by Joanne Pence
He shook his head. “I wasn’t sure until last night.”
Richie waited, but Shay didn’t tell him which version of Salma he had decided was real. Richie knew he shouldn’t have expected an answer, but for Shay’s sake, he hoped it was the woman who loved him, not the bitter one that he had made walk away.
“And now,” Richie said, “she’s come back to you for help.”
He nodded. “We talked about Hannah, mostly. I won’t tell you that I did anything to help Salma, because you’d feel obligated to tell Mayfield. All I can say is that Salma found a way to get her wish to run off. And she did. Finally.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Rebecca wasn’t pleased at Richie asking her to leave Shay’s house, but she could tell there would be no meeting of the minds that day, and she really didn’t want to create a permanent rift between herself and Shay. She hoped, given enough time, she would be able to talk to him about Salma without feeling like a participant in a cage match.
She drove to A-1 Cleaners, the shop owned by Gebran Najjar. She wanted to see what it looked like, as well as to question Salma’s father.
A sign on the door said the shop was closed due to a death in the family, but if someone needed to pick up their dry cleaning, to ring the bell during the shop’s normal hours, 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. She rang the bell.
An older man answered. “Are you Salma Najjar’s father?” she asked, showing her badge.
“Yes.” He looked scared as she entered the shop and she couldn’t help but think he feared she had bad news about Salma.
“I’m Inspector Mayfield, Homicide. I’m looking into the death of Yussef Najjar. Your name is?”
Relief seemed to wash over him. She wasn’t used to people feeling relieved around her. It was rather nice, actually. “Zair Lahoud,” he said. Despite what Gebran had told her about his father-in-law’s English ability, the man seemed to have no trouble understanding her. He stepped behind the counter and she remained on the customer’s side.
“I’m sorry to say, Mr. Lahoud, that Yussef Najjar’s death is being looked as a murder investigation,” she told him. “I’d like to know if you saw anything suspicious around the time of Mr. Najjar’s disappearance.”
“I never saw anything suspicious. No, never.” He vigorously shook his head. “It was a long time ago. And, please, call me Zair.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, caught off guard by his friendly demeanor. “Did you believe Yussef had gone back to Lebanon?”
Zair waggled his head in a sort of “maybe yes, maybe no” manner. “Of course, I did. Although, I didn’t understand why he would want to go to such a place.”
“I’ve heard there were some men who fought with Yussef, and that they might have been friends with Gebran.”
“Hmm.” Zair looked puzzled. “I don’t remember Gebran having any close friends back then. Or now. Or anyone fighting with Yussef.”
“Did the brothers get along?”
“Of course, very well,” he announced loud and clear before adding, “Although, Gebran owns a business … and yet, he didn’t want Yussef to work for him. So maybe something was wrong between them.”
“Why didn’t he want Yussef working for him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t trust Yussef. You should ask him, not me.”
“I have,” Rebecca said. “What did you think of Yussef?”
Zair shrugged. “Everyone liked him. He was a nice fellow, of course. Although, he was not very happy. I didn’t like being around him.”
“How well do you get along with Gebran?” she asked.
“Very well, of course! Although, he is my boss, so sometimes that can be difficult. Mostly, I try to keep quiet, keep him happy.” Zair shrugged again.
Rebecca was finding this entire conversation peculiar—the emphatically positive answers followed by an “although” with a negative revelation. She knew which part of the answers to believe.
“Are you close to Salma?” she asked, finally broaching the subject that most interested her.
“Oh, yes. She is a good daughter, a good mother, and wife.”
“Did she have a good relationship with Yussef?”
“With Yussef? I suspect so. I don’t know.”
“What about her mother-in-law, Fairuz? Did the two get along?”
For the first time, Zair stopped smiling. “Fairuz was not an easy woman. Very bossy.” He sighed. “Salma is a good girl. She didn’t fight with her, but tried to keep peace in the family.”
“I see. And has your daughter returned home yet?” Rebecca asked.
Zair looked stricken, then dropped his gaze. “Returned home? I don’t understand.”
“You know she’s gone. Gebran contacted you looking for her,” she said. Zair blanched at her words. She had only been guessing, but was pretty sure it was a good guess.
“Don’t lie to me,” she warned. “Where is Salma?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where might she be hiding?”
“Truly, I have no idea.” He kept his eyes downcast. He was most likely lying, and would continue to do so as long as he believed his lies would keep his daughter safe.
Rebecca changed her tactic. “What about the children? Who’s taking care of them?”
“Gebran will do it until she returns.”
“You think she’ll return?”
He looked at her directly. “She was frightened—by you! Or, that is what Gebran told me. But she has done nothing wrong, so she will return to her home and children. It would kill her not to see them.”
Rebecca turned away, hoping the man’s emotions would calm a bit. As she looked around the shop, she noticed a camera and quite a few locks on the door. “This isn’t the safest area,” she said, facing him again. “What kind of protection do you keep here?”
Zair blanched. “We call the police, of course.”
“Although…” Rebecca prompted, “until they arrive, you must have something…”
He looked quite uncomfortable. “I don’t—”
“Show me.”
“But—”
“Where is it?” she asked sternly.
He bit his bottom lip, then walked over to the cash register and reached under it. He held up a Glock with two fingers, making it clear he wasn’t threatening her. “Is this what you want?”
“Is it registered?” she asked.
“I’m sure it is. Gebran’s mother bought it when the boys were young. Fairuz was alone, and the neighborhood wasn’t so good twenty years ago. She was a tough woman.”
Rebecca took the gun and placed it in a plastic dry-cleaning bag. “It needs to be tested. Depending on the results, it will either be quickly returned to you or put into evidence.” She handed him her card. “Call me if you think of anything to add, or if you hear from your daughter.”
“Yes,” he said with a slight bow of the head. “Thank you, Miss Inspector. I will, of course.”
And pigs fly, she thought as she walked out the door.
o0o
Rebecca took the gun to the Crime Scene Investigations Unit laboratory to be tested. They had possession of the bullet found in the dirt near Yussef Najjar’s body, but they hadn’t been able to match it up to any known handguns.
As the CSIU checked the Glock 26 against the bullet, Rebecca looked up the Dealers Record of Purchase, and found that Fairuz Najjar had lawfully purchased the gun. It surprised her that the woman had bought herself a gun—it wasn’t a common thing for women in San Francisco to do.
“You did it,” Inspector Alejandro Pacheco called out as Rebecca reentered CSIU. “The bullet came from this gun.”
“Thanks, Al,” Rebecca said. “I appreciate your fast action.”
Back in Homicide, Rebecca sat back and tried to think this through. She understood there must have been a strong relationship between Shay and Salma, and she could understand Shay trying to mislead her investigation away from Salma because of it. She could also see Gebran being involve
d in a bad way in this situation. Everyone praised his work ethic, but no one praised him as a loving, supporting husband.
Yussef, on the other hand, had worked in a carpet warehouse in San Mateo. He lived in a tiny apartment and drove an old car. Nothing of interest or note had shown up in his finances.
Why, then, did anyone want him dead?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Since the gun used in Yussef’s murder had been accessible to all members of the Najjar household, and since the family had lied to the police when they said he went to Lebanon, Rebecca and Sutter were granted a warrant to search Gebran Najjar’s home and business. In addition, the fact that Salma Najjar was the last person to have seen Fairuz alive, had attacked Rebecca when she tried to question her, and now seemed to have disappeared, Lt. Eastwood also authorized an autopsy on Fairuz.
Evelyn quickly handled it. She found that Fairuz had been smothered. Her mouth, throat and nasal passages contained particles common in the pillows and pillowcases used by the nursing home.
Rebecca now had the proof she needed for a convincing argument that Salma had in fact killed her. But why? And did that mean she also had killed Yussef? There was some key, some element, she was missing. But what?
Rebecca was more troubled than ever by Shay’s involvement. She had her differences with him, but she couldn’t imagine him as someone willing to lie to protect a murderer. In her experience, Shay simply didn’t lie. But now, she was certain he had. Was it love? Loyalty? Or something more?
Rebecca and Sutter went with a team of CSI detectives to the Najjar home to search for anything that might point to Yussef or Fairuz’s murders, or to a motive for the murders. As the team went through the house, Sutter asked Gebran if he had heard anything from Salma. He swore he still didn’t know where his wife was, and had heard nothing.
“Have you asked your children? Maybe they have some idea,” Rebecca suggested. “They’re old enough. They might have heard something.”
“The boy is twelve, the girl eight.” Gebran said. He didn’t look happy about her request, but after a moment stated, “I’ll get them.”
He had the two children march into the room and stand before the two detectives. They seemed frightened, and both kept their heads bowed.
“Do you know where your mother is?” Gebran asked.
They shook their heads.
“Did you hear her say anything about where she was going?” he asked.
Same response.
“What are their names?” Rebecca asked Gebran.
“Adam and Hannah.”
Rebecca faced the boy. “Adam, when did you last see your mother?”
“In the morning when I went to school,” he murmured, still staring at the floor.
“Hannah, what about you?”
The girl looked up at Rebecca. Rebecca couldn’t help but stare a moment at her large blue eyes … blue with a hint of lavender circling the irises. She had seen eyes like that before, and suddenly everything made sense to her.
“I last saw my mother when she walked me to the bus stop,” Hannah said. Her voice was tiny but her words distinct. “She patted my head like she always does, and told me to be sure to eat the cookies she packed in my lunch, and that she gave me an extra one so I could share it with Bethany, if I wanted. But only if I wanted.” Tears filled the girl’s eyes, and this time she scarcely whispered. “I haven’t seen her since then.”
Rebecca swallowed hard, and her words were also merely a whisper. “I see, thank you.” With that, still somewhat shaken by her realization about Hannah, Rebecca looked up at Gebran. “While we conduct the search, you might want to take the children out for ice cream or something. We’ll lock up when we’re done.”
“I guess so.” He glared at her, Sutter, and the children, then folded his arms. “Get your coats,” he said gruffly. “We’re going out.”
o0o
As soon as a Rebecca could get away from Homicide that evening, she called Richie to make sure he was home, and said, “Wait for me there.” She stopped only long enough to pick up her phoned-in order from their favorite Chinese restaurant. She realized that thinking in terms of “their” favorite rather than “his” or “hers” was another of those big steps that she kept saying she wasn’t ready to take, but at the same time, it felt good.
She also felt good about the way Richie had stepped up to take care of her when Salma Najjar knocked her down the stairs. She could have been badly hurt or even killed. Nice woman you found for yourself, Shay, she thought. Given the friendships involved, this situation was a nightmare.
“Here I am,” she said waving the bags of food when Richie opened his front door.
“Not a minute too soon. It smells great!” Richie said. They spread the food out on the kitchen table, and Richie made a pot of oolong tea.
She didn’t want to upset his dinner too much, but he had only taken a couple of bites when she said, “I can’t hold it in a minute longer. I found out why Shay is so willing to help Salma Najjar.”
“You did?” Richie asked nonchalantly.
She nodded. “Salma’s daughter is his child. I’ve never seen anyone with eyes quite like his until this afternoon. They were startling. Also, something about the shape of her mouth reminded me of Shay. But then the kicker was when I asked a simple little question, she gave me a such a precise answer, she sounded exactly like guess who? And she’s only eight.”
Richie smiled broadly at her tale. “So she really is his kid.”
“Don’t tell me you already knew?”
“I just found out this morning. Shay just found out himself. By the way, I’m pretty sure he helped Salma get out of the country, although he’d never admit it.”
Rebecca nearly choked on a bite of eggroll. “He helped her? That’s illegal. She’s wanted for murder!”
“I didn’t say he helped her, and neither did he. Let’s say he assumes she’s out of the country. How’s that? She’s not his problem, after all. He had nothing to do with any of this.”
“Richie, you can’t just—”
“I’m not doing a thing. In fact, Shay’s assumption could be wrong. Maybe you and Sutter should continue to look for her. After all, what does Shay know about any of this?” His blathering told her he knew a lot more than he would ever admit, but she had no proof. “Intuition” wasn’t a legal finding.
“Anyway, I’ll tell you what I do know,” he continued. “I know that if Shay thinks she’s a good woman and doesn’t deserve to be jailed for the rest of her life, I’ll go along with him.”
“It’s not for you or Shay to decide.”
“I’m just saying.” He twirled some chow mein noodles in a circle as if they were spaghetti then picked them up with his chopsticks. She tried not to let him distract her.
“I have no choice but to look for her,” Rebecca insisted. “And if I find her, to arrest her, no matter what you, Shay, or even I might think about the situation.”
Richie put down the chopsticks. “Right. And there are consequences for murdering someone. Horrible consequences.” His tone was hard as ice. “Shay understands that as well. I only hope, Rebecca, it doesn’t come to what you’re suggesting.”
They continued with dinner, although to Rebecca, at this point it could have been cardboard.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Rebecca ran her hands through her hair as she sat at her desk the next morning and tried to figure out what to do next about Salma Najjar. She was in the wind and Rebecca knew why.
Last evening, Richie had told her the story of Shay and Salma’s affair, but nothing about Yussef’s murder. Still, Rebecca was quite certain that Salma was the killer, and that the men who loved her had done all they could to protect her. If she ever did establish Salma as Yussef’s murderer, she feared she could arrest not only Salma, but her father and Shay as accomplices.
Rebecca cared about Shay, and the thought that he had a daughter he hadn’t known about added to the sympathy she felt for him. Give
n his quirky, loner personality, she couldn’t imagine how he was handling such news. She also wondered how he was going to cope with his daughter being raised by someone like Gebran Najjar, who might have serious doubts about the girl’s paternity if information about Shay’s involvement became known.
That poor child.
After speaking with Lt. Eastwood, an all-points bulletin had been issued on Salma, and the Najjar home, her father’s apartment, Shay’s house, and the dry cleaning shop were all under surveillance. All Rebecca could do was wait.
In the meantime, she realized Shay must have been so caught up in his own situation he hadn’t had much time to look into Richie’s. She found it ironic that Richie was trying to come up with who was responsible, if anyone, for the death of a woman he loved, and at the same time, his best friend was trying to work out how to help a woman he loved escape the ramifications of killing others.
Rebecca felt caught in the middle. There was nothing she could do to help Shay. If anything, her involvement only made it worse.
As she was pondering this she received a call from Rachel Swann, a deputy sheriff in Phoenix, Arizona.
A few days earlier, as Rebecca tried to track down Isabella’s assistant loan officer, Cory Egerton, she discovered the name was an alias. His real name was Colin Sigurdson, and Sigurdson was incarcerated in the Arizona State Prison for second-degree murder in the killing of his partner in a scheme to blackmail several rich businessmen. Rebecca had immediately contacted Deputy Swann, saying she was working on a cold case and the man she knew as Cory Egerton potentially had some information she needed. Swann had agreed to allow Rebecca to hold a meeting with the prisoner as long as he had an attorney present. Rebecca had flown to Phoenix, but Egerton had refused to cooperate.
Now, however, Deputy Swann was calling with new information.
“I couldn’t help but feel,” Swann said, “that the prisoner you call Cory Egerton knows a lot more than he was saying the last time you were here. Right now, I think there may have a way to get him to talk to you. He’s been giving us trouble and has had a number of privileges taken away. But he loves the Internet, and I think if he cooperates with you, we might just let him go use a computer again. He’s no dummy, Inspector, and I know he enjoys seeing what’s going on in the world even if it’s only on the limited Internet access that we allow prisoners.”