The Next Victim (Kali O'Brien series)

by Jonnie Jacobs

The woman jumped and looked up. “Oh! I didn’t hear you coming. Yes, I’m Alicia. Are you here to see Mr. O’Brien? He’s”— she brushed the ash blond hair from her face, her expression sober—”he isn’t available right now.”

  Kali pulled up a chair. “I know. I’m his sister, Kali O’Brien.”

  “Oh.” Alicia appeared flustered, then distraught. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

  “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

  “I’m really sorry about what happened. If there’s any way I can help . . .”

  “Thank you. This must be a difficult time for you, too.”

  Alicia nodded and took a deep breath. “It is. He was a great boss. Demanding sometimes, but always fair. And if I messed up, he didn’t yell or anything. Just told me to make it right.”

  “How long have you worked for John?”

  “I started about a month after he did. That would be a little over three years now.” She blinked back tears. “Sorry. Seems like all I’ve been dong lately is crying. First Mrs. Winslow, now your brother. And I’m a terrible crier. None of this dainty, Victorian stuff for me. My eyes get red, my nose runs, my face turns all blotchy.” She fanned her face with her hand as if to stop the flow of tears. “I don’t want to get started again.”

  “You knew Sloane Winslow, too?”

  “Right.” Alicia reached for a tissue. “We’re a small group here. Everyone knows everyone else. And now two deaths . . .” She ran a hand along the edge of her desk, avoiding Kali’s gaze. “I know what they’re saying about your brother, but I don’t believe it. Not for a minute.”

  “The police seem to think it’s because Sloane was trying to get John fired.”

  “I know. And that part’s true. At least according to the rumor mill. We all knew there were bad feelings between them, but I don’t see John shooting her.”

  “What was Sloane like?”

  Alicia bit her lower lip. “Let’s just say she had opinions and she wasn’t afraid to share them.”

  Kali offered a conspiratorial smile. “Difficult to get along with?”

  “A bit, for those who worked with her directly”—Alicia returned the smile—”which thankfully wasn’t me. But I don’t think people actively disliked her. It’s more like they were afraid of her. Always on their best behavior where she was concerned.”

  “Nobody with a specific grudge?” Kali asked. “Someone she reprimanded, or denied a raise to?”

  “I can’t think of anyone. She wasn’t really involved in the day- to-day operations. She had an office here and all, and she was a director of the company, but there was no one she supervised or anything.”

  “Didn’t she have a secretary?”

  “She’s had a couple of them.” Alicia pressed her lips together. “I shouldn’t really be talking bad about her, but truth is, she burned through them pretty fast. It doesn’t make a lot of sense that one of them had anything to do with her death, though.”

  Maybe, Kali thought, though murder rarely made sense to anyone but the person committing the crime. She’d have to ask the detectives if they’d looked into the secretarial angle.

  “One of the things that seems to have caught the cops’ eye,” Kali said, “was an argument John and Sloane had over dinner the night she was killed. You wouldn’t have any idea what that was about, would you?”

  Alicia shook her head. “I know Sloane was wired about something, though.”

  “Wired?”

  “Tense. On edge. Short with everybody. It wouldn’t surprise me if whatever they were talking about turned into an argument.”

  Except that in the cops’ scenario John was the one who was angry. Angry enough to drive over to Sloane’s house hours later and kill her.

  “If John and Sloane didn’t get along,” Kali asked, “why were they having dinner?”

  “Beats me.” Alicia pursed her lips. “The dinner was actually a last-minute thing. Mrs. Winslow tried all morning to reach your brother but he was in a meeting. He called her back later that afternoon, and I heard him tell her to meet him for dinner at Jack’s Bistro.”

  Another woman approached and greeted Alicia. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m going out for a latte. You want anything?”

  “A mocha, double shot of espresso.”

  “With whipped cream?”

  Alicia laughed. “You have to ask?” She turned to Kali. “Would you like something?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  When the other woman had gone, Kali said, “I’d like to gather a few of my brother’s personal things, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure.” Alicia had obviously not been coached by the higher- ups. “The cops already took some stuff,” she added.

  “Do you know what?”

  “Sorry, no. You want me to get you a box?”

  “I’m not sure I’ll need one. I’ll let you know if I do.”

  <><><>

  Alone in John’s office, Kali felt the palpable presence of a brother she’d hardly known. She sat in his chair, ran her hands over the glossy wood surface of his desktop, and tried to conjure up a mental picture of John the executive. All she could come up with were childhood images of a lanky, self-absorbed brother with a devilish grin, and a few memories of his last visit to the Bay Area two years ago. She’d been involved in a trial at the time but they’d managed a couple of nice dinners—one in San Francisco and another one locally at Kali’s favorite East Bay restaurant, Bay Wolf—and a hike up Mt. Tam on a windy day when the air was threaded with fog. They’d had a good time, Kali reminded herself. Maybe not a warm and fuzzy Hallmark visit, but a good one nonetheless.

  And now John was dead. Whatever thoughts and sentiments they hadn’t yet shared would remain locked away forever.

  Kali shook herself free from the memories and started in on John’s desk. She peered into all the drawers, read the notations on his calendar, even checked the underside of his blotter. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she figured the more she learned about her brother, the better.

  Half an hour later she concluded her efforts had been futile. She’d found nothing about Sloane, nothing about the murders, and very little of a personal nature. She had no better understanding of her brother than she’d had before.

  She gathered the few items she thought worth holding on to— John’s framed college diploma, a leather-bound dictionary that had been a high school graduation gift from their parents, an abstract bronze sculpture that was on the credenza, and the extra sports jacket and pair of shoes he’d stashed behind the door, though the sentimental value of the last two items was debatable.

  As she reached to turn out the light, the shoes and the dictionary slid from Kali’s grasp and clattered to the floor. When she bent to retrieve them, a photograph fell from between the pages of the dictionary onto the carpet. Kali picked it up.

  It was a standard four-by-six size. A glossy color print of three girls who looked to be in their mid to late teens. The girls were clowning for the camera, their heads close. The one on the left was dark and exotic looking, the one on the right, a flaming redhead. The girl in the center had light brown hair and a purplish bruise along the right side of her neck and jaw.

  It was an upper-torso shot and the girls were dressed in bathing suits. All three had figures that would draw stares.

  Alicia appeared at the doorway. “Everything okay in here?”

  Kali slid the photo into her purse. “Sorry, I was trying to do too many things with too few hands.”

  “You sure you don’t want a box?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” She gathered the fallen items in her arms and left.

  As soon as she was back in the privacy of her car, Kali pulled out the photo and took another look. It was definitely a contemporary photo, not a relic from John’s college days. She turned it over and saw an Epson watermark on the back. A digital snapshot printed at home. The sort of friends-and-family photo that filled albums in households across America. But th
ese girls weren’t family and they were too young to qualify as John’s real friends. What’s more, the photo wasn’t in an album; it was hidden away between the pages of a dictionary in his office.

  There was undoubtedly a simple explanation. Nonetheless, Kali found the discovery unsettling.

  Chapter 9

  Kali’s cell phone rang as she sat in the car.

  “It’s me,” Sabrina said. She’d remained at John’s house that morning to begin the arduous task of sorting through records and notifying people of his death.

  “How’s it going?” Kali asked.

  “I’m making progress but it’s tough. This is John’s personal stuff, his handwriting, his life.”

  “I’ll be able to help you this afternoon.”

  “Good,” Sabrina said. “You can handle the phone calls, too.”

  “What phone calls?”

  “Reporters.”

  She should have known that was coming. “What have you told them?”

  “Nothing,” Sabrina bristled. “Except I told the first one that we don’t believe John killed anyone. After that, I gave up answering the phone.”

  “Good move. Another day or so and John’s death will be old news.”

  “Not to us.”

  “No, not to us,” Kali agreed. “I’m going to pay Detective Shafer another visit. Want to come along?”

  “Not particularly. But come home after that, will you? Without my car, I’m stuck here. I can’t even go shopping.”

  “Shopping?”

  “For groceries.” Sabrina sounded indignant, but Kali wasn’t entirely sure that food had been on her mind initially. “What did Reed say?”

  “He wasn’t there. I was thinking we might try his home later this afternoon. It would be a good idea if you came along since you know him better.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Look up the nearest rental car place,” Kali suggested. “We’ll stop there, too. It’s probably best if we each have a car anyway.”

  “I still don’t see why you won’t use John’s.”

  Kali wasn’t sure she understood it either. In part, it was the Porsche thing—powerful, expensive cars made her nervous. But the fact that the car was John’s added to her reluctance. She had more trouble articulating that reason, even to herself. She just didn’t want to drive his Porsche.

  “I’d just rather rent a car, okay?”

  “Okay. Jeesh, you don’t have to bite my head off.”

  <><><>

  Detective Shafer wasn’t available, but his partner, Michelle Parker, was. That was fine by Kali. Parker was female and close to Kali’s own age. Moreover, she’d struck Kali as a warm person as well as a competent cop. Kali had liked her in spite of the circumstances.

  She met Kali at the intake counter and led her back to a room with half a dozen desks, most unoccupied right then. In the far corner, two men were conferring in front of a computer monitor.

  “I appreciate your talking with me again, Detective Parker.”

  “Michelle, please. I just fixed myself some tea. Can I get you a cup?”

  “No thanks, but you go ahead.”

  The detective took a seat at one of the desks and gestured to a chair for Kali. She picked up her mug, which was oversized and emblazoned with a large red pig in police uniform. “My sister’s idea of humor,” she said, with a wry smile.

  “She doesn’t approve of your job?”

  “She thinks I’m nuts. No chance to wear good clothes for one thing. And the shoes”—Michelle lifted a foot in its sturdy thick- soled boot—”atrocious.”

  “Sounds a lot like my sister.”

  The detective sipped her tea. “Do the two of you get along?”

  “Depends on the day,” Kali said, with a laugh. “Sabrina’s married with three kids. A stay-at-home mom who thinks criminal defense work is the same as being a criminal.”

  Michelle’s brow creased. “That’s what you do, criminal defense?”

  “Among other things.” Kali wasn’t interested in discussing particulars of her legal practice with a detective whose views on the matter might not be all that different from Sabrina’s.

  The detective leaned back in her chair and cradled her mug. Yesterday her hair had been loose. Today, she’d pinned it back, accentuating the delicate planes of her face. “Are you of the camp that thinks cops bend the rules?” she asked.

  “Sometimes they do,” Kali told her. “But mostly I have great respect for them.”

  Michelle Parker grinned like she wasn’t sure she believed it but she was willing to play along. “I think about going to law school sometimes.”

  “Not, I take it, to become a defense attorney.”

  They both laughed.

  “So what can I do for you? Something about your brother? I’m afraid we don’t have any new information.”

  “It’s about Sloane Winslow’s murder.”

  “Nothing new on that, either.” The detective looked at her over the top of her mug. “Unless there’s something you want to tell us?”

  Kali shook her head. “It’s just that my sister and I weren’t thinking clearly yesterday. We didn’t get all the facts.”

  “Detective Shafer laid it out pretty well, I thought.”

  “Only in broad brushstrokes. There was nothing conclusive that pointed to John.”

  Michelle set her mug on the desk. “What did you have in mind?”

  Physical evidence, Kali thought. Something besides circumstantial innuendo, though she knew full well that you could build and win a case without it.

  “What about John’s gun?” Kali asked. “Were you able to tie it to the murders?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

  “A shotgun isn’t like a handgun,” Michelle explained. “We can’t say with certainty which specific shotgun was used to commit a crime.”

  “I understand that.”

  “But his was the same gauge as used in the murders. And it had been recently cleaned and oiled.”

  From a defense standpoint Kali could think of any number of innocent explanations, but she knew that’s not how the police would see it. “What did my brother say?”

  “He told us he’d been target shooting.”

  “Sounds reasonable. That would also account for the powder residue you discovered on his clothing.”

  Michelle nodded. “Reasonable. And rather clever, really, if he actually went target shooting.”

  The perfect cover, in other words. Maybe they could show the gun had been fired recently, but there was no way they could prove it had been fired at Sloane Winslow.

  Kali rubbed her bare arms to warm them. A hundred degrees outside, and now she wished she’d worn a sweater. How did anyone ever know how to dress around here?

  “Were there other people you considered suspects besides my brother?”

  “Suspects, no. But we did question a number of folks.”

  “Including the string of secretaries Sloane pissed off?”

  Michelle gave her an amused smile. “Including them.”

  “And there was nothing that raised any red flags?”

  “No, I can’t say there was.”

  Not that the detective would tell her, even if she was female, close to Kali’s age, and had a flaky sister. That kind of bonding only took you so far. “What makes you so sure it wasn’t a random burglary?” Kali asked.

  “Nothing was taken, for one thing. But more important, there was no sign of forced entry.” Michelle leaned forward, forearms on her desk. She wore no jewelry except for a black sports watch. “I know it must be hard for you. We never want to believe the worst about people we’re close to.”

  “Why didn’t you arrest him if you were so sure he did it?”

  “We were getting there. The DA wanted a few loose ends wrapped up first.”

  “So the investigation into Sloane’s murder is closed?” Kali asked.

  “Not officially. But, to be hone
st, we’re not going to be working it as an active case anymore. If new evidence comes to light, sure we’ll investigate. But we’ve got other crimes to deal with. Including, sadly, other homicides.”

  And they could count this one as cleared without ever having to make the allegations stick. No need even to show probable cause, which would have been necessary if they’d arrested him. They could pin it on John and be done with it.

  On the other hand, Kali knew police resources were limited. Cops worked crimes where their efforts would have the greatest effect. She couldn’t really fault them for that.

  “Speaking of which,” Michelle said, getting out of her seat, “I need to get to an appointment with the DA on another matter. Why don’t you walk me out and we can continue our conversation?”

  Kali followed the detective into the hallway and down a single flight of stairs.

  “What about the other victim?” she asked when they reached the ground floor. “A housekeeper, wasn’t she?”

  “Olivia Perez. She was a U of A student who got free rent in exchange for light housekeeping duties.”

  Kali had been picturing an older woman. An actual housekeeper, not a young woman with a full life before her. It shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did. A new heaviness lodged in her heart.

  “Kali, there’s something . . .” Michelle paused before continuing. “I may be speaking out of turn, but you should know the Perez family is exploring the possibility of a wrongful death suit.”

  “What?”

  The detective spread her hands in a gesture of acquiescence. “Olivia was only nineteen. She was the first person in her family to go to college. I think they—”

  “Want money,” Kali said tersely. “That’s the bottom line, isn’t it?”

  Michelle Parker leveled her gaze. “I imagine what they want is justice.”

  <><><>

  “God, I thought you’d never get here,” Sabrina said when Kali arrived back at John’s half an hour later. “This is just so depressing. I’ve gone through practically a whole box of tissues.”

  “I know what you’re doing is hard.” Kali was sympathetic, but she was also envious of the ease with which her sister bared her emotions. The pain Kali felt stayed locked inside like a knife in her gut. Tears would be a relief. “Why don’t we take a break and get some lunch?”