by Edie Claire
Leigh said nothing.
"And then there was 'Hillel-on-the-Harley.' How realistic was that?"
"He was a philosopher."
"He peddled pot at the middle school."
"He did not!"
"And of course there was that exchange student who was some sort of royalty in the Middle East—"
"I never even went out with him!"
"No, but you tried. Wonder what you were looking for there?"
Leigh humphed. "And your point is?"
Warren took a breath and looked at her. "Haven't you ever asked yourself why you're attracted exclusively to men who aren't right for you?"
She looked at him and scowled. They had had this discussion before. "I have my criteria."
"Uh huh. And they're right out of the Big Book of Fairy Tales. Handsome, swashbuckling, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Jousting ability might still be in there, too. Am I close?"
Leigh crossed her arms over her chest. She really didn't have any criteria. She always just figured she'd know a good thing when she saw it. But that plan didn't seem to be working out too well.
"If I'm waiting for a knight in shining armor," she said defensively, "that's my business."
"Wait for whomever you want," Warren answered wearily. "But as far as I can tell, your current criteria are good at only one thing—screening out anyone you might actually be happy with." He moved off the couch and collected the papers Leigh had knocked onto the floor, then sighed and looked at her thoughtfully. "Maybe that is what you really want. Have you ever thought about that?"
The words hung in the air for a moment, then Leigh rose. She was done with the topic, as of now. Her eyes rested on the package, and she picked it up and plunked it into Warren's hands. "From your latest, Mr. Harmon. Katharine asked me to give this to you."
Warren looked at the package and smiled. "Did she? How nice." He rose and put it on the kitchen counter.
"Aren't you going to open it?" Leigh asked. He hadn't even shaken it.
"Sure I will," he answered. "Just as soon as you leave."
Leigh's face reddened. It really wasn't any of her business, was it? Sure it was. She tried again. "I figured you must have left something important over at her place, so I thought I'd get it to you as soon as possible."
Warren's face assumed the tight look it got whenever he was trying to hide a grin. "That was very thoughtful of you, Leigh."
She waited another few seconds, then sighed and said goodbye. Get him talking about her problems, and he'd lecture for hours. Try to get something interesting out of him, and he'd clam up. It figured.
***
Maura looked at the phone with chagrin. She didn't like private investigation—too much deception. She didn't like lying and she wasn't good at it. But getting the information she needed without lying was no small challenge.
The phone rang twice before it was answered by an unenthusiastic secretary. "National Zoo, Personnel. This is Rhonda, may I help you?"
"Yes, I hope you can," Maura began, using the maternal tone she reserved for delivering bad news. "I'm trying to get in touch with one of your employees. I'm afraid that a close friend of hers here in Pittsburgh has died."
"You talking about Kristin Yates?" the secretary offered.
Maura's spirits rose. This would be easy after all. The woman hadn't even bothered to ask her name.
"Yes, that's her. Is she aware of her friend's death, then?"
"Don't know," the woman answered. "She's not here."
Maura plowed on. "Oh? She quit?"
The woman sniffed. "She never started. She was supposed to start last week, but she called off sick. Then she called again and asked if she could wait till next week to start."
"Do you remember what day she called last?"
The woman sighed. "Thursday or Friday, I don't remember. Look, who are you, anyway? I already went through this once. Are you a Pittsburgh cop?"
"I'm with the Avalon, PA police department," Maura answered honestly. She wasn't supposed to be misrepresenting herself as a cop, but in this case, she'd be misrepresenting herself to deny it. "Thank you. You've been quite helpful."
"Yeah, whatever." The woman hung up without ceremony.
Maura returned the phone to its cradle and drummed her fingers on the receiver. So, Kristin Yates hadn't shown up for work yet. Perhaps she wasn't in D.C. at all. Perhaps she never had been.
Chapter 16
As she always did when in Avalon, Leigh drove past the Koslow Animal Clinic just to see what was going on. It was a little past seven, and the evening clients were starting to pile up. An older man approached the door, leading a medium-sized mutt on a rope leash and carrying a small paper bag. Leigh smiled. It was Mr. Coleman. He looked a lot older and had gotten a new dog, but she'd know him anywhere. No matter what his dog's problem was, he always brought a little sample, just in case. One Christmas, he'd even tied a bow on the bag.
Leigh passed the clinic and drove on to Maura's house, feeling a little queasy. Maura had wanted to talk to her about the case, and she hadn't sounded particularly happy. When she opened the door, she didn't look particularly happy either.
"Hey, Koslow. Thanks for coming. Sorry to make you drive out, but I couldn't leave Mom, and I didn't want to get into this over the phone."
Leigh waved off the apology. "It's my nightmare, why shouldn't I be the one to do the driving? Besides, you look beat."
"Beat" was an understatement. Maura looked like death warmed over. The bags under her eyes had merged with her apple cheeks, which were considerably paler than they should have been. Her eyes themselves were bloodshot, and her lids looked heavy. Worst of all, Maura was slouching, which was particularly unusual. She had always been proud of her height.
"I'm fine," she answered vaguely, motioning for Leigh to have a seat at the table. "Do you want something to drink?"
"No," Leigh insisted, sitting. "But if I do, I'll get it myself. When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"
"I don't know," Maura said dismissively, picking up some papers from the desk. "Look, I called you out here because I think you ought to know that Kristin Yates never started her job at the zoo in DC. Most likely, she's been here in Pittsburgh the whole time."
Leigh's earlier nausea returned with a vengeance.
"You said that Kristin was the scary type and that you'd known her in high school," Maura continued. "Anything more you can tell me?"
Leigh took a deep breath, the horse-faced image looming large in her mind. "I first met her in middle school, actually, but I never really knew her that well." She described the formaldehyde incident. "In retrospect, I don't think Kristin was ever out to get me. More likely she didn't even know who I was; she almost certainly wouldn't recognize me now. But she was part of a tough group of girls that most of us went out of our way to avoid."
"A gang?"
"Nothing that organized. The membership came and went. Carmen hung out with them sometimes, but Carmen was more of a lone wolf. Kristin was the ringleader, the one they all gathered around outside in the smoking area. I used to watch them out the windows as I was walking down the back staircase. Kristin was the queen of mean. She'd sit on the concrete block wall out there, puffing away. The others would form a semicircle around her, most of them standing, making wild gestures. I used to try to guess what they were talking about." I used to wonder if they were talking about me.
Leigh didn't add the last part. Maura already thought she was paranoid. "I don't know everything Kristin was into, but I know she and her cronies beat up a few girls. There were also a lot of things stolen at the school, though Carmen had a hand in that also, I'm sure. Outside of school—who knows. She was probably into drugs, maybe she hung out with older men. I don't know."
"What about her relationship with Carmen?" Maura asked.
"Carmen didn't talk about her a lot." But I used to try to get her to. Leigh remembered well the nagging fear she'd carried for years. She had
always wanted to know what Kristin was doing—sort of like keeping tabs on the enemy. In a way, she supposed that was part of what drove her to stay on Carmen's good side. An ally among Kristin's friends couldn't hurt. Unfortunately, Carmen wasn't anyone's ally.
"I think Kristin wanted Carmen to be her friend," Leigh explained. "The other girls she had in her pocket, but Carmen was a challenge. Carmen could have had her own circle of admirers gathering round, but she never sat still long enough. Carmen was sophisticated and worldly in a way even the toughest of the tough couldn't mimic. She was independent. She didn't need anybody. She didn't care."
"That does sound like an antisocial personality," Maura commented.
"When Lisa Moran told me that Kristin was Carmen's only friend, I wasn't surprised. Kristin wanted that. But I doubt Carmen looked at Kristin the same way."
Maura nodded. "And the grown-up Kristin? Did the other keepers talk much about her?"
Leigh frowned. "They talked about her like she was normal. Easy to work with. Career-oriented, even. I find that hard to believe."
Maura shrugged. "Maturity can change people, if their behavior is halfway normal. Simple intimidation and adolescent power games are one thing. If she was torturing cats, that's another."
Leigh shivered. In high school, she wouldn't have put anything past Kristin. But it was possible that she might have exaggerated the evilness of her foe—just a little. On the other hand, if it was Kristin's car that was seen leaving Tanner's cabin…
"Do you think Kristin killed Carmen and Stacey?" Leigh asked suddenly.
Maura looked thoughtful, but shook her head. "I can't say. We don't know for sure that the murders were related, much less done by the same person. You know of a motive?"
"It could be anything," Leigh said tiredly. "Carmen was capable of anything. She managed to alienate, offend, or enrage almost everyone she knew at one time or another. Kristin was supposedly her only friend. But even friends have limits, right? And as for Stacey, I'm surprised she lived as long as she did. She was a whiny, weasely, money-grubbing, self-centered pain in the ass."
"Do your case a favor, Koslow," Maura said with a grin. "Don't volunteer your opinion of Stacey to the police."
Leigh stifled the next comment she'd planned to make, and changed gears. "I do know of a motive someone else might have, at least for Carmen's murder," she began, and recounted her meetings with Tish and Leo Martin.
Maura listened intently. "Have you told Katharine about this?"
Leigh hadn't had a chance yet. Maura pressed her to do so, explaining that the more alternative scenarios the defense could present, the greater their chance of inspiring reasonable doubt. She finished her speech with a yawn.
"I'd better take off," Leigh said quickly, looking at her watch. "You need your sleep."
Maura gave a sideways smile. "No sleep for me tonight, Koslow. Mom should be up any minute."
Leigh's eyebrows rose. "Up?"
"Yep," Maura answered matter-of-factly. "I told you her day-night cycle is off, remember?"
Leigh did. "But you and your aunts are spelling each other, right?"
"Yes," Maura answered, sounding grateful. "They're doing all they can."
Leigh knew Maura well enough to interpret the statement correctly. Maura had been up at night, every night. No wonder she looked like hell.
Leigh dug around in the pocket of her jeans and produced her keys, then peeled off two. "Here," she said, handing them to Maura.
"Here what?" the policewoman asked, puzzled.
"Chez Koslow is open for business, free of charge. There's no hot tub, but lucky for you I just changed the sheets, and there might even be fresh milk in the fridge."
Maura smiled sadly. "Thanks, Koslow. But you know I can't leave Mom."
"And why not?" Leigh protested. "I'm no registered nurse, but I can keep your mom company and make sure she doesn't wander. She and I go way back, you know. It'll be like a slumber party. Just point me toward the coffee, and I'm set."
Maura wavered, and Leigh pressed.
"I do owe your mother my life, remember? Or at least a limb or two. Besides, I have nothing to do tomorrow but sleep. I'm taking some time off from Hook, and zoo security has orders to shoot me on sight. So get out of here already."
Maura swallowed. "I should at least stay with you, just in case—"
"Forget it," Leigh said firmly. "You need a change of scenery." And to sleep without one eye open and both ears craned for the slightest sound. "Go."
The policewoman hesitated only a moment, then reached out and took the keys. "Thanks, Koslow," she said wearily.
Leigh smiled.
***
Maura awoke the next morning to the sound of her watch alarm, telling her that if she went directly from her bed to the shower to the street—eating a breakfast bar or two on the way—she could just make it to the station on time. Unfortunately, that particular timing pattern only worked when she lived three blocks from the station. To make it from Leigh's Ross apartment, the shower would have to go.
She shook her head to clear the cobwebs, but they were amazingly thick. Her watch assured her it was morning; her body disagreed. Not that she hadn't slept—she had collapsed onto Leigh's bed around 8:30 PM and hadn't moved since. But with her accumulated sleep debt, such a stretch was just a teaser.
She dragged her backpack into the bathroom and emerged ten minutes later with a fresh uniform and clean teeth. The promised milk was waiting in the refrigerator, and she downed a glass hungrily. The breakfast bars she'd have to pick up on the way. Ready to head out, she went to the bar counter to collect the keys she'd tossed there last night.
They weren't there. She walked around the bar, looking at the kitchen floor on the other side. Nothing.
Her brow furrowed. She had tossed them on the counter—she was certain of that. The cat could have moved them, assuming her imperial highness had ever come out from under the bed. Did cats play with keys?
Maura searched fruitlessly around the floor of the apartment, her wariness increasing. Finally she walked to the door and bent down to examine the pattern of light filtering through the crack between the door and its frame. The deadbolt wasn't locked.
Had she been so groggy she'd forgotten to lock it? No—locking doors at night was second nature to her, if more to keep her mother in than strangers out. She had locked it. She was sure of it.
She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and carefully opened the door. Pulling it into the room, she examined the outside of the deadbolt and sighed. There were scratches around the keyhole—fresh ones. The apartment had been broken into.
She turned and surveyed Leigh's living area and kitchen, but hadn't a clue what it had looked like last night. Had she even turned the kitchen light on? Nothing appeared to be out of place—no open cabinets, no overturned drawers. She knew of nothing that was missing except the keys, but if something else had been taken, she wouldn't be able to tell.
Damn! Had she slept that soundly? By all accounts, yes. At home she'd slept lightly, forcing herself to listen for signs of trouble. But last night, in different surroundings, she'd been blissfully able to turn off her brain. Once out, she was way out—it wouldn't surprise her if she'd slept through her own alarm.
She looked out into the hallway, but knew it was a pointless action. Whoever the intruder had been, he or she was long gone. She closed the door and trudged over to the telephone. There was no point in minimizing the break-in. It could be simple vandalism, but where Leigh Koslow was concerned, nothing was ever simple. In the last week alone she'd gotten arrested for one murder and narrowly escaped charges on another. The intruder could be someone involved in the murders—or a distant relative trying to hide snuff in the toilet tank. With Koslow, one never knew.
The Ross Township Police arrived promptly, and Maura began a calm explanation. She was about halfway through it when an extra—and uninvited— branch of law enforcement pulled in. Detective Gerald Frank walked through the ope
n door with a look of surprise—and annoyance. "Leuthold!" He interrupted the older of the two officers talking to Maura with a none-too-pleased tone. "What the hell's going on here?"
Sergeant Leuthold, who did not seem unduly disturbed by the detective's outburst, answered pleasantly. "Had a break-in last night. What's up with you guys?"
Frank's gaze passed over Maura without interest. She was just another uniform in the crowd. "Search warrant," he growled. "Where's Leigh Koslow?"
Maura rose from the couch where she and Sergeant Leuthold had been sitting. "She's at my house. I'm Maura Polanski, Avalon PD."
"What's she doing there?" Frank demanded sourly.
"Taking care of my mother. She hasn't been here all night—I stayed here."
"You two friends?" he asked caustically.
"Since college."
Frank's dark eyes bounced from Maura to Sergeant Leuthold and back. "You were staying here—and someone broke in?"
"Right."
"Did you see them?"
"No."
"Anything taken?"
"The apartment keys. Past that, I wouldn't know."
Frank's gaze was penetrating enough to bore holes in her head. "How do you know Miss Koslow herself didn't pick the locks?"
Maura returned an unfaltering, studying gaze. He was sharp all right. If he was even halfway honest, he'd eventually see his mistakes where Koslow was concerned. He just needed a little help.
"I don't know that she didn't, Detective. I told you, I was asleep."
Frank's eyes narrowed, and Maura knew she'd scored a point. As she had guessed, this man respected objectiveness above blind loyalty.
"Have you contacted her about the break-in?" he asked.
"No," Maura answered, "not yet."
He stepped closer to her. "And why not?"
Maura didn't hesitate. "Because I didn't want her coming over here until after the officers had had a look around." Freaking out and messing up evidence.
Frank stepped back, the softening in his gaze assuring Maura that she was on the right track. His mouth slowly curved up, and he chuckled. "Sounds like you know her pretty well."
