Double Take

CHAPTER 5

Captain Frank Paulette arrived with the two inspectors who’d been the leads on the Dr. August Ransom murder case the previous fall and into the winter—Inspector Rainy Bigger and Inspector Allen Whitten. The two inspectors nodded at Julia Ransom, saying nothing at all. Cheney saw a flash of contempt on Inspector Rainy Bigger’s face, which made him frown, but there was only professional indifference on Inspector Allen Whitten’s face. Frank stepped forward and introduced himself to Julia, shook her thin white hand.

Cheney noticed there was no wedding ring on her finger, no jewelry of any kind.

“You’re sure you don’t want to see a doctor, Mrs. Ransom? That bruise on your jaw looks pretty bad.”

She lightly touched her fingertips to her jaw, opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. “It’s not broken, only looks bad. Thank you for your concern, Captain Paulette.” She looked at Inspectors Whitten and Bigger, weary resignation on her face. “Please come in. This is Agent Cheney Stone.”

Both Bigger and Whitten shook his hand. A fed, Cheney knew they were thinking, and that meant they wondered whether he enjoyed kicking local cops before breakfast.

Inspector Rainy Bigger gave Julia the once-over, not bothering to mask her dislike. “You’re looking particularly well, considering someone smacked you in the face and dumped you into the bay, Mrs. Ransom.”

Julia knew Bigger believed she’d killed August and had gotten away with it. She hated how the inspector’s hostility made her feel defensive, reduced her to feeling unworthy to be alive. She said, voice clipped, “Thank you. Good genes.”

“Or something else altogether,” said Inspector Bigger.

Julia said, “Agent Stone, do you think I smacked myself in the jaw, then happily hopped over the railing into the bay for a nice evening swim?”

“No, of course not,” Cheney said, and sent Inspector Bigger a back-off look.

“No, that isn’t what yon mean, is it, Inspector Bigger?” Julia said slowly. “You’re thinking a falling out among villains, perhaps?”

Inspector Bigger kept her mouth shut, but gave an elaborate shrug.

Cheney was relieved the inspector did have some minimal sense of professionalism.

Inspector Whitten said, “It would appear someone is out to hurt you, Mrs. Ransom.”

“I’m thinking the knife put it beyond the ‘hurt me’ stage, Inspector Whitten,” Julia said.

He nodded toward a beautiful Impressionist painting hanging over the Carrara marble fireplace. “That new?”

“You mean did I purchase it with my ill-gotten gains?”

That’s exactly what he meant, Cheney realized, but he didn’t say anything. He wanted to hear what Julia would say.

Julia said, “August wasn’t fond of the Impressionists. I am. I brought it down from my study. It’s a Sisley. My husband bought it for me as a wedding present. Do you like it, Inspector Whitten?”

“Well, yes, I do. Bet it cost Dr. Ransom a bundle. So who do you think is after you, ma’am?”

“The man wasn’t a mugger or some crazy drug addict. Given how he behaved, what he did—it occurred to me he could be the person who murdered my husband. He would have killed me if it hadn’t been for Agent Stone.”

“Yeah, Cheney is a hero,” Inspector Bigger said.

Frank frowned at both inspectors. Maybe it hadn’t been smart to bring them, particularly Inspector Bigger. She was a tangled mess of anger. Why? He’d need to speak to Lieutenant Vincent Delion, who’d be back from vacation in a couple of days, or hell, maybe it was a week before Vincent was back. He said, “It’s been six months since your husband was murdered, Mrs. Ransom. Why would your husband’s murderer want you dead now? Perhaps you remembered something about him or her? Perhaps you found something that could implicate someone and this person

found out?”

“I don’t think so, Captain Paulette.” But Julia frowned. “I’ll have to give that a lot of thought.”

Cheney said, “The attempt on your life means something’s changed, Julia. Think hard about what’s different now, about what could have drawn the murderer out into the open again.”

Inspector Bigger said, “You’re still big buddies with all the psychics in the Bay Area, aren’t you, Mrs. Ransom?”

“I see them occasionally.” Like Wallace, tonight for dinner.

“Word is you all hang out together, like a club of sorts.”

“What word?” Julia said to Inspector Bigger.

“Bits and pieces, here and there,” said Inspector Bigger.

Captain Paulette said, “I haven’t heard any word, Inspector. Maybe the real question here is, who stands to gain from your death?”

“No one, Captain Paulette. I have no living relatives. Well, perhaps there are some cousins four times removed, but I don’t know who they are. I do have a will. Everything goes to various medical research foundations.”

“All right. Now, please, Mrs. Ransom, if you’re feeling up to it, tell us exactly what happened.”

Julia didn’t tell them she’d actually felt happy, that the paparazzi had finally abandoned their various posts in the neighborhood, that she’d felt so alive she’d walked all the way to Fisherman’s Wharf, sometimes running for the sheer joy of it, sometimes whistling, saying hi to everyone she met. “I was standing at the railing at the far end of Pier 39, looking toward Alcatraz, watching the fog roll through the Golden Gate. It was getting late. There weren’t that many tourists left. The lights were coming on. I realized I had to get home because I had a dinner engagement.” She paused, drew in a deep breath. “He was tall, black, nice clothes, smart eyes—you know, like he saw everything and knew what it meant. He wore skinny-rimmed glasses, and he was very polite, asked me about Alcatraz, then about a ferry to Sausalito. I remember he had a nice smile, made me smile back. I told him about the ferry, then turned to show him where to walk to see the schedule. He hit me in the jaw, to daze me, I guess, and then he had a knife in his hand—it was silver, and I saw it had a sharp point, but before he could stab me with it, Agent Stone yelled at him to stop, and so the man hefted me over the wooden railing into the bay.” She frowned. “There weren’t any seals down there but I swear I heard one of them honking close by before I went under.”

“The man only asked about Alcatraz, then the ferry schedule to Sausalito?”

“Yes, Inspector Whitten, that’s all. He didn’t seem at all threatening. He was well-spoken, over six foot, I’d say, nice-looking, and again, he was very well dressed.”

Inspector Bigger marveled aloud, “Only you saw this knife, right? Maybe you didn’t really see a knife, Mrs. Ransom, maybe this man was a mugger who nailed you as someone really rich—”

“Rainy—” Inspector Whitten said, warning in his voice. “You said he smiled at you, Mrs. Ransom?”

Cheney saw Julia withdraw, though she hadn’t moved at all. But she was stiff all over now, hating this, hating them. She said, voice steady, “Yes, Inspector Whitten, and I smiled back, as I told you. It was impossible not to. He was wearing a Burberry coat, it had that look. Expensive, I’d say. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember anything else about him. Then I heard Agent Stone shouting at him.”

She watched Frank Paulette write down what she said in a small notebook. He was left-handed, like she was. He said to Cheney, “How well did you see the guy?”

“I saw his face only once, when he turned around to look at me when I yelled at him. Then he heaved her over the railing and took off. Like I told you, I got the impression he was an athlete, fast, supple. As to his age, he moved young, agile. I didn’t even have time to draw my gun. I couldn’t go after him because I had to haul out Mrs. Ransom.”

“Good timing,” Inspector Bigger said.

“Yes, I sure thought so,” Julia said, smiling hard at Bigger. “Hey, you think maybe I set the whole thing up to get Agent Stone on my side? Ah, may I ask why I need him on my side? Actually, I didn’t think I had a side. Am I missing something here?”

Cheney smiled to himself. There was strength there, he thought, and waited.

Inspector Bigger backed off.

Cheney wondered what had happened between the two women during the investigation into her husband’s murder.

Inspector Whitten said to Cheney, to get the attention off his partner, “You got no hint of recognition from this man? Nothing about him was familiar to you?”

Cheney shook his head. “Only that I’d bet the farm the guy’s a pro. He was fast and efficient. He didn’t alarm her. If I hadn’t been outside looking for a friend who was smoking, Mrs. Ransom would be dead. He did exactly what he needed to do to get away, once he realized I was an immediate danger to him. Now the thing is—” He paused a moment. “We know he meant to kill her because he didn’t mind that she got a really good look at him. And he knows he very probably failed to kill her. He’s also got to know we’ll have sketches of him plastered everywhere. He’d be crazy to stay in San Francisco.”

Captain Paulette said, “Do you think you got a good enough look at him to help a police artist make up a sketch of him, Mrs. Ransom?”