by Coyle, Matt;
“I read it. Have you?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Maybe you should.” I got up, went over, and grabbed the manila folder with the police report in it and set it down in front of Baines. “Read the witness statement and see if it jibes with your recollection of what Peck told you.”
Baines looked at Leah who nodded encouragement. He took the report from the folder and thumbed through until he got to the witness statement. Leah and I shared a couple glances while Baines read. She smiled at me like she hadn’t at Baines. There was some sadness in it, but something else. A kinship with the hint of something more. The kind that could warm your hand without a touch.
“It’s pretty much how I remember it.” Baines set the report down.
“Pretty much?” I raised my eyebrows. “What’s different?”
“Nothing important, really. Just that he doesn’t mention which way Krista was walking. He told me she was crossing State on Gutierrez heading west when she was … when the accident occurred.”
“That seems kind of significant to me. Her car was parked in an empty restaurant parking lot on the east side of Gutierrez, right?”
“Yes.”
“So she would have been coming from her car at two in the morning on State Street instead of returning to it after a night on the town?”
“I don’t know. I guess so.”
“Did you check the area where Peck said he was when he saw the accident?”
“No.” His face turned red. “I … I didn’t want to leave Krista’s body. I just took his word for it.”
Liquid welled in the bottom of Leah’s eyes. I understood Baines wanting to protect Krista’s body even in death, but he made a mistake not physically verifying Peck’s story.
“Peck couldn’t have seen the accident from the sidewalk in front of Joe’s Café,” I said. “Trees block the view. He’d have to have been in the street.”
“The witness had just seen something horrible. He probably got confused about exactly where he was.”
“Did you happen to get a look inside Krista’s car at the scene?”
“No. Why?”
“Do you know who did?”
“No, Cahill, I don’t.” He cop-eyed me. A pretty good one. “Now you answer my question. Why do you want to know what was inside Krista’s car?”
Baines wasn’t on my team, but he was on Leah’s. Unless Krista’s laptop was at police headquarters, someone stole it. The more I looked into Krista’s death, the more my neck itched. Something wasn’t right about it, and my bad experiences with all things cops, especially SBPD, made me question my agreement with Grimes to share everything we learned with them. Baines was one of them. But he was in love with Leah.
“We can’t find Krista’s personal laptop. It wasn’t in her things SBPD gave to Leah and it’s not in her home. I was just wondering if it had been in the car that night.”
“Like I said, I didn’t see what was inside the car. I don’t know where the laptop is.”
“Just so you know, I questioned Dustin Peck, and he told me the same thing he told you. Krista was walking in the direction away from her car. Why don’t you think that’s in the report?”
“How am I supposed to know? Maybe he didn’t mention it because he didn’t think it was important or he forgot about it. He’d just seen someone get run over by a drunk driver. That’ll shake someone up who’d never seen it before. Why don’t you ask Mitchell about what Peck said he saw? He wrote the report. Better yet, why don’t you let MIU handle the investigation?”
“Because I hired him to investigate, Kenny.” Leah’s voice had a little bump in it. “He’s asking you questions on my behalf. I just want to find out who killed my sister. If SBPD arrests the person, fine. But I’m not going to just wait around until they do.”
“You said Peck had probably never seen someone get run down by a drunk driver. Is that the official unofficial story?” I pointed at the police report. “There’s no evidence to that effect in there.”
“Two in the morning. No skid marks. A hit and run. What else could it be?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“I think all your wild speculation is extending Leah’s pain and making her think about nothing but her sister’s death.” He lifted his hands off the table. “For what? What’s your game? You trying to play hero? Maybe you can’t be trusted just like the old-timers say.”
“Kenny!” The bump in Leah’s voice sharpened into an edge. “I told you, Rick is here because I want him to be. He’s not making me think about anything. I’m in control of my own thoughts, thank you.”
If Baines had had a crest, it would have fallen. He pushed away from the table with his head down.
“Thanks for dinner.” He walked to the front door without looking at either of us.
“Kenny?” Leah’s tone was softer, but Baines ignored her and left the house.
“Sorry about that, Rick.” Leah poured herself a heathy glass of wine and held the bottle out for me.
“No thanks.” I stood up to leave. “You know he’s in love with you.”
“I didn’t see it until tonight.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I CALLED GRIMES on the way back to the Best Western. We were supposed to be a team. One with questionable locker room chemistry.
“Yeah?” Elated to hear from me. Go team.
“I talked to the first officer on the scene and he recalls Peck telling him that Krista was walking away from where her car was parked when she was struck.”
“You talked to Officer Baines?” He hadn’t gotten any happier.
“Yeah.”
“Who told you you could do that? I’m running this investigation. You should have contacted me first.”
“It was by accident. Baines is a friend of Leah Landingham. He showed up at Leah’s house while I was there.”
“Why were you at Miss Landingham’s house?”
“We agreed I’d ask her how she learned what Peck said that wasn’t in the police report. Remember?”
“That’s a simple phone call. Not a visit to her house.”
“Grimes, neither one of us is wearing a badge anymore. I’ll let you steer this investigation, but when it comes to questioning a witness, I’ll do it my way.”
“You’re not letting me do anything, Cahill. And I’m not going to let you take advantage of a vulnerable woman who’s grieving. I know your history. Especially with the Landingham family.”
I was pretty sure Grimes was a Christian. And I was pretty sure he’d passed over the forgiveness part. My one-night indiscretion with Krista had done far more damage to my life than it had done to his police investigation, but he couldn’t forgive me. Neither could I, but I’d leave final judgment to my maker. If he allowed me in his presence when the time came.
But some fights were best left internal. And the older I got, the thicker my skin grew.
“You want to know what else I learned today or would you rather stay up there on your high horse?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Partners. “Leah and I went to Krista’s house and had a look around. Did you know that Krista had files of cold cases in her home office?”
“She had copies of murder books there?”
“Not full murder books, but extensive summaries that looked like she’d written up on her own.”
“I’m not surprised. She was in charge of the cold case unit in MIU.”
“Yeah, but Colleen’s file is missing.”
“That’s the case she was working on. The file’s probably on her desk at Figueroa Street. No big mystery there.”
“Well, this is a mystery.” I told him about the cold cases in drawer three of Krista’s file cabinet and empty drawer number four. “Come on, Grimes, doesn’t that seem a little strange to you? Krista kept extensive, meticulous files and Colleen’s case and the other cold cases that would fill drawer four of her file cabinet are all
gone?”
“Maybe she hadn’t gotten to those cases yet.” His voice lacked its conviction of a minute ago.
“But you know she was working Colleen’s case. If she was going to have copies of any cold cases at her house, that would be number one. Plus, her laptop is missing.”
“That’s police property. I’m sure SBPD has possession of it.”
“Her personal laptop. We looked everywhere in the house and her car and Leah’s sure it wasn’t with Krista’s personal items given to her by SBPD.”
“Hmm.”
“Plus, the file cabinet was unlocked despite Krista having a key for it on her key chain. The lock had a couple scratches on it that could have come from someone picking it.”
I didn’t tell him about my expertise in the field. There were some things you didn’t even tell your partner.
“One other thing.” I sensed Grimes was ready to take a ride on my natural suspicion for a while. “A letter arrived at Krista’s house this week from a man in Oceanside thanking her for going down there to talk to him about something he saw in Santa Barbara a long time ago.”
“What did he see?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t talk to me on the phone. That’s why I’m going to pay him a surprise visit. I’m driving to Oceanside tomorrow.”
Maybe I should have told Grimes that Leah was coming with me. Maybe he’d think I was taking advantage of a vulnerable woman.
Grimes didn’t say anything. No doubt weighing whether to use his “I’m in charge speech” again. Finally, “Okay.”
“What did Detective Mitchell tell you about the discrepancy between what Dustin Peck told us about which way Krista was walking and what was in the report?”
“Nothing. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. All communication has to go through Captain Kessler now. Supposedly word came down from the chief. According to Kessler, Police Chief Miss Transparency didn’t like Mitchell trading information with some ex-cop PI.” Grimes bit down hard on his words. I was glad his anger was directed at someone else for a change.
“What did Kessler say?”
“He wants me to put my requests, as he called them, in writing going forward. He’s a politician. He’ll stonewall me until they solve the case or until he can find a way to make himself and the department look good. In that order.”
“What do we do with what I discovered today about the missing cold case files and the letter from the guy in San Diego?”
“I’ll give it to SBPD. Our directive hasn’t changed. We’re going to continue to try to help find the killer. If the information only flows one way now, that doesn’t matter. We don’t have badges.”
“Say I’m right about the missing files and the computer.” Grimes wasn’t going to like where I was going, so I’d try to have him lead me there. “Who do you think would know that she had the files and her computer might be important?”
“Quit playing games, Cahill. You’re not that clever.” His words less harsh than those for the police chief. He was warming up to me. “I know you think that it would have to have been someone from the department who took the files and the computer. If they were indeed stolen.”
“So, do you think we should share that information with SBPD when we aren’t sure who is friend or foe over there?”
“I may not yet know who the foe is over there, but I know who my friends are. That’s why I’m sitting on a stool in Paddy’s Pub right now.”
Paddy’s Pub was a cop bar on State Street when I was on the job. Chief Siems bought it after he retired.
“Mitchell’s meeting you?”
“My sources are my own.”
I ignored the opportunity to give Grimes my definition of a partnership. Maybe I’d use his from now on.
“I’ll check in when I get back from Oceanside.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
OCEANSIDE IS ABOUT forty miles north of downtown San Diego. Snug up against Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton to its north, it’s a city of 175,000 people, the third largest city in the county behind San Diego and Chula Vista. As its name implies, it’s on the coast but it stretches miles and miles inland, past Vista all the way to Bonsall. It has nice beaches like its neighbors to the south, but less million-dollar coastal homes. More Mission Beach than La Jolla or Del Mar.
The address listed on the envelope Mike Richert sent to Krista was in an upscale middle-class development five miles from the coast off El Camino Real. The home was a modern two story with a tile roof. An older model white Toyota Tacoma pickup sat in the driveway. I got the impression from the letter that Richert lived alone. A lot of house for someone living alone. Maybe I was wrong about that. Maybe I was wrong about the importance of the letter altogether.
One way to find out.
We knocked on the front door. Ten seconds later, a head peeked through the window next to the door. Male. Gray with a receding hairline. Early seventies. Tan leathery skin. He didn’t look surprised but he didn’t look happy, either. A second later, the door opened. The man stood about six feet tall. Lean, but square built. Big boned. Naturally strong, probably from years out on the ocean tending to sails.
“Mike Richert?”
“That’s me.” The same voice on the phone last night. He looked at Leah and his face softened.
“Rick Cahill. We talked on the phone last night.” I turned to Leah. “And this is Leah Landingham. Krista’s sister.”
Richert looked at Leah but didn’t say anything for a couple seconds. Finally, “I’m sorry for your loss. Your sister seemed like a fine woman.”
“Thank you. She was.”
Richert still didn’t invite us inside. He looked at me and his face grimmed up.
“I don’t appreciate you dropping by unannounced.”
“I apologize, but we’re here because it’s important. We drove all the way down from Santa Barbara to talk to you. Krista was killed a week after she talked to you, and we need to find out if what you told her had something to do with her death.”
“I read online that she was killed by a drunk driver. How could I have anything to do with that?”
“The person who killed her hasn’t been caught yet. The drunk driver angle is pure speculation by the newspaper.” And maybe a targeted leak by someone at SBPD. “Maybe they’re right, but we want to find out anything we can to help catch the driver.”
“If what I told Krista is so important, why haven’t the police contacted me?”
“We just discovered your letter yesterday and started putting the pieces together. The police have the same information now.” That is, if Grimes gave it to his source. “Hopefully, they’ll contact you, too. But even if they don’t, whatever you tell us we’ll give to the Santa Barbara Police Department. We just want to find Krista’s killer.”
And I wanted to find out if Krista’s death was related to her investigation into Colleen’s murder.
“All right.” Mike Richert opened the door and let us in.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
RICHERT’S HOME HAD a slightly feminine feel, like his wife did all the decorating. But he didn’t have a ring on his finger. He led us into a living room that had a few nautical knickknacks to help offset the pale blue and white wallpaper. There was a painting and a couple pictures of sailboats but a lot more pictures of a beautiful woman as she aged over the years. Some with Richert in them, but most of her alone smiling at the camera that he was no doubt behind.
He led us to a sofa that matched the wallpaper, and Leah and I sat down while Richert stood next to a twill upholstered chair.
“Your wife?” I nodded at a photo of the woman on the coffee table between us. Judging by her age and the pallor of her skin, this was the most recent. A scarf covered her head. She’d obviously been ill when the photo was taken.
“Yes.” His body seemed to shrink into itself. “She’s no longer with us. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Leah beat me to it. “She was beautiful.”
I added my
condolences.
“Thank you. It’s been three and a quarter years, and I still expect to feel her next to me in bed every night.” He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I’m a little embarrassed about that letter I wrote. I never expected anyone but your sister to read it.”
“There’s no reason to be embarrassed.” Leah leaned forward on the sofa closing the distance between the two of them. “We never would have read it if we weren’t looking for clues to who killed Krista.”
But I knew why he was embarrassed. He’d spent the last three-plus years grieving the loss of his wife. Stuck in a dark place, feeling he needed to stay there because of his love for her. And because it had been her, not him, who died. Then he encountered a beautiful, magnetic woman for a single day, and she reminded him of life’s possibilities. It didn’t matter that she was twenty-six years younger than him—she could have been ten years older. He invited Krista for a sail on his boat because he wanted to feel alive again. There may or may not have been romance connected to the feeling, but it was the life in Krista that mattered.
And now he felt guilty for feeling alive again when he should still be stuck in the dark place grieving for his dead wife.
Richert and I had more in common than he’d ever know.
“Can I get you all anything to drink?” Richert was still standing. The perfect host. “Ice tea? Water? A beer?”
Leah and I said no thanks in tandem, and Richert finally sat down in the chair opposite us.
“Before you ask your questions, I have one of my own.” He looked at Leah.
“Sure.” She smiled. “What would you like to know?”
“Why did you choose Mr. Cahill here to investigate your sister’s death?” He continued to look at Leah and not at me. “I’m sure there were a lot of equally qualified private investigators to choose from.”
I didn’t take offense. As with Grimes, I was long past caring what people thought of me. I looked at Leah. Well, most people.
“Because Rick was Krista’s partner a long time ago, and she always told me he was a good cop and a good man. And he’s a damn good private investigator.”