Cold Justice (Kali O'Brien series Book 5)

by Jonnie Jacobs

  “Do you think it possible that our killer wasn’t so much fascinated with the Bayside Strangler as with the murder of Wendy Gilchrist?”

  “Certainly but I bet there’s not as much distinction as you think.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s like having a favorite actor. You like most everything he does, but there may be one movie in particular that’s your favorite. Your killer could be fascinated with the Bayside Strangler and still exhibit preference for the Gilchrist murder.” Dunworthy’s delivery was growing clipped, as though he were in a hurry. “I’d be happy to discuss this with you in detail. But another time, I’m afraid. I have a commitment at the moment, and I really must go.”

  She thanked him for his time and hung up, not sure that she’d gleaned anything helpful from the conversation. Certainly nothing that relieved the gnawing uneasiness she felt.

  Heading home, Kali promised herself she wouldn’t think about the case for the remainder of the night. A good movie and Margot’s company would keep her occupied.

  She would have been true to her word if the previews of coming attractions hadn’t included clips from a film about a wrongly accused man on death row.

  “I guess that one’s a little too close to home,” Margot whispered.

  Kali nodded. That brief reminder was all it took. Doubts about Lancaster churned at the back of her mind throughout the entire feature. It was a romantic comedy of the sort that would usually have absorbed her, but though she laughed occasionally, she never fully relaxed.

  Afterward, Kali and Margot stopped for pizza and got to talking to the two men at the next table. It amused Kali to watch Margot flirt with them. Both men were overweight and had spent the early part of the their dinner talking about an old Mustang one of them was rebuilding. Kali suspected Margot wasn’t so much interested in the men themselves as in flexing her feminine skills. At least she’d stopped short of handing out her phone number or last name, for which Kali was grateful.

  Finally Kali pleaded exhaustion and dragged Margot away.

  “You’re giving the fair sex a bad name,” Kali chided when they got into the car.

  “I was just having fun.”

  “You’re like a teenager.”

  Margot laughed. “That’s not so far off. I’m still experimenting with my new identity. You’ve had all those years I missed.”

  “Heartache and angst. Be glad you missed them.”

  “You think I didn’t have heartache and angst? Imagine how you’d feel if you’d spent your youth imprisoned in a man’s body.”

  This was a conversation they’d had before. And while Kali understood in theory, she had trouble imagining herself as anyone but who she was.

  Margot turned on the radio and began humming along with a rendition of “Yesterday.” Kali, grateful not to be the one driving, closed her eyes and let the movement of the car gently rock her.

  Margot stopped humming. “Had those guys even asked for their check by the time we left?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “I could swear we’re being followed.”

  Kali opened her eyes and started to turn.

  “Don’t do that,” Margot yelped. “They’ll know that we know. Besides, you can’t see anything but lights.”

  “Then how do you know it’s them?”

  “I don’t. But someone has been on our tail since we left the restaurant. You think maybe I should drive around a bit before heading home?”

  “Definitely. And lock the doors.”

  Margot hit the master lock. Abruptly, she turned left onto a side street. They were only one block from the bright lights and traffic of Shattuck Avenue, but the neighborhood was residential and quiet this time of night.

  “What are you doing?” Kali felt fear rise in her chest. “We should stay where there are people.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize how dark it was down here.”

  “Well, it is.”

  “I know, I know.” Margot’s voice reflected some of the same fear. “I just wanted to see if they were really following us.”

  “Are they?”

  “Afraid so.”

  Margot slowed for a speed bump and Kali held her breath, half afraid the car behind them would take the opportunity to knock into them. “You’re going to circle the block and get back to Shattuck, right?”

  “As fast as I can.” Margot pushed the speed between bumps. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’m through flirting with strange men.”

  “It might not be them, you know.”

  “Who else would it be?”

  “Two women have been murdered recently, remember?”

  Margot started to laugh, then stopped and turned to Kali. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Like you said, I’ve lived more years as a woman than you have. It never hurts to be careful.”

  “I thought they arrested someone.”

  “They did,” Kali said. “Why don’t you head up Ashby. We’ll go to the Claremont where there’s a parking attendant and a doorman.”

  They’d gone only about a quarter of a mile farther, when Margot heaved a sigh of relief. “I think they turned off.”

  Just to be safe, Margot and Kali took an indirect way home. Margot was silent, leaving Kali to ponder her instinctive remark about murder. For a moment, she had completely forgotten that Kurt Lancaster was in jail.

  CHAPTER 30

  Lou had not slept well. Too much MSG in the kung pao shrimp, or maybe too many beers to wash it all down. In any case, he’d tossed and turned, and rolled out of bed Sunday morning more tired than when he’d gotten in it the night before. The weather was gray and cold, which didn’t help matters. The day loomed before him like a vast stretch of empty desert. He wanted only to get through it.

  Not so long ago, weekends had been special. Even when he was on call, Saturdays and Sundays held a certain magic for him. No waking to the shriek of the alarm clock, a leisurely breakfast of Jan’s blueberry pancakes instead of a hurried cup of coffee, the promise of an afternoon football game on the television. Jan and Nikki filling the house with energy, rounding out the hollow corners of his soul. He’d taken it all for granted. Didn’t even realize what he’d had until he no longer had it.

  So what if he hadn’t needed to set an alarm this morning. It didn’t matter, he’d been awake since five o’clock. And now, as he faced an empty refrigerator, he saw little appeal in a leisurely breakfast of stale Cheerios.

  He ought to get himself a dog, he decided. Something to break the monotony of these long, solitary days. Nikki had begged for a dog when she was younger. Lou couldn’t remember now why he and Jan hadn’t agreed to it. Something about work and responsibility and the preservation of Lou’s garden, most likely. It seemed the height of irony to get a dog now to fill the quiet Nikki left behind.

  Having a dog wouldn’t help with his breakfast dilemma, either. Lou closed the refrigerator door. What he wanted was eggs and bacon and hash browns. A real breakfast. And he wasn’t going to get it by standing around feeling sorry for himself.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was seated at Denny’s trying to decide whether he wanted toast on the side, or English muffin. He went for the toast, gave the waitress his order, and unfurled the morning paper. Starting with the comics, as he always did, he was well into his scrambled eggs by the time he turned to the in-depth report on Kurt Lancaster and the latest murders. The article bore Jack Jackson’s byline, which didn’t surprise Lou. Having hit the big time with his book, Jackson seemed to be milking the recent murders for more publicity.

  Lou read with interest, finding his own name mentioned in several places, and, he was pleased to note, in a favorable light. While Jackson rehashed parallels between the Bayside Strangler and the two current murders, he didn’t fan the fire of doubt about Davis’s guilt. Lou gave him credit for that. But neither did the article suggest certainty that Lancaster was the killer. Had Jackson talked to Kali O’Brien and picked up on her doubt
s? Or was he simply being the cautious journalist? Either way, Lou couldn’t help but feel irked. They had an arrest in the case; that was what the papers should have been focusing on.

  Lou chewed on a strip of bacon. He wondered if Diana Davis had heard about the arrest, and whether it would settle anything in her mind. The story might not have been covered outside of the Bay Area. He made a mental note to dig out her address and send her a clipping.

  When his beeper went off, he glanced at the number, fully expecting it to be Keating. Instead it was a number he didn’t recognize. He returned the call and was greeted by a female voice.

  “Hi, Lou. It’s Maureen Oliver. I hope I’m not interrupting something.”

  “What would you be interrupting?”

  She laughed, sounding self-conscious. “I don’t know. You weren’t at home. I tried that number first.”

  “I was having breakfast.”

  “Oh.” She sounded unsure. Maybe she’d taken his response as a reproach.

  “Just finished. Is there a problem?”

  “No problem. I’m calling with good news. At least I think it’s good. I’m over here at Kurt Lancaster’s apartment. I found something interesting.”

  “What is it?” Lou asked. If Maureen was going to make it in police work, she was going to have to learn to get to the point.

  “One of his dolls,” she said. “A mannequin, actually, had a purse draped over her shoulder. Jane Parkhurst’s library card was stuck in an inside pocket.”

  <><><>

  Kali spent Sunday afternoon at the gym, then drove home to shower. She’d forced herself through a rigorous workout. Rigorous by her standards at any rate, and she was feeling pleasantly exhausted. She greeted Loretta, then checked her answering machine while the dog sat at her feet getting her ears scratched. Three calls. Her friend Nina, a hangup, and a long message from Nathan, who apologized for being short with her. He hoped they could get together soon. Kali was glad she hadn’t been there to take the call. She’d decided the best way to handle Nathan was to ignore him.

  She poured herself a glass of water and drank thirstily. The aroma of the chocolate cookies she’d baked earlier lingered in the air. Something so she wouldn’t go empty-handed to Nina’s that evening for dinner. She’d eaten two before heading off to the gym, and she was determined to avoid further temptation.

  She took a shower and was toweling her hair dry when the doorbell rang. Peeking through the window, she saw a familiar car in the driveway, a black sedan with not-so-discreet patrol lights on the sides. Her first thought was of trouble.

  Her hand was shaking as she opened the door.

  “Oops,” Bryce said, with an eye toward her wet head. “Looks like I should have called first.”

  Kali cinched her bathrobe tighter across her middle. Her heart did a little flip-flop at the sight of him. Still, she’d rather have been fully dressed with at least minimal makeup. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Nothing. In fact, I’m the bearer of good news.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “There’s new evidence linking Lancaster to one of the victims.”

  “Who?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted it to be Anne or not. Being part of the investigation meant walking an emotional tightrope.

  “Jane Parkhurst.”

  Relief. That was what she felt. So much for keeping her professional distance. As much as she wanted, and needed, details, she was never able to forget that Anne had been a friend.

  Bryce leaned forward, peering into the interior. “Can I come in?”

  She ran a hand through her wet hair. What was she going to do, tell him to come back in twenty minutes when she was presentable? She’d have liked to. Instead, she opened the door and stepped back. As they entered the open hallway, Kali was aware of the clutter of newspapers and books strewn everywhere. Weekends did that to her housekeeping.

  But Bryce’s gaze was on the panorama framed by the wall of windows. He whistled. “Nice view you’ve got.” He moved closer. It was a typical reaction from first-time visitors.

  “It’s the reason I bought the house,” Kali said. And even now she never tired of looking at it. Every day was different. Every hour. The sky, the bay, the lights and shapes of the city. Sometimes so crisp and clear she felt as if she could reach out and touch the towers of the Golden Gate. Other days, like today, muted by gray light, like an Impressionist painting.

  “I can see why.”

  “So what’s the evidence you’ve found?”

  “Jane Parkhurst’s library card was in a purse in Lancaster’s apartment. Maureen Oliver found it.”

  Kali raised her eyebrows. “Nothing else, just the card?”

  “Right. Lou’s over there now. The way they figure it is, Lancaster took her purse, dumped the contents, and didn’t realize the library card was stuck in an interior zipper compartment.”

  Kali felt a swell of relief. They’d gotten their man, after all.

  The smallest slipup by an offender could be a godsend for police and prosecutors, and it looked as though luck had been with them this round.

  “It will be even better if we can identify the purse as hers,” Kali said.

  Bryce nodded. “We’re dusting it for prints. And Maureen suggested asking some of her friends if they recognize it. If Lancaster kept the purse, he may have kept other items as well, so they’re going over everything again with a fine-tooth comb.”

  They were still standing. Kali waited for Bryce to add to what he’d told her about Lancaster, and when he didn’t, she thought he would depart. Instead, he picked up a book from the sofa table.

  “Avoiding Mr. Wrong.”

  Kali felt herself blush. “It was a gift from a friend.”

  “She thinks you need help?”

  “I don’t know what she thinks. It was just a joke.”

  Bryce looked amused. “I wonder if there’s an Avoiding Ms. Wrong.”

  “Are you asking out of personal interest?” He’d put her on the spot. It was only fair to turn the tables.

  He laughed. “Too late for me. I was married to her.” He placed the book back on the table and sniffed the air. “Smells good in here. Like chocolate.”

  “Cookies. I baked some earlier. For a friend.”

  “Same friend?”

  “Different.”

  He gave her a look. “Lucky friend.” About as subtle as her teenage nephew.

  “Would you like one?”

  “If you have enough.” He grinned.

  “Coffee?”

  “I prefer milk if you have it.”

  Cookies and milk. Kali suppressed a chuckle. Bryce Keating was full of surprises, but that wasn’t a bad thing. In his jeans and tattered sweater, he didn’t even look the part of hard-ass cop.

  She showed him to the kitchen, poured two glasses of milk, and set a plate of cookies on the table.

  “These are good.” He finished his first and reached for a second. “Guess Owen Nelson can rest a little easier now.”

  “Because of the new evidence against Lancaster?”

  Bryce nodded. “You admire the man, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Kali said. “I do. You don’t?”

  “I have nothing against the guy personally. But there are a lot of cops in the department who feel he doesn’t understand the pressures of the job. Being a cop isn’t like being a lawyer, where you’ve got time to deliberate and plan. Front-line crime fighting is tough and dirty.”

  “I don’t think Owen’s unaware of that fact.”

  Bryce scowled. “He’s been pretty quick to speak out against cops who don’t follow his plan.”

  “His plan, Bryce? You mean the law.”

  “The letter of the law.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “Subtle but important. I’m not talking about flagrant misconduct by cops. That kind of behavior ought to be exposed and stopped. But when you’re dealing with scum who by all rights should have been in prison years ago, too much precision can
be counterproductive.”

  It was a familiar lament among cops. They were expected to put their lives on the line, but when it came to rights, suspects won out over cops every time. Kali didn’t totally agree with the view, but she had sympathy. “You’d prefer Tony Molina?”

  Bryce made a face. “I don’t think there’s a cop alive who’d vote for him.”

  “You’re in Greg Barton’s camp, then?”

  “Not with any enthusiasm. Trouble is, he can’t see past the end of his own nose.”

  “Or the latest contribution from a special-interest group.”

  Keating grinned at her. His eyes were dark and soft, and fixed on hers in a way that made Kali’s skin tingle.

  “At least we have that in common,” he said.

  Kali wasn’t sure how to respond. It was clear that he’d tilted the conversation in a more personal direction. But he was being coy about it. “At least that,” she said finally.

  He leaned back in his chair, sucked on his cheek as though thinking, then stood. “Guess I’d better let you get dressed.”

  Kali gave a half a moment’s thought to flinging off the robe and saying to hell with it. She had a feeling Bryce was thinking the same thing.

  A vague smile played across his lips. Then he took a step toward the door. “Thanks for the cookies.”

  “Thanks for the good news about the library card.”

  The moment had passed.

  Kali walked with him to the door, then down the front path where she could retrieve the throwaway circular in her driveway. That was when she saw the recycle bin, upturned, under the window at the side of the house. And next to it, a crumpled Dove dark-chocolate wrapper. The same sort of wrapper she’d found in the grocery bag on the deck two days earlier. She stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Something the matter?” Keating asked.

  “Sorry, just thinking.”

  “Not pleasant thoughts apparently.”

  “Nothing important.” Maybe it had blown loose from the bag before she picked it up. “Thanks for coming all this way to deliver the news in person. You didn’t have to do that.”