Shoot from the Lip

25

The next day I overslept and had time for only a quick shower. Kate had long since gone to work by the time I left to hand over the newest GPS tracker to DeShay, and I was relieved not to have to face her this morning, knowing what I now knew.

I checked under my car bumpers before I pulled out, but found nothing. I decided it was long past time to organize the garage so I could actually fit my car in there. Leaving the Camry in my driveway had obviously created serious problems. It really boiled my water that someone had been lurking around and stuck those things on my car whenever they wanted. I still suspected Kravitz, no matter what he said to the contrary.

I drove downtown, and DeShay was ready for me, since I’d called ahead-if ready meant a morose man sitting in his cubicle up to his hairline in paperwork. I was a welcome distraction. He wore a navy suit, a silver-and-blue tie and a starched shirt. I guessed correctly that he had court today.

“This afternoon,” he told me.

“Bummer,” I said. The one thing DeShay hated about working homicide was the dress-up part. I gave him the plastic grocery bag containing the second GPS device.

“You think you can find any prints on this besides mine?” I asked.

“Doubt it, but we’ll try. Even the batteries had been wiped clean on the other one. I talked to tech this morning, and they said whoever planted the thing buried the e-mail address they used to connect to the Internet and watch where you went.”

“Having both devices might be more helpful, especially if tech can find a common link,” I said. “E-mail is very tricky, yes, but if you search-”

“Abby, what did you call me and Jeff once? Luddites?”

I laughed. “Yes. You remembered the lingo. That’s a step in the right direction.”

“I know how to write reports, check databases and stuff like that on my computer, but I’m still a Luddite and don’t plan on changing until the bosses make me. Jeff told me something I’ve never forgotten. He said technology is a great tool, but us homicide investigators have to deal with the people first. Murder is a people problem, and you learn the most from the humans, whether they’re dead or alive.”

“Jeff’s right. Now, get ready to hear some good news in the people department. I found Christine’s friend-the ex-prostitute.” I summarized yesterday, told him Loreen, aka Fiona, was holed up with Jeff. I also gave him the info on the notebook. “After I deal with my aunt, who is probably feeling very neglected since I started working this case day and night, I’ll call Emma, see if she remembers any notebook like the one Loreen described.”

“White can handle that,” DeShay said.

“No, I can do it. I’ll go over to the storage unit with Emma and-”

“Abby, handing over the GPS monitor is one thing, but that notebook could lead us directly to whoever might have killed Christine. We could use it in court, and we don’t want to mess with the chain of evidence.”

I knew he was right. “It’s just that I promised Loreen no police. If White does find the notebook, then-”

“Let’s not play what-if. You got us a lead. That’s what’s important.”

I checked my watch. “I’ve only got ten minutes to get to Aunt Caroline’s house-not enough time. You can bet I’ll pay for this by having to endure an extra dose of hostility. Gotta run.”

“The real drama queen in your family is your aunt?” He grinned.

“Are you implying I’m a drama queen, too?”

“Nope. You are the busiest, most headstrong person I’ve met besides my granny. Now get out of here.”

I nodded, hurried out of the offices to the elevator and jogged to my car.

My aunt lives in an older, established neighborhood with big, expensive houses, where she knows everyone on the block. And they probably know her better than she knows herself. This time of morning, the streets were wonderfully quiet compared to the frenzied freeways. But when I turned onto her street, a good twenty minutes past the time we agreed on, I saw that the chaos of an emergency had disrupted the peace.

An ambulance, a patrol car and my aunt’s open door and shattered front window made my stomach lurch. A uniformed policeman tried to wave me away, but I called out the window that my aunt lived at the address where obviously something very bad had happened. He told me to pull over to the curb.

“What’s your aunt’s name?” he asked when I met him on the sidewalk.

“Caroline Rose. Is she okay?”

Just then the paramedics pulled a stretcher out the front door and onto the walkway.

My hand went to my mouth and I pushed past the cop, starting to run toward them. Aunt Caroline’s neck was immobilized, and I could see blood on her forehead.

But when I heard her shout, “Abigail, you’re late!” I almost laughed with relief. She sounded strong, not to mention as furious as a bear with a sore ass.

The stretcher had been pulled into the ambulance before I could get to her. Then the cop caught up with me and took me by the arm.

“Please, ma’am. Your name?” he said.

“Abby Rose. I need to go with her.”

“I’m Officer Rowe. First off, they don’t much like riders in the ambulance, plus she only has minor injuries-bruises and a cut. Because of her age-”

“What about my age?” I heard Aunt Caroline shout before the smiling paramedic closed the back ambulance door.

“Anyway, you understand. We could use your help here for a few minutes. Then you can catch up with her in the ER. We need to figure out what went on here.”

“I don’t get it. She can talk. She must have told you.” Aunt Caroline may be the most irritating woman on earth ninety percent of the time, but I felt an urgent need to be with her now. She was the closet thing to a mother I’d ever had.

“Your aunt wasn’t exactly making a whole lot of sense. Maybe you can tell us if anything is missing. She kept saying, ‘He took it,’ over and over, but she never said what it was.”

I tried to clear my head as I watched the ambulance drive off. Coming upon this scene had hit me like a two-by-four upside the head, and I had trouble forming any coherent thoughts.

“Ma’am?” the officer said.

“Sorry, what?” I answered.

“Can you come inside the house?”

“Sure, yes.” But I had no idea if I could give him a clue as to what might be missing. My aunt’s goal in life is to collect as many expensive material objects as she can before she dies. She has three sets of English china, lots of silver, figurines from Germany, oil and water paintings, antique spoons-hell, antique everything. And then there was the jewelry. Diamonds and emeralds, pearls from the Orient. One of her Prada purses was probably worth a couple thousand dollars alone.

When we walked into the foyer, an older man wearing a yellow polo and khaki shorts who looked vaguely familiar was sitting on one of a matching set of padded antique benches. A female patrol officer had her notebook in hand.

Rowe said, “This is Mr. Desmond. He lives two doors down. And this is Officer Price.”

I walked over to them, nodded at the other officer and said, “Hi, Mr. Desmond. Remember me? Abby?”

He stood and took both my hands in his. “Abby, they say Caroline will be okay, so don’t you worry.”

Officer Price said, “Mr. Desmond is our hero. Sent the burglar packing.”

“This was a robbery, then? And you guys came because of an alarm?” I couldn’t imagine my aunt opening her door to a stranger. There must have been a break-in.

“Actually, Mr. Desmond called nine-one-one,” Officer Price said.

“I’m confused. What exactly happened?”

Mr. Desmond said, “Paperweight came flying through a front window while I was taking my walk. I heard Caroline scream, ‘Get away from me.’ I went to the window and saw her fending off this man using a crooked walking stick. She had blood on her head, and I yelled, ‘Hey!’ That’s when he took off-came barreling out the front door and ran down the block.”

I gestured to the left of the foyer. “This happened in her study?”

“Yes,” Rowe answered. “But Mr. Desmond doesn’t remember if the man had anything with him when he ran off. If so, it wasn’t large. I’m thinking jewelry, maybe? We found a safe in the study. You don’t happen to have the combination?”

I wanted to say, In your dreams, but settled for a simple, “No.” I walked toward the study, but Rowe said, “We’ve got a print unit coming. Please don’t enter the room. You can observe from the door-see if anything jumps out at you as missing.”

What jumped out at me was the utter disarray-the broken window, the overturned desk chair, the scattered papers, the lamp on the floor and the gnarled walking stick-a souvenir from my aunt’s trip to Ireland.

I swallowed, feeling horrible that I hadn’t been here to prevent this. Aunt Caroline had fought hard to protect herself. “Any other rooms look like this?” I asked.

“No, ma’am. Nothing else seems disturbed. I asked Ms. Rose if she disabled the alarm, and she said yes, but after that all she kept saying was like I mentioned before-that the guy took something.”

“She let this person in? Is that what you think?” I said.

“Seems that way, yes,” Rowe answered.

Officer Price said, “I’ll walk Mr. Desmond home, then head to the hospital. Maybe your aunt can tell us more once she’s calmed down. I’ll be back.”

Rowe nodded while I took Mr. Desmond’s spot on the bench. My legs felt rubbery, and I was still having a hard time making sense of this. “I don’t know if anything is missing, but I can tell you that the wall safe in the study is for things like her will, her deed. She keeps her jewelry in her bedroom safe-and that’s well hidden in her closet.”

“Anything of value in the study?” He nodded in that direction.

“Nothing. The desk is ornamental. She has a built-in desk in the kitchen where she keeps her checkbook and bills.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. Her checkbook is still there, and so is her purse with all her credit cards.”

“Maybe the robbery had just started when Mr. Desmond interrupted,” I said, half to myself.

“Unless your aunt was totally confused when she talked to me, whatever this guy took got her very upset.”

I didn’t want to disappoint him by pointing out that if the burglar took so much as a paper clip, Aunt Caroline would be upset. Before I could say anything more, the print unit arrived.

“Do you need me for anything else?” I asked as the two newest officers shuffled in and waited for Rowe’s instructions.

“Not now. Get to the hospital.” He told me Aunt Caroline had been taken to Methodist.

Before I left, I grabbed her purse from the kitchen, thinking she’d need her insurance card. I considered calling Kate, but I decided to wait until I had a better idea about Aunt Caroline’s condition.

I shouldn’t have worried about her health. When I was led to Aunt Caroline’s curtained cubicle in the ER, I found her as feisty as ever, complaining about the service.

She had a few strips on the gash near her hairline, a wound that had rusted her snowy hair. The hospital gown couldn’t hide the purple bruises on her arms or the dried blood streaks on her neck. Good thing there were no mirrors in here.

Officer Price was with her, and I recognized the look on her face. I’d probably worn that same frustrated expression more than once after an hour with Aunt Caroline.

Price stood. “Glad you’re here. Your aunt isn’t willing to talk, and the longer she remains silent, the harder our job gets. Of course, perhaps she doesn’t remember much.”

“What do you think I am? Senile? I remember. But I will not speak of this incident in a public arena. And let me tell you both, there is nowhere more public than this place.”

I closed my eyes, sighing heavily. “Please tell the officer everything you know.”

Aunt Caroline folded her arms across her chest. “No.”

“That’s it,” Price said, clearly irritated. “I’ve offered to interview your aunt in a more private area, and she is an unwilling witness at this time. She wants to file a report, fine. She’s got my card.”

She walked out, and God, how I wanted to go with her. “That woman was trying to help you.”

Aunt Caroline closed her eyes, and I could tell her demeanor had completely changed. “I know. The police and the paramedics were wonderful, but I had to make her leave.”

“What?”

“You don’t understand. I’m being released. When that girl with the clipboard comes back with my paperwork, take me home and I’ll explain.”

“Are you crazy? You’re not going home. You can stay with me until-”

“If you want to find out what happened and why, Abigail, you will take me home.”

“What in hell is wrong with you?” I practically shouted. “You could have been killed today.”

“You have a gun. You can protect us. I have something very important to discuss with you.”

“Does this have to do with the person who hurt you? Because we can have that discussion at my house.” I could be as stubborn as she was.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Take me home or I will call a cab. I won’t be intimidated into leaving the house I’ve lived in for more than thirty years.”

The girl with the clipboard, who happened to be a nurse about my age, arrived with a cheery, “Ready to get out of here, Ms. Rose?”

That was when my aunt said yes and to call her a cab, because her niece didn’t want to be bothered with her.

I choked down my anger and said, “Have it your way. I’ll take you home. But not before I get someone to guard your house.”

“Don’t bother. That stupid, deceitful man won’t be back, if he knows what’s good for him.”

Uh-oh. The only deceitful person on her radar right now was Harrison Foster. Had he attacked Aunt Caroline?

The nurse, meanwhile, was going over the discharge instructions, but neither of us was listening.

“Have you called Kate?” Aunt Caroline asked.

This was worse than I imagined. How could I tell my sister that she was involved with-

“Have you called Katherine?” Aunt Caroline repeated.

“I wanted to wait until I had more information on your condition. Now I can tell her that even a blow to the head doesn’t knock you off course.”

“Very funny, Abigail. They wouldn’t let me use the phone or I would have called her myself. You must tell her to come to my house straightaway and not waste a minute.” She then turned to the nurse, who’d given up on trying to talk to either of us. “Now, young woman, where are my clothes?”

Once we were in my car, I tried Kate’s office and got the answering service. They were gone for lunch. I left a message for Kate to come over to Aunt Caroline’s if she could, that there had been a little mishap. I repeated the same message on Kate’s voice mail. Meanwhile, I had to somehow convince Aunt Caroline that I should be the one to tell Kate about Foster’s scam-but only after I made sure my aunt was protected.

“We’re not leaving this parking garage until I make certain you’re not attacked again.” But as soon as I called DeShay and got his voice mail, I remembered he would be in court today. There was White-but he might be following the notebook lead, and besides, I couldn’t see him agreeing to babysit an obstinate old woman. Jeff had more than enough on his hands, and that left only one person with the manpower I needed.

Aunt Caroline interrupted my thoughts. “Can’t you get that policewoman to sit outside the house?”

“You haven’t exactly been cooperative, and besides, the police are too busy to park outside your house for your convenience.”

When she didn’t snap back at me, I glanced at her. She had a thumb on her cheek and two fingers on her forehead.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“After they scanned and X-rayed me, they gave me Tylenol for this headache, but it’s coming back with a fury.”

I grabbed my purse and a bottled water from the backseat. I found the Advil and handed her two tablets and the water. I also pulled out Kravitz’s card. “One more call and I think we’re in business.”

“Do you have call waiting if Kate phones?”

“Yes, Aunt Caroline.” I was sure she’d much rather have the sympathetic niece with her now, instead of me.

“I need a favor,” I said when Kravitz answered.

“Which means you have something to offer in return, I take it?”

“Yes, but this favor has nothing to do with Emma’s case.”

“You expect me to believe that?” He was mocking, condescending, heck, pick your favorite unpleasant adjective.

I was tired of arguing with people. “I need one of your guys-Louie might work. My aunt was the victim of a burglary and assault today, and I’d like a deterring presence outside her house.”

“I like that. Deterring presence. What do you have for me in return?”

“When I see your man in place, I’ll call you back.” I gave him Aunt Caroline’s address and disconnected.

As I pulled out of the parking spot, I turned to her. “How’s the headache?”

“Splitting. If you’ve finished playing detective, could you please get me home? I’m sure your sister will be waiting for us.”

But we soon learned Kate hadn’t arrived yet. The print unit was just leaving, and Price and Rowe met us in the driveway. They again asked Aunt Caroline for a statement. She again refused. In her oh-so-effective dismissive tone, she said she had a headache and might feel up to reporting this crime later.

They both shrugged and Price said, “It’s your call.” Then they left.

Whoever Kravitz was sending hadn’t shown, so I took my gun from my glove compartment, then held Aunt Caroline’s elbow as I led her up the walkway. She didn’t protest. I noticed someone had been nice enough to board and duct-tape the broken window. Maybe Mr. Desmond or Rowe. Certainly not Officer Price, who was probably counting her blessings that Aunt Caroline wasn’t her relative.

“Please get me an ice pack, Abigail. A ginger ale, too. I have mixers under the wet bar…” She put a hand to her head and closed her eyes. “But, of course, you know that.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I know where everything is.”

I helped her into the living room after we both removed our shoes. Why she opted for white carpet was beyond me. The living room was directly across the large marble foyer from the study.

Once Aunt Caroline was settled on her gold sofa, her feet propped on a matching ottoman, and I’d fetched her the ice and the ginger ale, she said, “Are you sure your phone is on? Kate should have at least called by now.”

“Relax. You should-” But then my cell did ring. “Not Kate,” I told her, then answered.

Kravitz said, “My man is outside. Your turn.”

“Hang on.” I looked at Aunt Caroline, who was holding the ice pack at the back of her neck. “I need a minute.”

Before I walked into the foyer, I glanced out the front window and saw a car parked across the street. Once I was out of Aunt Caroline’s earshot, I said, “I’m getting closer to the truth. There may be a notebook with valuable information stored with Emma’s household things. The police are looking for it, probably as we speak.”

“That’s all?”

“We may learn the name and address of Christine O’Meara’s killer from that notebook. I’d say that’s big news.”

“You may learn the name? You’re not sure?” he said. “And how did you find out about this notebook?”

“Can this wait? I just brought my aunt home from the hospital.”

“What does this assault on your family have to do with the case, Abby?”

“Absolutely nothing.” I was trying to keep my voice down, but Aunt Caroline must have heard me.

“Abigail, who are you talking to?” she called.

“I have to go, Paul. Thanks for the help.” I closed the phone. Back in the living room, I sat on the matching love seat across from my aunt. “Time for your story.” I wasn’t about to admit I’d learned everything about Harrison Foster. That would only make her horrible day worse. The one thing that made her happy was being in possession of disturbing information.

“I know you will be very perturbed with me, Abigail, but what I did was out of love. Please remember that.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“Your sister has made a horrible mistake, and I have the proof to help her understand how foolish she’s been.”

“Apparently you’ve been checking up on her new friend Clint.”

“I have. He’s married and has a child, and-”

“Like I said last night, she knows all that, Aunt Caroline.”

“Let me finish. His name, as I told you, is Harrison Foster, he does not work for a pharmaceutical company and he was the one who attacked me when I confronted him this morning.”

“That’s unbelievable,” I said. Damn. Foster was her attacker. Kate was a shrink, for crying out loud. Couldn’t she tell this guy was a major creep?

“I learned the hard way that he’s a very violent man. Your sister has gotten herself into serious trouble, Abigail.”

“Why did he attack you?”

“Because he could. You were supposed to be here, remember? But he was early and you were late. When I showed him the report my investigator had given me, he went into a rage. I fought him off as best I could, but he grabbed the report and ran when that old fart Desmond showed up.”

“That old fart might have saved your life, Aunt Caroline. What else did your investigator learn?”

“He’s getting a divorce and has his own apartment. The wife and girl live in the house-somewhere in the Memorial area. All the details are in the report, which he stole from me.”

I took a deep breath, becoming increasingly worried that Kate hadn’t called. Was she with this guy right now? Would he go nuts like he had earlier and hurt my sister? “Before he went off the deep end, did he offer any explanation for why he lied about who he really was?”

“I didn’t ask questions, Abigail. I knew everything there was to know. I simply told him he was a charlatan and that he needed to stay away from Kate. Don’t you see this is about her money? He planned on swindling as much as he could from her and then disappearing.”

“Oh, I understand.” I’d come to the same conclusion. Foster’s game was up, and I could only hope he’d decided to disappear as quickly as he’d entered Kate’s life. “What detective agency did you use, Aunt Caroline? I keep duplicates of anything I generate for a client, and I’m sure they do, too. I’d like to read everything they learned.” There could be more information than I had, more than Aunt Caroline remembered.

She gave me the name and said their card was on the bulletin board over her kitchen desk.

“Good,” I said. “We can have them e-mail that report to your computer and-”

“What computer?” Her expression reminded me of a lying child caught red-handed.

“The one I gave you. The one I set up for you in your family room.”

“The lack of a computer is rather a long story.” She avoided eye contact. “All you need to know is that I do not have one.”

“Great. Let me think about this.” She could have them send everything to my e-mail account, but though I could pick up the message on my BlackBerry, the print on the download would be small. It seemed far easier to print out everything at home and be back here within twenty or thirty minutes. Besides, I’d then have time to make an important phone call without Aunt Caroline asking questions about what I was doing and why.

I told her the plan and had her make the call to the agency and give them my e-mail address; then I left. The man watching the house wasn’t Louie. He was younger and seemed less than thrilled with this boring job. I gave him Foster’s description and took off for home.

I called Jeff as soon as I was on the road and told him about the attack and how I couldn’t get hold of Kate even though I had tried several times. He didn’t like the fact that Kate wasn’t returning my calls any more than I did. He said he’d call in Foster’s description as Aunt Caroline’s assailant. She might not be willing to file charges, but they might be able to pick this guy up on something else.

I said, “I’ll call you back as soon as I get the Foster report-maybe in the next fifteen minutes.” I hung up and glanced at my phone. The current wallpaper on my display was a picture of my sister sitting on my couch holding Diva. “Where are you? Did you somehow find out the truth and are licking your wounds somewhere?”

I closed the phone and concentrated on my driving. The sick feeling in my gut that had begun last night when I found out my sister had been used and lied to was growing larger with each passing minute. But if she did know about Foster, maybe she was at my house hiding out, embarrassed and angry, not wanting to talk to anyone.

She wasn’t at home. With Diva and Webster following on my heels, I’d checked every room before I went to the computer. I accessed my e-mail, and the message from Aunt Caroline’s PI was waiting in my in-box. I saw there was more than a report. JPEG files were attached. Pictures. I saved the attachments to my desktop and printed them out. The report came first, and I was already reading how they had learned Foster’s true identity as the pictures slowly filled the printer tray.

Their investigation had been as easy as shooting cans off a fence, and I wondered how much Aunt Caroline had paid them to follow Foster for a day and then probably run the same computer search I had.

The last picture was still printing, but I picked up the others. One was a grainy shot of Foster entering an apartment, the next a better picture of the entrance to the complex with the name prominent-Garden Grove. Then a photo of a brick home with well-tended landscaping and a Lexus in the driveway. This one was obviously taken with a telephoto lens, and so was the next-Foster leaving the car. Next came a shot of the front door and a woman standing there. Foster was leaving, a teenage girl by his side. The daughter. He’d even lied about her-told Kate he had a son. Her head was turned as she waved good-bye to her mother, and I couldn’t see her face. But the last picture, the ink still wet, had a full shot of Foster’s face as well as his daughter’s.

I blinked… blinked again, and then I almost strangled on my own heart.

That girl could have been Shannon O’Meara’s twin.