Cold Justice (Kali O'Brien series Book 5)

by Jonnie Jacobs

  “Of course not.” Except that the idea of being in Anne’s house now that she was dead saddened Kali beyond measure.

  “The cops said you were supposed to have dinner with her Friday night.”

  “Right.”

  “I just want to talk to someone who, you know, maybe knew what was going on.”

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to add anything, but I’d be happy to come by. I can be there in about half an hour, if that works.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate this.”

  <><><>

  Kali had made enough condolence visits to feel awkward about arriving empty-handed. On the other hand, bringing Jerry a casserole struck her as ludicrous. She opted for deli sandwiches and a bag of chips.

  Jerry answered the door on the first ring. Strain showed on his face and his eyes were bloodshot. “Thanks for coming.” He ushered her inside.

  Anne’s house, without Anne. It felt strangely quiet and stale. Kali caught sight of a lithograph Anne had purchased years ago with her first paycheck. She remembered Anne’s excitement the day she’d returned from lunch having found “just the thing” for her apartment wall. Now, Anne’s eyes would never gaze on the lovely snow-capped mountains again.

  “You want some coffee or something?” Jerry asked.

  The man was clearly feeling unsettled. His arms crossed at his chest, then dropped to his sides. He shuffled from foot to foot.

  “Sure,” Kali answered. Making coffee would give him something to focus on. “I brought sandwiches,” she added. “I wasn’t sure if you were up to thinking about food.”

  “Thanks. I’m not really. Hungry, that is.”

  They moved into the kitchen, and Jerry filled the coffeemaker with grounds, then flipped the switch.

  He wasn’t tall, maybe five-nine at most, but he was well proportioned and athletic looking without being particularly muscular. Dark eyes, curly black hair, and a mouth a bit too full for Kali’s tastes. She’d never really warmed to Jerry, but then, she’d never talked to him more than in passing.

  “I guess you know that Anne and I were separated,” he said.

  “She told me, but not much more than that.”

  “We were fighting a lot.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure about what even, but we were. I know I’m difficult sometimes, but Anne could be too. She’s so demanding . . .” He seemed on the verge of launching into a tirade about Anne’s faults, then remembered that she was gone. “Anyway, we were working it out. The separation was temporary.”

  “Anne said the same thing.”

  The water in the machine gurgled, and Jerry stared at it as though it held answers to all that confused him. “When did you last see her?”

  Kali thought it over. “Probably a week ago. We had lunch. But we talked on the phone other times. I talked to her Friday morning, in fact.”

  Jerry ignored the coffee and instead paced back and forth. Finally, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Who is he?”

  “Who is who?”

  “The guy she was seeing.”

  Kali shook her head. “She wasn’t seeing anyone.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

  The change in tone was so abrupt, it caught Kali by surprise. “I don’t—”

  “She must have talked about him. Women all talk. They can’t keep anything secret. Anne especially.”

  “She never—”

  “I want to know who he is, damn it!”

  Jerry’s eyes flashed with anger. Misdirected grief, Kali wondered, or something else? Whatever it was, it made her uncomfortable. “What makes you think she was seeing someone?”

  “Our separation, her coolness toward me . . .” Jerry pressed his palm to his forehead. “There had to be someone else.”

  “Not necessarily. Maybe it was just that your marriage needed a little work.” Listen to her, the woman who couldn’t keep a relationship going for the life of her, giving advice.

  But Jerry wasn’t listening anyway. “And then, today. . .” He shoved a florist’s box at Kali. “This was on the doorstep.”

  She opened it. A single long-stemmed yellow rose.

  “Read the card,” he said, his voice tight with emotion.

  Kali lifted it from the box. It was a standard florist’s card. White with a red heart in the corner. “Anne, you’ve made me so happy. I will love you forever.” There was no signature.

  Jerry’s face was red. His eyes had narrowed. “Just give me the truth.”

  Kali slipped the card back into its envelope, careful to touch only the outer edge. There was no way she could tell him the truth, even if she was sure what it was.

  But she knew she had to call Owen Nelson.

  CHAPTER 5

  Owen Nelson popped another throat lozenge into his mouth and shuffled the papers in his lap. Ostensibly he was boning up on labor and immigration studies, but it was dry reading, and with the cold he was suffering through, staying focused took more effort than he could muster. Campaigning was hard work, made harder still by the fact that everyone wanted a piece of him. Owen was not a natural politician. In fact, he hated politics. But he wanted to be governor, and he couldn’t get there without jumping through the necessary hoops.

  Owen put the papers aside and watched Alex through the den window. His son was washing his old, dented truck the way he did everything—in an apathetic, half-baked fashion.

  Twenty-three years old and the boy still acted like he was sixteen. Undisciplined, irresponsible, always looking for the easy way out. At twenty-three Owen had been putting himself through law school, building a life and a future. Alex had barely graduated from high school, and despite Owen’s best efforts to help him find a niche for himself, seemed content to drift from one low-paying job to another. The boy had potential too, which made his indifference all the more difficult to accept.

  Alex swiped the cloth carelessly over the driver ‘s-side door, missing whole stripes of grime. Owen closed his eyes; he couldn’t bear to watch. What was it Dr. Mooney had said—you have to pull back and let them live their own lives? Well, he’d tried and it hadn’t helped. Besides, it was easy for Dr. Mooney to talk. Both his daughters were Yale graduates.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Owen sat up with a start. He’d drifted off without even realizing it.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know you were sleeping.” Alex started to back away.

  “That’s okay. I didn’t mean to. It’s this damn cold I’ve got.”

  “Just wanted to say I’m taking off. Thanks for the use of the driveway.”

  “Anytime. You want to stay for dinner?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Selby’s got fresh crab.”

  “Sorry I can’t.”

  “Big plans?”

  Alex shrugged. “Just the usual.”

  Owen was never sure what the usual was. Alex lived alone, in a cramped and rundown apartment partially subsidized by Owen himself. If he had friends, Owen hadn’t heard about them.

  “Everything okay, son?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Selby poked her head in. “You’ve got a phone call, Owen.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Someone by the name of Kali O’Brien. She apologized for bothering you at home, but said it was important.”

  Owen pulled himself from the sofa. She probably wanted to make sure he’d heard about Anne Bailey’s murder.

  “Bye, Dad.” Alex started to leave, pushing past Selby without a word.

  “Son, you’re forgetting something.”

  “It’s okay, Owen.” Selby had stepped into the room. She pulled her blond hair into a knot at her neck, a nervous habit that Owen found incredibly sexy. “Really.”

  “No, it’s not okay,” he insisted. “Alex, please. Let’s do this right.”

  Alex was stopped halfway through the doorway. He looked at Owen, then at his stepmother. “Hi, Selby. Good to see you.” His voice was overly loud, his to
ne fake. He gave her an untidy peck on the cheek, then left without another word.

  Owen was fuming, but he wasn’t about to get into a shouting match with his son in front of Selby Damn it, though, the kid was going to start showing some respect or else. He forced himself to calm down before picking up the phone. “Hello, Kali. This is a surprise.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you—”

  “Not a problem. I was just looking over some very boring figures. This being a politician can get tedious.”

  There was a moment’s pause. “Did you see this morning’s paper?”

  “About Anne you mean?” So he’d been right about the reason for the call. Both women had worked for him some years ago. He kept in touch with them, but only sporadically.

  “Yes, about Anne. Do you know any more than is in the paper?”

  “No. I’m sure I’ll hear more tomorrow, but they don’t call me on weekends unless there’s some value added to having the DA himself involved.”

  There was a moment’s pause, and then she said, “I need to see you, Owen.”

  It was an unexpected request. Not even a request really, more of an announcement. But Owen couldn’t think of a way to gracefully decline. “I’ve got meetings scheduled all morning tomorrow, but maybe I can find a few minutes later in the day. Why don’t you call my secretary in the morning and see if she can fit you in.”

  “I think it would be better if we talked today. In person.”

  “Today?” The cold was making him groggy.

  “I can come over right now if you’re free.”

  He hesitated, then finally relented. She’d lost a friend, after all, and Kali O’Brien wasn’t one to go flying off the handle without reason. “Okay. You want to tell me what this is about?”

  “When I get there.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Now that she’d reached Owen, Kali was beset with doubts. Was she reading too much into a simple yellow rose? And bothering Owen at home—was that really necessary? No, and yes. That’s what she’d decided initially. And her instincts told her she was right still, but now, standing at the entrance of Owen’s palatial home in Piedmont, she was aware of the butterflies in her stomach.

  The door was opened by a woman with silky blond hair and high cheekbones. Selby Maxwell, Owen’s new, and younger, wife. Kali recognized her immediately, although she appeared more petite in person than on the screen.

  “Hi, I’m Kali O’Brien. Owen is expecting me.”

  Selby offered her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Selby.”

  “I know, I’m a big fan of yours. I think I’ve seen all your movies.”

  “Not the latest one, I hope,” she said with an easy laugh. “It was a disaster. Come in. Owen’s in the den. He’s feeling sorry for himself because he has a cold.”

  She lead Kali to a room at the back of the house, told Owen she was going out for a bit, then left the two of them alone.

  Owen rose from the sofa. “Hey, Kali. It’s good to see you again. It’s been over a year, hasn’t it?”

  “At least.” Kali offered her hand, but he ignored it, draping an arm around her shoulder instead. He gave her a friendly hug.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” she said, and meant it, despite the circumstances. Owen was one of the few heavy-hitters who didn’t let his ego eclipse his heart.

  “I’ve followed your successes in the news” he said. “You’ve done well.”

  If doing well meant winning cases, she hadn’t done too shabbily. But the rest of her life could use a little fine-tuning. “Look who’s talking. Mr. Governor.”

  Owen laughed. “There’s a lot of ground to cover between here and there, not the least of which is the upcoming primary. Two more months, and if I manage to beat that idiot Tony Molina, then it’s still a long haul until my faceoff with Barton in November. A lot can go wrong along the way.”

  “You’ll win, Owen. June and November both.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” He stepped back and gestured to a chair. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine.” She sank down into a soft leather armchair. Owen was looking good. He had to be at least fifty, but you couldn’t tell it. He had a full head of hair, silvered at the temples, and a trim, athletic build. When she’d first met him, she’d found him imposing. Now those same qualities gave him statesmanlike stature. Not only would he make a good governor, he’d look the role.

  “Congratulations on your marriage, by the way. I’m very happy for you.”

  “Thank you. I’m a lucky man. Though what a beautiful young woman like Selby sees in an old goat like me . . .“

  “Stop it, Owen.” He was launching into one of his humble, shuffle routines. Juries ate it up, but Kali knew him well enough to see it for what it was.

  Owen popped a cough drop into his mouth. “Well, I am a lucky man. There’s no denying that.”

  “How’s Alex?” Kali asked, again stepping around the purpose of her visit.

  “Still looking for his true calling, but otherwise he’s doing well. Still in recovery, no relapses that I know of. And we’re at least talking to one another these days.”

  Kali had always liked Alex. He’d been a skinny sixteen-year-old with an attitude when she first met him, but since she’d once been a sixteen-year-old with an attitude herself, she’d been more willing than his parents to take it in stride. Besides, she wasn’t related to him.

  It was Marilyn’s death that seemed to really pit father against son. Owen had lost a wife; Alex, a mother. But instead of turning to one another for comfort, they’d been at each other’s throats. Owen had found solace in work; Alex in drugs. Kali hadn’t seen Alex since Owen had shipped him off to a school for troubled teens in Idaho.

  “He’s young yet,” she said. “Give him time.”

  Owen made a face. “Not that young. He’s wasting the best years of his life. You wanted to see me about something?”

  She nodded. “About Anne.”

  “I thought that might be it. Her death was certainly a shock. She was a good lawyer. And a nice woman. It’s terrible what happened to her.”

  “Awful.”

  “But as I told you on the phone, I don’t know anything more than you do at this point.”

  “Actually, I may know more than you.” Kali hesitated, then jumped in with both feet. “Her husband found a florist’s box on the porch this morning, with a yellow rose inside.”

  “A rose?”

  “A yellow rose. With a card that professed eternal love.”

  Owen’s face blanched slightly, but he quickly recovered. “She and her husband were separated, weren’t they?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Just because there was a yellow rose—”

  “There was the card, too.”

  He nodded. “There usually is.”

  “But it doesn’t fit. Anne wasn’t seeing anyone. And it was a single rose, not a bouquet.” She couldn’t tell if Owen was playing devil’s advocate, or if he honestly found nothing odd about the coincidence. “There’s the trash bin aspect too,” she added.

  Owen rose and paced to the window, then back. “Dwayne Davis is dead, Kali. He couldn’t possibly have killed Anne.”

  “But—”

  “And he was the Bayside Strangler. We both know that, even if the jury wasn’t convinced he was responsible for all the murders.”

  “But there were loose ends, you can’t deny that.”

  Owen pressed a palm to his forehead and stared at her. “Don’t tell me those bleeding-heart liberal supporters of his have gotten to you.”

  “Oh, come on, Owen. You know I’m no fan of Davis’s.”

  “You’ve been working on the defense side for the past few years.”

  “That’s irrelevant. What’s important here is that Anne received a single yellow rose with a love note the morning after she was killed. Just like Davis’s victims.”

  “Except for Wendy G
ilchrist.”

  “Right.” Wendy had received a flower but no note. Hers was also one of the murders for which Davis had not been convicted. “The police asked me about Anne’s clothes,” Kali added. “They wanted to know what kind of dresser she was. At the time, I thought her body had been found nude.”

  Owen’s brown furrowed. “Did they say what she was wearing when they found her?”

  “They wouldn’t tell me. But they’d tell you.”

  A muscle in Owen’s jaw twitched. And then one near his temple. “Jesus!” He pounded his fist against the wall, leaving a small chip in the plasterboard. “Just what I don’t need. Especially now, with the primary heating up and Molina milking Davis’s execution for every bit of press he can get.”

  “That’s why I thought you should know right away. I figured you might want to poke around a bit and see what’s really going on before they get wind of it.” Although nothing was going to bring Anne back.

  “You haven’t spoken about this to anyone else, have you?”

  “No, of course not.” Kali couldn’t help but feel offended, although she knew Owen was simply sorting things out in his mind.

  “Thank you.” He gave her a long look. “Really, I thank you. In the wrong hands, this could become a political disaster.”

  “Perhaps a legal one, as well.”

  Owen shook his head. “Davis was our man. I was certain of it then and I’m certain of it now. I’ll find out what the cops have on Anne’s murder, but if there’s any connection at all with Davis, I guarantee you it’s a copycat killing.”

  “The media will still love it,” she pointed out.

  Owen’s expression was pained. “So will Molina.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Kali felt out of sorts for the remainder of the afternoon. She looked at the growing layer of dust and clutter around the house, and thought that tackling it might be a good use of her time. But when Margot called and suggested taking the dogs to Tilden Park for a walk, Kali leapt at the distraction.

  Margot was a new neighbor, a flaming redhead a few years older than Kali, who wasn’t, she’d confided one night over too much wine, technically yet a woman. She’d lived the first thirty-seven years of her life as Maurice and had an ex-wife who’d since discovered Margot to be a much easier companion than Maurice. Margot also had four spirited wolfhounds. Loretta was older and slower than Margot’s dogs, but she didn’t much seem to mind.