“Agreed. How’s your relationship with Linda these days?”
“We talk a lot on the phone. Sometimes she stops by the store. She’s not as forthcoming as she used to be, but barely a day goes by when we don’t at least text each other.”
“What does she hold back about?”
“Who she hangs out with. I think she’s afraid of being judged.”
“So she may be concealing people from her past?”
George considered the question. “I suppose.”
The saleswoman I had seen earlier appeared in the doorway holding a dress. “Hey, girl!” George said. “Hannah, meet Jules. Jules, meet Hannah.”
We exchanged smiles then Hannah walked to George and pointed to something on the garment. “Damn her!” George said. “Send it back to that shrew and tell her to use a lockstitch, which is exactly what I told her to do.” Hannah turned to leave, then George said, “Great job catching that, Hannah. I love you! If you ever quit, I’ll hunt you down and kill you!” Hannah laughed then walked out.
“I’m sorry,” George said. “What were you saying?”
“Linda came back into the picture before Jackie met Kate McCall?”
“Oh, yeah. A couple of years, I would say.”
“Do you have Linda’s number?”
George took out his phone, scrolled through his contact list, then wrote Linda’s number on a notepad and gave it to me.
“What about a boyfriend for Jackie? Any love interest?”
“Uh, not really—or not lately, I should say. She was dating this rich lawyer for a long time. I don’t remember his name, but I do remember he was somewhat older. She brought him into the store once. I didn’t like his vibe and warned her not to trust him. Boy, did I call that one exactly right.”
“What happened?”
“He turned out to be a sneaky little weasel. They had a huge fight. When she called me to vent I could tell she was getting all choked up, but wouldn’t allow herself to cry. I kept saying, ‘Just let it out, girl!,’ but she saw crying as the weasel winning.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Around the holidays. Before she went to California.”
“When did she leave?”
“Uh…shortly after the new year.”
“Would you say she was vulnerable to men?”
“Vulnerable?” George said, almost shouting. “Lord, no. She liked men but she didn’t need them. This lawyer worked his butt off to break through Jackie’s shell and win her over. She made him wait a good three months before sleeping with him. And that’s when the trouble started. She gave the weasel her heart and he stepped all over it.”
“Was he abusive? Did he threaten her?”
“She never said anything like that. But Jackie became blind to what a slimeball he was. Even though she found out he defrauded his own niece’s estate just to pay his taxes, she looked the other way because the charges were dropped. Now he supposedly rips off elderly people—legally—or something like that. It wasn’t until she found out he was having an affair that she finally woke up.”
“Anyone else close friends with Jackie?”
“There was someone from that dog and cat place, her name escapes me at the moment.”
“An animal shelter?”
“Yeah. I forgot what it’s called, but I know it was very important to Jackie. I think she gave them a lot of money. And Jackie has an adult son, Phillip.”
“Are you in touch with Phillip?”
“I saw him at the funeral, all grown up.” George’s lip started quivering. “But I was too much of a mess to talk to him.”
“What was Jackie and Phillip’s relationship like?”
“She did her best, for who she was.”
“Meaning what?”
“She loved him but mothering didn’t come naturally to her.”
“She didn’t want children?”
“Phillip was not planned.”
“So she hired a nanny.”
“Of course. She still had too much partying to do. He was a precocious kid, always way ahead of his years in maturity. One day he turned into a teenager. He decided he wanted to live with his daddy, the punk-rock drummer.”
“How can I get in touch with Phillip or his father?”
“The father OD’d on heroin. Phillip works at that animal shelter I mentioned.”
“He works there?” The image shattered my spoiled brat assumption.
“Yes. He organizes the volunteers or something like that.”
“Interesting. So I guess it’ll be up to Phillip whether Linda can stay in the townhouse and keep driving the Lexus.”
“I suppose.”
“Jackie made friends easily?”
“That’s a complicated question.” George looked away with a wry smile. “The short answer is yes. But a lot of them didn’t hang around long. Jackie was very possessive of the people in her life, be it friends or lovers. Her brutal honesty got on people’s nerves. She was just trying to help, but it had to be her way. She acted like you belonged to her. Jackie knows best, I used to say.”
George was giving me a lot to consider. I took out my notepad. “I hope you don’t mind if I make a few notes.”
“Not at all,” George said then chuckled. “My, aren’t we low-tech these days.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “Did Jackie get on Linda’s nerves?”
“Linda never said that.”
“What did you and Linda think of Kate McCall?”
George shook his head. “Oh, God, please. I feel sick just thinking about her.”
“Do you know the story of how Jackie and Kate met?”
“Kate worked at this little gourmet grocer where Jackie bought her fancy specialty cheeses. Kate stocked shelves, swept floors. That’s all white trash like her is good for.”
“Easy, George.”
“I’m sorry. I struggle with defending that hillbilly bitch.”
I had anticipated this reaction. “Look at it this way. You’re helping me ensure the prosecution will prove her guilt. That’s really all we’re trying to do at the public defender’s office. The evidence against Kate is overwhelming. We’re just going through the motions because someone has to do it. Why not me? I’ll take the money.”
My semi-bullshit response had the desired effect. “Jackie was the type to take in stray animals. She seemed charmed by Kate’s humbleness, her enthusiasm to help Jackie get something off the shelf or ask the boss about something Jackie needed. She works so hard and never complains, Jackie would say to me. She’s not dumb, just ignorant. And it went from there.”
“Jackie wanted to better Kate’s life.”
“She saw potential in Kate. God only knows what that was.”
“She became Jackie’s personal assistant?”
George rolled his eyes. “She did. And no, I wasn’t jealous. I didn’t have time to be anyone’s gal Friday. I own this place, you know.”
“When did you last speak with Jackie?”
“I think Wednesday evening she called me from Palm Springs—the week she came back. She was really pissed off because the renter had moved out.”
“She told you he had already moved out or was going to move out?”
“Uh, no, I think she knew he had already moved out.”
I wrote down George’s response then underlined it. “Did you know anything about this renter?”
“Nothing. I really had no interest in Jackie’s little scheme.”
“What do you mean scheme?”
“Oh, you know, the way rich people are always thinking of ways to get extra cash to stick in a safe. I thought Jackie was above that obsession to have more money.”
“So you knew she had a cash arrangement with the renter.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, if Kate is the killer, what was her motive?”
George’s face darkened. “I told her not to trust those people. They live by different rules. I’m sure Kate got sick of Jackie bossi
ng her around and Kate’s redneck brain took over. Maybe Jackie lost her temper and reminded Kate of her white-trash stock.”
“Ouch. Jackie really used those words?”
“Probably not.”
“Oh, uh, what about that guy at the concierge desk—”
“The transman.”
“Yeah. Freddie made it sound like Jackie had been a close friend. Before and after the transitioning started.”
George sighed. “You know, when Jackie first started talking about Felicia and the whole transitioning thing, my first thought was why would you want to get involved with this? Then I finally recognized this compulsion Jackie had to help people. But I think she saw it more as fixing them. Either way, Jackie must’ve sensed I didn’t care to know about her new Felicia/Freddie friendship, because she stopped talking about him and I didn’t ask.” George squirmed in his seat, glanced out the door. I said, “One more thing. How did you come up with the name Verkakte Fashions?”
George laughed. “That was Jackie’s idea. It means, ‘crazy, mixed-up fashions,’ she said. I could tell she really wanted me to use the name, so I did.”
Other definitions of “verkakte” included “crappy,” but I didn’t mention it.
Chapter 8
On the way home, Tamar called. “Oh. Em. Gee,” I answered.
“Dinner tonight, my place.”
“How’s that possible?”
“I decided to give the new manager a chance to close by herself. Be there around seven.” She hung up.
I had mixed feelings. Tamar lived with her ancient aunt, who scared the shit out of me. The poor woman fled Eurasian civil war only to have her son murdered in Chicago by Russian mobsters. Ever since, she’s spent her days staring at a candle illuminating an icon of St. Andrew beside a photo of her son. An equally ancient Georgian woman took care of her and kept the flame burning. On one occasion when I was convinced the aunt had died, my closer inspection provoked a guttural, prehistoric screech worthy of a Hollywood special effect.
I dialed Linda Napier’s number. A raspy voice answered on the first ring. Like George, she initially resisted meeting me.
“I was just at Verkakte Fashions. We had a great conversation.”
A long, wheezing smoker’s laugh prefaced Linda’s response. “I bet you did. You must be handsome. What did Georgie say about me?”
“He told me your name.”
“Uh-huh. And now you want to come over.”
“I don’t like to play hardball, but if you spoke to the prosecution, you have to speak to me. That’s the law.”
She fell for it. “Okay, whatever. Come over.” She gave me an address. “I’m home all day.”
—
The East Lincoln Park neighborhood shrieked stunning, coveted, hot! A small sign pushed into a flower bed announced Linda’s home security system. She seemed a touch unsteady standing in the doorway of her townhouse. Wedged into distressed acid-washed jeans, brassy-haired and leather-faced, she was beautiful but her beauty had a toxic quality. She welcomed me in with an exaggerated sweep of her arm. I didn’t notice any track-mark scars.
“Sit anywhere.”
I picked one end of the white couch; she slouched into the other end.
“How long had you known Jackie?”
“From day one.”
“Always close?”
“Always.”
“Were you friends with Kate, the woman arrested?”
Linda closed her eyes. I thought she fell asleep. “Kate scared me. I told Jackie I didn’t trust her. We tolerated Kate—barely. For Jackie’s sake.”
“We? You and George?”
“Me, George, everyone.”
“Why would Kate kill Jackie?”
Linda stared straight ahead. Even from the far end of the couch I could see her eyes filling. “She was a crazy hick who figured out where a bunch of cash was, and that was that.”
“Do you have any proof of what you just said?”
“She was always taking advantage of Jackie.”
“How?”
“Jackie paid for her apartment. Paid her to be a personal assistant.”
“That was Jackie’s choice, wasn’t it?”
Linda frowned. “She’s a sucker for pitiful creatures. The animals I understand. But that ignorant bitch wasn’t helpless. What a waste.”
“So why would she kill someone who was giving her all this money?”
The question annoyed Linda. “I told you! Kate saw a lot of cash in Jackie’s apartment, in Jackie’s safe-deposit box, the cash the renter gave her, the cash Jackie paid her. Jackie finally caught on that Kate was stealing.”
“How did you know the renter was paying in cash?”
Linda hesitated. “George must’ve told me. I can’t remember for sure.”
“How do you know about Jackie’s safe-deposit box?”
Another hesitation. “Because she told me about it. She said she kept cash in it.”
“I’ve met with Kate twice. Yeah, she’s not educated but she’s not stupid. She could’ve found ways to hide the money or move it around without drawing Jackie’s attention. The Kate’s-a-thief scenario you describe just doesn’t make sense to me.”
“You met Kate twice? While behind bars? Big deal. I have no doubt she had a vicious, unpredictable streak. She reminded me of a wild animal, skulking around. You didn’t know what could provoke her to attack.”
“And how would Jackie have incensed her?”
“Jackie was a very controlling woman. She didn’t just give you her money, she was buying you. But you can’t control a wild animal like Kate. Money to Kate was red meat, and she turned on Jackie just like I warned her she would.”
“How well do you know Jackie’s son?”
Linda’s face softened. She looked ten years younger. “I adored Phillip. He was so sweet. And so smart! An old soul, I used to tell Jackie. His father lured him away as a teenager, to hang out with his rock band. I saw him for the first time as a grown man at the funeral.” Tears spilled down her face.
“Tell me about Jackie’s love of animals.”
“Furry Best Friends Forever, the humane animal shelter. She gave them a lot of money. Volunteered, fundraised, whatever they needed.”
“Had she developed any close friends at the shelter?”
“Lucille. One of the execs.”
“Do you know anything about Jackie’s friendship with the concierge at her building?”
“I know only the little that George told me. And that includes George telling me that Jackie didn’t want to talk about her friendship with her—or him. We both thought the concierge was just another of Jackie’s little projects.”
“When did you last talk to Jackie?”
“Around Thanksgiving. Then she stopped talking to me. George told me she was leaving for Palm Springs after Christmas. I called her and left a message, but she didn’t call me back. It was her way of saying she wasn’t happy with me.”
“Why was she unhappy with you?”
“She didn’t approve of my life choices.”
“Did you know she was coming back early?”
Linda nodded. “Only because George told me. George kept me updated about Jackie.”
“Did she ever give you money?”
Linda didn’t like the question. “What difference does it make?”
“You said when she gave someone money, she bought them. Wanted to control them. It’s only natural a private investigator would want to know if you’d experienced this firsthand.”
“Yes, she was helping me financially. In fact, this is her townhouse. What are you really saying, detective?”
Linda’s attitude was getting the best of me. “Did she try to buy you, Linda? Control your life? Did she piss you off?”
“A friend never pissed you off?”
“Not enough to kill.”
Linda struggled to straighten up from the couch then grabbed a small glass bowl from the coffee table and threw it at me.
I lifted my arms just in time to deflect the bowl off my wrist before it struck above my right brow.
“You fucker!” Linda screamed. “You think I killed my best friend?”
I touched my forehead. Blood covered the tips of my fingers. Linda sat upright at the edge of the couch.
“I need a Band-Aid.”
“You bastard! Do you think I killed Jackie?”
“No, Linda. I was just trying to make a point.”
Linda walked away then returned with a handful of Band-Aids and dropped them on the coffee table. I grabbed a couple then started looking for the bathroom.
“When you’re done, just go,” Linda said. “And you’re crazy if you think I’d ever go to bed with you!”
Huh? I got the hell out of there. The rearview mirror worked fine for placing a Band-Aid over the cut. I couldn’t wash the blood off my fingers, but I didn’t care. Go to bed with her? Wrestling an alligator sounded more appealing.
—
I stood in the shower, hot water pounding my head. It was stupid of me to provoke Linda like that. Why couldn’t I resist being an ass? George and Linda were prejudiced against Kate’s Appalachian background. Dr. Kessler was slippery, but maybe that was my bias. Pretentious pricks like Kessler were great liars. I needed confirmation he hadn’t returned to Jackie’s apartment before Monday—then I could give him the benefit of the doubt.
The phone rang shortly after I dressed. “I got a break in the action,” Debbie said when I answered. “Got anything?”
“Yeah, first I went to Jackie Whitney’s apartment—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Just give me yes or no. We’ll meet later tonight.”
“I got a date at seven. Can you meet earlier?”
Debbie sighed audibly. “When?”
“Penguin House. About five?”
Prolonged silence. “Where is it?”
I gave her directions; she mumbled something then hung up.
Laptop over my thighs, I looked up the Furry Best Friends Forever website. I was familiar with the shelter because I had set up a pet trust for Punim using one of their brochures. As if on cue, Punim’s paws hit hard on the bedroom floor. She trotted toward me down the hall, the small pouch in front of her rear legs swinging side to side. I clicked on the link Purrfect Pusses, which opened to rows of cats waiting to find homes. Punim jumped up to the arm of the recliner and slowly hunkered down.
Doubt in the 2nd Degree Page 6
