by Anna Burke
“There’s not just something missing, but something that shouldn’t be there. Mira,” Bernadette said, as she pointed. They all leaned in close again. “See that smear on the shiny back of the crucifix? What does that look like to you, Frank?”
“It’s hard to tell, but it could be blood, and maybe a partial fingerprint.” Frank answered after another few moments. “I will call this in to Hernandez. Somebody needs to pick up this car and go over it much more if this turns out to be blood.”
“That's totally spooky. How did blood get on a crucifix?” Brien asked. “Whose blood is it? Not the 'Big Kahuna's, right? Can you pick up any vibes from holding it, Bernadette? Using your powers,” he asked.
“Ay, Dios mìo, Brien. If by Big Kahuna you mean Jesus, the answer is no. Stop with all the questions—and the spooky stuff.” Bernadette crossed herself like she was trying to ward off something evil.
“The lab will have to tell us if it’s blood, and whose it is. I don’t suppose Libby or her mother said anything about who owned that rosary, Jessica?” Frank asked.
“No. Libby’s mom didn't know why she was talking about a rosary. She doesn’t think Libby’s been a practicing Catholic in a long time. Libby was so insistent on the need to find it. Maybe it belonged to Shannon Donnelly and that blood is hers. Not a pleasant thought. I can’t come up with a good scenario to explain a broken rosary with a bloody crucifix. Can you, Frank?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. But, it’s probably not a good thing. Maybe the lab can get something from that fingerprint.” Frank sighed as he picked up the items.
“I guess we’ve done all we can here. It’s time to go upstairs and see if that suitcase is in the condo,” Jessica said, getting an anxious little tickle of doom as they stood in the low light of the parking garage.
“Give me a minute to put all of these items in the evidence container in my trunk. Jessica, will you lock up the car as soon as I get it all closed up again?”
“Sure, Frank.” She used the key fob to lock the car and set the car alarm, still pondering the significance of that rosary. What was it doing in Libby’s car? They had DNA samples, already, from both Libby and Shannon, so it would be straightforward to find out if the blood belonged to one of them. Jessica felt a wave of foreboding about the Donnelly's missing daughter.
“Okay, where’s that key to the condo?” Frank asked. Jessica handed him the key and let him lead the way to the elevator.
“Top floor, Frank,” Jessica said, before he could ask. “Condo number 480. I suppose you should have all the keys,” Jessica added, handing him the key to the car and the small key to Libby’s mailbox.
“Thanks, Jessica, we should collect her mail and haul that back to the Sheriff’s department. Just in case there’s something in it that Dad’s guys or Hernandez can use.”
When they entered the condo after a silent ride in the elevator, Jessica's dark mood lifted. High ceilings and an open floor plan gave the space a bright and airy feeling. The stylish contemporary décor was in keeping with the architecture of the condo complex. Sleek marble flooring and other pricey finishes were everywhere. Upscale kitchen appliances looked brand new. Jessica guessed the two wealthy young women who lived in the place didn't cook for themselves. There was nothing in the fridge except yogurt and a variety of supplements. Built along a busy street, the complex did not sit on the beach, but across the road from it. A corner unit, the views from a bank of windows and sliding doors were spectacular. A spacious deck provided plenty of room for entertaining or taking in the view.
“Whoa, this is awesome,” Brien exclaimed. “I could totally live here. That patio is big enough to stash my surfboard and my bicycle.”
“I bet it is, Brien. Libby had to be upset about losing a place like this,” Peter said.
“Didn’t her parents buy this place for her, Jessica?”
“Yes, Frank, but the taxes and homeowners fees must be several thousand a month. Even with Shannon Donnelly sharing the expenses, Libby might have been in trouble when that trust ended and with no job.”
“Well that gives her a motive for trying to get money out of her parents, that’s for sure. Money from her uncle would have come in handy too.”
“I remember her parents talking with her about selling it and helping her downsize to something more affordable. That was right before Libby made those awful allegations. Mind you, they weren’t talking about cutting her off when her trust ended. They were trying to come up with something that would work for her longer term, since she had made little headway on education and a career during her probation.”
“It would be hard to give up this lifestyle and settle for something less. Even scaling down might mean working for a living—not something she looked forward to, I imagine,” Peter commented.
“You wouldn’t think that would turn her into a raging monster toward her parents, but what do I know?”
“Disturbed and unhappy women will resort to desperate measures, Jessica. Look at what happened to Kelly.” Frank had a sad look on his face. Jessica reached up and touched his face.
“Frank, trust me, I get it,” Jessica said. Look at my own mother, she thought, as she removed her hand. A wave of anxiety hit as she considered the desperate and unhappy woman waiting for her in another spot along the gorgeous So-Cal coastline. She glanced at Bernadette, who must have guessed what she was thinking.
“Sometimes they get help when they’re desperate,” Bernadette said in a reassuring way.
“That’s true, thank God. In this case, Libby and Shannon were trying to do that when they met up with Dr. Demento. That makes me so pissed.”
“Well, she wasn’t completely sucked in by the guy if she kept items to blackmail him. Let’s see if we can find that suitcase and throw some light on what he did.”
They spent the next hour going through Libby’s condo. No blue suitcase could be found anywhere in the condo. Jessica was sore, although she had been on light duty, mostly watching as the others snooped. They had divided up, searching each room. Peter and Brien on one team, with Frank and Bernadette on the other. Peter had even given Brien a boost so he could check out the attic. Nothing! Jessica was about to call it quits when something Brien had said got her to thinking.
“Brien, where do you keep your surfboard? You don’t have a patio—not like this one anyway.”
“Even if I did, I’m on the first floor so someone could walk off with it. My apartment is small, or I’d keep it inside.”
“Okay, so where?” She didn’t wait for him to answer before getting up and heading into the kitchen. She had seen a small key taped in place inside one of the drawers.
“I have a storage space at the complex, that’s...” before he could finish, Jessica interrupted him as she pulled the key free from the tape.
“Peter can you call the security guys you spoke to when we first arrived and ask if there’s a storage area available to condo owners?”
“I’m on it, Jessica,” he said, dialing as he spoke.
“They say yes, Jessica. It’s down on the same level near the parking garage. You need a key and each home owner has an assigned compartment. The one associated with this unit is...”
“D-8,” Jessica called out, holding up the key as she headed for the door.
“Bingo,” Bernadette hollered. Jessica took a quick look around, making sure they were leaving Libby’s lovely home the way they had found it. Not that it was likely to be her home again, given the latest news from the ICU. Depending on what they learned about Shannon Donnelly’s fate, even if Libby made it out of the ICU functional enough to live on her own, she might be moving to new accommodations. courtesy of the criminal justice system.
Energized by a surge of hope, they headed back down to the lower level. Using the directions given to Peter, they found the storage area. Frank insisted that they go back into evidence collection mode, having Peter snap photos of the area as he donned a pair of gloves. Almost as soon as the door opened, the
y spotted it. A small blue suitcase—part of a matched set stashed away in the walk-in storage area.
Peter snapped away and then Frank picked up the suitcase and set it on top of the largest piece of luggage in the set. As soon as he opened it they all gasped.
“Eww,” Jessica said.
23 A Familiar Face
Even surrounded by luxury and beauty, lunch was less pleasant than it might have been, although illuminating. Their group sat poolside with gorgeous blue skies overhead, tall palms swaying, and cheery sounds of resort goers. The iconic hotel held a lot of nostalgia for Jessica, not because of the Julia Roberts movie, but because she had been there, many times, with her mother. After Alexis divorced Hank, she and Jessica stayed at the hotel for spa treatments, shopping and gadding about town. Often one or two of Alexis’ cronies joined them for part of the day, and Jessica brought friends too. Laura was with her today, but no Kelly, no Mom.
All of that history intersected, at oddly disorienting angles, with the latest calamity, courtesy of another troubled young woman, hurtling toward self-annihilation. Jessica was awash in a sea of angst and dread, and put off food after getting a look at the contents of that suitcase. It did nothing to dampen Brien’s appetite, so they ordered drinks and appetizers. Jessica could have used a stiff shot of whiskey or something, but couldn't because of the meds she was on. A blast from the past hit Jessica broadside: her mother, and one or more of her friends, putting away cocktails with lunch. Even as an adult, I’d be under the table if I tried to keep up with them, she thought, remembering all those diamond rings flashing as they clinked glasses.
The contents of the little blue bag were what Jessica had expected, except worse. Prepared to find a dress, like the one Monica Lewinsky had kept as a souvenir of her tryst with Clinton, what they found was more like preparations for a mini-exhibit at a freak show. The disturbed young woman had packaged and preserved a variety of items, including used condoms and underpants—his and hers, all sealed in baggies labeled with dates, times, locations. A small shock of white hair and nail clippings were in bags with stickers reading “Dr. Dick,” along with the graphic details of how she had obtained them. Swabs of who knows what were sealed and marked—Jessica did not ask Frank for details as he went through the bag’s contents, setting out each grotesque item for Jerry to photograph. There were also several small jars containing what Jessica and Frank surmised to be a preservative. The whiff Jessica got when they first opened that case conjured up a rush of old images from biology 101 labs: formaldehyde. What was floating in the containers required further speculation that Jessica had no desire to make. She would leave that to the crime lab where Frank planned to take all the items as soon as their debriefing was over.
“I’ve already called Detective Hernandez and reported what we’ve found—in the condo and the storage unit. Hernandez is getting a warrant to have Libby’s car impounded, presuming the spot on the rosary is blood. He’s laying odds it’s more likely to be Shannon Donnelly’s blood than Libby’s, but we’ll have to wait for the lab results.”
He glanced at Jessica, who was still feeling a little green around the gills as she sipped diet Coke to settle her stomach. The sips fell into a pit she recognized from previous visits to the land of ‘dirt bags and the misguided women who loved them’. She included herself as one of them, having fallen for a dirt bag of her very own. She tried not to block Frank out as he ran through the list of oddities found in Libby's little bag of horrors, to inform the team that had gone to Dr. Carr’s home and office instead of the condo.
“That girl has watched way too many episodes of CSI,” Kim said.
“Well, what has Hernandez on the move are several labeled ‘Shannon Donnelly’. Some suspicious-looking items for sure—bloody tissue, several blond hairs, and a bag containing a small amount of sand and gravel. Each marked, not only with Shannon’s name, but with the phrase: ‘Dr. Dick’s Mercedes.’ The license plate number was included, and items were dated the day after Shannon disappeared.”
“Oh my God, Shannon must have met up with Carr after that fight in the parking lot. And if Libby went through his car on the date she claims, she must have seen Carr, too. Did she tell the police?” Tommy asked.
“Not a word. Mind you, she lawyered up quick. I doubt Hernandez even asked Libby about Carr, since her shrink wasn't in the picture that early in the investigation. It was another day or two before they found out both women had called him the night Shannon disappeared. Carr acknowledged he received the calls, but didn't tell the police he saw either woman. I bet he picked Shannon up from the parking lot that night, but who knows what happened next? Why didn't Libby tell me any of that, if Carr picked up Shannon or she hooked up with Carr soon after? I do not get it.”
“Their brains don’t work like ours, Jessica. Call it mental illness or bad judgment if you like, but in my experience folks who get mixed up with the Dr. Carrs of the world are concerned more about the wrong he’s done to them than to others. Concern about what happened to her friend is almost an afterthought. At least Libby expressed some remorse about Shannon Donnelly’s fate, although we don’t yet know what that is.”
“Well, Frank, Libby stated flat out, at one point, that Shannon Donnelly is dead. I presume she knows more than she was willing to reveal in the midst of her meltdown. Still, as angry as she was with Dr. Dick, you’d expect she’d be delighted to pin murder on him if she had the evidence. Why simply rat him out for sexual indiscretion?”
“Unless, no matter what she claims with the tags on those baggies, what she's doing is cleaning up after herself, Jessica. All we have is her word for it that the items came from Carr’s auto. The license plate number is no real proof. What if it’s an effort to frame Carr?”
"That would have required more organization than Libby was capable of, right?” Laura asked. “I mean, she was drunk when Shannon went missing. I could imagine Libby lashing out and killing Shannon in that condition, but frame her shrink? I doubt it.”
“Hey, you know what they say, don’t you? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. She had it in for the guy, so that could have helped her focus.” They all stopped talking and stared at Brien. He was trying to fish the maraschino cherry out of the bottom of his glass. As they watched, he put down the straw he had been using and upended the glass. He got his wish as the maraschino cherry fell, along with a face full of ice.
“Brien has a point, no matter how big a fool he’s making of himself,” Bernadette offered. Brien, who was cleaning himself off, stopped putting errant ice cubes back into his glass and spoke.
“Give a guy a break, will you? I’m starving. If they had brought me my nachos already, I wouldn’t have had to do that.” Bernadette ignored him as she picked up where she had left off.
“Killing Shannon and making it look like her shrink did it would be a way to get back at both of them. That doesn’t mean she’s any good at it. Anger and revenge can only get you so far—could be just far enough to get you into more trouble.”
“That’s for sure, Bernadette. Revenge is right up there with sex and money as a motive for murder. Maybe, you’re all right. This could be more about cleaning up after herself, by pinning it on Carr as an afterthought, rather than a premeditated plan. She roused herself out of a coma, Jessica, to lead you to that suitcase, even if she didn’t disclose all its contents,” Frank said.
“When it comes to masterminding a murder, the narcissistic psychiatrist is a better fit,” Jerry asserted. “If Libby was on to him, it would sure help explain why he was intent on killing her. If he assumed she told you about Shannon’s murder, that would explain why he decided to get rid of you, Jessica.”
“There’s no sign Libby returned to Cathedral City after taking a cab back to the resort. I suppose Carr could have helped clean up after her that night. Or maybe she went through his car to collect evidence of his involvement, to use as blackmail. But, your idea about the shrink being more suited to murder makes sense, I guess,” Jessica
said.
“About as much sense as murder ever makes,” Frank said, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Once you’ve crossed that line and killed, there’s a sordid logic to killing again to cover it up by going after you and Libby.”
“Don’t forget about Carr’s associate, the ‘red devil', behind the effort to kill Libby before she could come out of her coma. Maybe he’s Shannon’s killer, too. Despite her disorganized thinking and bizarre behavior, Libby must know something. It can’t just be about Carr’s dirty work because he’s dead, so why kill Libby?” Laura asked. The group fell silent as several servers swept down on them with appetizers and refills of their drinks.
“Okay, I can’t answer that, Laura. I guess that brings us to team two. What’s your story?” Jessica asked. Now that food had appeared, she was glad to end the discussion about the suitcase and its contents.
“I’ve already given Frank a quick heads up so he could call it in to Hernandez. The good news is that we already have the doctor’s Mercedes in impound. My guy hauled it from the tramway parking lot the day he died. Hernandez is laying the ground work to have the forensics team go over it.”
“Whoa, maybe they’ll find Shannon’s blood in his car. Do you think that’s where Libby found that rosary too?” Brien asked, cramming fries into his mouth.
“That is an excellent question, Brien. Libby left her car in Manhattan Beach, so the rosary could have been in it before that Thanksgiving weekend when Shannon disappeared. Maybe she took it from the shrink's car with all the other items, but then why not stash it in the suitcase with everything else?” Frank asked.
“It's Libby, Frank, so who knows?” Jessica responded. “She could have picked it up any time and somewhere else other than Carr’s Mercedes. Stashing all that stuff she found in Carr’s Mercedes does mean she went back to her condo after Thanksgiving weekend. How did she get back to Manhattan Beach? If she’s been back to her condo, why didn’t she take her own car with her when she returned to the desert for our rendezvous at the top of Mt. San Jacinto?”