Relative Malice (16 page)

27

Kendall spent some time at the station writing up her report on the interview with Carlee Somerfelt and arranged for an officer to cover the girl’s room. She talked to the Chippewa cop who’d been working the rape cases and he agreed last night’s rapist sounded like it could be his guy. Tomorrow she’d make the rounds of auto repair shops.

Nash called just as she stood to leave. He’d been in Cameron all morning watching Jennemen and Iseroth.

“Anything happening?” Kendall asked.

“Nah. I’m thinking about calling it a day. What’s new on your end?”

“I talked to the Somerfelt girl. She remembered her attacker smelled like gasoline, so he could be Chippewa’s rapist.”

“Or he stopped for gas on his way to the park.”

“Cynic.”

“Comes from years of following crappy leads. Did you call Tarkowski?”

“I did. I gave him the names of our baby pervs. He just called me back; they aren’t looking at any of them right now. But he said if we get anything at all linking them to the Glausson baby, to let them know.”

Nash chortled. “Yeah, right. Hand it over after we’ve done all the work.”

“What crawled up your butt?” He’d been the one to suggest calling Tarkowski.

“I hate stake-outs. Too much time to think about my fucked-up life.”

Kendall headed back to the apartment, trying to decide what to do next. She’d check in with Brynn, see if she had anything to report.

Brooding about the anonymous call she’d gotten the day before, Kendall still suspected it had to have been from Lucille Bellamy, Jordan’s attorney. The call had stoked Kendall’s determination to find Philly Glausson, but with the rape case and the attempted murder of Somerfelt on her plate, Schoenfuss wasn’t going to be very receptive to her pursuing it. She’d tackle that problem tomorrow.

Brynn opened the door with a rather shit-eating grin on her face, the cat purring at her ankles. “I have to show you something.”

Kendall followed her into the small second bedroom. Three computers and a printer were spread out on a long library table. One of the computers was a brand new iMac, whose giant screen took up a third of the table. The other, a laptop sitting next to Kendall’s, was a Macbook Pro and connected to a laser printer. “Where did all this come from?”

Brynn answered, “Monica Zellman.”

“Your mother.” Interesting. That explained the smell of food in the apartment; mom must have cooked for her. Something had changed. Brynn never had a good word to say about the woman, but the gift couldn’t have been timelier.

Kendall fumbled for her phone when it interrupted a brief nap.

“Kendall, it’s Franklyn Teed.”

“On Sunday?” Teed, the medical examiner, never called outside of work hours.

“I know, rather unusual. My wife’s sister is here for the weekend and I needed to get out of the house.”

“I’ve been meaning to call and ask you if you have anything on the break-in in my building.”

“Right. Let’s see; the stain on the cat’s paw wasn’t blood; it was something with spices and a tomato base. My guess would be spaghetti sauce. And there were no matches in the database for any of the prints except the resident of the apartment.

“I’ve been finishing up my final report on the Glausson autopsies. We’ll release the bodies to the family early this week.”

Kendall hadn’t seen or talked to Gray since their flight to Milwaukee; this would give her an excuse to touch base with him. “I’ll let the brother know.”

“Getting to the reason I called; I had some time to kill, so I went over everything one more time before finalizing my report. I was looking at the DNA results, and I found something in the family that might interest you.”

Kendall sat up, her pulse quickening. “They did DNA on the whole family?”

“That’s standard practice in a case like this. As I was saying, I’ve examined the DNA results again. It seems Mark Glausson may not be Philly’s father.”

“And you’re just finding this out now?” That could be huge. If Mark Glausson wasn’t Philly’s father, they would have another suspect—and another place to look for the child.

“Actually, my oversight is quite understandable under the circumstances.”

Kendall didn’t want to play guessing games. “Could you be more specific?”

“Family members have similar DNA patterns, so matches among the victims would be expected. But after examining the results more closely, it’s apparent Gray Glausson is more likely the child’s father. I hadn’t examined his DNA before today, since there was no reason to. We’d need to run more sophisticated tests to be a hundred percent certain, but that would only be necessary if you needed legal confirmation. There’s no doubt in my mind—Gray Glausson is Philly Glausson’s biological father.”

Steaming by the time Nash walked into the Rat Pak later that day, Kendall resolved to contain her fury. If she blew up, she wouldn’t be able to read him, and she wanted to be able to tell if he’d known about Philly’s paternity.

They took a booth near the back of the bar and faced each other across the table over glasses of beer.

Nash gulped his drink. “That hits the spot. Nothing new from Cameron, but I think I want to go back tomorrow morning when Iseroth’s gone so I can get into his place and that other cottage. Anything new since I talked to you?”

“Brynn has two new computers. Top end, I might add.”

“Who popped for that?”

“Her mother. Brynn hasn’t spoken to the woman in almost two years. I got the feeling Brynn only caved because she wanted something from her.”

“Good for her. Didn’t think she had it in her.” When Kendall raised her eyebrows, he added, “You know what I mean . . . Be a little manipulative to get what she wants.”

She gave him a piercing stare. “Right. If you want something bad enough, you lower your standards.”

He grinned. “Are you insinuating that you lowered your standards to work with
moi
?”

She’d wipe that grin off his face. “Apparently lower than I thought. You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Holding out on you?”

Kendall figured she’d get the best read on him by putting it right out there. “Mark Glausson isn’t Philly’s father.”

His face froze.

“As it turns out, Gray Glausson is the sperm donor.”

Nash sat back, his wry humor replaced by anger. “That’s news to me. Glausson’s been holding out on both of us.”

Kendall and Nash rode in silence. She knew he was stewing about being left out of Glausson’s confidence regarding Philly’s paternity. It seemed rather sophomoric of him; he was being well paid to do the man’s bidding. When they arrived at Gray Glausson’s lake home, the door was opened by a woman Kendall didn’t recognize until she spoke.

England Durand said, “Come in.”

Wearing glasses, no makeup, her long hair tied back in a loose braid, England was hardly recognizable as the model-like apparition who had invaded Kendall’s office the week before. She invited them into the living room where a fire crackled invitingly.

Gray entered the room. “Glad to see you two. I hope you have something to tell me.”

“We were hoping you had something to tell us,” Kendall said.

“I do. We settled our union contract over the weekend. As always, there’s some disgruntlement with the details, but not enough to provoke any more incidents.”

“That’s not why we’re here.”

Glausson appeared genuinely puzzled.

England rose from her chair. “Can I get you two something to drink? Coffee? Something stronger?”

Gray touched her arm. “No, stay here. Anything they have to say you need to hear, too.”

Kendall wasn’t so sure of that, but it was his call. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re Philly Glausson’s biological father?”

Gray and England exchanged a look. He’d obviously told her before today. “Because I didn’t know for sure, Detective. I suspected I might be because of the timing of Philly’s birth, but when I asked her, Chelsea insisted it was impossible. That’s why I didn’t say anything to you. I didn’t believe it was relevant even if Chelsea lied about it. Whether Philly is my niece or my daughter, we have to find her.”

“You could at least have given
me
a head’s up,” Nash grumbled.

Gray’s eyes hardened. “As I said, it makes no difference.”

“You’re wrong. It makes a big difference,” Kendall added.

“It does if you think it makes me a suspect,” Gray argued. “Or I should say, more of a suspect. You already have someone in custody for the murders, Detective, although I’m sure you’re thinking I knew the man and paid him to do it. But go ahead and check my phone records and my finances—I never met the man or had any contact with him.”

“I’ll do that.” Kendall stood and turned to Nash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Gray rose. “I told you once, I had no reason to kill them. Why would I? If Philly is my child, she had a good home and doting parents. My brother had no idea what happened between Chels and me.”

Kendall wouldn’t back off. “Are you sure about that? Funny thing is, the first floor of their house didn’t have even one picture of Philly, or any of her things scattered about. I couldn’t figure it out before; Chelsea must have kept her away from your brother to insulate him from his feelings about raising another man’s child.” This was only speculation on Kendall’s part. The simple answer was probably that Chelsea had a preference for the convenience of digital photography.

“You’re making that outrageous supposition based on pictures? You’re wrong, Detective. Chels told me my brother adored Philly.” Gray scowled. “How many times do I have to say it? I had no reason to have them murdered. My brother, sure. You could make a case that I had a motive to kill him. But the others? Think about it. It makes no sense.”

Kendall didn’t think it did either. But she didn’t trust Gray Glausson. What else wasn’t he telling them?

28

On the drive back, neither of them spoke until Nash pulled up behind the building. “I have an idea.”

“I hope it’s a short one. I need some sleep.”

“Hey, don’t be pissed at
me
. If I’d known Gray was the kid’s father, I’d have told you.”

“I don’t know about that, but I believe you didn’t know. So what’s the bright idea?”

“We don’t know squat; you only have the word of your mystery caller that Jordan didn’t off the kid. We’re forgetting about Brynn’s other talent. I think we should have her do a reading for you.”

“That’s a bright idea? I thought you said she couldn’t tell you anything about the baby when she did your reading.”

“She couldn’t, but I have all this other shit going on. With you she could focus on the kid.”

“Are you insinuating I don’t have a life?” She caught herself. “Don’t answer that.”

“I’m just saying—it can’t hurt. I know you’re in a knot about Philly, just thought it might help. Not saying I believe in it.”

“It’s ludicrous.”

As Kendall stepped out of the car, another car pulled in—a long, black Cadillac—Morrie’s car with Brynn in the passenger seat.

Kendall watched as Brynn stepped out of the car.“I need to talk to you,” she called to Kendall.

Kendall and Nash followed Brynn up to her apartment where she proudly showed Nash her new computers.

“Quite the setup. Have you found our baby-lovers?” he asked.

Brynn winced at the term. “I’m going to work on it tonight. But Kendall, Carlee remembered something. She told me to tell you about it.” She looked at Nash. “I have to talk to Kendall alone.”

Kendall handed him her keys. “Better make us some coffee.”

When he left, Brynn began, “Carlee called and said she needed to see me. It sounded important, so I asked Morrie for a ride to the hospital.”

“That was nice of him. I’m glad you didn’t go out alone.”

“He waited for me, too. They have a policeman outside of her room. His name’s Jeff.”

Apparently, there was something vital Brynn had to tell Kendall, but she was having a hard time getting it out. She steered her to the point. “Brynn, what did Carlee tell you?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing.” Brynn looked away.

“He tried to kill her, Brynn. Nothing about that counts as embarrassing.”

Kendall waited. Was she going to have to pull it out of her?

Brynn had the cat in her lap, slowly stroking his long fur. “After he pushed Carlee down, he pulled her pants off and got on top of her. He made her take it in her hand . . . You know.” Her face reddened.

“She had to guide his penis in for him,” Kendall clarified. Carlee had evidently remembered another detail.

“Right. She said there was something on it . . . like an earring.” She wrinkled her nose. “It was pierced.”

Kendall let out her breath. Now she could find the animal without crawling through every car repair hole in town. There couldn’t be that many pierced peckers in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.

After talking to Brynn, Kendall joined Nash in her apartment. He flinched when she told him how they’d be able to track Carlee’s rapist.

“You men are so damn sensitive about your plumbing,” She mumbled.

“That’s rich. Imagine being nailed because a of dick dangle.”

“A ‘dick dangle?’ You’re kidding, right?”

“Yeah. I just made that up. Ironic, though. Guys’ dicks get them in trouble all the time, but that’s a new one, isn’t it?”

Kendall turned to get coffee.

“Seriously,” he said. “I think I can help you out here. There’s a place in La Crosse that does all kinds of piercings. They specialize in exotics.”

“And you know this, because?”

“You hear a lot of shit undercover.”

Kendall contacted the station, gave them the name of the tattoo parlor in La Crosse and had the detectives put together a list of likely places in the immediate area for acquiring such an intimate piercing.

She put down the phone. “It could have been a home job.”

“Right. Like any man would take a chance like that.”

“It’s something to consider. There’s no shortage of morons out there.” Time to change the subject.
“What do you think? Was Gray being honest with us about not knowing he’s Philly’s biological father?”

“The guy can be hard to read, but I think he’s being up-front on this one. Pissed me off that he didn’t tell me, though. If he weren’t my boss, I’d tell him where to put it. But I’m into it now. We have to find the kid.”

They’d finished their coffee when Kendall got a call from Morrie. “I almost forgot to tell you. Someone named Nat stopped in, told me to tell you she had something to tell you about your case.”

Nat. Kendall hadn’t returned the calls she’d received from her ex-roommate. Did she want to deal with Nat in front of Adam Nashlund?
What the hell.
He’d probably heard all about her eviction from Alverson. There’d been a crowd gathered around the Highlander the day she walked out of the station and found her car crammed with all her belongings.

In the downtown area just off the river, the theater was only a short drive from the Rat Pak. A few cars still dotted the parking area when Kendall and Nash arrived.

Nat waited for them on center stage; the actors she’d been surrounded by drifted toward the exits. Nat always presented as a treat for the eye, and tonight was no exception. Her dark hair, gleaming like polished teak, hung nearly to her waist, and her flawless complexion glowed under the softened stage lighting.

Nash took Nat’s hand as they were introduced. “You probably don’t remember me. I met you going through the reception line after
Strangers on a Train
. You were great.”

Eyeing him up, Nat’s lush lashes fluttered at the compliment. Kendall knew Nat was evaluating what her relationship was to Nash.

An outfit few women could pull off, Nat wore black tights under a long charcoal-gray sweater belted at the waist with a chain of silver hoops, her taut figure displayed to its best advantage. Her sweater ended just below her curved backside, her feet encased in a pair of high-heeled boots adorned with silvery fur from ankle to knee. She looked like something out of a fashion magazine, and on Nat it worked. Kendall could tell Nash was fascinated; he hadn’t taken his gaze from Nat since they walked into the theater.

“You told Morrie you had something for us,” she said.

Nat’s amber eyes moved to Nash.

“He’s working with us on this; Gray Glausson hired him.”

Nat looked Nash over once more, admiration evident in her eyes. Kendall had known Nat to have an occasional fling with a member of the opposite sex.

“You’re a PI?”Nat asked.

“For the moment.”

“So what do you have for us?” Kendall looked around the empty theater. “Are we alone?”

“Yes, the others left for the night.”

Nat took a seat in one of a group of director’s chairs, done in brilliant, primary colors, her pose seductive, and her elegant dancer’s legs crossed. Whether she’d posed for Kendall’s or Nash’s benefit, Kendall couldn’t be sure.

Nat began, “A few years ago, I found myself in this situation. I was pregnant. My lifestyle, as you know, isn’t suited to raising a child, so I took some time to explore my options. I was working on the acquisition of the theater at the time, and the attorney helping me set it up was a friend of mine. She knew I was pouring my entire savings into the endeavor and told me she knew someone who could find the child an excellent home if I was considering having the baby and giving it up for adoption. It would put enough money in my pocket to put me back in financial solvency. I took her advice.”

Is this for real?
“You never told me any of this,” Kendall said.

“It never came up. It happened years before you moved in.”

“Why didn’t you come forward with it before now?”

“Back then selling my baby only ranked higher on my morality scale than killing it by having an abortion. It wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“Did your attorney give you the name of the person who paid for your child?”

She sighed. “That’s one reason I didn’t call you. The name had escaped my memory. But I was cleaning out some old files today and found her note stuck between some papers.” She handed Kendall a folded sheet of yellow memo paper.

Kendall opened the paper and read the name printed across it. Written in a bold feminine hand was the name—the shifty lawyer, now her father’s latest squeeze—Margaret Cottingham.

When Nash dropped her off at the apartment, a light still glowed from Morrie’s office. Kendall stepped in. “You’re working late.”

He looked up from his computer screen. “You here about the apartment?”

“I thought I’d ask you if there was anyone else that wanted the place.”

“Anyone else?”

When Kendall didn’t answer, he said, “You’re making this difficult for me, Kenny. Tell you what. If you want to give me a month’s rent, I’ll let you stay on a month-to-month basis. Since you’re a cop, I won’t even ask for security. And I’ll put in that new carpeting in for you. Pick out one of those samples I left.”

“Whatever.” She was taking the apartment; she’d worry about what it looked like later. Kendall wrote him a check before she could talk herself out of it or think about why putting down roots made her so uneasy.

Upstairs, she glanced at the stack of mail Nat had handed her when they left the theater. Yet another thing she had to do, file her change of address with the post office. Standing over the wastebasket, she dropped the junk mail in without opening it. Her heart stopped at the last piece of mail—the annual photo. She ripped it open and took out a picture of a young woman posed next to a fence surrounded by a beautiful autumn scene.
Beth.
She’d be eighteen soon. Would she want to meet her biological mother?

Maybe not. She looked happy. Happy, intelligent, and wearing a smile of anticipation for a life yet to be lived. Kendall wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to look backward. She added the photo to a stack she kept hidden in an old stationary box, trying to put it out of her mind like she did every year at this time.

Lying in bed later, details of the two investigations crowded her thoughts; it was becoming increasingly difficult to juggle them.

Finally, she drifted off amid thoughts of computers, abandoned babies, and Adam Nashlund.