by Nancy Skopin
I finally found Scott and J.V. coming out of the Seeing exhibit, talking enthusiastically about the difference between what they thought they had seen and what had actually happened. They’d watched a demonstration and then everyone in the exhibit was asked to recount what they had witnessed. Almost everyone had a different story.
We toured the other exhibits, stopping briefly at some and lingering at others. I kept quiet most of the time, letting the two of them get to know each other. By 5:15 my feet hurt and I was ready to call it a day. We walked across the street to the parking garage, and while J.V. and Scott walked Buddy I called Ilene Brewster.
“I’m afraid we kept Scott out longer than I had planned,” I said. “We’re at the Exploratorium. Have you fed the other kids dinner yet? We can stop somewhere before dropping Scott off.”
“I’m just putting supper on the table,” she said. “I’ll keep a plate warm for Scottie.”
“That’s a good idea. You probably feed him vegetables. I’ve been filling him up with fast food.”
The drive back to Burlingame was quiet. When I got off the freeway and stopped at a light, I turned and saw that both J.V. and Scott had fallen asleep. Scott was draped over Buddy in the back seat and J.V. was propped up against the passenger side window, a soft smile on his face.
When I pulled to the curb in front of the Brewster’s house I gave J.V. a gentle nudge.
He sputtered and said, “I was just resting my eyes.”
Scott gave Buddy one last sleepy hug before getting out of the car with his Exploratorium gift bag, and J.V. and I walked him to the door.
“When will I see you again?” Scott asked J.V.
“I have to go back to Seattle so the adoption people can interview me, and they want to look at my house, but I can come back next weekend if you want.”
“Okay.”
Still half asleep, Scott wrapped his arms around J.V.’s waist and hugged him. When Ilene opened the door and Scott slipped inside, J.V. took off his glasses and swiped at his eyes.
We stood on the porch for a minute, filling Ilene in on the timing of the adoption process and J.V.’s plans for another visit next weekend.
On the way back to Redwood City I asked J.V. if he wanted to work the stakeout with me again tomorrow.
“I booked a morning flight,” he said. “I want to get the process started in Seattle. The Brewster woman seems nice, but Scott needs a real home. He needs stability. I have to pick out a school and get some kid-size furniture for his room.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” I said.
“I always wanted kids. When we found out Roselyn couldn’t have any, she didn’t want to adopt. That just about broke my heart, but she was the love of my life, so I didn’t let on.”
“Better late than never,” I said. “You up for dinner with Elizabeth and Jack tonight?”
“I think I’ll get some sleep.”
“What time is your flight?”
“Eight fifteen.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
“No need for that. I can take a cab.”
“It’s no trouble. I’ll be up anyway.”
“Are you always this stubborn?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, so am I. I’ll take a cab. Where should I leave the house key?”
“Why don’t you hang on to it. You’ll need it next weekend.” I was pretty sure Bill wouldn’t object.
I dropped J.V. off at Bill’s house and drove back to the marina.
Chapter 18
Buddy and I boarded the boat at 6:25 p.m. It was quiet and only a few lights were on inside. I normally leave all the lights on when I’m out at night. I hate coming home to a dark boat, but Bill has a problem with wasting electricity, so he turns them off when I’m not around. I hadn’t seen his Mustang in the parking lot and wondered if he was still involved in this morning’s bust.
I turned on the lights in the main salon and checked my voicemail. There was one message. Buddy and I listened as Bill explained that Tooker had hired a lawyer who was demanding a bail hearing tomorrow.
I called him back to confirm that he wouldn’t be joining me at Jack’s house for dinner. Then I fed Buddy some kibble and took a quick shower.
Jack McGuire lives in a Tudor mansion in Hillsborough. I’d discovered the property for sale while working on an investigation for Jack. I fell in love with the estate, and then Elizabeth fell in love with it, and then Jack fell in love with Elizabeth, so he bought the place. Have I mentioned that Jack is extremely well off?
Buddy and I pulled up to the security gate at 7:01. I was reaching for the intercom when the gate slid open. Someone had been watching for me. I tooled down the long driveway and pulled up in front of the main house where Jack and Elizabeth were waiting.
It had stopped raining and was a pleasantly cool evening. Buddy jumped out of the car and pranced over to Elizabeth who squatted down to give him a hug. He licked her face a couple of times, and then jumped up on Jack, resting his big paws on the Irishman’s shoulders.
Jack and Elizabeth are a radiant couple. They’re both beautiful, but they really shine in each other’s presence. Seeing how happy they are together takes some of the sting out of how much I miss my best friend when she’s staying with Jack instead of on her trawler at the marina.
Elizabeth reached up to hug me and Jack threw an arm around my shoulder.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked. “I had salad for lunch and I’m starved.”
Elizabeth said, “Ilsa knew you were coming, so she made low-fat lasagna. Where’s Bill?”
“He’s working. The guy we were tailing molested a little boy in the library men’s room. Bill was hiding in a stall and caught him in the act.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“I know. Where’s K.C.?”
K.C. is Elizabeth’s fifteen-pound orange tabby cat. I was worried about an encounter with Buddy. He seemed okay with the marina cats, but they mostly stayed out of his path.
“He’s prowling around the grounds. Ilsa kept him inside all day while it was raining, so now he’s out exploring.”
We went into the house and Jack handed me a bottle of Guinness Stout while Elizabeth told me about the surveillance she had conducted that day. She had stayed with Vasey until late afternoon.
“He went to the Hillsdale mall and hung out at the Disney Store,” she said. “Talked to a couple of kids, but didn’t try to touch them. He’s got this intensity thing going on. You can kind of see it in his photo, but it’s more dramatic in person. I think he tries to intimidate kids into going with him. It’s really creepy.”
“What’s he driving?” I asked.
“A rusty old Toyota pickup,” she said. “Yellow and black.”
Jack sat down next to me on the couch and I reached into his breast pocket for the pack of Turkish Ovals I knew would be there. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Didn’t you quit?”
“Shut up and give me a light.”
Jack lit my cigarette and said, “Morales went to the Target store on El Camino. Toy department. His specialty seems to be talking up single moms who have infants or toddlers. He got a phone number from one lovely señora. When she left the store I had a chat with her. She’ll be changing her number tomorrow.”
We discussed the case over lasagna, green salad, and zucchini. At the end of the evening Ilsa presented me with a Tupper of leftovers for Bill.
Buddy and I got home around 10:30 and when we boarded the boat I could hear TV sounds coming from the main salon. Bill came into the galley when he heard Buddy leap down the companionway. I knew from the look on his face that he was unhappy about the way things were going with Tooker.
I presented him with the lasagna and h
e popped the lid and inhaled the aroma. Bill and Jack have issues. Jack’s a retired cat burglar and Bill’s a cop, but Ilsa Richter’s cooking transcends even the most extreme disparity. Bill grabbed a fork and wolfed down the cold lasagna.
I grabbed a Guinness from the fridge, sat down at the galley counter, and told Bill about Elizabeth and Jack’s surveillance experiences. His eyes glowed with anger when I told him about Morales getting the young mother’s phone number. He smiled when I told him Jack had spoken with her and she was having her number changed.
“She’ll probably never shop at Target again either,” I said.
“What’s happening with J.V.,” he asked.
“He’s flying home tomorrow, but he’s coming back next weekend. I told him to keep the key to your house. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine. I like him.”
“Me too. More importantly, Scott trusts him.”
On Monday morning my eyes opened before the alarm went off. Bill was snoring softly beside me. Buddy was on the foot of the bed and opened one eye when I sat up, then closed it again. I started the coffee maker before climbing into the shower.
I was on my second cup when the guitar music on the Dream Machine began playing. I heard Bill groan. I poured him a mug of coffee and handed it to him as he stumbled into the galley.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
“Umph,” he grumbled.
“Sleep okay?”
He took a sip. “Not really,” he said. Bill is not a morning person.
I left Buddy on board and went to the gym for a quick workout. I used all the upper body machines and the free weights, then did pushups and sit-ups.
When I got back to the boat Bill had showered and dressed, and was feeding Buddy scrambled eggs with Canadian bacon chopped up in them.
“Is there any left for me?” I asked.
“In the pan.”
I filled my plate and sat down at the galley counter.
“So what time is the bail hearing?”
“Nine o’clock.”
“Will you call me after?”
“I’ll try.”
“I think I’ll see what Jonathan Lewis is doing today.”
Lewis was the only predator on my list that we hadn’t covered yesterday.
Bill nodded and sipped his coffee.
At 8:20 Buddy and I walked up to shore and took a stroll around the complex before unlocking the office. I checked my e-mail and voicemail messages, then looked at the report I’d printed on Jonathan Franklin Lewis. He rented an apartment on 2nd Avenue. I knew the complex, but would need to locate his unit once we were there.
I examined his photograph. He was a forty-one year old Caucasian, six-one and two hundred and fifty pounds, with brown hair and brown eyes. Not a bad looking guy if you could overlook the creep-out factor.
I parked on the street near the tenement lot at 9:02, and hooked Buddy to his leash. We found a directory near the pool and located Lewis’s apartment on the third floor. I walked Buddy up three flights of outdoor stairs. I could hear the TV through Lewis’s window, so someone was probably home. I looked down at the pool. I’d be able to see the apartment clearly from there.
Buddy and I walked back down the stairs and parked ourselves in deck chairs facing Lewis’s unit. Luckily it wasn’t raining. There were just a few puffy clouds in an otherwise sunny sky.
Two hours later there was still no activity, which is often the case with this type of surveillance, but I was feeling anxious about not accomplishing anything on Scott’s case. Of course we’d nailed Tooker, but there was a chance he’d be back on the street before nightfall. I wasn’t so sure the killer didn’t have the right idea. I mentally kicked myself for the thought, but it forced me to acknowledge my own inner vigilante.
At 11:30 my cell phone rang. I knew it would be Bill.
“He’s out.”
“Shit. When?”
“Fifteen minutes ago. He was charged with a 288(a), so his bail was set at a hundred thousand, but he used a bail bondsman. The good news is that his prior was for aggravated sexual assault. If he’s convicted, he’ll be eligible for life imprisonment under the sexual assault “one strike you’re out” law. Where are you?”
“Over on Second Avenue. Maybe I’ll swing by Tooker’s hotel.”
“Be careful.”
Buddy and I hustled out to the street and piled into the BMW. We stopped at a Taco Bell for a low fat Burrito Supreme, then drove the short distance to Broadway. I found a parking space outside the secondhand store with a good view of the hotel entrance. If Tooker had left the courthouse on foot he was probably already home. I thought about checking with the front desk, but I didn’t want to tip my hand in case the desk clerk and Tooker were friendly.
After we finished the burrito, Buddy and I took a walk around the neighborhood. He lifted his leg on a few trees and a fire hydrant, and I did some window shopping, keeping one eye on anyone going into or coming out of the hotel.
At 3:00 I decided I’d had enough and we drove back to the marina. We took an extended walk around the wildlife refuge across the street, and then went to the office.
I was getting behind on my bar and restaurant surveys, so I pulled out my master schedule and made a list of what I would need to accomplish in the next week.
Chapter 19
Nina Jezek had heard about Nicholas Tooker’s arrest from a coworker. It was all the buzz how Anderson had caught him in the act. She wished she had been there instead.
She wanted to attend the bail hearing, but couldn’t risk it. Anderson would be there and they’d met on more than one occasion. He would recognize her. Anderson was a good cop. In a different world she might have made a move on him, even though she’d heard he was dating a female PI, of all things. She drove to the courthouse and sat in the parking lot in her old black Celica. It was not a noticeable car. She would wait and see what happened. Maybe Tooker would get what he had coming after all.
At 11:17 Tooker strode outside. He walked from Marshall to Broadway and turned right, heading toward downtown Redwood City. Nina started her engine and followed. She passed him on Broadway and parked a block ahead, assuming he was on his way to the hotel. She fumbled with her keys, pretending to lock the trunk, and waited for Tooker to walk past. Instead, he cut down an alley. Nina looked over her shoulder just in time to see him make the turn. She sprinted to the alley and saw Tooker go in the back door of a liquor store.
Five minutes later he exited the store carrying a brown paper bag and a pack of generic cigarettes. He stood in the alley opening the pack, lit one, and took a deep drag.
There was no one else in the alley. She might never have a better opportunity. Nina started walking toward Tooker, and when she was only a few yards away she said, “I’m lost. Can you tell me where the CVS Pharmacy is?”
Tooker looked annoyed. He nodded back the way she had come. “It’s the other side of the Caltrain station.”
Nina glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, then withdrew the switchblade from her pocket, snapping it open as she stepped forward, and jamming the knife up under his ribs. Tooker sputtered and coughed, spraying blood all over her face. Realizing she must have nicked a lung, Nina quickly pushed him off the blade and turned away. She heard a bottle break as Tooker hit the ground. It probably wasn’t uncommon for drunks to pass out in this alley.
Nina wiped her face with her sleeve as she hurried back to her car where she had a roll of paper towels. She scrubbed at her face with one hand as she started the engine. Pulling away from the curb, she glanced in the rearview mirror. There were flecks of blood on her eyelids. She blinked rapidly as she drove, hoping to expel Tooker’s bodily fluids with her tears.
Chapter 20
I was putting the finishing touches on my schedule for
the week when my phone rang. For some reason the sound startled me, and I jumped.
“Hunter Investigations,” I snapped.
“Tooker’s dead,” Bill said without preamble.
“What?”
“His body was found in an alley between Broadway and Brewster.”
“Let me guess, knife wound, garlic on the blade?”
“They haven’t done the autopsy yet, but I’m betting on it.”
“I sat outside his hotel until three. I guess he never made it home.”
“Apparently not.”
“I hate to ask, but how many people could have known about his bail hearing, I mean outside of the department?”
“There’s always the victim’s family. I’ll be talking to Jake’s parents.”
“I understand you have to do that, but if the same weapon was used it wasn’t them.”
“I know,” he sighed. “Any employees of the PD or the DA’s office would have known about the hearing, and anyone they spoke with about the case. Could be dozens of people. It’s the kind of thing people talk about.”
“He was just arrested yesterday. It’s too fast. I think our killer might be a cop.”
That went over like a lead balloon.
After a minute I said, “You still there?”
“I’m here.”
“I know you don’t like the idea, but it would explain the timing.”
