Hex on the Ex (9 page)

I stood and began to pace in front of Nick. “Nothing fits. What would Jarret gain by killing Laycee? Their connection was casual as far as I know.”

“As far as you know. But he left her asleep in his house, alone. Odd.”

“She wasn’t exactly a stranger, Nick. Jarret is addicted to his ritual morning run. If she was asleep, he probably left her alone to be considerate.”

“He might have killed her before he left.”

“In her sleep? Why?” I shook my head. “Jarret has his flaws, but he’s not brutal or heartless. He wouldn’t murder Laycee then go out for his morning run. He’d never leave a mark like that on her body.”

“Then what type of killer leaves a message?”

“Manipulative. Someone craving attention and demanding to be engaged or caught. A clue challenging the police to find him or her. Or, in a twisted way, the message could have been meant for the victim.”

“Laycee. An interesting thought,” Nick said.

“It’s more logical that the killer came after Jarret, found Laycee, and killed her instead.”

“Then why not wait for Jarret to come home and kill him, too?”

“Right. Doesn’t make sense. This symbol is the key.” I handed the sketch back to him. “You think you’ve seen it before?”

“I do. I don’t remember where yet.” Nick folded the paper and slipped it back into his pocket. “I promised Eagleton I’d do some research and get back to him. You’ll never believe who the homicide detective in charge of the murder investigation is.”

“Not Dave.” I cocked my head. “He can’t be, because of his connection to Jarret. Who then?”

“Remember Carla Pratt?”

“The detective who jailed Robin?” I dropped my head back and sighed. “You have to be kidding. Carla works the Northeast Division, not the Valley. Did she transfer?”

“Pratt seemed less than thrilled to see me, so I didn’t inquire about her career path. When Eagleton took me into
the bedroom, she rolled her eyes and left without comment.”

I sat at the edge of the sofa and tapped my heel on the rug. Wait until Carla learns I stopped by Jarret’s house, too. Last year, Nick and I had worked to clear Robin of a murder charge, but Carla—ambitious, stubborn, and convinced of Robin’s guilt—warned Nick and I to stay away from the case. “Carla probably took Jarret into custody already.”

“Not unless she has probable cause to hold him,” Nick said. “Why are you fidgeting? Are you keeping something from me?”

“Jarret phoned his agent before the police. In fact, he waited at least twenty minutes for Ira to arrive at the house before he dialed 911.”

“Ouch. Why?”

“Jarret’s not the greatest in emergencies?”

“And you’re positive he didn’t—”

“Kill Laycee? He’s not violent, Nick. Yesterday when we talked, Jarret wasn’t even aware that Laycee was in town. She went to the game with Kyle last night. I can’t imagine how or why she ended up alone at Jarret’s.” I stopped myself. Sure I knew. Laycee liked a good time and Jarret needed a distraction from his colossal loss at the game.

“Maybe the three of them went to Jarret’s and partied after the game,” Nick said.

“Possible. Kyle didn’t come to the gym this morning so maybe he
was
at the house late, but—”

“But what?”

“I only saw two glasses on the counter.”

Nick drew back. “What do you mean,
you saw
?”

“I went to Jarret’s this morning to—”

“This morning? What time?”

“While Jarret was out on his run. I stopped by to pick up that box.” I pointed to the carton in the living room. “I didn’t go beyond the kitchen. I saw the glasses by the sink.”

“My God.” Nick buried his forehead in his hands. “You may have been in the house with the killer. What if he saw you?”

The realization bolted through my body like lightning. I wrapped my arms around my waist and rocked. “I didn’t see anyone. I was in and out of that house in less than five minutes.”

“It’s okay, Liz. I’m sure you’re—”

“I had no idea Laycee was there.”

“Take a breath.” Nick pulled me in close, his chin resting on top of my head. “I’m getting the sense I should follow you around more.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Not what I had in mind at all.” He kissed the top of my head.

I leaned back and looked up at his face. “Bodyguard?”

“Something like that but with benefits—”

“Benefits? As in
ever after
benefits?”

“No…I mean…well…” Nick let me go and held out his wrist, making a grand show of checking the time. “I should get going. I want to stop at the UCLA library again and try to track down the symbol. Let’s get together tonight and talk.”

“About murder or…?”

“I’ll let you know if I find anything at the library.” Nick
wasn’t the type to squirm but when he did, he was kind of adorable at it. First, he reached to Erzulie purring at his side and scratched her between the ears before he stood to leave. On the way through the living room he mumbled something about library hours. At the door, carefully avoiding eye contact, he kissed me good-bye then hustled out. Fast.

I wasn’t ready for ever after either.

The last box of books waited by the fireplace, ready to be unpacked. Great, something to do while I waited for Dave to return my call. I headed for the den and as I reached to turn up the TV volume, the phone rang again. Hopefully Dave. Probably Mom. Or Marion Cooper. I took my cell off the coffee table, glancing at the small screen. Area code 818—the Valley, and not a number I knew. I answered, hesitant.

“Liz Cooper?” The female voice on the phone sounded vaguely familiar. “This is Carla Pratt, LAPD. Do you remember me?”

I wandered to the window, nerves tightening my throat. “Of course I remember you, Carla. How are you?”

“Your name came up in a homicide investigation I’m working on. I’m hoping you can help me with some information. Can we meet this evening?”

“What kind of information?”
As if I didn’t know.

“A few background points. Where can we meet?”

Instinct warned me to pick neutral territory. I didn’t want Carla nosing around my house for any reason. “There’s a café called Aroma on Tujunga Avenue south of Moorpark. I can meet you there at seven.”

She agreed and we hung up. As soon as I clicked off the call, I dialed Dave again.

When he answered I said, “Don’t you return your calls? Do you know what’s going on?”

“I return my calls in order of priority and, by the way, calls for the job come first. You’re third on my social list after Robin and the folks.”

“Good to hear I slipped in rank to number three. Doesn’t blood mean anything in this family?”

“Between my job and your friends, blood seems to be the family business. I assume you’re calling about the vic at Jarret’s house? Don’t you know anyone not connected to murder?”

“Funny. I’m amused. Did you talk to Nick today?”

“No, why?”

“Captain Eagleton called Nick in to examine a symbol the killer left on the body. He was at the scene this morning.” I perched at the edge of my desk, eyeing the muted TV for news updates.

“Why Nick? Are they thinking ritual killing?” Dave said. “Voodoo? A religious sacrifice?”

“Nick mentioned witchcraft or devil worship. He’s trying to track down more information this afternoon. I called
you
for details about the rest of the investigation. Jarret’s parents called me, worried.”

“Nick can tell you more than I can, if he was at the scene. I’m working my own cases down here.”

“Will you just tell me what might be happening at Jarret’s house? He doesn’t answer his phone. His parents are in distress. They think he’s locked up. I promised to call them back with information.”

“I only know what I heard on the news, Liz. Jarret would be interrogated on the scene and, depending on what the
detectives have, what Jarret told them, and—if he lawyered up—they either let him go or arrested him. The only thing I can do for you is phone the West Valley homicide desk to find out who took the call. Maybe I know the detective.”

“Carla Pratt.”

“And you continue to know more than I do. Do you just miss me? Is that why you called? I heard Pratt transferred from Northeast. She’s good. I can’t bug her. She’ll be too busy securing evidence and talking to witnesses. Keep calling Jarret until he answers. You’re good at that.”

“Thank you. Dave, about talking to witnesses—Carla called me.”

“She did? That was fast. An ex-wife from years ago would be far down on my list of people to talk to. Maybe Pratt already has a case and she’s establishing the character angle. Hope Jarret has a good defense attor—”

“I’m not a character witness. I was at Jarret’s house this morning. I need to fill you in on a few details.”

He listened with his version of silence—grunts peppered with sighs and curses.

“Should I bring a lawyer to the meeting tonight?” I said.

“Damn it, Liz. Whose kid are you? A lawyer will tell you to keep your mouth shut. If you want to help the investigation, tell Pratt the truth. You’re a witness, not a suspect. Just remember, whether or not she chooses to tell you, she’ll tape your conversation. Remember what Dad used to say when we asked him what a homicide detective’s job was?”

“To catch people in lies.”

“Exactly. The first interview establishes your story. If
Carla finds no reason to doubt you, there won’t be another. Do your interview and let it go. Let Jarret tell his parents what happened.” Before Dave ended the call he said, “Try to stay out of it as much as possible.”

I would. Right after I talked to Jarret.

I
tried Jarret’s cell again. No answer. His voice mail prevented me from leaving word so I left Ira Ryback a message for him or Jarret to call Marion and Bud to let them know what was happening. Then I phoned Marion and apologized for having nothing to report. Marion did. She updated me on Bud’s latest bowling score, the upcoming county fair, and the birthday present Jarret bought her this year. Perceiving helpless anxiety behind her chatter, I listened until she ran out of topics. Marion and I were close before the divorce. I missed her, too.

The pounding, drilling, and banging upstairs ended at four-fifteen. Stan and Angel filed down the steps with their gear.

“Tomorrow at nine again?” Stan said as we walked out to the porch.

I nodded. “Are you any closer to finishing?”

“I think so. Any day now, you’ll be soaking in a lavender-scented bubble bath.”

“I’ll be satisfied with a shower in my own home,” I said.

“Soon.”

Right. I stood outside in the blazing late afternoon heat and watched Stan back his truck out of my driveway. Though I had spent the day on the phone in my air-conditioned home, I felt sticky, grimy, and tired of T-shirts and jeans. I had an urge to dress up.

A shower and a sundress. There was an idea. Freshen up for my meeting with Carla and an evening with Nick. If I went to the gym for a quick shower, I might run into Kyle. Not a bad idea at all. I went inside, dashed upstairs, and came down carrying my backpack with a black-and-red-flowered sundress, lacy lingerie, and a pair of sandals inside. Erzulie gave me her abandoned kitty look.

“I’ll be gone for less than an hour,” I said. “You won’t miss dinner. In fact, if you take a quick nap, you won’t even know I’m gone. Or watch the birds in the backyard. You love watching the birds.”

Yes, I reasoned with a kitten. Yes, she listened. Erzulie could be very understanding.

W
hen I got to the gym, I eyed the scattering of people in the cardio room and working out on machines, looking for but not seeing Kyle though his Jeep was parked outside. I found Earl alone with a client in the weight room.

“Is Kyle here?”

“Somewhere,” Earl said. “Did you look in the office?”

“I will, thanks.”

I backtracked through the weight room past a TV with a cable sports station broadcasting the replay of Eagleton’s press conference, and Jarret’s picture posted in the lower corner of the screen. I passed the door to the ladies’ locker room and rounded a corner to the west end of the gym along the wall of power racks and heavy weights facing the windows to the lot.

Muffled voices came from behind the closed door to Kyle’s office at the far end of the building. I knocked lightly, turned the knob, and peeked inside the small room. Kyle sat behind the desk against the wall, talking to a twentyish, short and stocky kid with stringy hair and an acne-riddled face.

Kyle spun around, startled, and quickly dropped a brown bag into the bottom drawer. He shut the drawer with his knee, locked it, and dropped the key into the top drawer. The kid hid something behind his back and backed into a corner of the office, staring at the floor.

“Liz, you’re a morning person. What are you doing here so late?” Kyle folded his hands on the blotter, clenching his fingers.

“My bathroom is still a war zone. I wanted to cool off with a shower before I go out tonight,” I said, watching his knuckles turn white. “I apologize for interrupting your meeting. I heard about Laycee and wanted to see how you’re doing. Will you be here for a while?”