The Next Victim (23 page)

Nash frowned. "Could you make out what this other person was saying?"

"No. It could have been the television, even. That's what I assumed at the time. But the thing is, one of the items on the counter was a jar of mayonnaise. John hated the stuff, never ate it. So he clearly made a sandwich for someone besides himself."

"Who do you think it was?"

Kali's phone rang and she quickly checked the screen. Bryce. With a twinge of guilt, she turned off the ringer and slipped the phone back into her purse. "I was hoping you might have some ideas."

Nash shook his head. "I can't imagine who would want to kill John."

Kali hated to even
think
the words she was about to say next. "I know he and Sloane were having a disagreement about the future of Logan Foods. John might have lost his job if Sloane had had her way. But he couldn't have been the only one who'd benefit from having her out of the picture."

Confusion, and then disbelief, clouded Nash's face. "Reed?"

"It's possible, isn't it? And there might be others. Some of the directors, maybe. I'm not really familiar with the structure of the company." And because it wasn't publicly held, there was no way for her to find out.

But Nash wasn't buying any of it. "I can understand it's hard for you to believe John was responsible, but the police were on top of this. I assume they know what they're doing. I don't want to speak out of turn here, but maybe you should let it go."

"Let's put Reed aside for the moment, then," Kali said. "Are you aware of anything John was involved in that might...might put him in a position to be killed?"

Again, Nash shook his head. Kali thought he was probably beginning to regret suggesting they meet for drinks.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at," he said after a moment.

"What about women? Sex? That sort of thing."

She'd thought Nash might be offended, but instead he seemed amused. "I can see I'd never make it as a defense attorney. I'm not nearly creative enough. John was dating a woman who lived back East. I met her once but I'm afraid I can't remember her name."

"Susan Harris?"

"Yes, that's it. She seemed like a nice woman. As for sex"--here Nash actually grinned--"I never asked John about that aspect of their relationship."

"Did you ever see him with other women? Much younger women?"

"Can't say that I did. Why do you ask?"

Clearly Nash was not in a position to be of help. The evening had been pleasant, but not especially useful. "Just curious," Kali said lightly.

"You must have had a reason to ask."

What the hell? Maybe something would trigger a memory in Nash's mind. "I'm exploring the possibility that Sloane wasn't the target victim after all," Kali explained.

Nash stroked his chin. "Corporate law is looking better and better. At least there's logic to it." His tone was light, good-natured. It was obvious he didn't buy her concerns but, at the same time, didn't want to appear dismissive. In fact, he seemed more interested in her than in what she had to say.

She'd been hoping Nash would take her concerns seriously. Now she could see he didn't. "I need to be going," Kali told him.

"You haven't finished your drink."

"Good thing, too. Or I might never find my way home."

"I can give you a ride." His eyes met hers.

She smiled. "Thanks, but I'm fine."

Nash seemed reluctant to have her leave. "Have you ever been to the Desert Museum?" he asked.

"I've heard of it, but I haven't been there."

"Would you like to go sometime? I'm a member, supporting member actually. I've got an annual pass and I'd love to take you."

Kali remembered the call from Bryce she'd ignored. She felt a little uncomfortable, almost as if he were watching, but that was silly. And Nash's offer to show her one of the town's attractions was hardly a date.

"I'm not sure how much longer I'll be around," she told him. "But if it works out, I'd love to go."

Commute traffic had thinned out, but cars still crawled along at well below the speed limit. It sometimes took Kali two light cycles to get through an intersection. Which was why, as she neared John's, she sped up instead of braking when the light turned yellow twenty feet in front of her. She was chiding herself for pushing it, especially after two Cosmopolitans, when she noticed the beige sedan behind her had sped through as well. He'd
really
pushed it, she thought. Then it struck her that the car was similar to the one parked behind her at the university.

That was crazy. It couldn't be the same car. Hadn't Nash teased her about having a creative imagination? Besides, beige sedans were common. Still, she felt better when the car turned right at the next corner as she continued straight.

She pulled into the driveway and headed inside.

"I'm in here," Sabrina called out as Kali closed the front door.

Kali followed the sound of her voice to John's office, where she found her sister seated at the computer.

"John sure got a heck of a lot of spam," Sabrina said, scrolling down the screen. "Other than that it's mostly car stuff, except for the e-mails from me and the kids."

Kali peered over Sabrina's shoulder, momentarily speechless. "How did you log on?" she asked finally. "Onto the computer, I mean. It's password protected."

"Well, you know what they say, that people aren't very inventive. They use their birth date or phone number or pet's name. It only took me half a dozen guesses."

Kali had tried those same things herself, with no luck. "So what was it?"

"Nippercles."

"What?" No wonder she hadn't gotten it.

"John's pet hamster," Sabrina said.

"John has a hamster?"

"Not now. When we were growing up. Don't you remember Nipper?"

Now that she'd been prompted, Kali did recall the soft, furry ball of brown fuzz that had been John's constant companion during junior high. Hercules he wasn't, except maybe in John's imagination, but Nipper had morphed into Nippercles and the name had somehow seemed to fit. At the moment, though, Kali was most astounded by her sister's resourcefulness.

"I'm impressed," she said. "How did you think to try that?"

Sabrina gave her a long look. "Maybe if you'd spent a little time getting to know John, you'd have figured it out too."

"No need to get snippy."

"I wasn't. I was merely making an observation." Sabrina pushed the keyboard away and stood up.

"Come on," she said, "let's eat. I made us a Cobb salad."

"Out of what? The fridge was empty."

"What do you think grocery stores are for?"

Sabrina wasn't someone who willingly spent a lot of time in the kitchen, but when she set her mind to it, she could put together a five-star meal. The salad was an artful arrangement of poached chicken, hard-boiled egg, avocado, and cherry tomatoes on top of a bed of mixed greens. Despite the nachos Kali had had earlier, she was suddenly famished.

"So what else was on the computer?" Kali asked over dinner. After two Cosmopolitans, she'd decided to stick to water, but Sabrina had her usual vodka and tonic.

Sabrina brushed the air with her hand. "Music files, correspondence about some car repairs, a spreadsheet of investments, a bunch of photos. John got himself a good digital camera a while back and he was getting into photo editing. He's got some really great shots."

"Photos?" Kali felt a prickle of interest. "What kind of photos?"

"Nature stuff mostly. Nothing with those girls in it, if that's what you're wondering. Or any girls."

That was precisely what Kali had been thinking.

Sabrina took a bite of chicken. "Did you find Olivia's friend?"

Kali nodded. "She didn't recognize the girl who looks like the dead Jane Doe, but the other girl is apparently someone named Crystal."

"Well, Crystal ought to be able to identify the dead girl."

"But we don't know how to find Crystal. In fact, we don't have anything but a first name."

"Maybe the cops will be able to find her."

Kali bit her lower lip. "That would mean telling them about the photo. And it would bring John's name in."

Sabrina sighed. "You really think there's a link between Olivia's murder and that other girl's?"

"It's odd that two of the girls in the photo were murdered, and within weeks of each other."

"It could be a coincidence," Sabrina argued halfheartedly.

"You believe that?"

"Jesus," Sabrina muttered, "I sure hope Crystal's not dead, too."

Kali spent a restless night, struggling with her decision about the photo when she was awake, and dreaming about terrified girls in peril during those rare occasions when she managed to drift off to sleep.

After breakfast, she left Sabrina to finish cleaning out closets and filling boxes for Goodwill, while she drove to the four-star hotel downtown where Olivia's mother worked as a maid.

Kali started to approach one of the clerks at the front desk, then thought better of it. Even if they knew the names of the housekeeping staff, which they might not, they weren't going to summon the woman downstairs at Kali's request. Instead, Kali walked past the reception area and pressed the elevator button.

She started at the top. Luckily, there were only twelve floors, rather than twenty or thirty, like some of the larger hotels. A housekeeping cart was parked outside a room at the end of the hallway to the right. Inside the room, two women were making beds and conversing in Spanish. Both were too young to be Olivia's mother, but Kali knocked lightly on the open door and asked if they knew where she could find Angeles Perez.

They exchanged a few words in rapid Spanish, then, looking embarrassed, shook their heads.

Kali repeated the exercise on floors eleven and ten. On nine, she found someone who directed her to four. There she waited near the housekeeping cart until a middle-aged woman in a maid's uniform returned to the cart for fresh towels.

"Mrs. Perez?" Kali asked.

The woman looked startled. Her dark eyes were alert. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I wanted to talk to you about your daughter."

The woman pressed her lips tight and lowered her gaze.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss. I can only imagine how terrible it must be for you."

Angeles Perez nodded softly without speaking. She was a pleasantly plump woman with dark, wavy hair and remarkably unlined skin. She looked to be in her early forties, probably only five or ten years older than Kali, but her shoulders were rounded, her posture that of a woman much older.

"You're a reporter?"

Kali shook her head. "I'm an attorney involved in an investigation of your daughter's death," she said and waited for a lightning bolt to strike her dead. It wasn't really a lie, she reminded herself, and since she'd not actually been served with papers in the wrongful death lawsuit, there was technically nothing wrong with talking to the woman directly. Still, Kali knew she was pushing the limits of what was ethically correct.

It didn't stop her.

Angeles pressed a knuckle to her mouth. "She was my baby. My little girl." Her eyes welled up. "I thought it was a
good
job, my Olivia working for Mrs. Winslow. I was so happy for her. And now...because she was there...my baby's dead."

Another one of the housekeeping staff stepped up to the cart. She was younger, Anglo, with bleached hair and thin lips. She addressed Kali. "Is there a problem?"

"No, I just needed to speak to Mrs. Perez. It's a personal matter."

"It's okay," Angeles said to the woman. "It's about my daughter."

"Still?" The woman tapped her foot. "Well, don't take all day. I'm not doing more than my share."

"I know you're busy," Kali told Angeles. "Maybe if you've got a break coming up, we could talk then."

"Lunch is in two hours."

"I'll wait," Kali said.

Angeles Perez nodded. "Across the street by the art museum. I'll meet you in front."

Lacking the patience for an art museum right then, Kali used the time to browse the museum store and the shops of Old Town a block away. By the time she met Angeles Perez, she'd purchased a pair of silver earrings, a pack of desert-flower note cards, and a lovely hammered-copper vase she was having shipped back to California. It had been an interesting, but costly, two hours.

"Can I buy you lunch?" Kali asked after she'd greeted Angeles.

The woman held up a paper sack. "We'll talk, and then I will eat."

They sat on the sculpted metal bench in the shade in front of the museum. A hot, dry breeze sent a candy wrapper dancing at their feet.

"You must have been proud of Olivia," Kali said.

"Yes, very. Such a girl--smart, pretty, sensible." Angeles smiled wanly. "And headstrong, like a bull. My husband, he didn't understand. He didn't like it that she talked back. I tried to tell him it was good. The fire inside her is what made her work so hard."

"You obviously did a fine job raising her."

"Olivia was a good daughter. She told me, 'Mama, I'm going to be rich someday, and buy you anything you want.' She told me to start making a list." Angeles looked down at her hands. "I miss her so much."

"Did you know many of her friends?"

"In high school. Not now."

"Does the name Crystal mean anything to you?"

She shook her head. "No. Sorry."

"I have a photo of your daughter," Kali said, "with two of her friends. I'd like you to look at it and tell me if you recognize either of them. Will that be too painful for you?"

"I have pictures of her in my house," Angeles said gently. "Many pictures. I look at them every day. But a mother doesn't need pictures to remember, and the pain never goes away."

She took the photo from Kali and studied it with a frown. "I'm not sure, but the girl at the end, the redhead, she might be the girl who buys lottery tickets."

"Lottery tickets?" Kali asked.

"Every Friday she buys. Five tickets."

"You know her name?"

Angeles shook her head. "Olivia was with me when we bought gas at the Circle K. The girl was there. They talked, you know, girl talk. Then back in the car, Olivia told me about the lottery. Every Friday. The same Circle K."