As they headed back to the car, Keating muttered under his breath. “Tucson. No wonder there was no record of his arrest in California.”
At least Keating had taken her theory seriously enough to run the names.
<><><>
With Barry Silva, they were luckier. Not only was he not in jail, he was at home—a rundown apartment building near the Coliseum. He opened the door only a crack.
Silva was a slender man who looked to be in his late thirties. He had a pointy nose and wild, frizzy hair that made Kali think of the stereotypical mad scientist.
“Whatever you got, I ain’t interested,” he said.
Keating identified himself and slipped a foot inside the door. “We’d like to talk to you.”
Silva’s eyes flashed. “I got nothing to say.”
“You don’t really want to go that route, do you? Make us haul you downtown and all?”
“You got no reason to take me in. No reason to be here at all. You guys messed with my life once, you ain’t going to do it again.”
“Messed with your life?” Kali asked.
“That Bayside Strangler thing. Soon as I heard ‘bout those new murders, I knew you all’d be showing up here wanting to talk to me.”
“We’re just covering all the bases,” Keating explained.
“I ain’t got nothing to do with any of it.”
Keating nodded. “You know how it is, though. We have to check off all the boxes. Might be better if we had this conversation inside. More private and all.”
“We ain’t having a conversation,” Silva said.
Kali had to hand it to the man. He could hold his own.
“So what are you doing these days, Barry? You working?”
“Yeah, I’m working. Night manager at the Mobil station on Ninety-eighth Avenue. Go ahead and check if you don’t believe me. I got me an alibi for the night of them murders, too.”
A little too quick with the denials, Kali thought. “How do you happen to know what nights those were?”
He shot her a hostile look. “Was in the news, lady. You’re wasting your time thinking it mighta been me.”
“What about your brother Larry?” Keating asked.
“Larry’s dead. Crashed up his motorcycle about six years ago.” Silva laughed. “Got hisself an alibi, too.”
Keating’s pager went off just then. He looked down to check the number. “Let us know if you plan on leaving town,” he told Silva.
“Yeah, right.” In a tone that said, Screw you, buddy.
In the car, Keating pulled out his cell phone. Kali could tell from the eagerness in his voice that it wasn’t a routine call. When he disconnected, he turned to explain. “A Salvation Army salesclerk saw a man looking through women’s clothing. He took off without paying, and she followed him. Got a description of the car and a partial plate.”
“Do you have his name?”
“Not yet, but we will.”
It was only then that Kali realized she’d been holding her breath, afraid that the call had been signaling the discovery of another murder.
CHAPTER 23
Kali’s house wasn’t large or elegant, but it offered one real luxury: a west-facing wall of windows with an ever-changing panorama of the San Francisco Bay. It was a view that never failed to soothe her. As she wound her way through the darkness up the narrow road toward home, she was already looking forward to a glass of wine and the calming effect of shimmering lights against the evening’s blackness.
She was feeling oddly discouraged after the interviews with Silva and O’Dell’s stepmother. From a strictly logical perspective, it was foolish to have expected anything to come of the leads. If either man had been a serious contender in the Strangler case, the police would have followed up at the time. Or so she liked to think.
At least Keating hadn’t scoffed at her idea of looking at suspects in the Strangler case.
Keating. Bryce. His name brought a tingle to her skin.
Her thoughts stayed with Keating as she shifted into second for the hairpin turn near the top of the road. There was no denying the chemistry between them. Kali found him increasingly attractive, yet her head told her she was being ridiculous. He was nothing like the kind of man who interested her. Beer and ball games if she had to guess. A big-screen TV, maybe a car in parts in the garage. And a brashness that practically knocked you over. Not her type at all.
Besides, experience had taught her it was a mistake to mix business and social pleasure.
Kali turned left onto her own street. As the headlights swept the roadway, she saw a light-colored van pull away from the shoulder in front of her house. A visitor? The vehicle didn’t look familiar. She waited for a moment to see if the driver would turn around now that she was home. The van slowed for a moment about five houses down, then took off again with a squeal of tires. Clearly not anyone looking for her.
Funny, though, that it had been parked directly in front of her house. The road was narrow and winding, and there were better places to stop if you were going to one of the other houses in the neighborhood.
Loretta greeted Kali with her usual canine enthusiasm. She barked and danced at Kali’s feet, sliding on the polished wood flooring like a four-legged break dancer.
“I know I’m late,” Kali said. “Couldn’t be helped.”
Loretta rubbed against Kali’s legs. Instant forgiveness.
Kali poured food into Loretta’s bowl and added a bit of canned soup out of guilt. She poured the rest of the soup into a pot for herself, though it was a decidedly unappetizing prospect for dinner. Not that she had a lot of choice. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been to the grocery.
She was sorting through the day’s mail when a niggling memory dislodged itself from the back of her mind and smacked her between the eyes. The motion sensor light next to the driveway had been on when she rounded the corner to her street. It could mean nothing. That happened sometimes when a bird flew across its path, or a spider happened into the infrared beam.
But combined with the strange van, it spooked her.
The phone rang, and she jumped.
“Good, you’re home,” Margot said. “I’m hungry for sushi. Want to join me?”
Relief flooded through Kali, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Had she been expecting a call from the killer? She pushed the thought aside and glanced at the unappealing pan of soup on the stove. “I’d love to.”
“I’ll pick you up in about ten minutes?”
“Fine.” Kali hesitated, then asked, “Margot, did you see anyone here just a bit ago?”
“At your place?”
“Right. Outside. There was a van parked in front when I came home. It left just as I pulled up.”
“I didn’t see anyone, but I wasn’t looking either. You were expecting someone?”
“No. That’s why it’s odd.”
“Maybe a do-gooder collecting for world peace. See you in a bit. I’ll toot when I’m out front.”
<><><>
Though Miyako was crowded, they were eating late enough that there wasn’t the usual long wait for a table. They were seated right away and ordered without looking at the menu.
“I’m glad you called,” Kali said. “I’m overdue for a trip to the grocery.”
“It’s your karma, darling. I’ve never seen anything in your fridge but the basics.”
“That’s not true. I buy all sorts of stuff, then I never get around to using it and have to toss it.”
“Maybe you should take a cooking class.”
“I know how to cook,” Kali protested. It was just that the effort involved was usually more than she wanted to put forth. That was a downside of living alone. One of many.
Margot picked up her chopsticks and held them aloft in slender fingers capped with nails of deep sienna. As usual, a collection of bracelets jangled at her wrist. “It wasn’t meant as an insult. Besides, if you cooked more you wouldn’t be as eager to join me in dining out.”
“How did your date work out, by the way?”
“Randy? All he did was talk about himself and make lewd comments that I suppose he thought were romantic.”
“Not atypical,” Kali said dryly.
Margot rolled her eyes. “Men,” she said with a glint of amusement.
Kali laughed too, then turned serious. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“How did you decide to become a woman?”
“Wasn’t a matter of deciding, Kali. It’s who I am. Somehow I got stuck in the wrong body is all.” Margot paused, chopsticks held midair. “Not that SRS is an easy decision.”
“SRS?”
“Sexual reassignment surgery. I’ve been a woman now in every other way for close to three years. Longer than most doctors require. But I haven’t taken that final step.”
“It’s a big one.” Kali tried for noncommittal. She was more than willing to accept Margot as a friend, and wanted to know her better, but now that she’d raised the gender issue, she found she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the intimate details.
“The initial stages were actually the hardest,” Margot continued. “New ways of relating, having people treat me differently. And the hormones—” She laughed. “Don’t ever underestimate the power of hormones.”
“I can see that would be hard.” Kali tried to imagine presenting herself as a man. She had trouble enough changing hairstyles. She couldn’t fathom what it would be like to change genders.
“But also very exciting and liberating,” Margot added, then thankfully moved the conversation in a new direction—Nordstrom’s shoe sale.
After their meal, they browsed a neighboring bookstore, each swearing her to-be-read pile was too high to accommodate more books, and then buying a couple anyway. Kali was pleased to see that she and Margot shared an appreciation for many of the same authors. When Margot dropped her off in front of the house, Kali half expected to see the driveway light illuminated again, but it didn’t switch on until she triggered it herself.
She went through the greeting routine again with the dog, and took her for a quick evening walk. She didn’t think to check her messages until much later that night as she was getting into bed.
Nathan had called.
“Sorry I keep missing you. You’re not avoiding me, are you?” He punctuated the remark with a self-conscious laugh. “Hope you liked the flowers. A token thanks for a nice evening. I really had a good time.”
Kali played the message a second time. Straightforward and simple. Why, then, did it leave her with an unsettled feeling? Must be something to do with the damned flowers. She should have acknowledged them, however. It was the polite thing to do. She promised herself she’d call Nathan in the morning.
<><><>
Alex Nelson held the hand-rolled joint between his thumb and forefinger and took a deep drag. He held his breath as long as he could, looking away from Ben to keep from laughing. He had no idea why Ben was cracking him up tonight, but every time their eyes met, Alex was overcome with spasms of laughter.
Finally, he exhaled, glanced at Ben, and succumbed to a fit of giggles. “This is good stuff, man.”
“Yeah.” Ben reached for the joint. “Got it from my dad’s cookie jar.”
“Your dad smokes dope?”
“Not very often, but he goes only for the best. Like in everything else, top of the line.” Ben put his feet on the coffee table. “Guess your old man wouldn’t be caught dead with the stuff.”
“You guess right.” Alex giggled at the thought. “Thinks of himself as Mr. Morality.”
“Wouldn’t it be a hoot if he actually won this election? You’d be the governor’s son.”
“Spare me. I don’t think his ego can take getting any bigger than it already is.”
“He’s really that bad?”
Alex nodded. Ben’s dad might be a pretentious ass, but at least he treated Ben like a person. Alex sometimes felt like he was invisible where his own father was concerned.
“Now that he’s got Selby,” Alex added, “he’s so smug it makes me want to puke.”
“Must be weird having a famous father and a famous mother.”
“Stepmother.”
“Whatever.” Ben took another toke and held his breath while talking. “I saw that movie Stranger Next Door, the one that’s supposedly based on the Bayside Strangler case. Harrison Ford played your dad, right?”
Alex grunted. “Right. On top of everything else, now he thinks he looks like Ford.”
“Who cares? They’re both old.”
Old and phony. “The cops might have gotten the wrong man, you know.” Alex took another hit and fell into a fit of coughing. “Shit, that hurt.”
“You mean the dude they executed wasn’t the real killer?”
“Haven’t you heard about the two women who were murdered recently?”
Ben frowned. “They think it’s him?”
“Might be. My dad’s about ready to shit a cow. There goes the election, up in smoke.” Alex snickered. “Or down the toilet.” He stood up. “Man, I’ve got the munchies.”
“There’s some bread in the kitchen. Some cheese too, but it’s kind of moldy.”
“I got the munchies for ice cream. Let’s go to Fenton’s.”
“At three in the morning?”
Alex checked his watch. Ben was right. “Okay, so we’ll go to Safeway instead.”
“How are you going to do that? You’re stoned out of your mind.”
“It’s not that far. I can drive.”
“Oh, sure. I bet you can’t even walk a straight line.”
Ben was such an old lady. He was always finding reasons they couldn’t, or shouldn’t, do things. Half the time Alex didn’t know why he bothered to hang out with Ben. “I’m fine,” he said. “Look.” He stood on one leg and touched the tip of his nose with his finger.
“You’re supposed to shut your eyes, too,” Ben said.
Alex tried it with his eyes closed and listed to the left. Well, he wasn’t going to drive with his eyes closed so what did it matter? “Picture this,” he told Ben. “Jamoca fudge ice cream, chocolate sauce, marshmallows, nuts . . .”
“Okay, all right.” Ben fumbled with tying his shoes, and gave up. “You sure we should do this?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Two blocks from Ben’s house Alex entered an intersection and narrowly avoided hitting the car coming from his right.
Ben grabbed the dash. “Watch it.”
“I am.”
“Why didn’t you stop at the corner? I told you we shouldn’t have come out.”
“The stupid sign was hidden behind a bush.”
A block later, Alex saw red flashing lights in his rearview mirror.
“Shit,” he said.
Ben turned around to look. “Damn. Guess we won’t get our icecream.”
“Let me handle this.” Alex pulled to the side of the road and eased out of the car, steadying himself by holding on to the door.
The cold air on his face brought a moment of clarity. It had been stupid to drive when he’d been smoking. He didn’t need this kind of trouble.
“Let me see your license,” the cop said.
Alex handed it over, contrite and deferential. “Geez, officer, I’m sorry. It was so dark out, I didn’t see the stop sign until it was too late.”
“Stop sign?”
Alex backtracked. “Hey, maybe there wasn’t one after all. It would explain why I didn’t stop.” He laughed lightly, the way he’d heard his father do at parties.
“You were driving with your lights off,” the cop said.
“Oh.”
“You been drinking?”
“No, sir. Not a drop.”
The cop eyed him suspiciously. “This your vehicle?”
“Yes, sir. But it’s registered in my dad’s name. Owen Nelson.” Alex waited to see if the name had the desired effect.
“Nelson? The candidate for gove
rnor?” The cop seemed impressed. He looked at the license and back at Alex. “He’s a good guy, your dad. He’s going to get my vote.”
Alex tried for humble. “Sorry about the headlights, sir. My friend and I were just going out for milk and cereal. Guess with all the street lighting we didn’t even notice.”
“I’ll tell you what,” the cop said after a moment. “I’m going to let you go with a warning. But remember to turn those lights on.”
“Absolutely.”
“What about the ice cream?” Ben asked as Alex turned the car back in the direction they’d come.
“Forget it.”
“Oh, man. You got me craving ice cream and chocolate sauce. You can’t hang me out to dry now. Can’t we just—”
Alex snapped, “I said, forget it.”
“No need to get mad about it. You were cool. Real cool.”
And damned lucky.
CHAPTER 24
Lou was having a bad morning. He’d nicked himself shaving, hit his shin against the dresser and spilled coffee on his pants. Now the captain was reading them the riot act for not making better progress with the case.
“We’ve got public opinion to consider,” Burnell said, running his hand over the shining dome of his head. “Not to mention public safety.”
Lou leaned back in his chair, trying not to say something he’d regret. “We’re anxious to solve this too.”
Keating nodded agreement. Lou could tell from his partner’s posture that the captain’s remarks didn’t sit well with Keating either.
“Yeah, yeah, but I’m the one with city officials breathing down my neck. You have any idea what that’s like?”
“Not pleasant, I imagine.” Of course, that was why Burnell’s salary was what it was, which was a whole lot more than Lou’s.
“Not pleasant doesn’t begin to cover it. Everyone’s nervous as hell waiting for this guy to strike again.”
“That’s what he wants,” Keating said.
“Well, he’s certainly getting it.” The captain drummed the desktop with his fingers. “You think there’s any chance we’re dealing with the actual Bayside Strangler and not a copycat?”
Cold Justice (Kali O'Brien series Book 5) Page 18
