The Next Victim (Kali O'Brien series)
Page 15
Now she was really lost. “Adams? Did he say why?”
“We were working in stages,” Simon explained. “John was going to tell me more. In fact, he had something else he wanted me to check. But he died before we had a chance to discuss it.”
“When did he hire you?”
“A little over a week ago.”
Right around the time of the murders. The bite of cookie Kali had just eaten felt like lead in her stomach. Were the Adams couple involved somehow?
Simon frowned. “So the name means nothing to you?”
Kali shook her head. “My sister might know, though. Did you find these people?”
“I was able to get some of the information for him. And since he paid for it, I’d like to pass it along. That’s why I wanted to get the lay of the land first. If you and your brother were in a pissing contest—” Simon held up his hands. “Sorry, that just slipped out. What I mean is, if there was a lot of hostility in the family, well, I didn’t want to give out information that might cause more problems.”
“How do you know there’s not? Hostility, I mean?”
“Well, it’s something of a gamble, I admit. But usually I’m a pretty good judge of people.” He looked at her intently, but with that same twinkle in his eye. “You’re not going to prove me wrong, are you?”
She shook her head. “No hostility.” As for causing problems, a lot depended on what John’s interest was in Ray and Martha Adams, and who they were. She fervently hoped it wasn’t going to lead to problems.
“What makes you think he was interested in the information for himself,” Kali asked, “and not acting on behalf of his employer?”
“He was clear about that.”
Kali knotted her fingers. “So what did you find out?”
“I’ve got a report I’ll send you. The short of it is the couple divorced eleven years ago after seven years of marriage. Martha Adams died eight years later in an auto accident. Ray remarried not long after the divorce and has two kids by his second wife. He manages a Chevy dealership in San Diego.”
“How old is Ray?” Kali asked. Maybe he was someone John knew from college.
“Forty-eight. Martha was a year younger.”
That made them both older than John. “Did they have any children together?”
“One daughter. Martha got custody in the divorce, but I believe the girl went to live with her father and his new family after her mother’s death.” Simon squinted at her. “None of this rings a bell with you?”
“Not at all.”
“I was sure hoping it would. Your brother was eager to get the information. He paid a premium for expedited service.”
Fragmented thoughts and questions whirred in Kali’s brain until she thought her head might explode.
“I don’t suppose you want me to continue with the investigation?” Simon asked.
“I. . . I don’t know. Let me talk to my sister.” With luck, Sabrina would put an end to the mystery. “Do you have a card?”
Simon reached into his wallet and handed her his card. “Where shall I send the report?”
“We’re staying at John’s. You can send it there. I assume you have the address?”
Simon nodded.
“What information did John give you besides the names?” Kali asked.
“Only that they were living in Portland, Oregon, in 1991.”
Portland. John had moved around quite a bit, but Kali didn’t recall him ever living anywhere in Oregon. “And what was it he wanted to know about the couple?”
“Present whereabouts, general background, family. Pretty much what I’ve told you.”
Kali fingered Doug Simon’s card, then tucked it into her pocket. “Do you think you can get me the report soon?”
“It will probably be a couple of days, at this point, before I can get it written up.”
“I’ll be looking for it.”
<><><>
The house was quiet when Kali got back to John’s. Peter’s car was gone, and so were the Game Boys and iPods and assorted boys’ shoes that had only that morning been strewn about. She wondered for a moment if Sabrina had gone back to Scottsdale as well, then remembered she’d seen her car in the driveway.
Kali checked the living room and bedrooms, then called out Sabrina’s name.
“In here,” she answered.
Kali followed the sound and turned on the light in the darkened den when she entered. Sabrina was curled on the leather couch holding a tall glass of clear liquid in her hand. Water or vodka and tonic, and Kali was willing to bet it was the latter.
“It’s only two o’clock,” Kali said.
“So?”
“So, it’s a wee bit early, wouldn’t you say?”
“Who appointed you master of the universe?” Sabrina giggled and started to get up. She listed to the left, grabbing the arm of the sofa to steady herself. “Guess I’m a bit tipsy.”
“Honey, you’re more than tipsy. How much have you had to drink, anyway?”
“Not that much, really.” Her words were slurred. “This is only the second one, I think.”
“You think?”
“It’s not the booze,” Sabrina said. “I took some of John’s Valium. One before the service, and another when I got home.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Then one more when Peter left. Don’t lecture me, okay? It’s just that I can’t face my life. Not today. I needed a little break, is all.”
“Well, looks like you’ve got it. I just hope you don’t feel like crap tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to deal with tomorrows. Any of them. Ever.”
Kali sank onto the couch beside her.
“You want something?” Sabrina asked, wiping at her eyes. “Take your pick. Vodka or Valium, though mixing them probably wasn’t such a great idea.”
“Probably not.”
That didn’t stop Sabrina from taking another sip before offering the glass to Kali.
“No, thanks.”
“You know what my shrink would say about this, don’t you? That I’m doing it as some sort of homage to John. Pretty ironic that I drink and pop pills to deal with his doing the very same thing.”
Kali frowned as Sabrina’s earlier remark finally sank in. “What do you mean, you took John’s Valium? The cops said it was Xanax, and they confiscated what was left.”
“I know the difference,” Sabrina said indignantly. “What I took was Valium. It was in John’s medicine cabinet. Practically a full bottle.”
Kali got up and went to check. The medicine cabinet in John’s bathroom held the usual array of over-the-counter medications— aspirin, cough drops, Sudafed—as well as prescription bottles of Valium, Vicodin, and Lopressor. Kali poured the Valium into her hand and counted. Twenty-five pills.
Sabrina watched over her shoulder.
“What? You think I was lying? Jesus, Kali.”
She shook her head. “It’s not about you.”
“What are you doing, then?”
Kali returned the pills to the bottle but kept hold of it. Better not to tempt Sabrina by leaving it within easy access. “Why would John have gone and bought an unmarked baggie of Xanax on the street when he had plenty of Valium from a legitimate pharmacy? They do pretty much the same thing.”
“Beats me.”
Kali felt the tickle of something that didn’t add up. She looked up the prescribing doctor in the phone book. An internist. She called his office and left a message, though she wasn’t sure he’d tell her anything. Wasn’t sure he’d even call her back.
“By the way,” Sabrina said, “someone named Graciela called for you a while ago.”
“Did she leave a number?”
“It’s by the phone. Who is she?”
“John’s housekeeper. She was the one who found him in the pool. She was at the service today.”
Sabrina’s face clouded again. “Oh shit, the service. For a moment there I’d forgotten what was so rotten about today.”
<><><>
“It was kind of you to come to the service,” Kali told her.
“I pay my respects to Mr. John. He treat me good.” She paused before continuing. “You ask me about the morning when your brother die.”
“Yes.”
“Today I remember, but maybe it nothing.”
“Remember what?”
“When I arrive, the kitchen is messy, like Mr. John make a sandwich.”
“Right,” Kali said. “I remember you said that.”
“The jars,” Graciela continued. “Mustard and pickles and mayonnaise.”
A little bell went off in the back of Kali’s head at the same time Graciela explained.
“Your brother not eat mayonnaise. I fix him sandwich sometimes. Mustard, yes, no mayonnaise.”
It was one of John’s strong food dislikes. Why would he have had the mayonnaise out?
He wouldn’t have unless it was for someone else.
She remembered the voice she’d heard in the background when she’d called John the night he died. Not the television, after all.
Kali could feel her heart racing. She wasn’t sure what it all meant. Maybe nothing. But at the very minimum, whoever had been with John might be able to help them figure out what had happened that night. Beyond that . . . Kali shook her head to clear it. In light of what she’d just learned about John’s almost full bottle of prescription Valium, the presence of another person raised disturbing questions.
“Graciela, do you remember if the lights were on inside the house when you arrived Wednesday morning?”
“I . . . I think no. The sun is out. It’s day.”
But according to the medical examiner, it had been night when John had died. Had he stumbled around in the dark before falling into the pool, or had someone else turned the lights off on the way out?
Chapter 19
Kali could have sworn she remained awake all night, tossing and turning, her mind racing in twenty directions at once. But when the brilliant morning sun streamed through the bedroom window and jolted her from the torment of a dream, she realized she must have eventually fallen asleep. Not that it mattered. Her sleep had been as fitful as the hours preceding it.
Even now that she was awake, the suffocating grief and guilt that had peppered her dream continued to haunt her. She pulled the sheet up under her chin and turned onto her side, away from the memory, but she couldn’t shut it out.
A youthful John, laughing and joking with his friends. Kali, a part of that circle the way she never had been in life. In her dream world, she’d experienced a wonderful sense of serenity and belonging, of being loved and accepted by those around her. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she’d caught sight of John unwittingly backing toward a steep cliff while several of his faceless friends munched on ham sandwiches with mayonnaise, oblivious of the danger. Couldn’t they see what was going to happen?
Kali knew she should warn John, but she was too engrossed in flirting with a boy, whom she recognized now as Doug Simon, the private investigator. Bryce was there too, though Kali was ignoring him. Yet the whole time she was flirting with Simon, she was wishing he were Bryce. Suddenly John was in the ocean below the cliff, thrashing madly in the surf, struggling to stay afloat. He looked pleadingly into Kali’s eyes, called out to her with words she couldn’t decipher, and then, as Kali watched silently, he slipped under the surface. Kali ached with remorse, yet she made no move to save him. How could she have let John fall to his death and done nothing?
Fully awake, Kali ached still. It was a raw, gnawing pain that pervaded every fiber of her body. She couldn’t have saved him, she told herself now. Not literally, not in real life. But she wasn’t so sure that was true. At the very least, she could have tried.
And Doug Simon, what was he doing in her dream? She couldn’t imagine why she’d been flirting with him. Maybe it was what he’d told her that she’d been flirting with rather than the man himself. The strangers her brother had been looking for— Ray and Martha Adams. Had they been part of the faceless crowd? Kali couldn’t remember.
She rolled to her other side and tried shutting her eyes. By now her brain had kicked into overdrive again. Had someone been at John’s the night he died? Was that where the Xanax had come from? Several scenarios presented themselves. A small party. A buddy dropping by and a late-night snack. A drug dealer, though Kali doubted a drug like Xanax would command home delivery.
And the terrible possibility that had vaulted into her thoughts as she crawled into bed last night: that John’s death had not been an accident at all. That his visitor had had a hand in it.
Kali was now beyond sleep. She got out of bed, showered, and went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of strong coffee. No sign yet of Sabrina. Kali poked her head into her bedroom to make sure her sister was still breathing. It was the damn dream, she told herself. Now she was responsible for everyone.
She took her mug into the den and settled down at John’s desk. She and Sabrina had a meeting with John’s estate-planning attorney later that morning, and she wanted to have a handle on her brother’s finances before then.
An hour and a half later, after Kali had worked her way through two cups of coffee and most of the bank records and bills, Sabrina appeared, sleepy eyed, at the door. She was still in her yellow cotton nightgown and her face was creased from sleep.
“I’m sorry about what happened yesterday,” Sabrina said.
She sounded genuinely contrite, Kali thought, but it might just have been a hangover. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.” Sabrina leaned against the wall. “Thanks for not lecturing me, by the way. I know what I did was stupid. I promise to be better in the future.”
“It’s your life.”
Sabrina laughed, a mirthless bark. “That, unfortunately, is the crux of the problem.”
“Sitting around feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help.”
“If only I were more like you,” Sabrina said, leaning against the doorjamb. “Strong, steady, controlled.” Another forced laugh. “Thin.”
“That’s me, a paragon of virtue and fitness.” Kali stood up. It was hard to imagine Sabrina envious of her when for as long as she could remember it had been the other way around.
“Come on,” Kali said. “I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”
Sabrina padded into the kitchen after Kali. “You think it’s genetic? This tendency to escape through liquor and drugs, I mean. Dad was like that. And then John. And me.”
“Could be.”
“But not you,” Sabrina said. It wasn’t a question and it wasn’t, as far as Kali could tell, the least bit sarcastic.
“Oh, for God’s sake, I drink too much sometimes. Don’t go making me into someone I’m not.” And Kali escaped in other ways, by keeping her distance and shutting out feelings. She’d had that thrown in her face often enough.
“Besides,” she added, putting the kettle on to boil, “I’m not so sure John was escaping with booze and pills.”
“What do you mean?”
Kali wasn’t sure how much of yesterday afternoon Sabrina was able to recall. She’d been pretty out of it. “The Valium in John’s medicine cabinet, remember? And the jar of mayonnaise Graciela found on the kitchen counter.”
“Right. You were getting worked up about John’s having had company or something.”
Kali nodded. “Graciela thinks she remembers the lights being off when she arrived here that morning.”
Sabrina stretched, elbows out to her side. “That’s important?”
“Would John have turned off the lights himself while he was still up and wandering around?”
“Probably not. Not all of them, anyway. You think his friend . . . you think that . . .” The expression on Sabrina’s face shifted.
“What are you saying? That whoever was here . . .” She took a breath. “Are you
saying John’s death wasn’t an accident?”
“It raises questions, doesn’t it?”
Sabrina stared at her silently, then nodded. She collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs, her bare legs and feet spread out in front of her. “Oh, God.”
“There’s something else.” Kali told her about the PI John had hired. “Do the names Ray and Martha Adams mean anything to you?”
“Never heard of them.”
“What about Portland, Oregon? Did John have ties there?”
“Not that I know of. I’m certain he never lived there.”
The phone rang and Sabrina picked it up. She listened for a moment, then said, “I think you need to talk to my sister. She’s the attorney.” She put her hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “It’s Carmen Escobar, representing Olivia Perez’s family.”
Kali took the phone. “What can I do for you, Ms. Escobar?”
“I just wanted to make contact.” The voice was high-pitched, clipped, and strident. “As I understand it, you and your sister are John O’Brien’s next of kin.”
“That’s right.”
“I represent the parents of one of his victims, Olivia Perez. It’s our intention to file suit for damages.” Ms. Escobar raced on as if she were reading from a script. “Because of your brother’s heinous act, the Perez family has lost their only daughter, their pride and joy. Murdered in cold blood.”
Kali bristled at the tone and innuendo. “My brother was never even arrested for the crime, much less convicted. And that’s because there’s scant evidence that he had anything to do with it. You’ll have a hard time proving he was responsible.”
“Not as hard a time,” she replied smugly and much more slowly, “as you’ll have trying to convince a jury he wasn’t.”
That was unfortunately all too true. Innocent until proven guilty was a laudable concept, but verdicts often sprang from emotion. And Olivia Perez was a highly sympathetic victim—young, beautiful, hardworking. Someone who’d overcome tremendous odds and was on her way to achieving great things.
“Do her parents understand they might lose?” Kali asked. “They’ll have squandered money bringing suit for nothing.”