by Anna Burke
“Sure, Tommy, I missed you. Something’s come up and I was hoping you could get over here sooner so we could talk before the others get here. Bring Jerry, of course. I need to talk to him too. How soon can you two get over here?” She knew she sounded stressed out, even though she had hoped to strike a more casual tone.
“You’re scaring the shit out of me, Jessica. Are you alright? Is Bernadette okay? Don’t tell me somebody’s sick or dead or something?”
“I’m fine, and Bernadette’s okay too. She just got back from spending time with her family for the 4th. Nobody’s dead. Well nobody’s dead that wasn’t already dead.” She sounded crazy. “It’s about Kelly, Tommy. I need to talk to you about Kelly.”
Bernadette had been completely silent, just standing there. When she heard that, she sat down on the edge of Jessica’s bed.
“Kelly? What about Kelly? Why do you want to talk to me about Kelly?” Tommy asked, his sunny mood vanishing, poof, all that Aloha spirit gone in an instant.
“There’s this guy I interviewed in a Riverside jail who claims he was at the casino hotel parking lot that night, Tommy. He says he saw the whole thing. Can you get over here by 5 or so? Cousin Frank will be here by then, too. We can try to explain it to you. I’m sorry to dump this on you the minute you’re back in town and over the phone. I just, it can’t wait, Tommy.”
“Okay, Jessica, okay. We’ll be there by five.” He hung up.
Jessica looked at Bernadette and, like a big baby, started to cry. “It’s m-m-murder, another murder, Bernadette. Can you believe it? Somebody killed Kelly on p-p-purpose.” It wasn’t until that moment that Jessica realized how truly horrific this week had been. Having to talk with her Uncle Don had been sad and stressful, but now Tommy. Wasn’t there some way she could spare him? He had suffered so much, and things were finally starting to look up for him. She felt like absolute shit hearing the delight drained from his voice.
“So, I take it you didn’t have such a good time at home alone this week? You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Jessica pulled herself up to a sitting position, leaning against the padded headboard. She did her best, between sobs and sniffles, to tell Bernadette all that had occurred since they had last spoken. She started with Frank’s visit on Sunday, and the story about Chester Davis, her meeting with him and his lawyer Dick Tatum. She even described her lunch with Dick Tatum and Riverside’s answer to Larry David, Detective Greenwald. Then she backtracked, telling her about Paul’s call, driving to LA and staying at her dad’s house in Brentwood. It was all such an overwhelming jumble, she wasn’t sure she was even making any sense.
“I have a new job, Bernadette, and a real client—two c-c-clients. And I have to find out who killed K-Kelly. And, oh my God, Bernadette, did you see that awful scene on Rodeo Drive?”
Bernadette nodded. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you brought it up. That Jim Harper has gone la vuelta de la curva. You know, ‘round the bend?” She was making little circling signs at her temple. “Completamente loco! Chica, you got rid of him just in the nick of time. You should start thanking God the first thing when you wake up every morning that he’s gone and that you didn’t make any babies with him. Those might be some loco babies, too.” She was shaking her head and made the sign of the cross. Suddenly, she spoke again, “Dios mio, Jessica, maybe he’s drogado! Could he be stoned on the weed or something worse?”
“I have no idea, Bernadette. He did his share of drinking, but he was always so critical of people who were sloppy drinkers or who used drinking as a crutch. I had a hard time getting him to take medications prescribed for him. At some point, he got a prescription for Ambien to help him sleep, but I don’t know if he’s still taking it or not.”
“That could be it. Look what Ambien did to Tiger Woods. He was a good golfer one minute and the next thing you know, he’s driving his Escalade into a tree in his yard, sleep crashing. Maybe Jim was sleep-shopping or something when that girlfriend of his went crazy. She was stepping all over that poor lady she knocked on the ground, and kicking that photographer in his cojones. I bet all that guy’s screaming woke Jim up real quick, if that hit on the head and the elbow in the ribs didn’t do it.”
“He was awake enough to recognize me standing there watching him make an ass of himself. Bernadette, Tiger Woods’ problems had to do with way more than Ambien. But what do I know? I’d have to take some kind of drug to be in the same room with that platinum-dipped looney tune. Maybe Jim’s a junkie, just like they claim Kelly was. I obviously didn’t know either one of them as well as I thought I did, Bernadette. Poor Tommy, I wonder if he knew Kelly was using drugs. If not, this is going to upset him.”
“I don’t know about Kelly, but when it comes to Jim, que se pudra! Good riddance and be glad you found out the truth when you did. Tommy will want to know the truth about Kelly, too. You’ll see. Truth, even the worst kind of truth, is better than the best kind of lie, Jessica.”
“Can I quote you on that St. Bernadette?”
Bernadette reached out and brushed Jessica’s hair back off her face and took Jessica’s chin in her hand.
“Sure, if it will help you feel less sorry for yourself. A lot of good things happened to you this week, querida mio. Your lawyering job is back, and you have a chance to help some people who need your help. You’ve got friends who care about you, including a couple handsome men waiting for you to figure out, in your heart, what’s already in your head. Jim is your past. You should go talk some more with Father Martin. He can tell you about the divorce rules. They can do that now you know, null it for you?”
“Are you talking about an annulment?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t know how they do it, but Father Martin does. He’s like a lawyer, too. He helped my friend Meredith. She got a fresh start, and now she’s getting married again.” Bernadette leaned in and dropped her voice, “She’s marrying a younger man—he’s 66 and she’s 72—but Father Martin says that’s okay, too. I’m going to be in her wedding in November. Maybe you can help me figure out what to wear, as matron of honor, once they decide on the colors they want to use.”
“Sure, Bernadette, that sounds wonderful. I’d love to help.”
“So, what do we need to do to get ready for tonight?”
“Not much, I hope. The caterers should be here about 5:30 to set up dinner for six. They’re bringing plates and all that. I wasn’t sure what time either one of us would get to the house, so they’re supposed to take care of it all—set up and clean up. I’ll break out a few bottles of wine. I guess I should put the whites in the fridge to chill. I’m so spoiled, Bernadette. How can you stand me?”
“You have a good heart, Jessica. You’re a hard worker, and nobody cares more than you about doing the right thing. You just get swallowed up by your own worries. You gotta shake it off. Your mother has that problem sometimes, too.”
“She does?” Bernadette just nodded in response, then, stood up. Jessica wasn’t thrilled at the idea of being like her mother in that way, or any way, for that matter. One of the reasons she was so determined to take her time getting involved with other men was that she so disliked the revolving door in her mother’s heart and her boudoir. As Bernadette was leaving the room, Jessica remembered that postcard she had seen at her dad’s house. “Bernadette, did you know that Mom and Dad keep in touch?”
“Of course they do. Unlike you and Jim, they did have a baby together. Even though you’re all grown up and they both travel a lot, they still keep track of you.” She started walking toward the door.
“But did you know they were seeing each other and soon? I found this postcard at Dad’s house from Mom, and it said ‘see you soon.’ Does that mean she’s coming home, or is he going to visit her?”
Bernadette turned back toward Jessica. “I don’t know everything that goes on between your parents, Jessica. Things haven’t always been easy. You know they’re complicated. Your mother will tel
l us if she’s coming home. Until then, dèjalo estar, leave it be, okay? You’ve got plenty to take care of already, chica.” Jessica watched her walk out of the room. There was something in Bernadette’s tone that she could not hide. Unspoken concern and “complicated,” what did that mean? Nevertheless, Jessica would leave it alone, for now. “One mystery at a time,” Jessica murmured, as she dug out Kelly’s file so she could look through it again before she met with Tommy.
CHAPTER 19
Jessica used the afternoon to prepare as best she could for her meeting with Tommy and Jerry, and the rest of the cat pack a little later. She focused on the most tactful and succinct way to lay it all out for Tommy. There were several key things she wanted to ask him about. A lot of the same things she had highlighted in her conversation with Uncle Don. She printed out the list of names the police had interviewed and put it in a folder for Jerry, along with copies of the reports from Kelly’s file.
When Tommy and Jerry arrived promptly at five o’clock, she felt ready to deal with the whole matter. They both looked refreshed from their vacation, arm in arm as they came in the door. Clearly, they were making headway in their relationship. Jessica was glad somebody was doing well in that area. She rushed to embrace them both.
“Hey, you two, come on in and take a seat in the bar area, will you? Bernadette is going to have the caterers set up in the kitchen and morning room while we talk. I have wine and beer in the bar fridge, or I can pour you something stronger, if you’d like. We have a bottle of Macallan already open. I’m not sure what else is in the liquor cabinet, but I’ll look.”
“Oh, Jessica, is it going to be so bad you’re breaking out the single malt?” Tommy asked, joking but worried too. He and Jerry trailed after her into the huge great room, taking a seat in the comfy leather chairs at the bar. Laughing at Tommy’s joke, a little uncomfortably, Jessica stepped down into the sunken area behind the bar.
“What’ll it be, boys?”
“A cold beer sounds wonderful. It’s not too hot out, but I’ve got to readjust after two weeks of tropical breezes.” Jessica pulled a Pliny out of the fridge, popped the top off and poured the golden brew into a frosty pint glass. Tommy eyed the cold drink as Jerry took it from Jessica.
“I’m going to have a shot of the Macallan, since you offered. I’ll save the beer for dinner.” He picked up a bottle of wine sitting on the bar, which was already opened so it could “breathe,” then set it back down. “This looks tempting, too. How drunk am I going to need to be, Jessica?”
“Well, I don’t know. I guess a lot depends on how much of what I have to tell is new and how much you already know. You were such a baby back then, and this happened such a long time ago. I don’t know how much you were involved in the investigation or what you remember about any of it. I don’t even see any record in her police file that anybody actually interviewed you at the time. You were a minor.” She poured two fingers of the Macallan into a sparkling crystal brandy snifter.
“Uncle Don talked to me. I was pretty shook up, of course. It didn’t seem like I had much to add or anything...” He stopped talking, realizing that Jessica was no longer paying attention to him, and followed her eyes to the entrance of the great room. “Cousin Frank, come on in. Jessica is plying me with liquor so I won’t go all hysterical on her when she starts quizzing me about my dead sister.”
“What are you drinking, Tommy?” Frank was talking to Tommy but he was looking at Jessica. She was gripping the sink around the bar area, trying to maintain her composure. She’d better have that talk with Father Martin, and soon. This was ridiculous. Jessica hadn’t felt like such an idiot, even in high school, or when she met James Harper.
“I’m drinking amber nectar of the gods. A 25 year-old Macallan Single Malt from Hank’s stash. The good stuff. It’s probably a hundred bucks a shot or something crazy like that. Sit down next to me, and we’ll pretend we’re rich guys, living in this house, sipping something fine from our whisky cellar. Is there such a thing, Jessica?”
Jessica was staring off into space. At least she had managed to break the eye lock with Frank. She didn’t know where to look. Not at Frank, that was for sure. He was wearing a tailored pair of board shorts and an Aloha shirt with the top button open. That’s what she’d told him to wear for the luau-themed dinner meeting of the cat pack. Tommy and Jerry were dressed the same way.
She and Bernadette had each put on one of their island dresses bought in Maui. Jessica wore a short, sleeveless tank dress, in an orchid color with a straight skirt and a rounded neck, a line of white ginger flowers streaming down the front and back. Now she wished she had told them all to wear more clothes. If she and Frank could stop undressing each other with their eyes, she’d feel a whole lot less naked. “I’ll bet he looks just great naked,” she thought.
“Earth to Jessica! What is going on, you two? How bad could this be?” Jerry gave Tommy a little nudge with his foot.
“Stop kicking me, Jerry. Is this about Kelly, or do you two need to get a room somewhere?” Jerry kicked him harder, and Tommy yipped, “Ouch! Now I have physical pain to go with my mental anguish. Can we get this over with, please?” Tommy’s imploring tone finally got through to Jessica and she found her voice.
“So, Frank, do you want the Macallan or the beer that Jerry’s drinking? I have that wonderful red wine here that I told you about at dinner. Or would you like something else?” He smiled as he sat down next to Tommy. That smile clearly said “something else”, but what he asked for was the Macallan, neat. “The man does have good taste,” Jessica thought, pouring a drink for him and then deciding to have the same. Tommy pushed his nearly empty glass toward her for a refill.
“Two hundred bucks a shot would be my guess, Tommy. My mom keeps it around in case my dad drops by. The really good stuff is stored in cellar conditions at his house in Brentwood. Some may be warehoused, too, since he was quite a collector for a while. Always stored upright, no light, and you need to keep it around sixty degrees, more or less. When it’s down to a third of the bottle or so, you might as well polish it off, with a little help from your friends, of course.” She raised her glass to the guys seated around the bar and took a big swig, hoping it would knock some sense into her. It did.
“I have a list of questions for Tommy, Frank. Do you want to start this off?” Frank set his glass of Macallan down on the bar, reluctantly.
“This is terrific, Jessica. Your dad knows what he’s doing.” Jessica saluted with another raise of her glass. She wished she could come out from behind the bar and sit down. Covered in a honey-colored, buttery-soft leather, the low-slung lounge chairs the guys occupied were so comfortable. But for the moment, Jessica liked the idea of having the bar between her and Frank.
She leaned in a little on the bar as Frank told Tommy and Jerry about Art Greenwald and the cold case team getting the nod from the D.A. to check out a guy’s claim that he witnessed a murder. As Frank explained, there really wasn’t any new physical evidence, but eye-witness testimony from a guy in lockup. For a price, he was willing to come clean about something he saw nearly 15 years ago: A girl rundown at a Palm Springs casino. Tommy’s eyes widened and a look of dread spread across his sweet features.
“Oh, my God, it sounds like Kelly! Was it Kelly? Did he say it was Kelly?”
“Well, he didn’t give us Kelly’s name. The guy’s a three-time loser with a brain cooked by years of drug use. But I had the same reaction, Tommy. I asked Art to look into it. I also didn’t want to get you and the rest of the family all stirred up, Tommy, if it was nothing. So, I asked Jessica to follow up. Maybe Jessica can take it from here, since she was able to use her lawyer bag of tricks to get in and see Chester Davis right away.”
“There wasn’t much of a trick to it. You know I’ve been speaking with Paul Worthington about working in the office his firm is opening out here. As it turned out, he had a client he wanted me take on, so I decided to enlist. I don’t know if it was my affiliation with the firm o
r sheer desperation on Dick Tatum’s part, but I was able to see Mr. Davis. Anyway, Chet’s really skittish, so I agreed to be co-counsel. Once I took him on as a client, he spilled his guts. There were some things he said that made me think he wasn’t making it all up. Murdered or not, he saw Kelly after she was killed that night. I don’t know how much detail you want me to go into. Some of what he said is pretty gruesome, but backed up by the photos and the accident report in her case file. Later, when I showed him a photo of Kelly he said she was the girl he saw that night.” Jessica had started to get the shivers. The air conditioned space seemed chilly.
“Jessica, just tell me what I need to know. I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” Jessica came around the bar, drink in hand, and sat down, rolling one of the lounge chairs around in front of Tommy. “Okay, well the basic question is one Frank and I have, even after talking to Uncle Don. Should we pursue this, given what a lowlife Chet Davis is? It might stir up a lot for you and your mom and dad. Is it worth that even if it’s another dead end?”
“Hell, yes! If there’s any chance someone actually killed Kelly on purpose. You’ve got to do whatever it takes to get the disgusting degenerate.”
“Okay, then, here goes. I’ll give you the most cleaned-up version of what I heard, and then I have some questions for you.” Jessica related the tale Chet Davis had told them, saying little about the condition in which Kelly’s body was found, except to say her death was quick. Tommy sat quiet and wide-eyed, listening to every word.
“There are a lot more details but we can get to those as the need arises. Anyway, my first question is: When did you last see or hear from Kelly?”
“That’s easy, Jessica. I talked to her on Monday, right after the New Year. She called me from work, upset because she had a fight with Bobby, that vile boyfriend of hers. He was pissed because he thought she was dissing him. First, by hanging out with you and her other rich friends on New Year’s Eve, then working double shifts. He also got mad at her for talking about going back to school. She was trying to figure things out for herself, and that reptile accused her of thinking she was better than him. I couldn’t believe he was still holding New Year’s Eve against her. They’d already had a fight about that even before she went out with you all. It sounds like she punished herself by being such a bitch that night that she got dropped off at home early.”