Daddy's Little Killer (25 page)

"I see."

"Not even Commander Broom up the Ass showed
a speck of trust that Haverston and I will get to the bottom of
this."

"I take it you're talking about Commander
Darnell from OSI."

"Can you believe the nerve of this
guy?  He was actually gonna rip the case out of my hands and
give it to the state police in his elite task force."  I
picked off the corner of my croissant and gauged Orion's reactions
out of the corner of my eye.

"Darnell used to be some sort of commanding
officer in the Marines," Orion said.  "He's not the enemy,
Doc."

"If he's in the way of me
doing my job, he most certainly is.  Plus, he made some
comment this morning that made me wonder if
he
isn't behind those surveillance
devices in my hotel room."

One finger traced the rim of his coffee
cup.  Orion's voice was low, serious.  "He's a good
man.  Don't hold it against him simply because he understands
the stakes in this.  Darkwater Bay cannot afford to have
another case like Brighton's go cold."

"It's far from that.  It hasn't even
been two days yet.  Either people wanted me here because they
believed that fresh eyes could make a difference or they
didn't.  I am not a politician, Orion.  I won't play
those games when I'm working a case.  And I was pretty clear
about the terms of our arrangement this morning.  We either do
this my way, or we're done.  I won't be a quiet lamb led to
the slaughter like –"

His eyebrows danced high on his
forehead.  "Like I was?"

"That sounds rather insensitive, but
yes.  You let yourself be the scapegoat in something you
couldn't possibly have done."

"And how is it that you've become so certain
of that fact, Helen?  Like you said, you haven't even been
here for two days."

I dragged my lower lip through my teeth a
couple of times in the course of a great debate.  Exactly how
much trust did I need to engender with Orion?  A little more
wouldn't hurt, and it might be invaluable down the road. 

"The procedure for handling evidence
collected in the process of autopsy," I said.  "I have it on
high authority that it hasn't changed over the years."

"So?"

"It would've been impossible for you to get
a vial of Bennett's blood containing EDTA to plant evidence on
Masconi's clothing.  Ergo, whoever did the deed had help, had
access to evidence that would've left a trail, had anybody bothered
to look for it."

His gaze grew uncomfortably tender before it
skittered away.  "I don't think that's a point that anyone
bothered to consider.  Thank you."

The knot in my belly that hadn't yet
dissipated from the confrontation in Hardy's conference room
unfurled on the wings of a billion butterflies.  I struggled
to tamp down the tingling nerve endings and confused synapses that
resulted in an urge to crawl into Orion's lap and promise that I
believed he was a good man.

Logic whispered through my
brain. 
So he didn't tamper with
evidence.  So what if his alibi is iron clad.  Anybody
could've saved you from Kelly and Varden.  This man is the
enemy, Helen.  He's a liar, a slick manipulator who would've
said or done anything to seduce you Monday night.

Part of me didn't want to give a damn about
that.  There comes a time in a woman's life when the need for
physical intimacy outweighs all other concerns, no matter how
practical they are.  I had stretched several months beyond the
breaking point.  It may be a primary difference between men
and women, but only in the duration of how long those needs can be
denied.  After all, men are the weaker sex.  Y is nothing
more than a broken X.

I'm a sucker for sincerity.  I know
this.  Shaking off the trappings of his lure, I cleared my
throat.  "Well, it would appear that the detectives at central
aren't the only ones who struggle with investigations."

"They had their man.  Why dig for the
truth?"

"Hmm," I sipped the dark roast Orion had
slid in front of me.  "We'll see about that.  This isn't
over, Orion.  Weber and Hardy wanted answers.  If I have
to cram the truth down their throats, I'll do it.  It's like
my father always said.  Be careful what you wish for."

Johnny avoided eye contact and started
playing with his food again.  "Helen …"

"Uh-oh.  This sounds serious."

"Monday night, was anything you told me the
truth?"

"Sometimes nothing is completely true or
completely a lie."

"That's a non-answer.  Don't use your
bag of psychological tricks.  It's important to me."

"Mostly half-truths," I said.

"Maybe someday, you'll trust me enough to
tell me everything."

And maybe I'd get a lobotomy while I was at
it.

His shoulders slumped.  "I'll get you a
city directory so you're not wandering around blind running errands
today."

"I don't rate a long shadow from my
protector today?"

"We've both got work to do."  Orion
slid away from the table.  "Besides, I'm pretty sure that the
FBI is keeping a close enough eye on you and Kelly and Varden to
avert any further attempts."

Damn that man, but he made a good point.

Chapter 23 

Theresa Oswald was a perky, blonde
forty-something who could've easily been on the radar of my
prolific rapist-slash-suspected murderer in years past.  She
pulled out a file of properties that she swore would meet my
criteria for privacy and security with the enthusiasm of a shark
entering a beach side swimming area for the first time.

"There are a couple of lovely penthouses out
on Hennessey Island."

I wrinkled my nose.  Secure,
perhaps.  Private?  No.

"You may not know this, but Hennessey Island
has the lowest crime rate in the state."

"So I've been told.  I really prefer
private residences, Ms. Oswald."

"Well, we've got Beach Cliffs.  There
is one property that isn't technically on the market yet, but it
does have a few furnishings that the owner is trying to decide if
he'll sell with the house or if he has time to come back to the
city to properly close up the house."

"It's not for sale yet?"

"He's testing the waters with a new job in
Chicago through the winter.  If he can tough it out through
the wind and snow, he'll sell the place.  If not, he'll want
to return here.  So you see, the house isn't really for sale,
more of a lease with an option to purchase in six months."

"Honestly, that sounds perfect.  Is
there any chance I could look at this house today?"

"Certainly, Dr. Eriksson, but I should tell
you that he wants all six months up front, which of course would
apply to the sale price of the property, as the down payment. 
It's quite a lot of money, which is why it's been sitting empty for
three months."

Not an issue.  I pasted on an
expression of haggling hesitation.  "So he's not even going to
make it through winter in Chicago?  It's June right now, Ms.
Oswald."

"Right, so he endured March in Chicago and
thinks he's ready for November and December.  I expect that
life in the big city has him enamored enough that the weather isn't
going to be a factor."

"Exactly how much are we talking about?"

"Twenty percent of the sale price as a down
payment, and the leasing fee."

"Which is how much exactly?"

"Just above half a million.  I know
that sounds incredibly steep, Dr. Eriksson."

"What it sounds like is a scam.  This
guy lives in another city for six months while some poor sap
depletes their life savings in the hopes that it'll truly be a down
payment on an expensive piece of real estate, only to end up paying
half a million dollars for a six month lease.  I don't know
what universe this guy lives in, but that sounds like theft to
me.  Who in their right mind would pay almost 100 thousand
dollars a month for rent?"

"I'm sorry," she dripped saccharine from
perfectly straight teeth.  "I was unclear.  The majority
of the funds will be held in an escrow account.  Should the
owner decide to return to Darkwater Bay in six months, the amount
deducted is equal to approximately six-thousand per month, not 100
thousand."

"It's steep, but not too much of a
stretch.  I'd like to see the house, know a bit more about the
security."

Oswald delved into her sales pitch inclusive
of gated properties and high-tech security systems, locations on
Darkwater Bay's prestigious cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean,
and all the modern amenities a woman of my discerning taste could
want.  The dolt had me at gated property and security system
and didn't even realize it.

"Four bedrooms, five full
baths, a gourmet kitchen, formal dining, a spacious living room, a
den with built-in bookshelves.  As a doctor, that might be a
feature you'd enjoy.  The back yard is landscaped and has a
permanent in-ground pool.  But the most stunning feature of
the property in my opinion is the beautiful lanai at the back of
the house.  It overlooks the landscaped yard, the pool
and
the
Pacific."

"I thought this was a
gated property.  Am I incorrect that it implies
fenced
as
well?"

She chuckled.  "Unless you're getting
robbed by Spiderman, there's no way anyone would bother scaling
Beach Cliff.  It's a treacherous climb, almost a three hundred
foot drop directly down to craggy rock and crashing waves. 
Some of the neighbors have constructed fences that don't completely
obscure the view, but there has never been a report of a burglary
in Beach Cliffs."

"So I take it there's no literal beach at
the base of these cliffs.  Odd choice in names."

"It's as if the beach is your back
yard."  One hand fluttered over her chest.

"Sounds dreamy."  Internal eye
roll.  "When can I see it?"

"We can go right now, if you're free."

"As a bird."  I grabbed my purse, and
within an hour arranged the wire transfer for my down
payment.  Even though Theresa's sales skills were dubious at
best, she was in luck.  The property sold itself, particularly
the security system which was indeed state of the art. 

"As soon as this transfer clears, I can drop
off the keys.  Where are you staying, Dr. Eriksson?"

"LaPierre Tower.  You can leave them at
the front desk for Michel.  He'll see to it that I get
them."

By noon, I was back in Johnny's lair busy
installing software.  He wasn't around, just like he said
earlier over croissant and coffee.  I thought about a power
nap and my agreement with Jerry Lowe.  Curiosity and impulse
trumped caution.  I grabbed my cell phone and called the
number on his card.

"Jerry Lowe."

"Jerry, it's Helen Eriksson."

"I was hoping to hear from you sooner rather
than later.  Are you hungry?"

"Famished," I said.  It was true. 
The croissant from breakfast had helped quell hunger pangs, but no
longer.

He rattled off the address to his
home.  "It's in Nightingale.  I trust you remember the
route."

"Unfortunately, I do.  I'm going to be
about another hour before I can meet you.  Does that
work?"

"Perfectly.  It'll give me time to whip
up something fitting for the occasion.  If you have any
trouble finding the house, call my cell.  I'll keep it on when
I get home."

My caffeine buzz was history.  I
rummaged through Orion's kitchen until I found his dark roast and
brewed half a pot.  The software was on auto pilot.  The
ironing board and steam iron were stored in the room Orion had
deposited me in that morning.  All I needed to do was run a
search on the names of my perp's surviving victims.  I crossed
my fingers and hoped that at least a couple of them were still
local enough for a road trip later this afternoon.

My cell phone chimed.

"Eriksson."

"Hey, Helen."

"Charlie.  How goes the evidence
processing at the crime lab?"

"When was the last time you talked to
Lieutenant Forsythe?"

"At the Foster residence.  Why?"

"They found a key at the scene."

"Is that unusual?  I'd imagine that
she, like the rest of us, have a number of them lying around."

"This one was on the floor under the coffee
table.  They might've missed it if the flash from Jones's
camera hadn't illuminated it.  Here's the thing, Helen. 
The key was on a broken chain.  Forsythe said there was tissue
on the chain."

I sat up straight.  "Like it might've
been pulled off the attacker during a struggle?"

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking.  The
key itself is pretty unusual, Helen."

"Describe it."

"It's the size and shape of a skeleton key,
but it's some kind of flattened aluminum.  There appear to be
numbers or letters engraved on one side, but they're eaten
away.  Forsythe says he can use some kind of acid something or
other to lift whatever's there."

"Sure," I said.  "It's a process often
used to restore serial numbers that have been obscured.  What
does it open?  Any clue?"

"I've got Thieg out with a photograph
checking banks for safety deposit boxes, the bus depot, the
airport, basically any place with public lockers for rent."

"What about the post office?"

"Nada, chief.  Our post office is
antiquated.  They've still got boxes with the little
combination locks on them."

"It narrows the field.  That's not a
bad thing, Charlie.  What about the DNA?  Did you get an
ETA from Winslow on the DNA testing?"

"She made me promise to tell you exactly
what she said."

I laughed softly.  "Let's hear it."