Shadow of Doubt (A Kali O'Brien legal mystery)

by Jonnie Jacobs

  “I got you that box of Eddie’s records and everything, didn’t I? It wasn’t easy going through that stuff, you know.”

  I looked over my shoulder at the carton in the back seat. There hadn’t been time for more than a quick glance at the files, but from what I’d seen, she’d done a thorough job of pulling things together. What was really eating at me, I realized, wasn’t simply her passivity; it was the fact that I didn’t honestly know that I believed her anymore.

  I pulled over to the shoulder, stopped the car, and apologized. Then I got out, went into the 7-Eleven across the street and bought two cans of Coke. I held mine to my neck and savored the sensation of cool metal against my sticky skin. After a moment, I took a long, slow swallow.

  “We need to talk,” I told Jannine, who had opened her can and then done nothing but stare at it. “This probably isn't the best time for it, but I can’t do anything more to help you until we do.”

  Her fingers traced the letters on the side of the can.

  “I talked with Benson yesterday.”

  She bit her lower lip and focused all of her efforts on the letter “O.” Slow, concentric circles. “I can tell from your tone it isn’t good.”

  “He says you got your car washed Saturday afternoon. "

  “That’s a crime?”

  “Under the circumstances, he finds it suspicious. Any car that had been down by the South Fork would show traces of dust.”

  She swallowed hard as recognition dawned. “I hadn’t had it washed in months,” she protested. “It needed it.”

  “Benson also told me you and Eddie had an argument Saturday morning.”

  Jannine nodded. “I told you about that.”

  “You told me you had a bit of a spat. That’s different than a fight so heated the neighbors could hear you through closed doors.”

  “How did he find out about that?” Her voice sounded hollow.

  “From one of the neighbors.”

  “Probably Mrs. Willard. She’s the neighborhood busybody. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had binoculars, too.” At least Jannine had looked up and met my gaze.

  “What was the fight about?”

  “You know, everyday stuff.”

  “Give me some examples.”

  Her eyes shifted back to the Coke.

  “Mrs. Willard, or whoever it was, said you threw a vase and told Eddie he was going to get what he had coming.”

  “What is this, the Inquisition?” The words may have been sharp, but there was nothing sharp about Jannine’s voice. It was thin and broken.

  “If I’m going to help you, I need to know what happened.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Jannine?”

  She pulled in a long breath. “I had an abortion,” she said, addressing the soda can. “And I didn’t even tell Eddie I was pregnant.” She let the breath out slowly and looked at me. “He wanted a son so bad, he would have kept me having babies forever. But I just couldn’t go through all that again. I want to go back to school and finish my degree. I want to do something with my life, be someone in my own right. I should have gone on the pill, but I was afraid Eddie would find out, so I just kind of tried to work around the fertile days. My period’s always been regular as clockwork, so it was pretty easy.”

  I don’t think I said anything, but something in my expression must have shrieked loud and clear.

  “I know,” Jannine said. “It’s the kind of thing a feather-brained teenager would say, but sometimes I think that’s about where my mental development stopped. Anyway, Eddie was going through the stack of bills. He’d never paid the least attention to them before, but I guess he wanted to check on something . . . and he found the invoice.”

  “This was Saturday morning?”

  She nodded.

  “So you had a big fight, and he stomped out of the house.”

  “Not exactly. We yelled and screamed for awhile until the kids came downstairs. Then we didn’t talk. Eddie puttered in the garage while I cleaned up around the house. About eleven, he came into the laundry room to tell me he had to go out. That was it. He didn’t say good-bye or when he’d be back or where he was going, just ‘I’m going out for a bit.’ ”

  “That was after he got the telephone call, right?”

  She nodded. “But I can’t say for sure there’s any connection.”

  “He apparently stopped by school. Any idea why?”

  “No. That’s not unusual, though.” A smile appeared, then vanished. “Football is more than a sport, remember. It’s a way of life.”

  I swished the soda around in my half-empty can, thinking.

  “Jannine, I have to tell you something I’ve learned. Something unpleasant. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think I needed to.”

  Jannine had stopped tracing the letters on her own can, and had begun rolling it between her palms instead. Brown froth trickled down the side of the can and dribbled onto her lap.

  “Eddie never spent nights at the tavern. The upstairs apartment is rented to one of the bartenders, a young man who swears Eddie never slept there. In fact, he says Eddie wasn’t around much at all.” I spoke slowly, making my voice as gentle as possible, then waited for the rush of raw emotion.

  Jannine’s response wasn’t what I expected. She looked me level in the eye for a moment, then dropped her gaze. “I know,” she mumbled.

  “You know?"

  “Going to the tavern was the excuse he used when he would spend the night with Vicky.”

  “You knew he was seeing another woman?”

  She nodded. “I found out about a month ago.” The words came out slowly, with effort. “They say the wife is always the last to know, right? We had a big scene. I’m sure Mrs. Willard was in seventh heaven listening to us. Eddie swore it was over; he said he loved me and didn’t know what had gotten into him. He actually cried, Kali, and begged me to forgive him.”

  “And you did?”

  “I forgave him. Part of me even understood. But I was having a devil of a time forgetting.”

  “Who was she?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I thought Jannine had to be pretty addled not to see it. “A scorned lover has the classic motive for murder,” I told her. “At the very least, it will give the police someone else to nose around after.”

  Jannine turned to look at me again. “Vicky didn’t kill him,” she said.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Oh God, Kali, this is so sordid.” She squeezed the can between her hands. “I’m sure, because I followed her that afternoon.”

  “You mean you didn’t go to the mall?” I thought of the afternoon I’d wasted parading through shops, talking myself hoarse.

  “I did start for the mall. I was upset about my fight with Eddie, angry with myself for a whole list of things, and I just wanted to get away. You know, wander aimlessly and blend in. But there was something about the way Eddie looked at me when he left . . .” She shrugged lamely. “I started thinking maybe it wasn’t over with Vicky after all. That maybe I’d been a bigger fool than I thought and sent him right back into her arms. So instead of going to the mall, I drove to her house and sat outside in the goddamn car eating candy bars and playing like Kinsey Millhone. Only I was crying so hard I went through more tissues in five hours than she probably does in a whole year.”

  “You’re sure this Vicky was home?”

  Jannine nodded. “She came out to check the mail right after I got there.”

  “When was that?”

  “A little after noon.”

  “And she never left?”

  “Not until later. About six o’clock some guy pulled up in one of those customized trucks with rows of spotlights across the roof. He honked, and they drove off. By that time I felt like such a jerk, I went by the carwash just so the day wouldn’t end up being a total waste. And then I went to my mom’s.”

  Jannine looked over to gage my reaction, then turned back to her Coke can. “I told you
it was sordid. Now maybe you can understand why I wanted to keep it to myself. I’m sorry about the mall though, really. I tried to tell you it would be a waste.”

  My head was spinning, trying to sort this new information into neat little piles. So far it all fit. Not that it would hold much water with Benson. “If you knew Eddie wasn’t with Vicky, why weren’t you worried when he never came home that night?”

  “I really expected he’d be there waiting for us when we got back from Mom’s. And then when he wasn’t, my imagination started in again. Maybe he’d been there at Vicky’s all afternoon, and the guy with the truck was just her brother or something. Maybe he was seeing someone new. Maybe he was so angry with me he’d just walked out for good. It sounds weird now, but at the time I’d worked myself into a real snit.”

  We sat for a moment, neither of us speaking. Jannine went back to squeezing her soda can, sending another cloud of fizz cascading over the side and onto my lovely leather upholstery.

  Finally Jannine said, “The thought of losing him was more than I could bear. I spent all Saturday night rehearsing exactly what I was going to say when he came home, how I was going to convince him to give me another chance.” Her voice faltered. “But he never showed up. The police came instead.”

  My can was empty. I crushed it with my fist. “Is there anything else you’ve neglected to tell me?”

  She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have told you the whole truth in the beginning, but it’s just so . . . so embarrassing.”

  I thought that being embarrassed paled in comparison to finding yourself a prime suspect in the murder of your husband. In the end, though, it didn’t really matter. The truth was as hard to substantiate as the fabrication. Assuming we’d finally reached the truth.

  I squeezed her hand, which was now damp and sticky. “You have no reason to be embarrassed,” I told her. “Human nature isn’t the tidiest force in the universe.”

  In return, she gave me a weak smile. “So what are you going to do now?”

  “I guess I’ll start by going through that box of stuff you got together for me. And I’ll probably pay Benson another visit.”

  “You’re not giving up on me then?”

  “Oh, come on, you know me better than that.”

  I took Jannine’s can, which hadn’t once touched her lips, and emptied it onto the asphalt. Then I crushed it and deposited both cans in the overflowing trash bin outside the 7-Eleven. Sticky upholstery or not, my car was still new, and I wasn’t about to let it become the littered heap my old VW had been.

  “By the way,” Jannine said as we pulled onto the road, “if you find anything in Eddie’s papers having to do with the tavern, would you set them aside? George asked me about them just this afternoon. He’s got a meeting with his accountant or something and wants to make sure his records are complete.”

  I made some noncommittal response. My mind was busy trying to align the pieces of the puzzle. I wondered again whether George had wanted the tavern enough to kill for it.

  Chapter 15

  Loretta met me at the door with her usual tail-thwacking enthusiasm. I started to make excuses — I was too hot, too tired, too grumpy, but she was having none of it. She followed me into the kitchen, alternately dancing a freeform jig, then sitting tight like the star pupil in obedience class.

  “All right already,” I grumbled, “we’ll go for a walk, but I have a few phone calls to make first.”

  Walk was the operative word here; Loretta went berserk. I grabbed a handful of Kibbles and tossed them onto the floor to keep her occupied while I placed a call to Lawrence Simpson, attorney-at-law.

  He was in, and willing to talk to me. But as the saying goes, willingness and a quarter will buy you a cup of coffee. At least he was able to confirm that Eddie was going to purchase Susie’s share and become half-owner of The Mine Shaft. The papers had all been drawn up and were to have been signed that week.

  “And George Marrero was willing to go along with it?” I asked.

  “He didn’t have a lot of choice.”

  “He was upset then?”

  “No, not really. As I understand it, he’d originally wanted to keep the place to himself, but by the time I got involved, he seemed resigned to the fact he wasn’t going to be able to.”

  “Did he say why he wanted the whole thing?”

  “Not that I recall. Makes sense, though. A guy’s been his own boss for a number of years, I can see where it might be kind of unpleasant to have a new partner.”

  “What about Eddie? He was pretty determined himself.”

  There was a laugh on the other end. “That he was. Reminded me of myself when I first got out of law school. Heavy on theory and vision, and short on practical knowhow. He was busting at the seams to give it a go, though.”

  “Where was he getting the money?”

  “Beats me. It never seemed to be an issue. Sorry I can’t be more help. The only thing I did was draw up the papers. They already had matters pretty much worked out between themselves.”

  I left my name and number in case he thought of anything else, then dialed Sara Stewart. She answered the phone herself, on the first ring.

  “Ah, you’re there,” I chided. “I was afraid maybe you hadn’t rolled in yet.”

  “It was a hot date, but not that hot. In fact, I’ve been here waiting for your call since ten o’clock this morning.”

  “Sorry, I got tied up at a funeral.”

  "Another one?”

  “I know. It’s not something I hope to make a habit of, believe me. Do you have time to talk?”

  While I kicked off my shoes and peeled my pantyhose from my sticky skin, Sara filled me in on the firm’s woes. The last year had been even less profitable than expected, and this was on top of several already tight years. The client base was down, receivables were up, and one of our major outstanding accounts had gone into bankruptcy. The bottom line was that there would be no new partners in the foreseeable future. No promises of partnership and no bonuses, either.

  “They’ve even done away with the morning donut and coffee tray,” Sara sniffed.

  “Do you think they’ll start laying people off?”

  “That’s certainly been the pattern at other firms. For now, there’s nothing but a lot of closed doors and long faces. And enough rumors to launch a tabloid. Mr. Goldman has been holed up in his office all week, won’t talk to any of us. He even canceled tomorrow morning’s staff meeting. Nobody really knows how bad it is because the partners aren’t talking.”

  My stomach twisted into a knot. I’d had friends who’d been down this road. It wasn’t easy to find a new job in a tight market, particularly as a senior associate.

  “Heck,” Sara said, “you have a direct line to the inside. What does Ken have to say?”

  “We haven’t really had a chance to talk, what with my being away and all.”

  “You mean the phone lines have been down or something?” she asked.

  Sara has never been particularly fond of Ken, and she gets her jabs in where she can. There were times I thought she might be closer to calling it right than I was. But there were also times I was certain she was wrong.

  “It’s a difficult position for him,” I added, out of fairness to Ken. “A lot of what goes on among the partners is confidential.”

  Sara snorted. Her point made, she changed the subject, and we spent the next ten minutes catching up on less weighty matters. We even found things, to laugh about, but the knot in my stomach stayed tight

  By the time Loretta and I actually made it out the door, the air had already turned brisk. The sky was a shimmery, indigo blue, fading at the western edge to crimson. In the distance, the trees were a black silhouette, as though they’d been painted flat against the sky. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the fresh scent of mountain grass and wild mustard weed, and silently thanked Loretta for talking me into a walk.

  I’d placed classified ads in the local p
aper, listing my father’s truck and power tools, but I’d somehow neglected to run the “Free to good home” blurb about Loretta. I’d have to make sure, when I did, to mention how much she liked getting out for walks.

  We cut across the open field and down to Sycamore, where a wide dirt path runs by the side of the road. Loretta trotted along, sticking her nose into cracks and crevices. At one point, she caught a ground squirrel by surprise and started after him, only to stop a few steps later. She was getting fat no doubt about it. I was going to have to cut down on her Kibble, or she’d soon be too wide to fit through the doggy door. Then I sucked in my stomach and made a similar promise to myself.

  I hadn’t been paying much attention to where we were headed, and I was surprised to find myself passing by the foot of Tom’s long driveway. It wasn’t the path I’d intended to take. I gave some thought to stopping off to thank him again for last night’s dinner. Then I caught myself grinning. Okay, so I wouldn’t. Even Miss Manners would probably say that a personal visit for such a purpose was overkill.

  But as I was turning to leave, Tom pulled up.

  “Hey,” he said, “fancy meeting you here.”

  “I was walking the dog,” I explained. Loretta did her part to corroborate this.

  “Come up and have a drink with me.”

  I hesitated. The drink sounded good, especially after my conversation with Sara. But there was something about Tom that piqued my interest in ways I didn’t want to consider just then. All in all, I thought it better to decline.

  “Come on,” he nudged, “just a quick one. I’ve got to leave for a meeting in about forty minutes anyway.” He shut the door of the truck with a hearty thud. “Cub Scout night.”

  I tried to picture the rowdy and rakish Tom I remembered teaching eight-year-old boys to weave potholders and wash behind their ears. It was enough to make me chuckle. But it also, oddly, warmed my heart. “Okay,” I said, following him into the house. “A quick one.”

  “Beer okay?” Tom asked. He removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. “I’ve got wine if you’d prefer.”

  “Beer’s fine.”

  He rolled up his sleeves, dug out some chips and salsa, and then opened two bottles of Anchor Steam. We sat on deck chairs in an unfinished room at the back of the house. The decor wasn’t much, but the view of the valley at sunset was spectacular.