Girl With a Past

by Sherri Leigh James

  “Good to see you kids.” Tom turned to me. His grin brought twinkles to his eyes. “Especially good to see you lookin’ healthy. What’s up?”

  We shook hands over his oak desk. The oak paneling, sisal carpet, and leather chairs went well with his jeans, cashmere V-neck over a polo shirt, and beat up cowboy boots. Other than deep lines around his mouth and warm brown eyes, and the shorter graying hair, he looked much like he had in Carol’s photo.

  “Have a seat.” Tom gestured at the Stickley oak chairs.

  “We’re trying to get information about the summer and fall of 1969 that you spent at the Gregg’s farmhouse.” I was surprised to see Tom’s face pale under his sailing tan, but I continued. “We just came from seeing Mrs. Mac. She told us who, including you, lived there; Uncle Dave said it was a year of drugs, sex and rock’n roll. Our parents, just so you don’t worry about what you say to us, have always been honest about their wild youth.”

  “Why do you ask?” Tom asked with a forced smile. “Are you writin’ a thesis?”

  I really did need to prepare a speech for these guys. What do I say? I’m trying to figure if one of you kidnapped my mother? Or shot at me?

  “Our mother’s missing. I was shot.”

  “Well, I know about you bein’ shot. And your Dad called me to recommend a PI firm.” Tom frowned. “But what the hell does this have to do with the farm in 1969?”

  “I don’t know, maybe nothing. But we feel like we have to look into every possibility and this is such a long shot, well, the police aren’t gonna . . ."

  “What kind of possibilities are you thinkin’?” Tom asked.

  “Mrs. Mac said you had house parties with like thirty people. Any of them connected to like, I don’t know, Weathermen? Or Black Panthers, or . . .? Well––it was Berkeley in the sixties.”

  “That was the whole point of the ranch; it wasn’t Berkeley, no tear gas, no National Guard; just peace and quiet, music and love. We weren’t political––other than avoidin’ the draft, but hell, that was more self-preservation. No radical groups. We weren’t into that shit. Every one of us went to law school. We expected bright futures. Sure didn’t want to fuck them up.”

  “What about the drugs?” Steven asked.

  “We avoided any that would really get us into trouble, and certainly didn’t deal. It was also part of the reason why we kept pretty much to our own group of friends. Never wide open parties.”

  “Ever any strangers come around there?” I asked.

  “Chicks, not men. No one threatenin’.”

  “What chicks?”

  “I don’t know.” He grinned. “They were strangers. Seriously, I never got involved with any strangers.”

  “Did anybody have anything against Lexi?”

  “We had nothin’ to do with her murder. That was the Zodiac guy,” he snapped at me, then caught himself and smiled. “Sorry kids, but my one o’clock appointment.” He pointed at his watch.

  “Just one more thing. What did you think of Lexi?” I couldn’t help myself, I mean how many times do you get the chance to hear the truth of what others think of you? I know I’m not Lexi now, but I was.

  “Oh hell, hate to speak ill of the dead. But. She was a selfish bitch. Terribly talented, but a typical artist. Only cared about her work.”

  “Did she shut you down?”

  His face went red. “No.”

  Liar.

  CHAPTER

  44

  We headed to Oakland.

  I called Carol as we drove south across the Carquinez Bridge.

  “Hi Carol.” Would I ever be able to tell her just how long we’d known each other?

  “Al, you sound good. Thank God. I was freaked. Any word from Lauren?”

  “No.”

  “O-oh,” Carol sighed. “I’m glad you’re okay. I stopped by your parent’s house to check on you today. I was surprised you weren’t there.”

  “We’re looking for Mom.”

  “Let the police and Jeff’s investigators do that, please,” Carol said.

  “I can’t do that. No way I’m going to lie in bed waiting to hear,” I said.

  “Please be careful. You should be resting. I’m amazed Steven let you––”

  “His choices were to come with or stay behind.”

  “I see.” Carol sighed again. “Well, I left food in the fridge and on the kitchen counter. Goodies from Citizen Cake.”

  My favorite bakery. The thought reminded me we hadn’t eaten much since breakfast, but I was too anxious to have an appetite. My stomach flip-flopped every time I thought of Mom.

  “Thanks. Your thoughtfulness is much appreciated.” I paused for a second between subjects. “You said you’ve done some research about serial killers?”

  “Ye-a-h,” Carol said guardedly.

  “So, what do you think is going on here?”

  “I don’t . . . why do you think this has anything to do with serial killers?

  “It seems like this all started when I got interested in Jeff’s, uh, Dad’s file on Lexi’s murder. Do you think she was killed by the Zodiac?”

  “That’s what we were told by the police. I didn’t have any real evidence otherwise.”

  “What about Lexi’s concern that someone was trying to harm, maybe kill you?”

  “Whaaat? How did you––? I’d forgotten about that.” She let out a deep sigh. “Who the hell brought that up?”

  “Is there a connection?” I asked.

  “No. That had to ’ve been nonsense. After all, I’m still here. I haven’t had a serious accident since . . . hmm, 1969.”

  “So not since Lexi died?”

  “Yeah. What’s your point?” Carol’s annoyance came through the phone line loud and clear. “Lexi had nothing to do with my accident-prone days.”

  “I don’t know. Is it possible that Lexi was the intended victim all along?” As soon as I said it I realized that that theory didn’t really fit all the facts.

  “There was one time. A car Lexi and I were both in lost its brakes. But that was the only time that any of the accidents I had could’ve threatened Lexi,” Carol said. “No, it makes no sense. It was just Lexi’s imagination running away with her sense.”

  “What about the mugger?” I asked.

  “How the hell––? Who have you been talking to?”

  “Unless the killer was just working his way up to a more overt kill, and the two of you were convenient targets,” I theorized aloud.

  “What are you saying? That the killer was someone Lexi and I knew?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Look, from what I know of serial killers, it’s true that sometimes they work their way up to actual killing with lesser acts of violence like torturing animals, roughing people up. So-called accidentally hurting other children . . . stuff like that. So it’s not entirely out of the question that the accidents I had were some how connected. But––and this is a big but in my head––that would have to mean that Lexi was killed by someone we knew. Or at least, that’s what I think you’re saying?”

  “And?”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Think about it Al. We still know all the same people who were Lexi’s friends then, and as far as I can tell, no one has been killing anyone in the last few decades.”

  “As far as you can tell,” I emphasized.

  Carol was silent so long I thought I’d lost the connection.

  “Where are you now?” she finally asked

  “On our way to Elliott’s office, or maybe his and Nancy’s house in Piedmont.”

  “Stay there. Let Nancy take care of you. Or head home. You really should get a good night’s rest,” Carol said. “God, I can’t believe you left the hospital. Let me speak with your brother. He needs to take you home.”

  “Bye, Carol. Thanks for the info.” I hung up.

  “Do you think we can catch Elliott in his office?” I asked Steven just as his phone rang. He answered via the Bluetooth in the car, so I heard Carol
insisting he take me straight back to our parents’ and put me back to bed.

  “Got it Aunt Carol,” he said.

  Steven indicated the line of slow moving, stop-and-go traffic ahead of us.

  “I’m taking you home.” His face was set in that stubborn look that I knew well.

  CHAPTER

  45

  We stood at the kitchen counter so ravenous that we bolted down the food Carol had left for us without sitting.

  The drive through rush hour traffic had kept us on the road well past dark. I felt lightheaded, my pain only slightly relieved by the pills Steven had handed me.

  “Go to bed, Al,” Steven ordered.

  “Can we get started early tomorrow?”

  “Elliott probably doesn’t get into his office much before nine. Do you want to show up at their house for breakfast?” Steven asked. He was sweeping the take out containers into the trash, washing out the recyclables.

  “I’m thinking maybe he won’t be as forthcoming with his wife there.” I lifted an eyebrow at my brother. “Tom lied about a couple things, BTW.”

  “Like what?”

  “Mrs. Mac said he had a different girl there every week until he hooked up with Linda. Some of them had to ’ve been strangers.” I thought about Tom. Not only had he definitely come on to me when I was Lexi, he also was infamous for his pickup lines and his promiscuity. “He took every advantage of that free love shit.”

  Steven glanced away from the sink and gave me a look. “You gonna explain anything to me sometime soon?”

  “What do ya mean?”

  “You seem to have a train of thought that I’m not following.”

  “Humph.” Maybe I would have to at least talk to Steven about my new understanding of life . . . and death, but I wasn’t ready for that yet. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

  “Good.” Steven nodded. “Good night.”

  I drifted off as soon as my head hit the pillow. Those pain pills really knocked me out every time. When I came to, the bedside clock said ten twenty. I lay still, hoping to fall back asleep. When that proved futile, I listened to hear if Steven, or Dad were still up, if they were in the house.

  I opened my bedroom door, thinking I would hear the ten o’clock news on the television in the den. But the house was quiet except for the breezes off the ocean rattling a window or two. I pulled on sweats, a jacket, and sneakers, and quietly let myself out of the side door slipping past the security guards. I needed fresh air, a walk to shake the restlessness.

  Lights were starting to go off in the surrounding houses. There was something liberating about being out in the night by myself, with no destination, free to wander.

  I planned to walk until I felt relaxed, tired enough to go back to sleep. My feet carried me through the Presidio and up into the hills of Pacific Heights. I realized I had walked a very long way when I found myself in Derek’s neighborhood. I decided to walk by his house.

  I was across the street, trying not to look like a stalker when a small SUV pulled into his driveway. Lian got out of the driver’s door. He walked around to the back of the house and disappeared from view. He returned, opened the rear door, and loaded a long, narrow case.

  I had walked another five feet when he reappeared with a bicycle, mounted the bike to a rack on the rear of the SUV, and climbed into the driver’s seat. I continued to walk, hoping he wouldn’t notice me. He backed out of the drive and zoomed down the street away from me.

  The porch lights came on, front door opened and Derek stepped out. He stood in the courtyard, and looked after the car. He shook his head. The way his shoulders fell in a dejected stance rushed sympathy to my heart.

  Without thinking, I crossed the street and called his name.

  His surprise at the sight of me was obvious in his voice. “Miss Nichols, is that you?”

  I reached out to touch his hand and felt the sparks when my fingers grazed his. What was I doing? I jammed my hands into my sweatshirt pockets. “Yes, I’m sorry, I was having trouble sleeping, so I’m trying to walk off my restlessness. I don’t know how I ended up here . . .” OMG, now I was compounding my idiocy by blabbering like a nervous teenager. And to top it off, I shivered.

  “Are you okay?” Derek asked. “Didn’t you just get out of the hospital?” He looked at the bandage on my head.

  “I’m fine.” I turned away, anxious to get out of this awkward moment. I stumbled.

  Derek’s arm shot across the gate and grabbed my elbow. “I think you should come in. Have some warm milk, and then I’ll drive you home. It’s a bad idea to wander around the city late at night by yourself.”

  “I guess I’m not thinking too clearly yet,” I said.

  “Probably the pain pills,” he said opening the gate, pulling me inside and through the front door. “Kitchen’s this way.”

  I was sorry when he released my arm, but I followed him down the hall and into the modern yet warm room. A book lay open on a wood table in front of a wing chair.

  “Sit.” Derek waved at the other wing chair.

  I sat while he poured milk, sugar, and cinnamon into a mug. The microwave bell rang and he placed the steaming mug on the table in front of me.

  I watched him over the top of the cup. The strength of the attraction I felt for him amazed me. The “what-ifs” rushed into my mind: what if I hadn’t died the night we met? What if I’d been Lian’s mother––? Oh for god’s sake Al. Cut it out.

  He poured milk into a mug and repeated the microwaving. When the bell rang, he sat down in the opposite wing chair and gazed at me through the steam rising from his cup.

  “I can’t shake the idea that we’ve met before. I . . . you feel like, I don’t know, as though I’ve known you for a long time. Comfortable,” Derek said. “And yet there’s a . . . tension.” He shook himself. “Hell, you are very young, I’m going to shut up before I say something inappropriate.”

  “I feel it too.” I raised my eyes to his. “And I’m not that young.”

  He stood. “I’ll get you a jacket. I’m taking you home.” He went into the hall and returned with a down parka. “Here, put this on.”

  Derek motioned me to follow him into the elevator and down to the garage where he opened the door to a Triumph roadster.

  “Where did Lian go?” I asked after I had explained where my parent’s house was.

  “I wish I knew.” Derek shook his head. “I don’t really know what to do with that kid. Nothing seems to work.”

  “Is it drugs?”

  “He has all kinds of problems. Probably all my fault. I wasn’t paying close enough attention when my wife was alive. She was from Florence. Maybe she didn’t understand what was going on well enough. She agreed to the Ritalin, and that proved to be impossible to get him off of without putting him on still another so-called medication. Ah, it’s been a nightmare.” Derek sighed. “I’m sorry. Sorry to go on about my familial problems.”

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” I wanted to hug him, to comfort him. “Does he use street drugs too?”

  “God, I hope not. The combination could be lethal. He doesn’t confide in me no matter how hard I try to be understanding.” Derek looked at me as he turned down the street to my parent’s house. “I’m a shit dad.”

  “At least you try,” I said. We were both silent for a moment. “Can I ask you a question about the Zodiac?”

  Derek nodded.

  “Why do you have the newspaper clippings?”

  “I took them out of Lian’s room. Planned to ask him that question, but haven’t found the right moment. You know, a time when he’ll talk to me rather than just running in and out of the house.”

  “Why would Lian have them? Where did he get them?”

  “I don’t know.” Derek pulled the car to the curb in front of my parent’s house. “It seems unhealthy that he’s so interested.”

  “I can understand why he might be curious, especially if he knows you think his grandfather was the Zodiac,” I said. “My fat
her had clippings and files about Lexi’s murder around when I was a kid. My parents were careful not to talk about it around my brother and me. But we were aware of more than they realized. The way Mom and Dad shut up when we came around made me curious. I wanted to be let in on the grown up secret.”

  “I hope that’s all it is.” Derek reached for the door handle. “Because it scares me.”

  CHAPTER

  46

  Once I got back to bed in the middle of the night, I’d slept much later than I intended. And since no one woke me up, we’d gotten a late start hitting the road.

  “You know, Nancy would be happy to have us for lunch,” Steven said.

  I nodded my agreement. “I’ll give Elliott’s office a call and see what his afternoon schedule looks like.”

  I called 411 and was connected to Elliott’s office. “Mr. Burns is in court today.”

  “Thanks.” I hung up the phone. “He’s in court.”

  “I thought he didn’t litigate. Isn’t he president of a title company?” Steven took his eyes off the highway long enough to see how I was doing.

  “Yeah, must be a lawsuit. I’ll call Nancy,” I said and gave him a reassuring smile.

  “Good. She’ll feed us while we wait for him. And who knows? She might help us to get him to talk,” Steven said as he corrected course to Piedmont instead of Oakland.

  Nancy fed Steven chili while we waited for Elliott to get home. Chili was more spice than my nervous stomach could handle. She made me a cup of tea generously laced with milk.

  “To be honest, I’m glad you’ll be here when he gets home. You’ll force him to be sociable. This case has got him really upset. His company is being sued so it is understandable, but he’s no fun lately. Always worried,” Nancy said as she poured cups of tea.

  I wondered if Elliott was ever fun. If so, it wasn’t any time I was around him. I looked at the Thomas Hill painting of Yosemite Valley that hung above the mantle.