by Diana Orgain
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN•
The Sixth Week—Separation Anxiety
At 7 A.M. Laurie and Jim were both still sacked out from the day before.
I got out of bed. I had only a week and a half left of maternity leave. Ten days. Two hundred and forty hours.
I needed to build up a reserve of milk. I pulled out the cartoon instructions from Paula and did my best to produce a bountiful supply. I yielded three ounces. Ridiculous! How did other women do it?
I grabbed my to-do list:
To Do:
1. Find Brad and/or Michelle and/or Svetlana’s killer.
2. Speak to Michelle’s sister, KelliAnn.
3. x Make O.B. appointment.
4. Mail thank-you cards.
5. Get some sleep.
6. Print business cards.
7. Go grocery shopping.
8. Figure out how to solve this crime and find a way in the world with my own little PI business.
I needed to meet KelliAnn, Michelle’s half-sister, give her my condolences, and see if she had an insight into these awful murders.
Since it was Saturday, Jim could babysit. I left him with the precious three ounces of milk and instructions to use formula if Laurie was still hungry. I studied Laurie before I left: her eyebrows were darkening but the hair on her head remained a delicate strawberry blond. I fought the desire to sit and study her all day. How could I miss her already if I hadn’t even left?
When I arrived at KelliAnn’s place, I rang the bell and was buzzed up.
KelliAnn stood in front of her door. She had beautiful red hair, the kind that is so red it looks almost orange.
Real red hair, not out of a bottle.
She was tall and thin, clad in a clinging purple sweat suit with a silver chain around her neck. From the chain hung an old-fashioned heart-shaped locket.
She was only a few years older than Michelle and me, maybe thirty-five or -six at the most, yet she hadn’t aged well, probably due to a combination of her fair skin, smoking, and/or stress. Her face was lined and she seemed a little angry.
Not unusual, I imagined, for someone whose half-sister had been killed a week ago.
“KelliAnn?”
She looked me up and down. “Yes. Can I help you?”
I extended my hand. “Kate Connolly. You probably don’t remember me; I was in Michelle’s class at Holy Rosary.”
She smiled, showing off astonishingly white teeth. I self-consciously ran my tongue over my own.
How were people getting their teeth so white these days?
“I do remember you.” Her face darkened. “You found Michelle, right? Come in.”
I entered the spacious apartment, decorated in cream and green. It was fastidiously clean; the hardwood floors shone and every surface seemed to sparkle. I sat on a leather armchair. She hovered over me. “Something to drink?”
I recalled my vow not to consume anything prepared by a suspect. That didn’t include the sister of the victim, did it?
Maybe prudence would be best. “No. I’m fine. Thanks.”
KelliAnn sat down on her sofa, her ego deflated, as though my declining a beverage had hurt her feelings.
“KelliAnn, I’m so sorry about Michelle. We weren’t close, not since high school, but what a tragedy. I—”
“Thank you. It’s been really rough. She was the only family I had left. My mom died when I was in high school, and our dad died a few years ago.” She played with the locket around her neck. “The police told me Michelle overdosed.”
“Combination of diazepam and alcohol.”
“Yes.” KelliAnn squinted and dropped the locket. “How did you know?”
“I’ve been hired by Gloria Avery to find out who killed Brad.”
KelliAnn paled, stood, then sat. “Gloria? Really? I never got the impression that she cared all that much.”
“About Brad?” I asked.
“Either one of them, really. She’s . . . well, let’s just say she’s a lot like Michelle’s mother was.”
I recalled KelliAnn had not gotten along well with Michelle’s mother. Their father, a commercial airline pilot, had lived a double life, married to Michelle’s mom on one coast and maintaining a long-term affair on the other coast. When KelliAnn’s mother passed away, her father took her in and she came to live with Michelle and her mother.
Our high school was small, about three hundred students, so everyone was privy to the drama that Michelle and KelliAnn were going through as they went from strangers to half sisters.
I did my best to sidestep that land mine. “When’s the last time you saw Michelle?”
“We talked daily, but I hadn’t seen her since last week. Now, I wish I’d made the time. I had no idea she was so down that she’d kill herself.”
“You think she killed herself?”
Her brow wrinkled and creased, highlighting the sun damage on her face and causing her to look angry again. “Well, unless she accidentally overdosed. I mean, yeah. She had a tendency toward self-destruction. When Brad left her, she completely fell apart. She was starting to get better and then the police found his body. She just came apart at the seams.” She shook her head. “And Brad left her for another woman. I don’t know if you knew how vain Michelle was, but she was super vain. So imagine the hit to her ego when he told her he was leaving her.”
“Do you know who he was seeing?”
She shrugged. “Sure. It’s no big secret.”
She knew! I could barely contain my excitement. I tried to remember I was supposed to be a professional.
As calmly as I could, I asked, “Who?”
She leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “My neighbor, Jen.”
Hippie chick was the other woman?
“Jennifer Miller?”
KelliAnn looked confused. “You know her?”
Now I felt foolish. I had met Jennifer, but didn’t peg her as the other woman. What other clues were under my nose that I was missing?
I shrugged at KelliAnn and tried to hide my inexperience. “Well, I did speak with Jennifer early on in my investigation. I am a PI, you know.”
KelliAnn resumed fidgeting with the locket. “Right. Of course. Well, Michelle knew Brad was two-timing her, but I didn’t think she knew with whom. And I certainly didn’t want to tell her, ’cuz, I’m the one who got Jennifer hired at El Paraiso in the first place.”
“You felt responsible that Brad was cheating on Michelle? That’s absurd! If he was a big cheat, that has nothing to do with you!”
KelliAnn looked around the room and sighed. “I know, you’re right, but . . .” She shrugged and looked despondent. “Brad would come here, well, there, next door, practically every night until . . .”
My breath caught. “Did he come over here on June fifteenth?”
KelliAnn nodded. “He made kind of a scene that night, pounding on her door and yelling. She finally let him inside. He left after a while.”
“He left?”
That meant he’d left alive, not like she’d shot him in her apartment and dragged out a body bag.
“Yeah, but so did she, just a little bit after he did.”
“Have you told the police?”
A look of misery crossed her face. “I did tell them. But I never told Michelle. I didn’t want her to blame me. Now that she’s gone, I can’t believe I didn’t come clean with her.”
“Do you think Jennifer killed Brad?”
“I’ve told the police that a dozen times. Svetlana, too. After Jennifer quit at El Paraiso, she went to work at Svet’s store.” She stood and picked up a handbag off a side table. “Well, I was on my way out. Can I walk you downstairs?”
We left the apartment in silence. In front of the building, KelliAnn embraced me. “Thank you for coming by, Kate.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said into her red hair.
She released me and smiled sadly. “I know.” From her purse she pulled out a pair of glasses, held together in the m
iddle with tape, and a key ring. She pointed the key at a gold hard-top Mercedes. “Can I give you a lift anywhere?”
“No. Thanks. I’m not parked far.”
She nodded and put on the glasses, which succeeded only in making her look sadder. She walked to the Mercedes, then waved at me as she climbed into the car.
I crossed the street and peered through the windows of Heavenly Haight. Jennifer was helping an older woman pick through colorful scarves.
I sighed.
My tummy rumbled. Hungry again.
A huge McDonald’s sign loomed over me. My stomach roared. I never ate fast food, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed time to think, and eat. I ducked into the McDonald’s and placed an order.
Was I really burning all this food by breastfeeding? Or was this another old wives’ tale that would end up biting me in the ass, literally? What good was it to burn an extra five hundred calories a day if I was craving and consuming an extra thousand?
Oh well, at least I hadn’t supersized. And of course, I’d gotten the diet soda. Why drink the calories when you can eat them?
I dialed Jim from my cell phone and asked about Laurie.
“Honey, I don’t know what you think you’re missing, but she’s sleeping.”
“I’m missing her. Her face, her smell, her entire little personage!”
Jim laughed. “Her entire little personage has been asleep since you left.”
“Is she breathing?”
“Of course she’s breathing.”
“When’s the last time you checked?”
“Hold on.”
I tried not to panic. I bit into my Big Mac and waited. What was taking him so long?
“She’s fine.”
“You have to check on her, make sure she’s okay.”
“I am. I do. I mean, she right here. She’s fine. Kate, you haven’t even been gone an hour.”
“I know, all right. It just feels like longer. Feed her when she wakes up and make sure to check her diaper. I’m having lunch right now. I need to make a couple more stops, and then I’ll be home. If you need anything, call me on my cell.”
Jim laughed.
“What?”
“You’re having lunch? It’s not even noon yet,” Jim said.
“Yeah, but they stop selling breakfast at eleven.”
“Where are you?”
I laughed. “You don’t want to know.” I shoved a French fry into my mouth.
After we hung up, I ate my lunch and mulled over my notebook. I reviewed the entries from the interview with Jennifer. She told me she’d been with her ex-boyfriend, Winter, on June fifteenth. Never said a peep about an affair with Brad or him coming over to see her that night. Well, why would she?
What did I expect? That she’d come right out and tell me she killed him?
What had Galigani said? That guilty people are not usually paranoid. They want you to ask them questions because they think they can fool you. Jennifer had been extremely forthcoming when I’d met her. Offering up an alibi for the night of Brad’s murder without my asking. Of course, she hadn’t told me about her affair with Brad. Galigani was right, she had fooled me.
I dialed information as I chomped down on my burger, and requested an address for Winter Henderson.
Luck was with me. As it turned out, he lived in the Haight, a few blocks away. I wouldn’t have to deal with parking and I could walk off an entire French fry or two.
I polished off the rest of my burger and packed up my notebook. I refilled my diet soda on the way out, reminding myself not to drink anything offered to me by strangers. By the time I arrived at Winter’s house, I was winded, but my bones didn’t hurt. Progress was progress.
The house was small and square, tucked in between two larger apartment buildings. I rang the bell. A very tall and bearded man answered the door. He had bright boyish eyes that warmed his complexion. I introduced myself and told him I was looking for Winter Henderson.
His face lit up. “That’s me.”
I told him I was investigating Brad Avery’s murder. “I want to ask you a couple questions about the night of June fifteenth.”
He twisted his lips to one side of his mouth. “Him again?”
“You’ve already talked to someone about him?”
He stroked his beard. “The cops. I guess my ex-girlfriend, Jennifer, told them she was with me that night.”
“Was she?”
He shrugged. “I don’t really know. That was months ago.”
I sipped on my soda. “Do you keep a diary, or a calendar or anything?”
“Nope.”
So he didn’t remember spending every night with the woman for three consecutive months?
We shared an awkward moment in the doorway. He was obviously not going to invite me in. I had to think up more questions fast or the door would be closing in my face shortly. “Did your relationship end amiably?”
His clenched his hands into fists, his arms dangling at his sides. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. No, it didn’t.”
“I’m sorry to have to ask this. I’m sure you don’t like to talk about it, but do you know if she was seeing anyone else?”
His face flushed. “You mean while she was seeing me? I don’t know. Who would she have been seeing? No. I don’t think so. We broke up because she got this new job at a store near her house and she kind of changed. Sort of became distant and aloof.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t like that.”
“Of course not,” I said, “Who would like that?”
He nodded and seemed to relax. “Yeah, right. See, she kind of turned nasty.”
Why would she change after leaving El Paraiso? Unless maybe she was under some kind of stress. Of course, if she killed Brad, that could have caused some major stress.
“I really fell for her. I thought we were going to get married.” His voice cracked again.
“Sometimes things work out for the best, even though we don’t think so at the time.”
From inside the house a voice called out, “Winter! Who’s there?”
He turned around as though he’d been struck. “No one, Ma. I’m coming.” He turned to me. “I gotta go.”
“Thanks for your time,” I said, retreating down the stairs.
I walked down the street, reflecting on the case. If Jennifer killed Brad, how could she dispose of the body on her own? Maybe Winter had helped her. Perhaps that was why he didn’t want to give her an alibi. If he admitted to being with her, he could implicate himself as her accomplice.
What could have happened?
Brad was in love with Jennifer, Jennifer was in love with Winter. Brad was pestering her. Hounding her. Wouldn’t leave her alone.
Maybe Jennifer grew afraid her boyfriend, Winter, would find out about the affair? Would that be motive enough to kill Brad?
Jennifer knew George, so maybe she knew about the gun in his bag. She could have taken George’s gun and shot Brad and then asked Winter to help her get rid of the body.
But then why would Winter help her dispose of Brad’s body? That part of my scenario made no sense. I’d have to work on it a bit more.
I sipped my soda as I walked into Heavenly Haight. Incense was burning. The chime rang as I stepped on the floor mat. Jennifer looked up. She glanced at me, but turned her attention back to the customer she was waiting on, who couldn’t decide between unscented candles, which her boyfriend liked, or scented candles, which she preferred.
I fingered a collection of handmade earrings as I waited. As soon as the customer left, Jennifer turned her attention to me.
“What’s up?” she asked, nervously tugging at her blond curls.
My visit was clearly annoying her. “Can you tell me again where you were on June fifteenth?”
“I was with my boyfriend, Winter. I already told you, and that fat cop, too. I mean, how many times do I need to answer the same stupid questions? I was with
Winter.”
“Winter’s not really sure about that.”
Jennifer blinked. “Well, he’s just bitter. He’s upset because I met his stupid mother and she didn’t like me. She didn’t think I was good enough for her little boy, so he broke up with me. Can you believe it? He dumped me because his mommy said so! I was this close to getting engaged.” She made a gesture with her hands, bringing her fingers together.
I noticed the nail on her index finger was broken, making it the only short nail on either hand.
Could she have broken it in a fight with Michelle or Svetlana?
“What happened to your hand?”
“What?” Jennifer glanced down at her hand.
“Your nail. It’s broken.”
“My nails break all the time. I don’t think I’m getting enough protein. I’m a vegetarian, you know, so I have to eat beans and cheese and those kinds of things, but they’re very fattening, so I try to avoid them and my nails get brittle.”
She looked at me. I suppose she expected me to encourage her or applaud her choices. Instead, I sipped on my leftover Diet Coke and wondered what her opinion of McDonald’s was.
“Yeah, so you say you were at Winter’s but he can’t confirm it, so that kind of leaves you without an alibi.”
“Well, I was there.” She played with one of the silver rings around her thumb. “You can ask the neighbors, or whatever you guys do. I don’t know what to tell you. I was there.”
Should I mention the Brad sighting at her apartment?
“How about Thursday morning? Since she’s your boss, I presume you know Svetlana Avery was murdered.”
Jennifer looked genuinely confused. “I was working. Here. Like I always am. I told the cops that, too. Everyone here was shocked when we heard. But we were told to stay open. Business as usual.”
“Someone sure had it out for Brad’s whole family, huh? First him, then Michelle, now the ex-wife.” I eyed her carefully. “With odds like that, I’d hate to be his mistress.”
She grimaced. Our eyes locked. Was that fear in her eyes? She slipped past me and locked the store door, pocketing the key.
“What are you doing?” I said, the panic in my voice scaring even me.
Jennifer ignored me and rummaged through a shelf behind the counter.
Blood roared in my ears. I felt dizzy.
What was she getting, a gun?
If I moved now, I could take her. I was taller. I could push her against the wall, grab the gun, and call 9-1-1.
I rushed the counter and shoved hard against her shoulders. She jumped, dropping the object in her hands. A bong.
“Hey! What are you doing?” she demanded.
I stared at the bong. “When you locked me in here, I thought you had a gun. For Christ’s sake, I’m investigating three murders!”
Jennifer rubbed at her shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted a little something to take the edge off.” She pulled open a drawer. Inside were baggies filled with marijuana.
Who kept that kind of stash in a store?
She selected a bag from the drawer and squatted behind the counter, safely hidden from street view as she lit the bong and inhaled. “Maybe you need a hit, too.”
I exhaled and slumped down next to her. “I’ll pass. Want to tell me about you and Brad?”
After a moment she nodded. “We were working at the restaurant together and, you know, one thing led to another. We were staying out late, partying . . . He was really cool and everything, but a little uptight. So, not totally my type, but, you know, he was so good lookin’.” She opened the baggie and loaded the bong. “Anyway, we were smoking and drinking, and what can I tell you? The sex was really hot, so we just kinda kept at it.”
“Were you seeing each other up until his death?”
“Oh, no! It went down kinda rough. Eventually, I had to tell him that he wasn’t my type. By then I’d started seeing Winter. We were much more alike, much more compatible. I thought he was my soul mate.” She sighed. “I had to tell Brad. He didn’t take it too good . . . cuz, you know, I think he liked me a lot.”
“Why did Brad come to see you on June fifteenth?”
She played with the lighter in her hand. “To try and get back together.”
“You said no?”
“I told him no way in hell. He left really mad. If I had known that I was never gonna see him again, and that Winter was gonna dump me, well, hell, one final final wouldn’t have been too bad.”
“Do you have any idea who killed Brad, Michelle, and Svetlana?” I asked.
Jennifer took a hit and slowly shook her head. “Wish I did.”
•