Murder Over Cocktails: The 2nd Nikki Hunter Mystery (Nikki Hunter Mysteries) (16 page)

Chapter 30

I
crossed the threshold and inhaled the aroma of cinnamon and apples.

“Would you like some tea? I just made a pot,” she said, ushering me into the living room.

“I’m not usually much of a tea drinker, but that smells really good.”

I glanced at my surroundings and wondered if this was Loretta’s home as well as her place of business. The living room was simply decorated. A seascape above the fireplace, a loveseat covered in brown and gold plaid, two easy chairs, and a glass-topped coffee table. In the corner near the front window a portable fan hummed from a mahogany end table. There was a small dining room with a pass-through opening, beyond which I glimpsed a homey kitchen.

Loretta set two cups and a ceramic teapot on the coffee table next to a sugar bowl and a small pitcher of milk. She poured for both of us.

“Sit down, dear. Make yourself comfortable.”

I chose an arm chair, not wanting to be a cliché and recline on the loveseat while unburdening myself. Loretta smiled thoughtfully at my seating selection before planting herself on the loveseat. She handed me a cup.

“Thank you,” I said.

I added a splash of milk and took a sip. It actually tasted as good as it smelled.

She tucked her feet up underneath her and looked at me over her teacup. “I understand you’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

I took another sip of the tea, not knowing where to begin.

“I’ve never been in therapy,” I finally said. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Why don’t you tell me about what happened. Bill mentioned you were working on a very dangerous investigation.”

I wondered how much she already knew. Working with cops who had killed in the line of duty meant she would be accustomed to hearing gruesome details, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk about all of them.

“I killed a woman,” I said, and winced at the way that sounded. “She was a multiple murderer. I watched some videos of what she did to her lovers. My client …” I stopped, realizing I was about to breach confidentiality. In a murder investigation, even a therapist’s records can be subpoenaed. “My client dropped off some videotapes he found in this woman’s house. She’d taped herself killing her lovers. She was a lesbian. She would have sex with a woman and then cut her throat and dismember the body. There were five that I know of. I watched the tapes.”

The horror of the past week began to clog my throat, and I drank some more tea before going on.

“I was hired to find a way to stop her. At first I thought I’d be able to collect enough evidence to point the police in the right direction, but it quickly became apparent that wasn’t going to happen, so I decided to let her seduce me.” I took a deep breath and shuddered at the memory. “The idea was that afterwards she would attempt to kill me, you see, and the whole thing would be on videotape, because she taped the murders, but it didn’t work out the way I’d planned. She came at me so fast with that knife.” I swallowed hard. “I had no choice. I had to shoot her.”

Loretta nodded sympathetically, but said nothing.

“I’ve had trouble sleeping since I took the case,” I continued. “When I do sleep, I have horrific nightmares.”

She nodded again, and said, “Why do you think the woman you killed deserved to live and you do not?”

What the hell?
“I don’t think that!” I said, a little too loud.

“Then why do you have anxiety about killing her in order to save your own life, and perhaps the lives of many others?”

“I’m just having some trouble sleeping. Isn’t that normal in a situation like this?”

“You’re not here to talk about what’s normal, Nicoli. You’re here to talk about what you’re feeling.”

I wondered if she was trying
to piss me off. Maybe that was part of the therapy.
Let’s find out
, I thought. “What I’m feeling right now is angry,” I said.

“And what are you angry about?”

“I’m angry about the way you’re talking
down
to me.”

She raised an amused eyebrow and smiled benevolently. “Good for you, dear.” She set her tea cup on the coffee table and refilled it. “Insomnia is about not feeling safe. Since you were putting your own life at risk in order to stop this woman from killing again, it makes sense that you wouldn’t feel safe. But now that she’s dead, I imagine it’s something else that’s keeping you awake. What do you think that might be?”

“The police can’t find the knife,” I said.

She looked a question at me.

“She came at me with a knife. When I shot her it must have flown out of her hand, but the police haven’t been able to find it. I can only assume that someone else was there that night who saw what happened and took the knife, though I have no idea why anyone would do that.”

“So the truth is, you are
not
safe.”

“I guess not.”

“I’d say you have a perfectly good reason to stay awake.”

“Well that’s reassuring.” I hadn’t meant to sound quite so sarcastic. But she smiled again, so I guess that was okay with her. “Now what?”

“Now we talk about the details of what happened. I don’t need to hear them, but it’s important for you to share everything with someone, so you can let go of what’s tying you up inside. Are you game?”

“I suppose.”

“Good. Whatever makes you the most uncomfortable is probably the most important thing to share.”

“Great.”

“Therapy isn’t easy, Nicoli. It takes work. For someone like you, letting go of what’s hurting you will probably feel like letting go of control. But you’re safe here, and letting go of something painful is ultimately much easier than carrying it around for the rest of your life.”

I thought back to my childhood and my cousin Aaron, the many beatings I’d endured when my parents simply took his word for it that I’d committed his crimes. Maybe I should have begun therapy years ago.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Over the next forty-five minutes I talked my way through everything that had happened from the time I viewed the videotapes until I’d been charged with Maggie’s murder, leaving out only the details about Jack. I even told Loretta about having sex with Maggie in the swimming pool and how that made me feel about myself. She said little during my discourse, but frequently nodded, encouraging me to continue.

When I had finished she refilled my cup and said, “That must have been horrible for you.”

I wasn’t sure if she was referring to the act of killing another human being, or reliving the whole thing today. Both were horrible, but she was right. I felt lighter having told someone all the details I’d been keeping inside.

By the end of our session I found myself liking Loretta. Even if I didn’t continue with the therapy, I felt I might have found a new friend.

As I rose to leave she said, “Would you like to schedule another appointment?”

I wanted to come back, but at this point I didn’t know if I’d be free to do so. I might find myself in jail after the arraignment.

“Can I call you?”

“Of course, dear. I’ll look forward to hearing from you. Perhaps when things settle down a bit we can work on enhancing that intuition of yours. Build the muscle, so to speak.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You have a gift, Nicoli. Have you never considered learning how to cultivate your ability?”

“How do you know I have a gift?”

“Everything about you practically screams it. I imagine it’s easy for you to determine someone’s intentions just by looking at them, perhaps making eye contact or shaking hands, am I right?”

I nodded dumbly.

“Well, that’s something we can explore when you come back.” She smiled that sweet encouraging smile at me again. “Good luck on Tuesday.”

She handed me a printed page of things to try if the insomnia persisted.

I said, “Thank you,” and tucked the list into my bag. I couldn’t remember telling Loretta that my preliminary hearing was on Tuesday, and wondered if Bill had mentioned it, or if she had somehow divined the information.

At the door she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. I felt accepted, almost absolved. I walked outside thinking maybe everything would work out after all.

I climbed into the BMW, lowered the windows, lit a cigarette, and took out the list Loretta had given me.

1. Get plenty of fresh air and exercise
   
2. Don’t drink any coffee after noon, and no beverages at all after 5:00 p.m.
   
3. Eat only carbohydrates for dinner
   
4. Go to bed at the same time every night
   
5. Never look at the clock when you’re trying to sleep
   
6. If you can’t go to sleep, or wake up in the night, get out of bed and go into a different room
   
7. Slow, deep breathing
   
8. Read a romance novel, or any book you know will have a happy ending
   
9. Watch a movie you’ve seen before that makes you feel safe and secure
   
10. Make a list of everything that’s bothering you and decide to deal with it tomorrow
    

I shoved the list back into my purse and started the car.

When I arrived home I locked myself inside the boat, stripped down to my underwear, and climbed into bed. I was unconscious a few seconds after my head hit the pillow.

Chapter 31

B
ill called and woke me a little after 7:00 p.m. He said he had some information I might find interesting, but he didn’t want to discuss it over the phone. I told him I would love to see him. I just blurted it out without thinking. Near death experiences do that to you.  

I took a quick shower and called Rainbow Pizza. I wanted comfort food. I ordered an extra large, half Hawaiian and half sausage and mushroom. At 7:45 my phone rang again. It was the pizza delivery guy and he was waiting at the gate. I jogged up to meet him and gave him an extra ten for the speedy delivery.

I was halfway down the companionway when I heard the gate open behind me. I turned sharply, ready to defend myself with the pizza box if necessary, but it was only Bill.

“Relax,” he said, draping an arm around my shoulders as we walked down to the dock.

The physical contact made me feel better. I hadn’t even realized I was worried about him acting normally with me now that I was a homicide suspect.

When we were on board I set the pizza box on the galley counter and turned to him expectantly.

“So?”

“Can we eat while we talk? I’m starved and I have a lot to tell you.”

“No,” I said, placing a hand on top of the pizza box. “Talk first.”

“Fine.”

He sank down onto the galley settee and took out the small notebook he always carries.

“Margaret Sectio’s given name was Margaret Kathleen Sullivan. Born to James and Kathleen Sullivan, both deceased. They left everything to her, including the property in Woodside. Margaret had one sibling, Patrick James Sullivan, who is her sole heir. Besides the property, she had a substantial stock portfolio and over five million in a money market account, apparently left to her by the parents. Her life insurance policy will pay her brother another million. No one has been able to locate him yet. Margaret had a safe deposit box under Sullivan. As soon as the Sheriff’s department gets to the bank on Monday morning we’ll find out what’s inside.” He closed the notebook.

“Is there a way to find out if any of the officers or detectives at the scene last night knew Maggie… you know… personally?”

“I’ll ask around. Pizza?”

“You’ve earned it.”

I gave him a quick kiss before getting out the plates.

“You want a beer?” I asked, as I set the table.

He opened the fridge and took out two bottles of Guinness. While we ate most of the pizza, and polished off the six-pack, I tried to wrap my mind around the new information Bill had given me. Why would Maggie’s parents have left everything to her and nothing to her brother? Maybe our search of the estate tomorrow would give us a clue to his whereabouts.

After dinner we curled up on the settee in the main salon and I turned on the TV. Channel 4 News was on and I was stunned to see a reproduction of my driver’s license photo staring back at me. The story had been leaked to the press. I momentarily lost the ability to breathe. I didn’t even want to
think
about what this could do to my credibility with my clients, not to mention any future business. While the viewing public was informed that I was a PI, at least the anchor didn’t mention my area of specialization.

I called my mom first and explained what was going on. She wanted to discuss my chosen profession, again, but I explained that I had a lot of other calls to make and promised we’d have lunch soon.

I spent the next forty-five minutes trying to reach my regular clients, assuring the ones I connected with that it was all a misunderstanding, that it had been self-defense, and the dead woman’s weapon had simply been misplaced. I thought that sounded plausible. The police misplace evidence all the time, right? Those I spoke with agreed it would be a good idea for me to take a few days (or a few weeks) off to let the publicity die down before resuming my regular survey schedule.

Bill sat patiently while I made my calls. Having him there with me, after all that had happened, reassured me to some extent. I can be pretty hardheaded at times, and I know I’m not easy to live with, but Bill seemed to be up to the challenge.