The Christine Murders (3 page)

Chris shook her head and shrugged. “Well no, I don’t think anything is wrong. I just don’t know who he is, that’s all. And an urgent message is strange. I guess I’m just curious.”

Susan nodded agreement. “Yes, well, maybe he’s got something to do with the airline, although he didn’t say so and I never heard his name before.”

“More than likely he wants to sell me something.” Christine walked back toward the door. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll call him when I get back home and find out what he wants. Thank you, Susan, I appreciate the information.”

Susan switched off her computer and locked her desk. “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful, Chris. By the way, where are you going tonight, Honolulu or all the way to Manila?”

“Honolulu, where it will be nice and warm. Beach weather!”

“Ah, what a life! You’ve got it made, Girl.”

“I totally agree, although believe me, there are days when I have to remind myself. But they don’t come too often. Good night, Susan, see you when I get back.”

She folded the message and slipped it into her purse. Mr. Wilkerson. Somehow, that name still seemed faintly familiar, tickling her mind in some way, but right now she was not going to worry about it anymore.

Whoever he was and whatever he wanted, he would have to wait until she returned from her trip. There was no point in trying him now; briefing would be starting in a few more minutes. Christine was sure Mr. Wilkerson didn’t have anything too urgent or important to tell her in any case.

She stood in front of a mirror in the lounge as she greeted fellow crew members, making a last minute check before briefing. Her blue and gold uniform and white blouse were crisp and neat, her little hat positioned perfectly atop her head, her gold wings affixed to her jacket, and shoes polished to a shine. She was ready again to fly!

CHAPTER FOUR

OCTOBER 4
th
– 11:15 P.M.

Kelley Grant finished work at the Westin St. Francis Hotel on Union Square and left for her nightly walk home along Geary Street. As usual, she was hungry but not looking forward to cooking when she got home. The last thing she could hope for would be that Gary would have anything prepared for her. No, he’d be sitting glued to the TV set. She would be lucky if she got a grunt of hello when she came in.

He had been so different when she’d met him. Just out of college, good-looking and personable, he’d been full of great ideas about his future life. Soon, it became their lives together, and she had married him three years ago. Within a year, he had promised, they would be out of their cramped studio apartment in the shabby building near Van Ness; they would be living in their own home in the suburbs. She would be able to give up her job as receptionist at the St. Francis, and they would start a family.

But three years later, they were exactly where they had started out. With one exception. Gary didn’t work anymore. Each job he had taken had presented a personality conflict for him, which meant, Kelley soon realized, that he couldn’t get along with anyone else he had to work with. So he would leave and go to another job, then another, and finally another. His erratic work history and his volunteered explanations that he had problems with people soon guaranteed no further job offers, so eventually he’d simply stopped looking. Now he claimed to be trying to find himself, his method involving spending day after day and night after night watching one rental film after another. Kelley marveled that there could be so many movies available in the shops he frequented when he did go out to replenish his stock. Sometimes she wondered if he just watched the same ones over and over again. She didn’t know, nor did she care anymore. She paid for the rentals, as she paid for everything else.

Kelley knew there was something seriously wrong with her husband. She knew he needed help. But sadly, she no longer cared. She enjoyed her job at the St. Francis and the elegant world it allowed her to touch, if only superficially. Egged on by her friends at the hotel, she had started to accept the fact that she was young and bright and still incredibly pretty. She had noticed the stares and laughed off some of the suggestions from the classy businessmen she’d checked into the hotel, realizing finally that her looks were still an asset. Tall, blonde, and slender, undoubtedly there were plenty of men who were quite willing to touch her sleek body, as Gary no longer cared to do.

She had almost made up her mind to leave him. If she could support the two of them on her salary, she could certainly far better support herself alone. And she had made good friends at the hotel who had offered her a place to stay until she could find an apartment of her own. Single again, she would be able to accept offers of dinner or drinks from some of the men she met at work. Who knew what could develop for her? She didn’t know what Gary would do. Maybe he could find some other sucker to pay for his endless stream of movies while he continued to search for himself.

She passed by an all-night deli in the theatre district, a place she often visited on her way home for a sandwich or salad. Tonight, looking at the roasting turkeys and prime ribs turning on the spits in the window, she decided to buy some sliced meat and a sandwich to take home with her.

The deli was crowded; most of the shows were just getting out now, and Kelley took a number and waited her turn in line. She purchased more food than she had planned to, and found that her package was larger and more unwieldy than it usually was. With the sizable purse she always carried as well, she could see she wasn’t going to have an easy time during the rest of her walk home.

As she reached the door, a tall and attractive man came from behind her. Smiling, he pulled the door open with a flourish. “After you, my dear. You look as if you could use a little help.”

Kelley was immediately aware of the delightful scent he wore and how well he was dressed. And he had the most gorgeous blue eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “I think I over-bought. I should not come in here when I’m this hungry.”

He laughed. “Yes, I agree.” Kelley saw him looking at her uniform jacket. “Just getting off work are you? Here, let me help you carry that package to your car.” He was slightly taller than Kelley, and spoke with a delightful British accent.

“Yes, I am – oh, thank you,” she stammered. “But, I don’t have a car, you see I live only a few blocks from here, near Van Ness, if you know where that is. I walk home from work.”

He appeared concerned. “Yes, indeed, I do know where Van Ness is. Well, in that case, would you allow me to give you a ride home? It is quite late, and quite dark farther along here. I’m afraid you’re going to have trouble balancing all this, and I would hate to think of anything happening to you.” He smiled again, such a beautiful smile. Then he pointed to a gorgeous BMW parked next to the curb just a few feet away. “Please, I’m parked right here. I would feel better. I don’t like to think of you walking all alone at this hour.”

Kelley was very aware of the scent of his cologne again. What was it? Something expensive, no doubt. He reminded her of the men she met at the hotel. She had never accepted a ride from any stranger before, but she was so tired tonight. And she was carrying a very heavy package. And, just maybe, this guy was somebody worth knowing. If she were indeed planning to go it alone soon, she would need to meet men. Men with class and the money that went with it. She didn’t intend to stay alone forever.

She made up her mind quickly. “All right. I’d love a ride home tonight. And it isn’t very far. Just go straight up Geary and cross Van Ness.”

He had opened the car door and was helping Kelley into the front seat. Then he arranged her package on the floor near her feet. “Just show me along the way, Christine,” he said. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. What a coincidence!”

He closed the door and came around to the driver’s side, got in, and started the car, while Kelley regarded him strangely. This was just great. Already she was off to a bad start; this guy thought she was someone else.

She spoke up, although uncertainly. “My name isn’t Christine. It’s Kelley. Kelley Grant. Were you here waiting for someone else?”

He looked over at her, a confused expression on his face now. Who was this woman? “Yes, my dear, I’ve been waiting for someone, for years.” He looked at her more closely. Oh, dear! No, indeed, he had made a mistake, she was not his Christine. So the question was, what was he to do with her now?

Kelley, frightened by the odd look in his eyes, made a movement to open the door, but he was too fast for her. The voices were telling him what to do. “Please don’t try that again. It’s locked, dear. I’m sorry, but you can’t get away now.” Luther started the car and pulled quickly away from the curb and into the night.

CHAPTER FIVE

FRIDAY - OCTOBER 7
th

Christine read the headline on the morning’s paper: “NO LEADS IN MURDER OF HOTEL CLERK”. Beneath the heading was a picture of the murder victim, Kelley Grant, a pretty young woman with blonde hair.

Christine frowned and skimmed through the story. She had heard about this on the news last night, after she had returned home. It had happened on the night of her last flight. She loved city living but hated reading things like this.

She put the paper aside, saying a silent prayer for this poor girl and wondering about the family she left behind.

***

Lieutenant John Patrick Kinsella swallowed a handful of tablets from one of several partially filled bottles gracing his desk and wondered if anyone had ever died of indigestion. Indigestion coupled with extreme frustration more likely. Of the two, he was growing more convinced that it would eventually be frustration that would get him first.

He thought about Kelley Grant again. The last thing John Kinsella wanted or needed now was another murder dumped in his lap. Overworked and short-staffed as it was, he had balked when the Chief had assigned him the investigation of the Grant killing, even though he knew it would do him absolutely no good to complain. So he had done as he was told, pulling together a small team of six already overburdened officers who would attempt to find an answer for another senseless killing in the city. So far, after two and one-half days of tracing the dead woman’s final hours, John was exactly where he had started. Not one single lead had presented itself.

Kelley Grant’s battered body had been found early Wednesday morning in a filthy alley behind a warehouse off Valencia Street. She had been discovered, stuffed behind a trash dumpster, by a sanitation crew making its morning rounds, strangled with a dark blue silk scarf. Her wallet and purse were intact, and her few pieces of jewelry untouched. Her friends at the Westin St. Francis admitted that Kelley was a flirt and desperately lonely. All those to whom Kinsella had spoken, however, swore that Kelley would never pick anybody up; she was very unhappily married, yes, but still married and she respected that. She would never take a ride or go off with any stranger.

Which left the possibility of a stranger abduction, but where? Kelley had left work at the St. Francis on Powell and Geary slightly after eleven p.m. on Tuesday night and had walked home, as she had done every night during the time she had worked at the hotel. Nobody saw her leave with anyone.

She had been seen alive only one other place after that – at a deli on Geary down the street from the St. Francis. Workers there recognized Kelley as a fairly regular late-night customer. She was always alone, they had said. On Tuesday night, she had come in alone and purchased several take-out items. The cashier thought she might have seen Kelley talking to a man on her way out, maybe somebody just holding the door for her. But she could not be sure. The deli had been very crowded; theatres had just gotten out, and the place had been packed. Nobody had seen anything else.

Kelley Grant had walked out of that deli and vanished into thin air. If there had been an abduction, which seemed more and more likely, it would have been along Geary somewhere as she made her way home.

The girl had a husband, a down and out loser if there ever was one, as her friends had said. Whatever his problems were (and Kinsella could easily see they were many after interviewing him Wednesday morning), the guy hadn’t even noticed that his wife had not returned home Tuesday night. He reacted in dazed shock when police arrived at the door of the grimy apartment where he and Kelley lived.

He had, of course, been the prime suspect at first, especially after Kelley’s friends at the hotel had told about severe trouble in the Grant marriage and Kelley’s unhappiness and plans to leave her husband. But several hours of questioning convinced John Kinsella that Gary Grant was innocent. He claimed to have been watching movies most of the night, until he fell asleep, only waking up when the police roused him the next morning after Kelley’s body had been found.

Kinsella believed him. There were no signs of struggle, in the nearly barren apartment, and no signs on Grant himself that he had struck or beaten anyone. And even if somebody suspected him of killing his wife there, how would he have gotten her body out of the place and all the way over to the Mission District? The Grants had no car. Their apartment was also in full view and hearing of several neighbors, some of whom told Kinsella that they were hanging around outside the building talking until well after midnight. They all knew Kelley, liked her, and frequently saw her come home after her shift at work; bad as the place looked, everybody living there seemed to have the attitude that he or she was responsible for the other tenants and they watched out for anything unusual going on.