Point of Betrayal (16 page)

“I love Doritos,” she murmured.

If anyone ever asked, she could now prove that she’d been in California, that there was no way she could have been pushing a woman off a balcony in Phoenix at nine p.m. It was physically impossible for her to be in two cities at the same time, and by the time anyone would think to question her, the store videotapes would probably be erased.

She carefully slid the receipt in her wallet, noticing for the first time in six hours that her heart had stopped pounding. She’d thrown up twice already and nearly toppled the Harley outside Quartzite when she started to cry, but she’d regained more and more control as the mile markers descended and she’d ridden closer to the California border.

She hopped on the bike and blasted Springsteen through her earbuds for the last part of the ride, refusing to think about anything except making love to Ari. It was easy to forget the darkness of the last six hours when she pictured the two of them in Ari’s new Jacuzzi tub, the jets massaging their bodies while they kissed and cuddled.

She went out of her way to Costa Mesa and found an all-night motel. She doubted the sleepy-eyed clerk would ever remember her or the fake name she used in the event anyone ever investigated the story she planned to tell Ari—that she’d spent the night on the beach.

The place looked relatively clean. She fell onto the bed, her last ounce of energy depleted. It had been the most emotional day of her life. She could still hear the three tiny gasps that had slipped from Wanda’s lips. She was too inebriated and too surprised to scream, but in a cruel twist of fate Biz deserved, she’d spiraled and stared at her for the four-story drop. She doubted she’d ever forget the look of confused terror on her face.

She’d made three mistakes and she couldn’t stop beating herself up for them. She’d staged crime scenes before. She’d lost track of the number of deadbeat dads she’d set up, and she knew how the police operated. She’d never been questioned because she was
good
.

But she’d never killed anyone.

She’d been so careful with the setup. She’d run into Wanda at the gym and they’d spoken for less than thirty seconds. She’d agreed to her terms and told her she would bring the money to her apartment at eight thirty, when the weeknight parties would be in full swing and darkness would disguise her as she moved through the complex.

Wanda had answered the door carrying a highball. When she saw Biz in tight jeans, her black leather jacket over a white Western shirt with no sleeves and her black bra peeking through, she immediately asked her to stay for a little party, pouring vodka tonics for herself and Biz and willingly shared her coke stash. After a drink and a line, Biz found the courage to do what needed to be done. They made out for a while, and she was careful about what DNA she transferred. After Wanda downed four vodkas and was ready to head to the bedroom, she suggested they go to the patio and toke up first.

Marijuana had never affected her, but by the time they finished the joint, Wanda was lightheaded and off guard. When they stood to go inside, Biz moved behind her and caressed her breasts. For a split second she lost her nerve—until she noticed a black Escalade parked in the deserted alley behind the apartments. She had no choice. Her hands slid to the center of Wanda’s back and she planted her feet in a football stance. Then Wanda was gone, hurtling over the balcony, drink still in her hand, wearing an expression of complete surprise and betrayal. Biz had gazed at her lifeless body on the pavement and nearly vomited.

Then she’d made the mistakes. She put on her leather gloves and pulled the railing back into place. Mistake one.

Then she’d rushed into the living room determined to erase the evidence of her visit in the fastest way possible, worried that the Escalade might be waiting for
her.
She’d grabbed her empty highball glass and stuffed it in the pocket of her jacket. Mistake number two. The police could count, and if someone like Jack Adams were assigned to the case, she imagined a missing glass would bother him endlessly.

The last mistake was the dumbest. She’d rubbed the wet coaster across her leather sleeve and put it back in the coaster holder without completely drying it. Hopefully no one would notice and by the time someone thought of it the tiny droplets of moisture would be gone. But a smart tech or a detective like Jack…

She rubbed her eyes. She was crashing but she wasn’t tired. She needed sleep but the adrenaline rush from committing murder, the cocaine high and the long bike ride made it impossible. She’d need a little help as usual. She reached into her knapsack and found the familiar pill bottle. Dr. Nasab understood. She’d been abused for years by her tyrannical Iraqi husband—who was now being deported thanks to Biz. In return Dr. Nasab freely prescribed pills to help her through long stakeouts or gain the needed rest that often eluded her. She popped a few of the red and blue pills into her mouth and closed her eyes. She would be with Ari in a few hours and everything would be better. They were about to start their life together, and Ari would save her soul.

During Nina’s funeral at the Shepherd by the Sea Church, Ari, Jane and Rory each sat by a different set of suspects, having spent most of the past evening matching characters with real people. They’d analyzed and cross-referenced Nina’s journal entries until they were rather certain who was who, but they were still no closer to finding the killer or killers since there seemed to be plenty of people with motives.

At one point in the evening Biz had texted that she might get to Laguna by morning, much to Ari’s disappointment. She could’ve used some help with Rory and Jane, who had endlessly volleyed barbs and vocabulary puns. When she had finally retreated to her bedroom, they were starting another Bananagrams game with a bottle of Boone’s Farm next to Rory.

She looked around the full sanctuary. Still no sign of Biz. Nina’s neighbors, Bonnie and Fred Cahill, sat directly in front of her. Last night they had concluded that Adriana, the spurned wife, was in fact Bonnie and that her cheating husband Fred wore the accurate moniker of Frederick. They had indeed lost a daughter, although Rory had never known the exact cause until Nina mentioned bulimia in her journal. Rory recalled a few weeks before Nina died, she had asked her about Fred, a man who freely shared his extramarital exploits around the pool house. Since Rory had heard about the cheating, she became Hotspur in the journal entries. Jane had thought it was such a wonderful nickname she’d addressed her as such for the rest of the night.

Ari doubted infidelity would lead to murder unless there were some other facts still waiting to be uncovered. Nina had mentioned in one of the final entries that “Frederick’s inheritance was vulnerable,” and she knew that a sizeable inheritance split in half during a divorce proceeding could be a motive if a prenuptial agreement wasn’t in place.

She craned her neck and noticed Jane sitting between Evan and Sam, who was having a difficult time holding his emotions together. He was supposed to read a scripture, and she wondered if he’d be able to make it through without breaking down. Both Steve and Georgie looked perfectly stoic and somber in deference to the occasion. Next to Steve was a handsome gentleman who whispered to him several times; she wondered if he was a relative.

Rory had surmised the Garritsons were portrayed in the journals as Orlando, Cesario, Benedick, Valeria and Horatio. If, in fact, Nina was one of the characters, then the other four Garritsons completed the list, one of whom could be a murderer. Something had happened in the summer that triggered Nina’s entries in the journal, followed by a secret that may have led to her murder. Someone was hiding something in the Garritson family, although Sam had maintained they were boring and free of scandal.

She gazed at the row of Garritsons again. The character Aguecheek only appeared in the last entry of the completed journal. She pulled it from her large bag and reread it again. “Valeria caught in secrets thanks to apothecary. Share with no one except H. Maybe Orlando? Must investigate! Can Benedick be trusted? Will it destroy? Cesario, oh, Cesario… It is Aguecheek.”

She realized that if the handsome man next to Steve Garritson were added to the character count, there were enough people to create the scenario in Nina’s journal, assuming she was either Valeria or, as Rory had mentioned, Cesario. Whoever the man was, he was close enough to warrant a seat in the Garritson pew at the funeral, so perhaps he was important enough to be a character in the journal.

Rory had planted herself behind Michaela and her mother Eden. Bobby Arco was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t surprised, considering the threats he’d leveled against Nina at the school. Ari had tried to stay out of Eden’s line of sight, knowing she would be suspicious after their confrontation at the auto shop. Eden and Michaela’s attention, though, was focused on the altar and the portrait of Nina that stared at the crowd. Michaela looked terribly forlorn and her mother whispered in her ear and squeezed her shoulder.
Poor kid
, she thought.

More than likely the Edmund in Nina’s journal was Bobby Arco and Emilia was Eden. In a cruel twist of symbolism, Rory deduced that Caliban, the pathetic creature from
The Tempest
, was in fact Michaela and that Nina had cast herself as Katherine, a strong Shakespearean female who protected Caliban.

“I’ve got my money on Bobby Arco,” Rory had said the night before. “He’s got a horrible temper, he works near Crescent Point and it’s obvious Nina is afraid of him.”

It was true that the strongest wordings in Nina’s journal were reserved for the Edmund, Emilia and Caliban story. Perhaps Bobby Arco’s absence from the funeral was motivated by guilt, not anger.

The first row, traditionally for family members, held only Nina’s aunt and a distant cousin. Both of her parents were dead and she’d been an only child. Ari understood that pain.

Standing in the back was Detective Clay Justice. He caught her eye and nodded. She nodded in return and leaned forward in the pew, in the hopes of overhearing the Cahills, who were already sniping at each other in whispered tones. Their facial expressions and body language suggested they couldn’t stand each other, and when Fred Cahill checked his watch and sighed, she guessed he was present only because his wife had forced him to go or because his absence would be noticed.

The ceremony lasted an hour as several colleagues and friends offered remembrances, sang songs and read poems in Nina’s honor. When Sam approached the lectern, his hands shook and he started to sob. Evan ran to his aid, but his voice quivered throughout the Psalms scripture. Ari’s gaze darted among the suspects. Eden wiped tears from her face, Bonnie Cahill dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and Steve Garritson stared at the floor while Georgie put a hand to her mouth, obviously channeling the pain of her children. Only Fred Cahill showed no reaction.

After the pastor offered a prayer, the recessional began. As the rows of guests snaked outside, Eden and Michaela quickly headed toward the street, holding hands. They were evidently walking home without saying a word to anyone. Ari motioned Rory to join her.

“Did you notice anything?”

Rory shook her head. “No, the little girl was terribly upset and her mom just kept talking about how the angels would take care of Miss Hunter in heaven. It made me cry. I don’t think she had anything to do with this, but I think the boyfriend is guilty as hell,” she quickly added.

“Come with me,” Ari said. “I want you to introduce me to the Cahills.”

Bonnie and Fred Cahill apparently had rushed to the buffet luncheon. While dozens of people milled about, they were two of only a few people who actually held a plate full of food.

“It’s such a shame,” Bonnie said between bites. “I can’t believe they haven’t found her killer. Maybe he’s actually here,” she whispered.

Fred harrumphed and rolled his eyes. “You watch way too much
Law and Order
. Besides I heard they’re getting close to arresting Sam Garritson.”

“Where did you hear that?” Ari asked.

Fred licked potato salad off two fingers before he said, “Friend of mine in the department. Apparently when she went over the railing, Nina ripped off part of a shirt.”

Rory crossed her arms. “What kind of fabric was it?”

“Don’t know, but you can get DNA off stuff.”

“And you think
I
watch too much
Law and Order
?” Bonnie snorted. “You’re full of crap, Fred.”

“It’s true, B,” he insisted. “If she ripped off part of his shirt, she might’ve grabbed some chest hair too.”

“Did you speak with Detective Justice?” Ari asked. The Cahills stopped bantering and stared at her. “I mean, did all of the neighbors get questioned?”

“Not everyone, just the people in her list of contacts. Since I’ve been visiting with her each week, they asked us where we were on the night of the murder. It was just like on TV.”

“And where were you?” Rory laughed, as if the inquiry were nothing more than a joke.

“Well, I was working late, and Fred was out at the bar with his friends.” She patted his shoulder playfully. “Since he wasn’t one of Nina’s favorite people, I’m grateful he’s got an alibi.”

“You’re the one who was in cahoots with her. She was trying to get you to leave me. Damn cunt,” he said quietly.

“Excuse me?” Rory asked, stepping into his personal space.

“I don’t have to talk to any of you,” he growled and stomped off.

Looking quite embarrassed, Bonnie said, “I’m so sorry,” and left too.

Jane joined them and watched the Cahills’ shouting match escalate as they got into their car.

Rory glared in their direction. “Okay, I’m going to add Fred Cahill to the prick category. I wish he and Bobby Arco had done it together. I’d love to see ’em both fry.”

“Don’t you mean be lethally injected?” Jane corrected. “I thought California didn’t use the electric chair.”

“How unfortunate,” Rory murmured. “Whoever killed Nina deserves to suffer.”

“I agree.”

Rory faced her. “So we actually
agree
on something
?
”