In Their Blood: A Novel

by Sharon Potts

  “Then stay with me.”

  He kissed her fingertips.

  “Please, Jeremy.”

  He drew her against him and stroked her hair. The cat jumped out of his lap.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

  “Make love to me,” she said.

  “Shhh,” he said, stroking her hair. “Shhh.”

  It was still raining when Jeremy pulled onto Lotus Island. A drizzle that barely justified the windshield wipers, but enough to make the roads hazardous. He’d passed two accidents on the way home from Robbie’s house. As Jeremy had driven by the flashing emergency lights, he had slowed down more than he might have a few months ago when he still smugly believed he and everyone else who populated his little world were invincible.

  Robbie had fallen asleep after two, but he’d sat with her for another hour or so. He had shifted her position so she was stretched out on the sofa and left a second pillow under her leg to keep it elevated. He kissed her forehead before he left. He yearned for her, but it wasn’t right. Tomorrow she would be devastated. How ironic. If he hadn’t cared about her so much, he would gladly have made love to her. But he couldn’t risk losing her friendship. He’d already lost so much else.

  He pulled the Lexus into the driveway. His attention was caught by a strange configuration of shadows near the Corvair.

  The driver’s door was open. The dome light wasn’t on, but that made sense. The battery often lost its charge. But why was the door open?

  Something dark and substantial was hanging out of the open car door like a rolled carpet.

  He turned over the inert form. A cry of shock roared out of him. “Noooo.”

  Marina’s head fell backward from where her throat had been slit. Her eyes were open as though she’d been startled and her small round mouth was pursed in surprise.

  Marina. No, not Marina.

  He rested her head on his lap. Her dark sweatshirt was soaked through with blood. The hood was pulled up over her hair, but a few bronze strands had escaped. “Marina, who did this to you?”

  Marina’s cheek was cold. Blood no longer flowed from the gaping slit in her neck. Her body was rigid. She must have been killed hours ago.

  The police. He had to call the police. Someone had murdered Marina.

  He gently lowered Marina to the ground. He took off his jacket, rolled it up, and placed it under her head like a pillow. Why had she come here tonight?

  Vaguely, he was aware of a car stopping, someone’s horrified voice, a door slamming, then the car screeching off.

  Jeremy stroked Marina’s hair under the hooded sweatshirt. He held her hand. So stiff. So unlike his Marina. Blood from her cut artery had sprayed over her chin and cheeks.

  The car door. The door of the Corvair was open. Had she put something in the car?

  Jeremy tentatively peered inside. The mess of fabrics didn’t make any sense to him. Then he recognized her canvas satchel. It had been sliced open, its contents strewn over the driver’s seat.

  The blanket. The Peruvian blanket she’d brought from her childhood home. That they had made love on so many times. It had been folded, but now was crumpled and stained with blood. She’d brought him the blanket? Why?

  On the seat was a small, red metal box. A toolbox. He felt its weight in his hands. He’d bought the Father’s Day present when he was thirteen. “This is great, Jeremy,” his father had said. “Tools-to-go.”

  So his dad had left the toolbox at Marina’s place. He expected to feel a surge of anger, but the knowledge of his father’s love affair with Marina no longer seemed important. Marina was dead. They were both dead.

  He put the toolbox down and shook out the blanket. The damp wool released a smell that brought him back to another time and place. Damp wool and sweat and cooking grease and Marina’s fluttering tongue.

  Why would someone have wanted to kill her?

  A white envelope fell from the folds, landing in a pool of blood. “JEREMY” it said in all capital letters. He wiped it off against his jeans and shoved it in his pocket just as he heard the sound of sirens. Flashing lights appeared on his street.

  The rain was coming down hard now. He thought of Elise hiding behind the curtain of rain when he’d found her at the park hours earlier, the hood of her sweatshirt up over her hair.

  He looked back down at Marina, the dark hood framing her face like a nun’s habit. And with a jolt of recognition, he realized Marina hadn’t been the intended victim.

  Elise was.

  Chapter 45

  The next few hours were a jumble for Jeremy. People coming, going, asking questions, taking photos. He remembered perversely the family photos of the four of them. “Okay, everyone. On the count of three,” his father would shout, the timer blinking as he raced back to his family throwing his arms around his wife and daughter while Jeremy stood off by himself, “everyone smile.”

  But these pictures of Marina wouldn’t make it into anyone’s photo album.

  Judy Lieber touched his arm. “Sorry I got here so late. I was at my son’s house in the Keys when I got the call.”

  She had a son? Somehow he’d pictured her working 24/7, no family, no outside commitments. Just being a detective. But that’s exactly what he’d done with his own parents, imagining their lives revolved around him alone.

  “Why don’t we go somewhere quieter?” She led him away from the crowd of curious neighbors and the crime-scene crew out to the back patio.

  The sky was lightening to the east, a pale crisp blue that seemed incongruous with the blur in Jeremy’s own head. The rain had stopped. When had that happened?

  “I know Detective Kuzniski has already asked you questions,” Lieber was saying, “but I prefer speaking to you myself.” She was wearing old jeans and a sweatshirt, as though she’d been too rushed to change into her customary detective clothes.

  He was suddenly itching for a cigarette. The unfiltered kind Marina had introduced him to— that he’d stopped smoking when he’d discovered her deception.

  “What do you think she was doing here?” Lieber asked. “The blanket, the toolbox— do they mean anything to you?”

  “I think.” His voice caught in his throat. “I think she meant to say good-bye to me.”

  Lieber glanced at the brownish smudge on his pants. “Did you see her? Talk to her?”

  “I wasn’t home when she got here.”

  “Where were you?”

  “With Robbie Ivy, one of the auditors at my mom’s firm.”

  “I know who Robbie is.”

  “Someone tried to kill her.”

  “Robbie?” Lieber widened her eyes. “That’s a pretty extreme statement.”

  “She was in the PCM file room. A cabinet toppled over— the one with the Castillo Enterprises audit papers. It crushed her.”

  “Crushed her?”

  “Well almost. It hit her head and broke her ankle. I took her to the hospital, then back to her house.”

  “So she’s okay.”

  “Pretty much. She’s on painkillers. She’ll probably sleep through most of today.”

  “And what makes you think the falling cabinet was deliberate? Did she see someone push it?”

  “No, but it was weighted to fall. When I pulled it up off her, it felt like the top drawer had been loaded down with lead.”

  “You confirmed this?” She was taking notes copiously. “Did you see the lead?”

  “No.” He was annoyed with himself for not following through. “I needed to get Robbie to the hospital.”

  “That was the right thing to do, Jeremy.” She kept writing. “Can you give me the exact location of the file cabinet?”

  “Not exact. It was about halfway back into the file room. You’ll see it out of line. And Robbie was bleeding, so there should be blood on the floor.”

  She glanced again at his pants pocket. “And you believe your parents’ murder is somehow connected to the incident in the file room?”

  “I’m sure of
it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Robbie was getting closer to the answer. We’d been in the file room the other night. Someone booby-trapped the file cabinet knowing either Robbie or I would be back to look through the old Castillo audit papers.”

  “Then what about Marina? Did the murderer also believe Marina was onto him? And how could he possibly know Marina would be coming here tonight?”

  “It wasn’t Marina he intended to kill.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He thought Marina was Elise.”

  Lieber stopped writing. She pushed her hair away from her eye. “I know you believe the murderer has targeted Elise, but you need to help me out here, Jeremy. How could he have made that mistake?”

  “The sweatshirt. Elise was wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt, just like the one Marina had on. And they all saw her wearing it.”

  “Who are ‘they’?”

  “On the yacht, when she found the papers, Elise was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. Enrique and Liliam Castillo and Bud and Irv all saw her.”

  Lieber finished writing something on her pad and closed it. She seemed to be in a rush. “You’ve been a big help. Why don’t you go to your grandfather’s house and get some rest? I’ll try to get some more cars over there to keep an eye on things.”

  “I think I’ll just stay here.”

  She shook her head in that disapproving way his mother had, put the pad into her handbag, and made her way through the backyard to the front of the house. He heard her car pull out and speed away.

  He was dizzy when he stood up. Dizzy, sick, disoriented. A lot like he’d felt when he’d come home after his parents had been killed. He stumbled past the crowd of neighbors who stood behind the yellow crime-scene tape. They were staring at him, but he didn’t turn to meet their eyes. What were they thinking? A cursed house? A cursed family? Three deaths— murders— in less than two months.

  Why weren’t they stoning him? “Get out of our neighborhood! Leave us alone with your blood, violence, and drama.”

  He tripped as he walked. Drunk. They must think he’s drunk.

  “Jeremy.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out Liliam and Enrique Castillo. He quickened his pace.

  There was a crime-scene group gathered around an old yellow Toyota a short distance from the park. Marina’s car. She’d left it here. Had the murderer seen her walking from the park and thought it was Elise leaving her hiding place in the banyan tree?

  Jeremy stepped through the soggy park ground, wet leaves sticking to his sneakers. Dizzy. He was so dizzy. He crawled into the “grotto” where he and Elise had huddled together the evening before. It was damp and smelled too fresh, like someone had tilled dirt and thick red worms, exposing what should have been kept buried.

  He rested his head against a protruding root. A ray of morning light pushed past the dense trees and found its way into his hiding place.

  Marina’s letter seemed to be throbbing against his leg like the telltale heart in the Edgar Allen Poe story.

  The folded envelope was stuck together. He pulled the two corners apart. Marina’s blood had spread from the crease outward creating a symmetrical pattern, like a Rorschach test. It reminded Jeremy of butterfly wings.

  And he thought about the butterfly tattoo at the base of her neck. How he would lick it and taste her salty sweat. He tore open the sealed envelope. Sealed with her own saliva just hours before. He pictured her small round mouth, the tiny crease between her eyebrows, her wild, wonderful hair.

  Oh Marina. Oh God.

  The letter was written on yellow legal paper in her all-caps handwriting. How familiar it was to him. All those charts listing suspects and motives. Had she really intended to help him or had it simply been the spider’s way of keeping the fly in her web?

  Mon amour:

  I’m going away. That will be a big relief to you. Perhaps I should have left sooner. When your father had wanted me to go. At least I would have spared you the pain I’ve caused you.

  I cannot leave without telling you some things about your father. Yes, he was a man, like most men, who didn’t have the strength to resist a woman’s seduction. But ultimately, he did. And not because of your mother or his marriage. No, Jeremy. Your father was no saint, but he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing you. Of losing your respect should you ever learn of his human weakness.

  He cared about you more than you realize. It was you he was always talking about. Yes, sometimes in frustration, but mainly with pride. He once said. “My son has the character to become the man I’ve been too weak to be.”

  He loved you, Jeremy.

  Marina

  Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut. His father hadn’t really said that. Marina had just been trying to fix what she had destroyed between him and his father.

  He loved you, Jeremy.

  But he knew the letter was the truth. His father had loved him.

  But that still wasn’t enough to numb the hurt.

  Chapter 46

  Liliam had decided on a black St. John’s knit suit with gold buttons after rejecting a low-cut cashmere sweater set and a pastel silk dress. Neither the sex kitten nor the ingénue seemed the right choice under the circumstances. Batting her eyelashes and faking tears wouldn’t achieve her purpose. She was playing for keeps this time.

  She waited with Dwight in the alcove outside the PCM partners’ offices. He was picking at the bandage over his nose like a nervous child. Had she made a mistake involving him? Certainly not. People tended to underestimate her, but Liliam always had things well in hand.

  That’s why she’d asked Dwight to draw up the papers weeks ago. She didn’t know when she’d have the opportunity to set her plan in motion, but she had wanted to be ready when the time came. And now, it had.

  “They’ll be with you in just a moment,” Bud’s secretary said, appearing noiselessly from around the corner. “Can I get you anything, Mrs. Castillo?” Gladys, in her outdated glasses, looked straight through Dwight as though he were invisible. “Coffee? A soft drink?”

  “How kind of you to offer, Gladys, but I’m fine. And again, thank you. I know I’m intruding without an appointment.”

  “Mr. McNally and Mr. Luria are always happy to make time for you, Mrs. Castillo.”

  The door to Bud’s office opened and the firm’s managing partner, looking crisp and energetic, filled the hallway with his presence. “Liliam, what an unexpected pleasure.” Bud took her hand in both of his. “Dwight, nice to see you, too. Why don’t you both come into my office? Irv’s already here.” Bud glanced at his assistant. “Thank you, Gladys. Hold our calls, please.”

  Irv, looking sullen and gray as though he’d binged on prunes, had the good grace to stand and acknowledge Liliam’s presence when she entered the room.

  “Nice shiner,” Bud said to Dwight. “I’d hate to see the other guy’s fist.”

  “My nephew,” Dwight said, settling himself into a chair.

  “Jeremy hit you?”

  “I was worried about his sister and went to check on her. My nephew attacked me because I let myself in.”

  “You have a key to the Stroeb’s house?”

  “Several, actually, from when I had the locks changed. And now I’ll probably have this damn tattoo the rest of my life. ” He opened his hand, revealing the outline of a key branded into his palm. “Look at this.” He covered the outline precisely with a silver key he’d taken from his pocket. Liliam had seen his little performance before, but Bud seemed fascinated.

  “He practically broke my hand.”

  “How terrible.” Bud leaned forward and picked the key up out of Dwight’s hand. He examined it, placed it back over its outline, then picked it up again and twirled it through his fingers.

  “What a mistake his parents made naming him as guardian.”

  Liliam cleared her throat.

  “I’m sorry,” Dwight said. “These are my problems.”

  “Well,” said Bud. �
��I’m sure you’ll work things out.” He turned his attention to her. “So Liliam, I understand you’re here on urgent business.”

  “Enrique’s left,” she said.

  Bud cocked his head and scowled slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “Packed his bags and left. And not just an overnight bag. Two large suitcases.”

  “When was this?” Bud’s voice was even. She couldn’t tell if he was concerned.

  “Some time this morning. After they found that dead girl at the Stroebs’ house.”

  “Fuck,” Irv said.

  “Did he say anything?” Bud said, ignoring his loutish partner. “Where he was going? Why?”

  “Not a word. I didn’t even realize he was gone until I returned home from the gym. Then I went up to our bedroom and sensed something was wrong. I opened his closets and found his clothes and the luggage missing.”

  “No note?” Bud asked. “Anything to indicate where he went?”

  “I’m sure he’s gone to the Olympus Grande. It’s always been his obsession.”

  Irv looked over at Bud, who ignored the glance.

  “Ordinarily,” Liliam said, “I wouldn’t be concerned. Except this time, I don’t think he’s coming back.”

  “What makes you say that?” Bud asked.

  “He hasn’t been himself since the murders. I think he’s had a breakdown and I’m worried. Not just for me and Carlos— we can take care of ourselves— but for the company. I’m worried about Castillo Enterprises.”

  “That’s very selfless of you, Liliam,” Bud said. “Castillo Enterprises is important to me. I don’t know if you realize this, Bud, Irv, but I’ve been the wind beneath Enrique’s wings. I’m the reason Castillo Enterprises is what it is today.”

  “I’ve never minimized your role in the success of the company, Liliam,” Bud said. “I know about your tireless work at SWEET, your zealousness in encouraging your husband’s endeavors.”

  Liliam wasn’t sure whether he was bullshitting her, but she smiled. “Thank you, Bud. In any event, what was Enrique thinking? That the company will run itself in his absence?”

  Bud looked disturbed. “So you believe Castillo Enterprises is at risk?”