by Lisa Jackson
Court had paid all their bills online, but he’d been a stickler for keeping paper records, thank heavens, and he’d actually made a list of passwords, which he’d taped to the inside of one of the bottom drawers of the desk. Looking over that list, she accessed the Internet and clicked her way to their joint bank account. She’d seen paper statements sporadically; Court had never deigned to go green and well, there’d been nothing “eco-friendly” about him, but she’d never seen all of their accounts together on one screen before.
All six of their accounts, she thought, counting them up and beginning to feel slightly ill. None of them had more than a couple hundred dollars, and most were closer to a zero balance. She looked at recent payments made and saw there were hefty chunks paid to Court’s credit cards. She stared at the screen for a long time. As she scrolled through the last few months of online statements, she realized he’d been paying for his affair on credit, which had grown increasingly expensive. And he’d been sending the statements to his office.
His office . . .
For the most part, his coworkers had stayed away from her at the funeral. She’d recognized only a few of them anyway, so it hadn’t seemed strange. Of course, she realized that some of them could have known more about his private affairs than she did. In fact, that was a pretty good guess.
Not that it mattered anymore.
Several of the bills next to her computer were close to past due. She paid the ones she could via the Internet. She’d always run their household on the money Court had transferred from his account to their joint account, but unless there was cash in some other bank, she was close to destitute.
She did know how much they owed on the house, and though it was enough to make her stomach tremble, she also knew the house was worth far more than the mortgage. She just had to sell quickly as the bill collectors were going to be at her door.
As for life insurance, she hadn’t known Court to carry any. A quick look through the filing cabinet again revealed no policies, of course. During their marriage, they’d never discussed the need for insurance on his life. Or hers, for that matter. She’d have to rethink that, for Chloe’s sake.
Not having a huge life insurance policy had one good side, at least as far as the police were involved. Without the big financial win from Court’s demise, there was less of a motive for his wife to have killed him.
Oh. Dear. God.
She stared at the stack of unpaid bills that remained and wondered how she could possibly pay them before the house sold. Impossible with the money in their accounts. Just trying to figure out how to get by in the next month or two made her head hurt.
“Maybe I can wish him back alive,” she said on a half laugh, half sob.
Except she didn’t want him back. Not now . . . not ever. She was sorry he was dead, but she wasn’t sorry he was out of her life, out of her daughter’s life. In truth, he was a lousy husband and even worse father.
Fate or whatever or whoever had killed him, had done her a favor.
The room was quiet and dark with only the diffused dot of the tension lamp illuminating the vellum stationery. The hand clutching the pen was taut, squeezing.
Emotion. Too much emotion.
Calm down.
Breathe deeply.
Let go . . .
Finally, the pressure was released until the pen was held in a manner that allowed the words to be written. Important words.
Elizabeth,
It’s all for you. Do you understand yet? I’ve been hiding my feelings for so long, but now finally, I can let you know. I’m sick, you see. Sick with love for you. Heartsick. Soul sick. I’m going to give you everything you desire. I am your slave, your genie in a bottle. Command me, and I will deliver. I grow stronger because of you. You don’t see me yet. I’m just a flicker in the corner of your eye. But you’ll see me soon, my love. Very, very soon.
Chapter 13
It took longer than expected to find the trail that led to Ralph and Joy Gaines of Sausalito and then, supposedly, to Santa Monica. Rex had searched public records and finally found a business license in Costa Mesa registered to Ralph and Joy Gaines for an independent insurance agency, formerly Gaines-Connett, now Harper Insurance Agency.
Well, that’s convenient, since I live here, Rex thought as he stood in his kitchen and sipped his first cup of coffee.
Further investigation was just a matter of showing up and asking the right questions. As far as a residence, however, he’d struck out. A number of Ralph Gaineses were listed throughout Southern California, but Rex couldn’t find anyone associated with a woman named Joy.
Staring out the sliding door of his two-bedroom house, he watched as a robin hopped through the damp grass, pecking as it made its way across his lawn.
Ralph and Joy could have divorced or she could have died. Those records would be easily located and confirmed.
He thought about whether to give Ravinia the information on the phone, meet her in person, or make a trip on Monday to the insurance agency by himself before actually contacting her. He commuted from Costa Mesa to his office in Los Angeles three times a week on an average, depending upon where a case led him. Of course, he could live closer to his business but had found it didn’t really matter where he called home; he was contacted by people from all over the southern half of the state. Sometimes northern, too, and that covered a lot of territory.
The question was, did he really want to report to Ravinia yet? They had paperwork to complete, and he knew better than to start working on a case before he had a contract in hand. A couple deadbeats had taught him that lesson long ago. Still, he felt like going against his instincts and calling her, which made him shake his head at himself. That damn girl made him feel like he’d fallen down the rabbit hole.
And she also got your juices flowing, didn’t she? About the case? As bizarre as it sounds, it’s more interesting than following Kim Cochran around.
His cell phone rang and he eagerly snatched it up until he saw Pamela’s number. For half a second he considered not answering it. Chickenshit, he told himself and made a point of saying with false cheer, “Good morning.”
“Hey, there, handsome,” she greeted him. “What do you want to do first? Breakfast? Or, I could come over to your place and we could start in bed?”
The day with Pamela. He’d promised it and promised it and here it was. Inwardly he groaned, then realized spending time with her shouldn’t feel like such an obligation.
There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s fun, energetic, fairly optimistic, attractive, and smart. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her. What do you want? The earth to move every time you’re together?
He caved. “How about I pick you up and we do breakfast? I want to drive by a business off Seventeenth, then we can go to that place you like.”
“The Breakfast Plate.”
“That’s it,” he said, making note of her cool tone.
“Well, okay as long as it’s the only work-related thing of the day.”
The steel behind the words gave him pause. “There could be one more thing,” he tried, thinking of Ravinia. He knew he should leave well enough alone but couldn’t help himself.
“No more things, Joel,” she insisted. “No more things. Today’s just for us.”
He felt himself grimace. Yes, Joel was his name, but he never used it. He didn’t think of himself as a Joel, but Pamela had glommed onto it as if it made some kind of difference. “You know my job’s not a nine-to-fiver.”
“All I want is today. One Sunday. Can’t you give me that?”
Why did it feel like a noose was tightening around his neck? From the corner of his eye, he caught movement out the window, a flutter of feathers as the robin pounced, snapping up the worm and flying into the low-hanging branches of a tree. “I’ll try,” he said into the phone, already knowing that it was a lie.
Looking like she just rolled out of bed, Misty came over to the house about eleven o’clock. Slipping her cell p
hone into the front pocket of her jeans, she eyed Chloe warily as if she knew just how much the little girl had complained about her babysitting skills.
Elizabeth half-expected Chloe to reprimand Misty, but her daughter had seemingly forgotten, or at least chosen to ignore her own pique at the teenager. In fact, Chloe ran to Misty as soon as she entered and dragged the reluctant teenager to the kitchen table where diamonds, stars, and circles cut from colored paper were in abundance. Chloe had been working to make some kind of collage.
“Hi,” Elizabeth said, already scooping up her purse and a jacket.
Misty nodded to her as she tried to feign interest in Chloe’s art.
With a glance at the clock, Elizabeth said, “Lunch stuff is in the fridge. Fruit, cheese and there’s always peanut butter sandwiches. I’ve got to get a move on.” She hugged Chloe who barely noticed. “Be good. Love you.” To Misty, she said, “I’ll be back by around four thirty.”
Scrounging in her purse for her keys, Elizabeth was walking to the back door when Misty called after her, “Can you make it back on time today?”
Elizabeth paused, keys dangling from her fingers. First on her agenda was a quick meeting with Marg and Buddy. Marg wanted to see one more house and that was about all Elizabeth could manage before she was scheduled for an open house from one to four.
Misty said, “I’ve got semester finals coming up.”
“Sure. Of course,” Elizabeth said positively. “Yes. The open house ends at four and I’ll come straight back.”
“Good.” Misty turned her attention back to Chloe and the art project.
On her way out, Elizabeth checked her cell phone and saw a text from Barbara who was just letting her know she’d made it home. Elizabeth felt a moment’s relief as she walked into the garage. See? Being angry at Barbara didn’t bring her any harm.
For a moment Elizabeth felt a little foolish. You didn’t really think you brought about Court’s death, did you? Seriously?
“And Mazie’s . . . and Officer Unfriendly’s . . .” she muttered as she climbed into her car and switched on the ignition, then pulled out.
Those were aberrations. Nothing to do with you.
She headed out of the neighborhood toward the office.
And what about the precognition with Little Nate? What was that all about?
With a glance in her rearview, she caught the worry in her eyes. “Not today,” she told herself. “Not today.”
With an effort, she pushed aside all her guilty thoughts and snapped on the radio to drown out the nagging voice in her head. She wheeled into Suncrest Realty, parked, and hurried inside. To her surprise, Jade was seated in a chair near the circular desk, where, as usual, Pat was sitting, headset in place, fingers poised over a keyboard but not typing.
“Hey, there. What brings you here?” Elizabeth greeted Jade warmly.
Pat, as always, was avidly listening in and pretending to be busy. Her interest in everyone else’s business was beyond annoying.
Inwardly, Elizabeth groaned, but she ignored her for the moment.
Jade flashed a quick smile. “Hi.” The deep green sweater she wore looked great against her dark skin, her belly bump protruding. She sighed and apologized. “Sorry I missed last night. Things have just been crazy.”
“Tell me about it. And anyway, you’re pregnant. Everything feels kind of crazy at the end.”
“I know, but seeing everyone at Vivian’s would have been fun.” Jade’s dark eyes were sober. “So how’re you doing, girl? I wanted to say more at the service, but . . . you seemed kind of like you wanted to just not talk.”
“You read that right.” Elizabeth turned her back to the reception desk, hoping that Pat wouldn’t overhear. “I was . . . in a fog . . . a state of disbelief. I still am, I guess, but I’m okay.” Of course, the last statement was a lie and even sounded false to her own ears.
“You can’t be.” Jade shook her head, hooped earrings catching in the light. “When things like this happen—”
“Yeah, I know. It’s weird having Court gone,” Elizabeth admitted, a shiver feathering down her spine. “But anyway, what are you doing here?”
“I’m just squeezing out some time this morning for myself, you know? Byron’s taking care of Nate to give me a little time to myself.”
“Want to come back to my office? I’ve got some clients coming in soon, but they’re not here yet.” Elizabeth pointed to the hallway.
Jade waved the offer away. “I should have known you’d have clients. I talked to Deirdre and she told me you said you were coming in around eleven today. I just thought I’d drop in and just say hi, and see how you were.” Again she grinned. “You look fabulous, by the way.”
“That’s a joke.”
“No, seriously. You look great. But you always do.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She felt as if she’d been through the wringer backward and forward. “You’re a liar, but thanks.”
“I hoped we’d have time for coffee, you know but no big deal. Another time.”
“Maybe later?” Elizabeth said. “I’ve got an open house in University Park, but if you’re around, maybe . . . ?”
“Don’t I wish.” Jade grinned again, showing a dimple. “I’ve barely been gone an hour and Byron’s texted me twice. I swear that man is helpless when it comes to taking care of his own child. Wait till this one gets here.” She dropped a hand to her rounded belly and patted it gently.
“The Sorensons just pulled up,” Pat announced loudly from her desk, then sent Elizabeth a quick, admonishing glare.
“Another time. It’s a date!” Jade got to her feet and headed toward the door. “Oh, by the way, Deirdre told me about GoodGuy.” Elizabeth felt her muscles tighten as Jade went on, “You know, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that license plate at Fitness Now!, too, but, really, Elizabeth, you can’t let some jerk force you into giving up your membership. I mean it. I need to get this body back in shape as soon as Abercrombie shows up, and you need to be there.”
“Abercrombie?”
“Or Fitch,” Jade said, “depending on how I feel.”
Elizabeth chuckled.
“You’re not quitting,” Jade insisted again. “There are too many bad guys with road rage just like GoodGuy.”
“He’s not the reason I’m quitting the club,” Elizabeth assured her as they walked outside together. “It’s more a matter of... getting my finances in order.”
“Oh, honey.” Jade hugged Elizabeth, who felt a sting of tears that she fought back.
As her friend walked toward her car, she pulled herself together and went to meet Buddy and Marg.
The morning crawled on and by eleven thirty Rex had lost all interest in trying to appease Pamela. Somehow he’d made it through breakfast and had ended up at her condo for a quick regrouping, but already, the day was stretching long. The problem was, Pam didn’t appear to be happy unless he was showering her with attention, and keeping up the pretense was not only exhausting but out of character for him. He’d never been the type to pretend interest or fawn over a woman.
He had to break it off with Pam; he knew it and had been considering how to end the relationship for a while, but until today it hadn’t been so painfully obvious that they were wrong for each other. Once Ravinia, odd kid that she was, had shown up, his interest in his work, in his damn life had picked up. He wanted to help her, to find out more about this outré fantasy, sort fact from fiction. For the first time in months, he was jazzed about a case, interested in the twists and strange turns, even if they were all in Ravinia’s head. She was a little wily, had a few street-smarts, and was certainly bullheaded, but she was refreshingly sincere and guileless in her own way. She intrigued him, was a mystery, and he wanted to help her.
Probably put me under her damn spell, he thought with a glance down the hallway to the closed bathroom door where Pamela was freshening up.
Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he leaned a hip against her kitchen counter and star
ted searching Web databases. His thumbs flew over the keypad in his search for Ralph and Joy Gaines, all the while expecting Pam to return and, no doubt, voice her disapproval.
Yeah, the relationship wasn’t working.
Pamela wanted to go for a long walk on the beach while Rex felt an urgency to keep working on finding more about Ravinia’s cousin’s family.
When his cell buzzed in his hands, he shot a glance at the number, saw it was Dorell Cochran, and ignored the little bit of disappointment that it wasn’t Ravinia. “Hello, Dorell,” he said, as Pamela came out of the bathroom and stopped short, frowning and shaking her head at him.
God, she is a pain.
Turning his back to her unhappy glare, Rex listened to Cochran tell him all about what he already knew—that he’d met his wife at the Ivy.
Undeterred, sandals slapping the floor in loud annoyance, Pamela came around to face him, arms crossed, wedging herself between Rex and the slider to her deck. The pissy look on her face prickled him a bit, but he didn’t hang up. With Pamela listening in, he didn’t feel like explaining to Dorell that he’d seen his client when he’d been following his wife, so he wrapped up the conversation. “I’ll call you later,” he told the man before switching off.
Pamela held out her hand. “If we’re going to have a day together, maybe you’d better give me your phone.”
Really?
Rex actually laughed. “Forget it.”
“What is it going to take to get your complete attention?” she whined.
“You’ve got as much of me as I can give. This is how I work. You know that.”
“Every goddamn day? Can’t you take even one blessed day off?” she demanded, then crawled her fingers up his arms in some kind of sexual foreplay meant to dispel the argument.
The ploy didn’t work. “I’ve got a couple jobs that need tending to. They don’t care that you want an uninterrupted day.”
“The point is, you could give me a day, if you really wanted to. You just don’t want to.”