Murder Al Dente

by Nancy Skopin

  I was probably the only one who knew Nina Jezek was still alive. I was sure she’d want to keep it that way, but she needed to save children the way most people need to breathe, and Sky was a child in danger. I knew in my heart that if I could reach Nina, she would help. There was only one possibility I could think of. It was a long shot, but I found the contact number in my cell and pressed the call icon.

  Melinda Tentrees answered on the first ring. “Child Protective Services. How may I help you?”

  “Melinda, it’s Nikki Hunter.”

  There was a brief pause before she responded with, “Oh dear. Do we have another abused child?”

  The only times I’d called Melinda in the past had been when Nina left victims of the pedophiles she’d killed with me.

  “No, nothing like that,” I hastily assured her. “I’m working a kidnapping case. A four-year-old girl. I think she’s being held at a compound in the Woodside Hills, but the place is like a fortress. I need a special kind of help. I was hoping you might have a way of contacting our mutual friend.” I didn’t know if the Child Protective Services’ phones were monitored, but no sense taking chances.

  Melinda was silent for so long that I thought the call might have been dropped.

  Finally she said, “I might know someone who can contact our friend. I’ll look into it and get back to you.”

  “Okay. Thank you. Um, it’s kind of urgent. Sky was kidnapped a week ago.”

  “I understand.”

  Melinda ended the call without another word. I sat there for a minute, considering the fact that Melinda had obviously known I was talking about Nina. Could she be delivering the children she rescued directly to Melinda now? It was a possibility. I was a known associate of Nina’s. She’d even saved my life on more than one occasion. But since everyone thought she was dead, and she changed her appearance as often as I changed my shoes, contacting me was hardly a risk for her. The woman didn’t even have any fingerprints, plus she’d had her face surgically altered. The only giveaways were her height and her chilling blue eyes.

  All I could do now was wait. I hate waiting.

  I went back to the aerial view of the compound on Google Earth. The trees were so dense within the compound that it was impossible to tell if there was only one building in the fenced enclosure. I saw the paved lane leading from La Honda Road into the complex, but there could be alternate entrances or exits that weren’t visible.

  I called Jea and told her I was making progress in terms of tracking Cammie’s activities, but didn’t have conclusive evidence yet that she was the one who had taken Sky. My gut told me Sky was in that compound, but I didn’t have the heart to get Jea’s hopes up just yet. I promised to keep her posted and ended the call, then checked my watch and realized that Bill would probably be home soon. I hoped he’d bring the murder book with him again. I needed the distraction.

  I locked up the office and took Buddy for another walk while thinking about what to make for dinner. I normally spend so many evenings dining on behalf of my clients that I seldom cook for myself, and Bill often grabs a burger on the way home when I’m working. I knew we had a couple of tri-tip steaks in the freezer and the weather was nice enough to barbeque. I mentally inventoried the fresh veggies we had on board. Probably enough for a salad. Problem solved.

  Buddy and I boarded the boat and I took the steaks out of the freezer and set them in the sink in their air-tight packages. I started the hot water running to speed the thawing process. While they soaked in a hot bath, I jumped in the shower to wash off the day.

  I texted Bill shortly after 6:00 asking if he had any idea when he might be home. When I didn’t get a response I assumed he was either on the road, on the phone, or interviewing suspects.

  The meat was softening up nicely, so I mixed up a bowl of lemon juice, olive oil, and Worcestershire sauce to use as marinade. I was shredding Arugula for the salad when my cell phone pinged. It was a short text from Bill saying, “On my way. Need anything for dinner?”

  I responded with, “Just you,” and resumed shredding lettuce.

  I was just placing the nearly thawed tri-tip in the bowl of marinade when I felt the boat rock and Buddy raced up the companionway. He used the pull cord to open the hatch and let himself into the pilothouse. I’ve seen more than a few humans confounded by that hatch release, but my dog mastered it after watching me open it only once. Bill stepped into the pilothouse and tolerated the doggy assault on his person with a huge smile.

  “You want a beer?” I asked as he descended the steps. He had the murder book under his arm. Yay!

  “Oh, God yes,” he said, setting the binder on the counter and wrapping his arms around me.

  I inhaled deeply the scent of warm man and Grey Flannel cologne. Nice.

  “Tough day?” I asked, popping the top off a Corona and handing him the cold bottle.

  Bill took a long swallow before nodding. A grin spread over his beautiful face as he took in the marinating tri-tip and salad.

  “Barbeque?”

  “Yep. Tri-tip.”

  “Great,” he said before swallowing more beer. “Mind if I hit the shower before we eat?”

  “Take your time. I just put the steak in the marinade.” Plus, I needed time alone with the binder.

  I finished making the salad while Bill stripped off his clothes and tossed them in the laundry basket. As soon as I heard the shower running, I grabbed my cell phone and opened the binder. I found the most recent entries and snapped photos of them, quickly closing the binder and leaving it on the counter.

  I sprinkled some lemon juice over the avocados in the salad, covered the bowl, and tucked it in the fridge. Taking out a fork, I prodded the steaks, immersing them in the marinade, then fed Buddy his dinner before going out on deck to light the barbeque coals. Once the flames were out and the coals were red I climbed back down to the galley and grabbed an IPA out of the fridge along with a second Corona for Bill. I left his beer on the galley counter and took my IPA and the steak topside.

  Five minutes later the coals were ready. Buddy had finished his dinner and was eyeing the marinating steaks hungrily. I used tongs to place them on the grill and set the bowl aside. Taking a sip of my beer I let my eyes roam over the marina where I live and work. It’s a thing of beauty. The grounds are gently landscaped so it looks more like a park than a garden. The two-story office buildings are light grey with white trim and, though they’re a few decades old, they’re well maintained. The yachts in this particular marina are also well maintained, making them a pleasure to behold. While we have our share of alcoholic boat dwellers, even they take the time to care for their vessels and brightwork.

  Bill joined me, fresh Corona in hand. He put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a long, slow kiss. I felt the usual thrum of desire at his touch.

  I turned the steak and covered the barbeque, checking my watch. We both like our tri-tip medium rare. Another five minutes and dinner would be ready. Bill watched the grill while I popped downstairs to put the marinade bowl in the sink and grab a platter for the steaks. I handed the platter up to Bill, then put the salad, dressing, dinner plates and silverware on the table.

  Buddy preceded Bill down the companionway, probably hoping to trip the steak-carrying human on his way to the table. We’ve both learned to watch our step when carrying meat around my uber-smart dog. He can swallow a steak in two seconds without even chewing.

  Dinner was quiet, but the food and company were excellent and dessert was even better. I was just dozing off, my head on Bill’s shoulder, when the alarm on my cell phone went off, signaling that someone had breached my office security system. I’d had a perimeter alarm installed last year after one too many break-ins and attempts on my life, but this was the first time it had been triggered. Dammit. I was so comfortable.

  I grabbed the phone and silenced the alarm.

  Bill, who was now half awake, mumbled, “Everything okay?”

  I was pretty sure I knew who had trigg
ered the alarm, so I said, “Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep. It was just a calendar reminder. I forgot to send a report to a client, and I promised they’d have it tonight. Be right back.”

  I threw on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, tucked my Ruger into my waistband, and stepped into my boat shoes. Grabbing my keys, I ascended the companionway as quietly as possible.

  CHAPTER 18

  I peered through the glass walls into my dark office and saw no movement whatsoever. I tested the door and found it locked, so I inserted my key, drew the Ruger, and pushed the door open with my foot. Stepping inside I straight-armed the gun in front of me and flicked on the overhead lights. I quickly scanned the perimeter of the office and in three long strides verified that the kitchen area was unoccupied.

  I was about to move down the hallway toward the bathroom when a cranky female voice said, “For shit’s sake, Hunter. Turn off the damn lights.”

  I’d know that voice anywhere. “Nina?”

  “Who else? Lights?”

  I tucked the Ruger back into my waistband before returning to the front of the office where I locked the door and turned off the overhead lights.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said, looking down the dark hallway as a shadow stepped out of the bathroom. Nina is five-foot-eight and slender. Tonight she was dressed all in black. The last time I’d seen her she’d had short dark hair and brown contact lenses to disguise her naturally blue eyes. Tonight her hair was curly, shoulder length, and in the dim light it looked silver. I couldn’t see her eyes well enough to determine the present color.

  “You want coffee?” I asked, moving back to the kitchenette.

  “Sure.” Nina followed and stayed my hand when I reached for the light switch. “Can you make it in the dark?”

  “I suppose.” There was enough ambient light from the outdoor flood lights to see what I was doing. “But don’t you think you’re being melodramatic? Nobody knows you’re here.”

  “I’d like to keep it that way.”

  I took a bag of Kona grounds out of the freezer and measured some into my Krups coffee maker. I filled the reservoir with water, pressed the brew button, and turned to face Nina. “How did you do it?” I asked.

  “What?”

  Now that I was closer to her I could see that her eyes were a lovely chocolate brown tonight.

  “The explosion. You’d barely gone in the door when Maurus’s house blew up.”

  “Skateboard,” she said. “Plus, I had a remote control detonator. I didn’t trigger the bomb until I was out the side door and halfway across the yard.”

  “Clever. I’m glad you’re not dead.”

  “Whatever. So you’re working a kidnapping case?”

  Just like Nina. Straight to the point. I filled two mugs with coffee and handed one to her.

  “Milk?”

  “Black is good. Tell me about the kidnapping.”

  I added a splash of milk to my cup before taking a sip.

  “Her name is Sky Solomon. She’s four years old. She was taken from the preschool she attends in Palo Alto last Tuesday morning. One of the other children saw the woman who took her and identified her from a photo array as Camilla Sutcliffe. She’s the nurse who assisted with Sky’s birth.”

  “Why would she kidnap Sky?”

  “It’s complicated, and I need to get back to the boat before Bill wakes up and notices how long I’ve been gone.”

  “You’re living together now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “I tracked Camilla to a compound in the Woodside Hills. The place is like a fortress. It’s totally fenced in, razor wire on top of chain link, with cameras everywhere. I’m pretty sure that’s where they’re holding Sky, but I don’t have the equipment or the skill to breach their security.”

  “And that’s where I come in.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Do you have an address for this compound?”

  I turned on my computer and called up the Google Earth search I’d done earlier in the day. I gave Nina the GPS coordinates, pointing out the paved lane exiting off La Honda Road.

  “I’ll take a look at the place and get back to you.”

  “Thanks, Nina.”

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  “I hate it when people say that.”

  “Just one question,” Nina said, as she returned to the kitchenette and placed her empty cup in the sink. “Do you have reason to believe this Camilla person, or her associates, have harmed Sky in any way?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “If anyone has harmed that child, you will not stop me from taking action.”

  “You mean lethal action.”

  Nina nodded once and headed for the door. I followed to unlock it for her. The violation of innocence is Nina’s trigger. All but one of her targets had been sexual predators who assaulted children. To date, she’s killed twenty-six child molesters that I know of. I had no doubt that if Sky had been harmed in any way by her captors, Nina would kill again.

  “You’ll contact me when you have a plan for breaching their perimeter?” I asked as she slipped out the door.

  Again, she simply nodded before disappearing into the night. She hadn’t asked for my cell number, so I assumed Melinda had given it to her.

  I turned off the coffee maker and rinsed out both mugs, then shut down the computer, locked up the office, and made my way back down to the docks. I knew I wasn’t likely to get any sleep tonight and it wasn’t the coffee that would be keeping me awake. Asking Nina to help rescue a child was one thing, but being a party to one of her murderous rampages was something else entirely.

  CHAPTER 19

  Bill was sound asleep when I climbed back into bed. Buddy opened one eye to check on me, then recommenced snoring softly. I rested my head on the pillow and laid my hand on Buddy’s soft neck, closing my eyes in the hope that sleep would come. The next thing I knew the alarm was sounding. Although my alarm clock is a Dream Machine, and the sound is a CD of Bill playing acoustic guitar, I still woke with a start, surprised that I’d been asleep for at least five hours.

  I turned the music off and climbed out of bed, used the head and brushed my teeth, then pulled on shorts and a tee shirt and hooked Buddy’s leash to his collar.

  As we climbed the companionway, I called out to Bill, who was still in bed, “Can you make coffee, please?”

  All I received in response was an offended grunt.

  Buddy and I made the rounds of trees and bushes, and I dutifully bagged up his offerings before tossing them into a dumpster and heading back down to the boat. It was a beautiful summer day, but all I could think about was Sky. Was she even still alive? If there was any truth to Loretta’s theory, it could go either way. If the individuals who had taken her realized she couldn’t be controlled, they might decide their world would be safer without her in it.

  After coffee, breakfast, and a trip to the gym, Buddy and I settled in at the office where I uploaded my latest photos from Chet’s murder book. I enlarged and printed the pages before reading them.

  The newest notes from the binder indicated that Bill had spoken with both Chet’s attorney and his insurance agent and that they had confirmed having conversations with Chet on Thursday of last week. He’d also met with his attorney briefly to sign the updated version of his will. He had actually left his fortune to the Humane Society. Amazing. I wondered if he’d taken my advice and called Vanessa to tell her she was no longer his beneficiary. I scanned through the photos I’d taken previously of the murder book. If Bill had evidence that Chet had called Vanessa, he hadn’t made a note of it.

  I continued reading the latest entries and found that Bill had used the tracking app on Chet’s cell to locate the missing Zodiac. The dinghy had been found tied to one of the guest docks at Cooke’s Harbor, not far from where Chet’s yacht had been anchored out in Westpoint Slough
. Bill had noted the GPS location so, once again, I pulled up Google Earth and plugged in the coordinates.

  Starting with an aerial view of Cooke’s Harbor I slowly zoomed in on the guest dock in question and saw that it was behind the yacht club, also known as “The Club at Cooke’s.” With any luck the club had been open when the dinghy had been docked and I might find a patron who’d seen who tied it up there. Barring that, it was possible the yacht club had security cameras that might have picked something up.

  Bill had retrieved the Zodiac and had it dusted for prints and trace evidence. While Vanessa’s prints had been found, she was Chet’s ex-wife, so that, alone, wasn’t incriminating. The forensic team had also found a few smudges on one side of the dinghy, which turned out to be blood, the same type as Chet’s, but the samples they were able to collect had been contaminated by salt water spray, so it was unlikely they’d be able to get a DNA match.

  I Googled the yacht club and discovered they were only open 9:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. Sunday through Thursday, and only until 9:00 p.m. on Friday and Saturday. I found that odd, since most yacht clubs are party central on weekends. Unless I happened to run into someone who was out walking their dog in the middle of the night, it would be cameras or nothing.

  I left Buddy with D’Artagnon and drove to Cooke’s Harbor. The yacht club was a two-story brick-red building with a green roof, part of a huge marina complex on Cooke’s Harbor Drive in Redwood City. I parked in the visitors’ lot and climbed the steps to the open front doors. I found a restaurant area with a few patrons having a late breakfast, a deserted lounge area, and, eventually, an office.

  I knocked on the closed office door and waited. After a few moments a young man dressed in sailing gear answered. He was about my height, with short brown hair and a small hoop earring in his right lobe. An attempt at a mustache perched optimistically on his upper lip. His eyes were the only remarkable thing about him. They were turquoise.