Cold Justice (Kali O'Brien series Book 5)

by Jonnie Jacobs

  There, again, was that look that made her skin tingle. “I know I didn’t,” he said. “But I wanted to.”

  <><><>

  “He’s a bastard.” Ruby blinked back tears. “All those months of putting my life on hold for him, arranging my schedule to please him, and he decides he’s not going to leave his wife after all.”

  “I don’t mean to rub it in,” Carla said, “but I did warn you that messing with a married man was trouble.” She was glad they were sitting in one of the booths at the back of the bar where it was quieter. What Ruby needed was simply to talk and cry a little.

  Ruby licked the salt from her margarita glass and took a large swallow, then another. “You told me many times in fact. I should have listened to you.” She took a trembly breath. “But I love him. What am I going to do?”

  That Ruby should have had more sense didn’t stop Carla from feeling sorry for her. Ruby deserved better than she had. She was sweet and trusting, and probably a little too eager to please, which was how she so often found herself shortchanged.

  The two women had been friends since third grade, when they’d discovered they had the same birthday and the same last name. They used to pretend they were twins, though with Ruby’s rich, Mediterranean coloring and Carla’s obvious Nordic heritage, they looked nothing alike. By the time they roomed together in college, they’d traded the twins fantasy for that of being psychically joined, which, to the extent Carla believed in such stuff, was pretty close to the truth. When Ruby broke her leg skiing last winter, Carla had had such a sudden, shooting pain in her own leg that she’d needed to pull over to the side of the road. And when Carla went into premature labor with Becky in the middle of the night four years ago, Ruby had dreamt that precise thing.

  Now Carla reached across the table and touched her friend’s arm. “I know it seems like the end of the world,” she said softly, “but you will get past it, Rube. And I predict you’ll find someone much better.”

  “You just don’t like him.”

  “I don’t like what he did to you. He never treated you with the respect you deserve, and he never cherished you the way someone who really loved you would.”

  Ruby drained the last of her margarita. “In the beginning it was really good. His wife was traveling a lot then. He took me places. And I don’t mean just out to dinner. I went to functions with him. I even met Owen Nelson. The man who’s running for governor.”

  Carla laughed. “I know who Owen Nelson is, Rube. Just because I spend days up to my elbows in PlayDoh and Sesame Street doesn’t mean my brain is completely fried.” Though there were times that wasn’t too far from the mark.

  “I didn’t mean that.” Ruby signaled the waitress for another drink. “It was a fancy party, lots of big names. He introduced me as his cousin.” She giggled. “Good thing no one saw us in the coat closet.”

  “What’s Owen Nelson like?” This was a far safer course than rehashing a failed affair.

  “Charismatic,” Ruby replied. “And genuinely nice. This was before he was running for governor, so I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to the political stuff. But I liked him. Still do from what I’ve read.”

  “Was he married to the actress then?”

  “I don’t think so. He was at the party alone.” The waitress brought Ruby a fresh drink, and she took a big swallow before continuing. “I’m half tempted to tell his wife.”

  “I thought she was dead.”

  “Not Nelson’s wife, silly. I’m talking about the asshole.”

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” Carla said dryly.

  “Don’t you think she deserves to know what a piece of shit she’s married to?”

  “There’s a certain logic to that, I guess. But you’re doing it to get even, not because you care about her.”

  “I could tell the whole world, in fact. Serve him right.” Ruby stood and tottered unsteadily on her feet. “I’m going to the little girl’s room. Don’t go away.”

  She bumped against the table next to them when she returned, then slid heavily into her own chair, glassy-eyed. Ruby was more than tipsy, Carla thought. She was bombed. “You’ve had enough, Rube. It’s time to go. And I’m driving you home.”

  “I can manage.”

  “No, you can’t. In fact, why don’t you spend night with me?”

  “And your perfect family? No, thanks. That would be rubbing salt in my wounds.”

  “Larry’s far from perfect.” The kids probably were too, but Carla had more trouble being objective where they were concerned.

  “He’s good in bed, though. You told me that.” Ruby’s voice was becoming loud. God, she was totally sloshed.

  “Let’s go,” Carla said. “I’ll drive you back in the morning for your car.”

  “You go on, I’m not ready.”

  Carla reached for Ruby’s purse and extracted her car keys. “You coming with me or you want to call a cab?”

  “Party pooper.” Ruby stood and staggered. She slung her purse over her shoulder. “But you’re taking me home, not to your place.”

  “I don’t know that you’re in any shape—”

  “Who appointed you chief of the tribe?”

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “I need to be alone.” Ruby gave her a pleading look. “Please?”

  Carla hesitated. “Okay,” she said finally, “I’ll take you home, but you should go right to bed.”

  They rode in silence through the nighttime drizzle. Ruby’s house was dark when they arrived.

  “Didn’t you leave a light on?” Carla asked.

  “I wasn’t thinking, I guess. Too busy crying.”

  “Shall I walk you to the door?”

  “Good grief, Carla. You’re turning into a mother hen. No point your getting wet too.” Ruby was fumbling for the door handle. She sounded angry.

  “I’m worried, is all.”

  “I’m not going to slit my wrists over him, if that’s what’s you think.”

  “It’s just that you don’t always take care of yourself, Ruby. Wasting all those years with a no-good—”

  “See, I knew it. You never did like him.”

  It wasn’t an argument she was going to win. “What time do you have to be at work tomorrow? I’ll drive you to your car. Any time after seven.”

  “I’ll take a cab.”

  “No, really, I’d like—”

  “Get off my back, will you?” Ruby’s mood had turned foul.

  Carla handed over Ruby’s key chain. “Sleep well, honey.”

  She watched Ruby weave up the path to the front door. She waited until the inside light went on, then drove home.

  Larry was already asleep. Carla tiptoed in and kissed her sleeping children, then brushed her teeth and crawled into bed next to her husband, who may not have been perfect, but was a darned nice guy. She sometimes envied Ruby her freedom, but she wouldn’t have traded places for all the money in the world.

  Two hours later she awoke from a sound sleep, drenched in sweat. Her heart was racing. She must have been dreaming, she told herself, though she couldn’t recall what the dream was about. She sat up in bed, feeling light-headed. The panic gripped her as much now as that moment she’d first awakened.

  Then it came to her—she’d heard Ruby calling her name. Most definitely a dream. Still, Carla got out of bed and peered outside. The rain was coming down heavily now and wind whipped through the trees. Maybe that was all she’d heard.

  No, it was Ruby’s voice. Carla felt sure of it.

  Knowing she was being foolish, she went downstairs and phoned. Didn’t friends have the right to overreact sometimes, because they cared?

  The machine picked up.

  “Ruby are you there? It’s me, Carla.”

  No answer.

  Maybe she was still angry with Carla. Or sleeping so soundly she hadn’t heard the phone. Carla remembered how Ruby passed out and snored when she drank too much.

  Carla would have to needle her about it when Ruby
was in a better humor.

  CHAPTER 31

  It rained heavily during the night, a pounding storm that woke Kali with its energy. By morning, however, she was heartened to find only a light sprinkle falling. Though the paper promised afternoon clearing and dry weather for the remainder of the week, she wasn’t going to count on it. Kali found the Chronicle’s forecasts were wrong as often as they were right. She’d been told, by someone who claimed to have heard it from a reliable source, that the entire weather page was written and produced in a windowless cubicle in the middle of Nebraska. No doubt by the same people who penned messages for fortune cookies.

  Clouds of misty gray hung over the bay, obscuring her view of San Francisco but imbuing the horizon with an almost ethereal, dreamlike quality. She sipped her coffee and contemplated the day ahead of her.

  With the discovery of Jane Parkhurst’s library card, Kali was filled with a renewed confidence about proceeding with the case against Lancaster. She felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

  She’d been afraid the DA’s office would come under fire if they didn’t prosecute, but stood little chance of prevailing in court if they did. What people didn’t understand was that identification of a suspect was only one step in the criminal justice process. The prosecutor still had to find the evidence sufficient to charge him, and the jury had to find it sufficient to convict. Only then was justice served.

  She took the last swallow of coffee and put her cup into the dishwasher. Too bad she had a dentist appointment that morning. Not only would she rather be just about any place on earth than the dentist’s chair, but she was also eager to talk to the detectives and find out if they’d turned up anything more that might tie Lancaster to the crimes. The stronger the evidence against him, the more likely it was he would enter a guilty plea. Especially if she could convince Owen to offer a deal that spared Lancaster’s life.

  Then they could put the whole awful mess behind them.

  <><><>

  When she arrived at work later that morning, one side of her face still numb from her visit to the dentist, Kali saw Gloria gesturing to catch her attention. On the phone she was saying, “Wait a sec, here she is right now.”

  Kali gave her a questioning look. Gloria knew better than to put her on the spot like that unless it was important.

  “It’s Detective Keating,” Gloria explained, covering the receiver with her hand. “Do you want to take it in your office?”

  “Tell him I’ll be right with him.” Kali felt a tingle of anticipation at the call, and not just because he might have news about the search of Lancaster’s apartment. She’d spent most of yesterday afternoon mentally choreographing different conclusions to Bryce’s visit—conclusions which almost always ended up in the bedroom—and wondering if he were doing the same.

  She picked up phone without taking off her coat.

  “We’ve got something here you should see,” he said without preamble.

  The tingle became lead. It was a business call. “Are you at Lancaster’s apartment?”

  “No. A house in the Dimond district.” He gave her the address. Flat and cool, as if they were strangers.

  “You’re asking me to come there?”

  “Yeah, I think you’ll want to see this.”

  Kali wasn’t sure what to make of the cryptic responses. “You going to tell me what this is about?”

  “Might be better if you saw for yourself.”

  She felt a flicker of annoyance. She had a busy morning and was already behind, although she conceded that wasn’t actually Bryce’s fault. It wasn’t his fault she’d been hoping for something different from the call, either. Still, why couldn’t he tell her what they’d found and let her decide for herself how important it was?

  “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly, “I’ll head over there now.”

  Bryce thought it required her attention, and that ought to be reason enough. Kali scooted her briefcase under her desk and retraced her steps, explaining to Gloria that she was going out again.

  The address he’d given her was at the end of a cul-de-sac. The house was single story with a wide front porch and what looked to be wisteria twisting its way along the roofline. A white picket fence spanned the front of the property, set off by pansies and sweet alyssum. The house, like the others on the street, was small and showed signs of age, but it was clear the owner was trying to emulate the English country cottages that graced the covers of so many home magazines.

  The scene was far from idyllic, however. Kali’s stomach knotted at the sight of yellow crime scene tape securing the perimeter of the yard and the small crowd of neighbors gathered on the far side of the street. But there was no ambulance or coroner’s van parked anywhere nearby. And only a single police car other than the detectives’.

  Kali ducked under the tape and approached the uniformed officer standing by the door. Bryce saw her and waved her inside, where an overturned floor lamp and shattered pottery pot put the hairs of her arm on edge.

  “There’s a body?” Her mouth was so dry she had trouble forming the words.

  “Not yet,” Bryce said.

  Her gaze fell on Lou Fortune, sitting across the room, cell phone pressed to his ear. “Not yet?”

  “Follow me.” Bryce led the way down a hall to the second of two bedrooms.

  Here, too, the English country look prevailed. A rustic pine-frame bed, with a coverlet of white cotton eyelet and a profusion of matching pillows. The dresser was antique pine and the two chairs under the window were made of an old-fashioned, tight weave wicker. The appeal of the room was marred, however, by the array of items carefully laid out on the bed. A slinky red beaded dress and, below it, garter belt, stockings, and backless heels. To the side were a pair of panties and a bra.

  On the pillow at the head of the bed was a yellow rose tied in a ribbon.

  It took a minute for Kali to absorb what she was seeing. Clothing laid out as though adorning a body. She swallowed against the unpleasant taste that filled her mouth.

  “There was a poem, too,” Bryce said.

  “Poem, and not a note?” In the past, the poem had come later, delivered to the media.

  He nodded and handed her a piece of paper in a plastic sleeve.

  Macy’s weekend crush

  An armload of bathing suits

  Pink bikini wins.

  “Not exactly haiku,” Kali said after reading it a second time. “But close.”

  “That’s what I thought. The syllables are right, even if the spirit isn’t.”

  Kali was impressed. “Who is she?”

  “Woman by the name of Ruby Wings. Twenty-nine, single, works in medical records at Kaiser. Her neighbor saw the front door of the house open this morning and thought maybe it hadn’t been latched properly, so she came over to check. When she got here, she heard a muffled sound like a dog whimpering, saw the overturned lamp and was concerned enough to call the police. The uniforms took one look and called us.”

  “You’ve looked through the rest of the house?”

  “Through it, under it, around it. The dog was in the bathroom. His muzzle was taped shut, but he seems otherwise unharmed.”

  “But no sign of Ruby Wings?”

  Bryce shook his head. “Her car’s gone, so maybe she wasn’t even here when this happened. Maybe she’s visiting her mother or something.”

  Kali thought that unlikely, and by the tone of his voice, so did Bryce. But a thread of hope, however fragile, was better than nothing.

  “Somebody’s having fun playing with us,” Bryce said after a moment.

  And it couldn’t be Lancaster. He was in jail.

  Kali’s chest was so tight, she could hardly breathe.

  <><><>

  Lou had a bad feeling about this whole thing. In some ways it was worse than an actual crime scene. There at least you knew what you were dealing with.

  He stepped around the broken ceramic vase and made his way down the hall. Kali had arr
ived while he was on the phone. Now she stood in Ruby Wings’s bedroom looking glum.

  “Ruby Wings hasn’t shown up for work today,” Lou said. “Hasn’t called in, either.”

  “And it isn’t like her at all,” Keating added, looking for confirmation.

  “Right. Maureen Oliver found her purse in the hall closet.”

  “Look like anything’s missing?” Keating asked.

  “Wallet’s there. Cell phone. All the basic stuff.”

  Kali drew in a breath. “Anything yet on the car?” she asked.

  “No accidents,” Lou replied. “That’s all we’ve got so far.” “I don’t suppose the neighbors saw or heard anything unusual?”

  Did she think they had superhuman powers? They’d only arrived at the scene fifteen minutes before her. “Not that we’ve uncovered so far,” Lou snapped, “but we’re just getting started.” He couldn’t help sounding defensive.

  “Woman next door saw her Sunday midday,” Keating added. “She was going into the house with a bag of groceries. A couple of the lights were on when the uniforms got here, so my guess is whatever happened, happened last night.”

  A voice called to them from the other end of the hallway. “Detectives, you’d best come take a look. One of the garage windows was forced.”

  Lou led, while Keating and Kali followed. They made their way outside, where a cement walkway abutted the attached garage. Lou noticed the campanula under the window had been trampled.

  “See this?” The uniformed officer working the shift was young and earnest. He gestured to the window frame. “Tool marks. From here, it would be easy entry into the house unless she locked the interior door. Most people don’t.”

  “Dust for prints,” Keating said. “And check the surrounding area both inside and out.”

  “Are we looking for anything in particular?”

  “Just the usual—footprints, fibers, cigarette butts, you name it.”

  Lou grunted. “The perpetual optimist.”

  “You got a better idea?”

  “I’m not criticizing, Bryce, just tossing in a dose of reality.” Truth was, Lou was becoming the perpetual pessimist. He didn’t like that about himself, but seemed unable to change it.