‘Oh, baloney.’ Gretchen said robustly. ‘You’re still young, you’re gorgeous. Look at you! You’ll meet someone. Someone you are remotely attracted to. Although I have to say, from where I’m sitting, Haddon’s not bad. I mean, compared to Adam.’
‘Give me a break,’ said Nikki. ‘You worship Adam.’
Adam Adler, Gretchen’s husband, was a highly successful television producer, amazing father and husband and all round good guy. It was true he wasn’t exactly Johnny Depp. But he was funny and generous and he and Gretchen adored each other. Gretchen would no more have traded Adam in for a new model than flown to the moon. Back before the accident, before she knew about Lenka, Nikki had thought of herself and Doug in the same light. The two couples used to go on vacations together. Christ, it all seemed so long ago now.
‘I have been attracted to other people,’ Nikki confided in Gretchen. ‘It’s not that. It’s more that …’
‘Whoa, whoa whoa. Back up,’ said Gretchen. ‘Attracted to other people? Like who?’
Nikki waved a hand dismissively. ‘No one important. Nothing’s happened.’
‘Who?!’ Gretchen repeated.
An embarrassed smile spread over Nikki’s face. ‘There’s a guy. His name’s Lou Goodman. He’s actually one of the detectives investigating these murders.’
Gretchen clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself laughing. ‘You’re hot for the detective?! Oh my God. Nikki!’
Nikki laughed herself. It was such a relief to talk to Gretchen about this stuff. Somehow her old friend’s presence made everything seem more normal. More OK.
‘Hold on, didn’t you tell me he thought you were a possible suspect? In Lisa Flannagan’s murder?’ Gretchen remembered.
‘That’s the other one. His partner. Johnson,’ said Nikki. ‘No one in their right mind would be attracted to him, believe me.’
‘So this Lou guy. You really like him?’
‘Not really. I mean, yes, sometimes. He’s smart. He’s good-looking. But nothing’s going to happen. We got drunk one night, talking about the case, and I almost … I thought about it.’
‘Is he married?’
‘Of course not,’ said Nikki, suddenly serious. ‘I wouldn’t do that. Not after what Doug did to me.’
Instantly, the atmosphere changed. Nikki’s mood darkened and her face fell, as it always did when she thought about Doug’s affair. Gretchen had learned not to say anything at these moments, to lay low and let the storm pass. It always did, in the end. She and Adam were two of the very few people who Nikki had confided in about Doug’s secret girlfriend, and the horrendous trauma of learning about it the way she did, the day that he died. They had both seen a profound change in Nikki since then, not just grief but a barely suppressed rage that hadn’t existed in her before. Or at least, Gretchen didn’t remember it.
As if sensing Gretchen’s worry, Nikki suddenly said, ‘I think there might be something wrong with me.’
‘Why? Because you found someone attractive?’
‘No. Not that.’
‘There isn’t anything wrong with you, Nik,’ Gretchen said kindly.
‘My emotions are all over the place.’
‘That’s called grief.’
‘I know, but it’s been a year,’ said Nikki.
‘A year? That’s nothing,’ insisted Gretchen. ‘And then these terrible murders on top of everything? My God. Anyone else would be in an asylum by now.’
‘Yeah, well. Maybe I should be in an asylum,’ said Nikki glumly. ‘I’ve been having feelings for one of my patients as well. A woman.’
She looked across at Gretchen, apparently determined to win her disapproval for something. Instead, her old friend simply looked intrigued.
‘Really? Tell me more.’
‘She’s young. Very young,’ said Nikki. ‘And separated from her husband. And if that weren’t complicated enough, Derek Williams, the private investigator I’ve hired, thinks her husband may have some connection to these murders, or at least to Trey …’
‘Have you ever … you know … before? With a woman?’ asked Gretchen, cutting her off. Evidently she was a lot more interested in Nikki’s love life than any new developments in the case.
‘No,’ said Nikki.
‘Not even in college?’
‘You’d know if I had.’
‘I guess that’s true,’ Gretchen shrugged. ‘So these “feelings” you’re having for this woman. I take it you haven’t acted on them?’
‘No. And I never will. I’m not that stupid.’ Nikki ran a dripping hand through her wet hair. ‘I honestly think I’m having a mid-life crisis, Gretch. Or I’m depressed or … something. Forget I said anything.’
The dark cloud was back, so Gretchen let it drop, changing the conversation to her kids and their latest dramas, before dragging Nikki into another room for a body scrub. The old Korean women who attacked them with hoses and loofas were so rough, turning them over and pummeling them like two slabs of meat on an abattoir table, that Nikki and Gretchen always ended up in fits of laughter.
Afterwards, feeling red-raw but energized and changed back into their clothes, the two women went to their usual sushi bar across the street for a late lunch. Only then, tentatively, did Gretchen return to the subject of Nikki’s personal life.
‘So you mentioned before about hiring a private detective?’
‘Derek Williams,’ Nikki nodded, deftly spearing some stray tendrils of seaweed salad with her chopsticks. ‘He’s good.’
‘How did you find him?’ asked Gretchen.
‘I looked at reviews,’ Nikki said casually. ‘I don’t really have any experience of this stuff. Although randomly,’ she pointed a chopstick at Gretchen, ‘guess what case he worked on ten years ago.’
Gretchen laughed. ‘How am I supposed to guess that?’
‘Charlotte Clancy’s disappearance,’ Nikki told her, grinning. ‘Remember you were the one who brought that up, the last time I saw you? How Willie Baden’s wife Valentina took up that case when Charlotte first went missing, got a whole load of media attention?’
‘For the firefighter dad. Right.’ Gretchen leaned in, fascinated.
‘Tucker Clancy. He was the one who hired Williams to search for his missing daughter. I mean, how much of a coincidence is that?’
‘Crazy,’ Gretchen agreed. ‘So what happened?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Nikki.
‘What happened with that case?’
‘Oh, nothing, really. Williams got fired.’
‘Because he couldn’t find her?’
‘He says it was because he found out she had a married lover and the dad didn’t want to know about it. But maybe, I guess. Derek has some theory about an American banker and Anne’s ex-husband and drug wars here in LA …’
She trailed off vaguely, and Gretchen watched her eat her California roll with growing concern. This all sounded like gobbledygook to her. Like people making connections where there couldn’t possibly be any, trying to find meaning in a string of unrelated, awful, random events. In short, Derek Williams’ wild theories sounded like the very last thing Nikki needed.
‘Anyway, I wouldn’t shed too many tears for Charlotte Clancy,’ Nikki rambled on, oblivious to Gretchen’s worried look, and to her silence. ‘According to Williams, she wasn’t the sweet, innocent everyone believed her to be. She was running around Mexico City, wrecking lives, breaking up families. I’d say she deserved what was coming to her.’
Gretchen sat up, shocked. ‘You don’t mean that, Nik. You don’t really believe people deserve to die for having an affair.’
‘Don’t I?’ Nikki sat up too, her eyes blazing in a blood-chilling flash of anger. ‘Can you imagine turning on your iPad one night and seeing naked pictures of some slut Adam was seeing pop up on your screen?’
‘That would be terrible,’ admitted Gretchen. ‘But I wouldn’t—’
‘And what if the slut was pregnant?!’ Nikki demanded, her voice gett
ing faster and louder by the second to the point where other customers were turning to stare. ‘What if you’d been having fertility treatment, painful, exhausting, hopeless treatment for five YEARS,’ Nikki’s eyes welled with tears. ‘And then you discover your husband’s gone behind your back and got some other woman pregnant. And she sends the picture to his email, and you come home one night and BOOM, there it is. BOOM! Your entire life. GONE!’ she was shouting now and shaking, like a woman possessed, her entire face contorted in absolute hatred.
Gretchen felt her stomach flip over and the bile rise up in her throat. When she spoke again, there was genuine fear in her voice.
‘Lenka was pregnant?’
Nikki stared at her wild-eyed but silent. It was almost as if she were having some sort of fit.
‘You told me – you told everyone – you knew nothing about her until the day Doug died!’
Nikki blinked and shook her head, like someone emerging from a trance.
‘But you knew? You saw pictures? Jesus Christ, Nikki.’
Now it was Gretchen’s turn to shake.
Did Nikki have something to do with that accident?
Gretchen hesitated, her hand on her purse, unsure whether to stay or go.
‘I loved Doug,’ said Nikki, sensing her unease and answering the unspoken question. ‘I still love him. I would never have done anything to hurt him, Gretch. He was the one who did all the hurting, believe me,’ she added, with more sadness than bitterness this time.
Gretchen put down her purse. ‘OK. But you did know about the girl?’
Nikki nodded, staring guiltily down at her lap.
‘Before?’
‘Yes.’ Nikki’s voice had dropped from a roar to a whisper. ‘About a month before. She sent him pictures.’
‘And she was pregnant?’
Nikki nodded again. Then she started to cry. Instinctively, Gretchen leaned across the table and hugged her.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked.
‘I was embarrassed,’ said Nikki. ‘I didn’t know what to do!’
‘Did you confront Doug?’
Nikki bit down hard on her lower lip. ‘No. I know, I know. Pathetic, right? I should have thrown him out of the house then and there. But I didn’t. I pretended I’d never seen the pictures. I thought – hoped – he’d come to his senses.’ She looked at Gretchen, willing her friend to believe her. ‘He was my whole life, Gretch!’
‘And the baby?’
‘I don’t know,’ Nikki admitted miserably. ‘I hadn’t thought that through. I don’t know what I hoped for, it was all so new and so devastating and then,’ she swallowed hard, ‘then he died. He died and it was too late.’
The two women sat and talked for another hour after that. Despite her shock at the revelation, Gretchen was glad Nikki had told her. Obviously, the truth had been eating away at her for the last year, poisoning her from the inside out, corroding whatever chance she had for recovery or moving on.
‘You have to go to therapy, Nik,’ Gretchen told her. ‘I mean it. You have to promise me.’
‘I promise,’ Nikki said meekly.
‘All this anger, and talk about people deserving to die. It’s not you, and I don’t mind telling you, it’s terrifying. You need help.’
Nikki nodded.
Later, before Gretchen left, they spoke about the future.
‘Have you ever thought about moving?’ Gretchen asked.
‘Moving? Moving where?’ replied Nikki, running an exhausted hand through her hair. Gretchen knew the truth now. She was the only person on earth who did. Nikki was still trying to figure out whether that was good or bad.
‘Anywhere,’ said Gretchen. ‘New York? You could make a completely fresh start, away from all of this. Sell the house. I mean, you have no money worries, no dependants, nothing to tie you to LA. You could leave all the painful memories behind and begin again.’
Nikki had to admit it was a tempting idea, at least the way Gretchen put it. But life was never that simple. Memories were no respecters of geography, in Nikki’s experience. And then there was her practice.
‘I’d have to rebuild the business from scratch in New York,’ she told Gretchen, signaling to their waitress for the check. ‘Build a whole new client list.’
‘That’s true. But aren’t your clients here part of the problem?’ Gretchen countered. ‘This “young girl” you say you’ve been infatuated with? And then there’s what happened to Lisa Flannagan and Trey, not to mention the threats against you. I have no idea how you walk back into that office every day, Nikki. I know I couldn’t do it.’
Later, driving back to Brentwood, Nikki thought about what Gretchen had said. It hadn’t ever occurred to her to leave Los Angeles, but perhaps that fact in itself should worry her. The psychologist in her began analyzing her own motives. Why do I stay? What am I holding on to?
The answer came more swiftly than Nikki expected, blindingly obvious all of a sudden after today’s outpouring to Gretchen.
It’s my anger.
My anger with Doug.
I’m afraid to let my anger go.
Just then, Derek Williams’ number popped up on her Bluetooth. Nikki pulled over to take the call, parking under a jacaranda tree exploding with gorgeous violet blossoms. She felt a brief but acute moment of happiness – maybe she would go to New York? Let her anger go and be free! – that resonated in her voice as she picked up Williams’ call.
‘Derek! Hello. Thank you for your message after the gala the other night. I meant to call before and say that I—’
‘Nikki, I need to see you urgently. Tonight.’
For the first time since she’d met him, Nikki heard fear in Derek Williams’ voice. She wondered whether it was for her or for himself.
‘Has something happened? Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine. This drug-wars thing Luis Rodriguez has with the Russians is even bigger than we thought,’ Williams gabbled, his words rushing out nineteen to the dozen. ‘There’s a ring, Nikki, at City Hall. The cartels are competing for influence across LA. The entire city’s implicated – and I mean the entire city. The police department are part of it, but also banks and even charities.’
‘What?’ Nikki couldn’t keep up.
‘Charities. NGOs,’ Williams explained. ‘They’re being used to launder drug money. Everybody’s getting a cut. This is huge. Huge!’
‘OK, OK. Slow down,’ said Nikki cautiously. She was more concerned with Williams’ tone than anything else, the naked, breathless panic in his voice. It wasn’t like him.
‘Have you found a direct link to the murders? Or to me?’
‘Maybe.’
That wasn’t reassuring.
‘Maybe? Well, do you have any names?’
‘Not over the phone,’ Williams hissed. ‘Tonight. Somewhere neutral.’
They agreed on a hotel.
‘What about Lenka?’ Nikki couldn’t help but ask. ‘Were you able to find out anything more about her?’
‘Unfortunately, yes, I was,’ said Williams. ‘I’ll tell you that too, when I see you. It’s all connected.’
‘Can’t you tell me now?’ Nikki begged. She’d waited so long for closure on Doug’s mistress. Even another minute was torture.
‘Not now,’ Williams was firm. ‘Seven o’clock, at the hotel.’
‘But why …?’
‘Because I’m going home to pack a bag right now, and so should you. You’re not safe here, Nikki. After we meet, you should get away. Far away. Lay low for a while. I’m serious.’
A litany of questions formed in Nikki’s mind, but Williams hung up before she could ask any of them, clearly desperate to get off the phone. His paranoia was jarring, not least because it was so out of character. But Nikki’s nerves were eclipsed by her excitement.
In a few hours, she would know who Doug’s mistress really was.
Then I can let go of my anger. I can and I will.
Once I know the truth, all th
is will be over.
She was surprised when her phone rang again, this time from a blocked/unknown number. Williams must have switched phones.
‘Derek?’ Nikki picked up again. But it wasn’t Derek Williams.
At first she didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the line. It was hard to make out anything through the sobbing, deafening, gut-wrenching howls of pain that echoed through Nikki’s car speakers like the soundtrack from a horror film. But after a few seconds, she knew.
No. That’s impossible. It can’t be!
But it was.
‘Dr Roberts?’ Brandon Grolsch gasped. ‘It is you, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Brandon, it’s me.’ Nikki’s heart pounded. ‘Where are you?’
‘I need help.’ He began sobbing again. ‘I think they’re going to kill me!’
‘I can help you, Brandon,’ said Nikki. ‘But you need to tell me where you are.’
‘OK.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘I … I’m. I’m at the corner of …’
There was a loud thud.
Then the line went dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Nikki sat at the bar at the SLS Hotel in Beverly Hills sipping a ‘mocktail’, in this case a Moscow mule minus the vodka, and trying not to look nervous.
Her overnight bag was at her feet. She’d only packed a small weekender. She had no intention of being hounded out of her home for good, by Luis Rodriguez or anybody else. But after the unnerving call from Brandon Grolsch, she’d decided to take Derek Williams’ warnings seriously.
What will Derek say when I tell him Brandon’s still alive? she wondered. At some point she knew she would have to tell the police about Brandon as well. But Williams deserved to be the first to know. Besides, she wanted his take on it before she took another step.
Williams was late, which wasn’t unusual, although Nikki’s frayed nerves could have done without it tonight. She wanted to hear whatever he had to tell her about Lenka first, before she broached the subject of her call from Brandon. The terror and misery in Brandon’s voice still haunted her, as did the abrupt end to his call, and she still had no idea what to make of any of it.
Had Brandon really been involved in Lisa and Trey’s murders? Nikki didn’t want to believe it. It didn’t square in any way with the boy she remembered Brandon Grolsch to be, the lonely, troubled but intrinsically gentle individual who had turned to her for help when nobody else would help him, and who was still turning to her for help, although at this point God only knew what Nikki or anyone could do for him. And yet his DNA was there, on the bodies. That’s what the police said, anyway. It was so hard to know whom to trust.
Sidney Sheldon's the Silent Widow Page 29