Covert Reich (7 page)

Linden nodded and leaned back in his chair. He folded his hands together and placed them under his chin. “You spoke with a woman doctor.” He looked down at some notes. “Dr. Morales? I understand she had a dinner date with the vic.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Her story checks out. She was at the restaurant waiting for him. Busboy confirms seeing her. She claims they had some patients to discuss.”

Linden made a face. “What? This guy is the morgue man and she’s in the NICU. What patients could they have in common?”

“I would assume an infant…or mom. It happens. Maybe she needed to talk pathology with him. I don’t know. It seemed plausible to me.”

“Guy is taking her to Tuscany’s to talk business? He’s gonna fork over that kind of cash on a business meeting? I don’t buy it. He was looking to get a piece of ass.”

“I think he might have been looking in the wrong place,” Tony replied.

“Ice queen?”

“No. I think she’s respectable, is all. I think they were friends. Seems like there was a mutual attraction between them and if the poor guy hadn’t been killed, they may have wound up in a relationship. But at the stage they were at, it wasn’t happening yet.”

Linden studied him and clucked his tongue. “She must be a looker.” Tony didn’t respond.

Tony understood his boss’s implications. “Please. I am a professional. Dr. Morales answered my questions and was cooperative. That’s the bottom line.” He sighed and thought carefully about what he was going to say next. He wanted to prove to Linden he hadn’t been blinded by the doctor’s good looks. “I did get the feeling, though, that she could be hiding something.”

“Why do you say that?” Linden He picked up his mug and took a swig.

“Just a hunch, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, you need to trust hunches. Sometimes gut reactions solve cases. Stay with her a little longer.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes again. “I want an arrest on this, Pazzini. And soon. My oldest kid just got accepted at USF. Place is not cheap. My youngest needs braces, and my wife wants to go on a European vacation. She seems to forget I’m not Donald Trump. And between us, I am ready to retire from this place. But before I do, I need to go out on a high note, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.”

“Get back to me as soon as you have something. I’ll make some calls, see if I can keep the politics at a minimum. You’re working with Simmons on this.”

“What?” Pazzini asked. “You’re kidding, right? You can’t do that to me. Come on…”

“Does it look like I’m kidding? You’re going to need a partner on this one.”

“I do my best work alone.”

“Not this time,” Linden said. “He’s a good cop. He’s a little different, but he’s sharp. You can tolerate his idiosyncrasies.”

Tony rolled his eyes and walked out of the office. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. He had a front-page homicide with no real leads, and now he had to work side-by-side with the urban cowboy.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Upbeat jazz thumped through stereo speakers. Champagne glasses clinked together as more bubbly was poured. Ryan smiled at his wife, Jeanine. She winked back. The Mueller’s annual wine tasting party was in full force.

As much as Ryan hated being away from the kids, wondering what he
might
come home to, the timing of the party could not have been better. Ever since he’d sent that e-mail, he’d been driving himself insane. The visit from Peter Redding hadn’t helped at all. Ryan had to find a way out. Any way out.

Then yesterday, Jeanine reminded him of the dinner party at the Muellers’ home, and immediately he began to plan. For him to get out, for him to get his family out, would take some organization and risk. But he had no choice. He could not continue with The Brotherhood, with Frauen Pharmaceuticals, and with Peter Redding. He knew if he didn’t get them out, it would only be a matter of time until he and his family wound up like the Petersens. He winced at the thought.

Ryan took another glass of champagne from the caterer and kissed Jeanine on the cheek. She flashed her pretty smile at him, her blue eyes sparkling. “I love you,” he said.

She cocked her head to the side and brushed her blonde hair behind her shoulders. “I love you, too, sweetheart. Might want to slow down on the champagne, though. You’re not exactly great at holding your liquor.”

He waved a hand at her. “I’m fine. I think after working as hard as I do, I deserve a little drink.” He waved the glass in the air, slurred a bit, and spoke more loudly than normal. Ryan was known for being a bit on the quiet side.

“Ryan,” she said, giggling nervously.

“In fact, sweetie, I am going to get another drink.”

“I, uh, I…”

Jeanine’s friend Bärbel approached them. “Everything okay?”

“Just fine,” Ryan answered. He headed to the bar and then to the bathroom where he poured the drink down the drain and sat on the edge of the bathtub. He was tired of this game. And he hoped what he was about to do would work. He hoped Jeanine would believe him and do everything he needed her to do to get them out of this. He took out a card he’d bought at a gift shop earlier that day, and wrote a detailed note inside. He had to be quick, but it was the only safe place he knew he could do this. He was sure they had some kind of surveillance in his car.

Redding may have had cameras installed in his home, but he couldn’t have put them everywhere Ryan and his wife went. Certainly there weren’t any inside the Mueller’s home.

Someone tapped on the bathroom door.

“Just a second,” Ryan said.

He came out of the bathroom and smiled at the woman who walked past him, as he apologized for taking so long. Then he walked over to the bar and got himself another drink. Ryan found Jeanine talking with a small group of friends, laughing and gossiping. He staggered a bit. “Honey, I think maybe we should go,” Jeanine said, as Ryan stumbled into her.

“No, no. I want to take a walk. Let’s go outside and get some air. I love their back yard,” he said, trying to keep just enough drunkenness in his voice.

“Honey, really, you’re tired. We should go.”

“No, Jeanine. Please. Take a walk with me.”

Jeanine glanced at her friends.

“Take him out for some air, darling. We’ll be right here. I can have the caterer brew some coffee. That will help,” Bärbel said.

“Um, okay,” Jeanine replied.

Ryan hooked his arm through hers and said, “That’s my girl.”

They threaded through a group in the family room and out to the back garden where a few people mingled in the crisp night. “Ryan, you are drunk. We need to go,” Jeanine said once they were out of ear-shot.

He took her by both arms, faced her, and looked straight into her eyes. “I am not drunk,” he said, his tone low. “I am stone-cold sober.”

She hesitated. “What? Then what the…”

“Come sit down on the lounge chairs with me. I have something for you that will explain everything. You’re going to think I’m crazy…”

“No kidding. I already do.”

He looked at her again. “Have I ever lied to you?” Of course she did not know their lives were now one big lie, but he was only doing it to protect them.

She shook her head and looked warily at him. “No.”

“I’m not starting now. I am dead serious and we don’t have a lot of time. Trust me. Sit down and act like you’re pleased I gave you this card. Then do everything it says.”

“Ryan?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Fine.”

They sat down on the edge of the chairs. Ryan put his coat over her shoulders. He handed her the card and watched her expression. She glanced at him a few times, a look of disbelief and dismay on her face. “This can’t be true.”

“It is.” He wasn’t sure she believed him. Not until she slapped him hard across the face, with angry tears in her eyes, in front of everyone at the party.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Kelly hadn’t wanted to come into work. And she hadn’t wanted to leave Syd. But Jake’s murder had shaken her to the core and now she needed to find a way to get those blood samples to Tamara. She knew she could get blood from Baby S, but getting a hold of Lupe Salazar’s blood-work would not be easy. And what was she testing for, anyway? Damn. Kelly knew it was a long shot, but she had to try everything. If she sat back and did nothing, she worried Jake’s murderer would get away.

Since she’d last been there, the hospital had flooded with reporters and police making it difficult to get through the front doors. She threaded her way between officers and frustrated patients. The police were vainly trying to manage the media. Fortunately, by five o’ clock the turmoil had quieted down. The reporters had filmed their footage, aired their stories, and left.

What happened? Why had Jake been murdered? He was in trouble, she knew that. Why hadn’t she told the detective last night? Yeah, he was kind of a jerk, albeit an attractive jerk. He had been doing his job and she respected that. All the same, she couldn’t help resent his line of questioning. Had she been sleeping with Jake? Jesus!

But when all was said and done, she knew she had to reveal the conversation between her and Jake to the detective along with her theories about foul play and what happened to the Salazar girl and her baby. Kelly couldn’t help but suspect something sinister was underfoot where Lupe Salazar and Baby S. were concerned. She couldn’t help wondering what similarities there were between Salazar’s death and the recent deaths of those other two moms. She needed to get a hold of those files. She also needed to get at least one vial of Lupe’s blood.

She walked into the NICU and spotted Eric filling out a chart. He glanced up, a concerned expression on his face. “You okay?”

“Just tired, I suppose.”

“I am sure you are. We’re all a bit shaken, I think.”

A monitor sounded from down the hall, and Kelly remembered why she’d come into the unit. She walked over to the Salazar baby. Her little eyes were closed, opalescent lids shut tight. Her tiny body heaved with each machine-assisted breath. “Hi, sweet one.” Kelly put gloved hands through the incubator’s hand holes, and skimmed Baby S’s back with her finger. The baby flinched slightly. She removed her arms and hands, not wanting to over-stimulate her. It didn’t make any sense, but something told her tiny Baby S. held the key to Jake’s murder.

She also knew the child’s life depended on those answers. She took out a tube from her lab coat and performed a quick blood draw, gently inserting the needle into the infant’s heel. She’d done this so many times during her intern days, babies rarely even felt it. This one was no exception.  She glanced around, knowing it was a bit risky. The docs rarely drew blood and she didn’t want to be questioned. No one seemed to take note as she slipped two vials of blood into her coat pocket. “Please help me find the answers, little one,” she whispered. “I think I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was one of the most heinous and grisly murders in San Diego history. Known for its pristine beaches and moderate climate, the city was totally unprepared for a crime of this magnitude.

San Diego was only two hours south of Los Angeles and the Petersen murders had been a huge story well beyond the city’s borders. Gem covered it for
The
Times.
It was a seemingly senseless crime and people wanted answers. They needed someone to blame. The only thing the police could dig up was Petersen’s tenuous link to the Mexican drug cartel. No arrests were ever made, but they connected his wife, Selena, to the cartel via a cousin involved in drug running. He’d been found dead only a week after Eric and his family were murdered. Some figured it might have had something to do with Petersen’s job as a chemist for a San Diego bio-tech firm. It was believed Petersen had been developing a new kind of drug for the cartel, or possibly supplying them with Percocet, Vicodin, or some other pharma narcotic they could resell for top dollar on the street. The police assumed something had gone sour and pissed off cartel leaders, and the family had been brutally murdered as a warning to any other “risk takers.” But even now, it was hard to know the truth. When it came to the Mexican cartel, there were few informants, and many suspected drug money padded police pockets on the U.S. side of the border.

The story had been awful and Gem was happy to put it behind her. But now…this e-mail. It got her thinking again. She reread it at home. Went back over all her files on the Petersen family.

Gem got up from her desk and went to the fridge to pour herself a glass of Pinot Grigio. She took the glass of wine outside and sat on the patio. The sky had transformed into a myriad of different hues—purple, red, yellow. It was a gorgeous sunset. But its beauty didn’t take away the feeling she was missing something. Something big. She could not get the images of the Petersen family out of her mind. The photos sat on her desk. They showed a happy family. They were well-off and lived in the well-to-do Scripps Ranch suburb. How no one in their neighborhood saw or heard anything the night of the crime still baffled Gem, but she’d let it all go once the cops said the cartel was responsible.

Gem stood and moved an overgrown hanging fern out of her way. There didn’t seem to be anyone home at her neighbor’s house tonight.

Three years ago she’d noticed her very handsome, younger neighbor in the townhouse across from her place in Studio City. She wasn’t sure if he owned or rented. What she did know was how much she enjoyed watching him sun himself on the patio when the weather was warm. Yum. But no women ever seemed to visit. At least not any Gem had seen. No men either.

She’d only actually exchanged words with him a few times. But although the guy was handsome, something in the way he spoke to her gave Gem the creeps. However, creepy or not, she could not see Mr. Clean-Cut, all-American involved with the Mexican cartel. Then again, stranger things had happened.

Gem went back inside and poured herself another glass of wine, her nerves on edge. She sat down again and read over the story she’d written about the Petersens. She looked at the photos again. She tried to send Chemmadderhorn@gmail a reply, but it bounced back. Of course it did. Maybe this was all a hoax. But why?