“Something your mother said,” he went on. “About your dad.”
Alex set the wine down with a thud. Some of the golden liquid splashed over the rim. “My dad? She said something to you about him and you didn’t tell me?”
“Don’t be mad-” His voice faded. It sounded like he had his convertible top down. “It was during one of her episodes. She’d crashed… you know what she was like then. The crazy things she would say. I didn’t think any of it was grounded in reality.”
“What, dammit? What did she say?”
“Miss, there’s no cell phone use in the spa.”
Alex held up a finger. “What did you-”
“-called him a bad man. Really bad, she said-”
“Ma’am, our rules are specific, while inside the spa, all cell phones must be off and stowed in the locker room.”
“-she left Sonoma to get away from him… keep you away from”-his voice faded in and out-“a liar. Lied about her. I’m wondering, that story about the boys… who told you?”
“Wayne Reed. Tim, pull over. I’m only getting part of what you’re saying.”
“… blamed him for Dylan… his fault-”
The spa attendant huffed loudly and held out her hand for the phone. Like Alex was a two-year-old playing with something she shouldn’t.
Alex looked at her. “Excuse me, this is quite urgent. And it’s not like I’m disturbing anyone but you.”
The woman’s expression registered shock, then anger. She turned on her heel and stalked out. Alex suspected she would be back directly-with reinforcements.
“You have to go… I’ll tell you more tonight-”
“No, wait-”
“I’m turning off my cell.”
“No! Tim-”
“Relax, doll. We’ll talk later.”
He hung up. She immediately dialed him back, but true to his promise, he had turned off his cell. It dumped her into voice mail.
She was leaving him a sharply worded message as the attendant and spa manager entered the lounge. The manager approached her, a perfect smile pasted on her plastic face. “Ms. Clarkson, I’m afraid I have to ask you to stow your cell phone with the rest of your belongings. I apologize for any inconvenience, but our goal is to provide you a luxurious and total relaxation experience. I hope you understand.”
Alex did, but she wanted to argue anyway. She wanted to shout that she had waited all her life to learn who her father was, and because of their rules she would have to wait hours more.
But she suspected they wouldn’t care. And that she would come off as the crazy woman she so feared becoming.
“Of course,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’ll do it now.”
Her thoughts raced with what Tim had revealed. He knew something about her father. He had known for some time.
And he hadn’t told her.
How did she wrap herself around that? Tim, more than anyone, had known how much finding her father meant to her.
Alex opened the locker but didn’t make a move to stash her phone. She stared at her neatly folded garments, the liquid relaxation of earlier little more than a memory.
Her mother “blamed him for Dylan.”
What did that mean? There were many reasons to place blame. For real sins-and imagined ones. Did that mean she thought he’d abducted him? If so, surely she would have gone to the police. A bad man, Tim had said. Really bad. A liar Alex had needed protection from.
Screw this, she decided. Relaxation was the last thing on her mind. Instead of stowing her cell phone, she grabbed her clothes and dressed.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Tuesday, March 16
4:30 P.M.
Tim had beat her back to the rental, Alex saw. His candy apple red Chrysler Sebring sat parked in front, top still down. She had tried him twice since leaving the Kenwood; both times she had been rolled over to voice mail and neither time did she leave a message.
She parked behind him, climbed out and hurried to the front door. She let herself in, then stopped, surprised. The small dining table had been set with white linen and china. A bottle of champagne sat chilling in a bucket, two flutes beside it.
Went for food. Help yourself to the bubbly.
P.S. Don’t be mad. I have news.
Alex stared at the setup, bemused. The man was nothing if not a suck-up. He knew she was mad and intended to coax her out of it. He’d even provided the opportunity for her to get started doing that without him.
She crossed to the champagne and poured a glass. She’d have a little surprise for Mr. Clarkson when he returned. No way was he going to wiggle off this particular hook.
She carried her wine out to the front porch to wait. And wait she did. Ten minutes became twenty, became thirty. Where was he? There were a number of good restaurants within walking distance. Which one had he chosen? She dialed his cell and found that he still hadn’t turned it back on.
She let her breath out in a short, frustrated huff. At this rate, she’d be drunk before he returned with the food.
No doubt, that was his plan. Tim didn’t like emotional scenes. That’s why he’d called when he had-thinking he’d leave a message and avoid the messiness of a face-to-face.
There would be no avoiding it, she thought. She would drill him until she knew every detail of what her mother had told him. She wanted the when and where, the date and the circumstances.
And she wanted to know how, under any circumstances, he could have thought it was okay to keep the information from her.
Wineglass empty, she stood and went for a refill.
Meowing, Margo darted out of the kitchen. “Hey, girl,” she said and scooped her up. Purring, the cat nuzzled her shoulder.
“Tim’s in big trouble, isn’t he?” she asked. “He’s a big traitor.”
Margo meowed again, leapt out of her arms and onto the linen-covered table. “Margo, no! Off the…”
The words died on her lips. Margo had left paw prints on the linen. Alex shifted her gaze to the wooden floor. A trail of prints led from the kitchen to where she stood. She lowered her gaze to her shirtfront. Her white, long-sleeved T was smeared with red.
Blood.
She stared at it with a growing sense of horror. And denial. No, wine. Margo had toppled an open bottle. She had done it before, while she and Tim had been married. Not blood, she thought again. Wine.
Blood wine. The sharp smell of sandalwood stung her nose. Her glass slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor and shattering. A thrumming filled her head. Light… flickering… blood…
A scream, high and terrified. Hers. She ran toward the kitchen, pushed through the door. She slipped, landing on her hands and knees in something. Blood, she saw.
She shifted her gaze. Tim. On the floor, on his back. Something shiny sticking out of his throat. Chopsticks, she saw. The ones he had given her.
She crawled the rest of the way to him, sobbing, praying it wasn’t too late. She placed her hands on his chest, over his heart. Nothing. She pressed her ear to the spot, then her fingers to his wrist.
Nothing… nothing… Dear God…
Alex backed up, sobbing, hysterical. She became aware of her own voice, her repeated pleas. She was covered with blood, she realized. It was everywhere. Her hands and hair. Her clothes.
No… no… Whimpering, she tried to rub it from her hands, but it only smeared more. Her fault, she thought. She’d brought Tim into this. If not for her-
What to do? She dug her phone out of her pocket, dialed 911.
“Help,” she whispered, when the dispatcher answered. “Please. Tim’s… he’s been… stabbed. I think he’s… Oh, my God, he’s dead!”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Tuesday, March 16
5:45 P.M.
When Reed arrived, Alex sat huddled on the floor, Margo on her lap. Her hands, face and clothes were stained with blood. She stared blankly ahead.
A deputy stood nearby. Reed met the man’s gaze with the briefest nod, then cr
ossed to Alex and squatted down in front of her. “Alex, honey. Are you okay?”
She blinked, as if seeing him for the first time. “Reed,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“You asked for me. When you called 911.”
Her gaze shifted to a point behind him. The kitchen, he thought. Location of the victim.
“He’s dead,” she said. “Tim’s dead.”
“Yes, I know. Are you all right?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No.”
He heard Tanner and Cal arriving. “I have work to do now, but I’ll be close by. If you need anything, including to talk to me, just ask Jim here.” He pointed to the deputy, who nodded in acknowledgment. “Jim will get it for you.”
Reed stood and exchanged another glance with the deputy. He understood his duty: do not let her out of his sight, even to go to the bathroom.
Cal had gone on to the kitchen to inspect the victim; Tanner waited behind for him. When he reached her side, she murmured, “This is complicated for you.”
“I know what I have to do.” He heard the edge in his voice and regretted it. He was the one who was out of line, not Tanner.
“Do you?”
She held his gaze. He worked to control a rush of anger. He wasn’t even certain who he was angry with-her, for questioning his professionalism; or himself, for being in this mess in the first place.
He leaned toward her. “Yes, dammit, I do. Just give me the chance to process the scene and question her, then I’m out.”
“Agreed.”
They moved into the kitchen, careful to step around a puddle of blood. The first responders had done their job: secured the scene, established the outer and inner perimeters and isolated the suspect.
Cal had already begun photographing the scene. The Coroner’s detective would take their own shots and would need to do it before the body was touched in any way.
“Coroner’s Office has been notified?” Reed asked the deputy standing watch.
“On their way.”
Reed nodded and signed the inner perimeter log. “What do you have so far?”
“Woman’s name is Alexandra Clarkson. The man was her ex-husband. When we arrived, she was hysterical. Babbling about finding him. I asked her about the blood. She said she ran to help him. That’s all she could remember.”
“Did she touch the body?” Tanner asked.
“Yes. Pressed her ear to his chest, then tried his pulse.”
“Throat or wrist?”
“Wrist.”
Reed shifted his attention to the scene. Judging by the amount of blood, whoever stuck him had hit the jugular. Blood would have literally shot out. Death would have come quickly, in a matter of a couple minutes.
The cottage was old and had settled to the northeast corner. The blood had sought the lowest point, pooling in front of the kitchen door. That would explain the prints, human and feline, that circled the area. It appeared as if both the cat and Alex had moved through it. On the floor near Clarkson’s head was one perfect imprint of a hand.
“He wasn’t a tall man,” Tanner commented. “Coroner will get an exact measurement, but I’m thinking five foot six, maybe seven?”
Reed pictured him from their meeting the night before, recalled he and Alex walking away and thinking he wasn’t taller than she was.
“That’d be my guess. Why?”
She shook her head. “No sign of a struggle.”
“Bottle of red open on the counter.”
“It’s a good one,” Cal said. “I already checked. “Seghesio Rock Pile Zin. It seems wrong to let it just go to waste.”
They ignored him and studied the bottle and two glasses on the counter beside it. One was full, the other empty.
Tanner leaned closer, carefully inspecting the full glass. “Looks like he filled this one, but didn’t drink from it.”
“He was pouring,” Reed murmured, “his assailant came from behind, reached around-”
“And planted the chopsticks neatly in his throat. Would’ve been messy.”
“Strike two against the pretty head case in the other room,” Cal offered.
Reed ignored that and squatted near the body, inspecting the wound. “Stainless steel chopsticks. Is that unusual?”
“Not really,” Tanner said. “They sell them a number of places, including the Sur la Table.”
He looked at her and she shrugged. “I was in the market. But I think I’ll pass now.”
They made their way out to the living area. Alex, Reed saw, hadn’t moved. Neither had Margo. The cat was busy cleaning herself.
The table in the dining alcove had been set for a romantic dinner for two. Reed experienced a quick jab of something he didn’t care to analyze.
“Watch it,” Tanner said, touching his arm. “Broken glass.”
He bent and inspected it. A broken champagne flute. It’d been empty-or nearly so-the floor around it dry.
“Take a look at this.”
Went for food. Help yourself to the bubbly.
P.S. Don’t be mad. I have news.
He and Tanner exchanged glances. A note from Clarkson to Alex? Or the other way around? One had been angry at the other. But why?
Time to find some answers. Wordlessly, they parted. Tanner would begin processing the scene for physical evidence and he would question Alex.
He asked the deputy to take notes of the interview. He wanted Alex to feel relaxed, like it was just the two of them talking, and his taking notes would get in the way of that. In addition, should it come to it, he didn’t want the information gathered to be tainted by his relationship to the suspect.
He sat on the floor in front of her, mirroring her Indian-style position. “Tell me what happened, Alex.” When she looked confused, he added, “How did your ex-husband end up dead?”
“Someone killed him. Stabbed him”-she touched her throat; he saw that her hand shook-“here.”
“Did you kill him, Alex?”
That penetrated her glassy-eyed shock. Her eyes widened. “No!” She shook her head as if for added emphasis. “I couldn’t… I found him like that.”
“Okay, sweetheart, take a deep breath. I need you to tell me exactly what transpired. Moment by moment.”
She did as he suggested and took several deep breaths, then began. “He had a faculty meeting this morning. At San Francisco State.”
“He’s a professor there?”
“Yes. He bought me a spa day… I wouldn’t have accepted it, but it was for my… birthday.”
“Is today your birthday?”
Her eyes filled with tears. Reed plucked a tissue from the box on the floor beside her. She took it and pressed it to her eyes. “Tomorrow.”
“What spa was it?”
“The Kenwood Inn.”
“Go on,” he said gently.
“I was there when he called me. I wasn’t supposed to have a phone… it’s the rules, but I’d slipped it in my robe pocket. I don’t know why. Instinct, maybe.”
She fell silent for a long moment. So long he was about to nudge her when she spoke again. “He was surprised when I answered, said he meant to leave a message. He said he”-she crumpled the tissue in her fist-“knew something about my… dad. My mother had told him… back when he and I were still together.”
She fell silent; he prodded her. “What did she tell him about him?”
Alex lifted her stricken gaze to his. “I could hardly hear! He was driving and the spa attendant…”
The convertible parked out front.
“I couldn’t believe he hadn’t told me before… all the time that’s passed. I could have known something, Reed.”
Her eyes filled once more, tears spilling over and rolling helplessly down her cheeks. He ignored the catch in his chest, denied the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her.
“He pro
mised he would tell me more tonight… and now-” She grabbed another tissue and blew her nose. “I was really pissed. So I left.”
“The spa?”
“Yes.”
“And you came here, looking for him. Angry?”
“Anxious,” she whispered, rubbing her arms. “I mean, I was hurt and mad that he had known something about my dad he’d kept a secret… but I couldn’t sit still.” She rubbed her arms.
“What happened next?”
“I got here. Saw his car. The whole dinner setup. Read the note.”
“What did you think when you saw the table and champagne?”
She shrugged. “You have to know Tim. He doesn’t like entanglements. Doesn’t like messy emotional scenes. I figured he was managing me.”
“What does that mean?”
“Predisposing me not to be mad anymore.”
“So he wrote the note.” She nodded and reached for another tissue. “He said he had news, Alex. What about?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any guesses?”
“With Tim, it could be anything. That he’d taken the week off to help me, or gotten acknowledged by the dean at the faculty meeting.”
“Both of those are about him, Alex. What about you?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Could he have had news for you? About your father?”
She stared at him as if she hadn’t considered the possibility before this moment. Apparently, her ex was an all-about-me sort of guy. “My God, I never… Do you think… Could he have?”
“What happened next?”
“I poured a glass of the champagne and went out front to wait.”
“How long were you out there?”
“Thirty minutes. Maybe a little longer.” She cleared her throat. “I’d finished my drink and come inside for a refill. Margo came along… she jumped into my arms. That’s when I… when I saw…”
She began to tremble. Her eyes widened and he knew she was reliving the moment.
“You can do this,” he said softly. “You are up to it, Alex.”
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