All Signs Point to Murder

by Connie Di Marco

  “Oh, Julia. Attorneys and prosecutors and judges play just as many games with your life in this world as in the corporate world. Just insisting on your innocence doesn’t cut any ice. There’s not one woman in here who’s guilty. Didn’t you know, we’re all innocent?” she said with a bitter laugh.

  “What does your husband have to say?”

  “Rob’s been fantastic. Thank God. He knows I love him and I’d never have done anything so ridiculous.”

  “What do you know about these emails the police supposedly have?”

  Brooke’s shoulders slumped. “About a year ago, Rob and I were fighting a lot … we were even talking about a divorce.” She twisted her fingers nervously. “Moira, I remember, sent an email that said something like ‘Let’s bump him off for the life insurance,’ but she meant it as a joke. I know she did. I don’t think I even responded to it. It was just at a time when she knew we were fighting and maybe talking about going our separate ways.”

  “But weren’t there others?”

  “Yes. That’s what I don’t understand. Moira would have had to be the one to send the other emails. But I can’t imagine her doing that.”

  “Geneva said she used to visit you at your office.”

  “Oh, sure, she’d come by to see me. A few times she brought Ashley in, that sort of thing. I’ve tried to remember … I know she used my computer sometimes to look things up.”

  “Did anyone else have access to your office computer?”

  “No. No one outside the company, certainly.”

  “What about your computer at home?”

  “Well … yes. Moira used it occasionally.”

  “What did the emails say?”

  “They were really … other than the one that was obviously a joke … they were ambiguous for the most part. The police confronted me with them. They said things like, ‘When are you going to wake up, what are you waiting for?’ And then supposedly I wrote back stuff like, ‘You’ll have to help me. I can’t do it alone.’ And another one from Moira said, ‘I know you want to get rid of him. You let me know what you need from me.’ But I swear, Julia, I know I didn’t write those—at least I don’t remember writing them. And I can’t imagine why Moira would write those things to me. But it had to be Moira. Who else had access to my house and my office? It breaks my heart to think that, but it’s the only explanation. Moira loved me, I know she did. But she resented me too. In her mind, I was everything she would never be. This was something she did to herself. It wasn’t the way I felt about her. I loved her with all my heart. My baby sister who could never seem to find her way. So no matter what I did or didn’t do, I was always wrong.” Brooke’s voice broke, but she took a deep breath and continued. “Julia, the only person with a motive for killing Moira was Andy. They fought a lot. I know my sister was out of control sometimes, but they had some violent arguments. Believe me, if anyone in our circle is guilty, it’s Andy.”

  I did my best to gauge the depth of her honesty. I have a tendency to take people at face value. I’ve learned the hard way to reserve judgment. After all, I didn’t really know Brooke Ramer. Could she be a manipulative, cold-blooded woman who could set her sister up to commit a murder? Had she planned to make Moira the scapegoat for removing an inconvenient husband? I remembered her Sun-

  Venus conjunction in Libra in the eleventh house. I just couldn’t believe her capable of anything so dreadful, and neither could her family. Moira, on the other hand, had always been in trouble. It made much more sense to imagine Moira preparing a scenario that would cause trouble between Brooke and Rob. Motivated by resentment and anger, she might not imagine the consequences of her actions.

  “I’m so glad Rob’s been supportive.”

  Brooke nodded. “We worked all that stuff out last year. But at the time, it was tough. I felt like we were facing a divorce.”

  “I heard Rob wanted another child. A son.”

  “He and his first wife weren’t able to have any children, so it was important to him, but …” She trailed off. “I just didn’t want to have any more children. We have Ashley and she’s older now, and she’s fine as an only child. I felt if I had another child, it wouldn’t be possible for me to keep up my work schedule, and my career is very important to me … was …” She laughed bitterly. “I guess that may be moot right now, huh?”

  “Rob was a widower when you married?”

  “Sondra’s death was terrible for him. He stayed very close to her sister Pamela, though. She thinks the world of Rob. He even gave her half of Sondra’s life insurance money. He felt terrible about what happened, especially since the two sisters had no other family.”

  “That was very generous of him.”

  “Yes, I know. We’ve stayed in touch with Pamela. We always invite her to holiday dinners with the family. Rob doesn’t want her to feel that she’s alone in the world.” Brooke’s eyes took on a faraway look. “You know, this time last year, we were on a boat trip. Funny how one day, one minute, can change every aspect of your life.”

  “You have a boat? That’s lovely.”

  “Oh, we don’t. It belongs to a friend of Rob’s. He keeps it moored in the Marina, but we have the use of it whenever we want. His friend travels a lot for his business and can’t really keep an eye on it, so he likes us to use it whenever we can. It’s a good-sized sloop with a full cockpit and galley. Rob was saying just yesterday that when this thing’s sorted out, he wants to plan a trip.” She smiled sadly.

  “I can’t believe they’re denying you bail.”

  Brooke shook her head. “The police play politics too. Rob worked in the DA’s office before he went to a private practice and I’m the editor of a high-profile magazine. The prosecutors want to look like they’re doing their job. But we’re really not that wealthy, at least not in terms of cash. I’m afraid the legal fees will eat most of it up.”

  A buzzer sounded and the same female guard opened a door behind Brooke. Her shoulders sagged.

  “That’s it. Our time’s all gone. Thanks for coming, Julia.” She attempted a smile without much success as she was led away.

  The wind whipped dust and trash up in the gutters as I left the building. I walked along the sidewalk, heading back to the parking lot. It was only mid-afternoon, but the air had turned cold. I wrapped my jacket tightly around me and walked as fast as I could through the lot, trying to remember where I’d parked. The parking guard had collected his fee in advance and now had disappeared. I unlocked the car and climbed in out of the wind, then navigated over the metal teeth set in concrete at the exit and headed home.

  The visit to Brooke had been draining. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she was feeling, locked up as she was. If she were found guilty, her life would be over—her career, her marriage, and her relationship with her daughter. Even if she was eventually released, how could she rebuild a life? The only blessing she had at this point was the fact that her husband, and her family, believed her innocent.

  I maneuvered out of downtown and as I drove west on Geary, I made a quick decision and moved into the left-hand lane. I headed toward Waller and passed by the Alibi bar. I drove a few more blocks, pulled a U-turn, and cruised down the street one more time. A couple came out of a bookstore. A girl with purple hair rearranged a sign in the window of one of the tattoo parlors and some teenagers were hanging out in front of a smoke shop.

  I finally spotted him. A man in a wheelchair in front of the church near the corner of Clayton. I parked at Stanyan and walked back. He was corpulent, perhaps early sixties. His legs ended at his knees, but his arm muscles bulged under a sweatshirt. He wore several layers

  of clothing. His face was round and babyish with a few days growth of orange-and-gray stubble. Aviator glasses covered his eyes. A baseball cap was pulled down over long greasy hair. His wheelchair was a complicated affair with hand controls and several rubber wheels. I hoped he was
n’t carrying any weapons anywhere in his gear. On his lap was a stack of pamphlets. As I came closer, I could see they were religious tracts.

  “Are you here to talk about Jesus?” he cried out to me as I crossed the street. I stopped and watched him carefully. The curb was so deep we were almost eye to eye.

  “No, and I don’t want to see him, either.”

  He laughed, throwing his head back and treating me to the sight of a row of decayed teeth. “Well, lady, if you’re not into visiting Jesus, then why come to me?”

  “Are you Zims?”

  “At your service.” He leered at me.

  “I’m here about Moira Leary.”

  His face darkened. “What about her? Are you a cop?”

  “Hardly. Her family wants to know.”

  “Crazy bitch. I heard what happened. Doesn’t surprise me.”

  “What was she using?”

  “Mostly coke, but she was movin’ over to meth. Nobody woulda needed to kill her. She woulda taken care of that herself. Of course, you understand I just heard about this. On the street, you know. Nothin’ to do with me.”

  “’Course not.” I replied dryly.

  He watched me for a moment. “What’s it to you anyway?”

  I remained silent and pulled a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet and folded it up. He snorted in derision. I pulled two more twenties out and folded them up with the first and held the cash up. He snatched it with surprising speed, tucking it into one of the pockets in his many layers.

  He looked at me over his aviator glasses. “I wasn’t doin’ any business with her, you know. Not after she got busted.”

  That made my ears go up. “When did that happen?”

  “’Bout a month ago. I saw the whole thing. They picked her up and took her away. Then they dropped her back a few hours later.”

  “She wasn’t charged?”

  “Nope.” I waited and watched him closely. “Maybe they wanted something from her. Maybe it wasn’t about drugs. But after that, I didn’t want nothin’ to do with her.”

  I tried not to look at his missing legs. He caught my eye.

  “’S okay, lady. I’m used to people staring.”

  “I heard you’re a vet.”

  “Yeah. A long time ago, 1969. Another life. God bless America.” He gripped his controls and suddenly wheeled away, leaving me standing on the street with an empty wallet.

  It wasn’t my lucky day. A ticket was stuck under my windshield wiper. I pulled it out and shoved it in my purse. I didn’t want to think what the fine was. I’d hyperventilate later. If Zims could be believed, Moira was picked up by the police and then released. Or picked up by somebody. Was it a drug bust? Or maybe the cops wanted an informant in the neighborhood. That would line up with what Rita had suspected, that the man who stopped into the bar to see Moira was a cop. Then again, maybe it had nothing to do with drugs. Either way, she not only hadn’t been charged with anything, she’d been escorted back.

  Andy claimed Moira was cheating on him. Steve thought her brother was supplying her with drugs or the money to buy them. Moira was in possession of a very expensive item of jewelry and was worried she was pregnant. If there was yet another guy, who was he?

  thirty-five

  I trudged up the front stairs to my apartment. I looked up and gasped involuntarily. Matt was sitting on the top step by my front door.

  “Matt! What are you doing here?”

  “Julia, sorry. I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes.”

  “This is kind of a bad time.” I was wondering why he hadn’t just picked up a phone. His visit was peculiar to say the least and I had no desire to invite him in.

  “I just talked to David. He told me about Brooke’s arrest. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Not in detail. I just came from seeing her.”

  “You did?” Matt’s face paled. “How is she?”

  “Not great, as you can imagine.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s at the 7th Street jail. But it might not be such a good idea for you to show up there. You’d be giving the cops a lot to think about.”

  Matt nodded. “You’re right. I don’t dare go to see her. It could cause a lot of trouble with Rob. No one knows about us and I want to keep it that way.”

  “Not even David?” I queried.

  “Especially David. I wouldn’t want him telling Geneva. Not that I don’t trust them—I do. They’re both good friends. It’s just that neither Brooke nor I wanted to involve them. It was just better they not know about us.” He sighed heavily. “Look, I’m very nervous. I really hope you won’t ever mention what you know about this to anyone. I never thought when I gave you her birth information that you’d recognize it.”

  “I understand. You don’t have to worry. Anything you tell me in a reading is absolutely confidential. I can’t tell anyone else. It’s completely private and will go no further. Not even to Geneva. Of course, if you tell me you’ve committed a crime, that might be different.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I thought about them.

  Matt’s face turned pale. “Oh God, you don’t think I had anything to do with Moira, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.” I realized as I spoke that I really didn’t suspect Matt. He was staring at me. “Don’t worry. Your secret about Brooke is safe. Unless you’ve told someone else, or Brooke has. But no one will ever hear it from my lips. You’re my client.”

  He took a deep breath and his face relaxed. “Thanks, Julia. It could really screw things up for me. Business-wise, I mean. My firm handles Rob’s investments. Not to mention the trouble it would cause for Brooke. You understand?”

  “I do.”

  “I’ll let you go then. I appreciate it.” He turned and walked down the stairs.

  Matt was definitely suffering from a guilty conscience, but if his affair with Brooke came to light now, the fallout could be disastrous for her. She could lose the support of her husband. Not to mention how the police might read it. I couldn’t help but wonder if their affair had really ended several months before. Was it stretching it to think a single attractive male would still be so smitten a year after the relationship was over? So smitten, in fact, that he was driven to talk to an astrologer? Perhaps I’d been a little too gullible in believing his version of events.

  thirty-six

  I hoped to have a chance to talk to Geneva before the wake. I knew she was on thin emotional ice, and I was far more worried about her than I was about Brooke. I’d called Mary Leary’s house, but the only response was the answering machine. Geneva was probably at the funeral home by now. I left a message on her cell to call me if she was able to. Then I munched on a dinner roll and fed Wizard.

  Rummaging in the hallway closet, I found a navy dress and jacket appropriate for the wake. I even had a pair of navy blue heels. My grandmother would be scandalized if I hadn’t produced a pair of shoes to match my outfit. I may not have much in my checking account, but thanks to her samples, I have plenty of clothes. I switched purses, gave Wizard a big hug, brushed cat hairs off my jacket, and trotted down the stairs to the car.

  I reached my grandmother’s house in twenty minutes. As usual, parking was impossible and I pulled up to the garage door. Fog had rolled in with a vengeance and was billowing in from the bay. I rang the bell, then, using my key, opened the front door. I called up the stairs to Gloria’s apartment.

  “Hello dear. Come on up,” she replied. “Kuan’s here too. We’re just having some tea.”

  I climbed the stairs and walked down the short hallway to the kitchen. Mahjongg tiles were laid out on the kitchen table. “I’m getting an education in strategy.” She looked up at me.

  “Julia, how are you?” Kuan stood and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You look very nice. So sorry it’s for a sad occasion.”

  “Aren
’t these fascinating, Julia? They’re so beautiful! These are Winds and these are Dragons. Would you like some tea?”

  “Thanks, no. We have to hit the road if we’re going to make it in time.”

  Kuan said, “You two go ahead. I’ll clear up before I go downstairs.”

  “Are you aiding and abetting my grandmother’s gambling?” I asked.

  “Yes. Of course. In fact, she’s pretty good.”

  “I want him to teach me Weigi and Chien-tsu too. I just love those names, don’t you?” Gloria turned to me with a smile. “So exotic.”

  “Sounds like something you do in an opium den. Come on, let’s go.” I waved to Kuan. “Just make sure she doesn’t lose her house, okay?”

  He chuckled in response but gave me a hard look, as if he knew that I was the one getting involved in things best left alone.

  thirty-seven

  Nordenson’s was a rambling one-story, cinder-block building plastered in white stucco on the outside and painted pale green in the interior rooms. Bland landscapes and floral prints were hung at strategic points along the walls. The air from the vents was perfumed with a slight tinge of formaldehyde. Two large men who looked like members of the Leary clan stood guard at the archway to a room decorated in more soft greens. They watched carefully as guests signed in. I was sure I’d seen both men at Geneva’s wedding.

  Gloria and I signed our names in the guest book and entered. Mary, Geneva, and Dan Leary sat in chairs placed at an angle to the casket and diagonally facing the seating within the room. The casket was open. I stood back while my grandmother knelt and closed her eyes in a silent prayer. Then she made the sign of the cross and rose to greet the Learys. Mary clutched a tissue in her hand, her eyes swollen. Geneva introduced my grandmother to Mary. Dan nodded, but otherwise sat silent and stone-faced.

  I knelt at the bier and said a prayer, not just for Moira but for all the family. Before the wedding, I hadn’t seen Moira for at least four years, and although the undertaker’s art had done its amazing work, she looked much harder in death than her twenty-eight years. I’m not a big fan of wakes and funerals—I’ve always thought cremation’s a much cleaner way to be disposed of. The whole prospect of being buried in the ground seems gruesome, no matter how watertight the undertaker might claim the casket to be.