Secrets to the Grave

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“If Bruce Bordain did it—or had it done,” Hicks said, “why would he turn around and send the breasts to his wife? Or try to run her off the road?”

“To make it look like someone has it in for the family,” Campbell said.

“But it looks like someone just has it in for the wife,” Trammell pointed out.

They helped themselves to doughnuts if for no other reason than to perpetuate the stereotype. The war room smelled like grease and coffee.

“My money here is still on Darren,” Mendez said. “Unless Mark Foster steps up, he’s got no alibi. And even if Foster comes forward, it’s like he said himself last night: ‘So what?’ That’s like uncorroborated accomplice testimony. It’s useless. Why wouldn’t his lover lie for him? Isn’t that part of the job description?”

“And your mother wonders why you’re single,” Campbell said.

“Well, come on,” Mendez said. “Really. Wouldn’t you rather have people think maybe you bat from the other side of the plate than have them suspect you of murder? You go to prison for murder.”

“A pretty boy like Bordain goes to the can he’ll find out all about being a good boyfriend,” Trammell said.

“Say he thinks he’s Haley’s father—or he finds out that’s been a hoax all along—either way,” Mendez went on. “He kills her and makes it look like some lunatic did it. He sends the breasts to Mom for good measure. Then he tells everybody he couldn’t have done it by admitting to something that’s so scandalous no one would ever think he was lying about it.”

“Right,” Dixon said. “And who believes Milo Bordain knows about all of this and is just blithely writing the blackmail checks while treating Marissa Fordham like her long-lost daughter?”

Hamilton issued a low whistle. “These people would make Shakespeare’s head spin.”

“Tony,” Dixon said. “You and Bill go up to Lompoc with that photo array and add a shot of Bruce Bordain. If one of them sent that box, there’s our killer.”

“That’s a great plan, boss,” Hicks said. “Except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Shit. How did that happen?” Dixon scowled.

“What about Gina Kemmer?” Trammell asked.

“No change in her status,” Hicks said. “The doctors aren’t very hopeful.”

“Then we don’t have a choice. We need to speak with Milo Bordain.”

“The problem with that is going to be that Milo Bordain isn’t going to want to speak with us,” Mendez said. “There’s no way her husband will allow it.”

“She’ll do it if she thinks she can move everyone around the chessboard the way she wants them,” Dixon said. “I’m going to offer her the opportunity to set us straight. I think she won’t be able to resist.”

“Good luck, Boss,” Mendez said. “Just one question: Are you up-to-date on your tetanus shots?”

“I’m fine. What about you?” Dixon asked, heading toward the door. “You’re coming with me.”