by Nancy Skopin
When he left for work I lingered over coffee, basking in the afterglow and feeling pretty good about life in general.
I showered, dressed, and walked Buddy, then unlocked the office and flipped on the TV in my kitchenette while I was making coffee. I tuned it to CNN, anxious to see if Nina had struck again, but there were no new murders being reported.
I typed up my surveys from the day before and e-mailed them off with attached invoices.
I had a couple of dinner surveys to do that night, so I called Lily to see if she felt like coming along.
“Free food?” she said. “Of course I’ll come. What time?”
“I’ll meet you at the office at 5:00.”
“Okay. How should I dress?”
“We’re going to Chez Jacques in Atherton and Barron’s in Portola Valley, so dress up a little.”
“Goodie!” Nobody likes to dress up more than Lily.
I called Elizabeth at work to tell her about my night of debauchery with Bill.
“Congratulations,” she said, when I had told her all the juicy details. “When are you seeing each other again?”
“We didn’t make any plans.”
“Uh huh,” she murmured, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“When you love someone they can rip your heart out,” I said.
“I get it. You’re afraid of letting Bill get close enough to hurt you again.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s just stupid.”
“Shut up.”
“If you love him, you have to take that chance.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Shit. I guess maybe I could tell him that I love him.”
In the end, nothing was decided. My phone rang as soon as we ended the call. It was Bill.
“Hi, Nikki. Last night was great,” he began, unceremoniously.
I held my breath and waited.
“I really flipped out when I found out you’d been lying to me,” he continued.
“I noticed.”
“I think we need some ground rules,” he said.
“Ground rules?”
“Why don’t I come over after work and we can talk about this in person.”
“I’m doing two dinner surveys with Lily tonight. Can you come by around ten?”
“Sure. Hey, Nikki?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Shit! “I love you, too,” I muttered, against my better judgement.
At least Elizabeth would be happy. I’d taken a leap of faith, and it scared the crap out of me.
Chapter 46
Nina had no difficulty locating a supplier of fraudulent documents in Amsterdam. She purchased three new identities, including passports, driver’s licenses, and credit cards.
On one of her walks through the red light district, while stalking the VanKeurens, she discovered a specialty shop where she purchased a make-up bag lined with lead, ideal for transporting small weapons in one’s luggage. This would save her the trouble of finding a new knife in each country she intended to visit. She planned to surround the knife with tampons, in case the blank spot in her luggage aroused curiosity going through an airport security scanner. She had been unable to find a stiletto switchblade in Amsterdam, but she had found an adequate knife with a long narrow blade, and a vinyl sheath, which she coated with garlic oil.
Nina was ready to move on within a week. She took a taxi to the Schiphol airport and booked a flight to Changsha, China. Her ultimate destination was Guizhou, but the nearest airport was in Changsha.
She picked up an English/Tujia dictionary at the duty free shop, and began studying it while she waited for her boarding call.
Chapter 47
Lily and I dined on excruciatingly delicious French and Spanish cuisine while discussing Nina’s psychoses. We share an interest in psychology and Lily’s insights have proved enlightening in the past. Her general knowledge rivals my own, but when it comes to understanding deviant behavior she leaves me in the dust.
“I think she’s compulsively doing what she couldn’t do for herself as a child,” Lily said, “protecting the innocent from predators. She’s probably projecting her own childhood persona onto the children she’s trying to rescue.”
While listening to Lily, I developed a clearer picture in my mind of what was motivating Nina, and I began to feel sorry for her.
Eventually the conversation turned to the predators Nina was killing.
“Genuine pedophiles are driven by an uncontrollable impulse,” Lily said, “that can only be managed with medication, or castration.”
“Jeez.”
“Yeah. Some states have begun enforcing mandatory medication, also known as chemical castration, as a condition of parole for habitual sex offenders. California is one of them, but it’s difficult to enforce. There are civil rights issues, and the side effects of the drugs are unpleasant.”
“Like what?”
“Well, they’re designed to reduce testosterone production, but they also cause fatigue, depression, and excess salivation. Testosterone isn’t what makes someone a pedophile, but it does make you hostile and horny. I’ve been a lot more mellow since the sex change.”
By the end of the evening my mind was spinning with all the new information Lily had imparted.
Buddy and I were halfway down the dock to my boat when he stopped in his tracks and spun back toward shore. I didn’t even bother trying to restrain him, I just hung onto the leash and let him drag me back up to the parking lot to meet Bill. It was just like old times, except for the fear in my gut.
When we were all onboard the boat I opened two bottles of Guinness, handed one to Bill, took a pull from my own, and said, “Tell me about these ground rules.”
Bill looked at me for a long moment. “You don’t lie to me about anything, ever, and I won’t jump down your throat when you do something I don’t approve of.”
“You think you can stick to that?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Okay. Deal.”
I offered my hand and he shook it. Then he leaned over the galley counter and kissed me so tenderly that it made my heart ache.
“Did you talk to Interpol today?” I asked, reeling slightly from the kiss.
“I did.”
“What did they say?”
“They were very interested in the details of the homicides we’re attributing to Nina. I sent them copies of everything we’ve got on her. By the way, there was garlic oil on the knife used to kill that couple in Amsterdam.”
“I knew it!”
We went to bed early and slept intertwined with Buddy at our feet.
Friday morning I was up at 5:00. I pulled on a pair of sweats, filled a thermal mug with coffee, and drove to the gym.
I started with an aerobics class, then used the free weights and the upper body equipment, did sit-ups and pushups, and topped it all off with the StairMaster.
I showered in the locker room and talked to my workout buddies while I was drying my hair. I was feeling optimistic about life and more than a little relieved that Nina was now Interpol’s problem, and not mine.
When I got back to the boat Bill had already walked Buddy and made breakfast. Another good reason to have him around. He was domestic and I was not. I had some scrambled eggs and only one slice of bacon, with two cups of coffee. We watched CNN over breakfast, both of us waiting for any word of Nina’s next victim, but there was nothing.
Bill left for work at 7:45, and I did the breakfast dishes before walking Buddy up to the office.
I had a voicemail message from J.V. saying Scott’s interview had gone well and that the trial adoption peri
od would begin next week. He was coming back this weekend for another visit, and wondered if he should book a hotel room.
I called him back and he answered after two rings.
“Trusty and Associates.”
“Bill and I made up,” I began. “So he’ll probably be on the boat with me this weekend. Do you still have the house key?”
“Yep.”
“You want me to pick you up at the airport?”
“Not necessary. I’m renting a car. Did you figure out how much I owe you?”
“I haven’t had a chance. I’ll do it this morning. Call me when you get here. I’d like to tell Scott about Nina and I think it might be easier for him if you’re there when I do.”
“Good idea.”
After I hung up I decided to give Jim a call. He was out on a surveillance, so his receptionist patched me through to his cell.
“What did you think of Detective Harding?” I asked, after the usual pleasantries.
“The guy’s an asshole.”
“Did he tell you he was taping your interview?”
“He didn’t say anything about it, so I asked. When he wouldn’t answer me I insisted that it be taped. Then he showed me the hidden recorder, which had been running the whole time.”
“What the hell?”
“The man has control issues.”
I let Jim get back to work and pulled up my Nina surveillance schedule on the computer. I calculated the number of hours my friends and I had put in following her, added in the time we’d spent following sex offenders, and some of the time I’d spent doing research and talking with Scott. Then I divided the hours in half and multiplied them by my usual rate. It still looked like too much money so I rounded it down to three thousand dollars. I printed up an invoice and tucked it into my purse.
Around noon I remembered I was supposed to have dinner with Elizabeth and Jack. I called Bill and asked him what he was doing tonight.
“Can’t wait to see me?”
“Well, yeah, but I’m having dinner with Elizabeth and Jack in Hillsborough and I was wondering if you’d be available to sit with Buddy, so they don’t have to lock K.C. up.”
I couldn’t invite Bill to join me at dinner because Elizabeth had told me Jack planned to broach the subject of me being his best man tonight, and Jack is uncomfortable around Bill.
“What time are you leaving?”
“Six-fifteen?”
“I’ll be there by six.”
“Thanks.”
I was smiling when we hung up.
Buddy and I walked to The Diving Pelican and ordered a Feta Salad to go, taking it back to the office so I could watch CNN while eating. Nina had killed eleven people that I knew of, and there were probably a few I didn’t know about.
At four-thirty Buddy and I hiked half a mile into the wildlife refuge and back. Then we strolled down to the boat and I showered and changed into a pair of stretchy jeans in preparation for Ilsa’s cooking.
Bill arrived at 5:45, and I was happy to see him. It was kind of like starting a new relationship. I hated to leave, but I did.
I was in Hillsborough by 6:20. The gate had been left open and I motored inside.
K.C. was positioned in the middle of the driveway, about ten yards from the front of the house, so I was forced to stop. I got out of the car and scratched behind his ears. He purred and rubbed his face against my legs. I picked him up and walked to the front door, which opened before I could knock. Elizabeth smiled up at me.
“You have security cameras, don’t you?” I accused.
“Jack had them installed last week,” she said.
I stepped inside the foyer, handed K.C. to Elizabeth, and closed the door behind me.
Jack came into the foyer carrying two glasses, one of which he offered to me. I sniffed it. It was tequila and soda, just the way I like it. Enough tequila so I can taste it, but not enough to knock me on my ass.
“Thank you, Jack.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
We all paraded into the living room where Ilsa had set out a tray of antipasto. I picked up a wafer thin slice of prosciutto wrapped around a wedge of asiago cheese. I pinched off the end and fed it to K.C. before popping the rest into my mouth.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Homemade venison sausage,” Jack said. “With sauerkraut and scalloped potatoes.”
“Oh my God. Ilsa makes her own sausage?”
“She’s very hands-on.”
“Lucky you.”
“She can’t wait to cater the engagement party,” Elizabeth said, and she gave Jack a gentle nudge.
“Speaking of the wedding,” he began, and cleared his throat. “I have something to ask you, Nikki.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“I’m not very good at this kind of thing.” He hesitated.
“Oh honey, just say it,” Elizabeth prodded.
He said something to her in Gaelic, and she giggled.
“Will you do me the honor of being my best man at the wedding?” His face was flushed and I realized I’d never seen Jack so ill at ease. I was touched.
“I’d love to be your best man. Does that mean I get to throw you a bachelor party?”
“No strippers,” Elizabeth piped up. “I mean it! No exotic dancers of any kind. ”
“What about porn?”
Jack muttered something else in Gaelic and rose to refill his glass. “You want another?” he asked me.
“After dinner.” I turned to Elizabeth. “Bill and I had a talk.”
“And?”
“He has ground rules.”
“Uh oh. What are they?”
“I don’t lie to him and he doesn’t climb up my ass when I do something he doesn’t like.”
“Good luck with that.”
Dinner was superb, as always. Over dessert of strawberries and cream, I asked Jack who he would like me to invite to the bachelor party.
“The wedding is a year and a half away,” he said.
“It’s never too soon to start planning.”
“I don’t have any male friends here.”
“What about Bill?”
“You think Bill considers me his friend?”
“He likes you. He just objects to your former occupation.”
“I guess you could invite Bill. But I draw the line at watching porn with you.”
In fact, Jack and I had watched five videos involving girl-on-girl action last August when I was working on a case for him. Unfortunately, they were evidence, and someone was killed at the end of each home movie.
“You’re not leaving me a lot of traditional bachelor party options, here,” I complained. “It’s supposed to be a celebration of the end of your life as a stud.”
“No,” said Elizabeth. “Jack will always be a stud, but now he’s my stud.”
“Maybe we should elope,” Jack said.
“Not a chance,” said Elizabeth. “You can have a few drinks in that nice little Irish pub on Fifth Street in San Francisco. What’s it called?”
“The Chieftain?”
“That’s the one. And you can smoke cigars and talk about all the girls you’ve loved before.”
“You can’t smoke in bars anymore, remember?” I said.
“I’ve never loved a woman before,” said Jack.
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Elizabeth cooed.
“Maybe I’d better leave you two alone.” I collected my jacket and my purse.
“Any news on Nina?” Elizabeth asked, walking me to the door.
“I haven’t heard anything since the two murders in Amsterdam. Did I tell you about those?”
“Um, no.”
“Sorr
y. It was on CNN. A man and woman were killed. They were suspected of trafficking in the exportation of minors for sexual exploitation. They were both stabbed, and the knife wounds had garlic oil in them.”
“Oh my God! She’s in Amsterdam?”
“Well, she was.”
I hugged Elizabeth, and before stepping outside I asked, “Should I invite Joachim to the bachelor party?”
“That’s a lovely idea.”
I arrived home to find Bill and Buddy asleep on the pilothouse settee. CNN was on. I glanced at the screen, grabbed the remote, and cranked up the volume.
“Hey,” Bill sputtered, “When did you get home?”
I sat down beside him and silently pointed at the TV. The anchorwoman was saying something about another man who had been on Interpol’s watch list. His name was Fu-han Cheung and his body had been found in an alley in Guizhou early this morning.
Bill and I looked at each other. He put his arm around me and sighed. “I’ll call Interpol again tomorrow.”
Chapter 48
After the murder in Guizhou, Nina had apparently killed six more people. Those being reported included one in Chittagong, two in Lisbon, one in Burma, and two in Tijuana. The last reported killing had been more than a week ago. I had been watching CNN every day and there had been no additional garlic murders, so either she had changed her M.O., she was taking a break, or she had finally given up her vendetta.
J.V. and I had told Scott about Nina after the Guizhou murder. He had cried, convinced his mother’s death was his fault. We did our best to talk him out of that, but with limited success. I’d taken him to see my friend and therapist, Loretta Dario, a couple of times, and he seemed lighter when I picked him up after each visit.
Scott had moved to Seattle with J.V. a few days before Christmas. Not surprisingly, his grades had improved, and J.V. told me he had two friends who came over almost every weekend.
