Just Evil (28 page)

Jake threw his hands in the air. “You guys never change.
What exactly passes for an actual investigation where you come from? She has an
alibi for the night Jessica died. She willingly offers you the gold cowboy she
found at the store. As I see it, you should be protecting Kit from whoever’s
out there killing women, not harassing her.” 

Kit was convinced that the only thing that kept the two men
from going after each other right there in her living room was the ringing of
St. John’s cell phone.

She watched as St. John excused himself from the living room
and headed off to the neutral corner of the entryway. The other three waited
without talking as they caught only muffled parts of St. John’s conversation.

When he hung up, he looked at Holloway and said, “There’s
been a development. Jessica Boyd’s sister, Eva Geller Gatz, one of the partners
at the law firm, is missing. Has been since around lunchtime. They found her
car abandoned at some rundown strip shopping center in the Hollywood Hills.
There was blood on the front seat.”

“Missing since noon? If this one turns up dead too, that’s
another murder you won’t be able to pin on Kit. She for goddamned sure wasn’t
in Hollywood this afternoon. Sorry to disappoint you, but she’s been with
me...all afternoon.”

The two men glared at each other for several heated seconds
before Holloway walked past Jake, grabbed his partner’s arm and moved him in
the direction of the front door.

Reluctantly, St. John went.

When the two cops were finally gone, Jake turned to her with
such intensity she thought he might hit something.

“That man’s no different than when he investigated Claire’s
murder. He’s looking in the wrong fucking direction, focused on the wrong
person...again. The Gatz woman turns up missing;  if you ask me, that’s another
link to the law firm, and St. John is too goddamned stubborn to admit the
connection. Did it ever occur to him that all three of these murders have been
women, older women, somehow connected to BBG&G? Why is that?”

Of course there was a connection, but with everything
happening, she’d shut that part off. But when she saw the look on Jake’s face,
saw his jaw lock in place, something inside her melted.

Knowing he needed to calm down, she softly said, “Jake,
don’t think about it anymore. If they arrest me, if it happens, I’ll deal with
it. I’ll call that lawyer, that friend of yours, and let him handle everything.
We’re not going to worry about this anymore now.”

“Like hell we won’t. That man is not going to do to you what
he did to me. That SOB made my life a living hell for a year. Since St. John
doesn’t seem to want to do any real police work, can’t seem to focus on any
suspect other than you, we need to find him another suspect, someone that takes
the heat off you. Knowing Alana, the suspect list should be longer than the
Bible. So we start looking into Alana’s past, hand St. John some other
possibilities.” He walked over to Kit’s desk, opened her laptop, and booted it
up. “It’s time to do a little searching and investigating on our own.”

For the next hour, Jake put his hacker skills to work. He
started his search with a public records database, specifically marriages.
Something Kit had said to the detectives about Alana’s marriages had him
curious. Had Alana actually been married only three times? It was common
knowledge she went through men like water through a sieve. He’d seen it for
himself. And besides, he had a hunch. He’d learned a long time ago that when
you have a hunch you simply run with it until you hit a brick wall.

Searching public records, he got five hits. Like every other
aspect of her life, Alana Stevens had not been entirely truthful about her
marriages. No surprise there. But the additional divorce information he wanted
took less time to find than her marriages. And it was as he’d feared. The
divorce information had been there all along for anyone to find if they had
bothered looking. And in the end, the information was one more revelation that
Kit would have to deal with. After hitting the print button, he looked up from
the laptop only to realize she’d left the room.

He found her in the kitchen clearing away the dishes. And
her face told him she suspected something was up.

“What did you find?”

“Listen to me, Kit. What I found is all about Alana. It has
nothing to do with what kind of a person you are. I mean, it was Alana’s life,
her mess, her lies.”

He handed her the computer printouts, one listing Alana’s
five marriages, the other listing her five divorces. He watched her study the
names, the dates, look from one printout to the other, until finally she said,
“This can’t be right, Jake.”

“The information came directly from public records, Kit. You
yourself said that Holloway should get the info from public records. That’s
what made me think to do just that.” He tugged on the piece of paper she held
in her hands. “This is it.”

“But this doesn’t list a marriage to John Griffin or a
divorce from him, either. That can’t be right. There’s no mention of my father
here. And none of these dates fit the right timeframe for when I was born.
According to these records, Alana wasn’t married to anyone when I was born.”

Jake nodded. “And if there was never a marriage, there was
no contentious divorce.”

 “How can that be? They both told me time and time again
they’d been married and divorced. Why lie about that?”

“They obviously wanted you to believe it.” 

“Because they weren’t married when I was born, is that it?
Keep the information from the child for the benefit of the child. Does that
sound like Alana to you? I’m not surprised she didn’t tell me the truth, but
what about him? He lied to me. The father I trusted never told me the truth.”

“I’m sorry, Kit.”

“Okay, they kept that from me. My parents weren’t married,
big deal. But it does explain a lot about their private war. Maybe I was the
result of a one-night stand or maybe a rape, something that happened at one of
their decadent Hollywood parties and that’s why Alana never liked him or me.
Every time she looked at me I was a reminder of that night or that party or
something horrible.” When she saw the skeptical look on his face, she added,
“Well, think about it. She certainly didn’t like him, and I know she didn’t
like me. That much was genuine. Something bad had to have happened between the
two of them.”

Jake didn’t want to speculate, so he switched to the
computer printout, to the facts. “This says she was married three times before
you were ever born, the first time in 1967 to a William Forrester, an
environmental engineer, of all things. Can you see Alana married to any kind of
an engineer? He listed his place of employment as McKetrick Construction. Talk
about opposites, and they divorce after only a few months of marriage.”

Reading from the list, Kit added, “Her second marriage to
Robert Carlton, a real estate developer, lasts a little longer. Now that’s more
her style: a developer, a rich guy with money. They were divorced two years
later.”

“And look at lucky number three. Frank Geller. Jessica’s
brother. There’s a surprise.”

“Oh. I was almost related to the Boyds by association or
something. It’s a good thing that marriage took place before I came along.
Again though, it didn’t last long. Years go by before she marries again. I was
five years old when she marries number four, Anthony Tunicelli, from Las
Vegas.” 

“And then, there’s husband number five. Four years ago, she
marries one of her real estate agents, Scott Barlow, fifteen years her junior.
Maybe he’s our suspect. The other day when I went through some of the paperwork
you dropped off, it was apparent Alana was taking an extra cut from her agents
on top of her regular commission. That might not sound like much, but when you
consider all the commercial real estate she handled, she took in a lot of money
under the table from her agents. Maybe this guy this, Scott Barlow, got tired
of paying an extra cut and killed her.”

“Okay, that might explain Alana’s murder. But Jake, what
possible connection would her real estate agents, including this Scott Barlow,
have with Jessica or Eva Gatz? And then there are those three gold cowboys, two
of which were with Alana and Jessica. Why would Scott Barlow kill Jessica?”

“I wished you’d told me that you found that gold cowboy at
the store. I’d say the killer’s been to the Book & Bean.”

That was creepy. She thought of that strange man who’d been
in the store the other day, but then remembered she’d found the cowboy earlier
before he’d even showed up that afternoon.

Jake looked at Kit. “There’s no suspect here, is there?”

Kit shook her head. “Doesn’t look like it. But I still
haven’t recovered from knowing they lied to me, Jake, about their marriage. Do
you think Gloria knew? We need to ask Gloria about all of this.” She
immediately got up from the table and walked to the phone but then remembered
it didn’t work. She reached for her cell. Jake put his hand on hers before she
could dial.  

“Baby, it’s late.” He pushed her hair off her shoulders to
give him better access and nibbled her neck while his hands encircled her
breasts, his fingers found their points until she moaned.

“We’ll ask Gloria whatever you want to ask, just tomorrow;
let’s ask tomorrow.” He knew if she found out something bad from Gloria, she
wouldn’t sleep a wink. So he tried to distract her.

She let him graze on her neck, let his fingers work the
magic before melding her body to his. She gave in with a sigh. “You’re right.
It’s late; let’s go to bed.”

With L.A. traffic in typical gridlock, it took St. John and
Holloway two hours to make the drive from San Madrid to the Hollywood Hills.
The Gatz car had been found parked near an abandoned strip shopping center.

By the time they arrived, a patrolman had discovered the
body of Eva Geller Gatz some two hundred yards from her Jaguar. She’d been shot
in the left temple, just like Jessica, this time with a .38.

Sometime later, it was another detective who pointed out a
shiny gold trinket left on the passenger seat of her car. The trinket depicted a
cowboy riding off into the sunset.

The questions came like the opening of a floodgate. Why had
the killer brought Eva Gatz to a rundown storefront in the Hollywood Hills? And
once here, how had he left the area?

It was St John who had trouble defending his position.
“Okay, the Boyd woman was shot, just like this one. I know what you’re
thinking. Kit Griffin has an alibi for Jessica Boyd and the Gatz woman. She
still could have filleted her own mother. The two didn’t get along and she
inherits everything. Despite the gold cowboys he’s left behind, tell me, if
it’s the same killer, why shoot the Boyd woman and now Gatz but stab Alana
Stevens twenty-one times with a knife? We have different murder weapons. It’s
just too early for me to merge the three together. I’m still convinced Kit
Griffin killed her mother. I agree that the same killer killed the Boyd woman
and now Gatz. But we don’t try to link these two with the Stevens murder.”

But Holloway was unconvinced. “I might buy that if I could
discount the three gold cowboys. And the gold thing was stuffed down Alana’s
throat. Maybe the killer had cause to hate her a little more than he did
Jessica and Eva. And come on, Max, you can’t tell me you don’t see the look in
Kit Griffin’s eyes every time we talk to her about her mother. That distant,
unemotional tone isn’t an act. It’s like she goes someplace else so she can
deal with anything that has to do with her mother.”

When St. John made no comment he went on, “The gold trinkets
show up with each murder victim. And now we find out that maybe the killer left
one of these gold things at her store. Why would he do that unless he put it
there specifically so we’d know she didn’t do it? Did you consider that? Sounds
crazy, I know, but maybe we’re dealing with a psycho. What’s the significance
of these cowboys? The killer’s leaving something of himself with each victim.
You know Kit Griffin’s father was a cowboy actor. I checked. Maybe he isn’t
dead at all. My vote is we start from scratch and find out what happened to
John Griffin, the cowboy star.”

Reluctantly, St. John agreed, but added, “I’m not ready to
discount the fact that Kit Griffin had motive in her mother’s murder. The
inheritance is motive. And she’s hanging out with Jake Boston. We just may have
to dig a little deeper to find what we need.”

She heard the loud rock music blaring from inside the car
first before she watched the Mercedes make the sharp turn onto that familiar
gravel driveway and drive past a sign with faded orange lettering that read, The
Sundown Ranch. Even in the dark, she saw the car pull up to the weathered
farmhouse—and knew what was about to happen to the old couple sleeping inside.

There was something familiar about the two people who got
out of the car, something in the way they swaggered along the path, past blooming
coreopsis heavy with blossoms, past fragrant lilacs, and brilliant red hyacinth
that lined the foot path up to the front porch. She watched as they walked past
two rocking chairs that sat empty, gently swaying in the hot night breeze.

One of them took out a key to the front door. The old
couple had trusted them enough to give them a key to their house.

Inside the living room, family pictures lined the walls.
She moved with the killers along the wall, looking at the old wedding
photographs first, then at the baby pictures of a young boy with doting
parents. As the boy grew, there were pictures of him smiling, sitting on top of
a horse.

There were school photographs; more photos of the same
boy, gapped-tooth, holding a bat in his baseball uniform, and then finally, one
of a solemn young man in his soldier’s uniform.  In slow motion the scene moved
into a neat, tidy, and old-fashioned kitchen. But they were messing up the
order of the place, going through drawers, pulling everything out, leaving
clutter behind in their wake.