“Going somewhere, Ms. Bonatti?”
“Uh, well … yes, I was.”
Ianello remained silent. What is it about cops? They stare and remain silent and somehow I feel compelled to fill the silence, blabbermouth that I am.
“Just to visit a friend.”
“I see. Could I have a few minutes of your time?”
“Now?” I yelped.
“Yes. That would be convenient.”
I nodded. “Fine. Okay. Please come up.” A rush of guilt swept over me. I was glad Ianello climbed the stairs behind me and couldn’t see my face. Did he know I’d entered Moira’s apartment last night and searched it? Could the SFPD have the manpower to watch a murder victim’s apartment? Somehow I didn’t think so, at least logically, but I was reacting emotionally. Not only that, but Moira’s very expensive bracelet was still in my purse, and her black notebook had been stolen. There was absolutely no way I could admit to being there last night.
I led the way down the hall to my living room. Ianello strolled slowly, taking in everything. He turned in a full circle in the living room and finally sat in one of the chairs. I noticed he wasn’t wearing his patent leather shoes. Today he wore a pair of black leather loafers.
“I’d like to go over the events of Saturday night and Sunday morning with you again, if you don’t mind.” He removed a small notebook from his breast pocket and clicked a silver pen.
“Not at all.” Did I have choice? I reiterated everything I could think of, careful not to mention the fact that David had gone to Brooke’s house that night.
“I’d like to clear up a few things with you. You said you were asleep when you heard the shots?”
“Yes.”
“And you said you heard three shots?”
“Yes.”
“Did you notice any gap between those gunshots?”
I had to think a moment. “There was the first one—the one that woke me—and then a second one right after that. Maybe there was a gap between the second and third shot, but I know I heard three in all.
“Did Mrs. Ramer come down to the garage immediately?”
“Brooke? I … don’t really know for sure. She was there when we discovered it was Moira on the floor, but exactly when she came in, I don’t know.”
“Are you sure no one left the group or did anything unusual?”
“Well, we were all in the garage at some point. Brooke left with the ambulance. She didn’t even change out of her robe. Geneva and David were at their house, of course.”
Ianello looked up from his notebook suddenly. I managed to keep my expression neutral. Did he already know that David had been in Brooke’s garage near the time of the shooting? Had Geneva or David broken down and informed him?
“Matt and I followed Rob down into the garage. Brooke came down next and then Mary. Andy was the last to arrive. When the paramedics got there, Brooke asked Matt to take her mother upstairs. Later, Matt went up to the third floor to make sure Ashley was still sleeping and that the shots hadn’t woken her.”
“Why did Matt do that?”
“Mary Leary was in a state of shock, but she was worried about Ashley. Matt volunteered to check on her.”
“How long was he upstairs, do you recall?”
“I don’t remember, really. Not long. He came downstairs before you arrived.”
“Anything else?”
“Dan Leary got to the house just before you did, and then he went to the hospital to be with Brooke. Andy wanted to go too but the officer stopped him from leaving.”
“What was Mr. DeWinter wearing at that time?”
It took me a moment to realize he was referring to Andy. “Uh … jeans. I guess at the time I thought he’d pulled them on when he left his room. And a jacket.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes. Now that you mention it. I remember he offered me his jacket when we were in the garage. It was pretty cold that night.”
“Were you aware there was a gun or guns in the home?”
“No. I had no idea. I never even thought of anything like that. Why would I?”
“So you had no idea that Mr. Ramer possessed a gun?”
“No.”
“Did you see any other gun at any time in the house?”
“No. But then I’m not that familiar with the house. The only reason I was there was because of the wedding.”
“I understand that you were the first to reach Moira Leary as she lay on the floor of the garage.”
I shuddered, remembering her body and the pool of blood oozing around her head. “Yes.”
“Was she able to speak at all?”
I shook my head no, unable to banish the memory.
“What was the next thing that occurred?”
“I … I think Rob approached as I pulled back her hood. He cried out. He was horrified when he realized it was Moira.”
“And then?”
“I’ve answered all these questions before, Detective.”
“Please humor me, Ms. Bonatti.”
“Julia, please.” I forced myself to go through the event step by step. “Rob rushed over with a blanket—a car rug I guess—and covered her.”
“Why did he do that?”
“I don’t know. Instinct, I guess. If she’d had a chance of surviving, it might help in case of shock. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It didn’t strike me as strange at the time.” I hesitated but decided to take the plunge. “Maybe you could tell me something?”
Ianello’s face shifted to a lopsided smile. He waited.
“I heard the police searched Geneva and David’s house. What are you looking for?”
“I can’t tell you that. It’s an ongoing investigation.”
“When will the autopsy be finished?”
He remained silent.
“Have you found any shell casings?”
“That’s not something I can discuss either.” Ianello squirmed.
I was annoying him but I couldn’t shut my mouth. “You think Moira was shot with a different gun, don’t you? That’s what you’ve been searching for, isn’t it?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,” he replied.
What else did I expect?
“That’s it for now, Ms. Bonatti. We may have more questions for you in the future. Please stay in touch if you think of anything, and make sure you’re available.”
He rose with a serpent’s grace from the deep chair, probably hoping I wouldn’t ask him any more questions. I followed him down the stairs. As we reached the front door, he turned back to me, looking puzzled.
“Bonatti … I know that name from somewhere. Where are you from?”
“I grew up in North Beach. My grandmother still lives there.”
Ianello didn’t respond, just stared at me for a long moment before he turned and walked out the door.
He hadn’t volunteered any information, but it was obvious to me that they were searching for a gun other than Rob’s. Maybe it was foolish not to tell him about being attacked in Moira’s apartment last night, but I didn’t want to incur his wrath, or worse. I certainly wasn’t about to tell him that David had gone to Brooke’s house in the wee hours. I’d promised Geneva. She was upset and grief-stricken, and having her husband under even more suspicion wouldn’t help her at all. Besides, what possible motive could David or anyone else in the family have to kill Moira?
I looked out the living room window and watched Ianello’s car pull away from the curb. As soon as I was sure he’d gone, I dialed Mary Leary’s number again. Still no answer.
My client Adele was due in an hour and a half. Mary’s house was only eight blocks away from mine, at the corner of 35th and Anza—five blocks up the hill and three blocks over. I could get there in five minutes. There was still time. Once agai
n, I grabbed my purse and headed down the stairs to my car, annoyed that Ianello had delayed me and hoping against hope Geneva wasn’t still angry.
The Learys’ home is a two-story stucco house, painted white with three arched windows facing the street. It had been remodeled years before to create more bedrooms for their large family, now grown and gone. Geneva’s dad, an electrician, died five years into his retirement. Mary Leary had stayed on, living alone in the house. It was Mary who opened the door when I rang.
“I hope I haven’t come at a bad time. I’m just here to see Geneva for a few minutes.”
“Come in, dear. There is no good time right now.” Mary’s complexion was gray. Her movements were slow.
Geneva rushed down the hall toward me. I shed my jacket and dropped it on a chair by the front door. Mary turned away and shuffled down the long hall toward the kitchen.
Geneva hugged me. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. “I’m so sorry. You were right to say those things last night. It’s exactly what the police will think too, about David.”
“Can we sit out here so we can talk privately?” I gestured toward the living room.
Geneva turned and followed me. “Have you had a chance to …” She left the rest of the sentence unsaid.
I nodded in response and pulled the velvet box out of my purse.
“What’s this?”
I handed it to her. “Open it.”
Geneva turned the box over, her expression puzzled. She clicked it open and gasped. “What is this?”
“I found it in Moira’s apartment. In a drawer.”
“Oh, dear God, where did she ever get this? It must have cost a fortune.” Her complexion paled and she looked up at me. “Do you think it’s stolen?”
“I don’t know. But I have no doubt it’s terribly expensive.”
“Where would Moira get something like this?”
“Could Brooke have given it to her, or maybe Moira took it from her house?”
“Anything’s possible. It could be Brooke’s, but I’ve never seen it. If she had something like this, I think I’d know about it. And as much as she loved Moira, I can’t imagine why she’d give her something like this. Like I said, Brooke and Rob make a great deal of money, but they do have a huge mortgage and expenses. Brooke’s very practical—I can’t imagine her spending money on something like this when she could have made some house payments. Just not like her.”
“Where’s Brooke today? At home?”
“No. She had to go into the office, but she’ll be home later. Julia, hang on to this for now. Just keep it in a safe place. I don’t want my mother to see it, in case I’m wrong and it does belong to Brooke. Or worse, it doesn’t belong to Brooke.” We heard Mary’s footsteps in the hallway coming toward us. “Here.” Geneva shoved the box at me. “Don’t say anything to my mother.”
I hastily shoved the box into my purse just as Mary rounded the corner.
“Julia, would you like some coffee or tea? I’m just heating the water now.”
I smiled at Mary. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have to take off in a few minutes. I have an appointment to get to.” Mary nodded and returned to the kitchen.
I turned back to Geneva. “That’s not all. I spotted a black notebook, probably an address book or maybe a journal.”
“Did you bring that with you?”
“I was knocked out before I could get a look at it. I woke up on the floor just as the sun was coming up.”
Geneva’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, Julia. Someone was in the apartment when you got there?”
“No one was there. I checked. I was alone and the back door was locked. But somebody must have come in through the back door while I was searching in the living room, and they had a key. I would have heard if they’d used the front door. Which, by the way, was unlocked when I got there.”
“Moira would never have left her door unlocked. That’s one thing I know about her,” Geneva said. “She was always careful about that, even locking all her car doors when she was driving. It was a real thing with her.”
“I thought about taking the computer, but that would have been a red flag to the police. Besides, I didn’t know her password. If I hadn’t been attacked I would have gotten her notebook.”
Geneva sighed heavily. “What’s going on, Julia? If anything had happened to you … especially since I asked you to go there.”
“I’m glad I did, in spite of how my head feels. After you left last night, I thought about it. I realized it might be the only time to have a look before the police arrived. Obviously, somebody else had the same idea.”
“I really have no idea what was going on in my sister’s life.” Geneva sighed. “But whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Dan and I have to go over there to clean it out tomorrow. Her rent’s paid till the end of the month, but that’s only a week or so away. I certainly don’t want to owe her landlord a month’s rent, especially for that place.”
“Listen, I’ve got to get back—I have a client coming soon. I’ll check in with you later.”
Geneva rose and walked me to the door. I slipped my jacket on and pulled the front door open. Ianello stood on the doorstep, his finger hovering over the doorbell. Another plainclothes officer and two uniforms stood on the steps below him.
“Ms. Bonatti. We meet again.”
Geneva looked at me questioningly. I saw a flicker of fear in her eyes.
“Detective Ianello stopped by to see me earlier,” I said. I hoped Geneva would intuitively know that I’d never have betrayed my knowledge of David’s whereabouts to him. She nodded, and I was sure she grasped my meaning.
Ianello stepped aside as I walked out the door. When he had Geneva’s full attention, he pulled an envelope out of his breast pocket and handed it to her. “This is a warrant to search the premises.”
Geneva’s face went white. “You can’t be serious. My mother can’t handle any more upset.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss, but I have no choice.” Ianello stepped inside, the other officers following him. I turned to speak to Geneva, but the front door was slammed in my face.
fourteen
I stomped down the stairs, mentally cursing Ianello’s insensitive timing, and climbed into my car. I pulled a U-turn and headed up the steep hill to Geary. I was home in under ten minutes. There was just enough time to change my clothes and straighten out my desk. I aired out the apartment, put a kettle on the burner, and prepared a tray for tea. I needed to clear my head to be able to focus on my client’s reading. And speaking of my head, it still hurt. I swallowed two more aspirin and placed a cone of incense in the belly of my bronze Buddha in the hallway.
Adele’s appointment was set for noon, but she’s a very nervous and particular woman and always arrives early. I used to find this unsettling, but by now I was familiar with her habits and always made sure I was ready well ahead of time. The doorbell rang exactly at 11:45. I said a silent little prayer as I trotted down the stairs to open the door for her. I always do this—I pray that I won’t put my foot in my mouth, and that I’ll always have a positive message even if the transits are terrible, and that I’ll do my best to support and not harm.
Adele is in her seventies and had been a very successful accountant before she retired. In spite of her life experience, she was an emotional teenager in many ways. On her first visit, she confided that she’d been carrying on an affair for ten years with a man named Melvin, who was twenty years her junior and married, no less! After all that time, she still knew almost nothing about him. It takes a lot to surprise me, but Adele’s first visit caused my jaw to drop. She didn’t want to get married, but she did want her lover to leave his wife. There was just one teeny problem—his wife was his sole support. In addition, his wife was quite wealthy, and I was willing to bet anything that Melvin would never voluntarily leave her. His Sun sign was conjunct Nep
tune in his birth chart, so it was likely he was somewhat prone to fantasy, at worst dependent and deceptive. It was far more likely that his wife would leave him under a coming Saturn transit to her chart.
Adele wanted a companion. I’d reminded her that Melvin couldn’t possibly be a companion. He had a wife. I asked her if she wanted to live with him. She said, “No, I don’t want to live with him.”
“So you don’t want to marry him, you don’t want to live with him … you just want him to be available to you?”
“Well, yes. And I want him to leave his wife,” she replied.
I heaved a sigh, hoping that by now she’d moved on from this position. My file folder contained notes from a year before, when Adele had first come to see me, and the notations for her transits, progressions, and solar arcs were still valid for the next six months. I had pretty much covered this time period for her and I couldn’t help but wonder why she was coming back, besides the fact that she probably wanted to hear a different answer than the one I’d given before.
Right now, Adele’s progressed moon was conjuncting her natal Uranus. Perhaps she had had a change of heart. I figured she might be planning a trip, since her natal Uranus ruled her ninth house of long distance travel. I double checked the work and set her file to the side. I checked everything else—the tape recorder, tape, and a box of tissues.
I ushered her to the client chair in the office and returned with the tea tray.
“Thank you, dear. This is just what I need.” Adele seemed, if possible, a little more nervous than the last time I’d seen her.
I sat behind the desk. “Well, I see you’re planning a trip.”
“Oh, Julia, how did you know? You must be psychic.”
I laughed. “No, I’m not, believe me. It’s really very simple. Are you taking a cruise perhaps?”
“Yes, my daughter’s taking me. But I feel bad about not being able to see Melvin for three weeks.”
“Mmm,” I responded noncommittally. I was in the position of having to give the best advice I could, but quite frankly I disapproved of this little arrangement and thought Melvin was a real turd.
All Signs Point to Murder Page 8
