Women's Murder Club [08] The 8th Confession

by James Patterson

  “Sit down, Phil,” Duffy said.

  Hoffman sat in the second armchair, asked, “Did you hear from the jury?”

  Yuki had already concluded that at this point Hoffman would be as happy with a mistrial as he would be with an acquittal. He’d spent too much time on this case. If there was a mistrial, his client would be released — and he could go back to getting paid.

  “I’ve got bad news,” Duffy said. “There was a fight at the jail.”

  “What happened?” Hoffman asked.

  “Your client acquired a girlfriend over the last couple of weeks, and as I understand it, her girlfriend already had a girlfriend. There was a fight in the showers, and Stacey Glenn lost,” Duffy said. “Ms. Glenn’s girlfriend grabbed her around the neck, the other girl grabbed Stacey around the waist, and they both pulled.”

  Duffy shook his head as they all imagined the scene, but Yuki still couldn’t visualize what had been so terrible.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t get it, Your Honor.”

  “My fault. I’m not explaining this well. Stacey Glenn’s head was separated from her spinal cord.” He put a hand around his own neck, said, “The neck itself — the muscles and so forth — was still in place, but the spine was severed. Medically speaking, Ms. Glenn suffered an internal decapitation.”

  “I’ve never heard of an internal decapitation,” Hoffman said.

  “First for me, too, but that’s what I got from the Department of Corrections, based upon their autopsy findings, and I quote,” Duffy said, reading from a notepad, “ ‘Those stupid bleeps turned Stacey Glenn into a bobblehead.’ ”

  Yuki stood up, stumbled out of Judge Duffy’s office, kept going even as Phil Hoffman called her name. She went for the stairs, kept a firm grip on the handrail as she wobbled down the steps, thinking about how the case had ended.

  By the time she reached the lobby, she knew that she had to get ahold of Parisi. They had to really think through what they would put out to the public, and he had to handle it, because it wouldn’t be right to let the public see her almost irrepressible elation.

  Stacey Glenn had gotten the death penalty.

  No conviction, no dismissal, no mistrial. This was the ultimate resolution.

  It was over.

  Yuki had not lost her case — and the sociopath Stacey Glenn was dead.

  Part Four

  DOC

  Chapter 76

  CINDY AND I were at Susie’s early in the evening, and even at six p.m., the Caribbean- style eatery was jammed.

  Crazy jammed.

  The steel band was in midset; Susie was drumming up a limbo competition; rowdies, sloshed on tequila, were falling all over the pool table; and Lorraine, who is usually prescient when it comes to timing, had lost her touch.

  She took our drink order, came back to read us the specials, came back again to show us her engagement ring, then returned to ask if we had everything we needed.

  That was in the first five minutes.

  I glared at her until she recoiled and scurried away. Claire and Yuki would be arriving at any moment, and I still hadn’t had it out with Cindy.

  “Stop beating around the bush, will you?” said Cindy, my dear friend. She put a little burn on it so that it sounded like a dare.

  “Fine. Are you and Conklin dating?”

  “He told you? Look, it didn’t start that way, but —”

  “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “Excuse me, but who are you? Sister Mary Margaret of the Little Sisters of the Chastity Belt?”

  “Yes, damn it. I am.”

  “Why? What is your problem?”

  I held up my empty beer mug so that Lorraine would bring me a refill.

  “Corona coming up.”

  “Lorraine,” I said, “listen to this. Cindy is sleeping with my partner, and she didn’t tell me.”

  “ Uh-huh.”

  “Well, don’t you think that as my friend, she should have told me?”

  “Oh, no you don’t, Lindsay,” said Lorraine. “Don’t you drag me into this. I’m a very happy girl right now and I don’t want a beef with either one of you.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Hit me again.”

  “Be right back.”

  “You’re kidding, aren’t you, Lindsay? You think I should’ve told you that I was going out with Rich when I knew all along you were going to make us both feel bad about it — and I don’t even know why!” Cindy sat back in her seat and did, in fact, look confused.

  “You don’t know why?” I said. I was getting a swooping feeling in my stomach, telling me that I was wrong and she was right, that I had been uncool. And that whatever Cindy and Rich were doing together, it was their business.

  Cindy didn’t know much about my history with Rich, and I wasn’t going to tell her — but maybe he would tell her.

  Maybe he had.

  Some hesitancy must have passed over my face because Cindy smelled blood. She leaned forward, stuck out her chin, and said, “I get it. Are you two doing it, Lindsay? Is that it? You tell me right now, because if you’re sleeping with him, I will kick that dog to the curb.”

  “No. No. We’re not. Don’t want to and never have.”

  “Good,” Cindy said. “That’s really great. So tell me again: what’s the problem?”

  “It’s a chain-of-command thing, Cindy —”

  “Are you ca-razy? I don’t work for you.”

  “Conklin does! And he and I talk about stuff that you shouldn’t know — for all our sakes. And I would have liked a chance to remind him.”

  “Even if that made sense — which it doesn’t — we don’t talk about you. We don’t talk about your cases. We just have great sex and watch movies in bed.”

  My face heated up, and I dropped my eyes to the table. Cindy had just given me way too much information, and I’d completely brought it down on myself.

  My beer was climbing into my throat when I heard, “Hey there, girlfriends.”

  I looked up to see Claire clearing the aisles as she came toward our table. She had her baby in her arms, my goddaughter, Ruby Rose. And Yuki and Doc were bringing up the rear.

  “I’m not finished talking yet,” I growled at Cindy.

  “Fine,” Cindy said. “Don’t make me wait too long for your apology.”

  Chapter 77

  YUKI WAS ALMOST giddy with delight.

  They were all jammed together in the booth at Susie’s, and her friends liked Doc. Correction. She could tell by their faces that all of them loved him. He was telling them about his day in the ER, saying, “A female patient comes in, says she’s been doing unaccountable stuff at night since she started taking sleep meds. Apparently she unwittingly went to her medicine chest and swallowed down a whole bottle of pills.

  “She shows me the empty bottle,” Doc said.

  Claire leaned forward, Yuki getting this great feeling that Claire was glad to have another doctor to talk to. She asked Doc what the pills were.

  “Dramamine.”

  “For seasickness?” Claire said. “Those can’t kill her.”

  Doc grinned, said, “She wanted to have her stomach pumped, but I just told her it wasn’t necessary. I said, ‘Helen, you’re all set. Book a cruise!’ ”

  Claire started laughing, and the baby reached out, knocked a bottle of beer into Cindy’s lap, and Lindsay broke up, laughing until tears came out of her eyes.

  “I’m sorry for laughing,” Lindsay said to Cindy. “No, I mean it. It’s not funny.”

  Claire handed the baby to Doc so she could wipe Cindy down, and the baby pulled on Doc’s nose and called him “Boog-ah.” And he laughed at her, and she gave him a gummy chortle.

  And the evening just kept coming on that way, one laugh leading to another even bigger one, Yuki feeling like it was her birthday, maybe the best birthday she’d ever had.

  She told her friends about the Stacey Glenn case being over, and Lindsay launched into the story of the “snake who would not die,” Claire expa
nding her arms to show how long the animal was, coming dangerously close to knocking a beer into Cindy’s lap again.

  Doc had said, “But seriously, folks, it’s good to know what kind of snake it was. There’s an antivenin, you know.”

  “Antivenom?” Cindy asked.

  “Same thing, but ‘antivenin’ is the actual term,” Claire said. “Anyway, it’s not that easy to get, though my patients are past needing it, Doc. Came in handy that Sergeant Boxer can swing an ax.”

  The beer kept coming for all but Doc, who inevitably had to go to the hospital. Then came the best part of all. As Yuki stood to say good-bye, he put his arms around her and kissed her, dipping her down until she cracked up and everyone cheered, everyone, even people who weren’t at their table.

  “See you this weekend?” he said.

  She nodded, thinking about what lingerie she would wear. And then he was gone.

  Right after that, Cindy said she had a date and had to go home and change, and Claire left, too: “Got to get this baby girl into bed.” And Lindsay said, “Yuki, you’re not just the designated driver, you’re the only driver.”

  Yuki didn’t want the night to end.

  “What if I drive you to my place? Why don’t you spend the night?”

  “Done,” said Lindsay, knocking back her beer.

  Yuki grinned. Having Lindsay all to herself, getting a chance to relive the evening and talk about Doc — well, that just put the icing on the cake.

  Chapter 78

  I STARTED YAPPING as soon as I got in the car with Yuki.

  “Doc is fantastic.”

  “You really think so? I mean, thanks, and yeah, isn’t he great?”

  “Amazingly great. And he really likes you.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “You just can. And then there was the Hollywood kiss in front of God and everyone.”

  Yuki laughed. It’s one of Yuki’s most priceless gifts, a laugh that can make the sun come out at night. Meanwhile, my mind was on fast-forward, and I couldn’t wait any longer. Had Yuki known? Had everyone known but me?

  As soon as the car was in gear and we were moving, I blurted, “Yuki, did you know about Rich and Cindy dating?”

  “Noooo. Really? I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!”

  “Exactly,” I said. “How’m I supposed to feel, my partner having sex with one of my best friends?”

  “It’s kind of a good match, though,” Yuki was saying, taking a left, the car speeding downhill, causing my stomach contents to slosh.

  “She’s always liked him,” Yuki said, “but who doesn’t? Wait a minute, Linds. Have I missed the obvious here?”

  I rolled down the window, and the wind hit my face. Yuki was asking me, “Do you want me to pull over? Are you sick?”

  “I’m fine,” I belched.

  “Okay, so what’s this about? Your partner’s dating your friend. Why is that a problem?”

  I rolled up the window, just left it cracked about an inch. “Rich and I. We’ve had a couple of moments,” I heard myself say.

  Yuki’s mouth dropped open as she headed the car across a straightaway, stopping at a light, then swiveling her head so she could look at me.

  “Define ‘moments.’ ”

  Suddenly I was telling Yuki everything: about the near miss Conklin and I’d had when a case took us to Los Angeles. I told her how we’d stopped before things went too far, and how the chemistry just wouldn’t let up. That it had been sparking even when my apartment burned down, when I’d moved in with Joe. Even a week ago when Conklin had planted a steamy kiss on my lips by the car.

  I was still talking when we pulled into the underground garage beneath Yuki’s apartment building. She shut off the engine and turned to face me.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “In love? I don’t know what to call it, but we have something special…”

  “So this isn’t about Cindy. This is about Conklin.”

  I shrugged.

  “You have something pretty special with Conklin that you have turned down repeatedly and have no intention of acting on, isn’t that right?”

  I was drunk and I was being interrogated by my friend the prosecutor. I had no defense.

  “We’ve talked about it,” I said. “It was my choice, and I’m glad that we’ve never done anything that would destroy Joe.”

  “So how do you feel about Joe? Tell me the truth.”

  “I love him.”

  “Prove it to me, because right now, I don’t get it.”

  I excused myself, got out of the car, walked over to the huge trash can by the elevator, and threw my guts up. Yuki was there with a Wet-Nap, an arm around my waist, a packet of gum.

  But she didn’t let me off the hook.

  We went back to the car and resumed our places, and she said, “Tell me the whole truth and nothing but.”

  I told her that when I’d met Joe it had been that thunderbolt right between the eyes, and it had been mutual. And since that day, Joe had never let me down. That he’d changed his whole life to be with me. That he was not only my lover but my best friend, too, the person I could be real with. That the only fear I ever had about my love for Joe was taking the next step with him, because it would be for good.

  “If we get married, I can never leave him,” I said.

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Yuki asked me.

  “It’s a scary thing.”

  “I’m no expert, but isn’t ‘scary’ appropriate when you’ve been traumatized? When someone you love has died?”

  I nodded. She was talking about Chris, my former partner and boyfriend who’d been gunned down on the job.

  Yuki reached out, took my hand.

  “Lindsay, it’s okay to have chemistry with Rich. You can’t help that. It’s fun, maybe, and cool to have someone with you all the time who has a big crush on you. You’ve already decided he’s not for you, but he’s your back door, your escape hatch, because you’re afraid to get married. Do I have that right?”

  Tears were coming now. Yuki tightened her grip on my hand.

  “Let him go,” she said. “Let yourself go.”

  Yuki held out her arms and folded me in. She’s a tiny thing and I’m an Amazon, but somehow that awkward hug was just what I needed. I was crying in earnest and Yuki was stroking my hair.

  “You know what I want with Doc?” she said. “Exactly what you have with Joe.”

  Chapter 79

  CINDY WAS AT her desk in the bull pen the next morning, scrolling through her notes in order to double-check her memory. Then she found it, the note she’d made of her impromptu interview with the girl who called herself Sammy, the strung out teen who’d mentioned that “people” had killed Rodney Booker, not one person but at least two.

  Cindy had felt haunted by that word — “ people” — sorry that Sammy had bolted before she’d followed up on what might have been a significant lead to finding out who killed Rodney Booker.

  Cindy called Lindsay again, this time leaving her a message thanking her for the sweetheart roses. Then she grabbed her handbag and left the Chronicle Building, taking the short walk to From the Heart.

  A homeless guy about her age, name of Angel, flashed his gold-capped smile and opened the door to the soup kitchen while giving Cindy a sweeping bow.

  “Hey there, Ms. Cindy Thomas. We named you the sweetheart of From the Heart. By popular vote.”

  Cindy grinned, asked Angel if he knew a girl named Sammy, and Angel said, “Sure, I know Sammy. She’s inside now.”

  Cindy searched the large room, finally seeing Sammy working behind the steam table, serving up lunch to the long line of street people. Sammy was wearing nice slacks, expensive layered tops in bright colors, her pale yellow hair neatly braided down her back.

  And although Sammy’s pupils were large enough to see from across the room, the teenager was clearly a volunteer, not a client.

  Cindy crossed to the steam table, said, “Hi, Sammy. Do you
have any time for me?”

  Sammy looked not just nervous but jumpy. “No,” she said. “I just can’t.”

  “Please.”

  “I can’t talk to you in here,” Sammy sputtered. “I’ll meet you at Moe’s in a half hour if you’ll leave now.”

  Cindy waited for Sammy at Moe’s, and after an hour went by, she ordered a grilled cheese on rye. As soon as it came, Sammy dropped into the seat across from her.

  “You’re too much, Cindy,” the girl said, shaking her head. “I warned you to watch out, but you just can’t leave things alone.”

  “I can keep a secret,” Cindy said, “but I can’t just drop this story.”

  “No? Well, my father has me under house arrest. He doesn’t want me talking to anyone, especially you.” The girl crunched Life Savers, ordered a Coke. “Classic,” she said to the waitress.

  “Why not me?”

  “Because you are looking to get yourself killed.”

  Cindy stirred her coffee, said, “See, this has me confused, Sammy. Why am I in danger? What’s so special about Rodney Booker that makes writing about him life-threatening?”

  “Because his killers aren’t street people, Cindy. His killers don’t want to be exposed, arrested, charged with murder.”

  Cindy said, “I need your help.”

  Sammy sat back in her seat, her eyes wide with fear. She said, “I need your help, too. I want to get away from here. Move out of town. But I have no money. I’ll make you a deal. Can you get me some kind of advance on that reward? Like ten grand?”

  “No way,” Cindy said. “That money is there until Bagman’s killers are convicted. I can get you a couple hundred bucks if that’ll help.”

  “Forget it. Thanks, but no thanks. I said I needed help, and by the way, screw you,” said Sammy.

  As soon as Sammy left the diner, Cindy paid the check and walked back to work. Sammy had finally gotten to her. The teenager’s fear could be druggie paranoia to the max, but Cindy was getting a different feeling — that Rodney Booker’s murder was tied to something bigger, something organized.