Lost Tomorrows

by Coyle, Matt;

  “The timing. Whatever Richert saw had been many years ago. Colleen was murdered fourteen years ago. He mailed the letter this Wednesday and said it had only been a few days since she’d talked to him, which puts the meeting after Krista started looking into Colleen’s murder.”

  “Okay.” Leah’s posture, erect for the first time today. Her eyes, clear and zeroed in on mine. “If someone broke in and stole the files, why didn’t they take all of them? Wouldn’t that be better than just taking the ones in the last drawer? That way no one would ever know Krista brought the files home. Nothing would look like it was missing.”

  She had a point that had been itching at me since I realized Colleen’s file was missing.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t think beyond the one drawer. Maybe he was interrupted by something or only brought a backpack with them.” I opened file drawer number three. “The files in here look like they’d easily fill a normal-size backpack and then some. Whoever took them probably thought he was being extra cautious by taking all of the files in drawer four and not just Colleen’s. He probably figured no one would even care what was in the file cabinet.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Look for Krista’s laptop.”

  We searched the entire house, Krista’s car, the garage, even looking in ridiculous places like kitchen cabinets, under the sink, and in the trash. No laptop. No missing files.

  “Well?” Leah asked as I closed the lid on the outside trash can. “What now?”

  The sun had slid below the Santa Ynez Mountains, pulling night in behind it. I checked my phone. It was already seven twenty-five.

  “Back to your house so you can get ready for Officer Baines.”

  “I told you, Rick.” She put her hands on her hips. “There’s nothing to get ready for. We’re just friends. I’m just friends with everybody.”

  I fought down the sliver of joy knowing that Leah was unattached gave me. I had a rule about not getting involved with clients. Especially ones whose sister I had once slept with and had just been murdered. Still, the joy punched its way through all the layers of wrong I heaped on top of it.

  We got back to Leah’s at seven fifty-five. An hour and a half until Officer Baines was due. Leah got out of the car. I stayed seated with the engine running. Limbo.

  “Come inside.” She waved an arm at me. “I’ll warm up some of the grief food. Otherwise, I’ll have to freeze it or throw it away.”

  I didn’t have to wait for a second invite. I got out of the car and grabbed the file that held the copy of the police report Grimes gave me and followed Leah inside. She got busy in the kitchen. I didn’t offer to help. Instead, I tried to help another way. I dropped the police report on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa and searched Mike Richert and his address on a paid people finder website on my phone. I got a hit. He was seventy-three years old. Bingo. An old man with a boat. I called the phone number listed as his on the website. Someone answered after four rings.

  “Hello?” Male voice. Sounded the right timber for a seventy-three-year-old. A slightly higher pitched echo of what may have once been.

  “Is this Mike Richert?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “My name’s Rick Cahill and—”

  “Rick Cahill?” My last name came out like an expletive. “Why are you calling me?”

  Another Southern Californian who knew my past. And not the good parts.

  “I’m a private investigator, and Krista Landingham’s family hired me to investigate her death.”

  “What? … Her death?” I could feel Mike Richert slump through the phone. He didn’t know. Why would he? He lived a hundred and seventy-five miles away. Shit. His letter made it clear he’d developed feelings for Krista from their lone meeting. I should have braced him for what I had to tell him.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you.” Leah appeared at my side and mouthed “speaker” to me. I put the phone on speaker. “Krista was my partner when I was a police officer in Santa Barbara. She was a great cop and a great lady. Her family hired me to investigate her death and I—”

  “How did she die?”

  “Vehicular manslaughter. A hit and run.”

  “You think I had something to do with it?” Disdain.

  “No. Of course not. I know she visited you in Oceanside last week about something you saw in Santa Barbara a long time ago. Whatever you told Krista might have some bearing on her … on the situation. Can you tell me what you talked about?”

  “No. Why would I tell you?”

  “As I’ve explained, her family hired me to investigate her death.”

  “You’re not the police. I’m not going to tell you anything.”

  “Mr. Richert?” Leah spoke over my shoulder.

  “What? Who’s that?”

  “I’m Leah Landingham. Krista’s sister. I hired Rick to find the truth about Krista’s death. Can you help us?”

  “Is this a prank? Some kind of joke? How do I know Sergeant Landingham is even dead?”

  “Search her name online, sir. Call me back when you’re ready to talk.” I said my phone number slowly twice, but I had the feeling he didn’t write it down. He hung up before I finished the second time.

  Leah sat down next to me on the couch. “Did I mess that up by jumping in?”

  “No. He didn’t like me from the start.”

  “Maybe it was my voice. I sound a little like Krista. That could have freaked him out.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it.” But she did sound a lot like her sister. At least like the voice I thought I remembered.

  I remembered Colleen’s voice. Whenever I felt it fading, I put on the video of her at Fallen Leaf Lake up in Tahoe and watched and listened. And thought about all the lost tomorrows.

  “What are you going to do if he doesn’t call back? Call him again?” Leah put her hand on mine. Warm. But no joy. The warm didn’t feel right caught up with my thoughts about Colleen.

  “Drive to Oceanside to talk to him in person.” I slid my hand out and stood up like I had somewhere to go. I didn’t. I’d been running from my past for fourteen years. But even as memories of Colleen faded, the past always stayed within striking distance.

  “Did you need something?” A slight blush in Leah’s cheeks. Embarrassed that I’d recoiled from her touch? Had it been that obvious? What kind of bent signals was I giving this poor woman who’d just lost her sister?

  “Bathroom?” My hands felt awkward at my sides.

  “Down the hall. First door on the left.” She smiled but her cheeks were still pink. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

  I turned and went to the bathroom. I stood in front of the sink and splashed cold water on my face. Leah Landingham needed my help, not my psychosis. Santa Barbara. Too close to the past. I waited a couple minutes, flushed the toilet, ran the water ten seconds, and went back into the living room.

  Leah stood at the kitchen counter pouring precut mixed greens from a plastic bag into a salad bowl. She whisked some olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and Dijon mustard into a vinaigrette in a small mixing bowl. The smell of meat and cheese and Italian spices rose in the kitchen. Lasagna. Smelled good. Whoever brought the dish to Leah’s parents’ house knew how to cook.

  “Are you going to work tomorrow?” I asked.

  “I work from home but am currently between projects. Why?”

  “I think it might help to have you with me when I drop in on Mr. Richert down in Oceanside.”

  “Are you sure? It didn’t go too well on the phone.”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Unfortunately, he’s going to see that Krista is gone when he looks her up online. Not only do you sound like her, you look a little bit alike, too. He’ll see the familial resemblance and want to help. Especially since you will have come all the way down from Santa Barbara.”

  “Let’s do it. What time do you want to leave?”

  “Ten a.m. We’ll avoid the LA rush hour.”

  “I’ll be
ready. Let’s eat.”

  The mixed green salad was a nice palette cleanse for the rich lasagna that followed. We each had a couple glasses of red wine. The only thing missing was garlic bread. Leah and I settled on the couch after dinner and shared small talk in between bites of the shortbread cookies. Also delicious. We avoided talk of Krista. I sat far enough away from Leah on the couch to be out of reach of an accidental brush of her hand. The wine had warmed me enough. Any added heat might send the night and my entire Santa Barbara visit in a hazardous direction.

  I learned that Leah’s short-lived marriage had ended three years ago, one year before Krista’s ended. Both women hyphenated their surnames with their spouses through marriage and dumped the extra name with the man in divorce.

  Leah broke away from the interior design firm she’d worked for and started her own one-woman design consultation shop after the divorce. She’d managed to parlay a home redesign for a wealthy Montecito client into a word-of-mouth tsunami, the crest of which she was still riding. She and Krista became much closer after their divorces than they’d been in years. More than sisters, best friends. Krista’s death had been a shock and shook Leah hard. The reverberations were still coming.

  I liked Leah. More than just her striking beauty. Despite her burgeoning business rubbing elbows with some of the wealthiest people in the country, there was no pretense to her. She shot straight and liked it coming back the same way. She reminded me of Krista talking in the squad car during our endless hours of monotony broken up by occasional flashes of pure adrenaline. Like her sister, I felt Leah would be someone you’d want at your side if something nasty went down.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SOMEONE KNOCKED ON Leah’s front door at 9:25 p.m. Officer Baines. A tad early. Eager? Maybe. Who wouldn’t be?

  Leah got up and answered the door. A dark-haired man in jeans and a leather jacket, about five-ten, early thirties, walked into the foyer and started to turn back to Leah, then noticed me sitting on the couch. Surprise flashed across his brown eyes, then irritation. Officer Baines hadn’t expected, and wasn’t happy, to see me.

  Baines turned back to Leah, his moment of stealing a welcome hug from her now passed. She stepped around him, an awkward smile on her face, and led him into the living room.

  “Kenny, this is Rick Cahill. He was a friend of Krista’s.”

  I stood up to shake Baines’ hand. He’d regained his composure and gave me a firm handshake and a flat smile. I didn’t read the usual hostility I expected when bumping up against law enforcement who knew my reputation. Baines was younger than I expected. He hadn’t been on the force when the department kicked me off it. He did look vaguely familiar, though. I just couldn’t place him.

  “Nice to meet you, Kenny.” I gave him back the handshake and a slightly friendlier smile than he gave me.

  “You can call me Ken.” He side-glanced Leah. I got it. Only the woman he was sweet on called him Kenny. I was more comfortable with Ken, anyway.

  “You can call me Rick.” I sat back down on the couch.

  “I’ve got some lasagna warming in the oven for you, Kenny.” Leah looked like now she didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she walked into the kitchen.

  Baines remained standing. “That’s okay. I didn’t know you had company.”

  “I’m actually here to talk to you,” I said before Leah could jump in.

  “Me?” Baines glanced at Leah then back at me.

  “Like I said, Rick was a friend of Krista’s and I …” Leah stood at the kitchen counter. “He’s helping out Jim Grimes.”

  “I told you that was a bad idea, Lee,” Baines said to Leah. Kenny. Lee. Maybe there was more to their relationship than she’d admitted to. “Hiring a PI. That could hamper the investigation.”

  “Look, Ken.” I stayed seated and calm. Baines’ building agitation was enough nerves for the whole room. “Jim Grimes and I aren’t going to do anything to get in the way of SBPD’s investigation. Anything new we find, we’re giving to them. We all have the same goal. To find the person who killed Krista.”

  “I’ll touch base with you tomorrow, Lee. Mr. Cahill.” Baines nodded at me then headed for the front door.

  “Kenny, wait.” Leah walked over to Baines in the foyer. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt the investigation.”

  “Not knowingly.” He looked at me on the couch. I pretended I wasn’t paying attention. “But you never know what can happen when you bring in an outside entity. Private investigators are wild cards and have their own agendas.”

  I continued to pretend that I couldn’t hear that my reputation had just been besmirched. Again. Water. Duck. Back.

  “Kenny, please just talk to Rick.” Leah took his hand in hers. I knew how that felt. Warm. “And even if you don’t, at least eat the lasagna I have warming for you.”

  Baines’ face didn’t go Raiders of the Lost Ark, but I could still see him melt. His shoulders relaxed and he let out an audible exhale. Even from where I was sitting and still couldn’t hear anything.

  “Okay,” Baines said. He and Leah returned to the living room.

  “What would you like to know, Rick?” He stood in front of the coffee table, chest a little more puffed out than when he came in.

  “Eat your dinner.” I stood up and walked over to the dining area where Leah and I ate. “I remember how hungry you can get after a shift.”

  “I know you were a cop.” Baines sat down at the head of the table. Bold. He’d been over for dinner before. “And I know all about your time on the force. I was at the service yesterday. A lot of old-timers remembered who you were.”

  That’s where I’d seen him. The service. He’d been in his uniform. One of the stoics who eyed me without expression.

  “Yep. They don’t like me much and I don’t give a damn.” I sat kitty corner to Baines. I briefly considered taking the opposite head of the table but decided to hold off on the pissing contest. “Krista was my T.O. and then partner for a while. Unlike the old-timers who tugged your ear yesterday, she trusted me and believed in me. Hell, right now I’m working with Jim Grimes who arrested me for my wife’s murder. He now knows I’m innocent. So, let’s put the past and rumors behind us and work on finding Krista’s killer. Deal?”

  Leah set down a plate of steaming lasagna in front of Baines along with a bowl of salad. She went back into the kitchen and returned with a beer, which she set in front of Baines then sat across from me, diagonal to him He looked at the salad, then dug into the lasagna. Big mouthfuls. I let him enjoy the food for a few bites before I started in.

  “Can you give us a rundown on what happened when you arrived at the scene?”

  “How much detail do you want?” He put down his fork.

  “All of it.”

  “Lee, maybe you shouldn’t listen to this.” He pushed the plate of half-eaten lasagna away from him.

  “We can avoid some details.” I said.

  “I want to know what happened.” Leah clasped her hands in front of her on the table. “Just not … her injuries.”

  Baines let go another loud breath and rubbed his face with both hands. “I was driving a U car, meaning I was alone on patrol, and got a call for a possible 20001 on the four hundred block of State Street at 2:17 a.m. I made it to the scene at approximately 2:22 a.m.” He glanced at Leah, who nodded for him to continue. “I saw … the victim laying in the intersection of State and Gutierrez near the curb, on the east side of the intersection.”

  Baines stared down at the table. Nobody said anything. Cops aren’t unfeeling automatons or callous bullies. Not the vast majority, anyway. They think and feel. Baines must have been reliving the moment when he realized the victim wasn’t a stranger, but someone he knew. A fellow cop. Even worse, the sister of the woman he cared about.

  Leah reached over and put her hand on top of Baines’. She smiled a sad smile when he let his eyes meet hers.

  “Take your time, Kenny,” she said.

  “I knew
it was Detective Landingham even before I got to her body. She wore a blue and pink running shoe. The other one was in the middle of the street. I—”

  Leah pulled her hand away from Baines and gasped. She covered her face with her hands. Her voice came out halting and raw. “The shoes I bought Krista for her birthday.”

  “Yeah.” Baines leaned over and put his arms around Leah. She started crying and Baines pulled her closer. I didn’t say anything. Leah cried for a minute or so then pulled away from Baines.

  “I’m okay.” She wiped her eyes and exhaled. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize,” I said.

  “You sure you want me to go on?” A watery shimmer floated over Baines’ eyes. He was in love with Leah.

  “Yes. Please.” No hand on his this time.

  “I checked for vital signs, but she was gone.” Baines wiped at his eyes. “I set up flares and secured the scene with police tape and called it in. The paramedics arrived at the scene and checked Krista’s vitals even though we all knew she was dead. I called the watch commander and told him the victim was Krista. He told me that MIU had already been alerted and should arrive within ten minutes.”

  “Why would the Major Investigation Unit already be on the way if they didn’t know that a police detective had been killed yet?” I asked.

  “There’s a team within the unit that investigates all traffic collisions, so they would have been notified as soon as I called it in.”

  “I thought Detectives Mitchell and Flora showed up. Do they normally handle 20001s?”

  “No. Stack and Murphy normally do. Mitchell and Flora handle the high-visibility cases and anything involving a cop from SBPD. They came later and took over the investigation when they got there.”

  “When did you talk to Dustin Peck?”

  “After I called the watch commander and told him that it was Krista.”

  “So before anyone from MIU arrived?”

  “Right.” Baines took a gulp from his beer.

  “What did Peck tell you he saw?”

  “It’s all in the police report. I thought Grimes had a copy. Hasn’t he shown it to you yet?”