The Perfect Murder

by Brenda Novak

  “You’ll get to say that soon,” Kate said.

  Jane exchanged a glance with Sebastian. “You bet I will.”

  Twenty-Six

  Malcolm spent most of Saturday and all morning Sunday studying The Last Stand’s Web site. They had a feature that allowed someone interested in getting help to petition—anonymously—for information. The charity catered to abused women and children, for the most part, so he imagined this was a way to make a woman who didn’t know how to escape her situation feel safe enough to ask about her options.

  It was a really nice idea.

  It might also be the perfect means to ensure that Jane would be at the office tomorrow afternoon. At least it was worth writing in to see who responded….

  Clicking on the I Have a Question link, he waited for the form to come up, then began to type.

  My husband gets very violent, especially when he drinks. He hits me—he broke my nose last week. Sometimes he even hits or kicks our children. I have to do something, for their sake. But if I get him in trouble, he’ll kill me. He told me so when I went to his sister. I’m afraid he’ll really go through with it! Is there any way I could make an appointment to see someone about getting help? My husband is out of town tomorrow. I could come in at six, if anyone will be available. I apologize for the inconvenience. I don’t want to be a bother. I just don’t know where else to turn.

  He didn’t make up a name to sign the message with. He figured it would be just as believable without one.

  After he’d sent it, he watched some television, called his bookie to see if he could place another bet, was refused because he hadn’t paid for the last few and began to pace. If he’d thought living alone in that ranch house was stifling, this was even worse. He felt so cooped up, so…limited.

  His life was shit. Why was he putting up with that?

  Cursing, he decided to head to Stockton Boulevard. It’d been a long time since he’d played at the “prostitute bribes undercover cop” fantasy. Maybe if he could find a black woman who was young and pretty, like Latisha, he’d be able to pretend it was her….

  “Would you and Kate like to come to dinner?”

  Switching her cell phone to the other ear, Jane hesitated at her mother-in-law’s offer. She, Sebastian and Kate were at the kitchen table. They’d been playing board games for most of the weekend. She got the impression it was the first time Sebastian had forgotten about chasing Malcolm in a long, long while. She enjoyed seeing him relax, hearing him laugh. She’d prefer to spend the rest of their Sunday as they’d spent it so far—just the three of them—but she’d been busy lately, consumed by work, and her in-laws had been so good, helping with Kate whenever she needed them. She figured she could at least ask if Sebastian would like to go.

  Covering the mouthpiece, she whispered to him. “Kate’s grandma is inviting us over for dinner. Any chance you’d be interested?”

  “Can she cook?” he teased.

  “She’s a really good cook!” Kate told him.

  He winked. “Then I’m in. I never turn down a home-cooked meal.”

  Remembering the lasagna he’d paid her to make, Jane smiled and returned to her conversation. “We have someone visiting us who’s hankering for some old-fashioned home cooking. Is it okay if we bring him along?”

  “Him? It’s a man?” Betty asked. “Who is it? That P.I. from work? Or one of the volunteers?”

  Jane tried not to chuckle at the fluster behind those questions. “No. Someone else. His name is Sebastian Costas.”

  “You’ve never mentioned a Sebastian before. I’d remember that name. Costas—is he Greek?”

  “You haven’t heard of him because we just met last week. And, yes, I think his name’s Greek.”

  “It is,” Sebastian confirmed.

  “What’s Greek?” Kate asked.

  Sebastian explained while Betty continued questioning Jane. “Is this a romantic interest? Because it kind of sounds that way. It sounds as if you’ve finally met someone.”

  Jane told herself she should’ve known she’d be grilled. Betty had been urging her to start dating for the past three years. But she wasn’t making any commitments. She knew it was silly, superstitious, but she was afraid she might jinx her own happiness if she did. “Maybe.”

  “Then of course you can bring him! I’ve been praying you could—” She stopped. When she struggled to go on, Jane realized it was because she’d suddenly choked up.

  “I’m going to be okay,” she said gently. “Even if I spend the rest of my life alone, I’ll be okay.”

  “I know, it’s just…you’ve been through so much.”

  That reminder brought one other consideration to mind. “Will Wendy be coming tonight?”

  “She might be. I always invite both of you. Someday she’ll understand that it’s useless to hold a grudge and she’ll let our family be whole again—or as whole as it can be.”

  Jane appreciated the sentiment and the effort her in-laws made to close the rift. But did she really want to have dinner with Wendy? This had been such a good weekend….

  “Grandma has a great big dog,” Kate was telling Sebastian, her face as animated as Jane had ever seen it. “I want you to meet him. And Grandpa bought me a trampoline. I can do some tricks. You’ll see.”

  With a sigh, Jane decided it didn’t really matter whether Wendy was going to be at the Burkes’ or not. “We’ll be there,” she said. “What time?”

  The tension in the room was palpable. Sebastian had noticed it from the moment Jane’s ex-sister-in-law trooped in with her boys. Wendy sat across from him now, wearing a stony expression as she picked at her food. Occasionally she looked up long enough to glower at Jane.

  Jane sat stoically beside him, giving Wendy a brief but hopeful smile whenever their eyes met. Sebastian understood that she felt guilty for what she’d done. He thought she should feel guilty; she’d made a serious mistake. But it bothered him that Wendy continued to withhold her forgiveness when Jane was obviously so eager to receive it. She’d been paying penance for five years. What more could she do? She regretted her actions. Besides, she hadn’t meant for anyone to be hurt, she wasn’t the one who’d killed Noah, and she’d been going through an extremely difficult time when she’d gotten involved with him. How did Wendy know her husband wasn’t equally to blame—or, for that matter, even more to blame?

  Sebastian answered politely as the older Burkes asked him the usual questions—where he was from, what he did. They seemed intrigued by him, but all he could think about were the daggers Wendy was staring at Jane.

  “So how did you meet?” Wendy asked, breaking her “I will ignore Jane and anything to do with her” rule, which she’d upheld to this point.

  “We’ve been working on a case together,” he said.

  “What kind of case?”

  “A kidnap case,” Jane inserted, gazing down at her plate.

  The clipped response told Sebastian Jane didn’t want to elaborate. She was trying to protect Kate from hearing how bad the man they’d been chasing really was. And they couldn’t discuss murder at the table. Not with this family, who’d had firsthand experience. But it was Kate who jumped in. “Don’t worry, the girl’s home safe,” she piped up.

  Sebastian smiled at the relief in her voice, but Wendy scarcely acknowledged her niece. “How does an investment banker get involved in a kidnap case?” she asked.

  “I have a personal interest.”

  “The victim was your daughter?”

  “Not exactly.” He gave her a pointed look. “But close.”

  She seemed to take the hint that he wasn’t prepared to discuss his connection to the case in front of the kids. So she waited until Kate and her sons had finished eating and dashed off to play video games in one of the back rooms before she brought it up again.

  “I’m curious about your reason for coming all the way from New York,” she said as they sat in the living room with an after-dinner drink.

  Maurice and Betty te
nsed at her determination to unravel the mystery, but Sebastian conjured up a friendly expression and spoke before they could intercede. “The man Jane’s been trying to find killed my son,” he said bluntly.

  Her eyes widened.

  “So you’re not the only one who’s lost someone you love,” he added.

  His voice held no sympathy, nor did it conceal the irritation he was feeling. She rocked back in surprise and Jane’s jaw dropped, but Sebastian took this in while keeping his eyes on Wendy. “Tragedy happens,” he said. “It hits some people harder than others, but don’t think for a minute that you’re alone.”

  She dropped the thin veneer of politeness she’d assumed so far. Seeing Jane with a man seemed to bring out the worst in her; he could tell she’d been dying to express her disapproval from the beginning, which was why he’d given her the opportunity. “Maybe that’s true, but how do you feel about the man who killed your son?” she challenged, sending another glower at Jane.

  Jane flushed crimson. “Sebastian, it’s okay,” she said. “Wendy has every right to feel the way she does.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” He took Jane’s hand to show his support. “Jane didn’t kill your husband, Ms. Burke. She was as much a victim as you were.” With his free hand, he indicated her scar. “Don’t you agree she’s been punished enough?”

  Grabbing her purse, Wendy jumped to her feet. “I don’t know who you think you are!”

  He kept his voice even but enunciated every word. “Then let me explain. I’m the new man in Jane’s life. No one will mistreat her as long as I’m around. Although I’m sorry for your pain, that includes you.”

  She gaped at him as he turned to Betty and Maurice and bowed his head in farewell. “Dinner was excellent. Thank you so much for having us over.” He tugged on Jane’s arm. “Ready to go?”

  She got to her feet. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I’d do anything to be able to take it back.”

  Wendy glared at her with such hatred, Jane quickly called Kate and they headed for the door.

  “That was an interesting dinner,” Jane said when they were in the car.

  Sebastian was already beginning to regret what he’d done—or maybe it was just the way he’d done it that seemed wrong. He’d come across too strongly for someone so new to the situation, which probably hadn’t endeared him to anyone. He hadn’t been able to protect Emily and Colton, so he was overcompensating with Jane. But he couldn’t allow Wendy to mistreat her. Now that he had a second chance to do a better job with the people he loved, he figured he’d rather err on the side of overstatement.

  “She needed to hear it,” he said.

  Jane left it at that, but he guessed she might’ve said more if Kate hadn’t been in the car. Why couldn’t he have waited until the third or fourth meeting to plunge right into the heart of her family’s problems? Why did he always have to try and fix everything?

  Kate chattered all the way home about Horse, the dog at her grandma’s (which was so big it looked like its namesake), the trampoline in the backyard (her “absolute favorite thing ever”), her male cousins (one of whom she called “mean” for teasing her about being a shrimp). She didn’t seem to notice the strain between Sebastian and Jane. When they got home, she went to bed asking if Sebastian would be there when she got out of school the next day. She said she planned to make him a “gift” in her pottery class.

  Sebastian wasn’t sure if he’d be around. Jane meant a lot to him; he wanted to make their relationship work. But he was afraid their histories would always taint their actions in one way or another, make them overreact when they shouldn’t or withdraw when they should persist. He wasn’t positive they could overcome all that, wasn’t positive Jane would be willing to work through the rough patches.

  “You still mad at me?” he asked when they were finally alone in the living room.

  She was just logging on to her computer. He’d been surfing the Internet on his, pulling up maps of Sacramento and motels where he thought Malcolm might go because they were cheap.

  “No,” she said. “It just…it surprised me, I guess. I’m not used to having anyone fight my battles.”

  “I think it surprised everyone.”

  “No kidding.” Shaking her head, she began to laugh. “Wendy looked like she’d swallowed a golf ball.”

  “Maurice and Betty were struck speechless,” he added with chagrin.

  Jane’s laughter subsided, but her smile lingered. “Will you always be so take-charge?”

  He wished he could say no, but he knew himself too well. “Probably.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Watching her carefully, he posed his next question. “Do you think it’ll be a problem?”

  She met his eyes. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But I’ll let you know when you’re stepping on my toes.”

  He smiled. Maybe he’d overreacted by assuming they couldn’t make room for each other. “That’s fair.”

  She started typing, and he signed on to his e-mail account. Mary had sent him a message telling him how much she wanted to come home. He wrote her a quick reply, asking her to be patient. He’d also received a message from the handwriting specialist. She confirmed that the directions to Cache Creek he’d found in Ione were indeed Malcolm’s handwriting. It was a bit late for that information to help, but when he’d hired her, he hadn’t known things would develop the way they did. Thanks to Latisha’s brave escape, they had all the forensic evidence they’d need. The problem wasn’t proving Malcolm was alive or even guilty; the problem was finding him so they could use the evidence they had to put him away.

  Without leads, Sebastian had no idea how they’d do that. And yet…he wasn’t as distraught as he would’ve been a week ago. Somehow, being with Jane took the edge off the emotions that had cut him so badly.

  After returning the rest of his messages—a note from his mother and another one from his boss in New York—he sat with his computer open as if he was still working, but watched Jane instead. A frown creased her forehead, but she was so darn pretty he thought he could stare at her all day.

  Glancing up, she caught him. “What is it?” she asked.

  He wanted to tell her he’d just been thinking about how differently he’d begun to view everything since he’d met her, but those emotions were too new to put into words. “You were frowning. Something wrong?”

  “Not really. I’ve just been checking an e-mail account connected to the Web site at work. Skye usually does it, but she asked me to see to it while she was gone. There’s a message in here that concerns me, that’s all.”

  “What kind of message?”

  “It’s from an abused woman. Sounds like she might be in serious trouble.”

  He closed his laptop. “She’s asking for help?”

  “Yeah. She wants to meet with someone tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Will you take the appointment?”

  “Might as well,” she said as he walked over to her. “It’ll be right after the staff meeting. Skye, Ava and Sheridan will be there, but Sheridan’ll have the baby and Skye and Ava have been gone so long they need a chance to see their families. I can do it. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “I can stay here with Kate,” he said.

  Her frown dissolved into a grateful smile. “Thanks. Let me respond to her e-mail—then I’ll be done, too.”

  He massaged her shoulders while she typed. “How long does it take Kate to fall asleep?” he asked as she sent it.

  She twisted around to look up at him. “I don’t know. Why?”

  Jerking his head toward the hall, he grinned. “How’d you like to make up in the shower?”

  She didn’t answer with words. She stood and turned to face him, and her hands tugged his shirt from his pants as they kissed.

  There weren’t a lot of girls out tonight. It was too cold. And the ones Malcolm saw looked nothing like Latisha. Mostly, they were fat white girls with a few Asians and Mexicans thrown in. He couldn’t
even pretend they were like Latisha. Not once they opened their mouths, anyway. The profanity made them seem so…hardened. Odd that he hadn’t ever noticed that before. Or cared.

  Being reduced to searching for a look-alike made him feel like hurting somebody. But even with the sparse pickings, he wasn’t worried that he’d be able to get a girl into the van. All it took was money.

  He pulled to a stop at the corner of Stockton and 65th Street and lowered his window. When he made eye contact with a Mexican hooker, she smiled and sauntered closer. “Hey, you lookin’ for a date?” she said.

  It couldn’t be more than fifty degrees outside but her skirt came up as high as her ass and her blouse plunged down to her belly button. She wasn’t wearing a bra, no doubt to show off the nipple piercings that could easily be seen through her thin shirt. She wasn’t black, but her skin was almost the same golden color as Latisha’s.

  Would she do? He wasn’t particularly excited about her, but he couldn’t afford to be picky on a night like this….

  “How much?” he asked.

  “Depends on what you want.”

  “It’s too cold to be standing on a street corner,” he said.

  She straightened, studied her long red fingernails and glanced at the vehicle behind him as if she had a dozen takers lined up. “You ain’t gonna get this for free, but if you want oral sex the likes of which you ain’t never seen, you’ve come to the right place.”

  He considered his options. She’d just offered him a blow job. Did that mean she wouldn’t do it in the traditional way? Some of these girls tried to avoid it, or insisted on a condom, so they wouldn’t pick up a disease. If that was the case with this one, he was more interested rather than less—because chances were good she’d kept herself clean. “Will you let me tie you up?”

  “For the right price.”

  “How much?”

  “A hundred bucks.”

  She was dreaming. She wasn’t going to get a hundred bucks out of anyone. This was Sacramento, not New York. But he didn’t bother to argue. He didn’t plan on paying, anyway.