Cold Justice (Kali O'Brien series Book 5)

by Jonnie Jacobs

  Gomez looked momentarily stunned, but he was too smooth a showman to let it trip him up. He offered a supercilious smile. “Are you implying that I killed those women?”

  “You might have. Or had someone do it for you.”

  “Really, detective. Why would I do that?”

  “You’ve gotten a lot of publicity out of these murders.”

  “So have other people, including Owen Nelson and his buddy Jack Jackson.” Gomez laughed. “Of course the publicity Nelson’s gotten isn’t so good.”

  “It would be easy enough to check where you were when the murders took place,” Lou said. “To check transfers in and out of your bank account, as well.”

  The lawyer’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “You smear my name and I’ll sue you for everything you’ve got.”

  “You wouldn’t get much.” Lou offered a blatantly false smile. “Is it true that you and Tony Molina are old friends?”

  “We grew up in the same neighborhood in Los Angeles. . . .” Gomez stopped mid-sentence as the question hit home. “You think he’s behind this? Jesus, you are sick.”

  “The real sicko is whoever is killing these women.”

  “Well, it’s not me, and it’s not Tony. I can’t believe you even—”

  “You made a comment on the air earlier,” Lou said. “About a third victim.”

  “Did I?”

  Lou nodded. “What makes you think there’s been a third victim?”

  “I must have heard it somewhere.”

  “Yeah? Where?”

  Gomez ground out his cigarette. “Are you telling me the information is wrong?”

  “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “That makes two of us.” Gomez turned on his heel and went back inside.

  Lou watched him leave, and wondered. Maybe it wasn’t such a farfetched scenario, after all.

  <><><>

  Almost five o’clock, and the sky outside Kali’s office window revealed no hint of evening darkness. She was always happy when the shortest days of the year were behind them. Real spring might still be months away, but she felt relief that they were at least headed there.

  Working a knot in her neck with her fingertips, she looked again at the city map spread out on her desk. Today’s crime scene was in the southern part of the city, ten or so miles from either of the previous crime scenes, and even farther in terms of social climate and attitude. Inhabitants of the more advantaged parts of the city rarely made it to the tumbledown neighborhoods, and vice versa. Yet their killer was obviously familiar with both.

  He was also familiar with an undisclosed detail of the Strangler murders—the dog collar. In theory, that narrowed the field of possibilities. But it was also a troubling development.

  Kali reached into her purse for a breath mint and found the scrap of paper on which Nathan had written his number. Had she been too short with him this afternoon? Yes. No. Yes. How could she find him attractive and pleasant, and still feel there was something odd about him? Bad energy, she thought. How very California.

  Out of curiosity, she looked up the main number for Global Investment, called and asked for the personnel department. When the phone picked up, Kali asked to speak to someone about verifying employment. She was transferred to a woman whose voice was so flat, Kali thought at first she was talking to a machine.

  “Hello,” Kali said. “I’m with K&O Financial in Petaluma.” She used her own initials because she wasn’t quick enough to think of anything more clever. “I’m checking references on a former employee of yours who has applied for a job with us. A Mr. Nathan Sloane, who worked for your company until just last week.”

  “We no longer give recommendations or evaluations,” the woman told her.

  “Can you tell me if he left on good terms?”

  “Sorry, just dates of employment. Would you like me to check those?”

  “Please.”

  She put Kali on hold, which was actually a commercial for the company’s financial services. Kali listened to the loop three times before the woman came back on to ask, “What was that name again?”

  “Nathan Sloane.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, we have no record of anyone by that name.”

  “He transferred from Boston. I imagine he wasn’t with your office long. Would there be any way to check with the Boston office?”

  “We don’t have a Boston office. Only Los Angeles and the Bay Area.”

  “I see. Maybe I have the wrong information,” Kali said.

  “Or maybe this applicant hasn’t been truthful. I don’t know how it is in your experience, but we’re seeing that more and more all the time.”

  “So true,” Kali said obliquely. She disconnected, tapped her fingers on her desk, then called one of the office investigators. “I’d like you to check the registration on a cell phone,” she said and gave him the number.

  “Can you give us a day or two?”

  “Sure.” Returning the receiver to the cradle, she looked up to see Bryce Keating standing in her doorway. She hoped he wouldn’t ask about the call, hoped he hadn’t overheard the conversation at all, in fact.

  He regarded her from the doorway. “Got a moment?”

  “Of course. Anything more on Ruby Wings’s murder?”

  Bryce shook his head. “I talked to the salesclerks at Macy’s in Walnut Creek, where she apparently tried on the bathing suit. No one remembers seeing anything or anyone unusual on Saturday. Then again, they don’t remember seeing Ruby or her friend Carla either.”

  “I imagine it’s a madhouse there on Saturdays.”

  Bryce took a seat, sliding his legs out in front of him. “Lou talked to the friend. Sounds like the swimsuit Ruby was wearing when we found her matches the one she tried on when they were shopping. I had the store check sales records. There were no sales of that particular suit on Saturday or anytime this week.”

  “That’s not the only Macy’s in the area,” Kali reminded him.

  “I know. I put Maureen Oliver on it. I also looked into the dog collar. It’s a common brand and style. I doubt we’ll trace him through that.” Bryce pulled at an earlobe. “Lou and I talked to the captain. He wants this kept quiet. Even within the department.”

  “Warding off hysteria about the return of the Bayside Strangler?”

  “Partially that, and partially . . .” Bryce paused. “The killer has to be someone close to the Strangler case. Someone who knows details that weren’t made public.”

  “I had the same thought.” There was a sour taste in her mouth merely acknowledging the possibility. “It should help you narrow the field, though. There can’t be that many people who are familiar with the case.”

  Bryce ran his palm over the rounded, plastic arm of the chair. “The list is probably longer than we might expect.” He seemed lost in thought; then he stood abruptly. “You want to continue this over a drink?”

  Despite previous hints of interest on Bryce’s part, the suggestion caught her by surprise. “Socially, you mean?”

  “Better than nonsocially.” He gave her a quick grin. “But if you’re busy or you’d rather not—”

  “I’d love to.”

  He seemed pleased by her answer. Also, she realized in retrospect, a bit uncomfortable with the asking. So much for his reputation as a local Don Juan.

  “I’ve got a few things to finish up,” Bryce said. “How about we meet in the lobby in about twenty minutes. Does that give you enough time?”

  “Perfect.” She was doubly relieved that she hadn’t agreed to meet Nathan Sloane after work.

  <><><>

  Kali and Bryce left the building in a bustle of humanity that made conversation difficult. With his hand lightly on the small of her back, Bryce guided her to the edge of the sidewalk. It was a simple, casual gesture, but it quickened her heartbeat with its familiarity.

  “Anyplace in particular you’d like to go?” he asked her.

  “Your call, but no loud sports bar.”
<
br />   He laughed. “You must think I’ve got no class.”

  Class actually wasn’t one of the qualities she associated with Bryce, but she didn’t necessarily see that as a negative either.

  She was looking at his eyes, which she noted were a warm brown and not at all unreadable as she’d previously thought, trying to formulate a witty comeback, when a young man on Rollerblades zipped by. He clipped her and sent her sprawling to the ground. Her shoulder and hip took the brunt of it, but her palms scraped the pavement, as did her chin and one knee. In the first instant, she felt nothing but the shock of suddenly finding herself on the ground. Then the pain came rolling in, so sharp that it took her breath away.

  She saw Bryce start after the boy on Rollerblades, weaving between pedestrians, hollering, but he turned back almost immediately. He was kneeling beside her now, amidst a small gathering of passersby. “Are you hurt badly?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so.” She was breathing hard against the pain of freshly scraped skin. She flexed her arm and her wrist. “Shaken and sore, but I seem to be in one piece.”

  Circling her with his arm, Bryce helped her to her feet.

  “What’s with kids today?” said a man in the crowd. “That punk shouldn’t have been on the sidewalk and he shouldn’t have been going as fast as he was.”

  “Almost looked like he went straight for her,” said a gray-haired woman.

  Kali looked at her palms and saw the blood beginning to seep to the surface. “I think I’ll take a rain check on the drink,” she told Bryce.

  “Looks to me like you could use a double.”

  Her hands stung so badly, she could feel tears. Something cold and alcoholic wasn’t such a bad idea really.

  “Come on,” Bryce said. “My place isn’t far from here. We can get you cleaned up there. You can’t drive in the shape you’re in anyway.”

  He slid an arm around her and helped her to the car. Her left ankle hurt if she put too much weight on it and she would have had trouble walking without his help. But more than that, his arm around her was comforting.

  He drove more slowly than the last time she’d been in the car with him. Cautiously even, as though she might break if he took the corner with any speed at all.

  “I should have gone after him,” Bryce said.

  “He was on Rollerblades. You’d never have caught him. Besides, I’m glad you stayed to help me.”

  “Fat lot of help I was.”

  “You were.” She smiled. “Are.”

  “You sure nothing’s broken?”

  “Yeah. Nothing more serious than minor scrapes.”

  He parked in a garage under a row of town houses along the estuary and ushered her to what appeared to be a penthouse suite on the third floor.

  She’d expected a bachelor pad, either sleek and hi-tech or rumpled and terribly messy. But what she encountered was a tasteful and eclectic mix of furnishings in a room with polished hardwood floors and high ceilings. The far wall was all bookshelves, crammed with books, she noticed, not trophies or memorabilia. The television was small and far from new.

  Bryce led her to the limestone-tiled bathroom, where he washed her hands with a soft cloth and then applied an antiseptic cream. “It’s going to smart for a while,” he said.

  It did. She yelped. “Hurt like hell is more like it.”

  “We should do something about the rest of you, too.”

  Kali looked at herself in the mirror. She was a mess. Wet and dirty. Her nylons and blouse were torn, and the side of her face looked as if she’d been in a barroom brawl.

  “I can do it myself,” she said. As nice as it was to have Bryce hovering over her, she wasn’t about to play helpless patient.

  “Why don’t you get out of those wet and muddy clothes first. I’ve got a robe you can use.”

  He disappeared and returned a moment later carrying a velour robe embroidered with his initials. Kali suppressed a smile. Never in a hundred years would she have predicted that Bryce Keating was the monogram type.

  “Holler if you need help.” He started to close the door behind him. “You like margaritas?”

  “Love them.”

  “There’ll be one waiting for you when you finish there.”

  Kali dabbed at the remaining scrapes, which weren’t as bad as they appeared once the surface grime and blood was off. She slipped out of her stockings and blouse, and into Bryce’s robe. It was a blue and green striped velour, very dapper and way too big for her. She cinched it tight, then turned her nose to sniff for the scent of aftershave or soap. Nothing.

  The margarita was ice cold, the way she liked it. And smooth as silk. None of this bottled mix that was so popular in some circles. After the first sip she could feel the pain of her scrapes and bruises recede. Kali sat at the dining table, intentionally avoiding the bulky and very inviting sofa beyond. She wasn’t sure whether it was herself or Bryce she didn’t trust.

  He took a chair to her left.

  “Nice robe,” she said.

  “A gift.”

  From a woman, no doubt. Kali experienced an unexpected stab of jealousy.

  “It’s clean,” Bryce said. He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “I’ve never worn it.”

  “How come?” She caught him glance at the deep V where the robe flapped open at the neckline. She pulled it closed and held it there.

  “I get up, I get dressed. I’ve never had much use for a robe.”

  Not a gift from anyone who knew him well, it seemed. Kali took odd comfort in the knowledge. She took another sip of her drink, angling it for a fresh taste of salt.

  He smiled. His eyes crinkled.

  “We were talking about the case,” Kali said after a moment.

  “We were?”

  “Back in my office.” A hundred years ago. “We were going to continue the conversation over drinks.”

  The smile broadened. “There must be better things to talk about.”

  Or do, she thought, taking another sip. The margarita was strong. She must be half-soused already to be thinking the things she was. “Such as?”

  He touched her cheek above the abrasion. “How’s it feeling?”

  “Better.”

  His fingers grazed the skin at the nape of her neck. The pleasure was so intense she gasped involuntarily. And when he kissed her, she knew that she’d been a fool to think that avoiding the couch would be enough.

  CHAPTER 36

  Gloria was on the phone when Kali limped into work the next morning. She looked up as Kali approached, adjusted her glasses, then held a hand over the receiver. “What happened to you?” she asked.

  “I got hit by a kid on Rollerblades.”

  “Ouch.”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  Gloria’s expression registered doubt. She reached for the message slips tucked under the edge of her blotter and handed them to Kali. “There was another call, too, only he didn’t leave his name.”

  Kali glanced at the call slips on her way to her desk. One was from the department investigator she’d asked for information about Nathan’s cell phone; the other was from Lou Fortune. She tossed the slips onto her desk and hung up her coat. Then she uncapped the latte she’d picked up at Peet’s on the way in and tried to clear her mind of the tangled thoughts she’d been tripping over since Bryce had delivered her back to her car in the wee hours of the morning.

  She was a little angry at herself for succumbing (how could she have allowed herself to be so easily charmed?) and at the same time giddy with the memory. As a lover, Bryce was both gentle and passionate (a beguiling combination no doubt borne of ample experience), but what caused her heart to flutter still this morning was the shadow of vulnerability she’d detected behind the tough facade. Or maybe that was part of his persona, too. The man did have a reputation, after all.

  At least she’d had the good sense not to stay the night. That was something. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to face him just yet, either. Or talk to hi
m. And if she returned Lou’s call, the chances were good that Bryce might answer.

  Well, so what? It wasn’t like they were sixteen years old.

  She picked up the phone and punched in the number before she had a chance to reconsider. But she felt a wave of relief when it was Lou who answered.

  “You got some time to talk?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Probably best if you come over here. Bryce isn’t in yet, but I just called him and he’s on way.”

  “Has something come up?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here.”

  Kali eyed her latte. “Ten minutes okay?”

  “Should be perfect.”

  <><><>

  She walked into the homicide room just as Bryce was hanging his black leather jacket over the back of his chair. The sight of him made her heart race, but she avoided his eyes.

  Lou caught sight of her and did a double take. “Whad’ya do, take a header?”

  “With some major help from a fast-moving Rollerblader.”

  “Kids today got no manners. No respect at all.”

  “This one sure didn’t.” Kali was bruised and sore, but she felt better than she evidently looked, given what was becoming the standard reaction to her appearance.

  She took a seat across the desk from Lou. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bryce angle his chair so that he was facing them. But he avoided looking straight at her.

  “Did you call a meeting, Lou?” Bryce asked. “Or did we all just happen to end up here at the same time?”

  “The captain’s all fired up this morning. Since you two dragged in here late, I’ve been the one catching the heat. Kali can at least claim injuries. What’s your excuse, Bryce?”

  Kali caught Bryce giving her a long sideways look. His mouth tweaked with the hint of a smile. Just enough to affirm silent communication. She felt better for it.

  “I didn’t get to sleep until late,” Bryce said.

  Lou raised one bushy eyebrow. “That little black book of yours keeps you busy, doesn’t it?”

  Bryce frowned. “What little black book?” The tone was pure innocence, but Kali saw him give Lou a pointed look, which apparently missed its mark.