The Blue Journal (18 page)

“He's given me some good advice over the years. Issues come up all the time in my profession.” When Walker continued smiling, she added, “He's married.”

“Uh huh. So how about you, you ever been married?”

“I'm sure you've looked into one of those intrusive police files you have on me by now. You know the answer already, don't you?”

Walker hung his head slightly.

“It's all right. I suppose I should be flattered by the attention.”

The waiter came, displayed a bottle of Nickel & Nickel chardonnay, then opened it and poured a little into Walker's glass.

“My lady friend should taste it. Probably knows more about these things than I do.”

The waiter poured for her. Randi took a sip and told the waiter it was delicious.

“So, what about you?” she asked after the waiter filled their glasses, placed the bottle in a bucket of ice, and went on his way. “You ever been married?”

“Was. Didn't take. My wife wanted something I just couldn't give her.”

Randi lifted her glass, waiting. He liked the way she held it by the stem. “Like what, for instance?”

“Money,” he said. “Honest cops never see much of it.” He picked up his glass. “Cheers.”

“Any children?”

“Yes, two wonderful girls.”

“Visit with them much?”

“I try. They live with their mother. And her new husband,” he added, then started to say something else but stopped himself. “They're teenagers now, so they basically view me as a dinosaur. But they're great.” He tasted the wine and gave an approving nod. Then he said, “In the interests of full disclosure I should tell you that I also heard from Robert Stratford today. Left me a voice mail, but you probably knew that.”

“I didn't, actually.” Her surprise seemed genuine. “Now it's your turn to tell me what he said.”

“Nothing much,” Walker replied. “Said I shouldn't be fooled by your sweet, all-American looks. Said you're tough as nails under that soft exterior.”

“Come on.”

“He said he was worried about protecting your professional ethics.”

“So am I.”

“I'll call him back Monday,” he told her with a shrug. “No offense, but I hate talking to lawyers, even the mayor of the town. I'll just have to remind him I can get a court order and subpoena you.”

“So you've said.” Randi frowned. “And Bob's well aware of it.”

“Funny, you know? He's worried about trampling on your patients' rights. I'm concerned about just the opposite.”

“How's that?”

“I'm worried one of your patients might start trampling all over you.”

She stared at him. “Gee, Anthony, you certainly know how to sweet talk a woman.”

“I'm not kidding.”

She continued looking at him without speaking.

“I've got a murderer to find, and I'd like to keep the number of victims at one. You want to help me?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“All right. I brought some things you might find interesting.” Walker pulled a few snapshots from a brown envelope. “Have a look at these.”

They were the photographs of Elizabeth Knoebel, lying dead in the bedroom, that eerie bedroom decorated with dark wood and Victorian furniture.

“You showed me these before. Having another go at shock value?”

Walker shook his head. “It always amazes me. Doesn't matter how smart a person is, we're all victims of our training, right? You're a psychologist, so you look at everything from that point of view. What people say, their body language. You ask yourself, ‘What did she mean by that?' Or, ‘Why would he say such a thing?' You listen to the words and the tone of voice and you try to judge a person's emotional state. My job isn't that much different from yours, but I have another perspective. I'm trying to solve another sort of riddle, so I spend more time on the physical evidence than you would.”

“I can see that,” Randi conceded impatiently. “Are you going to give me another hint or are you about to tell me what I'm not seeing?”

“You're not necessarily missing anything. It's just an odd scene, don't you think? I mean, leaving aside that she was murdered.”

“Kind of tough for me to do.”

“I understand. But just think, for an afternoon in the suburbs, it looks more like a bordello than a married woman's bedroom. Especially since she knew her husband was not coming home that night.”

“I'm not going anywhere near that one.”

“Okay. But consider that there's no sign of forced entry into the house and no sign of a struggle. And remember, she was naked. The killer could have undressed her after she was dead, but there would have been blood on her clothes, or marks on the bed that would show she was moved. We found nothing consistent with that sort of activity. Our people think she was lying there, just as she died. So tell me, what have we got here?”

Randi Conway shook her head as she slowly pushed the photos together. “I don't know,” she said.

“Whoever did this was someone she knew well. Someone who could get that close and pull the trigger.”

Randi did not respond.

“Maybe a lover? Maybe someone else? Maybe she never even saw the gun before the killer raised it to her head and shot her.”

Walker watched her face as she handed the pictures back to him. He took them, shoved them in his jacket pocket, and picked up his menu. “I guess I shouldn't have hit you with all that first thing, huh?” He shook his head. “Sorry.”

She looked again into his gray-brown eyes. “It's all right.”

They spent a silent minute studying their menus. Their waiter came by to describe the specials and, when he was done, Walker told him they'd need a few minutes. Then he returned to the large brown envelope that sat on the table. “This is interesting too. Not gruesome like the photos, but something I think I should share with you.”

She watched as he unfastened the clip.

“I understand you wrote a book a couple of years back.”

“So, you really
have
been doing your homework on me.”

“Called it
The Cheating Heart
. Interesting title.”

“It was therapeutic for me to write it, never thought anyone would publish it.”

“About unfaithful spouses.”

“Unfaithful fiancé, in my case.”

“Which explains why you're still single.”

She had another taste of the wine but said nothing.

He removed the papers from the brown envelope and, without looking up at her, he asked, “Did you know Elizabeth was writing a book?”

“A book? What sort of book?”

“Not sure how to describe it. You might say it has a similar theme to yours, although it comes at the issue from a completely different angle.” He held out the pages, showing her the top sheet that bore the title,
SEXUAL RITES
. “We found it in her computer. Split up in sections.”

Walker was watching her, but Randi's eyes revealed no sign of recognition.

“It seems Elizabeth Knoebel turned sex into a kind of hobby. Some of the characters may have been from the couples in your groups. If we believe what she says here, she went after some of the husbands you work with.”

She seemed more curious than surprised. “Went after them?” she asked.

Walker nodded. “According to her journal, or whatever this is. Cute little act.” He shuffled through some of the pages. “She doesn't use last names in here, but it wasn't tough to put it together.”

“How did you get her files? You said they were in her computer. Her husband let you have all this?”

Walker nodded.

“This may sound like an idiotic question, but did Doctor Knoebel understand what he was giving you?”

“The question is not idiotic. We really don't know yet.”

“You think he gave this to you in the hope of identifying her murderer.”

“That's what we assume.”

“What if it's all fiction?” Randi asked. “Isn't that possible? Maybe she made things up based on what she heard in group.”

“It could be fantasy. We've considered that.”

“I mean, how would she get to meet these men?”

“We're not sure. She might have used information their wives spilled in your group to meet them and seduce them.”

She groaned, as if she had just had the wind knocked out of her.

“We're probably going to have to speak with each of them.”

“You're not serious.”

Walker nodded. “The women too.”

As their eyes returned to the pages on the table, the buzzer on Randi's cell phone went off.

“Sorry, occupational hazard,” she said as she pulled it out of her purse. “Always on duty.”

“Me too,” he replied with an understanding smile.

She put the phone to her ear and said, “Yes,” then the muscles in her face tensed as she listened. “All right,” she said, “hold on please.” She placed her hand across the phone and looked at Walker. “You need to excuse me for one minute. I'm not getting much of a signal in here.” She held up the phone to show him, as if that proved it. “I'll be right back.”

She stood and so did Walker.

“You okay?”

“Fine, I'm fine,” she said. “I'll be right back.”

As she headed toward the front of the restaurant, he took a moment to admire her attractive shape. He would have much preferred if their dinner conversation did not have to revolve around murder, not to mention the consequences his investigation might have on her professional life. He realized he didn't like having to upset her, which was not his usual sentiment when examining a potential witness in the course of a homicide investigation.

When she turned the corner out of his view, Walker placed his napkin on the table and walked across the room to the bar. He was holding Elizabeth Knoebel's manuscript in his hand as he asked for a bourbon—something told him Randi was going to be a bit longer than the minute she had promised. Then he went to the window overlooking the parking lot and watched her.

CHAPTER 21

Randi stood just outside the front door, holding the phone to her ear. When she received the call inside, the display screen had declared “CALLER ID UNAVAILABLE.”

When she answered, she found the voice was being electronically distorted. All the same, the words were clear. The caller demanded that she leave the restaurant to have an urgent discussion.

Now Randi stepped farther outside, past the edge of the terrace, where the air was turning cold and a light drizzle was beginning to fall.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Elizabeth trusted you,” the voice said angrily.

“Tell me who this is or I'm hanging up right now.”

“Elizabeth trusted you,” the voice repeated.

“I'm hanging up and calling the police,” Randi said.

“You're already with the police,” the voice reminded her.

Randi's sense of outrage was suddenly replaced by fear. “How do you know where I am?”

“You have no right to betray her.”

“Who is this?”

There was a pause, then the voice answered with a question. “Did you get my notes?”

Randi felt her stomach go cold and tense. “What notes?”

“Don't play games, Doctor Conway.”

“I'm not the one playing games here.”

There was silence on the other end.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to remember your obligation to Elizabeth,” the voice told her. “And to the rest of us.”

Randi was standing under the outside lights in the front of the building, and Walker could see the look on her face. He gulped some of his drink and placed the glass on the bar. Then he walked to the front of the restaurant, grabbed Randi's coat and his jacket, and opened the door. She was standing with her back to him, facing the drizzly night. He waited, watching her for another moment, then began walking slowly toward the edge of the portico.

“Hey,” he said, holding up her coat, “it's raining out here you know.”

The caller had just ended their connection and Randi lowered her hand to her side.

Walker reached her and placed the coat over her shoulders. “Anyone we know?”

Randi pulled her arms into the sleeves. “It was nothing.”

“You don't look so great for someone who just got a call about nothing.”

“I'm all right, really.”

“You look a little soggy to me.” He looked up at the sky, then held his hand out, palm up, beyond the overhang at the entrance. “Smart woman like you should know to come in from the rain.”

She nodded absently. “It was a patient, needed to talk with me for a minute, that's all. I walked out here to get a better signal.”

“That so?”

“Just a little problem, couple of questions, no big deal.”

“No big deal, huh?” Walker took a step forward and looked up again, letting the soft rain hit him in the face. “You know, I have this theory that bad liars are bad because they don't lie enough to get much practice.”

Randi responded with a weak smile. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Walker ignored the question, took her by the hand, and led her toward the door. “If you can't say who called, can you at least tell me what was so urgent?”

“Please don't ask me. Don't ask me anything right now.”

“It's my job to ask.”

“Do you have to be a detective all the time?”

He studied her lovely face, her complexion pale now, her soft skin moist from the rain. “No,” he said.

She reached out and touched his arm. “None of this is easy for me. You understand that, right?”

“Yes,” he said, “I think I do. You have a pretty good game face though. Most of the time.”

She managed a better smile this time.