Sweet Poison (33 page)

Jane wished she would stop saying that. Cordelia had suffered a “breakdownette,” as she called it, after Hattie was whisked off to England a year ago. And now, for some reason, she’d developed this idea, little by little, that Hattie would be back soon. Jane didn’t want to burst her bubble, especially tonight, but this was something they needed to talk about. She also didn’t want her best friend to suffer another huge crash if it could be prevented, especially if she was away in China with Kenzie when the crash occurred.

Kenzie, for her part, seemed exceptionally buoyant as she carried around the wine bottles, filling up glasses. She and Jane still hadn’t talked about any of their problems, but Jane figured they had the rest of their lives to do that.

After stopping by the campaign office yesterday, Kenzie had been quiet on the ride home. Jane began to worry that they were in for another tense evening. But after Cordelia had arrived with her Halloween trunk, Kenzie’s dark mood lifted. Still, she had made one thing quite clear. She didn’t like Jane getting herself mixed up in other people’s problems, especially criminal matters.

And so when the phone rang just before eleven and Jane heard Norm Toscalia’s voice on the other end of the line, she took the cordless from the kitchen and went immediately into her study, closing the door behind her.

“You still up?” asked Norm.

“Sure am. What did you find out?” She perched on the edge of the desk. “First tell me about Corey.”

“They brought him in on Wednesday morning for questioning. Apparently, they’ve had a tail on him for the last week, but he lost the
guy after he left the police station. They found him again when he returned to his aunt’s house that night, but then, after he left there yesterday, somehow or other he lost the guy again. They don’t know where he is at the moment. They think he may have abducted his kid after school yesterday. A boy, eight years old. From what I understand, his girlfriend was pregnant before he entered prison. But she never told him about the kid. Sounds like a bad situation.”

“Lord, I had no idea,” said Jane. She wondered if Mary knew. “Is he still the main suspect in Charity’s murder?”

“He was. They found semen on Charity’s clothes that matched his DNA.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah, I know. The police were ready to arrest him. But then something happened in the second interview. Nobody’s talking about it, but it was significant.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Well, don’t take all of this as absolute gospel. It’s second-or third-hand. But I trust these people. Of course, there are still plenty of cops who think he did it. Just not the primary on the case, Tom Emerson.”

“So if Corey didn’t do it, that means somebody else tried to make it look like he did—used the taser, the duct tape, the lipstick to write the word
justice
on her stomach.”

“Her death was probably unintentional. I suppose it could be considered manslaughter.”

“What about Gabriel Keen?”

“Yeah, they looked at him pretty hard initially. Charity’s parents were sure he was responsible. But he produced an airtight alibi. His dad and stepmom said he was home the entire night, that they were watching a movie together.”

“I’d hardly call that airtight.”

“Okay, but it’s enough to tie the cops’ hands. Without some hard evidence, they can’t get a search warrant for the house. Not that Keen would be stupid enough to keep the evidence around. On the other hand, he did last time.”

“You mean when he assaulted Christopher Cornish. But he was never charged for that.”

“It was a bad search. Keen’s parents wanted Ray to represent him, but Elizabeth took it. She got wind of the search right away and was able to get the evidence ruled inadmissible. Without the bat, the police had diddly. They had no way to charge him.”

“Are you saying Elizabeth represented Gabriel Keen?”

“His father’s wealthy and can buy the best. In this town, that’s Lawless, Kaplan & Piper.”

Jane grew silent.

“Are you still there?”

“What else do you know?”

“Just that Keen apparently took a polygraph. He passed. Doesn’t mean he didn’t do it, but he’s been willing to jump through every hoop the cops have presented him with. No fight about giving a DNA sample. He made himself available anytime they wanted to talk to him. And he never asked for a lawyer. He’s been nothing but Mr. Cooperative. That’s it. I’ll keep my ear to the ground. If I hear anything else, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Norm. This helps a lot.”

“For your dad’s sake, I wish they’d make an arrest—and that it wasn’t Hodge.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“On Election Day, just remember what Al Capone said. Vote early and often.”

She laughed. “I’ll remember that.”

After saying good-bye, she got up off the edge of her desk and sat down in her chair to think.

When Cordelia burst in a few minutes later, she’d put it together.

“Why are you hiding in here?”

“I’m not hiding,” said Jane. “I’m thinking.”

“Can’t you think out in the living room with the rest of us?” She adjusted her wig, pulling several strands of the silver locks over her shoulders. “This thing makes me wish I hadn’t cut my hair. Maybe I’ll grow it
out.” Hands on her hips, she added, “Okay, tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“That was Norm on the phone.”

“And?”

There was so much to tell her. She explained first about the AMBER Alert, that Corey had a son. She let Cordelia rant about parental issues for a minute or two, then moved on. “It seems my dad’s law firm represented Gabriel Keen when he was accused of attacking Christopher Cornish.”

“Are you sure? How could your father do that?”

“Technically, Elizabeth represented him.”

“But it was a hate crime. Perry Mason’s girlfriend doesn’t represent sickos who commit hate crimes.”

“Maybe
Perry’s
girlfriend doesn’t, but my dad’s law firm did. Do you remember hearing anything about it last spring?”

“I feel terrible, Janey. I’ve signed petitions to put more teeth into hate crime laws, written my senators—and I never usually do things like that—even been to the capitol in St. Paul a couple times for rallies.”

“I know. I was with you.”

“You were?”

“I’m glad my presence is so memorable.”

Cordelia patted Jane’s knee. “You’re very memorable. But what happened to Cornish, that escaped me.”

“Probably because Keen was never charged. If it made the papers at all, it was buried on the back page.”

“I certainly missed it. Hey, you know why we missed it?”

“Why?”

“When was he attacked?”

“Late April.”

“That’s exactly when you and your family were having that horrible minicollapse. And I, friend that I am, was right there with you. None of us were tracking very well right around then.”

She had a point. “I still feel guilty for not knowing about it.”

“Fine. Feel guilty. It’s part of a venerable liberal tradition.”

“I haven’t told you the latest. Julia came over yesterday—”

“Julia!”

“She’s been donating some of her time to my dad’s campaign.” Jane went on to explain why she’d come.

“You think Luke’s been the cause of all the campaign’s Internet havoc?”

“It’s possible.”

Cordelia considered if for a few seconds. “Not to change the subject, but was Kenzie here when Julia showed up?”

“Kenzie? What’s she got to do with anything?”

“Answer my question.”

“Sure, she was here.”

“That explains it. She dragged me into your kitchen last night while we were decorating.”

“Where was I?”

“Out in the garage looking for a ladder. She wanted to know what I thought of Julia. I told her that she was a manipulative bitch. A beautiful, devious, calculating narcissist.”

“Gee, why don’t you say what you really think?”

“Kenzie asked if there was a possibility you were still in love with her.”

“And you said?”

“Heavens, no.”

“Did she believe you?”

“My lips speak only the truth. Everyone knows that.”

The last thing on earth Kenzie needed to worry about was Julia. “Can we get back to the subject?” asked Jane.

“What subject? Oh, Luke.”

Kenzie appeared in the doorway. “Hey, I was looking for you two. What are you doing in here? Plotting someone’s demise?” Her cheeks were rosy from the wine. She held a glass in one hand, tugged at her grim reaper outfit with the other.

“We’re solving a crime,” said Cordelia.

Kenzie’s smile faded. “What crime?”

“Who’s been behind the Internet chaos at Ray’s campaign.”

“And who was?”

“I think Julia was right,” said Jane. Moving her attention back to Cordelia, she said, “Christopher Cornish is Luke’s partner.”

Cordelia’s eyes popped. “Luke’s gay? What’s wrong with my gaydar?”

“See, that’s just it. Luke must hate my father for representing Keen. And frankly, I don’t blame him.” She knew Kenzie didn’t understand a word she was saying, but she wanted to make her points with Cordelia first and explain later. For the moment, Kenzie watched stonily from the doorway.

“Your dad didn’t represent Keen. Elizabeth did.”

“That’s a fine point that wouldn’t matter to me. I doubt it mattered to him. He must hate me, too. I mean, why didn’t I stop my father—or Elizabeth—from representing Keen?”

“Because your father’s law office doesn’t consult you before they take on a client.”

“Another fine point.”

“So how do you prove it?”

Jane shook her head. “No idea. But I better call Maria Rios and tell her my suspicions. She can decide what to do from there. Give me a few minutes, okay?” She looked from face to face.

“Take all the time you want,” said Kenzie, pushing away from the doorway. “Take the rest of the night.”

After she’d drifted away, Cordelia said, “I could be wrong, dearheart, but I think you have one hell of a pissed-off girlfriend.”

By midnight, everyone had left, with the exception of Cordelia and Melanie.

Kenzie had taken off her costume. Wearing jeans and an old sweatshirt, she spent the shank of the evening ignoring Jane while drinking too much wine.

“Well, I suppose it’s time we clean up,” said Melanie, punctuating her statement with an Elvis Presley pelvic shake. She began carrying dishes out of the living room.

Cordelia turned her back to Kenzie, raised her eyebrows at Jane, picked up a few more dishes and followed.

Now that they were alone, Jane wasn’t sure what to say. “Are we okay?” she asked.

Kenzie was sitting by the front windows, playing with Mel’s new dog. “Right as rain.” She smiled, but it was a mirthless smile, even a little resentful.

“If that’s the case, why haven’t you said a word to me in the last hour?”

Kenzie shrugged. “Lack of perspective?” She lifted the dog down from her lap. “I’m tired. I gotta run out to my truck and get something and then I’m going to hit the sack.” Stretching her legs, she stood.

“We need to talk.”

“I talk, Lawless. I talk all the time. You just never listen.”

She passed Cordelia on her way to the front hall.

As she disappeared outside, Cordelia caught Jane’s eye. “What’s the deal?”

“It’s not good.”

“But why? What did you do that was so awful?”

“Not now.” Jane was afraid that they were on the verge of falling apart again. She kept hoping there was a way around it, or through it, or over it. They just had to find the right path.

For the next few minutes, everyone carried dirty dishes into the kitchen.

“What’s she doing out there?” asked Cordelia, pulling a black plastic garbage sack around the dining room, tossing in paper napkins, drooping streamers, paper plates.

“Maybe she just needed some air,” called Melanie from the kitchen. She was loading the dishwasher.

“I should go talk to her,” said Jane. She took off her hat and chef’s coat and set them on the table.

“Wear a jacket,” said Cordelia. “It’s cold out.”

Jane pulled her jeans jacket from the front hall closet. She took an
old leather coat for Kenzie. Pushing out the door, she stood on the steps for a few seconds, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.

“Kenzie?” she called, trotting out to the truck. But the cab was empty. “Come on, give me a break. Let me explain.” She wondered if Kenzie had gone for a walk, but remembered that she had on a pair of floppy slippers and couldn’t have gotten far.

“Sweetheart, please. Where are you?”

Thinking that she might have walked around to the back of the house to the screened porch, Jane headed for the driveway. Her patience was just about gone.

“You know, this is a little adolescent. Why don’t we cut the drama—” Hearing an unmistakable groan, she froze. She wasn’t sure where it had come from. “Kenzie?”

There it was again. She rushed toward the pine tree in the front yard. “Oh my God,” she said, finding Kenzie lying on her back, flat on the ground. Her arms were pinned behind her, her sweatshirt pulled up. The word
justice
had been scrawled on her stomach in red lipstick.

Jane’s knees hit the dirt. “Are you okay?” She grabbed Kenzie’s arms, pulled the tape off her eyes and mouth.

Kenzie tipped her head to the side. Her teeth were clenched.

“What happened?” cried Jane. “Did someone—” She couldn’t say the word.

Kenzie rolled over. “I’m okay,” she said, breathing hard. “Untie my hands.”

Jane removed the duct tape and tossed it aside.

As soon as her hands were free, Kenzie grabbed Jane and held on for dear life.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

She shivered in Jane’s arms.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know … I … I heard this kind of sizzling pop and then … I felt this pain all over. My legs just gave out. It was so weird. I couldn’t move. I felt my arms being twisted behind me. And
then I was on my back again.” She pushed away from Jane, looked down at her stomach. “Fuck this!” She tried to wipe off the word.

“Don’t,” said Jane, pulling her hands away.

“Why?”

“Because we need to call the police. It’s evidence.”