What She Left (Martina Monroe Book 1)

by H K Christie

  Detective Hirsch said, “No, thank you.”

  “Some water would be great. Thank you,” I said, before taking a seat. I glanced over at Mr. Bernard. He had worked a lot when we were young and wasn’t home much. Sandy, on the other hand, was Miss Suzy Homemaker. She baked and cooked dinner every night.

  Sandy returned with a glass of water and sat across from Hirsch and I.

  He nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Bernard, as I mentioned in my last visit and on the phone, we are reopening Donna’s case. As of right now, we haven’t made a lot of progress. The only news I have for you is that Martina and I are joining forces to investigate the case together. In case you didn’t know, Martina is a private investigator with a very prestigious firm in San Francisco. She’s at the top of her field and is known for getting results. I’m feeling pretty fortunate that she’s helping us out. And I know Martina is pretty invested in this, too.” He paused and surveyed the room. He nodded and continued. “I’m going to be straight with you. My current focus is on the homicide investigation next door.”

  Sandy gasped. “Theo was murdered?”

  Hirsch nodded. “Yes, it was determined by the medical examiner. One thing that stands out to me about Mr. Gilmore’s murder was that it was just two weeks after we reopened Donna’s case. I’m not sure if you remember this, or not, but both Mr. Gilmore and his daughter, Kennedy, witnessed somebody on the levee with Donna that night. The Gilmores said it was dark and couldn’t make out who she was with, but she was definitely with somebody. We’re trying to determine if there’s maybe a connection between his murder and Donna’s disappearance. Do you recall if it was one of you who was with her that night on the levee, it would’ve been around ten thirty in the evening? It doesn’t say so in your statements, but we need to confirm this and rule out anyone who was living with you at the time.”

  “The last time I saw my daughter was when she left with Martina to go to the Boathouse,” Mr. Gilmore stated.

  Sandy said, “That was the last time I ever saw her too.”

  “Could it have been one of her brothers?” I asked.

  “The boys were at their grandparents’ house that weekend.”

  “Okay, thank you. It’s been a long time, and we just wanted to confirm.”

  “It wasn’t one of us who was with her.” Sandy reached for the arm of her husband. “I can’t believe there was somebody with her that night, right here in our front yard.”

  “The police never told you that?” I asked.

  “No.”

  Darn shoddy police work. I composed myself and looked ahead at the Bernards. “Another thing that they didn’t do after her disappearance was look at her financials or her bank accounts, but that is something that we can do this time. I remember she had a pretty generous allowance that last year. Do you recall how much it was that you gave her each week?”

  Mr. Bernard and Sandy exchanged glances. “Donna didn’t receive an allowance.”

  No allowance? I distinctly remembered her telling me she had an allowance. She always had cash when we went out and had been very generous with her money, offering to pay for dinners and gas. She’d told me it was ‘no biggie’ since it was her parent’s money.

  “And she never had a part-time job that I can remember. Did she do any odd jobs around the neighborhood?”

  “No, she didn’t work any jobs. You should know that - you two were as thick as thieves back then.”

  I scratched the back of my head, trying to make sense of what they’re saying. Where was her money coming from? How did she have money to go out or buy clothes? That summer, we went out every night. She always had money. She said that her parents had increased her allowance. “So you’re saying she never had an allowance? Did you ever just give her spending money?”

  “No. The kids only received allowance if they did all of their chores. Donna wasn’t big on chores.”

  My gut was stirring. Donna had a secret source of income that she had lied to me about. She had lied to me, her best friend. Why? What was it she had felt she couldn’t tell me? And who was she on the levee with that night?

  19

  Detective Hirsch

  I typed up the last of the notes on Theodore Gilmore’s family, friends, and acquaintances. Basically, anybody who crossed paths with him over the years and that his daughter knew about. I glanced back over at Kennedy from my computer, who sat quietly with her hands in her lap. She hadn’t shed any tears during our interview today, but her slumped posture and slowed speech gave away the fact that she was grieving deeply.

  “Thank you, Ms. Gilmore. I think this will definitely help the case along. There is another case I’d like to ask you about. It was a long time ago, but I’d like to ask you about your witness statement regarding the last time you saw Donna Bernard. If you’re up for it?”

  “I’m up for it. I’d like to help however I can.”

  She was a tough woman to have gone through so much loss in such a short amount of time yet be able to answer questions and keep a level head. She was remarkable. “Great, it could actually help your father’s case.”

  Her eyes widened. “Do you think Donna’s disappearance may be connected to my father’s murder?”

  I slid the Bernard binder in front of me and flipped it open to the Gilmore statements. “We’re checking out all angles right now. In your statement, you and your father both said that you saw Donna out on the levee that last night around 10:30 PM.” I pointed to the statement. “It says here you couldn’t make out who it was, but that it was somebody who was taller than Donna. Do you remember any more details from that night?”

  “That’s all it says? I remember it pretty well. We’d been celebrating my mother’s birthday. It was a pleasant night out so we sat on the back deck. My father and I were cleaning up when we spotted Donna and the other person.”

  “It was dark, right? What alerted you to the fact Donna was there with someone?”

  She picked up the bottle of water and took a gulp. “Well, it’s pretty quiet out on the Delta at night. Especially that late. I heard the crunch of gravel and voices.”

  “Do you remember anything specific about the voices? High? Low? Male or female?”

  “I recognized Donna and her voice. She was wearing a white top. I’d seen her earlier wearing the same thing. The other voice was deeper, like a male.”

  I tapped more notes into my computer. “Do you remember anything else about this person? Like height, weight, or coloring?”

  “He was a little taller than Donna. He must’ve had darker skin and darker hair since I couldn’t see him very well as opposed to Donna, who had light hair and fair skin. She showed up a bit more in the dark.”

  “Could the other person have been African-American?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Maybe Latino or Italian. They had tan or olive skin with dark hair.”

  How on Earth had this not been recorded in her original statement? “Could you hear what they were saying or if it was an argument or a friendly conversation?”

  “No, their voices were muffled, like they were trying to be quiet. They must have spotted us. I couldn’t make out what they were saying.”

  “Did you see them leave?”

  “No, we cleaned up the dishes and locked up for the night. They were still out there when I shut the door.”

  “This is very helpful, Kennedy. Thank you, again.”

  “I still don’t see how this could be connected to my father’s murder.”

  “Well, we just reopened the Donna Bernard case and your father was one of the last people to see her and whomever she was with. It’s possible that person she was with found out we’d reopened the case and were trying to silence him.”

  Kennedy stiffened. “If that’s the case, then I’m a target too.”

  She had gotten there fast. She was sharp. “If it’s true, then yes, you could be in danger.”

  She fidgeted in her seat. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  “Until we
can rule out the Bernard connection, I’m going to request a patrol unit be put on your apartment. Or is there someone you can stay with?”

  “I have some friends, but I also have a cat, so I prefer to be in my own home.”

  “Okay, why don’t you stay put and I’ll go speak to my sergeant. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if my supervisor was going to go for this plan or not. It was going to take some luck to use taxpayer dollars to have a patrol watch an apartment building all night and day. We may have to pull in favors from SFPD. I wasn’t sure if I was the guy to get those favors. I approached Sarge’s door and knocked lightly. He glanced up from his readers. “What’s up, Hirsch?”

  I explained the situation to him and requested a round-the-clock patrol on her apartment building in San Francisco.

  Sarge removed his glasses and set them on the desk. “Do you have any friends in patrol over at SFPD?”

  “Maybe - depends on if my old LT has been playing nice or not.”

  “I’m afraid he may not be. Look, why don’t you put in a few calls. If that doesn’t lead us anywhere, I’ll make a few calls and see what I can do. Let them know that you have my full backing on this.”

  “Thanks, Sarge.” I headed back to my desk and dialed the number to the SFPD. I held my breath as the line rang. “San Francisco Police Department. How may I direct your call?”

  I recognized Maria’s gravelly voice immediately. “Lieutenant Tippin, please.”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Detective Hirsch.”

  “Hirsch, how are you? How’s the Sheriff’s department treating you? Hopefully, better than old baldy did.”

  The riff between my hairless LT and I was no secret at the station. “It’s going well. It’s a nice change of scenery. How are you?”

  “Same old, same old over here, but I’m all right. I’ll put you right through.”

  Lt. Tippin was an outstanding leader of the SWAT and special operations teams. Our paths crossed a few times when we were taking down the bad guys. Tippin was known for being good police and for always doing the right thing and not just what the brass demanded. Part of me thought maybe I should’ve transferred over to his group, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was a detective through and through.

  “Hirsch, how the heck are you?”

  “I’m doing all right, sir. I’m working a case out here on the Delta with the daughter of a murder victim. It’s a bit of a complicated situation.” I described the case, including Martina Monroe’s role and investigation into Charlotte Gilmore’s past.

  “You’re working with Martina?” He chuckled. “She keeping you on your toes?”

  “She is, but I’m also finding she’s an asset and excellent ally to have.”

  “That she is. Give me the address and I’ll make sure we’ve got twenty-four-hour patrol on your witness’s address. Give me an hour to make the assignments and to get the team assembled.”

  Tippin was solid. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Any time. Tell Martina hello for me, and tell her not to be a stranger.”

  “Will do.” I hung up the phone and was pleased to have a win for once. I wasn’t sure how Martina knew Tippin, but it seemed that anybody who had worked with her in the past had the highest respect for her.

  My thoughts lingered back to the DeSoto case and how angry she’d been. I, myself, wasn’t entirely convinced the husband wasn’t involved, but the certainty Martina expressed made me rethink the case and wondered if it warranted taking a second look. After we took care of the Donna Bernard case and found Theodore Gilmore’s murderer, maybe I’d ask Martina more about what she had on the DeSoto case. Martina was tough, highly intelligent, and driven. I could only imagine what it would be like to be around her all the time. Professionally, of course.

  I snapped back to the present case and jogged back to the conference room where Kennedy sat, peeling the paper label off her water bottle. I gave her a reassuring smile. “Good news. The SFPD will have twenty-four-hour patrol on your apartment building, starting in about an hour.”

  Kennedy set down the water bottle. “That’s good news. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Gilmore?”

  “No, I don’t think so. You’ll let me know if I can be of any help, on Donna’s case or my dad’s case?”

  “I will. It’s appreciated.”

  I walked her out of the station and waved as she was tucked away safely into her car. If we had more manpower, a full surveillance team to follow Kennedy wouldn’t be a bad idea. Maybe someone was following her, and maybe that someone was her father’s killer.

  When Martina returned from Pennsylvania, I’d run it by her. It was one thing to get a team watching her building, but a surveillance team was a whole different ask. I only had so many favors to call in, but maybe Martina had a few more.

  I pulled up the email where Martina had provided the names of all of Donna’s boyfriends that she could remember and started on the background checks. My fingers and toes were crossed that we’d get one that matched the description Kennedy had given. We needed a break in either case if we were going to close them anytime soon.

  20

  Martina

  I jogged up to the high school reception office and opened the door with determination and ice in my veins. I’d had a great workout at the hotel gym and a hearty breakfast at the local diner. I was operating at full capacity and it was great. I approached the counter, unzipped my down coat and unraveled my scarf. There were multiple desks with what looked like a mix of student workers and regular employees. A perky young redhead approached me. “How may I help you?”

  “I have an appointment with a Jill Williams. My name is Martina Monroe.”

  Before the student could request assistance, a woman in her early forties approached. She was dressed in head-to-toe black with cropped dark hair and bright blue eyes. Except for the piercing eyes, she was practically my twin. “I’m Jill.”

  I extended my hand. “Martina.” We shook and then I handed her my business card. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

  “No problem. I have the yearbooks in my office, all ready for you.”

  And she was organized and efficient. I liked her already. “Great.”

  “Follow me and I’ll show you.” As we walked, she said, “So, you’re looking for a former student?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I don’t have a last name. Just a photo, the potential year of graduation, a class ring, and the city she grew up in.” We think. Who knows what was true anymore? It was pretty clear Charlotte had spun a lot of lies when it came to her past.

  We stopped down the hall. “Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for. I’ll leave you to it. Just holler if I can help.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  I sat down at the desk that had a stack of eight yearbooks on it. I read the spines of each. Interesting. Jill had pulled a range of yearbooks from the period of time that Charlotte may have been a freshman to her senior year plus or minus two years. Thorough. If Jill were in the Bay Area, I’d ask Stavros to offer her a job.

  I pulled the yearbook for 1966 and hoped I’d get lucky. I slid the book from the top of the stack, set it down, and flipped open the cover. The pages were yellowing and smelled of mildew. I thumbed through the pages until I reached the senior portraits. Black and white photos of boys in bow ties and neat haircuts were mixed in with girls with short, puffy hairstyles. It was the sixties. I pulled my bag onto my lap and fished out the photo of Charlotte. Who knows if her name was even Charlotte? I would need to compare faces. I took the photo of Charlotte and placed it on the page next to each female photo.

  An hour later, I’d had a few near matches, but none were Charlotte. Maybe the year was off? I looked through the earlier and later years. Three hours later, no dice. Charlotte had not graduated from Central East between 1964 and 1968. I checked the time. I had about thirty minutes to grab something to eat before heading over to Cent
ral West High School.

  I placed Charlotte’s photo back into the envelope and in my bag and headed out to the reception area. I gave a sheepish grin to Jill-the-amazing, and said, “No luck, but thank you for all of your help.”

  Jill frowned. “Bummer. What are you going to do next?”

  “I’m headed over to Central West. Is there a spot between here and there for a quick, healthy bite to eat?”

  “Sure. You know, about a mile from Central West High, is Henley’s Bistro. They have great salads and sandwiches.” She gave me directions to Henley’s in great detail. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I had GPS in my rental car.

  “Perfect. Thank you.”

  “Best of luck.”

  I zipped up and headed out into the freezing Pennsylvania air.

  Tucked away in the corner of Henley’s Bistro, I practically devoured my turkey and avocado sandwich. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the server set down the piping-hot bowl of tomato-basil soup and the sandwich in front of me. After swallowing the last bite of the sandwich, I grabbed the spoon and slowly dipped it into the thick orangish-red soup that smelled of tangy tomato and fresh basil. It was just what I needed. I raised the spoon and my phone buzzed. Of course. I set the spoon back down and glanced at the phone before answering. “Hi, Kennedy.”

  “Hi, Martina, I hate to bother you, I’m a little stir crazy and I was wondering how it’s going out there?”

  It wasn’t surprising Kennedy was unnerved. Between her father’s death, wanting to learn more about her mother, and not knowing if she was in danger, she was probably going nuts thinking through all the different scenarios. The not-knowing part was a killer. I explained in a quiet voice. “I went to the first high school. No luck there, but I’m about to head over to the second one now.”

  “So nothing yet?”

  “I’m afraid not. I’ll let you know as soon as I have something, I promise. How are you holding up?”