The Perfect Affair (A Jessie Hunt Psychological Suspense Thriller—Book Seven)

by Blake Pierce

  As unusual as the situation sounded, Jessie didn’t find it unbelievable. As someone who lost her own mother young, she knew the power of any maternal figure willing to offer emotional support and companionship. It was the reason she felt so drawn to Dr. Lemmon.

  “Can you explain something else to me?” she said. “I found both your initials on a piece of paper at her apartment but they were crossed off. Why would that be?”

  Matthew looked away but Helen stared straight at Jessie.

  “I don’t know for sure but I think I can guess,” she said softly before pausing.

  “You’ve come this far, Mrs. Zellers,” Jessie pressed. “You may as well go all the way.”

  Helen nodded, sighed deeply, and continued.

  “We’d had this arrangement for a couple of months. But about a week ago, Melissa came to me and said she didn’t feel comfortable doing…what she’d been doing with Matt anymore in light of the time we’d been spending together. She said it felt too strange.”

  “How did you react to that?” Jessie asked.

  “I understood,” Helen replied. “But the very reason we got involved with her in the first place was for him. So it became this untenable situation. She didn’t want to be with Matt anymore. But she and I couldn’t realistically go on trips to the mall and leave him hanging. So we all agreed it had to end.”

  “And everybody was cool with that?”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘cool,’” Matthew admitted. “But we were all adults so we made the best of it.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t a little more upset than that, Mr. Zellers?” Jessie tweaked. You’re a powerful, wealthy TV producer and you’re getting the brush-off from this underage nobody?”

  “Wait, what?” he said, his voice rising.

  “Yeah, that’s the other thing,” Jessie said. “Michaela wasn’t an adult like the two of you. She was seventeen. You were technically paying for sex with a child.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  “No, no, no,” Matthew said, as if repeating it over and over would make it untrue. “That can’t be.”

  “It is. And I don’t need to tell you, the sentence for something like that can be significant.”

  Jessie actually had no idea what the sentence was. And she didn’t really want to get too deep in the weeds anyway. Without the LAPD to back her up, she was in a vulnerable position. If the Zellers called a lawyer, Jessie’s lack of authorization for this interview would be quickly revealed. She needed to scare them, but not too much.

  “I had no idea she was underage,” Matthew balked. “And you said any legally questionable activities weren’t a priority for you.”

  “I did,” she agreed. “And that still stands. What you did isn’t excusable. But assuming you cooperate completely right now, it might be manageable.”

  “What do you need?” Helen asked.

  “First, where were you both on Monday night?”

  Matt scrunched up his face trying to remember. But Helen had no such issues.

  “We were at the premiere, remember?” she said to him.

  “Oh yeah,” he recalled, turning to Jessie. “One of the actors on Catch & Convict is starring in an action movie being released on Friday. We went to the premiere screening. There was a red carpet beforehand and an after-party. I’d say we have about a hundred and fifty alibi witnesses.”

  Jessie was annoyed at how happy he seemed at the possibility that he was definitively off the hook. But she tried to stay focused on the crucial issue.

  “Okay. We’ll check into that. I also need the names of any other clients she had.”

  Both of their faces fell.

  “We don’t know that,” Helen said. “Melissa was scrupulous about keeping the identities of her clients confidential.”

  “Even with you?” Jessie challenged. “No gossip over cookie baking?”

  Helen shook her head.

  “No way,” she insisted. “I think she knew that it would ruin her business. If she was willing to tell me about someone else, she knew I’d worry she was telling someone else about us.”

  “You’re sure?” Jessie pushed. “I can claim I got the name from an anonymous source.”

  “No, she never mentioned a name,” Helen reiterated.

  Jessie sat silently in her chair. She thought she’d had this great lead that would break open the case. But now it was turning into just another dead end. And she’d pursued it at great risk to her career. If the Zellers ever mentioned this meeting to anyone, she’d be screwed.

  She was briefly tempted to warn them not to discuss this with anyone else as a means of protecting herself. But the idea made her feel dirty and she dismissed it. Suddenly Helen’s head popped up. Jessie could see she’d had an epiphany of some kind.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Melissa never said anything to me. But she did give me something. About a week and a half ago, just a few days before she brought up her uneasiness with our arrangement, she gave me an envelope. She asked me to keep it for her, said that she’d pick it up at some point. She didn’t say what was in it, but I could tell it was important to her. I kept it in the living room between some magazines. I showed her where in case she needed it and I wasn’t here.”

  She left the room and came back a minute later with a sealed envelope. She handed it to Jessie.

  “Maybe it’ll help?” she said hopefully.

  “Maybe,” Jessie agreed, not willing to open it front of them. “I’m going to see myself out. But this isn’t necessarily over. I’m looking for a killer. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Keep your noses clean.”

  Both Zellers nodded vigorously as Jessie left the kitchen. She made sure to walk down the hall to the front door at a normal, unhurried pace. She didn’t rip open the envelope until she was back in her car.

  *

  They were photos.

  Inside the envelope were photos of three men, all taken while they slept. Jessie didn’t recognize any of them. She was debating how to best identify them when her phone rang. It was Captain Decker. Her heart sank.

  “This is Hunt,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “What’s up, Captain?”

  “Where are you right now?” he demanded.

  “I’m looking into a personal issue,” she said carefully.

  “That’s interesting. Because I thought I ordered you and Hernandez to handle that tennis coach murder.”

  “Yes, Captain,” she said as soothingly as she could. “I just resolved the issue and was about to join him.”

  “Hunt, let me be clear. If I find out that you are pursuing the Penn murder, after I explicitly pulled you off it, you will be brought up on disciplinary charges. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes sir.”

  Decker hung up without another word.

  *

  When Jessie pulled up to the Beverly Country Club in Hancock Park, Ryan was just walking out of the clubhouse.

  “Solve the case yet?” she asked cheekily as she got out of her car.

  “Pretty much,” he answered.

  “You’re serious?” Jessie said, impressed.

  “Yup,” Ryan answered, unable to hide a proud smile. “The tennis coach, Paulo Risotre, was actually killed in the men’s locker room. His head was smashed in with a glass vase. Then he was dragged out to the court and the killer smashed him a few more times with a racket, which was left near the body. We have footage of the killer moving the body outside. He was wearing a hoodie but we think we know who he is.”

  “How’s that?” Jessie asked.

  “Because afterward, this genius in the hoodie got into a car and drove off. Surveillance footage caught the license plate. It belongs to a club member named Warren Cresper. Talk around the club is that Paulo was giving more than just tennis lessons to Cresper’s wife, Maddy. Now we’re just waiting for fingerprints on the vase and racket to come back.”

  “What does Cresper say?” Jessie wanted to know.

  “Convenien
tly enough, Mr. Cresper is currently booked on a three-fifteen flight to Bahia Blanca, Argentina. We have people headed to LAX now to greet him before he leaves.”

  “Wow,” Jessie marveled. “It sounds like you’ve got this thing all squared away without my help.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re not dealing with a criminal mastermind here. But I’m not sure Decker’s going to consider that an excuse for you to go off pursuing ‘personal’ issues.”

  Jessie decided to let the mild dig slide.

  “He already expressed his displeasure,” she conceded. “If it turns out my business wasn’t legitimately personal, he’s submitting me for disciplinary action.”

  Ryan shook his head.

  “Then I sure hope it was worth it.”

  “It wasn’t personal, Ryan,” she said flat out. “I’m sure you’re shocked to hear that. But I do think it was worth it. I was following up a lead and I think it’s promising.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

  “Because I need to know if you think this is legit or if I’m just chasing my tail here. I’m starting to lose perspective.”

  He shook his head.

  “You realize that by asking for my thoughts, you’re technically involving me in the case and putting me at risk of discipline?”

  “Ryan,” she said reassuringly, “we’re just two co-workers having a friendly chat in the parking lot. I don’t think your pension is at risk here.”

  “I’m glad you’re so confident,” he said testily.

  “Should I not ask?” she retorted, feeling a little snippy herself.

  He sighed. She knew she was pushing the bounds of what was appropriate in both their professional and personal relationships. But there was no one whose opinion she trusted on this more than his. It occurred to her that it couldn’t hurt to say that.

  “Listen,” she continued. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position. If you want, we can forget I brought it up. It’s just that I’m in the weeds here and what you think matters to me. I value your perspective. But I can investigate it without you if you prefer. Just know that either way, I’m not giving up on this case, regardless of the consequences.”

  Ryan’s expression was hard to read. His lips were pursed into a grimace but his eyes suggested something else.

  Admiration maybe?

  “What’s your lead?” he finally asked.

  She smiled and leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek.

  “I figured out who some of those initials belonged to,” she said. “H.Z. plus M.Z. They turned out to be a married couple in Beverly Hills. The guy was paying to sleep with Michaela. They both appear to have an alibi for that night but for reasons I can explain later, they were holding on to an envelope she gave them. It had photos of what I believe are other clients of hers. The problem is that I don’t recognize any of them and I’m worried that putting them through the system will alert the wrong people that I’m still poking around. I was hoping you might have some suggestions.”

  “Let me think about it,” he said, his brow crinkling in concentration. “Can I see the photos?”

  Jessie handed the envelope over and Ryan thumbed through the contents. When he got to photo of the third man, he froze.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I know this guy,” he said. “He’s a cop.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Jessie didn’t know whether to be excited or scared. Ryan’s expression suggested it should probably be the latter.

  “That’s not a stunner, is it?” she asked. “Considering all the strange behavior from Costabile and the other guys at Van Nuys Station, the probability that she had a cop as a client was pretty high. I’m just surprised it’s not Costabile himself.”

  “You don’t get it, Jessie,” Ryan replied, not noticing that he’d lowered his voice even though there was no one around. “This isn’t just any cop. And he’s not from Van Nuys Station, or even Valley Bureau in general. This is Commander Mike Butters.”

  “Mike Butters?” she repeated. “One of the initials was M.B.”

  “I really wish it wasn’t,” Ryan replied. “Butters heads the Force Investigation Group. He’s like, the sixth highest ranking member of the entire LAPD. This is bad.”

  “How bad?” Jessie asked, already feeling like ice water had started coursing through her veins.

  He looked at her with more apprehension than she’d ever seen when he was taking on a criminal.

  “Really bad,” he said gravely. “It explains everything. Butters used to run Valley Bureau before he got bumped up. Costabile was one of his guys. Everyone in that bureau has some kind of connection to him. It explains why the investigation would be given to a junior detective who could be pushed around, why the body might be inadvertently cremated, why the father was snatched up right in the time window when he could have prevented that.”

  Jessie gulped hard.

  “Are you saying a whole bureau covered up a murder by a senior commander?” Jessie asked, disbelieving.

  “No. This doesn’t prove Butters had anything to do with Michaela’s death. We should definitely check into who the other guys in those photos are. But if he found out about her murder early on, he’d have reason to shut down the investigation quickly anyway. He had to know that a full inquiry would uncover his connection to her. Even if he didn’t know she was underage, we’re talking about a senior LAPD commander paying an adult film actress for sex. That’s not just a career-ender. It’s cause for prosecution. He must have just hoped that shutting it down would prevent future questions.”

  Jessie nodded. All of that made sense. Even the best-case scenario was troubling. Of course, there were far worse scenarios.

  “So we’re in the crosshairs of a guy who could destroy both of us, even if he’s not a killer,” she noted. “But what if he is?”

  “What do you mean?” Ryan asked.

  “What if he did kill her? She was stabbed nine times. If he was willing to do that to keep his secret, who knows what he’d be willing to do to us?”

  “You’re right,” Ryan said. “It’s probably a good thing we got put on this tennis coach case. I’m sure Butters is having us watched. If he sees that we’re going about our regular business, he might pull back on that.”

  “You think he’s having us tailed?”

  “I’d bet money on it,” he replied. “Is there any way he could trace this couple you talked to earlier to Michaela?”

  Jessie thought about it for a second.

  “I don’t think so,” she finally said. “It’s not obvious that they’re connected. I only found them because of the initials, which were on a Post-it hidden in her apartment. I seriously doubt anyone had access to it. Do you think he’d have his people question them?”

  “Only as a last resort,” Ryan said. “He’ll know we’re assigned to this tennis coach case. If he can’t see a connection between this Beverly Hills couple and Michaela, he might assume your visit was related to Paulo Ristore’s death. He likely won’t want to risk having his people approach them if he can avoid it. You might consider mentioning their interview in our case report to keep him off the scent. It’s unorthodox, but necessary, I think.”

  If she hadn’t already known it, Jessie would have been convinced of the seriousness of the situation by Ryan’s willingness to have her fudge an interview report. He was a straight shooter and suggesting such a move was out of character for him.

  “Here’s the other thing,” she said, almost afraid to bring up the concern that that been weighing on her. “Decker pulled us off the Penn case. He assigned us to this one. Do you think he’s in on it?”

  Ryan was quiet for several seconds before responding.

  “Never say never,” he finally said, “but I don’t think so. It’s true that he pulled us off the case. But he also pulled strings to get HSS on it in the first place. Why would he do that if he was part of this? And he only pulled us when we didn’t have any firm evidence for hi
m. As to this new case, I don’t know. He could have just assigned it to us to keep us from being tempted to pursue the Penn case. Or maybe he senses something is off and wants to keep us away from this to protect us. Is it possible that he’s dirty? Anything’s possible. But I’ve known the man for close to a decade and I’ve never had cause to doubt him before. All the same, maybe we find another way to ID the other two guys in those photos Michaela took.”

  Jessie immediately thought of a potential resource and briefly debated whether to share it with Ryan. But she decided that at this point, he was already in too deep to be protected from repercussions. She might as well tell him everything.

  “We can give the photos to Jack Dolan. Your remember him—the FBI agent from that Studio City stabbing case a few months ago?”

  “Of course I remember him. You think he’d help?”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” she replied slowly.

  “Why do you say that like you’re the cat who ate the canary?”

  Jessie smiled sheepishly.

  “Because I may have already reached out to him on something else.”

  “Care to share?” Ryan asked.

  Jessie told him about her late-night visit to Michaela’s apartment, the discovery of the envelope, and her handoff of the cash to Dolan.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before but I was trying to keep your hands clean.”

  “I understand,” he replied. “But they’re completely muddy now so please don’t hold out on me anymore.”

  “I won’t.”

  She sent Dolan screenshots of the men and then turned back to Ryan.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Let’s go back to the station,” he suggested. “There’s nothing more we can do about Michaela for now. But we can continue to look busy on the Paulo Ristore case. Maybe CSU has fingerprints for us.”