Just Evil (48 page)

Jake got up and went to Kit. “That’s why it was locked up,
hidden away. Alana could have thrown it away, gotten rid of it, but she kept it
around all this time hidden in the attic. This has to be what they’ve been
looking for.” 

“I knew it. I just knew it was the gun,” Dylan stated, as he
leaned over the box, inspecting the weapon and got into the spirit of the game.
“Could be she locked the gun away and forgot about it, forgot where she hid the
safe. We did find it in a box labeled books. Then again, she could have kept it
around for a little additional insurance, blackmail maybe in case Jessica ever
got the urge to make a point.”

Grabbing a tablet and pen off the buffet, Quinn sat down at
the table. “We need to make a timeline, something to connect the dots. We need
to go through all this stuff you found, piece by piece, get it organized. If
it’s solid enough, we could take it to Holloway.”

“Now we’re talking,” Jake said. But when he noticed the
dubious look on Reese’s face, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

 “Jake, this is nuts. None of this constitutes proof of
anything. It’s speculation, nothing more.”

“That’s why we need to connect the dots. Look, I know it’s
far-fetched, but it’s a start. Let me ask you something, can you guarantee me
that St. John won’t prematurely arrest Kit tomorrow?”

“Well, no.”

“Then sit down, grab a handful of those papers out of the
box, and shut the fuck up.”

A couple of hours later, they’d gone through the entire box.
With Quinn keeping track of each document, acting as gatekeeper, they’d made an
inventory list of Alana’s activities and dates that covered two years prior to
the Parker murders and five years after.

They knew, for example, that Alana had married Will
Forrester in 1967, an engineer employed by McKetrick Construction, a company
involved in a major lawsuit brought by the Parkers, and that Jessica Boyd,
Alana’s best friend had represented the Parkers from day one.

The copies of the cashier’s checks showed Alana had received
$500,000 over a period of twenty months starting six months after their court
victory on December 20, 1967, and ending August 20, 1969, five days after the
Parkers had been found dead. And Reese found documents confirming that Alana
had brokered the Parker real estate deal with her future husband Robert Carlton
as the buyer. 

Looking around the room, an invigorated Kit announced, “I’d
say we’re on to something.”

But it was Jake who opened his cell phone, dialed Jordan
Donovan, himself and told him, “When you interview Will Forrester, I want to be
there.”

Jake wasn’t about to leave Kit alone no matter how many
protests she made about having a babysitter. But when it came time to talk to
Will Forrester, the former McKetrick engineer, he’d made up his mind. At nine
o’clock Sunday morning, he dumped Kit at Gloria’s guest cottage into Baylee’s
waiting arms under the guise that Baylee needed help with a fussy Sarah. It had
been a weak excuse, one he might have to pay for later, but she’d gone along
without complaint. In the meantime, he headed to Van Nuys where Forrester had
agreed to meet him and Jordan Donovan at a coffee shop on Sepulveda.

When he got there Jordan, a big man at least six-four and a
former cop in his late thirties, was already deep in conversation with a
slightly built, balding man in his early sixties, sitting at a booth in the
back.

At the mention of Alana it didn’t take much prompting for
the man to start talking.

“She was a secretary in another division of McKetrick. New
at her job, and not very good at it from what people said. But Christ, she was
a looker. I mean gorgeous from head to toe. When she approached me, I thought
it was some kind of a joke. The first night we went out, we ended up in bed.
She was...incredible.” He looked a little embarrassed. “Four weeks later we
were married. I know I was stupid. Even after all these years, it pisses me off
that she played me like a drum. I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it
out. Immediately after the Parker trial ended, she quits her job, runs off to
Reno. I get divorce papers within the week from Jessica Boyd.”

“What exactly was your role in the trial?” Jake asked.

“I was subpoenaed to be a witness for the Parkers. I figured
Alana had something to do with that, too. She knew I dealt with the toxin
reports that I knew which carcinogens were in the waste. I had nothing to do
with the actual dumping, mind you, but I knew we were getting rid of some very
toxic chemicals like pentaerythritol found in surface coatings, and
hexamethylene tetramine found in phenol-formaldehyde resins. After Parker filed
suit, management told me to shred all the toxin reports related to the dump
sites. I did what I was told.” 

Jake exchanged looks with Jordan, before he asked, “Did
Alana know the documents were gone?”

Forrester nodded.

But it was Jake who asked, “Then there were no documents
lying around proving McKetrick dumped anything toxic on Parker’s land.”

“Exactly. But then one afternoon a copy of a report showed
up on my desk I knew for certain I’d destroyed. That’s when the phone calls
started coming in the middle of the night, telling me I’d better come clean. I
knew those chemicals were highly toxic to animals and humans. I knew McKetrick
had a habit of dumping the stuff in rural areas. I felt guilty about that. So
when they subpoenaed me, I testified for the other side. Imagine my surprise
when more documents showed up at trial, documents that looked real enough but
ones I knew I’d shredded. When I testified under oath, I’d shredded certain
reports myself at the direction of management, the next thing I knew,
McKetrick’s lawyers asked for a recess and settled out of court.

“But I didn’t put it all together, didn’t suspect a thing
until after Alana left the company, and disappeared. By then of course, the
trial was over, the Parkers had won their lawsuit, the lawyers got their cut,
and I was divorced and out of a job. The lawsuit bankrupted McKetrick. What was
I going to do about it then, admit to the world that I’d been maneuvered by a
gorgeous blonde who didn’t give a shit about me?”

“So you never told anyone, no one ever asked you about this
until now?”

“I never talked about it with a living soul until today.”

“Did you know the Parkers personally?”

“No. But after the trial Jessica ended up as the trustee of
their estate. I read it in the paper. After the Parkers died I wondered what
happened to all that money.”

Later when Jake relayed the story to Kit while she rolled
out pastry dough, in preparation of going back to work come Monday, in typical
Kit-fashion, her sympathy was with Will Forrester. “Poor man. I bet he was in
love with her.”

“Well, he got over it pretty quick after she dumped him
without a backward glance. I got the impression that until the day he dies, he
won’t be thinking kind thoughts about Alana.”

“So this proves the half a million was payout for her role
in the whole charade?”

“Not according to Reese. Just because Will’s story is a sad
tale it isn’t proof Alana and Jessica killed the Parkers. But layer by layer
we’re working on building all the evidence we need to make a case before going
to the cops. And we’ve got the gun. Jordan is contacting the sheriff’s office
to see if he can rattle someone’s cage over there.”

“To someone like Alana and Jessica, millions of dollars
would be a tempting motive for murder. Think about it, they see the Parkers as
old, and bless their hearts they’d just gotten word their only son was missing
in Vietnam. Alana and Jessica view them as vulnerable, heartbroken, pathetic.
My God, to Alana and Jessica they must have seemed like sitting ducks.” As Kit
opened the oven door, she added matter-of-factly, “But what we need is
something solid, something irrefutable.”

At six o’clock the next morning, Jake packaged up the dozens
of individual spinach and asparagus quiche tarts Kit had baked the night before
while she worked on getting the chocolate chip muffins bagged to transport to
the car.

When they opened the front door of the house to carry out the
first load of food, they saw the hordes of people loitering at the end of the
driveway. And they all seemed to have either a camera or a microphone clutched
in their hands. It quickly became apparent that word had finally reached the
media that Kit might soon be arrested for the murder of Alana.

The minute the reporters spotted Jake and Kit trying to make
their way to the car, they came alive, hurling questions and accusations at
them both in rapid-fire succession. Not all of the questions were about Alana’s
murder. A few of them had done their homework and uncovered all the gory
details about Claire Boston’s murder as well, which made Jake and Kit an odd
and interesting couple on the morning news. All the way to the Book & Bean,
the press hounded them. The siege from the media made the ten minute trip take
twice as long.

Even though they parked behind the store, the minute they
started unloading the car, an on-air personality with a camera crew in tow,
surrounded them and began firing questions. But Jake and Kit refused to take
the bait, refusing comment.

Once they were inside the store though, Jake told her, “We
use this to our advantage. I need to get Reese out here to make a statement on
your behalf, standing in front of the coffee shop. From this point on, every
time these guys ask, you just keep telling them you did nothing wrong, you have
nothing to hide, and that you’re being harassed by the police.”

With all the media descending on the Book & Bean,
business tripled. Kit and Baylee were so busy they alternated between handling
the lines behind the counter in the coffee shop to digging for titles and
ringing up sales in the bookstore. When the quiche and chocolate chip muffins
disappeared by eight-thirty, Kit wished she’d had the foresight to have baked
more.

With so many news people and strangers milling around the
place, Jake stuck to Kit like glue. At one point, he even stepped behind the
counter and did his best to fill simple orders for coffee since he had no idea
how to work any of the equipment.

By the time Gloria got there, Kit welcomed the influx of
items she brought to the already dwindling inventory. The customers pounced on
the mint brownies, the oatmeal raisin cookies, and cherry tarts before Kit had
a chance to unpack the goodies. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Glo,” Kit commented, as Gloria stepped
behind the counter to help fill orders.

“Well, if I’d known I’d be on the news, I would have worn my
black dress, the one that makes me look like I’m fifteen pounds thinner. And I
called Quinn told her if she got the chance to DVR the news at noon.”

As the morning wore on, the atmosphere became more like a
party. The coffee flowed, sales picked up inside the bookstore, and the locals
turned out in defense of their girl.

Kit had never been more proud of the whole town.

Reese showed up in time to give a live interview in front of
the shop for the mid-day newscast. He answered questions for half an hour from
every media source from as far away as Tijuana. When they asked about what
evidence linked Kit to Alana’s murder, Reese pointed out there was none, then
volleyed insults back at the police, questioning their dogged pursuit, if not
downright hounding of his client. When they brought up Kit’s abuse, Reese
managed to turn the tables, reminding them that Kit was the victim here. The
question though, cemented his belief that St. John had leaked the information
to the press. How else would they have known about Kit’s abusive childhood?

By mid-afternoon, the hubbub had died down somewhat when
most of the reporters took their film and lead-off story and headed back to
L.A. to make their evening deadline.

As Kit propped her feet up on one of the chairs, exhausted,
she had to admit it had been one of the most successful days in sales in the
four year history of the Book & Bean. “I’ll just put a sign on the door
that says we’re sold out of food and books and coffee. I’ll have to re-order
coffee. They drank every flavor I had in stock. I even managed to get rid of
that raspberry flavored crap I mistakenly ordered weeks ago. Do you think
they’ll be back tomorrow? How much food should I bake?”

Jake couldn’t believe her demeanor. “You’re worried about
how much to bake? You’re taking this a lot better than I am.”

“Difference in personalities. Difference in histories. And besides
you’re a guy. Hey, I’m just practicing that old adage, when life gives you
lemons, make lemonade.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve never heard that expression?”

“No, not that.”

 “What? You mean the fact that you’re a guy. Well, it’s all
about ego…”

“Not that, the history thing, what do you mean by that?”

“Oh that. Our histories are different that’s all. You’re
successful, come from a calm, stable home environment. So you don’t react very
well to chaos. My history is reaped in chaos. It’s the only atmosphere I had
going for me for years. So I’m used to it, while you’re not. Understand?”

“Yeah, I do.” And the sad thing was he really did.

At five-thirty Kit and Jake pulled into the garage at Kit’s
house and began to unload the bakery trays from the car. She gathered
everything from the back seat, while Jake emptied the stuff from the trunk.
Their arms laden down with empty pastry trays and metal food carriers, Jake
took the house key out of Kit’s hand and made his way around the car to unlock
the door going into the first floor laundry room. The minute he stepped inside,
Kit heard a thud, and then the sound of metal hit the tile floor. As she got to
the doorway, she looked in and saw Jake sprawled on his stomach, face down.