by Nancy Skopin
After dinner I ordered coffee and requested a doggy bag for what was left of my lobster. It was 10:55. I excused myself, and went to the ladies’ restroom. There was a pay phone in the hallway. Elizabeth answered on the first ring.
“It’s me,” I whispered. “Is everything okay?”
“Tough locks. And you didn’t tell me there was a chain on the kitchen door. I haven’t found the knife. I’m trying to put everything back exactly where it was and that’s slowing me down. Are you on your way?”
“We’re done eating. I’ll try to talk him into a walk on the beach, but we might be back in the next twenty minutes. Do what you can, and get out in fifteen.”
“Okay.”
“Elizabeth?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
“No sweat.”
I used the facilities, washed my hands, put on fresh lip gloss, powdered my nose and forehead, and strolled back to the table. Fred had already paid the check and left a cash tip. My doggy bag was waiting.
“Listen,” I said, “I’ve made a pig of myself. The least I can do is take care of the tip.”
“That’s not necessary,” he said, getting up.
“Please. I feel guilty.”
“Fine.”
He collected his cash and I placed a twenty on the table.
When we were outside I asked if he was up for a walk on the beach. He looked at me for a long moment, his expression neutral, then he looked down at his shoes and, finally, said, “Why not?”
There was very little light on the beach, just the glow cast by the lights from the restaurant and the adjacent parking lot. We carefully picked our way down the hillside to the sand. I lit a cigarette and moved toward the water.
“How’s the investigation into Laura’s murder coming along?” he asked.
I was impressed that he could make a question like that sound so casual, like, How’s your cat? How’s that pesky murder investigation going?
“Slowly. Did you know she’d been arrested for solicitation?”
“She told me about that. Thought it was a great joke. So, any suspects?”
“Several.”
I was glad he couldn’t see my face in the dark.
We walked along the beach for about twenty minutes, and then walked back up to the car. During all this time alone with me in the dark Fred never made a pass or even attempted to put his arm around my shoulder. I was relieved, but also curious about what was going on in that big brain of his.
We drove back to Menlo Park and he invited me in, offering a nightcap, but I said I was tired. The next thing I knew he had his arms around my waist and was pressing his lips to mine. He slipped his tongue between my teeth and I was so surprised I forgot to struggle. A jolt of electricity coursed through my body, striking all those seldom-used erogenous zones. Then he released me, stepped back, and said, “Goodnight, Nicoli.”
I got into my car and waved as I drove off. There was no doubt he’d felt the revolver at the small of my back. I spent the trip home wondering about the kiss. It was exciting and a little unnerving, and it did not leave me wanting more. It had effectively thrown me off balance, for a minute anyway. Was this guy genuinely interested in me, or just looking for the next conquest? Was he checking to see what that bulge at the small of my back was? Did he intentionally keep his hands off me all evening so the kiss at the end of the night would be a shock? Was he dating me just to keep track of where I was in the investigation? Was I reading too much into everything he said and did? Probably. I wondered if Laura had questioned his motives before getting involved with him.
When I arrived back at the marina I locked the BMW and inched slowly down the steep companionway. It was low tide and my boots didn’t have rubber soles. Elizabeth was seated on her dock steps waiting for me, her usual glass of Kahlua, vodka, and milk in one hand, my cell phone in the other.
“I thought you’d never get here!” she said. “Come inside. Did you have a good time?”
“Not bad. Scary driver. Kind of charming. Good kisser. Enough small talk. What did you find in his house?” I followed her into the trawler.
“Nothing,” she said. “What do you mean good kisser? I thought your interest in this guy was purely professional.” She slid the door closed behind us.
“It is. He kissed me, I didn’t kiss him. Nothing, huh?”
“Nope. Sorry. After you called I fast-forwarded through that videotape. It was what you said. Just some people skydiving. The computer wasn’t turned on, by the way. I took a quick look around the garage. There were some shelves I couldn’t reach, and there was no ladder. There wasn’t time to drag a chair out from the house because I still had to reinsert the chain lock on the kitchen door from the outside. That’s not easy, you know. I did notice how clean and organized everything was, even in the garage. What is he, some kind of neat freak?”
“Totally. Thanks, Elizabeth. How’s your pulse?” I pulled seven twenties out of my wallet.
“Almost back to normal.” She accepted the cash. “I probably won’t sleep much tonight, but it was fun, as soon as it was over anyway.”
She handed me the phone and took my camera out of her pocket. I dropped both into my purse. She reached under one of the settee cushions and pulled out the Glock, still in the fanny pack holster. I slipped that into my purse as well. I slid the door open and stepped outside, then stopped and turned back.
“Listen, I have to go to that strip club again tomorrow night. I know you have to work on Monday, but we can leave early. I really don’t want to go in there alone again.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to a strip joint!”
I gave her a hug. “I’m glad you’re my friend. See you tomorrow.”
On board my boat I dropped my purse on the stateroom floor, and turned on the evening news. While I watched I stripped off my clothes, and crawled into bed. I slept for about twenty minutes before my subconscious woke me up. I found the notepad and pen I keep on the headboard and made a list.
Laura’s former fiancé’s reaction to her career choice
Derrick’s reaction to his daughter’s solicitation arrest
Who will inherit the Howard fortune, now that Laura’s dead?
Having exhausted my imagination, I nodded off again and slept soundly.
Chapter 16
On Sunday morning, after two cups of coffee and a warm shower, I felt pretty good. I moseyed up to the office, turned on the computer, and opened Laura’s file.
I called Kate and Derrick at home. Kate answered after three rings. I asked if I could stop by around 10:00. She checked with Derrick and said that would be fine.
I called Detective Anderson on his cell.
“Anderson.” He sounded annoyed.
“It’s Nikki Hunter. Do you have any off-duty time available?”
I could hear the wheels turning as he wondered why I was asking.
“I might be free tonight,” he finally said. His tone of voice had softened.
“I’m working until about 8:30,” I said. “Can you meet me at my office?”
“I should be able to do that.”
I was smiling when I hung up the phone.
I tried calling the Fanny Pack to find out if Frank and Candy were working that night, but there was no answer, so I dialed Sylvia in Los Angeles. She answered on the fourth ring, sounding groggy.
“Sylvia, it’s Nicoli Hunter. Did I wake you?”
She was silent until her memory kicked-in. “Oh yes, the private investigator. Any suspects yet, dear?”
“Not really. I’m going to see Kate and Derrick this morning and I wanted to talk to you first. I need to know about the family’s money.”
“You mean in relation to Laura?”
“And i
n general.”
“Well, Laura was about to inherit a substantial sum. When our parents died they left half of their money to Laura and the other half to her brother Rod. My husband and I never had children.”
What the fuck? “I didn’t know there was a brother. Kate told me Laura was an only child.”
I was outraged that Kate had lied to me. Sometimes I’m incredibly gullible.
“Well, I suppose to Kate she was an only child. Rod is Derrick’s son from a previous marriage.”
“Oh. Can you tell me about the provisions of the will? How much money are we talking about?”
“Laura would have inherited five million dollars on her twenty-fifth birthday, plus the interest, of course. It’s been in a money market account for a few years. I guess now that she’s gone the money either reverts to Derrick and me, or to Rod.”
“Where does Rod live? Has he already collected his portion of the inheritance?”
“Yes, he received his shortly after their death, when he turned twenty-five. He lives in San Francisco. At least he used to. I haven’t spoken with him in years. We were never very close. Rod’s a strange one. Raised by his mother.”
Like that could be any worse than being raised by Derrick.
“Do you have an address and a phone number?”
“Just a minute, dear.” I heard a drawer open and close, then she came back on the line. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“He used to live in Diamond Heights,” she said. “I don’t know if this is current.”
She read me an address and telephone number, and I copied them down. I thanked Sylvia and ended the call.
I dug out the photocopy I’d made of Kate’s check and sent an e-mail to CIS requesting a financial background on the Howards. A checking account number is sufficient for this type of research.
Before I left for Atherton I totaled my hours and the running list of expenses, subtracted Kate’s initial deposit, and printed an invoice. I took the Ruger out of my purse and slid it back into the Velcro holster under my lap drawer. I still had the Glock in the fanny pack holster which was in my oversized purse. I probably didn’t even need to carry a gun, but because it was my first homicide investigation I was feeling insecure. Of course if I needed to draw the Glock in a hurry, getting it out of the fanny pack would slow me down. I had a Triple K pistol purse with a built in holster stowed somewhere on the boat. I decided I had enough time to switch bags before my meeting with the Howards.
I found the pistol purse in the stateroom locker and transferred the contents of my bag, securing the Glock in the holster compartment. If I wore the purse on my left hip with the shoulder strap across my chest, I could cross-draw with my right hand while holding the purse in place with my left. I tried it a couple of times and the action was smooth enough.
I was still angry with Kate for not telling me about Laura’s half brother Rod so I broke the speed limit all the way to Atherton. It’s a short drive, but I generally avoid breaking the law because I hate the humiliation of getting caught. While I was driving I went over what I would say to Kate and Derrick, imagining how they might react to being reprimanded by the hired help.
There were two late model 5 Series BMWs in the driveway when I arrived. My little Bimmer is over twenty years old, but I take good care of it. I parked behind one of the sedans, patted my dashboard affectionately, and got out of the car.
I knocked on the front door, which was promptly answered by a middle-aged woman wearing a black dress and a white apron.
“I’m Nicoli Hunter,” I said. “I have an appointment with the Howards.”
She was looking right at me, but I had the feeling she didn’t understand what I had said. After an awkward moment, Kate walked up behind the woman and said something in Spanish. The woman nodded and walked away.
“Sorry about that. Celia’s English isn’t very good. Please, come in.”
Kate escorted me into the living room, where Derrick was reading the Wall Street Journal. I admire people who can read the Wall Street Journal and not fall asleep after the first paragraph.
“Ms. Hunter.” Derrick stood up and offered his hand. I shook it reluctantly. “Please sit down,” he said, gesturing to the elegant sectional on which he had been seated. “What can we do for you?”
“You can start by telling me about Rod and his relationship with Laura.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Then you can tell me about the inheritance.”
Derrick glanced at Kate. “Rod and Laura didn’t see much of each other,” he said. “There’s really nothing to tell about their relationship. How did you find out about the inheritance?”
“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is the fact that neither of you mentioned it to me. Surely you must know that five million dollars plus interest provides a significant motive. Who gets all that money now that Laura’s out of the picture?”
Kate visibly cringed at my choice of words before responding. “Half of the money will go to Rod, and the other half will be divided between Derrick and his sister, Sylvia.”
“And the reason neither of you chose to mention this to me?”
Kate fielded that one as well. “I didn’t think it was pertinent. Rod has already inherited five million, so he can’t possibly need the money enough to harm Laura, and we would never hurt our own daughter.”
I considered what she had said about Rod. He can’t possibly need the money enough to harm Laura. What if he did need the money enough? She also didn’t say anything about whether she and Derrick, or Sylvia for that matter, could use the money.
“I’d like to get a copy of the will,” I said. “And I’d like to speak with your attorney. I’ll need his name and phone number.”
They were both silent for a moment, then Kate said, “Of course,” and left the room.
When she was gone I turned to Derrick who was looking at me as though I was a bug under a microscope. His eyes seemed empty and at the same time calculating, disconnected from what was going on around him, but observing everything with detached interest. That visible indifference pissed me off, since his daughter had so recently been butchered.
“I understand Laura was arrested for solicitation,” I said, watching for a change in those emotionless eyes.
He darted a glance in the direction Kate had gone. “Who told you that?” he asked, still watching for Kate.
“I ran a background check,” I lied, not wanting to get Anderson in trouble for showing me the file.
“Kate doesn’t know anything about that, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“Okay. I’ll come by your office tomorrow and we can discuss it in private.”
Derrick crossed his legs and gently shook the wrinkles out of his newspaper.
Kate returned a moment later and handed me a slip of paper on which she had written the name Gerald Kuhlman and a phone number with a 415 area code. The name meant nothing to me.
“Did Laura date anyone special while she was in college?” I asked. Sylvia had told me Laura was engaged, but I didn’t want to tip my hand. They had intentionally hidden Rod and the inheritance from me and I wanted to see if I could catch them in another lie.
Kate and Derrick looked at each other. “Only Charles,” she said.
“Last name?”
“Spencer. Charles Spencer. We were very disappointed when Laura broke off their engagement. He was such a nice boy.”
“Did she tell you why she stopped seeing him?”
“She said he was predictable, whatever that means.”
“Do you know where Charles is living now?”
“He used to live in Palo Alto,” Kate answered. She glanced at Derrick. “We haven’t seen him recently.”
“Do you have any of Laura’s college yearbooks, or a picture of Char
les?”
“Laura never bought the yearbooks.” Kate looked down at her hands, clearly ashamed that her daughter hadn’t purchased her college annuals, as if that decision alone reflected all her failings as a mother.
“What about a photograph?”
She looked at Derrick again. When he ignored her, she looked back at me and shook her head.
“Anything else you’d like to tell me?”
Kate said nothing and Derrick didn’t look up from his paper.
“Okay. Thank you for your time.” I fumbled in my purse for the bill I’d printed up and handed it to Kate. “You can mail me a check. I’ll show myself out.”
I left, satisfied that I’d made my displeasure known in every possible way. Since I was already in Atherton I decided to swing by Stanford University, just a few miles further south, to see if the library was open on Sunday. After driving around the campus, lost, for twenty minutes, I accidentally happened upon the library. It was a large ornate building and, luckily, it was open.
I located the reference desk and asked to see the annuals for the years when Laura had attended. The young man behind the counter looked put out, but he went and got them for me and plunked them down on the desk.
“These can’t leave the library,” he said.
“Thank you,” I replied grudgingly.
I took the yearbooks to a table and opened the most recent one. Charles Spencer wasn’t hard to find. He was the class valedictorian, for one thing. He was also in the chess club, on the football team, and was heavily involved in theater arts. His picture was all over the place. I even found a shot of Charles and Laura seated on a hillside. The caption read most likely to get married. Ouch. He was a good-looking guy with a muscular build. I wondered when Laura had decided he was predictable.
I made photocopies of three of the better pictures of Charles, including the one with Laura in it, then I carried the books back to the reference desk and asked the clerk where I could get a mailing list of alumni.