The actual house was even more challenging to find than the street. Jessie passed it twice before realizing that it was just off the road on a long, unmarked, private driveway partially hidden by a large hedge. As she finally made her way down the driveway, she checked the time: 5:02.
She’d called the Ferros about half an hour ago on the way over to let them know that Ariana Aldridge was being questioned at the police station.
“I know you called your lawyer,” she said on speakerphone to them both. “But now that we have a suspect, I was hoping you might answer a few more questions to help us lock down times.”
They’d agreed, though Melissa still sounded reticent.
“How could Ari have done this?” she wanted to know. “I thought she left the island that afternoon.”
“She came back again on a later ferry,” Jessie said. “I can update you when I arrive.”
She had scrupulously avoided mentioning that Aldridge hadn’t actually been arrested and that she had doubts that she should be. There was no way the Ferros would let her follow up on the Philip Blake angle if they knew that’s why she was coming.
When she reached the end of the driveway, Jessie turned off the car and checked her phone again. She’d missed a text from Peters responding to her voicemail, saying that he was en route. It must have come in while she was talking to the Ferros.
As a precaution, she called the Central Station switchboard and asked them to have officers from West L.A. station come out to the house as backup. Just because Rich Ferro had lied about his sexuality didn’t mean he was a killer. But it didn’t help either his credibility or his wife’s.
Jessie had busted men who killed as part of affairs. She’d busted wives who killed after discovering those affairs. She’d even taken down a married couple who killed someone together. The Ferros might just be garden variety swingers navigating complicated sexual politics. Or they could be more than that. Whatever they were, Jessie thought it wise to be prudent and have some extra help as a precaution.
As she waited, she looked over the house. It seemed fairly modest at first glance. It was modern, with a front-facing façade of alternating metallic and wooden horizontal siding. It appeared to be one story. But Jessie knew from experience that expensive homes built on a cliff side, as this one was, often dropped several stories down into the canyon that served as a back yard. She doubted this house was any different.
A porch light came on and Richard Ferro stepped outside with a perplexed look on his face. When he saw it was her behind the wheel, his face softened and he waved.
“Come on in,” he called out.
She opened the door and stepped out of the car but stayed beside it.
“I was just waiting for Detective Peters to arrive,” she said.
“Well, don’t wait out here,” he insisted. “What is it, forty-five degrees? Come inside and warm up. I’ll make some tea.”
Jessie was inclined to stay outside but worried that refusing his offer might undermine the collegial energy he was giving off. The less on guard he was, the more likely he’d be to reveal something unexpected.
“Okay,” she said, closing the door and starting toward him.
She was halfway there before she remembered that her gun was resting in its holster on the passenger seat. For a second, she considered going back for it. But if Ferro saw her return to her car to strap a weapon to her waist, it was sure to amp up his suspicion.
She could tell him that she forgot something and that she’d catch up. But she wouldn’t be surprised if Melissa was secretly watching her approach the house from behind a curtain in a darkened room, waiting for a reason to deny Jessie entry. She decided to keep walking.
He held the door open for her and she entered, taking in her surroundings while trying to avoid looking like she was on high alert. It helped that the home was amazing, allowing her to gawk while also scanning the place for anything unusual.
The foyer opened onto a massive living room with floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the entire L.A. basin in the direction of the Pacific Ocean. It was too dark to see the water but in the distance she could see the glow emanating from Pacific Park on the Santa Monica Pier.
“Where’s Mrs. Ferro and the kids?” she asked, stepping down the small flight of stairs and doing a full spin so that she could take in the ten-chair dining room table under a massive, Chihuly-style chandelier.
“The kids are spending the night at a friend’s house.” he said. Looking embarrassed, he added, “Melissa might not join us. She said she’d had enough unpleasantness for one day.”
“I thought she was okay with me coming by,” Jessie reminded him.
“She was, but then—”
He was interrupted by Jessie’s phone. She glanced down and saw that the call was from County Supervisor Philip Blake.
“Would you excuse me for a moment?” she asked. “This is about the case.”
“Sure,” he said, stepping away to give her a little privacy. “I’ll make us that tea.”
She nodded absently as she answered the phone.
“Ms. Hunt?” Blake said when she picked up.
“Yes, thanks so much for getting back to me,” she replied vaguely, not wanting to give Ferro any indication of who she was speaking to.
“I don’t see how I could have not responded,” he said, sounding less put out than she would have expected. “You left one of the more unusual messages I’ve gotten lately, and I get some odd ones.”
“I’ll bet,” she replied, glancing over at Ferro, who had gone into the kitchen to turn on an electric water boiler. “So can you help me get some clarity on the issue I mentioned?”
“Sure,” he told her, “but I don’t know that I’ll be of much help. I was saddened to hear about Mrs. Crewe’s passing, though I don’t think I ever met her while I was there. As to your specific question, I do remember Richard Ferro helping me up the stairs. I’d had a few too many adult beverages in the bar.”
“It happens to the best of us,” Jessie said, before lowering her voice slightly. “I guess it was good that you had a friend to help you out.”
“I suppose, although that might be overstating it. I know Richard a little because his marketing firm handled the county’s recent push to increase Metro ridership. I think last night was the first time I ran into him since we had a progress meeting on strategy few months ago. But it was nice to see the guy.”
“And to have a guide back upstairs,” Jessie prompted, not commenting on the fact that his description of their relationship varied wildly from Ferro’s.
“I guess,” Blake said. “I wasn’t that drunk, Ms. Hunt. Frankly, I thought he was going to use the moment to pitch me on hiring his firm for something new. But he restrained himself, just said his goodbyes and moved on.”
The pot began to boil loudly in the kitchen and Jessie took advantage of the noise to ask her next question.
“He didn’t help you into your room?” she whispered.
As she waited for his answer, a call came in from Ryan. It couldn’t have been worse timing. She sent it straight to voicemail.
“I’m not sure how much my wife would have appreciated that,” he said, chuckling. “She was taking a shower when I got back.”
Jessie couldn’t help but be surprised. Blake’s voice gave no indication that he was nervous or hiding anything. He was either an incredible liar or he had no clue about what Richard Ferro had asserted. The boiler was no longer bubbling so Jessie was as non-specific as possible with her next question.
“Do you recall if the times I mentioned in my message were correct?”
“Ten thirty to ten forty-five? That sounds about right. But it wasn’t nearly that long. I didn’t need fifteen minutes to get to my room,” he said, before adding, “Is there anything I should know here, Ms. Hunt? I like to give law enforcement a wide berth and not interfere or ask too many questions. But feel like you’re holding out on me a little here.”
It wa
s the first time he abandoned the glad-handing politician vibe and sounded, if not serious, at least curious.
“I’ll definitely keep you apprised on anything of note,” she said noncommittally.
“With that nonresponsive response, you sound like you should be running for office,” he chortled. “I get it. But you have my number if you decide to share.”
“Will do. Thanks for getting back to me,” she said, hanging up as Richard Ferro came over with two mugs of tea on a small tray.
“It’s herbal,” he said, as he laid them down on the nearby side table between two leather-backed chairs. “I didn’t know what you liked so I brought milk and a variety of sweeteners.”
“Thanks,” she said, though she had no intention of taking a sip. She’d learned the hard way not to accept beverages prepared out of her sight by potential suspects.
“I have a confession to make,” he said, sitting down in one of the chairs.
Jessie’s whole body tensed up, though she managed to hide it enough to seem casual as she sat down in the other chair.
“What’s that?”
“Melissa definitely won’t be joining us,” he said sheepishly. “I’m sorry if I gave the misimpression that she might.”
“Why not?” Jessie asked, her hands on the arms of the chair in case she needed to bounce up quickly.
“After you called, she changed her mind. She said she was just too exhausted from everything that happened. That, plus the grief over losing Gabby was just too much. So she took some sleeping pills and went to bed. I think she was out before they even took effect. I apologize if you made the trip all the way out here to talk to both of us. But I’m happy to fill in whatever details I can on my own.”
Jessie settled back into the seat. She didn’t know what she’d expected, maybe for Ferro to say he’d bludgeoned his wife to death in the last half hour or that she’d disappeared from the house, along with a steak knife. Going to bed early was less dramatic but more reassuring. She decided to take advantage of the opportunity.
“That’s fine,” she said. “I’m happy to be able to clarify a few things with just you. As I said on the phone, we’re holding Ariana Aldridge at the station.”
“Right. You said she snuck back to the island again that night?”
“Correct.”
“Has she confessed?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Jessie said. “But I left a while ago. Something may have changed in the interim.”
“Well, obviously we’re glad that it looks like you might have some resolution, not that it will bring Gabby back. To be honest, I was a little unsure about Ari and Theo when the others suggested that we bring them into our little group. Not that I thought she was capable of anything like this. But they—especially her—just seemed wound a little tight, you know? I guess I should have trusted those instincts.”
Jessie nodded sympathetically, though her heart was beating fast and her mind was racing. She’d come to a decision, one that she thought could expedite resolving the case. It could also be a huge, insulting misstep that got her dumped by LAPD and potentially sued.
She didn’t know for sure if Richard Ferro was lying about his sexuality and his alibi or if Philip Blake was. But there was a way to find out. And assuming that Melissa Ferro really was asleep in bed and not actually dead or hiding somewhere in the house, ready to jump out and stab her, this was the moment to do it.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
“Can I ask you something?” she purred.
“Of course,” he said, clearly taking note of the change in her tone of voice.
“Sorry, give me a second. I’m just so stiff from being stuck in cars and boats all day,” she said as she stood up and stretched, lifting her arms high above her head and allowing her sweater to rise up as well, exposing the shapely abdomen she’d worked so hard in recent months to regain. She blinked languorously, pretending not to notice as his eyes bored in on her belly button.
“Are you sure that you’re gay?” she asked playfully.
“Why do you ask that?” he said, guarded even as he watched lasciviously as she rubbed her upper arms to “warm herself.”
“I don’t mean to invade your privacy,” she said, bending over slowly to adjust her shoe and making sure to let her back curve over just so. “It’s just that I noticed a few things.”
“Like what?” he wanted to know.
“Like when we were questioning you in the hotel conference room and that girl came in, you really seemed to notice her.”
“I don’t remember,” he said slightly defensively. “I was drunk and nervous and confused. That whole stretch is a blur to me.”
“Right,” she said, sitting back down. “I get that. But I couldn’t help but notice you eyeing me just now too. And you don’t seem drunk or nervous or confused at the moment.”
“I wasn’t—” he began before she cut him off.
“Never mind,” she said, waving his impending denial aside as she stood up again. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. It’s just that, what with this case basically solved and your and your friends’…casual attitude to traditional relationship mores, I guess I was curious. But this isn’t the appropriate time or place. I should leave.”
She started to go, but not too quickly. She was just a few paces from the door when he called out.
“Hold up,” he said, his voice betraying just a hint too much interest.
“Yes?” she replied, turning around slowly.
He paused, as if having second thoughts.
“You’re sure Ari is responsible for Gabby’s death?” he pressed.
“Pretty much,” she said, shrugging. “She has no alibi. At this point, it’s just a matter of dotting i’s and crossing t’s.”
He nodded. Seemingly satisfied, he went for it.
“I feel like I keep saying this, but I wasn’t totally forthcoming with you before.”
“About what?” she asked, her eyes as wide as she could make them.
“I might not be as gay as I let on,” he muttered.
“As gay?”
“Like, not at all,” he conceded. “The truth is that, while Melissa and I still have great affection for each other, the passion just isn’t there anymore. But I couldn’t very well tell her that. So I just kind of suffered in silence. But Steve and Gabby mentioned this swinging idea a few years ago, I thought it was perfect. Unfortunately, Melissa wasn’t that into it. She didn’t like the idea of me with another woman. So I came up with the gay thing. I said that was why we weren’t intimate anymore. I told her that I had never acted on it but that I had these desires. I told her I still wanted to be with her, which I do, but that I was conflicted. Amazingly, she didn’t seem to view that as the massive threat to our marriage that another woman would be. So we came to this arrangement.”
“What arrangement exactly?” Jessie asked, trying to sound intrigued.
“The deal was: I could have liaisons with men and she could too. I told her she shouldn’t feel guilty about it because I wouldn’t be jealous.”
“Because you were actually sleeping with other women too?” she said.
“Right,” he confirmed. “Whenever I’d hook up with someone, I’d tell her it was a man. But the truth is that I’m not into guys.”
“What about Philip Blake?” Jessie asked, knowing he’d be suspicious if she didn’t bring it up.
“I really did help him up to his room. But I didn’t go in. I don’t know what his intimate interests are. But I know what mine are—women. Especially women like you.”
“Like me?” she asked, trying to look flattered.
In the distance she thought she could hear a siren and silently cursed. She wanted backup but not the cavalry coming in all at once, undermining her delicate maneuver. Luckily, Ferro seemed oblivious to it.
“Yes, you,” he said. “We could have a really good time without any strings attached.”
“But your wife is asleep in the house right now!” she exc
laimed, hoping she sounded equally scandalized and titillated.
“She’s so zonked that she wouldn’t hear a thing,” he assured her.
Jessie pursed her lips as she played at considering the idea. She noticed that the sirens had faded into the distance and wondered if they were having the same trouble finding the place that she had.
“I’m not saying no,” she replied coquettishly. “But wouldn’t that be a violation of your intermingling policy? The Landers said it was the cardinal rule for the group.”
He smiled, apparently delighted by her hard-to-get routine.
“First of all, you’re not in our group, so it doesn’t count. And secondly, it’s more of a guideline than a rule.”
Jessie knew she was at a crossroads. If her suspicion was correct and she wanted to get confirmation of it from Ferro, she needed to pull the ripcord fast. The guy wasn’t thinking with his upper half right now. He was primed to accidentally reveal whatever sins he may have committed. But he wasn’t going to do that once he heard those sirens, no matter how horny he was.
So she took the leap. Stepping back toward him, she extended her hand and he took it. She pulled him toward her and leaned in close, grazing his neck with her nose, before pulling back slightly and looking into his eyes.
“Was it just a guideline with Gabby?” she whispered.
She knew immediately. His eyes went wide in shock, unable to hide the truth of his indiscretion.
“How did you—we just—” He was fumbling for the words.
Now came the dangerous part. It was clear that he’d slept with her. But what else had he done.
“Did you know she was pregnant?” she demanded, studying his face, waiting for his involuntary reaction. “Did she say she was going to have the baby? Threaten to tell her husband? Tell your wife?”
When his eyes narrowed into slits, she knew she had the answer to that question too. And she saw from the way his mouth curled into a twisted grimace that he hadn’t been enthused about the news, apparently unhappy enough to grab a steak knife. Just then the sirens returned. This time, she could tell that he heard them too.
The Perfect Impression Page 21