“My God.” Nick buried his forehead in his hands. “You may have been in the house with the killer. What if he saw you?”
The realization bolted through my body like lightning. I wrapped my arms around my waist and rocked. “I didn’t see anyone. I was in and out of that house in less than five minutes.”
“It’s okay, Liz. I’m sure you’re—”
“I had no idea Laycee was there.”
“Take a breath.” Nick pulled me in close, his chin resting on top of my head. “I’m getting the sense I should follow you around more.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Not what I had in mind at all.” He kissed the top of my head.
I leaned back and looked up at his face. “Bodyguard?”
“Something like that but with benefits—”
“Benefits? As in ever after benefits?”
“No…I mean…well…” Nick let me go and held out his wrist, making a grand show of checking the time. “I should get going. I want to stop at the UCLA library again and try to track down the symbol. Let’s get together tonight and talk.”
“About murder or…?”
“I’ll let you know if I find anything at the library.” Nick wasn’t the type to squirm but when he did, he was kind of adorable at it. First, he reached to Erzulie purring at his side and scratched her between the ears before he stood to leave. On the way through the living room he mumbled something about library hours. At the door, carefully avoiding eye contact, he kissed me good-bye then hustled out. Fast.
I wasn’t ready for ever after either.
The last box of books waited by the fireplace, ready to be unpacked. Great, something to do while I waited for Dave to return my call. I headed for the den and as I reached to turn up the TV volume, the phone rang again. Hopefully Dave. Probably Mom. Or Marion Cooper. I took my cell off the coffee table, glancing at the small screen. Area code 818—the Valley, and not a number I knew. I answered, hesitant.
“Liz Cooper?” The female voice on the phone sounded vaguely familiar. “This is Carla Pratt, LAPD. Do you remember me?”
I wandered to the window, nerves tightening my throat. “Of course I remember you, Carla. How are you?”
“Your name came up in a homicide investigation I’m working on. I’m hoping you can help me with some information. Can we meet this evening?”
“What kind of information?” As if I didn’t know.
“A few background points. Where can we meet?”
Instinct warned me to pick neutral territory. I didn’t want Carla nosing around my house for any reason. “There’s a café called Aroma on Tujunga Avenue south of Moorpark. I can meet you there at seven.”
She agreed and we hung up. As soon as I clicked off the call, I dialed Dave again.
When he answered I said, “Don’t you return your calls? Do you know what’s going on?”
“I return my calls in order of priority and, by the way, calls for the job come first. You’re third on my social list after Robin and the folks.”
“Good to hear I slipped in rank to number three. Doesn’t blood mean anything in this family?”
“Between my job and your friends, blood seems to be the family business. I assume you’re calling about the vic at Jarret’s house? Don’t you know anyone not connected to murder?”
“Funny. I’m amused. Did you talk to Nick today?”
“No, why?”
“Captain Eagleton called Nick in to examine a symbol the killer left on the body. He was at the scene this morning.” I perched at the edge of my desk, eyeing the muted TV for news updates.
“Why Nick? Are they thinking ritual killing?” Dave said. “Voodoo? A religious sacrifice?”
“Nick mentioned witchcraft or devil worship. He’s trying to track down more information this afternoon. I called you for details about the rest of the investigation. Jarret’s parents called me, worried.”
“Nick can tell you more than I can, if he was at the scene. I’m working my own cases down here.”
“Will you just tell me what might be happening at Jarret’s house? He doesn’t answer his phone. His parents are in distress. They think he’s locked up. I promised to call them back with information.”
“I only know what I heard on the news, Liz. Jarret would be interrogated on the scene and, depending on what the detectives have, what Jarret told them, and—if he lawyered up—they either let him go or arrested him. The only thing I can do for you is phone the West Valley homicide desk to find out who took the call. Maybe I know the detective.”
“Carla Pratt.”
“And you continue to know more than I do. Do you just miss me? Is that why you called? I heard Pratt transferred from Northeast. She’s good. I can’t bug her. She’ll be too busy securing evidence and talking to witnesses. Keep calling Jarret until he answers. You’re good at that.”
“Thank you. Dave, about talking to witnesses—Carla called me.”
“She did? That was fast. An ex-wife from years ago would be far down on my list of people to talk to. Maybe Pratt already has a case and she’s establishing the character angle. Hope Jarret has a good defense attor—”
“I’m not a character witness. I was at Jarret’s house this morning. I need to fill you in on a few details.”
He listened with his version of silence—grunts peppered with sighs and curses.
“Should I bring a lawyer to the meeting tonight?” I said.
“Damn it, Liz. Whose kid are you? A lawyer will tell you to keep your mouth shut. If you want to help the investigation, tell Pratt the truth. You’re a witness, not a suspect. Just remember, whether or not she chooses to tell you, she’ll tape your conversation. Remember what Dad used to say when we asked him what a homicide detective’s job was?”
“To catch people in lies.”
“Exactly. The first interview establishes your story. If Carla finds no reason to doubt you, there won’t be another. Do your interview and let it go. Let Jarret tell his parents what happened.” Before Dave ended the call he said, “Try to stay out of it as much as possible.”
I would. Right after I talked to Jarret.
Chapter Eight
I tried Jarret’s cell again. No answer. His voice mail prevented me from leaving word so I left Ira Ryback a message for him or Jarret to call Marion and Bud to let them know what was happening. Then I phoned Marion and apologized for having nothing to report. Marion did. She updated me on Bud’s latest bowling score, the upcoming county fair, and the birthday present Jarret bought her this year. Perceiving helpless anxiety behind her chatter, I listened until she ran out of topics. Marion and I were close before the divorce. I missed her, too.
The pounding, drilling, and banging upstairs ended at four-fifteen. Stan and Angel filed down the steps with their gear.
“Tomorrow at nine again?” Stan said as we walked out to the porch.
I nodded. “Are you any closer to finishing?”
“I think so. Any day now, you’ll be soaking in a lavender-scented bubble bath.”
“I’ll be satisfied with a shower in my own home,” I said.
“Soon.”
Right. I stood outside in the blazing late afternoon heat and watched Stan back his truck out of my driveway. Though I had spent the day on the phone in my air-conditioned home, I felt sticky, grimy, and tired of T-shirts and jeans. I had an urge to dress up.
A shower and a sundress. There was an idea. Freshen up for my meeting with Carla and an evening with Nick. If I went to the gym for a quick shower, I might run into Kyle. Not a bad idea at all. I went inside, dashed upstairs, and came down carrying my backpack with a black-and-red-flowered sundress, lacy lingerie, and a pair of sandals inside. Erzulie gave me her abandoned kitty look.
“I’ll be gone for less than an hour,” I said. “You won’t miss dinner. In fact, if you take a quick nap, you won’t even know I’m gone. Or watch the birds in the backyard. You love watching the birds.”
&
nbsp; Yes, I reasoned with a kitten. Yes, she listened. Erzulie could be very understanding.
When I got to the gym, I eyed the scattering of people in the cardio room and working out on machines, looking for but not seeing Kyle though his Jeep was parked outside. I found Earl alone with a client in the weight room.
“Is Kyle here?”
“Somewhere,” Earl said. “Did you look in the office?”
“I will, thanks.”
I backtracked through the weight room past a TV with a cable sports station broadcasting the replay of Eagleton’s press conference, and Jarret’s picture posted in the lower corner of the screen. I passed the door to the ladies’ locker room and rounded a corner to the west end of the gym along the wall of power racks and heavy weights facing the windows to the lot.
Muffled voices came from behind the closed door to Kyle’s office at the far end of the building. I knocked lightly, turned the knob, and peeked inside the small room. Kyle sat behind the desk against the wall, talking to a twentyish, short and stocky kid with stringy hair and an acne-riddled face.
Kyle spun around, startled, and quickly dropped a brown bag into the bottom drawer. He shut the drawer with his knee, locked it, and dropped the key into the top drawer. The kid hid something behind his back and backed into a corner of the office, staring at the floor.
“Liz, you’re a morning person. What are you doing here so late?” Kyle folded his hands on the blotter, clenching his fingers.
“My bathroom is still a war zone. I wanted to cool off with a shower before I go out tonight,” I said, watching his knuckles turn white. “I apologize for interrupting your meeting. I heard about Laycee and wanted to see how you’re doing. Will you be here for a while?”
“Yeah, we should talk,” Kyle said. “I’m here until seven. Stop by and see me up front before you leave.”
I retreated to the weight room, shutting the door behind me. What could be so private to make Kyle take a meeting inside a closed office in an almost empty gym?
With two clean towels from a stack near the desk, I took my gear into the ladies’ locker room for a hot shower. I finished with a cooling rinse, then toweled off and smoothed moisturizer from my face to my toes. After I ran a comb through my wet hair, I got dressed.
When I came out to the weight room clean, scented, and feeling fresh in sandals and sundress, Earl wolf whistled from the side of the leg press machine. “You clean up good, Liz.”
I grinned. Hell, I wasn’t even wearing makeup.
Kyle sat behind the front desk, reading the paper. He glanced up at me then away, thumbing toward the office. “The kid wanted to talk to me about joining the gym. He’s training to be a football player and—”
“You don’t have to explain,” I said though his unsolicited excuse, fast talk, and lack of eye contact suggested a lie. I was more interested in what had happened the night before than about whatever Kyle was trying to hide. “I’m sorry I barged in on you. Did you hear from Jarret?”
“Yeah.” He lowered his voice and thumbed toward the front door. “Let’s go outside. Jarret doesn’t want me to talk about what happened in public. Nosey eyes and ears.”
He opened the door for me and we walked out to the parking lot. Tall palm trees, motionless in the blistering late afternoon heat, bordered the sidewalk between the small parking lot and Ventura Boulevard. The asphalt cooked under the westward-bound sun. We got into my car and I turned on the ignition, letting the engine idle while the air conditioner cooled the interior.
Kyle fiddled with the vent blowing air in his face. “I talked to Jarrret about an hour ago. He’s staying at the Sportsmen’s Lodge until the cops let him back into his house. I’ll tell you, Liz, he’s freaked.”
“I bet he is. What happened last night? How did Laycee end up at Jarret’s house? I thought she was with you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s Laycee. She’s with who she’s with until she’s with the next guy. She threw herself all over Billy Miles up in the suite at the game.” Kyle snorted with disapproval. “I had to tell her to give Billy some space. That ticked her off. She was drinking heavy and kept on drinking after we met Jarret at Fifth Base.”
“How was he?” I asked.
“After his pitching disaster? Can’t you guess? Pathetic. Bitched and moaned about tripping on the foul line. Blamed the pigeon. Carped about being hexed. You know how damned superstitious he is.”
I nodded. Jarret relied on his game day beliefs for a control mechanism to soothe his nerves and ease performance pressure on the mound.
“Laycee took Jarret’s crappy mood as a challenge and started hitting on him right off. He knocked back the booze pretty hard. So did she. I guess when I went to the bar to order another round they made a plan to hook up. I knew by the way she cooed at him for the rest of the night. Didn’t bother me.” Kyle smirked. “I got up at four yesterday to open the gym. I just wanted to go home and get some sleep. She wanted to stay. She asked Jarret to drive her back to the hotel.”
I held back from asking Kyle why, if he went home so early, he didn’t open the gym this morning. His feigned nonchalance didn’t mask the biting edge to his voice. Kyle took a backseat to Jarret’s fame since the beginning of their friendship. I often suspected that Kyle goaded Jarret into reckless behavior to knock him down a notch. Last night, Jarret wound up taking Kyle’s “date” home.
“So you left them at the bar?” I said.
“Yeah. It probably was Jarret’s idea to go up to his house after Fifth Base closed. He wouldn’t go with her to her hotel. She was staying down the block at the Sportsmen’s Lodge. He was too careful to be seen out with a married woman.”
I flinched at Kyle’s casual remark about Jarret’s amorous cautions, a subject I didn’t care to explore especially if those habits dated back to our marriage. “Did you see anyone you knew at Fifth Base?”
“Nah. The rest of the team went home after the loss. Why do you care about Jarret? You were too good for him, you know. You aren’t like the rest of the women who hang around ballplayers.” Kyle touched my bare knee, stroking his finger toward my thigh.
The jerk was making a move on me? Payback? Revenge? I moved his hand away, put my foot on the brake, and shifted the car into reverse. “I need to leave. I have an appointment to get to. Thanks for filling me in.”
Kyle shrugged off my rejection and opened the car door. Before he got out he said, “Jarret is keeping his cell turned off. If you call the hotel, ask for Bruce Sutter.”
I regretted engaging Kyle just to appease my curiosity. If I hadn’t gone to Jarret’s house this morning or Eagleton hadn’t called in Nick, I wouldn’t care what Kyle, Jarret, or Laycee did last night. Unless—was I still more connected to Jarret than I realized? I made a right turn out of the parking lot into the rush-hour traffic inching along Ventura Boulevard.
Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I replayed Kyle’s narrative in my head, unable to shake off the bitterness I sensed in his tone. If Jarret got convicted of murder, Kyle would be left with full ownership of the gym. What if Kyle had stayed up all night drinking and stirring his resentment? Maybe he didn’t like being used and decided to punish both Laycee and Jarret. Kyle knew Jarret’s garage door combination. What if he saw Laycee asleep and murdered her to frame Jarret? Possible. What about the symbol? A diversion?
My phone rang as I passed the Starbucks at Vantage and Ventura. Mom.
“Did you hear from Jarret?” she said.
“Nope,” I said, stopping for a red light at Laurel Canyon. “But I talked to his trainer.”
“What did he say? Is Jarret all right?”
“He’s fine. He’s staying at the Sportsmen’s Lodge and not answering his cell. Leave him alone, Mom. He’ll contact someone when he wants to.”
“Liz, he needs our support.”
The light turned green. I passed through the intersection, biting down hard to keep from yelling. Then I took a deep breath and said, “You know what, Mom? I could u
se your support. Please don’t draw me into Jarret’s drama. If he’s innocent, he has a team of lawyers and agents to help him.”
“What do you mean by if? Of course he’s innocent.”
“Then don’t worry about him. The truth will come out.”
“You’re upset.”
“I’m hot. I’m tired of talking about this, and I want to get home. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”
“I love you, dear.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
When I turned the corner onto my street, the phone rang again.
“Jarret’s not registered at the Sportsmen’s Lodge,” Mom said, testing every strand of my nerves.
My rational side intervened. An outburst would be a poor prologue to my meeting with Carla. “He’s registered as Bruce Sutter,” I said, pulling into my driveway.
“Who is—?”
“Hall of Fame Cubs pitcher. Jarret’s childhood hero.”
“Isn’t that charming.”
Chapter Nine
I put on makeup and fed Erzulie, and then drove the four blocks to the Aroma Café. A rare parking space opened on Tujunga, giving me a short jaunt to the customers waiting in line outside. I didn’t see Carla Pratt, so I cruised through the tables inside and on both patios. I spotted her at the rear of the courtyard, sipping an iced drink and reading her BlackBerry at a table tucked in the corner.
When I got to the table she removed her gold-rimmed glasses and smiled at me. Her sandy brown bangs were dark with sweat, her hair cropped even tighter around her ears and neck than the last time I saw her. In her mid-forties, she carried the guarded, pale-faced demeanor of a career city detective. Her gray two-button suit must have felt like a heating pad on her sturdy frame, but removing the jacket would mean exposing the gun I knew she carried on her belt.
“Dr. Cooper.” She indicated the empty chair across the small table. “Did you order?”
“You can still call me Liz. I didn’t order. I wanted to find you before I got in line. I’ll be right back.” When I returned to the table with an iced tea, Carla dabbed beads of sweat off her forehead. “Would you rather sit inside where it’s cooler?” I suggested.
Hex on the Ex Page 7
