Shadow of Doubt (A Kali O'Brien legal mystery)

by Jonnie Jacobs

  “Sounds stupid,” Laurel said. “That’s Erin’s job.”

  “Yeah,” Melissa echoed, before they stomped off, letting the screen door slam behind them.

  Erin looked at me soberly. “You want help?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “You deserve a break. I work better by myself anyway.”

  She rolled her eyes at me, and left without a word.

  Lily crawled under the table and began to spoon-feed jam to the cat, taking alternate bites for herself. I left her there while I began tossing dishes into the sink. The cat couldn’t have many more germs than Lily, and the jar was almost empty anyway.

  As it turned out, the mess was mostly superficial. By the time I’d washed the dishes, wiped the counters and swept the floor, the place was much improved. Cleaning up Lily was a bit more of an undertaking, and something of an education. Two year olds do not scrub up anywhere near as obligingly as a greasy pot.

  When I’d finished dressing her, having learned in the process why so many mothers allow their children to wear mismatched clothing, I whipped up a bacon and cheese omelet, microwaved some frozen French fries, and poured four glasses of chocolate milk.

  Laurel didn’t like bacon, Melissa wouldn’t eat French fries without catsup, which was nowhere to be found, and Erin was allergic to chocolate. Nonetheless, the prospect of food engendered enough of a cooperative spirit that I was able to leave them alone and check on Jannine.

  Chapter 8

  The bedroom door was shut. I knocked softly, taking the murmured response as an invitation to enter. The drapes were pulled, the lights off. The air was hot and heavy with the flat, slightly rank smell of unbound sorrow. Jannine lay sprawled on the bed hugging a pillow to her chest and staring blankly at the far wall.

  “Jannine?” I hesitated by the door. When she didn’t answer, I moved closer. “Are you okay?”

  She hugged the pillow tighter and moaned softly.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her head. I couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound hollow. Finally, Jannine rolled onto her back and shoved the front page of The Hadley Times in my direction.

  “Have you seen the afternoon paper?” she asked. Her voice was thin and barely audible.

  For the second time in two days, the face of a Marrero stared back at me in black and white. This time the face was Jannine’s. Above it, the headline, “Wife Questioned in Coach’s Death.”

  I read through the story quickly. Not a direct quote or named source in the whole piece. “There’s nothing concrete here,” I told her. “The Hadley Times has always been a sensationalist paper. I’m sure there’s nothing more to it than what we already know.”

  Jannine propped herself against the pillows. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard, but her face crumpled anyway. “Oh God, Kali, how did this happen?” The tears welled up, and then, suddenly, she was crying for real — deep, racking sobs that went on and on. Occasionally she’d sputter a few incoherent words, as though she were trying to drag herself from the edge of the abyss, but the effort seemed to throw her back once again into primitive, all encompassing despair.

  I wrapped my arms around her, holding her against my chest as though she were a child. Finally the flood of tears subsided. She released her grip on my shoulders and sighed, a ragged, weary breath that seemed to consume her entire body.

  “Shit, shit and double shit,” she said.

  I seconded the notion.

  “You know what’s funny?” Jannine said, drawing in another deep breath. “I’m scared out of my mind, and the person I want to run to for comfort is the very same person they’re accusing me of killing.”

  “No one’s accused you yet,” I reminded her.

  “Maybe not officially. That hardly matters though.”

  It mattered a great deal, but I didn’t think it was worth arguing the point right then.

  Jannine pulled the pillow into her lap and began smoothing it with her hand. “Eddie could be such a pain when he put his mind to it,” she said wistfully, “but, my God, I loved him. So much it scared me sometimes.”

  I nodded. There was nothing I could say.

  “I’ll listen for him, or look for him, or think about something I want to tell him, and it takes a second or two before I realize he’s not here anymore, that he’s never going to be here again.” Jannine was swallowing hard and talking in short, shallow-breathed spurts. “I never imagined such emptiness.”

  I nodded again, and we sat silently while Jannine pulled herself together.

  “I heard all the commotion down in the kitchen,” she said, after awhile. Her voice was thin still, but her face had taken on an element of composure. “Thanks for stepping in. I just didn’t have the strength to cope any more.”

  “Where’s Nona?”

  “She was getting one of her migraines, so I told her to go home. She’s been here since Sunday. It hasn’t been easy on her either.”

  “You want something to eat?” I asked.

  Jannine shook her head.

  “How about something to drink then?”

  “You don’t need to wait on me, Kali. I’m fine, really.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure I am,” I said. “Why don’t you freshen up while I pour us some wine.”

  When Jannine came downstairs half an hour later, she wasn’t exactly the picture of cheer, but she did look much better. Though her eyes were puffy, she’d brushed her hair, made a stab at putting on some make-up, and fixed a brave smile on her face.

  I handed her a glass of wine and directed her to a clear spot at the kitchen table. “The kids are watching television, and I’m boiling water for noodles. You want a bite of cheese or something while you wait?”

  She shook her head. “Won’t it be ironic if I lose weight now. Eddie always thought I got fat just to spite him.”

  “You’re not fat.”

  “Not thin either,” she said. “Last fall I even joined Weight Watchers. I measured and weighed and charted everything I ate for a whole bloody month, and I gained five pounds.” She sighed and ran a finger around the rim of her wine glass. Without looking up, she said, “You never knew I had a crush on Eddie in high school, did you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Ever since ninth grade. When you started dating him I was so jealous. Well, not actually jealous, I guess, because I would rather it was you than anybody else. That way I got to hear everything, at least. It was actually harder when you two broke up and you started talking about what a jerk he was. I wanted to stand up for him, but I didn’t want you to be angry with me, either.”

  I stopped dicing garlic and looked at Jannine with astonishment. “You should have said something.”

  “It was so embarrassing,” Jannine said. “Plain old me and gorgeous Eddie. If anybody had gotten wind of that, I’d have been the laughing stock of the entire school.”

  “I wouldn’t have laughed.”

  She half shrugged.

  “And what do you mean, ‘plain, old me?’ You had the most beautiful skin I’ve ever seen, not a blemish or freckle on it.”

  “But I was a real nobody, you know that. All through school. All my life I guess. Then that summer when Eddie came home from college with both arms in a cast, and his mother hired me to help out. . .’’Jannine paused for a moment, her expression suddenly dreamy. “He made me feel I was somebody special. It was the first time I’d ever felt that way in my entire life.”

  While I was figuring out the best way to tell her she had always been someone special, Lily came into the kitchen and crawled into her mother’s lap. Jannine gave her a noisy kiss on each cheek, then rubbed noses with her Eskimo fashion.

  “And now I have his daughters. The four most wonderful kids in the whole world. Who’d have ever imagined that?”

  We lapsed into silence while I toasted some bread and sprinkled cheese on our noodles. Then I joined her at the table. Neither of us ate much, but I polished off a second glass of wine and watched Lily
tear her mother’s toast into tiny pieces, then toss it in the air like confetti. For her part, Jannine seemed content to stroke Lily’s hair and stare off into space.

  “Were you able to talk to Susie today?” she asked after a moment.

  While I rinsed our plates, I filled her in on my day’s activities, leaving out the part about the Saturday nights Eddie never spent at the tavern. At some point I would probably have to tell her, but there was no way I could bring myself to do it right then.

  “I don’t think this business with the tavern was what Eddie wanted to talk to me about,” I told her. “The papers were apparently all drawn up and ready to be signed.”

  “Susie had agreed to hold onto it, then?”

  “Not quite. Eddie was going to buy her share, for ten thousand plus a portion of future profits. That way she would get almost as much as your uncle was offering, and Eddie would get to keep a piece of the business.”

  “Ten thousand!” The words squeaked out like a hiccup. “Are you kidding? Where would he get that kind of money?”

  “I was hoping maybe you could tell me.”

  Jannine shook her head in bewilderment. “We live from paycheck to paycheck, and just barely that. Mom had to lend us money for Erin’s orthodontia. Susie must have misunderstood.”

  “She said the papers were ready to be signed.”

  “Ten thousand . . . Holy cow, Kali, that’s a hunk of money.”

  “Why don’t you call the bank tomorrow? See if they can tell you anything.”

  She looked skeptical, but agreed to put in a call.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to sort through Eddie’s papers?”

  “I can’t even go into the room without breaking down.”

  “It could be important.”

  “After the funeral, okay?”

  “It would be better if you could do it sooner.”

  Jannine looked at me, then nodded mutely, like a child chastised. I felt like a heel.

  “You want me to help?”

  “No, you’re doing enough already. I’ll get to it. I promise.”

  “I thought I’d head out to the mall tomorrow,” I told her. “See if I can find somebody who remembers seeing you there last Saturday.”

  “Nobody’s going to remember me. I just wandered.”

  “You never know.”

  Jannine twisted her napkin around her fingers. She looked at me, started to say something, then shrugged and turned away. “I just hate to have to waste your time is all.”

  “We won’t know whether it’s a waste or not, until I do it. I thought I’d also check through Eddie’s office at school. I stopped by there this afternoon, but it was locked. Do you think there’s a key around here?”

  “I don’t know. He kept one on his key ring. The police haven’t returned any of his personal belongings yet, but there might be a spare in the desk.” She went to check and returned a few minutes later with a handful of assorted keys. “It might be one of these. You can take them all.”

  I pocketed the keys and checked the kitchen. It wasn’t sparkling clean, but it looked a whole lot better than it had when I arrived. I was gathering up my own keys and my purse when Jannine sat up straight.

  “You know, I just remembered Eddie got a phone call last Saturday, about half an hour before he left. It may be completely unrelated, but right after that he came in and told me he’d be going out for a bit.”

  “You know who it was?”

  “No, I was in the other room. It wasn’t a long conversation.”

  “Did you hear anything? Even a word or two?”

  She shook her head. “Not a thing.”

  Just then the doorbell rang. Jannine answered it and returned with Jack Peterson and a tall, angular woman who she introduced as his wife, Marlene.

  “I made up some muffins and banana bread,” Marlene said. “I thought the kids might like a treat.” Jannine took the several paper sacks Jack handed her. “How thoughtful. Come sit down and I’ll put water on for coffee.”

  “Thank you, dear, but we can’t stay. We’re off to a California Coalition dinner. Jack is giving a talk there.”

  Looking embarrassed, Jack thrust his hands into his pockets. “Marlene wanted to check and make sure everything was in order for the, uh, for Thursday.”

  It took a moment before I remembered; Thursday was Eddie’s funeral.

  “There’s going to be an announcement in tomorrow’s paper,” Marlene said. “I double-checked this afternoon to make sure they had the time right. Mrs. Langley and I are taking care of refreshments for afterwards, so don’t you worry about that. She’s volunteered her home, too. It’s just lovely, and there is plenty of room. I imagine there might be a good sized turn-out, don’t you?”

  Jannine nodded. A strained smile pulled at her mouth. “Thank you, for everything. You’ve both been so kind.”

  Marlene gave her hand a quick little pat. “Our faith and our friends — the nourishment that sustains us in times of need. Jack and I are grateful we can be of help.”

  “If there’s anything you need,” Jack added, “you just let us know.”

  When they’d left, Jannine turned to me with an odd little laugh. “That woman used to drive Eddie nuts, and now she’s orchestrating the finer points of his funeral. I should feel guilty, but the truth is, I’m not up to it myself.”

  “I wouldn’t feel guilty,” I said, in my most reassuring tone. “I’m sure Eddie would understand.”

  Her soft brown eyes blinked at me. “Maybe,” she said softly, “maybe not.”

  Chapter 9

  When I left Jannine’s, I headed for the high school.

  Dusk had turned the air chilly and dimmed the afternoon’s rich glow to a flat, drab gray. The buildings were dark too, which suited me just fine. The last thing I wanted was to have to explain myself to some guardian of the public welfare. Even with a key and Jannine’s permission, I thought I was probably on somewhat shaky ground.

  I parked my car in the lot and locked it, cursing under my breath as the high-pitched chirp of the BMW’s alarm cut through the evening’s stillness. I checked to make sure no one was around, then headed right, past the athletic fields, and up to the physical education wing.

  One dimly lit bulb flickered at the end of the corridor. The light closer to Eddie’s office was burned out completely. There was just enough illumination to cast a shadow, and as I fumbled around in my purse, I watched my silhouette against the pavement, oddly elongated and jerky. Finally, I pulled out the handful of keys Jannine had given me and tried them all. Although one fit obligingly into the lock, none worked.

  Cursing again, I pocketed the keys and peered into the dark interior. That’s when I noticed the rear window had been left open a couple of inches. The good little girl inside me was stamping her feet with disapproval, but I went around back anyway. By standing on my tiptoes, I was able to reach my hand through the window with enough leverage to open it farther. But there was no way I could pull myself up and through like some young Hollywood hulk.

  So I did what women (and probably most men) have done for ages — I found something to stand on. A sturdy metal garbage can facilitated my climb, and although it was still a struggle, I was finally able to get a leg up and over the sill. The rest was easy, although decidedly unladylike. Before I knew it, I was inside Eddie’s office. I didn’t even try to wipe the self-satisfied grin from my face.

  Pulling a flashlight from my purse, I began poking around, and discovered almost immediately the difficulty of conducting a one-handed search. I took a deep breath and flipped on the overhead light.

  While my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I took a moment to survey the room. The wall to my left was lined with award plaques and banners, the wall to my right with a nicked gray filing cabinet and a tottering bookshelf. The center of the room was taken up with a large metal desk and a couple of chairs, neither of which was pushed square with much of anything. Still, I wouldn’t have noticed if the
assistant coach hadn’t mentioned it that afternoon. If Eddie’s office had been searched, it was hard to tell.

  Of course, if Eddie’s office had been searched then I was already too late. On top of that, I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for. But Eddie had told me Friday night that he needed a lawyer, implied that the issue was sensitive. And he’d somehow come up with ten thousand dollars his wife didn’t know about. The office seemed a likely hiding place for anything he might have wanted to keep from her.

  I started with the desk. The drawers were filled with the kind of everyday junk you’d expect, pens, rubber bands, paper clips, a couple of opened Lifesaver rolls and a grade book —all neatly arranged with plastic dividers. In the bottom drawer I found a ratty-looking Stephen King novel and a can of Desenex, each in its own partitioned space. The bookshelf held an array of jock books, a sweat shirt (tidily folded) and a couple pairs of shoes. There wasn’t a cryptic message or incriminating clue to be had anywhere.

  By the time I got to the file cabinet, I was willing to bet that someone besides Eddie had been in the office. In typical Eddie fashion, the file drawers had been organized with color coded dividers. But the manila folders inside were twisted, and jammed in at odd angles, the papers spilling over and already dog-eared. I couldn’t imagine any coach, especially Eddie, treating his team photos or player stats so poorly.

  I went through the files anyway, hoping I might find some hint of what had been taken. So intent was I at this business of snooping, that I didn’t hear anyone approach until the office door creaked and a cool draft blew across my neck.

  By then it was too late.

  Before I could turn my head, a powerful hand grabbed my shoulder and shoved me roughly against the wall.

  “Stay where you are and don’t move.” The voice was low and guttural. And tough enough that I had no intention of disobeying.