The Color of Death

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Veronica thought for a moment. “What about Novak International? It’s run by Lucas Novak, who is a former deputy with the Orange County Sheriff’s Department. He’s got good investigative experience in the major crimes division, plus he did a stint with the SWAT team before going private. If he’s not on retainer with some of the local banks, he’d certainly be able to point you in the right direction.”

  “Does he have experience with cases like Kelly’s?” Tessa asked. She got out her black notebook to write down the investigator’s name.

  “He should. Most of his business now centers on family issues, custody cases, kidnappings, ransoms in Mexico, runaways. He also has a division that provides corporate security and bodyguard services, as well as fraud detection and prevention. He’s a bit of a renegade, but a damned good investigator.”

  Tessa nodded and closed her notebook. “Thanks. I’ll talk to the owner. Hopefully he can help me take some of the pressure off Ed. And you, when you get back on duty.”

  “I’m counting the days—five more. I love my baby girl, but being stuck with her at home all day”—she shook her head—“there are times when I spend twenty minutes on the phone with telemarketers just to have an adult conversation.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty bad.” Tessa laughed. “Still, you’re lucky to have a healthy daughter and a husband willing to share baby duty.”

  “I think Mike is freaked at the idea of a six-month leave of absence from the force. But he loves Jordan and agrees with me that she’s too young to go to day care for sixty or seventy hours a week. It’s going to be a big hit financially, and probably for Mike’s career, but…” Veronica shrugged.

  She hadn’t planned things this way, but she hadn’t planned on dating a coworker and getting pregnant, either. Still, they were making the best of the situation, and building a stronger relationship each day. And despite the sacrifices, having Jordan was a joy she’d never dreamed of before.

  Tessa saw the dreamy look come over Veronica’s face and sighed. Another good friend lost to the baby bug. She felt like she was the only thirty-three-year-old in L.A. who wasn’t married with at least one munchkin hanging on her business skirts.

  “There she goes, off to babyland. Go ahead and call Mike if you want to check on her,” Tessa said.

  “Just wait. One day you’ll be responsible for a perfect, tiny little person. Then you’ll understand. I can’t wait for that to happen.”

  “You know the Plan—career until I’m thirty-six, then focused dating, then marriage, then babies. I’m just not capable of dividing my attention like you are. I’m either focused on my career or on my private life. Not both,” Tessa assured her.

  “Famous last words.” Veronica smiled knowingly. “Kids are remarkably resilient. The notion that you can’t be a great parent and a fully productive employee is a thing of the past.”

  Tessa thought of her own father, how his career had taken over every aspect of his life and caused him to leave his young daughter to fend for herself after her mother had died.

  “Not everyone is capable of multitasking like that,” Tessa said. “Besides, I’m not even going out with anyone. Too busy trying to expand my caseload to something beyond small-time felonies and misdemeanors. I want some cases where I can make a difference.”

  “You’d have them, too, if you’d only accept the promotion that’s been offered. Twice,” Veronica said.

  “I don’t want anyone to think that I’ve cashed in on my name. I want to be promoted on my own merits, not because my father used to run the FBI.”

  “Tessa, you graduated cum laude from the University of Virginia. You set up a Legal Aid clinic here that serves thousands of people every year. You’ve been working piddly shit cases for the last two district attorneys for almost five years. In fact, you make it possible for the D.A. to focus on the big political cases by taking care of the meat-and-potatoes stuff. I think you’ve more than earned your stripes.”

  “I hope you’re right. Because I’m going to ask to keep Kelly Martin’s rape case. If this isn’t big and political, I don’t know what is. But I know I can do it.”

  “Because you’re emotionally involved? I wouldn’t use that tack with the D.A. if I were you,” Veronica said.

  “I won’t. I’m going to hire an investigator, light a fire under Ed’s feet, and schedule an interview with Sledge Aiken to get his side of the story. And then I’m going to close this case by using due diligence and letting the system work.”

  “Don’t forget me. I’m with you on this one,” Veronica said.

  Even if something doesn’t feel right about your victim’s story

  Chapter 3

  Los Angeles, California

  Tuesday, February 23

  Detective Ed Flynn pushed through the doors of Felipe’s Shrimp Shack, looking for the two women he was meeting for lunch. He didn’t see his girls inside, so they must be on the patio, enjoying the winter sunshine.

  His girls.

  That’s how he thought of them, as the daughters he’d never had. And right now, he was very much afraid one of his girls was in over her head.

  He sought out Tessa’s familiar compact frame and blond hair at one of the tables on the edge of the patio. She always sat in that spot if possible, because his Tessa was a creature of habit. Ed smiled slightly at the thought. Those habits had turned her from a green law school graduate into an indispensable junior prosecutor for the District Attorney’s Office in a record period of time.

  He switched his gaze to Ronnie, his other girl, the young officer from Minnesota he’d helped mold from meter maid to an officer on the major crimes squad. Another of his works in progress, and he couldn’t be prouder of either one.

  But right now, something was wrong with the case they were about to embark on, and he needed answers to make sure his girls didn’t get burned.

  “Over here, Ed.” Tessa jumped up to kiss his cheek when he reached the table, an act which never failed to make him turn red with pleasure and embarrassment. It was such fun that Ronnie stood up to do the same thing.

  “You been surfing without sunscreen again?” Ronnie asked wickedly, watching the color rise higher in his face.

  “Every day of my life,” Ed replied.

  Waking up at five in the morning for several hours of surfing before work was a ritual from his teenage years. The four decades of sun and salt water since then had turned his thinning, light brown hair almost white and given his face a weathered, ruddy appearance. His eyes were surrounded by pale wrinkles, a legacy of squinting into the sun while waiting for the perfect wave.

  Right now, those serious brown eyes settled on Tessa’s upturned face.

  She stilled when she picked up on his tension. “Do you have something on Kelly’s case? Were you able to talk to Sledge Aiken?”

  “You’d better sit down for this one, Tessie,” Ed said, taking a seat himself and pulling her half-empty plate to his side of the table.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I spent the better part of yesterday on the phone with the CBI. That’s the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. They’re in charge of processing civil and criminal identification files and records, among other things,” Ed began.

  “And?” Ronnie and Tessa asked together.

  “And they have no record of young Kelly Martin existing in the state of Colorado. No birth certificate for a Kelly Martin that matches the date of birth you supplied, no driver’s license that matches the Polaroid photo of her you gave me.”

  “What does that mean? Is it some bureaucratic mix-up?” Tessa asked.

  “What it means is that there is no Kelly Martin, date of birth 12 January, blond hair, blue eyes, five-foot-two and 105 pounds,” Ed read the information off a notepad he’d pulled out. “Said Kelly Martin does not exist, according to the state of Colorado.”

  “How can that be?” Tessa asked.

  “It can’t—unless your victim isn’t telling the truth about something.”


  “Wait. At the hospital she didn’t have any ID. She said her wallet had been stolen shortly after she arrived in LA,” Tessa said. “Maybe there’s some kind of identity theft thing going on—you know, someone creating a whole new identity using Kelly’s name and social security number?”

  Ed shook his head. “Could be, but there are hundreds of Kelly Martins registered with social security. It’s a common name. Maybe too common.”

  Tessa sat back as she tried to take in the information. If it had come from anyone but Ed, she would argue that there was a mistake. But Ed was a thirty-year veteran of the force, and he simply didn’t make this kind of error.

  “What about the credit card data I gave you? Did anything pop with it?” she asked.

  “The cardholders all have accounts in good standing. The cards weren’t reported stolen,” Ed replied.

  “Thank God for that,” Tessa said. “So maybe Kelly really was giving them to her cousin so they could be returned to their owners.”

  “Don’t be too relieved. The owners may simply not be aware that their cards are missing yet.”

  Tessa bit her lip. “I’ll have to contact the issuers and see if there’s any recent activity on those cards.”

  “Good. I’d be especially interested in any activity since Kelly left the hospital. Looking to see if she’s charged a bunch of high-ticket items since then would be a good start.”

  “Once you meet her, you’ll see that she’s not like that.”

  Ed hesitated, then spoke. “Tessie, there are several very strange aspects to Kelly’s story. We need to talk to her about them. Where is she right now?” Ed asked.

  “She’s staying with her cousin. I don’t know where—she wouldn’t let me drive her home, wouldn’t even tell me his name. She said she didn’t want to make waves, you know, because her cousin is letting her stay in his house as long as she wants for free.”

  “How are you supposed to get in touch with her?” Ronnie asked.

  “Kelly gave me a pager number where I can reach her. I’m going to leave a message for her right now.” Tessa got her cell phone out and left the patio so she wouldn’t disturb the other diners.

  “You really think there’s something screwy with Kelly Martin and her story?” Ronnie asked Ed.

  “Yeah. She’s not telling the truth—or at least not all of it. The credit card issue is a red flag for me, even though Tessie is trying to explain it away. I hope she doesn’t get her teeth kicked in on this one. The case is too big and the suspect too rich for her to take him on with what she’s got now.”

  “She can handle it. You’ve seen to that yourself by teaching her the ropes.”

  “I know. But something is going on beneath the surface here. Otherwise, Kelly’s supposedly quiet, middle-class upbringing in Denver would be documented by the state of Colorado.”

  “So you’ll talk to Kelly and straighten things out.”

  “I think the big problem is going to be convincing Tessa not to go balls out on this case,” Ed said.

  “Yeah. She told me she’s going to ask the D.A. to be assigned first chair on this case. She said she wants to make a difference, to work on a case that has substance for once.”

  Ed shook his head.

  Ronnie leaned forward, her voice low. “You think we’ll be able to prosecute?”

  “I don’t know. Tessie understands the system inside and out by now—probably better than anyone because she started at the very bottom and learned every one of the rules the hard way. But…”

  “But not everyone plays by the rules,” Ronnie finished for Ed.

  “Yeah. I wonder how she’ll react when she encounters someone who doesn’t give a shit about playing fair and will do anything to win.”

  Chapter 4

  Santa Monica, California

  Thursday, February 25

  Tessa verified the address of Novak International, Inc. a third time. Apparently, Lucas Novak had rented space in a small medical and insurance business mall on the edge of a residential neighborhood, rather than going for the exclusive and chic real estate in Hollywood or Beverly Hills. It was a sound business decision that would keep overhead down, even if it wasn’t the best marketing approach.

  She rang the bell and was greeted by an efficient receptionist who showed her to Mr. Novak’s office. Though he was on the phone, he waved Tessa in and offered her a seat. It was clear he was wrapping up the discussion, so she took a moment to study him while he typed an entry onto his small laptop.

  He was big enough not to be dwarfed by the large executive desk he sat behind—a desk that was notable for its lack of decoration and clutter. Tessa thought of her own work surface with its overflowing piles of files, sticky notes, and memos jotted on the back of used copier paper. While the rest of her life was quite organized, her desk was a disaster. She liked it that way.

  The man seated across from her caught her eye and shrugged apologetically, motioning that he would be with her soon. She smiled as he rolled his light-colored eyes. He was obviously trying to be diplomatic with the person on the other end of the line.

  “That’s right, Mr. Soares. I’m obligated by law to report that the theft of your coin collection was committed by your grandson. I realize you are my client and paid me to investigate the crime. But the fact is an insurance claim was filed, you collected the money, and it’s now an issue for the cops. I can’t stop their case now just because you don’t want your grandson arrested.”

  Tessa watched as Novak raked a hand through thick brown hair that was turning gray at the temples. His handsome face was creased in a frown of concentration as he looked through his computer files. She saw that his eyes were hazel, a mix of light brown and green and blue that was striking even in the low office lighting. She knew he was thirty-six from her research, but he looked much younger, despite the bits of silver in his hair.

  “I’m going to give you the name of a good defense attorney. It’s possible with restitution of funds to the insurer and a family court sentence for your grandson, you can make this all go away. It’s out of my hands, though, as I warned you it would be if you filed an insurance claim.”

  Tessa watched Novak shrug his shoulders. Very broad shoulders. He wore a casual oxford-type shirt tucked into khakis, which emphasized the wedge shape of his chest. She remembered Ronnie saying Novak had worked with the Orange County Sheriff’s SWAT team, so clearly he was once in excellent physical shape. Life behind a desk hadn’t changed that as far as she could see.

  “Sorry about that, Ms. Jacobi. That particular client has a personal problem I got involved with. I didn’t want to cut him loose without giving him some ideas on how to proceed.”

  “I know what you mean. I often spend more time on my petty crime and misdemeanor cases because the people involved are so…needy. It’s hard to say no sometimes,” Tessa smiled.

  “My assistant MacBeth tells me you’re a prosecutor with the Los Angeles District Attorney’s Office,” Luke said. MacBeth was his primary investigator and sometime assistant, the person in the office who fielded most of the new cases to determine whether they were viable for Novak International.

  “Yes. I’ve been there over four years. While I’ve never worked with Novak International, my office occasionally farms out cases to local bonded investigators.”

  “That’s us. All of my employees are former peace officers who are able to make arrests, gather evidence for trial, perform legal surveillance, and so on. Although I have to admit, it’s not the bread and butter of the company,” Novak said.

  “Why? There are plenty of firms that make their overhead doing that type of work.”

  “I don’t need all the rules, paperwork, and bureaucratic ass-kissing that goes along with getting those contracts,” Novak said bluntly, watching for her reaction. “If I’d wanted that, I would have stayed with the sheriff’s department.”

  Tessa hesitated, then reminded herself that this was exactly what she was looking for. She needed someone who co
uld discreetly investigate an aspect of the case that she wanted to soft-pedal to the police. At least for now.

  “Point taken, Mr. Novak. I’ve kissed more than my share of ass with the D.A.’s Office, and it’s something the police seem to do particularly well when it comes to certain key players. Frankly, that’s why I need someone like you.”

  “Call me Luke. Or Novak. We’re not much on ceremony around here, Tessa.” He leaned back and put his feet on the desk just to see how she would react. Poking at the pretty, uptight prosecutor was proving to be the most entertaining part of his week so far. He wondered how far he could push her before she pushed back—always a good thing to know with a prospective client.

  Tessa had been around enough cops to know when she was being tested. And to know that passing the test was important to earning the respect of the man casually reclining across from her with his feet on the desk.

  “Luke it is,” Tessa said. She pushed her chair back far enough to prop her own feet on the desk as well.

  Luke’s eyes goggled as he took in her pale brown suede pumps and slender calves encased in silky nylons. His gaze went up her legs, and he could have sworn he saw a hint of creamy lace underneath her business skirt.

  “Is this outrageous enough, or do I have to grunt and scratch my crotch as well to play in your boys’ club?” Tessa asked with an arched brow.

  Luke laughed out loud as he sat up and put his feet back on the floor. “You’ll do, Tessa Jacobi. You’ll do just fine. I should have known better than to dare a woman with an Italian last name.”

  Tessa chuckled as she sat up and smoothed her skirt to cover her legs once more. “Comes from hanging out with cops. My family is actually Swiss—from the part of the country near the Italian border.”

  “Swiss. That explains the organized and no-nonsense approach.”

  “It goes far with the prosecutor’s office. And it helps when I’m dealing with a complicated case and a VIP suspect that no one wants to upset with something as pesky and irritating as an investigation,” Tessa said.