The First Cut (37 page)

Vining didn’t have a fascination with the Mafia like many people did. She had never seen
The Sopranos
and thought
The Godfather
movies repulsively glorified what she considered to be a bunch of thugs.

“After Louie left Witness Protection, he came to Arizona because of the weather and because it was relatively mob-free. The mob never got a foothold here and considered Arizona open territory—not belonging to any of the families. Lots of associates and exiles moved here and made new lives, but they were still dangerous people. Louie bought a house in a nice development in the Catalina foothills and lived there with his wife, daughter, and her husband.”

“Wasn’t the wife’s nephew one of his hits?”

“Yeah, and she still stuck with Louie. She opened a beauty supply store and Louie started a company that installed swimming pools. From all appearances, they were businesspeople. Citizens. I’m the assistant manager of the Arizona Inn and Louie drank in our bar a couple times a week, holding court at a corner table. He loved it when people came by to shake his hand or ask for an autograph.”

Vining shook her head.

“It was because of Louie that I met Johnna,” Alwin said. “This all happened about five years ago. She was working vice undercover with another TPD detective, posing as students at the UA. They were living in the dorms and attending classes like real students. Plan was to entice Louie into a deal to distribute Ecstasy at the university.”

Vining remembered that Louie was now back in prison, charged with operating an Ecstasy drug ring.

“The police and feds had the Arizona Inn under surveillance and we had no idea. Johnna spent a lot of time at the hotel bar, hanging with Louie. He liked her. Johnna had a wonderful personality. I told Louie that I thought she was great. He kept pressing me to ask her out, so I did. I thought she really was a UA student. Was that a shock when I found out her real job.

“Louie was close to Crispin Oakley, one of the founders of a white supremacist gang here called the Devil Dogs. Louie put Oakley in charge of distribution of his drugs. Oakley started coming on to Johnna. He thought she was a student, right? She tried to keep her distance but he wouldn’t back off. One night he nearly raped her in the parking lot across the street. Businessmen leaving the hotel happened by, giving Johnna an opening to kick Oakley in the nuts and get away.”

Vining recalled her solo confrontation with Lonny Velcro in his library.

“Oakley later showed up at Johnna’s dorm room and forced his way inside. In the struggle, she grabbed a gun she had hidden and shot him. Louie later claimed that Johnna called Oakley, asked him to come over, and killed him to keep him out of the picture and throw the mob into turmoil, making it easier for the law to sweep in. The story was ridiculous. All Johnna wanted was to keep a low profile and her cover intact. Instead, she ended up in the news for weeks.”

Like me,
Vining thought.

“Johnna was exonerated, of course. No one gave a rat’s behind about Crispin Oakley. Everyone in Tucson was glad he was gone. Johnna made a lot of fans. And she made enemies, not the least of which was Louie Louie. Oakley was like the son he never had.”

“You think Lucchi orchestrated Johnna’s murder.”

“Jesse Cuba was found dead in his motel room on Miracle Mile, which is Tucson’s skid row. The coroner said the death was due to an accidental overdose. He had a packet of high-grade heroin in his room. He also had Johnna’s purse with her blood on it. She usually carried about a hundred bucks in cash and it was gone. Cuba had been clean for over a year. One day, he decides to use again and slaughters my wife for a hundred bucks?”

“When does the necklace come in?”

“A few months after Johnna shot Crispin Oakley, things settled down. Louie and his gang were in prison. The story faded from the news. Johnna and I got married. One day, the necklace showed up in our mailbox.”

“Did she have any idea who might have given it to her?”

“She thought maybe a local businessman who had been shaken down by Oakley’s gang was being generous.”

“What was the card like?”

“It was one of those panel cards people have done up for announcements or receptions. The message was handwritten in ink. It’s been a long time, but I remember what it said.”

“Do you have it?”

“I threw it out.”

“Where’s the necklace now?”

Alwin had been animated during his recitation of the events. Now Vining sensed him withdrawing.

“The police have it. She was wearing it when she was murdered.”

Vining was dubious. “She was wearing an expensive necklace on duty.”

“She wasn’t on duty. We were heading out for dinner. It was her birthday. Johnna was ready to go when Cuba called. She told me, ‘I’ll just be a few minutes. I’ll meet you there.’ She left and…” He let out a long sigh.

Vining thought of the necklace she’d kept yet had never considered wearing, finding the idea repellent without knowing why. “She was wearing that necklace to a birthday dinner. Sounds like it had meaning to her. Sentimental value.”

It clicked into place. “You gave it to her as a birthday gift from you.”

He let out an exasperated huff of air. “I know how this looks.”

She hadn’t liked him from the moment he’d called. Her instincts had never led her astray. Too bad she hadn’t learned to pay attention to them earlier in her life.

“Let me get this straight. You steal your wife’s mail and present it to her as a birthday gift from you.”

She heard rustling noises as he squirmed.

“I was jealous, okay? After the Oakley shooting, Johnna received a lot of attention. It hadn’t blown over. It looked like it would never blow over. Johnna was a local hero. Girl detective takes on the mob. Guys sent drinks over to her when I was sitting right there. She was even on TV talk shows. That necklace wasn’t the only gift she’d received, but it was the most expensive. I thought about not giving it to her at all, and then thought that would be a waste.”

“Your marriage was already on the rocks.”

“We’d been happier.”

Vining pressed on. “The case is closed. You never requested her effects?”

“Sure I did. I have her wedding rings and the earrings she was wearing. I didn’t ask for the necklace. Didn’t want it. I always felt creepy about it.”

She appreciated how he felt, but it did nothing to melt her opinion of him.

I
NSTEAD OF GOING HOME, VINING GOT ON THE
210
FREEWAY HEADING WEST.
At the far end of the Valley, she merged onto the 118 and got off at the exit for the Reagan Library. She retraced her route to Kendall and Rhonda Moore’s home, driving slowly, pulling over to let cars pass, as she tried to remember where she’d tossed the necklace into the meridian.

Panic welled inside her. It was pitch dark and the streetlights were widely spaced. All she remembered was that the meridian had large oleander hedges. She made a turn and found the hedges, but the boulevard stretched for blocks. Where had she tossed the necklace?

She decided on a spot and parked in the traffic lanes, turning on the light bar inside the car. Fortunately, the streets rolled up early in that city and traffic was light. With a flashlight, she picked her way through the tall shrubs, moving a block from her car. She returned to it, drove farther, and began searching anew, knowing that her chances were about as good as finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.

A short time ago, Vining had wanted to destroy the necklace, to forget it existed. Now it was precious, a prized trophy that linked the attack on her with the murder of a Tucson detective. She had to get it back. It was proof that the attack on her had not been random. She had not been the first and she probably was not the last.

She’d walked a good half mile from her car. Burrs and stalks of wild wheat stuck to her slacks and abraded her ankles. She’d knocked so many pebbles from her shoes she’d given up. She was starting to feel desperate and tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that she could get the television station’s videotape of her wearing the necklace. That might be the sole evidence she’d ever owned it.

The arc of the flashlight hit something that glimmered back at her. She bent double to creep into the bushes, nearly twisting her ankle when she landed on a gopher hole. The faux diamonds glittered under the beam, like a beacon, guiding her.

She gathered the necklace into her fist and clutched it against her chest.

E
MILY CAME UP FROM HER ROOM AS SOON AS VINING ENTERED THE HOUSE
through the garage.

“Hi sweetheart. How was your day? What are you doing up so late? School project?”

“School’s out tomorrow, Mom. There’s no more homework.”

“School’s out?”

“Tomorrow. You knew that.”

“Right. Already.”

“What’s going on? You seem all…distracted.”

Vining took off her jacket and followed her nightly procedure of taking off her shoulder holster and storing her Glock. “I am, sweet pea. I’ve had a long day.”

From the kitchen counter, she picked up a green leafy plant in a small pot. “What’s this?”

“Basil.”

Vining pulled out the business card wedged into a plastic spear stuck into the dirt. It was from another local realtor. “I get it. To go with the tomato plant the other realtor left. Not to be outdone.”

She opened the refrigerator and looked inside. “I’m famished.”

“I made dinner.”

“
You
made dinner?”

“Lemon chicken cutlets.”

“Chicken cutlets?”

“
Lemon
chicken cutlets.” She moved her mother out of the way and took a covered plate from the refrigerator. “I pounded boneless chicken breasts, dredged them in breadcrumbs mixed with lemon zest, and browned them for a few minutes on each side in a little olive oil. I got the recipe from the Food Network.”

“When did you start watching the Food Network?”

“I was channel surfing and saw this guy cooking. He was doing something interesting and I thought I’d give it a try. It’s fun.” Emily warmed the cutlets in the microwave. “I’m expanding my skill set.”

Vining broke off a sample with her fingers. “This is really good, Em.”

She shrugged. “Wasn’t hard.”

“Cooking’s a good skill to have.”

“I also bought spinach salad in a bag.” Emily retrieved it from the vegetable bin. You should have some. You’re not eating enough vegetables.”

“Yes, ma’am. This is a feast. What a wonderful surprise. Thanks. You made my day.” Vining felt her eyes glisten. Her becoming emotional over small things was a sure sign she was overtired.

Emily piled spinach on a plate and sprinkled on the dried cherries that had come with it. With a fork, she laid on two cutlets. “You’re welcome.” She took a bottle of salad dressing from the fridge and plunked it on the table. “Raspberry vinaigrette. I’m going to bed.”

She put her arms around her mother who held on after Emily tried to let go. She kissed Emily’s head. “Good night. Sleep well.”

“You, too. Don’t stay up late,” her daughter said.

“I won’t. I promise.”

Vining drizzled salad dressing over the spinach, poured a glass of skim milk, sat at the dinette off the kitchen, and ate. The folded newspaper was on the table, but she didn’t look at it. The remote control was within reach, but she didn’t click on the TV.

The Food Network? A fun new hobby. Emily hadn’t talked about ghost hunting in a while. Maybe it was that simple. Maybe there was a lesson for her.

She put her dishes and utensils into the dishwasher, picked up her jacket from the back of a chair where she had draped it, and headed to her bedroom.

She took the necklace from her jacket pocket and put it away in the dresser drawer inside the box where she had stored it for years. She removed and hung up her clothes and sat to unbuckle her ankle holster, putting the Walther beneath her pillow.

She spied the thick notebook on her desk. Her name, the date of the crime against her, and the case number in black marker were on the spine in Kissick’s printing. His personal file of documents and photographs from her case. She didn’t open it. She didn’t know how many more nights would pass before she did.