Forever Mine (29 page)

Dave had almost cleared the city limits before the Lexus was spotted again. Minutes later, the four pursuing squad cars had him penned in. He hadn’t given up easily. The Lexus’s front end sustained serious damage from butting the radio car, which moved at a crawl directly in front. The side passenger door had suffered repeated bruising from the cops forcing him into an ever tighter box along the rail. As sturdy as the Japanese car was, it had lost its ramming battle with the black and whites.

Now, a worn metal table bolted to the floor separated Ben from Dave. Dave’s wrists were shackled and attached to an iron ring embedded in the table top. Utilitarian faded green walls banded the small area. The only light came from the fluorescent rods glowing in the ceiling fixtures. Thompson leaned against a side wall, arms folded across his chest. An occasional bus rumbled by, giving evidence life pulsed beyond the walls. Other than that, quiet hung in the interrogation room’s stale air. Ben wanted to reach across the table, grab Dave by the throat, as he’d once professed to Allie, and squeeze until the scumbag’s life seeped away.

For a man possibly facing the death penalty, Dave showed little concern, judging from the loosey-goosey way he slouched in his chair, and the bare hint of a smirk twisting his mouth.

“All you have on me is I wanted out of the show. What’s the big deal?” Dave flicked his thumb nail against his pinky. His foot tapped a tattoo against the floor. “It bored me.”

“Is that so?” Ben slowly nodded. “I suppose you’re wanting to leave early makes sense since you have no fondness for women.”

Dave’s brow crinkled. “Says who?”

“Says a woman named Jordan Weeks. Anyway, that’s what she’d say if she was able to speak. But you and I know it’s impossible because she’s dead. We both know you murdered her.”

“Uh-uh, never knew anyone named Weeks.”

“There’s a proven connection between you and her. Then there’s another woman up in Seattle. I believe her name is…excuse me…
was
Laura McKenzie. Your prints were found in her car, and she’s dead, too. It’s pretty hard to chalk up your connection to those women as a mighty big coincidence.”

Dave shrugged. “Never heard of her either.”

Ben leaned closer, propped his elbows on the table and crossed one arm over the other. “Sure you did. What happened? She didn’t want to lend you her car, and her refusal made you mad? Your prints were found on the door handles and all over the inside.”

A subtle change skimmed over Dave’s face. The smirk faded and what might have passed for nostalgia took its place. For a long moment, his concentration turned inward.

“Hmm…Laura…Laura…” he said. “Seems to me the name is familiar. Pretty lady.” He bit into the lower edge of his bottom lip then let the skin slide free. He sighed. “Maybe I borrowed her car. The ladies like me. They all want to do nice things for me. As I recall, the car was stolen before I had a chance to return it to her.”

“The car wasn’t stolen. It was impounded by the Seattle P.D. in the parking lot of a bar where you were forced to leave it.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Wasn’t me. Anyway, what does it matter? It must have been returned to her. She never blamed me.”

“How could she…from the grave? Didn’t I already mention that to you? She was murdered. You left a keepsake, a heart imprinted with the words
Forever Mine
.”

Dave shook his head. The corners of his lips turned down in a pout. “I never harm women. I treat them well.” Then he smiled, but there was no mirth behind the frozen mask.

Ben sat back, adopted a relaxed posture. He folded his hands loosely in his lap. He kept his tone light as if they were two guys jawing about the women in their lives. “Like Allie Nash?”

“Allie. What about her?” Something dark dimmed the light in Dave’s eyes. Suspicion clouded his features. “Why are you asking me about Allie?”

“Does my asking about her bother you?”

“No. No, you don’t bother me.” He shrugged, another show of arrogance, which was probably why he hadn’t yet asked for a lawyer. Since Ben had already read him his Miranda rights, he naturally wasn’t about to suggest Barnett engage one. Maybe Barnett thought he wouldn’t need an outsider to defend him and believed he’d learned enough during the few months he spent in law school to stymie the cops.

“We know you called her.” Ben switched tacks. “Want to tell us about the woman in Red Bluff, Jordan Weeks?”

“Never heard of her.”

“But you have heard of Allie Nash. In fact, you’ve spoken to her on the phone several times.”

“We have a passing acquaintance.” Dave snapped his fingers. “She’s the reason I was at that stupid show. She invited me.”

His acknowledgement of some connection to Allie was what Ben sought.

“Ask her,” Dave said. “Or maybe you already have. What did she do? Complain about me?”

“Why would she do that?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Ben let the question hang between them.

“If she said anything against me, don’t believe her. Most women are liars, whores.”

“Why would she say anything against you after you sent her those beautiful flowers? And you even thought to have the florist enclose a heart with your favorite inscription
Forever Mine
. Isn’t that your calling card, so to speak? The flowers must have cost you a bundle.”

Dave’s brow wrinkled.

“No, wait a minute. They didn’t cost you anything.” Ben shook his head. “Besides her life, they cost Jordan Weeks plenty. Her credit card was charged. Now why would she send flowers to another woman whom she didn’t even know?”

He turned and looked at his partner. “What do you think, Ed? Make any sense to you?”

Thompson played dumb. “Sounds to me like she had no choice. Then she turns up dead. Why don’t you tell us about Jordan? Was she another lady who liked you and wanted to do nice things for you?”

An unmistakable confusion passed across Dave’s face.

“You still have the credit card that you used to order the flowers?” Ben asked. “Thompson, go check the items we confiscated from Dave. That’s all we need to tie him to Ms. Weeks.”

“That stupid…” Dave screamed through clenched teeth. His facial muscles compressed as rage pulled at his features. He curled his hands into fists and yanked the cuffs that kept him tethered to the table. “That’s what I get for leaving Jimmy alone. Stupid fool.”

Suddenly Ben shot up, knocking his chair backward. Thompson stopped at the door, alarmed. “Barnett never sent the flowers. It was Rix.”

Ben dove across the table, grabbed Dave by his shirt front and yanked him halfway out of the chair. “Where’s Jimmy?”

Dave tried to pull away. “Hell if I know where that moron is.”

Disgusted, Ben released him, shoving him back in the chair.

Dave’s smirk returned. It said more than a ten-thousand-word treatise. “Ah, well.” He shrugged. “You teach them the ropes then the kids go off on their own.”

Ben barely heard the last words as he and Thompson pounded out of the room.

Chapter Forty-One

“Hey, wait a minute.” Jimmy’s face contorted in a snarl as if an ugly thought had short-circuited his brain. “I don’t see no flowers.” His head swiveled around like he half expected the bouquet to spring up through the floor or the tile countertops.

“Where are they?” he asked, his voice a barely controlled shriek.

Allie’s eyes followed the same path as his around the familiar room, although hers searched in earnest for a weapon. Because of the small confines of the kitchen, she’d always kept the countertops fairly clear. The broken pieces of crockery lay in a puddle of water almost at her feet. But not so close that, if she made a quick move in their direction, he couldn’t intercept her.

“Where…are…the…flowers…Allie?”

Jimmy’s hands closed on her shoulders. His fingers dug into her flesh as he shook hard enough for her head to snap backwards. Pain shot through the base of her skull. Her body shuddered with a terrible awareness of the menace Jimmy had become.

Unaware of the level of violence of which he was capable, she determined to remain calm. Somehow, she must temper his anger. How better than to play on his newfound importance.

“The flowers were lovely, Jimmy.” Her words tumbled out on a soft, sweep of breath. “Unfortunately, they don’t last very long once they’re cut.”

She patted his hands, now resting slack on her shoulders. Hers were as cold and stiff as the tines of a fork. She managed to sidestep a short distance away. “I wish I’d known you’d sent them to me. I would have saved a few.”

She hoped her smile showed appreciation and not the disgust that filled her body with a sickening ache.

“Well, you know now.” His pout lasted only a few seconds. He opened the door to the cabinet where she stored dishes. “You got anything to drink in this house?”

“I could make some coffee.” She wondered how he’d feel after she hurled a carafe of scalding liquid into his face. It might provide enough time for her to fly down the stairs and out the front door. She’d scream until she roused her neighbors.

“Don’t you have anything stronger?”

She shook her head. “Sorry.” She made it sound as if she were disappointed they couldn’t share a drink.

He frowned. “I didn’t figure you for the hard stuff.” He pulled open another door. “Got any wine?”

A few ago, before this whole hellish nightmare, she’d kept a bottle of Chardonnay in a cupboard. She and Michaela had killed it while they’d lamented…what? Probably nothing more important than Michaela’s breakup with her latest boyfriend. If only she had that bottle now to crack over Jimmy’s head. Her mind spun like a whirligig in ten different directions, trying to latch onto which heavy object was close at hand. The toaster was within reach, but he’d stop her before she yanked the cord from the socket. A plastic bucket held cooking utensils, but mostly spatulas and wooden spoons. She needed to try something else.

“Why don’t we go somewhere for a drink.” She forced a smile and feigned enthusiasm. “We could get something to eat, too. Are you hungry? I am. I’ll treat.”

He moved around the kitchen, restless, pulled a chair away from the table but didn’t sit down. “Nah.”

She had to distract him, keep him talking and play on his newfound pride, a man in full control.

“Until now, I hadn’t realized you were so much smarter than Dave. You stayed away from the fashion show. He went, and now he’s in jail.” Although she had no idea if the police had apprehended Dave, she spoke with enough conviction to almost convince herself. Now, she had to make the notion of Jimmy’s superiority real for him.

“Well, they ain’t gonna find me.” His eyes darkened. “And you sure ain’t gonna turn me in.”

“Of course I’m not. The police are certain you haven’t done anything wrong. They just wanted to talk to you about Dave. I’m sure they’d appreciate all your help. I can give you some money, and after you clear things up, you can go wherever you want.”

“Where I want to be right now is here with you, Allie. It’s what I always dreamed about. You were always so nice to me. I know you liked me. So what if you’re older. I’ve been with older women before.”

“Jimmy, you don’t want trouble.” The words spilled from Allie’s lips. “Let me give you some money, enough for a room for a few nights at the motel just down the highway. I’ll help you look for a job. Isn’t that what you wanted, to live again in San Francisco?”

“Dave said he’d make it happen, but lookie here,” he said as if he’d paid no attention to her offer. “He’s in jail and I’m in charge.”

Two or three years before, she would never have thought of him wanting to hurt her. Now, she was terrified of him. She fought to keep her composure, and sidestepped around him.

“I’d better clean up this mess.” She indicated the broken crockery and pool of water. “There’s a broom and dustbin in the closet.”

She’d converted the original bedroom closet into a utility space to also hold towels, extra dishes and cooking pots. One was a heavy Club Aluminum her grandmother had used to cook stew. If Allie could get her hands on it. Otherwise, the broom might become an adequate weapon when he made his first move.

“You know something, Allie, I thought about you a lot when I lived in Seattle. I missed you. Now I’m glad I came back.” He pulled a length of nylon cord from his back pocket. “Dave thought he was going to orchestrate this party. Can you imagine, he used that word, ‘orchestrate’. But he ain’t gonna
orchestrate
nothing. It’s just you and me, Allie.”

Jimmy laughed and pushed her back against the wall, hard enough to knock the breath from her. Quickly, he coiled the rope around her wrists and knotted it.

“You’re gonna be my first solo.”

Chapter Forty-Two

A different squad car, but this time, Ben helmed the wheel. Two additional uniformed policemen followed him and Thompson in a patrol car. Ben broke every speed limit, red light and full-stop intersection rule and kept the black & white’s roof lights flashing. San Franciscans, for the most part, were concerned and informed citizens. When they saw the flashers, they cleared a path. He had deliberately silenced the siren. If Jimmy suspected cops were on their way to Allie’s, and he became spooked, he was liable to do something dangerous and stupid. Allie would pay for any missteps.

The early Friday morning traffic in the Sunset District was thin, and he mashed down hard on the gas pedal. His hands strangled the steering wheel. Mounting dread built in his stomach like a frenzied machine spitting out three-inch nails.

The moment he approached Allie’s corner, he killed the flashers and switched from bright to dim lights. He slowed his speed. From across the Great Highway the steady pounding of the surf cut into the vacuum left by the lack of late night traffic. Ben pulled to the curb five doors down from Allie’s house and cut the motor and the lights. The second squad pulled up behind Ben’s car.

Ben and Thompson met the two uniforms on the sidewalk, and he briefed them more fully on the situation with Jimmy. Apparently, Jimmy had assumed Dave’s role of serial killer. No one knew yet if Jimmy had drifted to the dark side on his own or had embraced it while under Dave’s sway. Tonight, it didn’t matter. What Jimmy had become put Allie’s life in jeopardy.