Blood Truth

by Matt Coyle

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “THAT’S HER. SOPHIA Domingo.” I didn’t volunteer my knowledge of the briefcase next to her body. Maybe later. Maybe not.

  I spun around from the horror and took a deep breath. Death still clung to the air around the car. I started walking toward the ramp that led down to the street. I would have run, if I could have trusted my legs. I wouldn’t have stopped until I hit the ocean a half mile away.

  “Mr. Cahill.” Detective Sheets’ voice stopped me. “I’d like to ask you some questions so we can get this investigation kick-started. Are you up for that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sergeant Meyers, could you escort Mr. Cahill down to the street and wait for me there? I’ll be down as soon as forensics arrives. Officer Gains, please secure the scene with crime scene tape and start a log to check in all personnel who arrive.”

  “This way, Mr. Cahill.” Meyers grabbed my arm like I might pass out any second and led me down the ramp. Either that or she was making sure I wouldn’t flee. She didn’t have to worry. My legs weren’t yet ready for the dash to the beach.

  “I’m okay, Sergeant.” I looked at her hand clamped around my arm, then at her face. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m not going to fall over.”

  “Okay.” She smiled and let go. “Just don’t keel over and then sue me and the department.”

  “No need to worry.” I smiled back. “If I wanted to sue LJPD, I would have done it a long time ago.”

  “I know who you are, Cahill. Let’s keep things civil.” She hooked her thumbs under her Sam Brown duty belt and flared her elbows.

  “That’s always my first option.” Mostly.

  A white van with La Jolla Crime Lab stenciled on the side rolled by and turned around the corner. Would the techs find enough evidence to target the killer?

  A knife. The massive number of stab wounds. The slashed throat. Frenzy. Overkill. Personal. My bet was that the killer knew Sophia. Even if Stone was maneuvering me in a game I’d never understand, I didn’t think he killed her. The crime was too hot. I’d seen Stone angry up close. Scary, but under control. He was petty and vengeful. But he processed grievances and slights like a computer collating data. When he struck, it was cool. Efficient.

  Stone hadn’t killed Sophia. Not by his own hands or by a hired killer’s. Too much anger. Too much blood. Then who? Sophia’s female mouth-kissing lunch date? Jeffrey Parker’s claim of innocence or not, Sophia had spent her afternoons in a robe and nothing else behind closed doors with men in an expensive hotel. That could get her girlfriend’s blood up.

  Parker was supposedly at a convention in Las Vegas. Easy enough to check out.

  Of course, there was Kim. Someone screwing your husband and stealing a chunk of the family business would enrage anyone, even Kim. Her body language during our talk in the office told me that she didn’t know anything about Sophia’s death. But, I’d misread people I cared about before.

  Detective Sheets turned the corner on the sidewalk. “Thank you, Sergeant Meyers. I’ll take it from here.”

  Meyers walked back toward the crime scene.

  “Mr. Cahill, can you run over the events of this morning again?” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen a couple times. “Do you mind if I record this conversation? It’s much easier than taking notes and lets me be fully engaged in our talk.”

  He could call it a conversation, but I knew it would be him asking questions and me answering them. His engagement would be solely directed at my body language. That was fine. I didn’t have anything to hide. Well, nothing pertaining to any potential guilt by me.

  “Fine.”

  He tapped the cell phone screen one more time, then put the phone in the top pocket of his blazer. I gave him the same story I’d given him on the roof. Including that I’d occasionally observed Sophia Domingo’s movements over the last week and that I had tried the doorknob to the staircase on the roof. Only leaving out my and Kim’s motivations for this morning’s meeting.

  “What were you investigating that brought you into contact with the woman in the trunk?”

  “That’s confidential between my client and me.”

  “I did a little homework on you while I was on the roof and found out that you work a lot of adultery cases.”

  “Among other types of investigations.” But his quick research had been good. After trying to do anything but, I still handled more cheating cases than anything else.

  “But the odds are, Mr. Cahill, that Ms. Domingo was in the middle of one of your adultery investigations. Correct?”

  “I had a talk with my client earlier, and she’s willing to discuss my investigation with you. After you talk with her, I’d be happy to elaborate on the case. I have a reputation to protect, Detective. I can’t break confidentiality until after you talk to my client.”

  “Yes. I learned a fair amount about your reputation in the last few minutes.” This time he tried on his cop glare. The grad-school smile was more authentic. “Did you ever talk to Ms. Domingo while you were investigating her?”

  “I didn’t say I was investigating Ms. Domingo.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I never talked to her or came in contact with her in any way,” I said.

  “During your investigation, you must have seen Ms. Domingo encounter other people, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d like you to make me a list of those people.”

  “You should talk to my client first.”

  “I don’t understand you, Cahill.” He finally dropped the deferential mister in front of my name. “You were a cop. So was your father. Don’t you want to help me put the monster who butchered that woman behind bars?”

  “Yes. After you talk with my client. Her name is Kim Parker and she’s right inside this office.” I nodded at the building.

  “Hopefully, she’ll be more cooperative than you.” He turned and pulled on the handle of the front door to Parker Real Estate. It was locked.

  I knocked on the glass. Kim unlocked the front door and opened it. Her eyes big. Mouth tight. Worried.

  “Kim, this is Detective Sheets and he wants to ask you some questions,” I said.

  “I’ll take it from here.” Sheets turned toward me. “Please stick around. I may have more questions for you after I talk with Mrs. Parker.”

  I didn’t want her to be alone with Sheets when he questioned her. Not because I was worried about what she’d say, but because I wanted her to lean on me if she needed to. Most people will never be questioned by the police in their lifetime. It can be unnerving, no matter how innocent you are. You never get used to it. Even hardened criminals get nervous, but they know how to hide the nerves better than most. Just like me.

  “I’d prefer to come inside as Mrs. Parker’s representative.”

  “You’re not an attorney, Cahill.” Sheets’ face turned red again. This time with anger. “Are you stating that she needs one? If that’s the case, maybe we should take this interview down the street to the station, and I can take turns questioning each of you at my leisure. Or maybe I should just arrest you for obstructing a police investigation.”

  The obstruction threat would have been a bluff from any police department but LJPD. They’d follow through just out of spite and put me in a cell for twenty-four hours. I wouldn’t be of any help to Kim there. I wasn’t any help to her now either. She hugged herself and color leaked from her face.

  “I’ll wait out here,” I said.

  “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Cahill.” Sheets entered the building and pulled the glass door shut behind him.

  I paced in front of the building, worried for Kim, but also for myself. I paced some more, then decided I had to rip the Band Aid off the scab. I went into my car and found a few more quarters in the console. Sheets had been talking to Kim for five or six minutes. Now or never. I went across the street to the pay phone and looked back at the roof of Parker Real Estate. The view was blocked by a
large pepper tree. I couldn’t see the cops up there, so they couldn’t see me. I dropped two quarters into the pay phone and dialed the number.

  “Sophia’s dead. The briefcase you gave her was in the trunk of her car with the body. The police are about to question me, and I’m going to have to tell them the truth.”

  “What’s the truth?” Stone’s voice, a dry ice hiss.

  “That you met her at The Pacific Terrace Hotel and gave her a briefcase and that she went to your house the night before she disappeared.”

  “What about our arrangement?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. If they ask me a direct question about it, I’ll have to answer truthfully.”

  “Why did you call to tell me this?”

  “You gave me a lot of money to find Sophia. I did. I figure it’s only fair that I give you a heads up about how things ended.”

  “The blue-collar honor? Is that it, Rick?”

  “Yes.” Sweat pocked my forehead. “And I’m hoping that since I’ve been up front with you, you won’t do something stupid.”

  “Dear, dear Rick.” The default cool menace from our earlier conversations returned to his voice. “I thought you knew me better than that. Whatever I do, it won’t be stupid.” He hung up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  DETECTIVE SHEETS OPENED the door of Parker Real Estate and leaned his head out. “Would you come inside, Mr. Cahill?”

  Back to grad-school student deference. I got off the bench and walked inside. Kim stood in the lobby, arms still crossed, but her face less tight.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine.” She gave me a weak smile.

  “Are you releasing me from our confidentiality agreement?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Cahill, Mrs. Parker has allowed us to use her office while we talk.” Sheets smiled like we were all friends again. “This way.”

  I followed him down the hallway while Kim stayed behind. Sheets waited inside the office and closed the door behind me after I entered. He went behind Kim’s desk and sat in her chair. I sat down opposite him.

  Sheets spoke into the top pocket of his coat that held his cell phone, identifying who was in the room and the date and time.

  “Tell me how you first encountered Ms. Domingo.”

  Kim had released me from confidentiality and we’d both agreed to tell the cops the truth. Still, I felt uncomfortable giving the police the specifics of a case. Especially this one.

  “I was following Jeffrey Parker when he met Sophia at The Pacific Terrace Hotel.” I gave him the date and time.

  “What did you observe at the hotel?”

  I told him about snapping photos from the beach of Sophia and Parker on the balcony of the hotel. The kimono, the wine, the hand on the leg, and the retreat into the hotel room.

  “Do you think Jeffrey Parker and Sophia Domingo had sex in the hotel room that afternoon?”

  “I don’t know.” I didn’t, but I had my suspicions, which hadn’t diminished just because Parker told Kim he and Sophia weren’t having an affair.

  “Of course, you can’t know for sure unless you were there.” Sheets glanced through the window in the door, then leaned toward me like he was sharing a secret. “But’s what’s your professional opinion tell you? You’ve worked a lot of these kind of cases. You must have drawn your own conclusion.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay.” Sheets leaned back in Kim’s chair and nodded. “Who else did you observe Sophia interact with in the course of your investigation?”

  “Peter Stone went up to her room in the hotel after Parker left.” I feared that Stone and I had different definitions of what stupid meant. “He had a briefcase with him when he entered, but not when he left. Later Sophia left the hotel with the briefcase.”

  “The same Peter Stone whose name is on buildings all over San Diego?” Sheets crooked his head and smiled.

  “Yes.”

  “Would you recognize the briefcase if you saw it again?”

  “Yes.”

  Sheets pulled out his phone and tapped the screen then reached it out across the desk for me to look at.

  I put up my hand. “If you’re trying to show me a crime scene photo of the briefcase in the trunk of Sophia’s car, I don’t need to see it.” Sophia’s body slashed to death was now forever etched in my memory. Just as my wife’s body on a coroner’s table was. And the dead bodies of friends I’d discovered. And every dead body I saw as a cop in Santa Barbara. And the four people I’d killed since. “I’m ninety-nine percent certain the briefcase in Sophia’s trunk next to her body is the same one Stone gave to her.”

  “Did she meet with anyone else while you were observing her?”

  “Yes. Last Thursday she had lunch with Dina Dergan at Fresco in Carlsbad.”

  “Who is Dina Dergan?”

  I told him what little I knew about Dergan Consulting.

  “One other thing, Dergan and Sophia kissed on the lips when they greeted each other at lunch.”

  “Maybe they’re sisters.”

  “It wasn’t that kind of kiss.” I was relying on Moira’s assessment, but she’d been pretty adamant about the intimacy of the kiss.

  “Oh.”

  I told him about Sophia attending the Coastal Commission meeting.

  “After the meeting, she went to Peter Stone’s house around five thirty.”

  “Did you follow her anywhere after that?” He was already working the possible time of death in his head.

  “No. My work for Mrs. Parker was complete.”

  “Anything else I should know?”

  Stone. The last person who hired me to follow Sophia. After she was already dead. But there wasn’t a paper trail to prove it. What if Sheets thought Stone hired me to find Sophia before she died? I’d be in his crosshairs along with Stone.

  “No. I think that’s everything.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Cahill.” Sheets stood up and handed me a business card across the table.

  “Call me if you remember anything else about Ms. Domingo or anything at all. Twenty-four seven. That’s how I’ll be working this case.”

  “I never had a doubt.” I walked over to the door to leave, but Sheets’ voice stopped me.

  “Oh, one last thing. Where were you Friday night from nine p.m. on?”

  “Home.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cahill. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.” Cop smile. Closed mouth and squinting eyes. “Or if we need some clarification.”

  I walked down the hall and felt Sheets’ eyes on my back. He could look all he wanted. The only thing I was guilty of was taking a job from Peter Stone. If he found out, I’d take it from there. Even if Sheets never found out, I’m sure I wouldn’t escape punishment for it. But the punishment wouldn’t come from LJPD.

  It would come from Stone.

  Kim stood in the doorway to the lobby talking to someone. The wall dividing the lobby from the offices blocked my view. Kim saw me and stopped talking. I cleared the doorway and saw Jeffrey Parker.

  I nodded to him. He glared at me. Detective Sheets’ voice behind me interrupted our greeting.

  “Mr. Parker.” He stepped through the doorway and extended a hand. “Thanks for coming down to talk with me. Let’s go back to your wife’s office.”

  Parker gave me one last mean mug, looked at Kim, then followed Sheets down the hall.

  “You okay?” I asked Kim.

  She looked down the hall at her office, probably to make sure the door was closed. She spoke in a low voice just above a whisper. “What did you tell the detective about Sophia?”

  “Just that she came up in an investigation I was performing for you.” I kept my voice low. “That I’d seen her and Jeffrey at the hotel.”

  “You didn’t tell him anything about her becoming a partner in the business, did you?”

  “No. He didn’t ask and I didn’t volun
teer it. I don’t have enough information to talk about the subject.”

  Kim let out a long breath. “Thanks.”

  “It’s going to come out, Kim. It would probably be better to volunteer it now than explain it later.”

  “I’ll think about it. Thanks, Rick.” She walked around the receptionist’s desk and sat down. I’d been dismissed without a hug and even a handshake.

  “Does the money really mean that much to you?” I stood in front of the desk and looked down at Kim.

  “What do you mean?” She asked the question, but her eyes told me she knew what I was asking.

  “You never had any money until you got your real estate license and started working for PRE. But you could have made as much anywhere else. You’ve earned your way, Kim. You can do it again. You don’t have to cover for Jeffrey.”

  “I’m not covering for Jeffrey, and it’s not about the money, Rick. It’s about family.”

  “You finally told him you’re pregnant?” Her husband, father of her child, the man she chose instead of holding out for me. She told me first, then him. But she was staying with him.

  “Yes. He cried. I’ve known him for four years and I’ve never seen him cry before. Jeffrey really wants to be a father. I’m going to have a baby. We’re going to be a family.” She crossed her arms, not to comfort herself this time. As a shield against me. “I’m not going to let anything get in the way of that. Not the police, not … anyone.”

  I was now anyone in Kim’s mind. A threat. Right there with the police or anyone else who’d try to get between Kim and her husband and, soon, child.

  I left without another word. Back to my life of almosts.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  JACK ANTON AND his wife lived in a quaint little green house with white lattice on Fourth Street in La Mesa. A short woman in her sixties answered the door. Fit. Natural shoulder-length gray hair. Crow’s feet creeping in on cornflower-blue eyes. She wore yellow slacks and a powder-blue blouse. A smile that would light up any room she entered.

  “Mr. Cahill?”

  “Yes. Please call me Rick.”

  “Then you call me Barbara. Now come on in, Rick.”

  I walked into a living room with original hardwood floors and twenty-year-old furniture. Instead of looking old and dingy, everything worked together. Norman Rockwell’s Americana. Tomato and basil smells wafted in from the adjoining kitchen. Tomato soup and not Campbell’s. Homemade. Even if I didn’t get anything of significance from Jack Anton, I’d get a nice lunch from his wife.