Murder A La Carte

by Nancy Skopin

  Bill took me through administration first, introducing me to an eccentric collection of employees including a woman with spiky black hair, gothic make-up, eyebrow and nose piercings, and attitude galore. L’s first name turned out to be Lynette. She was the Records Supervisor, and when we reached her desk she showed me photos of her children and grandchildren, and of her cocker spaniels. I proudly shared a picture of Buddy that I carry in my wallet.

  While we were in administration one of the detectives came in looking for some paperwork. Before Bill got the chance, Lynette said, “Mario, this is Nicoli Hunter, Bill’s girlfriend.”

  I shook Mario’s hand. He gave mine a squeeze and looked me up and down appraisingly.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, pulling my hand away and resisting the urge to wipe it on my jeans.

  I’d been hoping to see Lieutenant Marcia Quinn. She had recently saved a childhood friend of mine from a crazed killer and I wanted to thank her again, but she wasn’t in the office she shared with the Investigations Sergeant at the moment.

  Bill ushered me through the atrium and into the detective bureau, also known as the ‘back room’. I’d been in this area before, but hadn’t actually met any of Bill’s coworkers. The first detective he introduced me to was Diane Winslow, who was the only female in the room. She was about five-nine and around a hundred and sixty pounds, with brown hair pulled back at the nape of her neck, and brown eyes. She gave me her business card and said I should call any time I wanted to complain about Bill. Once again I had the feeling of intimacy, like there was already a relationship established between us. It made me feel welcome and uncomfortable at the same time.

  There were two men in their thirties having a conversation by the window near Bill’s desk. He introduced me to Dale Gooden and Tom King. Both men were dressed in jeans, flannel shirts, thermal vests, and rubber soled hiking boots. Apart from being dressed alike, they interacted like siblings and they kind of looked alike. I wondered if working with a partner long term was like being married, and you started to resemble each other after a while. I shook Gooden and King’s hands and they resumed their conversation.

  Next Bill introduced me to the 911 dispatchers. There were four women and one man in a circular bullpen area. They were all casually dressed and extremely friendly. I had expected this area to be fraught with tension, but in fact it was the most relaxed department I’d been in so far. I shook everyone’s hand and received yet another invitation, from a heavyset woman, to call her any time I needed to dish about Bill. I wondered what kind of complaints they expected me to have. Maybe they thought a civilian would need to talk about the stress of dating a cop. In fact, the opposite was more likely to be true. My job created more stress for Bill than his did for me.

  Finally we arrived in records. I felt the goose flesh before we even passed through the doorway. Nina Jezek was seated in front of a flat panel monitor, entering data on an ergonomic keyboard. Her desk was devoid of any personal memorabilia. She probably shared it with a day shift employee.

  She was dressed in jeans, Nikes, and a navy-blue polo shirt with the RCPD logo emblazoned on the chest. Her face was unlined and she looked about twenty-five, although I knew from her driver’s license she was older. Her hair was light brown and cut short, framing an attractive face unadorned by make-up.

  She looked up as we approached and I saw her lips curve into a smile when she made eye contact with Bill. Then her gaze shifted to me and the smile vanished. Oh my God, I thought, she has a crush on him.

  Bill introduced us and I held out my hand. She hesitated, then slowly stood up and said, “Nice to meet you.”

  When she took my hand I felt the voltage shoot up my arm. Her grip was firm, her hand was cool and dry, and she was, without a doubt, the killer I had been seeking. I felt shock waves run through my psyche and fought the reflex to snatch my hand away.

  “So this is the records department,” I said casually. “How long have you worked here, Nina?”

  She released my hand and took a step back, moving behind her swivel chair.

  “Almost two years,” she said.

  She and Bill made small talk for a few tense minutes, then we let Nina get back to work and reentered the atrium in the center of the building.

  I sat down on a bench surrounding a large planter box and tried to breathe.

  “You okay?” Bill asked.

  “I have a headache. Do you have any aspirin?”

  “Sure. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

  I glanced over my shoulder while he was gone, half expecting Nina to come at me from behind while I was alone. Of course that was silly. There was no way she could know I was working for the son of one of her victims. I was just spooked.

  Bill came back a minute later with a bottle of Excedrin and a paper cup of water. I swallowed two of the pills and drank all the water.

  “Thanks. Maybe I’ll go home and lie down. I have to work tonight.”

  Bill walked me to my car and gave Buddy a head scratch, then stood there and watched me drive away. My gut twisted as I formulated a plan to catch Nina in the act. I hoped my relationship with Bill was strong enough to weather this.

  Back at the office, I called Jack, Elizabeth, Jim, and Lily. Much to my relief they all agreed to meet with me at 6:00 that night.

  Chapter 28

  I brewed a pot of coffee, extra strong, lit a cigarette, and opened a blank Excel workbook on the computer. I created a timeline spreadsheet for the next seventy-two hours, starting at midnight tonight when Nina got off work. I’d take the first shift from midnight to 2:00 a.m., Jim would take 2:00 to 4:00 a.m., Elizabeth and Jack would share 4:00 to 8:00 a.m., and Lily would pick Nina up at 8:00. I’d relieve Lily at noon tomorrow.

  I remembered J.V. was flying in tomorrow morning. I’d have to suggest a rental car so he could spend time with Scott while I was tailing Nina.

  By 6:00 I was wired on caffeine and adrenaline. I waited until everyone was gathered in the office before outlining my plan. I went over the surveillance schedule and each of my friends accepted the shift I’d chosen for them, so I printed five copies of the spreadsheet and handed them out, giving Nina’s driver’s license photo, which Jim and Jack already had, to Lily and Elizabeth. No one questioned the fact that we were going to follow this woman around the clock based solely on my intuition.

  I made sure everyone had each other’s cell numbers before we parted company at 6:45.

  Buddy and I took a walk around the marina, then went down to the boat and had dinner.

  Bill called at 7:50.

  “How’s your headache?”

  I felt a pang of guilt. “Better. I think I was just hungry. I’ll be working late tonight. I have a couple of bar surveys to do in San Francisco and one of the owners wants me to stay until closing time.”

  This wasn’t unusual. I often work until 2:00 a.m., but my tone of voice must have given me away because Bill was silent. I’m not a good liar and Bill has years of experience recognizing deceit.

  “I’ll be taking Buddy with me tonight,” I added, hoping to divert his attention.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “You want to get together tomorrow?”

  “If I’m not working, sure.” His tone was distant. He could tell I was hiding something.

  After ending the call Buddy and I watched the news while cuddling on the pilothouse settee.

  At 11:00 I dressed in black jeans and a black turtleneck, with my black leather jacket concealing the holster at the small of my back.

  I got Buddy settled in the back seat of the Bimmer and drove to the RCPD, parking in a vacant lot across the street. At 12:04 Nina’s black Celica rolled out through the security gate. She turned right on Maple and I followed at a distance. It’s always easier to tail someone in the dark. Car headlights
are less recognizable than the make, model, and color of a car.

  We cruised up Woodside Road toward Highway 280. Nina made a left just past the Pioneer Saloon and then an immediate right into the Village Pub parking lot. I pulled into the lot behind her and parked a few rows away from the Celica.

  I watched Nina climb out of her car wearing a voluminous white chiffon dress with ankle strap sandals. She had to be freezing. It wasn’t more than fifty degrees outside.

  The Village Pub is an elegant little restaurant that caters to the well-to-do residents of Woodside. I doubted they served dinner after 10:00 p.m., but the bar would be open.

  I waited a minute before following Nina inside. As I entered I scanned the cocktail lounge to my right and spotted her seated at the end of the bar near a small group of well-dressed men who occupied a corner table. I chose a table as far from the exit as I could get and hoped Nina wouldn’t spot me in the mirror behind the bar. I sat with my back to her, trying to be invisible.

  The cocktail waitress approached my table and I ordered coffee. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the bartender serve Nina something pink in a tall glass with cherries and a straw. The men at the table on her left had taken notice of her, and no small wonder. Her dress was sheer and, although her curves were minimal, those she had were clearly displayed.

  After a few minutes one of the men at the table rose and approached the bar. He stood near Nina while speaking with the bartender, and then turned to face her. He was a handsome dark-haired man in his late thirties. He smiled easily as he spoke, and I got a distinctly flirtatious vibe watching Nina’s response. The bartender served the man his drink and he seated himself on the stool next to Nina’s. She was concentrating on him now, and I was getting a stiff neck from watching over my shoulder, so I scooted my chair around for a better view.

  The cocktail waitress served my coffee and asked if I wanted to run a tab.

  “No thanks,” I said, handing her a twenty. When she moved out of my line of sight I noted that the dark-haired guy was holding Nina’s hand. Fast worker. I remembered Bill saying she was shy. Obviously he’d never seen her in a bar.

  The guy was facing me and I could see Nina smiling demurely in the back bar mirror. I took a mental picture of the man, then looked up at the ceiling and spotted two surveillance cameras. One was directed at the cash register behind the bar, but the other was mounted above the mirror, facing the room. That one might get a clear shot of his face. Now all I had to do was figure out how to get a still shot from the video. If the Village Pub had an internal computer network there was a remote possibility the security cameras were run through it. If that was the case, Michael might be able to hack into the network and get me access to the footage. Of course, once I had his picture I still had to find out who he was. I thought about revisiting the sex offenders website searching for his face, and shuddered at the memory of what I’d read on those pages.

  While I was mulling all this over in my head, Nina slipped off her barstool. I quickly turned my chair so my back was to her and took a compact out of my purse so I could watch what was happening without being seen. I pretended to put on lip gloss as I watched the man say something to his friends before escorting Nina outside.

  Holy shit! Was she going home with this guy? I had to remind myself she was a cold-blooded killer and not the innocent she appeared to be. I collected my change from the table, leaving a tip, and moved toward the door.

  When I reached the lot Nina’s Celica was backing out of the parking space and a shiny new Mercedes Roadster was idling near the exit. I turned my head so my hair covered my face and hurried to the BMW.

  Buddy and I got to Woodside Road in time to see the Celica following the roadster toward Highway 280. I made the left turn and gave chase. They stayed on Woodside Road until it became La Honda Road, and then made a right onto Skywood Way, and another right on Ranch Road. The roadster pulled into a driveway and Nina parked on the street. I quickly shut off my headlights and stopped at the intersection of Skywood and Ranch.

  My whole body was thrumming with anticipation. A sex offender who could afford to live in the Woodside Hills might have bought his way out of trouble. I checked the luminous dial on my watch. It was 1:47 a.m. I desperately wanted a cigarette, but smoke is visible even at night, and I needed to remain in the shadows.

  Nina got out of her car and sashayed up the driveway. I took out my cell phone and called Jim. I couldn’t see the address but I gave him directions and described the house, which was a two-story Georgian-style brick. It wouldn’t be hard for him to spot my car. The houses in this neighborhood were at least an acre apart, and Nina’s Celica and my BMW were the only cars parked on the street.

  Once Nina was inside I took out my camera and shot a couple pictures of the front of the house. Then I rolled down my window, lit a cigarette, and waited for Jim.

  Chapter 29

  Nina had followed Giordano to the Village Pub the previous Saturday night and decided to take the chance that he might show up there again. Because Giordano favored slender young women she had chosen a dress that accentuated her lack of assets. The taser was in her purse, in case he didn’t approach her. If that happened her plan was to follow him home and stun him when he got out of his car. Last week he had parked in his driveway, so she assumed he’d do the same thing tonight.

  Nina had been unnerved by Anderson’s visit with his PI girlfriend. There was something disturbing about Nicoli Hunter. When they shook hands she’d had the feeling Hunter could almost read her mind.

  She had changed clothes and put on make-up during her dinner break. Being the only swing shift employee in the records department had its benefits. After work she’d driven to the Village Pub and immediately spotted Giordano’s Mercedes. She parked nearby, checked her image in the rearview mirror, and took a deep breath. This would be the first time she had attempted to seduce a target before taking him out. She wasn’t sure she had the skills required. Nina had never been good with men. The ones who were attracted to her always wanted to be in control, and Nina could not allow herself to be dominated.

  She’d entered the restaurant and gone directly to the bar, ordering a Shirley Temple with an extra cherry and a straw. Giordano was at the same table he and his friends had occupied the previous weekend. Sipping her drink, she’d glanced in his direction, made eye contact and smiled, then quickly looked away. The second time she glanced at him he’d said something to his friends, gotten up, and come over to the bar. He’d ordered a Kettle One martini on the rocks, then turned to her and said, “How you doin’ tonight?” His speech was imprecise, making him sound like he had a cold. Nina knew it was because of the missing tip of his tongue.

  “I’m fine,” she’d said. “Maybe a little bored with the nightlife in this town.”

  “Really? You don’t look like the kind of girl who craves excitement.”

  “I might surprise you,” she’d said.

  When Giordano’s drink was served he’d swallowed half of it and seated himself next to her.

  “What’s your name sweetheart?”

  “Nina. What’s yours?”

  “Alfredo Giordano. You can call me Fredo.”

  “Nice to meet you, Fredo.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Nina.” He’d put his hand on top of hers. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Actually, I don’t need another drink. I was here last weekend and I saw you with your friends. I came back tonight thinking I might get to meet you.”

  She hoped his ego was inflated enough to buy her act.

  Giordano had scrutinized her for a moment. “Is that right?” he’d said. “Well, why don’t we go to my place and get to know each other.”

  “I’d like that,” Nina said, with a coy smile.

  “I’ll tell my friends we’re leaving.”

  As
they’d walked outside Nina had taken his arm and leaned into him. “Do you mind if I follow you? I’ll feel more secure if I have my own car in the morning.”

  “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

  She’d followed him up into Woodside Hills and made a point of parking on the street when they reached his house. She didn’t want her car to be seen in his driveway. He probably had security cameras on the property. She hoped he didn’t have any in the bedroom.

  Giordano parked his Benz and waited for Nina to join him before unlocking the front door. He ushered her into the foyer and she watched as he keyed in his security code. Nina’s memory wasn’t photographic, but it was very good.

  “Would you like a drink?” Giordano asked.

  Nina wanted Giordano as intoxicated as possible. He was a big man and she would need him to be relaxed for what she had in mind.

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she said.

  Giordano escorted Nina into the living room where he had a beautifully appointed wet bar. He was having another Kettle One martini. He mixed their drinks in an old fashioned cocktail shaker and poured them into rocks glasses.

  Nina scanned the ceiling for cameras, but didn’t see anything obvious. She took a sip of the drink and smiled. It was very strong.

  Giordano ran his fingers up her arm. “I like your dress,” he said.

  “I bought it for you.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “You’re a very attractive man. You must be used to women throwing themselves at you.”

  “It happens.”

  “This is an amazing house,” Nina said. “May I have a tour?”