by Nancy Skopin
“Mister Sutherland came in and gave his statement this morning.”
“So you already know all of this.”
“Please continue.”
“A few minutes after midnight on Saturday morning I followed Jezek from the RCPD to the Village Pub, where she met a man who turned out to be Giordano. They talked at the bar for a few minutes and then she followed him to a house on Ranch Road in the Woodside Hills. I saw her go into the house and she was still inside at approximately 2:00 a.m., when Jim Sutherland relieved me.”
“What was she wearing?” he asked.
“A white dress and high-heeled sandals.”
“And her vehicle?”
“Black Toyota Celica.”
“Anything else you’d like to add to your statement?”
I looked around for the tape recorder. I didn’t see one and he hadn’t been taking notes.
“Are you taping this?” I asked.
“I have an excellent memory.”
“I don’t mind if you’re taping it,” I said. “I’m just curious. I don’t see a tape recorder anywhere.”
“Do you want to add anything to your statement?” he asked again.
“Just that Jezek is also being sought in connection with a homicide that took place in San Francisco Saturday night and one that took place in Atherton on Sunday around noon, as well as the most recent murder in Los Altos.”
“Okay. Thank you for coming in.”
He extended his hand and I shook it. His palm was dry and slightly calloused, his grip was firm but not overbearing, and touching him did not give me a warm feeling.
Buddy was happy to see me. I walked him around the outside of the complex and let him pee on several bushes before we got back in the car.
I rolled the windows all the way down, lit a cigarette, and considered the interview process. If Harding had been taping our conversation he had a legal obligation to say so. When I’d asked him if he was taping it, he had refused to answer. What the hell was that about? And why interview me at his desk instead of in an interview room where everything would automatically be videotaped? My best guess was that he was trying to put me at ease by talking to me at his desk, hoping I would offer more information. Regardless, the guy was a creep.
I replayed the whole conversation in my head as we drove back to the marina.
Buddy and I walked down to the boat and had lunch, then I took a nap, still trying to recover from the previous night’s indulgence.
I woke up after 5:00, showered, primped, and drank some coffee before selecting my outfit for the apology extravaganza. I decided on jeans and a sweater, under which I wore my black lace Natori bra and panties.
At 6:30 Buddy and I walked up to the parking lot. He hopped into the back of the Bimmer and we drove to Bill’s house.
The Mustang was parked in the driveway when we arrived. There was a bronze Lexus SUV parked on the street in front of the house, but that wasn’t unusual. Madison Avenue is always crowded with cars. I pulled into the driveway behind Bill’s Mustang.
Hooking Buddy’s leash to his collar, I slung my purse over my shoulder, and collected the gift box. My heart was pounding and I was so nervous I was afraid the power of speech might elude me. Buddy and I stepped onto the porch and I rang the doorbell.
I could hear people talking inside the house. Was that a woman’s voice? I was pondering what that might mean when the door opened and I was greeted by a tall blonde with large Bambi eyes and a supermodel figure draped in a fuchsia wrap dress. She had a cocktail in her hand.
“Hello,” she said warmly. “You must be Nicoli.”
She reached out and stroked Buddy’s silky head and the traitor wagged his tail.
I was, as I had feared, speechless.
“Who is it, Annie?” Bill called from somewhere in the house.
“I think it’s Nicoli,” she responded.
I thrust the guitar strings at her and turned on my heel. Buddy resisted my attempts to get him back into the car. Bill was nearby and he liked the nice lady in the pink dress. I tugged on his leash and swore at him.
“Nikki?”
I looked over my shoulder and saw Bill standing on the porch. He was holding a dishtowel in one hand and the gift box in the other. Annie stood behind him, looking amused. He looked bewildered and angry.
“Where are you going?” he growled.
“I came over to apologize,” I hissed through my teeth, “for lying to you, you son of a bitch. I’m sorry I lied to you, and you can go straight to hell!”
I finally picked Buddy up and heaved him into the backseat. I jumped in the car, slammed the door, cranked the engine, and almost ran over Bill’s foot trying to get out of the driveway.
“Wait a minute!” he shouted. “Just a God damned minute!”
I had to escape. My eyes were filling with tears and the last thing I needed was for Bill to know how hurt I was that he hadn’t even waited two days before moving on. Unbelievable. I finally find a man I might want to spend my life with, we have one fight, and he’s with another woman before I can even get my act together enough to apologize. I am such a fool!
I felt a breach in the center of my chest. Love sucks. This was it for me. I was done. Men weren’t worth the trouble, except that Bill had been worth the trouble. Bill was great, the fucking jerk.
I made it about a block before my cell phone rang. I stopped at an intersection and checked the display. It was Bill. I turned the phone off and threw it at my purse.
Chapter 43
Nina Jezek, or Ellen Jenkins as she was now calling herself, stopped in Paris only long enough to book a flight to Amsterdam. She had enough cash to pay for the ticket and a couple of nights in a hotel once she reached her destination. When she landed in Amsterdam she would call her bank and have them wire her some money. Then she would change identities again. That shouldn’t be too hard in a place like Amsterdam.
The flight was jarring. Her seat was in coach where the passengers were jammed together like sardines. Nina didn’t like being close to other people. She didn’t like being touched or jostled, but she tolerated it because she was on a mission.
Once she had established her new identity and taken care of Giordano’s suppliers in Europe, Asia, and South America, she would go back to the states and finish off his remaining clients. One of his suppliers was in Tijuana. Maybe she’d have some plastic surgery done while she was there. She wondered if they could alter her fingerprints.
From the Schiphol airport she took a taxi to Hotel Sofitel. They had a vacant suite and were happy to accept her American dollars.
Nina followed the bellman to the elevator, not bothering to take in her opulent surroundings. She retrieved her suitcase from him at the door to the suite and gave him an appropriate tip, not wanting to stand out in his mind as being either too generous or too stingy.
She put out the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign before locking herself in for the night. She’d been in the air for more hours than she could remember. Her stomach was upset from the airplane food, and she was exhausted.
Nina took a long hot shower, wrapped herself in the complimentary bathrobe, and fell into a restless sleep.
Chapter 44
I drove back to the marina fighting to see through a film of tears. Buddy was licking my ear, knowing something was wrong and wanting to make it better.
I parked, not quite between the lines, in the boat owner’s lot, grabbed my purse and Buddy’s leash, and slipped on my sunglasses so my neighbors wouldn’t stop me to ask what was wrong. We managed to make it to the boat without an encounter.
I dug around under the sink until I found the Jameson’s, took a tumbler from the shelf, filled the glass three quarters of the way with Guinness Stout, and topped it off with a shot of the whiskey. I st
irred it with my finger and took a sip. Now here was a hangover remedy. Of course the hangover would only be gone until the next morning, but at the moment I didn’t care.
I took another sip, lit a cigarette, and looked at my cell phone. I had one message. I didn’t want to hear the message. The message was from Bill, who had a new woman in his life two days after storming out on me.
I picked up my landline and called Elizabeth.
“Help,” I said, when she answered.
“What happened?”
“I went to his house with two sets of Elixir guitar strings, which are not cheap by the way. I even gift-wrapped them, and he was with… he was with… another woman!”
“Who was she?” she asked.
“How the fuck do I know? She was beautiful, that’s who she was. She was my fucking replacement!”
“Honey, I hate to interrupt your wallowing, but how do you know that? Did you ask?”
“Of course not! I wasn’t going to stick around and let them rub it in my face!”
“So you don’t know who she was. She could be a friend. She could be his neighbor. Tell me exactly what happened.”
I told her every agonizing detail and when I was finished she said, “Have you listened to the voicemail message yet?”
“No. I don’t want to hear anything he has to say.”
“I love you, Nikki, but you’re being childish. Listen to the message and hold your cell up to the receiver so I can hear it too.”
“Elizabeth…”
“Stop being stubborn and play the message. You know you’re dying to hear it.”
“Am not!” I snapped.
I keyed in the voicemail code and held the cell up to my ear with the mouthpiece of my handset close enough so Elizabeth could hear.
“Thank you for the guitar strings,” said Bill, his tone clipped. “And thank you for the apology, such as it was. If you had stuck around for a minute I would have introduced you to my friend, Anne. I bought the house from her and her husband Alex six years ago, and we got close. I needed a woman’s opinion about what happened with you, so I bribed her with dinner if she would listen to my problems. For your information, she says I’m behaving like a caveman. Call me. I love you. Bitch.”
I saved the message and put the cell down on the galley counter.
“See,” said Elizabeth. “He loves you and she’s just a friend. A married friend.”
“Maybe.”
“Nikki, sweetie, get a grip. You overreacted. Now you have to apologize all over again.”
“No way. I am never doing that again.”
“Okay, you don’t have to apologize. But you do have to call him.”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“If you don’t call him right now and call me back and tell me you patched things up, I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight. Do you really want to do that to your best friend in the world?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Don’t make me come over there. Make the call, and call me back,” she shouted, and hung up.
I looked at the phone, then I looked at Buddy who was lying on the floor gazing up at me with a question in his big brown eyes. He missed Bill. I missed Bill. I played the voicemail message again, drank half of the boilermaker, and smoked another cigarette. Then I dialed Bill’s number.
The phone rang twice before he picked up.
“Hello, Nikki.”
“So Anne thinks you’re behaving like a caveman, huh? What else did she say?”
“She said I put you in a position where you had to lie to me in order to do your job, and the fact that you were willing to jeopardize our relationship in order to take care of your client shows integrity.”
“I think I like her.”
“Yeah, she’s okay.”
There was an awkward silence.
“So, what happens now?” I asked.
“I don’t know. You want to have dinner tomorrow night?”
“Okay. I’ll cook. Sixish?”
“See you tomorrow.”
I hung up the phone feeling scared and confused. Having dinner didn’t mean we were getting back together. Having dinner meant we were having a date.
I called Elizabeth back and she picked up before the phone finished ringing even once.
“So?”
“I’m making him dinner tomorrow night.”
“Excellent! Wait. What does that mean?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
“Relationships are hard work, Nikki. But he’s worth it, right?”
“Yeah, he’s worth it. I’m exhausted.”
“I know, honey. Go to bed. You need a good night’s sleep after the last week.”
“Okay. Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being my friend.”
“Yeah. It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” she laughed, and hung up.
I finished my drink and fell into bed with Buddy curled up by my side.
Chapter 45
I woke up feeling surprisingly well on Wednesday morning. It was a sunny day, and although my head was a little fuzzy, it wasn’t an unpleasant fuzziness.
I started a pot of Kona coffee and took a quick shower before turning on the TV. International news came on after the NASDAQ report. I felt a chill slither up my spine as the CNN anchor reported on a double homicide that had taken place in Amsterdam’s red light district. Abel and Dorothea VanKeuren had been stabbed to death. The middle-aged couple had been suspected of trafficking in the sale and exportation of minors for the purpose of sexual exploitation. Interpol had been investigating them.
Had Nina had gone international?
I finished my coffee and brushed my teeth before calling Bill. I told him about the murders in Amsterdam and suggested he inform Interpol about the local killings, and Nina.
“You want me to bring anything tonight?” he asked.
“Um, sure, you can bring dessert.”
“You never eat dessert.”
“I was speaking figuratively.”
I could almost hear the gears grinding. “Oh,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Maybe I’ll get there early and we can have dessert before dinner.”
Buddy and I spent the late morning and early afternoon taking care of restaurant and bar surveys in Sunnyvale, Mountain View, and Menlo Park. We were both overfed when we got back to the marina. I walked him around the grounds before opening the office.
I checked my voicemail and e-mail, tossed my survey notes into my inbox, and started a shopping list. I didn’t want anything too filling for dinner, in case there was dessert before and after, so I made a list of salad ingredients, then added wild salmon and teriyaki marinade. Bill is a big fan of carbohydrates, so I included rice on the list.
When I was satisfied that I’d provided for every dietary contingency, Buddy and I set out for the Whole Foods store on Jefferson.
After I’d packed all my groceries in the trunk of my car, I glanced at my watch. Bill wasn’t due until 6:00, and it was only 3:45. I had time to go lingerie shopping.
I drove north to the Hillsdale Mall and started at Nordstrom but ended up at Forever21 where I picked up a short, red silk kimono with gold and black embroidery. My plan was to greet Bill in the kimono and nothing else.
We arrived back at the marina a little after 5:00. I loaded my purchases into a dock cart and wheeled them down to the boat. I put the salad stuff in the sink and started the salmon marinating before I showered.
I spritzed a little Must De Cartier behind my ears and in my cleavage, and put on the kimono. I climbed the steps into the pilothouse and locked the door, so Buddy cou
ldn’t let himself out when he heard Bill’s car.
I was assembling salad ingredients at 5:55 when Buddy started dancing in place. When I didn’t respond, he climbed the steps to the hatch and opened it, letting himself into the pilothouse, then stood staring back at me for a minute before he took the door handle between his teeth and tried to pull open it. When that didn’t work he started whining.
“You can wait for him here,” I said.
He looked at me over his shoulder, his ears pinned back in disapproval.
“Buddy, come,” I said.
He turned away, stubborn boy.
We didn’t have long to wait. I felt the boat sway and went up to unlock the door. Buddy barely let me get the door open before lunging outside to greet Bill, who tussled with the big puppy as his eyes took in my kimono and the obvious lack of undergarments.
“Hi,” he said.
When Buddy felt he had been adequately loved-up, he leaped down the companionway and Bill kissed me with a lot of tongue, groping me through the kimono.
“Let’s go inside,” I said, not wanting to give my neighbors too much of a show.
We had dessert before dinner, and after dinner, and again in the middle of the night. We didn’t talk about the future. I was afraid to broach the subject.
In the morning I got up and made him breakfast, in the kimono. Breakfast got cold while we had a repeat performance of the night before.