by Janet Dawson
The rain had eased a bit by the time the patrol car drove up the alley. It parked behind the BMW. Two young cops in uniforms walked to where I stood, near Karen’s body, and started asking questions. Then another vehicle pulled in behind the patrol car. My stomach tightened as I recognized the car, a black Mercury Cougar. The passenger door opened and a short stocky man with a receding hairline got out. His name was Wayne Hobart. He’d been Sid’s partner for years.
Wayne looked at me glumly, then over at the driver’s side of the Cougar. The door opened. Sid got out, his arms resting lightly on the top of the car door as we faced each other in the alley. Then he moved away from the car, slamming the door shut.
“Who is she?” Sid asked me, looking down at the body.
“Karen Willis.”
Sid’s eyes flickered at the name. He gazed at me, all business. He and Wayne listened as I told them how I’d discovered Karen’s body. When I mentioned Mark and Vee, I looked back in the direction of the shop. I saw Mark standing like a shadow under the single light bulb.
Sid followed my glance. “Go wait in the shop. Tell your friend to stay put. I want to talk to him. And his aunt.”
Dismissed, I walked slowly back to the shop. I passed the back door of the restaurant. The man I’d seen cooking at the stove now stood in the doorway, smoking a cigarette as he watched. The alley was bright with red-and-white lights as more police vehicles arrived. Curious onlookers from the apartment buildings across the way peered from driveways and balconies.
When I reached Vee’s shop, I stepped past Mark and saw Vee slumped on the sofa, wiping the tears from her face with the same towel she’d given Mark to dry his hair. Ziggy was coiled tightly in his basket. Mark knelt and stroked the dog’s head.
“Do you think he saw what happened?” he asked.
“The dog? I doubt it. I think he wandered down the alley, found her body, and stayed with it until we missed him.”
“I see your ex-husband took the call.”
“Luck of the draw.” I leaned tiredly against the wall. “He’ll be in to talk to you and Vee as soon as he and his partner finish out there. It could be a while.” I moved restlessly around the office area.
Mark pulled out his cigarettes. He rummaged on the desk surface and found a cracked saucer to use as an ashtray.
“She knew something,” I said. “She was going to tell me. I should have insisted on seeing her right away, when she called.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference where or when you saw her,” Mark said quietly. I examined his face, with its scar and the deep lines left by his frown. He looked troubled but controlled.
I walked to the doorway. Rain was still coming down, though not with the same intensity as it had earlier. It had washed away a lot of the evidence while Vee and I had sat and waited for Karen, while all the time she’d been lying dead in the alley. I saw strobes flashing as a police photographer took pictures of the scene. Cops with flashlights ranged up and down the alley, looking in garbage cans, looking for the murder weapon.
As I stood there I felt angry, angry with myself. I’d been here in the antique shop drinking tea while out in the alley someone killed Karen. I hadn’t even realized anything was wrong until the damn dog didn’t come back. Her hand was cold when I picked it up to check the pulse, whether from rain or time I didn’t know. What I did know was that I’d been in the shop for almost an hour, and Karen, attempting to keep her appointment with me, was murdered in the alley less than fifty yards from where I sat, teacup in hand. The thought of it filled me with anger, despair, frustration.
Time dragged by. Mark paced a rut in front of the display counter, filling the saucer with ash and butts as he smoked one cigarette after another. I made some more tea for Vee. She’d stopped crying now, but her face was as white as paper, and every few moments she bit her lip. Finally Sid loomed out of the darkness. He stepped past me into the shop and gave Mark a cool once-over. Then his eyes rested on Vee, sitting on the sofa.
“This is Vera Burke,” I said, “Karen’s aunt.”
“Mrs. Burke, I’m Sergeant Vernon, Homicide. I’d like to talk with you.”
Vee straightened and pushed a strand of hair back from her face. She folded the damp towel in her lap, then threaded her fingers together and placed her hands on top of it. She nodded at Sid.
“Have a seat, Mr. Willis. You too, Jeri. I have a few questions.”
Mark moved to a spot near the sofa but remained standing, his hand resting lightly on Vee’s shoulder. I stood leaning against the desk, my arms folded across my chest.
Sid took a notebook and pen from the inner pocket of his jacket and poised a pen over a blank page. The pen glittered in the light. It was a gold Cross, engraved with his initials. I’d given it to him on our last anniversary together. In a cold professional voice Sid asked Mark where he lived.
“Cibola, near Jackson.”
“What are you doing in the Bay Area?”
“I heard my sister was missing,” Mark said.
“So you decided to help Jeri look for her?” Mark didn’t answer. “When did you arrive?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“And where are you staying?”
“With my aunt.”
Sid turned to me. “What are you doing here, Jeri?”
“I had an appointment to meet Karen Willis here at six,” I said.
“Why?”
“She called me this afternoon and told me she had some information. She suggested the time and the meeting place, and I agreed.”
“So as far as you know, she was coming here to meet you.”
“That’s right. She was late. I thought she’d been delayed by traffic, or that she wasn’t coming.”
“Did you know about this meeting, Mr. Willis?” Sid turned his gaze to Mark.
“I was in Jeri’s office when Karen called.”
“When did you leave?”
“Right after you did. I didn’t look at the time.”
“Where did you go?”
“San Francisco. On business.”
“What kind of business?”
“I’m a picture framer. I had to pick up some supplies.”
“So you’re combining business with your concern for your sister. Where is this supplier located?”
“South of Market. Near Eleventh and Folsom.” The same area as the studio where Karen had worked. I looked hard at Mark as he pulled his wallet from the hip pocket of his blue jeans and extracted a buff-colored business card. He held it out.
Sid took it and glanced at the engraved print. “What did you buy?”
“Moldings and mats, a few other things. They’re in the back of my Blazer.”
“Where is your vehicle?” Sid asked.
“Parked on the next block, near the corner of Forty-First and Howe.”
“What time did you leave the city?” Sid’s voice was deceptively calm.
“Four-thirty, four-forty-five.” Mark sounded calm, but I saw his face tense.
“And what time did you get here?”
“Sometime after six-thirty, I think. I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure.” Sid’s bushy eyebrows went up. He turned his gaze on Vee, sitting on the sofa with her hands knotted in the towel. “Do you know what time your nephew got here, Mrs. Burke?”
“I think it was around a quarter to seven,” she whispered, her agonizing eyes going from Sid to Mark.
“What about you, Jeri?” Sid burned a look at me. “Can you confirm what time Mr. Willis got here?”
“Six-forty, give or take a few minutes. Where is all this leading?” Trouble was, I knew damn well where Sid was headed and I didn’t know how to derail his train of thought.
“So, you left San Francisco at four-thirty or a quarter to five, and you got to Oakland at approximately six-forty. That’s roughly two hours for a trip that normally takes half an hour.”
“It takes longer than that in rush hour,” Mark said evenly. “Th
ere was an accident on the Bay Bridge, on the cantilevered section just past Treasure Island. Traffic was at a dead stop for forty-five minutes to an hour, then it crawled all the way to Oakland. I’m sure CHP can confirm it.”
“I’ll check.” Sid shut the notebook. “That still doesn’t tell me when you got to Oakland. I think we’d better go downtown and talk about it some more.”
I pushed away from the desk and stepped between Sid and Mark. “You’ve got nothing,” I said.
“Don’t I? He could have killed her anytime before he got here.”
“You’re reaching, Sid. Why would he kill his sister? He hadn’t seen her in years.”
“He killed his parents fifteen years ago, for no apparent reason,” Sid said. “That makes him a damn good suspect as far as I’m concerned. Besides, there’s another body in the morgue with a cut throat.”
“Am I being charged with murder, Sergeant?” Mark’s face hardened into a mask, the scar standing out as the skin drained of color. He held himself very still, but I saw a pulse beating at his temple. Vee watched them with wide, horrified eyes as she realized what was happening.
“I’m taking you in for further questioning.” Sid tucked away the notebook and pen.
“Then cut the bullshit and let’s go.” Mark swept up his damp jacket and moved toward the back door.
I grabbed his arm. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Don’t I?” He shook me off and stepped out into the alley. “Take Vee home.”
“Don’t answer any more questions, Mark. I’ll be right down, Sid. With a lawyer.” Sid shrugged and followed Mark into the alley.
“He couldn’t have done it.” Vee stood up and took a step, as though she planned to follow Mark. I caught her arms. She was shaking.
“I’ll take care of it, Vee. I have a friend who’s a lawyer.” Vee scooped the little dog out of his basket and cradled him in her arms as I picked up the phone on her desk.
“Karen Willis has been murdered,” I told Cassie when she answered. “Elizabeth may be dead too. Sid took Mark downtown for questioning. Will you meet me there?”
“Oh, Lord, I’m in my bathrobe. Let me throw myself together. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Twenty-one
SID WAS CONVINCED THE FLOATER IN THE MORGUE was Elizabeth Willis, although the woman who’d been pulled from the estuary had not yet been identified. Mark was a convicted murderer, Sid pointed out. Both women — his sisters — had died in the same manner. And he didn’t buy Mark’s story about being stuck in traffic on the Bay Bridge.
“You don’t have a case,” I said. We were in the glassed-in lieutenant’s office, glaring at each other over the desk. “You don’t even know if that Jane Doe is Elizabeth Willis.”
“If it is I’m gonna be asking Willis some hard questions. Even if it isn’t, I’ve got the other sister in the morgue and your friend with a shaky story.”
“You told me the coroner estimated that body had been in the water two days. I saw Mark Willis in Cibola two days ago.”
“The coroner’s estimate is just a guess. Cibola’s maybe three hours from Oakland. He could drive here and back in a night. Besides, why did he show up here yesterday?”
“He came to see me.” I decided to omit Mark’s story about the car that nearly ran him down in Cibola. That was a tangent I didn’t care to explore right now.
Sid ignored my explanation. “Willis had plenty of opportunity to kill both women.”
“No motive,” I argued. “And no murder weapon.”
Cassie’s arrival ended the conversation. Her idea of throwing herself together was full lawyer regalia, a severe charcoal gray pin-striped suit with a pale gray blouse, black pumps to match her black briefcase, and little gold studs in her earlobes. She swept into the noisy, smoky room that housed Homicide Section, getting appreciative stares from the night shift.
Cassie and I went out into the hall. “Has Mark said anything?” she asked. “Since he got here, I mean? They can’t hold Mark if he won’t cooperate. Sid will have to arrest him and it sounds like he’s not ready to do that.”
I shrugged. “They’ve got Mark stashed in an interview room. He answered Sid’s questions at the shop, but I told him not to say anything more.”
Cassie squared her shoulders. “Let’s go talk to Sid.” I held the door open for her. Cassie sailed back into Homicide Section and set her briefcase on the desk with a thump, favoring Sid with a cool smile.
“You’re holding my client, Sergeant Vernon,” she said sweetly. “Mark Willis. Are you going to charge him?”
“I want to question him further, Ms. Taylor. I’d advise you to tell him it’s in his best interest to cooperate.”
“You asked him plenty of questions at the scene, all of which he answered without hesitation. You want cooperation? What if he agrees to talk to you tomorrow morning? With counsel present, of course. That will give you time to contact CHP to verify the details of that accident on the Bay Bridge. And to contact the framing supplier.”
“I think I have ample reason to hold Willis,” Sid replied, matching her smile with one of his own, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Cassie laughed, a gentle tinkling sound. “Don’t jerk me around, Sid. Charge him or let him go.”
Sid gazed at her for a long moment, considering. I watched his eyes, but they gave no clue of what was on his mind. I wasn’t sure he’d go for Cassie’s proposal. But he didn’t have much choice.
“All right. Talk to him. If he agrees to come in tomorrow, I’ll cut him loose. Ten o’clock, this office.”
Sid led the way to the interrogation room, where Hobart waited near the door. The partners conferred for a moment and I saw Hobart shake his head. Either he didn’t like the idea of letting Mark go or he was confirming my guess that Mark had refused to answer further questions. I looked past them. Mark stood at the back of the room, in a corner where he could see all of it. His hands were stuck deep into the pockets of his leather jacket.
Finally Sid and Hobart came to some agreement. They motioned Cassie and me into the room. Mark’s eyes went from my face to Cassie’s, questioning. “Cassie’s an attorney,” I said.
“Sergeant Vernon has agreed that it would be far more sensible to ask his questions tomorrow morning,” Cassie told him. “With me present. Will you agree to that?” Mark thought about it for a long moment. Then he nodded. “Good. We need to talk, then.”
“Anywhere but here,” Mark said. He zipped up his jacket and walked out of the room.
It had stopped raining while we were at police headquarters, but the streets still shone wetly. We drove to Biff’s, an all-night coffee shop near Twenty-Seventh and Broadway, Cassie in her own car, and Mark in the passenger seat next to me. He didn’t say anything as we drove. My eyes flickered between the wet pavement and my rearview mirror, at a pair of headlights that had followed me all the way up Broadway from police headquarters. The car made the turn onto Twenty-Seventh several lengths behind me, then went past as I pulled into the coffee-shop parking lot. It was a sedan, but I couldn’t tell the make, model, or color and I didn’t see the driver. I parked my car, shut off the engine, and unlatched my safety belt.
“I didn’t kill her,” Mark said, sitting motionless. Then his hand reached for his belt latch. “I didn’t kill either of them.”
“I know.” But I didn’t know, not for sure. I just wanted to believe it. “We don’t know that Elizabeth’s dead. Cassie’s a good lawyer. Trust her.”
We went inside and settled into a booth. The waitress kept the coffee coming while Cassie probed and questioned Mark, preparing for tomorrow’s session with Sid. I excused myself and called Vee from a pay phone. After the police had taken Mark away I had followed Vee’s Cadillac as she drove home to the house on Monticello. I worried about leaving her, but the housekeeper, named Nellie, looked unflappable. She listened to my blurted explanation and took Vee upstairs, the Yorkie trailing forlornly behind.
Now V
ee answered the phone, her voice tremulous but calm. I brought her up to date. She told me she’d called Alice Gray in Stockton, and that she was trying to reach her husband at his medical convention in Baltimore.
I went back to the booth. Cassie had been making notes on a yellow legal pad, but now she’d set aside the pen and was sipping her coffee. Exhaustion painted Mark’s face with deep shadows.
“How are we doing?” I asked.
“We’re doing fine.” Cassie looked so assured and confident I almost believed her. She stowed the pad and pen in her briefcase. She pulled a couple of bills from the wallet and covered the check. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine-thirty, Mark. Where are you staying?”
“I don’t know,” he said dully, staring into his coffee cup. He looked up with a brief, apologetic smile. “I was staying with Vee, but I just can’t go back there. I’ll find a motel.”
He looked like a man who didn’t need to be alone. “My place,” I said. “I’ve got a sofa bed.”
The waitress collected the check and we walked out to the parking lot. After Cassie left, Mark and I got into my car. I drove to Forty-First and Howe, where he’d left his Blazer. All the way there I checked my rearview mirror, but there was no sign of the car that had followed us earlier. If it had been following us.
I waited while Mark started his engine and switched on the lights. He pulled the Blazer out of its parking place and followed me closely as I drove home. I pulled my car into my parking space. Mark found a spot farther down the street. He walked toward me as I unlocked the front gate and checked my mailbox.
Abigail started to make a racket as soon as we hit the door. I picked up her food and water bowls. While I opened a can of cat food, Mark knelt and scratched her ears. She butted her head against his blue jeans and purred.
“What’s her name?”
“Abigail. You should feel fortunate. She doesn’t usually take to strangers.”