THERE’S a memorial service for Lisa Yates at a funeral home in Elmwood Park today.
It was listed in the paper yesterday. It drives the cop in me nuts; public announcements like that are an invitation to burglars to rob the house of the deceased and close family members, since it’s a sure bet that no one will be home. It happens all the time.
For us, the service is a good way to find out who was close to Lisa; it will serve as an early guide for who we should be talking with. We’re looking to see who is invited up to give remarks; passing acquaintances don’t get that honor.
I’m also looking to see if Gerald Kline shows up. It certainly wouldn’t prove anything either way, but it will give me a chance to renew my hatred firsthand.
I scan the room when we arrive, but I don’t see Kline among the eighty-one attendees. I have this weird mental need and ability to count things in clusters or groups; I can do it quickly and accurately. I also can instantly count the number of letters in spoken sentences. I used to do it in an attempt to amuse people at parties, which may well be why people stopped inviting me to parties.
The first person to speak is clearly a member of the clergy. I don’t have any idea what religious faith he represents; he’s not wearing a uniform with the team name on his jersey.
He talks about Lisa in general terms, occasionally throwing in a meaningless specific. I would bet anything that he never met her, and that he did a quick cram course with a member of her family a few minutes ago. It bugs me; someone who lived for almost four decades should not have a stranger speaking about her.
When he’s done, Lisa’s sister, Denise, takes her place at the podium. She talks movingly about their growing up together; Lisa was Denise’s “big sister” and was apparently protective of her. She says that Lisa gave her great advice about everything, including men. She smiles ruefully and says, “I should have listened.” This gets a good laugh from the crowd; in my experience crowds will look for pretty much any excuse to laugh during funeral services.
Next up is Una Loge, who tearfully talks about Lisa, describing her as “my best friend.” Una reveals that she was the one who had dinner with Lisa that horrible night, accurately describing the events as senseless and horrible. She talks about how her faith teaches her to forgive and forget, but when it comes to the person who did this, “I will never forgive, and I certainly will never forget.”
Una seems to have much more to say, but she keeps breaking into tears, and another woman comes up and leads her off the stage.
The last speaker is Susan Redick, a coworker of Lisa’s. It is clear that she was not as close to Lisa as were the previous two speakers. She talks of Lisa as a good friend; someone who kept things lively and happy in the office. You could always count on Lisa, according to Susan, no matter how hectic or tense things got.
Once she is finished, an announcement is made as to where the funeral will be, and that everyone is invited. We have no intention or need to go there; we’ve learned all we’re going to learn.
Laurie and I head to the exits; we’re going to try to follow Susan Redick and Una Loge to their cars. We’ll get their license plate numbers, which will in turn give us their addresses and phone numbers. It’s likely that Lisa’s sister, Denise, will be in one of the funeral home cars, but we’ll still get her address later.
I also watch for Gerald Kline again, just in case I didn’t see him in the chapel. There’s still no sign of him. He’s not here, probably too deep in mourning for the woman he smacked around.
I hate that I can no longer bring Simon everywhere.
When we were cops, we were joined at the hip. He was my partner, and rarely did I not have him with me on the job. That night at Lisa Yates’s house was an unfortunate, notable exception. If Simon had been there that night, he would have disliked Kline as much as I did. In a perfect world he would have taken a juicy bite out of his leg.
As a large German shepherd, Simon could be intimidating, especially since he did not do much smiling when he was working. That intimidation usually worked in our favor, but it would be counterproductive at a time like this. I’m going to talk to Denise Yates, Lisa’s younger sister. Laurie has set up the meeting; she has a way of getting people to be willing to talk.
I take Simon for an extra long walk before leaving, as a way of making it up to him. It doesn’t work; he is clearly pissed at me when I head out without him.
It is going to come as a surprise to Denise to see me show up; she’s expecting Laurie. If I had Simon with me, it might kill the interview. Laurie had said that Denise was hesitant to agree to meet in the first place and offered to come along. I said it wasn’t necessary; that I would use my dazzling charm to win Denise over.
To my surprise, she wanted to meet at Lisa’s home on Derrom Avenue. I’ve been here before, and that previous visit is the reason that I’m working this case at all. Standing at the bottom of the steps and looking up at the entrance does not bring back pleasant memories.
I ring the bell and Denise comes to the door. Her eyes are red; my guess is that she has done quite a bit of crying since her sister was murdered.
“Oh,” she says, when I identify myself. “I was expecting Laurie Collins.”
“Laurie is my partner. We’re both working this case. I hope that’s okay.”
She thinks about it, like it just might not be okay, but finally says I can come in. We enter, and I’m struck by how little has changed, and how indelibly the place is carved into my memory.
“This is Lisa’s house,” she says, not realizing that I already know that. “I have to go through some of her papers. I know if I put it off, I’ll never do it. I’m not up to going through the rest of her things; that’s for another day.” She pauses. “I’m actually glad not to be alone.”
“I appreciate your talking to me. I’ll try not to take too much of your time.”
“What is your interest in this?”
“We’re trying to find Lisa’s killer.”
“Why? Are you working with the police?”
“Not officially, but we’ve talked to them.”
“Is somebody paying you?”
I need to be up-front with this woman, so I tell her the truth about the reason for my interest in the case. I end with “I feel I may have let her down that night, and I want to know if that led to what happened.”
She nods. “I understand. If there’s any way I can help…”
“Do you know Gerald Kline?”
She frowns. “Yes.”
“Tell me about his relationship with Lisa.”
“He controlled her; it used to drive me crazy. Lisa was a strong, independent woman, except around that man. He had a way about him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He could be charming. I mean, he ran these seminars and it was literally his job to be charming. But it could be powerful, and Lisa couldn’t handle it.”
“Was she afraid of him?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but it’s possible. We were really close and we talked about everything … everything except Gerald Kline. Lisa knew how I felt about him, so we just avoided it. It made things awkward, as you can imagine. But we got through it.”
“Did Lisa ever express any fear of anyone? Any physical fear?”
“Why? Do you think they were after Lisa? According to the newspaper accounts, the police seem to think it was just some random animals shooting from a car.”
“That’s possible. But it works best for us to assume she was the target. If it turns out that she wasn’t, then we’ll adjust. So did she ever seem afraid of anyone? Like she might be in danger?”
“No, but she had been acting strangely lately. We talked some, but she was cut off more than usual. I thought it might be problems at work, so I didn’t push it.”
“So you’re not aware of any enemies she might have had?”
“Lisa? Lisa was the friendliest, most wonderful person you could ever meet. She did not have an enemy in the world.�
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The one thing that all murder victims have in common, as described by their friends and family, is that they never had an enemy in the world. I rarely point out that someone killed them, an act that some would think might qualify them as an enemy.
I ask Denise to please call me if she thinks of anything that might be relevant to the case. She promises to do so.
I leave, having accomplished as little during this trip to the house as I did during my last one.
LAURIE and I are going to talk with Una Loge together.
I told Laurie that both of us doing it was overkill, but her response was that she should do it and I should stay home. “She’s really fragile and shaken up,” Laurie says. “It wasn’t easy to get her willing to talk.”
The unspoken implication was that Laurie can handle matters with more sensitivity than me. She’s saying that because she can handle matters with more sensitivity than me. On the sensitivity level, I probably rank just below Mike Tyson.
She didn’t want us to come to her home, so we’re meeting at a Starbucks. Una is waiting for us when we arrive; I recognize her from the funeral service. She’s sitting at an outdoor table, but two other occupied tables are nearby. “Why don’t we sit over there?” I point to a table near the side. “We can talk more privately there.”
So we move over. I head in to get coffees for all of us, leaving Laurie to make Una comfortable. By the time I get back, they are smiling like good buddies. Laurie has that way about her.
“I got some scones also in case anyone wants one.” I put down the coffee and scones.
“No thanks,” Laurie says, and Una turns them down as well.
“Perfect. I was hoping to have all of them for myself.”
Laurie says, “Una, I know this is difficult, but we want to ask you questions about Lisa, and about that night.”
“It was horrible.”
“Tell us what happened, please.”
Una takes a deep breath. “There really isn’t that much to tell. We had dinner and said good-bye at the door. I had parked with the valet, and she parked on the street. I was waiting for my car when I heard these loud noises; I didn’t know what they were, maybe firecrackers.
“Then people were screaming and running in all directions. I ran back into the restaurant with some other people; I wasn’t even sure why. Then somebody said they were gunshots.
“All of a sudden the police were there and they questioned all of us about what we saw. All this time I didn’t even think about Lisa; I had no idea that she was … that she was … one of the victims. I called her when I got home to tell her what happened.
“She didn’t answer, so I started to get worried. Then I turned on the news and I found out.… I still can’t believe it. It seems surreal.”
“Did she act normally during your dinner?” I ask. “Did she seem concerned about anything, or even afraid?”
Una seems surprised by the question. “Why? You don’t think she was the target, that they were after her, do you?”
“We’re investigating all possibilities,” Laurie asks.
“Okay, but I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt Lisa.”
“How did she act during the dinner?”
Una thinks about it for a few moments. “Well, I guess she seemed a little distant. When I asked her about it, she mentioned some problems at work. I used to work there and she usually shared stuff about the office with me, but this time she didn’t want to.”
“Do you know Gerald Kline?” Laurie asks. I would have asked the same question, but my mouth is full with the second scone.
Una frowns. “I do.”
“You don’t like him?”
“I didn’t like the way he treated her. He controlled her; he thinks he controls everything.”
It’s the same way that Lisa’s sister described Kline and his relationship with Lisa. “Why didn’t she break it off with him?” I ask.
Una looks surprised again. “What do you mean? She did, like six weeks ago. I don’t know what took her so long.”
“They split up?” Laurie asks, and Una nods in response.
“Did she say anything about it? Maybe describe why, or what happened?” I ask.
“Not really. Just that it was over, and that she was glad about it. She said it was time to move on, to make major changes in her life.” Then, “She never got that chance.”
“She didn’t express a fear of him? That he might hurt her?”
Una looks around, as if someone might be listening in. “I shouldn’t be saying this; she asked me never to talk about it. But I guess circumstances have changed.”
“What is it?” Laurie asks.
“He hit her, once. She told me about it when it happened. She said the police came to the house, but she denied it. She made up a story. I told her she had to get rid of that guy, that if it happened once, it would happen again. But it never did, or if it did, she never told me about it. And she would tell me everything.”
“The police didn’t do anything?” I ask, unfortunately knowing the answer, and I’m not sure why I need to hear it reinforced. Laurie frowns at the question; she probably doesn’t know why I continue to beat myself up. I’m not sure myself.
Una shakes her head. “No. Lisa said the officer just asked some questions and left.”
ALL that Gerald Kline did with this particular cell phone was answer it when it rang.
They had given it to him only to answer their calls. He was not to make outgoing calls, except to one person, and was not to text or do anything else with it. He had his own phone for all of that.
Only one person ever called him. He referred to himself as Carlos, but Kline did not know if that was his real name. The people Carlos represented, and perhaps Carlos himself, were brilliant. Kline had never been associated with anyone like them; they knew everything and could do everything. And they paid him well … very, very well.
The call came when Kline was at home. The phone had a distinctive ring, and since it rang so infrequently, it never failed to jar him. These calls were always important, never casual, and they made Kline nervous.
Carlos never bothered with “hello”; he considered it a waste of time. “Someone is watching you, checking you out.”
The statement caught Kline by surprise. “Who?”
“At this point we don’t know. They are very good at what they do and so far are successfully concealing their identity.”
If Carlos said they were good, Kline knew, then they were damn good. “What are they looking for?”
“Everything. Your history. Your finances. Everything. Who would be doing this?”
“I have no idea.”
“That is not an acceptable response. You must have triggered something with your activities.”
“I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary. I swear.”
“Think about it; there is something. I want to hear from you soon.”
Click.
Kline got off the phone worried. Not about the people who were checking on him, but about Carlos and his people. Kline did not want to do anything to annoy them; this was not a job he could afford to lose.
The money was too damn good.
“I hate to say this, but we just may be spinning our wheels,” Laurie says.
I know what she means. Lisa seems to have been fairly tight-lipped about her relationship with Kline, which means we are unlikely to get any incriminating information about him from Lisa’s family and friends. While they did not like him, they didn’t discuss it much with Lisa.
That means our only hope is to tie Kline to the actual shooter.
“You have any suggestions?”
Laurie nods. “Just one. We go straight at Kline; we tell him that we’re onto him and that we’re going to nail him. Then we watch him, monitor his calls, and see how he reacts. Maybe we’ll get nothing from it, but we might scare him. That in itself would be some satisfaction, wouldn’t it?”
“It would. I think it’s a go
od idea.”
“Good. I’ll get Marcus on it. He can figure out the best way to go at him. And I’ll get Sam on the phone stuff.”
I know what she means about “phone stuff.” Sam will break into the phone company computers and monitor who Kline calls, especially in the period right after we confront him.
It’s illegal, which troubles me greatly. Andy is always fine with it; Laurie somewhat less so. Their argument is that if it ever got into court, we could subpoena the same records legally; this just gives us a needed head start. I’ve reluctantly gone along with it in the past, and I’m sure I will cave again in this instance.
I nod. “Okay, thanks. I’m looking forward to meeting Mr. Kline again.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. I can handle it.”
“You shouldn’t be alone; there’s no telling what might happen.”
“I won’t be alone; I’ll have Simon with me. If you’re there when I beat the shit out of him, it will make me self-conscious. It’s a guy thing.”
“I know you’re kidding. You are kidding, right?”
“I am. Mostly.”
Laurie calls Sam first, and before she can give him the new assignment, he says he wants to come over and give a report on where he is now. In the meantime, I go home to get Simon.
I’ve been feeling guilty leaving him alone so much; he’s not used to it. He’s a working dog who loved his job, and I don’t think this partial retirement is coming easy for him.
I’ve thought about getting him a friend, and I’ve notified the K-9 department that if any dogs reach retirement age, and their handlers don’t want them, then I would take them. I doubt it will happen; most handlers feel about their dogs like I feel about Simon. Giving him up was and is completely inconceivable.
I get Simon and go back to Laurie’s. When we pull up to the house, Simon perks up immediately. He knows this is where Tara lives. Simon needs a friend.
Sam is already here and talking with Laurie. “What did I miss?” I ask.
“Sam was just telling me that the Mets stink. It was fascinating.”
Animal Instinct Page 3