoping he would volunteer some explanation for what was happening. He returned my gaze, but said nothing.

  I started the ball rolling. “Am I released into your custody?”

  “Yes,” he said. “That means I’m responsible for you showing up in court on Tuesday. Try not to break any laws between now and then.”

  “I’ll do my best, but I still don’t understand what could have happened to that knife. Did they check the drains in the pool?”

  “They checked the drains. They shook the bushes. I even had one guy climb a tree to make sure it didn’t get stuck in some low hanging branches.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. What about Maggie’s purse? She must have kept the knife in a sheath.”

  “They found a leather sheath and they found a large, empty zip-lock bag, but that doesn’t prove she attacked you. There are currently two theories on the table. One is that you had sex with Maggie, and it was your first lesbian affair, so you freaked out and went a little nuts. The other is that you’re telling the truth about your client dropping off those videotapes at your office and that after you watched them you decided to take matters into your own hands and kill the bitch.”

  Unfortunately, theory number two wasn’t that far from the truth.

  “So what happens now?”

  “A judge decides if the DA has a case against you. If so, then you go to trial.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “After all you’ve been through the last couple of days, you should talk to someone. There’s this shrink the department uses when there’s an officer-involved shooting. She specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder. Supposed to be pretty good. If you want, I can schedule an appointment for you.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You think I need to see a shrink?”

  “I think you need to talk to someone, yes.”

  For some reason I felt betrayed. Was Bill suggesting that I was unbalanced? Did he think I’d planned to kill Maggie? I couldn’t have been more disappointed if he’d suggested I confess to murder.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because killing another human being is traumatic,” he said. “And because I know you. You feel guilty. You need someone to help you get past this so you can defend yourself against the charges, if it comes to that.”

  “Oh. I guess that makes sense.” I was so relieved that he didn’t think I was a crazed killer that I was ready to sign up for whatever he believed was necessary. “What’s her name?”

  “Loretta Dario. She has an office on Jefferson.” He took a business card from his wallet and handed it to me. “Get some rest, Nikki. I have to go.”

  Bill held me close for a moment, kissed me on the forehead, and left. He was stretching himself pretty thin in an effort to help me get through this ordeal unscathed, and he hadn’t even said I told you so. What a guy.

  Chapter 28

  Bill had been gone about two minutes when I heard a knock on the pilothouse door.

  “What?” I hollered.

  “It’s me,” Elizabeth called out. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  She let herself in, sat down next to me at the galley counter, and put her hands in her lap.

  “I saw Bill leave. What’s going on?”

  “I’m being charged with murder.”

  I watched Elizabeth’s expression shift from amazement, to horror, and, finally, to anger, all in about two seconds.

  “Why?” she squealed. Now she was doing outrage.

  “They couldn’t find the knife and it doesn’t show up on the video. Maggie’s original tapes are missing and the sheriff’s department doesn’t put much stock in the authenticity of the copies I had in my safe.”

  “I see. Why don’t we go take a look at the crime scene.” Beyond outrage and into hero mode.

  “They probably have patrol officers posted to keep the press out.”

  “If that’s the case, we’ll just drive on by.”

  I looked at her. It was risky, but how much more trouble could I be in? Maybe, while we were at it, we should take a look around Maggie’s house. It made more sense than sitting at home feeling sorry for myself.

  “Okay,” I said. “I need to get the Glock back from you.”

  Elizabeth picked up the business card Bill had left behind. “What’s this,” she asked.

  “She’s a therapist the department uses for cops with PTSD,” I said. “Bill thinks I should talk to her.”

  “That’s a good idea. Have you called for an appointment?”

  “Not yet. I can do it later.”

  “Do it now. If you wait you’ll probably talk yourself out of it.”

  “Oh for Christ’s sake. Give me the damn card.”

  I dialed the phone and a woman answered on the second ring. Her voice sounded maternal.

  “This is Loretta,” she said.

  “Hi,” I began, suddenly not knowing what to say. “My name is Nicoli Hunter.”

  “Oh yes, Detective Anderson’s friend. He told me you might be calling.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes, dear. He’s very concerned about what happened to you. When would you like to come in?”

  “Maybe sometime next week?” I hedged, already having doubts about allowing someone to analyze my psyche.

  “I’ve had a cancellation for this afternoon at four-thirty,” she said. “Will that work for you?”

  I looked at Elizabeth, who could overhear the whole conversation, and was nodding enthusiastically.

  “I’ll see you then,” I said.

  I hung up the phone feeling apprehensive. I’d never been to a shrink before, and I had my doubts about trusting a stranger with what I was feeling, but Bill had a high opinion of this woman. How bad could it be? I tucked the card into my purse and gave Elizabeth a hug.

  “Thanks for making me do that,” I sighed.

  “No problem. Shall we go?”

  It was good to be with someone who believed in me, even if she was slightly prejudiced in my favor. I pocketed my lock picks and was halfway up the steps when I remembered I hadn’t eaten since dinner the previous night. I ducked back inside and grabbed an apple from the fridge.

  We stopped at Elizabeth’s boat and retrieved the Glock, which I locked in the trunk of my car.

  Our first stop was Heinz’s
Gun Shop. I took the Glock out of the trunk and put it in my shoulder bag. Once inside we waited until there were no other customers present, then approached Heinz at the counter. I explained my situation and handed him the gun. He took out a work order and pre-dated it by a week. He listed my request for a new sight with a tritium insert, and gave me a receipt for the gun.

  “It will be ready whenever you want to pick it up,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll replace the sight today.”

  “Thank you, Heinz.” I reached over the counter to give him a quick hug, and my eyes filled. Funny how you find out who your real friends are when circumstances turn against you, I thought.

  Our next stop was Atherton. We parked half a block from our destination. There was yellow crime scene tape across the front door of the house, but no squad cars in sight. We jogged around to the side yard and forced our way through the dense cypress. Not an easy task.

  There was crime scene tape everywhere in the backyard. I walked directly to the pool. Despite what Bill had told me, I remained convinced that the knife was in there somewhere, and I would be able to find it.

  Elizabeth hung back, taking everything in. The pool had been drained, so I stepped over the tape and climbed down the ladder at the deep end, dropping the last few feet. I walked the periphery of the empty pool and checked all the drains. Other than a few leaves, it was pristine.

  “Hey, Nikki,” Elizabeth shouted. “Come look at this!”

  I trotted to the shallow end of the pool and took the steps up, just as Maggie had the night before. Elizabeth was standing on the lawn between the hedge and the pool, near the back of the house.

  “Did you wear pumps last night?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Did you walk around over here at all?”

  I looked at the ground. There were two small indentations in the grass.

  “No,” I said. “We came in through the house. I only walked around by the pool.”

  “Don’t these look like they could have been made by high-heeled shoes?”

  I leaned down to get a closer look. She was right. If a woman wearing high heels had stepped through the hedge as we had, it might account for the two indentations in the sod. The grass flattened under the toe of the shoe would have sprung back by now. Elizabeth and I were both wearing athletic shoes and the tracks we’d made on the lawn a few minutes earlier were barely noticeable now.

  “Were there any female cops here last night?” Elizabeth asked.

  “There were a couple in uniform, but no lady detectives that I noticed.”

  We looked at each other.

  “I’ll mention it to Bill,” I said. “Come on. We may not have much time.”

  We searched the yard, looked up into the trees, and checked all the planter boxes. We even acted out the whole gruesome event. I played Maggie and Elizabeth played me. I lunged at her, pretending my smartphone was a knife, and she pointed her finger at me and said, “Bang!” I flung my arms forward as Maggie had done, releasing the phone, which flew in a spiral to my right landing on the lawn near the house, behind the planter box where the camera had been hidden, and not far from the indentations Elizabeth had noticed in the grass. If the knife had followed a similar trajectory it was conceivable that someone could have picked it up without me seeing them. If they moved fast they could have been gone by the time Bill arrived. Unfortunately, knowing this didn’t give us a clue as to who it might have been. We were assuming it was a woman, but that really didn’t narrow things down much.

  We pushed our way back out through the cypress and hustled to the Bimmer. As we were pulling away from the curb a patrol car made the turn off El Camino. The driver glanced at us, but continued on down the street.

  From Atherton we took El Camino north to Woodside Road. I turned down Maggie’s private driveway, parked under a tree at the top of the hill, and we walked the rest of the way to the main house. There was a single strip of crime scene tape across the front door. We crept around the side of the house to the family room entrance.

  I selected a tension wrench from my set of lock picks and went to work. A tension wrench is a very thin, flexible piece of steel. The one I was using was two inches wide and thirteen inches long, with a handle on one end. We were inside in about a minute.

  The small cabinet under the VCR had been left open, and it was empty. It gave me a chill just looking at it. We walked through each room on the first floor. All the bookshelves had been emptied by the search team. The place was a mess.

  I started going through the kitchen while Elizabeth went upstairs. I had my head in the oven when she called out, “Nikki, I think I found something!”

  I raced up the steps. “Where are you?”

  “Master bedroom,” she shouted.

  I found her standing in front of the fireplace. The framed mirror over the mantel had swung away from the wall on hinges, revealing a safe.

  “How did you find that?” I asked.

  “Easy,” she said grinning. “There had to be a safe somewhere. It wasn’t in any of the closets. So I started checking picture frames and ended up here. I think it’s elegant.” She was very pleased with herself.

  “We need Jack,” I said. “I don’t do safes.”

  Elizabeth had Jack’s pager number memorized, so we used my smartphone to page him and hoped he would respond quickly. Both of us were nervous about being in Maggie’s house. It was partly the fear that the police would arrive and catch us, and partly the creep-out factor of knowing we were in the home of a recently deceased serial killer. After twenty minutes we had gone through all of Maggie’s closets and drawers, and Jack still hadn’t called. The pressure was building. We’d have to come back later.

  We left the way we had come in, and I relocked the sliding glass door with my tension wrench. As we rounded the side of the main house I stopped and stared at the small stone cottage. Elizabeth continued up the hill. I knew she would distract any police who showed up long enough for me to disappear.

  The front door lock on the stone structure took a while, but eventually I got it open. The place was full of cobwebs and I didn’t see any footprints in the dust on the floor, so this was probably a waste of time. I looked up the chimney and found that the flue was closed, so I opened it, then jumped back before the soot could envelop me. When the ashes had settled, I reached up into the chimney. All I came back with was a hand full of greasy, black gunk. I shook my hand vigorously and tiptoed into the kitchen. I scrubbed my blackened hand and wrist with a dried up bar of Ivory soap, using my shorts as a towel. I looked in the kitchen cabinets, but apart from assorted bug carcasses and webs, they were empty.

  There wasn’t any furniture in the cottage at all. The bathroom sink had rust stains indicating that the dripping faucet had been allowed to persist over a prolonged period of time.

  I closed the door behind me, not bothering to lock it, and hiked up the road to Elizabeth. Along the way I glanced at the whitewashed bungalow positioned on the crest of the hill. I remembered it was furnished and wondered if Maggie’s brother might live there when he was in town. Bill had said he was listed at this address, but Jack hadn’t seen him.

  Elizabeth noted the direction of my gaze and nodded. Together we marched up to the front door and knocked. When there was no answer, I took out my lock picks for the third time. After a few moments I had the doorknob unlocked, but the door still wouldn’t budge. The deadbolt was engaged. Deadbolts are complicated and time consuming to pick. We had already been there too long and I could hear Bill’s voice in my head, warning me to stay out of trouble. Maybe Jack could open it for us later. It was time to go.

  Chapter 29

  We drove back to the marina and Elizabeth made coffee for me, adding a generous splash of Kahlua. It was heavenly. She had a glass of Kahlua and milk, without the coffee. We sat outside in th
e sun on her dock steps and drank our chocolatey beverages in companionable silence.

  We were both feeling pretty relaxed when my phone rang. It was Jack. I asked him if he could meet us at the Woodside estate to disengage the cottage deadbolt and open the safe in Maggie’s bedroom. He said he wasn’t available today, but that he could do it tomorrow morning around 10:00. Then he asked to speak with Elizabeth. I handed her the phone and she went inside for privacy. When they’d finished talking she came back out.

  “How are things going with Jack?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

  “Fine,” she said. “Good, in fact. Nikki, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Seriously. If the knife isn’t there, someone has to have taken it.”

  “Well duh.”

  “Who could it be?” Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “Who hates you that much?”

  “Jim asked me the same question. I can think of several people.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You remember the Laura Howard case?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but he’s in prison now.”

  “He had friends, and money.”

  “Okay. Who else?”

  “Bartenders, cocktail waitresses, and food servers. The eight employees from that club in San Jose.”

  “You think it could have been one of them?”

  “Not really. I’m tired. I need a nap.”

  “Don’t forget your appointment with the shrink.”

  Elizabeth hugged me tightly before letting me leave. I shuffled back to my boat, locked the pilothouse door and the hatch, took off my clothes, and slid between the sheets. I tried to sleep. Stress is exhausting and sleep is one of my favorite escapes, but it only comes when I’ve done everything I can to resolve the situation causing the stress in the first place. I have an anxious mind and it will not shut down when there’s work to do. After about an hour I gave up. I needed to take action.