A Dead Sister (Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery)

by Anna Burke

  “Did she say anything that night that made you think she was in trouble, more trouble than usual?”

  “Most of her rant was about money and how hard she had to work to get it, unlike me. How I like throwing money around, making people feel bad about how much more money I have than they do.” Jessica stopped, her cheeks growing warm again from a mix of anger and embarrassment.

  “We both know that’s not true, Jessica. You do know how to spend money, I can vouch for that! You’re like your dad, though, Jessica. You know, down-to-earth, a solid-citizen who happens to have a ton of money. Hank would have kicked your butt if you even thought about becoming one of those 90210 brats.”

  “Thanks, Frank, that’s kind of you. I’ve gone over and over that conversation on New Year’s Eve. It was so long ago, but Kelly might have said something relevant. What I thought she said, at the time, was something nasty about how much I looked down on her because of what she did to make a living. I assumed she was talking about working at the spa and casino. Now I’m pretty sure what she said was more like ‘If you knew what I have to do to make a living, you’d look down on me.’ What if she was doing something illegal, Frank?”

  “Like using drugs, or selling them?”

  “She was loopy that night, maybe loopier than booze alone could account for. Yeah, so maybe she was using. But that ‘making a living’ part sounds like it’s more than using drugs. Working at the casino, she could have been involved in some gambling-related scam, I guess, like skimming. Or maybe she was stealing credit card information. The possibilities are endless! Screwing up an operation like that could have gotten her killed.” Jessica stopped to collect her thoughts. “Art’s pretty convinced it’s about drugs. It’s not just the photos and that hypodermic found at the scene. The tox screen produced evidence of drug use. But, Frank, New Year’s Eve she looked so gorgeous. She had on this strapless party dress. It was a short, slinky thing that didn’t cover much. Not a needle mark anywhere on her. And, as I told Art, who happens to be a bit of an ass, by the way, Kelly hated needles. She got woozy, even passed out once, waiting in line for shots at school!”

  “I hear you, Jessica. None of this makes much sense at this point. I don’t know what to make of her comment about what she was doing to make a living. If Kelly was involved with drugs it might explain how she got tangled up with the men Chester Davis saw chasing her that night. It’s not hard to imagine guys like that running her down, either, if she got on their bad side.” He grew quiet, thinking, while also studying Jessica’s face. Eventually he just shook his head.

  “I don’t understand any better than you do, Jessica. I’m sorry Art upset you. A bit of an ass is about right. He’s a Larry David kind of guy, not always so good socially.”

  “If that’s the appropriate comparison, it’s way more than being socially awkward. Larry David calls himself a social assassin! That’s all I need. I already have an ex-husband cavorting in public places with this floozy who’s out to win a skank of the year award or something like that.”

  “I saw that!” The look on his face was half amused, half disgusted.

  “You saw it, too? Where?” Jessica knew the answer before he gave it to her.

  “It was on one of the entertainment news shows. Isn’t that what you’re talking about? They ran video last night of her pulverizing some photographer’s camera while the esteemed member of the paparazzi looked on in horror. The TV crew does this close up of the reporter’s face that’s all scratched up and bleeding. He’s bellowing that she’s not going to get away with this! It’s a free country, blah, blah, blah. Then they switch the camera around. There’s your ex, trying to hold back this woman who’s coming apart at the seams, literally. She’s a few shreds of cloth away from a major wardrobe malfunction. Acting like a wild cat, elbowing Jim, stamping her feet and screaming. Most of her shrieking was bleeped by the censors. I almost felt sorry for Jim, but not quite. Sometimes, Jessica, you do get what you have coming to you.” He broke into a rueful smile.

  Jessica hung her head, shaking it back and forth. “Well, as fate or the shopping gods would have it, I was there. I had just walked out of Max Mara’s when the she-beast appeared, claws at the ready.” Frank was flabbergasted as she told him what had gone on before she got the hell out of there and that TV crew arrived. That included the moment when Jim spotted Jessica witnessing the row. Frank went from disbelief about the timing of the event to out-and-out laughter about the tangle of blonds, shopping bags and that poor poodle.

  “I am so sorry, Jessica. When I told you the first year of a divorce is the worst, I did not imagine having to include embarrassing encounters brought to you by your ex and the other woman.” Before she could stop herself, Jessica blurted out that she had seen worse.

  “Oh you have no idea. This was more public, but not nearly so mortifying as my previous encounter with Jim and that bimbo at home, in my own bed.”

  “Are you kidding? You caught them?”

  Jessica nodded yes, her eyes downcast. No way could she look at him—maybe not ever again.

  “You may not believe this, Jessica. The same thing happened to me.” Jessica’s head snapped up. She scrutinized him, putting her truth-o-meter to work.

  “You walked in on Mary and some guy, at your house, in your bed?”

  “Jessica, I’ve never told anyone this before. Not my kids, not my mom, nobody. Yes, I walked in on them in our house. Not in bed, but a minute or two later that’s where they would have been.”

  “No, oh my God, Frank that is so awful. I’m so sorry.” She reached across the table to pat his hands, which were clenched in front of him.

  “I knew we were in trouble, that she was struggling as a wife and mother, but I had no idea, no clue. Jessica, it wasn’t a guy.” He broke off for a moment, then, continued. “You know the worst part?” Jessica, realizing her hand was still touching his, let go, pulled her hand back to her lap, and shook her head, no.

  “The other woman wasn’t a skank or a bimbo. She was a colleague, someone I considered a friend. Until that moment I thought the problems we were having in our marriage had a lot to do with my being a cop. Turns out not only was she screwing around, but with another cop!”

  “Frank, she’s a lesbian. It wasn’t about your being a cop.” She reached out and patted his hand again. “It wasn’t anything about you at all. I know you felt betrayed, though, and that had to be hurtful. It had to be doubly hurtful since your friend betrayed you too. How on earth did you get past that?”

  “I didn’t. I haven’t. Just because the first year was the worst doesn’t mean it’s the last year you spend trying to figure out what the hell went wrong. That first year I blamed myself. I honestly was so ignorant about the gay thing. I thought I had done something to push her in that direction. You know, turned her off to men? Mary actually confronted me about that. She took responsibility for the fact that she was confused about her sexual orientation, and that it had nothing to do with me. Why didn’t she tell me that sooner? The lies and the sneaking around that went on right under my nose still hurts. I don’t understand how she figured that was okay. I don’t know if I ever will.”

  “Well, one of the more disagreeable things Art Greenwald said to me today had to do with the fact that someday, when I get older, I would realize you don’t always know people the way you think you do. He was talking about Kelly, of course. I could have decked him, since I am dealing with exactly that issue as I continue to discover that the man of my dreams is an astonishing dirt bag. Your wife’s confusion about her sexual orientation was not an excuse to betray you, Frank. That’s on her, not you. That coworker you considered a friend doesn’t get off the hook, either. I’m so sorry.”

  “I know, Jessica. Thanks.”

  “This is so weird, Frank. Laura and I had almost the same conversation when she was wondering how she could have married a man in the sort of trouble that got him murdered. Here we are dealing with the same thing again. Not just with our cheating
spouses, but with Kelly. Do you ever really know anyone? Is it even worth it to get out there and try?”

  “Jessica, you have to risk it or nobody would ever get married or have kids. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. Betrayal changes you. Divorce changes you. I’m not the happy family man with a beautiful wife and a couple great kids that I imagined I was. It’s more than the fact that I check a different box when I file my taxes or fill out a form somewhere. I’m rewriting the story in my head about my life and who I am.”

  “And have you done that, Frank?”

  “I’m working on it! By the time I get my head wrapped around the idea that I’m this single dad, juggling work and parenting, the kids will be grown. They’ll walk out that door and I’ll have to figure it all out again. I’d like to believe I won’t still be alone when they leave, but who knows? Right now there’s not much time or energy left at the end of the day or the week, so I’m talking big when say it’s good to keep trying.”

  “You are trying and I get how much courage and effort that takes. I hope I can do the same.”

  “You just need more time, Jessica. What this conversation makes clear is that we have to keep an open mind about Kelly. Art Greenwald is correct, whether we like it or not, you don’t always know people the way you think you do. It seems impossible to believe Kelly was a drug addict, but she was in some kind of trouble. Who knows, maybe it was drugs.”

  “Okay, I hear you. Here’s the last thing I need you to consider, Frank. I want to put Jerry Reynolds to work digging into Kelly’s past. You met him a couple times. You know, the P.I. who helped me with the investigation when Roger was killed? He’s attached to Paul Worthington’s firm in LA. I guess it’s sort of my firm too now, since I’ve officially signed an agreement to affiliate with their Palm Desert office.”

  “Congratulations, Jessica. You’re taking on a lot, though: divorce, a new job, Chester Davis as a client and reopening the investigation into Kelly’s death.”

  “I know, it seems like a lot to me, too. The agreement I signed makes me an associate at the law firm on a contingent basis. The salary we negotiated for the interim is not chump change, but it’s a good deal for them, and I’m grateful to have a place to hang my hat. A hat that’s been in mothballs for several years, I should add. Paul Worthington has offered to provide mentoring. There will be lots of folks scrutinizing what I do before anybody signs off on anything. That kind of support is not easy to come by for junior associates these days. So, mostly, I’m not alone in any of this, except maybe the divorce part.”

  “You’re not alone there either, Jessica. Consider me your post-divorce tour guide, mentor, whatever you prefer to call it. There were times I was sure I wasn’t going to make it that first year. More than once, I thought about just dropping the kids off on Mary’s door step and making a run for it.”

  “I did run away. At least I don’t have two kids depending on me to stay sane!”

  “Yeah, and the whole time they’re nudging you closer to the edge. Look, what is it you wanted to ask me about Jerry Reynolds?”

  “I already talked to Paul Worthington about using Jerry’s services once he’s back in town from vacationing in Hawaii with Tommy. When he and Tommy come to the house on Friday, I’d like to take Jerry aside and bring him up to speed, deploy him as fast as I can. The dilemma, of course, is what to do about Tommy. It’s not a good idea, and maybe not even possible, to keep Tommy in the dark for long. What should we do, Frank?”

  “That is a little tricky, Jessica. It puts Jerry in a tough spot to hide things from Tommy. That doesn’t sound so good, especially after talking about how painful it is to find out someone you trust isn’t being open. If we tell Tommy, we sort of pass that burden along to him, because we’re not ready to go to his parents with any of this.”

  “Not yet. We should give it another few days at least. Maybe see what Dick Tatum is able to work out with the D.A. If Art and his team start back to work on this in earnest, they’ll have to go back to Sammy and Monica at some point and ask questions again. I’d rather they hear what’s coming from you or your dad. I don’t know. Maybe we can figure this out tomorrow night.”

  “Good plan. Let’s sleep on it. Things may be clearer to one or both of us in the morning, who knows?”

  “Yeah, I’ll know more once I’ve gone through the old case file. Probably more than I want to know...” Jessica said, letting her voice trail off as she signed for their dinner, charging it to her room. They headed out of the restaurant together, and paused before parting ways.

  “Thanks again for dinner, Jessica, and for the conversation. I am so glad I’m not dealing with these new revelations about Kelly on my own.”

  “As tough as all of this is, I’d rather know the truth than live a deluded life.”

  “Me too, that’s something else we have in common. Good night, Jessica.” With that, Frank Fontana swept Jessica into his arms for an embrace that left her lightheaded. She did not make any move to break free, relishing the warmth and comfort of human contact. Surely there was nothing magic about a year.

  CHAPTER 15

  The contradictions in Jessica’s life hit her right between the eyes as she pulled on a swimsuit for a morning workout in the pool downstairs. Surrounded by luxury and comfort, she was engulfed by pleasant thoughts about dinner the night before with Frank. Nevertheless, she fought to stave off anxiety and dread. Those feelings whined and nipped, begging for her attention like a puppy shut up alone in a room.

  “Not yet. I need coffee and a swim first,” she muttered to herself, as she donned a robe and flip-flops and padded down the stairs, opting to skip the elevator. When she hit the lobby, she could smell coffee coming from the Mission Inn restaurant. A quick conversation got her a cup of coffee to go, with a shot of espresso added to mimic the extra oomph she extracted from coffee beans with her press pot at home.

  The pool was nearly empty at this hour. Heated, it was warmer than her dad’s pool in Brentwood. She quickly established a smooth rhythm, propelling through laps as she thought about the day ahead. A to-do list formed in her mind, growing longer with each lap.

  She needed to check her voicemail and email to see if Paul Worthington had heard anything from the Van der Woerts. She was plenty conflicted about news from him. If they said no, or even had reservations, it would be a setback. On the other hand, if they said yes, she was going to have to ramp up her efforts on their behalf, and soon. So, the good news is you have a client and the bad news is you have a client. Not having them as clients would definitely be worse. She and Paul hadn’t talked about what that might mean for her new job, but it couldn’t be good.

  She also needed to run the address Frank had given her, mapping her route to his house in order to arrive on time for the family picnic. Under the circumstances, dinner with Uncle Don and Aunt Evelyn was another source of anxiety rippling through her. Should she bring something? She hadn’t even thought to ask. It was Frank’s fault for getting her all shaken up with that hug. There was a cupcake store on the hotel premises. All she needed was more cupcakes, but they might go over well with the kids. A bottle of wine would be good, too, if someplace nearby carried something decent. She tried to remember what Uncle Don and Aunt Evelyn liked to drink, with no luck.

  The big task that loomed was reviewing Kelly’s file. She had promised Frank she’d go through it. Staying on top of the investigation about to get underway meant organizing a file her own. Starting with a list of individuals to locate and interview. Who knew what that would entail so many years after Kelly’s death?

  The swim did what it was supposed to do, both relaxed and energized Jessica to face the day. She had planned to have breakfast in her room, ordering from room service so it could be prepared while she showered and dressed. But the clanking of dishes and chatter of voices called to her from the restaurant. She preferred to be around people this morning. Poring over Kelly’s police file in her room did not sit well. Breakfast with happy, normal people won out
over the prospect of facing, alone, the havoc wrought by her childhood friend’s encounter with a long-haired misanthrope and his minions.

  In a short time, Jessica was sitting on the beautiful patio at the Mission Inn restaurant with breakfast selections from their wellness menu in front of her. More coffee, an egg white omelet with mushrooms and other veggies, accompanied by fresh fruit set her on the right track. It was a virtuous breakfast following a decent workout. The waiter also spoke to the manager who arranged for a box of cupcakes and a couple bottles of good wine to be sent to her room. She would not show up at Frank’s house empty-handed.

  Waiting for her breakfast to arrive, Jessica checked, but there was nothing from Paul. It was a holiday after all. Even Paul Worthington and his firm might let things coast a little for the Fourth of July. The Van der Woerts were thoughtful people who weren’t likely to make judgments about important decisions rashly. Still, they were the ones who had been urging Paul Worthington’s firm to get things moving. Maybe things hadn’t gone so well after all. What had she done wrong? Had she said something to put them off? “Stop!” she commanded her hyper-vigilant mind, scanning the environment for something to justify the dread that hovered.

  Jessica soon had plenty of reason to be more than a little anxious. The photos from the crime scene were shocking. She fled the confines of the restaurant where the aroma of food made it impossible for her roiling stomach to settle down. What had she been thinking, taking such horrific images into a public place where some poor unsuspecting passerby might have glimpsed them? Up a flight of stairs, Jessica found an outdoor patio area with an elaborate fountain that made pleasant gurgling sounds. She sought courage in the blue skies above her and the delicate floral beauty of the small plaza in which she sat. So much for being around people, the babble of the water would have to soothe her as she pushed on through the carnage documented in Kelly’s file.