“What’s up, doc?” said the biggest one.
I said, “Guess who’s having a baby?”
Chapter 123
BECAUSE LITTLE RUBY ROSE was premature, we all wore sterile pink paper hospital gowns, hats, and masks for the occasion. Claire looked like she’d been dragged a quarter of a mile in a tractor pull, but the baby-glow was there under her pallor. And since baby-glow was contagious, we were all euphoric and giggly.
Cindy was crowing about her interview with Hans Vetter’s uncle, and Yuki, having put on a couple of ounces since recovering from being drugged with LSD and almost killed by Jason Twilly, chortled at Cindy’s jokes. The girls told me that I looked hot and possibly happy, the way I should look, since I was living with the perfect man.
“How long is she going to keep us waiting?” I asked Claire again.
“Patience, girlfriend. They’ll roll her in when they’re good and ready. Have another cookie.”
I’d just folded a gooey double chocolate chip with walnuts into my maw when the door to Claire’s room opened – and Conklin came in. He was wearing matching gown, hat, and mask in blue, but he was one of the few men I’d ever known who could look goofy and great at the same time. I could see his gorgeous brown eyes, and they were shining.
Rich held a big bunch of flowers behind his back, and he went around the room saying hello, kissing Cindy and Yuki on their cheeks, squeezing my shoulder, kissing Claire, and then he dramatically produced red roses.
“They’re ruby roses,” he said, with a shy version of his brilliant smile.
“My God, Richie. Three dozen long stems. You know I’m married, right?”
When the laughter stopped, Claire said, “I thank you. And when my little girl gets here, she’ll thank you, too.”
Cindy was looking at Conklin like she’d never seen a man before. “Pull up a chair,” she said. “Richie, we’re going to Susie’s for dinner in a while. Why don’t you come with?”
“Good idea,” I said. “We’ve got to toast our little associate member of the Women’s Murder Club – and you can be the designated driver.”
“I’d like to help you guys out,” Rich said. “But I’ve got a plane to catch in” – he looked at his watch – “in two hours.”
“Where’re you going?” Cindy asked.
I wondered, too. He hadn’t mentioned a trip to me.
“ Denver. For the weekend,” Rich told Cindy.
I looked away, my eyes sliding across Claire’s face. She caught it. Saw that I’d taken an unanticipated blow.
“Going to see Kelly Malone?” Cindy asked, the reporter in her refusing to just shut up.
“Uh-huh,” Rich said. And unless he’d caught the baby-glow from Claire, he was excited.
“I’d really better go. Don’t want to get caught in traffic. Claire, I just wanted to congratulate you on this great news. I’ll want a picture of Ruby as a screen saver.”
“Sure thing,” Claire said, patting Conklin’s hand, thanking him again for the flowers.
I said, “Have a good weekend.”
And Rich said, “You too. All of you guys.”
And then he was gone.
As soon as he was out of the room, Cindy and Yuki started talking about what a rock star Rich was and wasn’t Kelly Malone his high school sweetheart? And then the door opened again. A nurse rolled a tiny cart up to Claire’s bed and all of us peered inside.
Ruby Rose Washburn was a beauty.
She yawned, then opened her dark, long-lashed eyes and looked straight at her mom, my glorious, beaming friend Claire.
We four held hands, made a circle around the cart, each saying a silent prayer for this new child. Claire released our hands so she could hold her baby.
“Welcome to the world, little girl,” said Claire, hugging and kissing her everywhere.
Cindy turned to me, asked, “What did you pray for?”
I snorted a laugh. “Is nothing sacred, you bulldog? Can’t I even talk to God without you asking for a quote?”
Cindy cracked up, put a hand over those cute overlapping front teeth of hers. “Sorry. Sorry,” she said, tears coming out of her eyes.
I put my hand on Cindy’s shoulder and said, “I prayed that Ruby Rose would always have good friends.”
Chapter 124
YUKI GOT OUT of Lindsay’s car, saying, “Now I know what they mean about feeling no pain.”
“We couldn’t stop you from downing two margaritas, sweetie, and God knows we tried. You’re way too little for that much octane. I’ll walk you inside.”
“I’m okay, I’m okay.” Yuki laughed. “I’m going straight to bed. So I’ll talk to you on Monday, ’kay?”
She said good night to Lindsay and walked into the lobby of the Crest Royal, said hello to Sam, the doorman, and wobbled up the three steps to the mail alcove. On the third try, she managed to get the tiny key into the tiny lock, pulled out the banded packet of mail, and took the elevator up to her apartment.
The apartment was empty, but since the ghost of her mother lingered in the furnishings, Yuki talked to Mommy as she dropped the mail on the console in the foyer. An envelope slipped out of her fingers onto the floor. Yuki peered down at it. It was a padded envelope, not very big, dark brown with a handwritten label.
She kicked off her high heels and said, “Mommy, whatever it is, it can wait. Your daughter is smashed.”
But the envelope was intriguing.
Yuki put one hand on the console, bent and picked up the envelope, stared at the unfamiliar handwriting in ballpoint pen. But the return address on the left-hand corner grabbed her. It was just a name: Junie Moon. Yuki ripped open the envelope as she walked unsteadily to her mom’s green sofa.
Junie had been acquitted of Michael Campion’s death. Why would Junie be writing to her?
Sitting on the sofa, Yuki shook the contents of the envelope out onto the glass coffee table. There was a letter and a second envelope with her name on it.
Yuki unfolded the letter impatiently.
Dear Ms. Castellano,
By the time you get this I will be on the road somewhere, I don’t even know where. I want to see America because I have never been outside of San Francisco.
I guess you’re wondering why I’m writing to you, so I’ll get to the point.
The evidence you wanted is in the second envelope, and you’ll probably want to use it to give the Campions some closure.
I hope you understand why I can’t say any more.
Take care,
Junie Moon
Yuki read the letter again.
Her mind was swimming, trying to follow what Junie had said. “The evidence you wanted is in the second envelope.”
Yuki tore open the plain white envelope and emptied two items onto the tabletop. Item one was a shirt cuff, ripped from its sleeve, monogrammed with Michael Campion’s initials. The cuff was saturated with dried blood.
Item two was a small clump of dark hair, about three inches long, roots attached.
Yuki’s hands were shaking, but she was sobering up, starting to think about the call she would make to Red Dog. Wondering, if they put a rush on it, how much time it would take for the lab to process the DNA that would surely match to Michael Campion.
And she thought about how even if they were able to find Junie Moon and bring her in, the law was clear: she couldn’t be tried for Campion’s death again. They could charge her with stuff – perjury, obstruction, hindering prosecution. But unless they could establish how the evidence came into Junie’s possession, odds were that the DA wouldn’t even try to indict her.
Yuki looked at the gruesome evidence that had now dropped literally into her lap. She picked up the phone and called Lindsay. As she listened to the phone ring, she thought about Jason Twilly.
He was charged with attempted murder on the life of a peace officer, and if convicted he could go to prison for the rest of his life without possibility of parole. Or he could hire the best criminal defense atto
rney money could buy and maybe win.
Maybe he’d go free.
Yuki saw Twilly in her mind, sitting in some café in LA writing his book with everything he needed for his big-bang, gazillion-dollar ending. The news would get out about the bloody cuff, the hank of hair, the DNA matching to Michael Campion.
Who dunnit?
Twilly wouldn’t have to prove it. He could make her a character in his book. And then he could simply point his finger at Junie Moon.
The ring tone stopped.
“Yuki?” she heard Lindsay say.
“Linds, can you come back? I’ve got something you have to see.”
Chapter 125
JUNIE MOON LOOKED out the window and marveled again at the feeling of flight and at the amazing bright turquoise water below. And there, just coming into view, was a little town by the sea. She couldn’t even pronounce its name.
The pilot’s voice came over the speaker. Junie put up her tray table and tightened her seat belt, still staring out the window, seeing the beaches now, and the little boats and the people.
Oh, my God, this was just too fantastic.
She started to think again about that long-ago night when Michael Campion wasn’t a client anymore. They’d talked about their love and how hopeless it all was.
Michael had playfully tugged at the little braid hanging down the back of her neck.
“I have an idea,” he said. “A way for us to be together.”
“I’d do anything,” she’d said. “Anything.”
“Me too,” Michael had said.
It was a pledge.
They’d made plans over the next few weeks, plans that would take place six months in the future. And one night when everything was in place, Michael left her house and just disappeared. Three months later, someone called the police saying he’d seen Michael at her house. And then the police had come and she’d gotten confused and made up a story – and talked herself into a huge mess.
It had been hell: jail and the trial and especially not being able to get mail or phone calls. But she’d known he would wait for her. And if she’d been convicted, he would have come forward. But Junie had hung in, used the brains and the lawyer God had given her, and played her role to the hilt.
And thank you, God, she’d been acquitted.
Three days ago she’d taken the blood and hair he’d sent her and put it into that letter to Yuki Castellano. Now the hard part was over and Junie was traveling light. She had worn boy’s clothes on the bus from San Francisco to Vancouver, the flight to Mexico City, and now she was on another plane, on her way to a little village on a beach in Costa Rica.
This remote and enchanted place would be their new home, and Junie Moon hoped with her whole being that someday Michael’s heart would be fixed and that paradise would last for-fricking-ever.
She’d changed into a cute little sundress in the bathroom, fluffed up her newly straightened dark brown hair, put on the chic cat’s-eye glasses. The wheels of the plane bounced on the landing strip and all the passengers began to clap. Junie clapped, too, as the plane rolled to a stop.
Moments later the cabin door opened and Junie stepped carefully down the steps that had been wheeled up to the aircraft. Junie scanned the many faces peering out at the plane from the small outdoor terminal.
And there he was.
He’d shaven his head, had grown a goatee, and he was brown all over from the sun. He was wearing a bright striped shirt and cutoffs, grinning and waving, calling, “Baby, baby, over here!”
No one would ever recognize him, no one but her.
This was her real life.
And it was starting now.
***
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7th Heaven Page 22