A Dead Sister (Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery) (24 page)

“Okay, Uncle Don. That’s another reason I’m glad to review all of this with you. I’m going to have Tommy and Jerry Reynolds at my house tomorrow night and I’d like to put Jerry to work trying to follow up on a few things. You know, he’s the P.I. who helped with the investigation into Roger’s death? It would make things easier to tell Tommy, too, since he and Jerry are close. I know we need to get moving pretty soon, but I have a couple other things. One is pretty simple. The boyfriend and a neighbor who saw Kelly Monday evening on her way back to work both said she was wearing a black vest. In the photos she’s not wearing it. I didn’t see anything in the record that says a vest was found anywhere near her. There’s nothing about it being logged in as evidence. Does the matter of a missing vest ring a bell?”

“I don’t recall. I was surprised by that fact that she was still wearing the same clothes after nearly a week. Hard to imagine that since she was always such a glamor girl. We used to tease her about that. Sammy complained she went through more clothes in a week than he did in a month, sometimes changing two or three times a day! She was in that bathroom of hers for hours, showering and primping. He says she was always asking for money for some new product for that gorgeous hair of hers. Sammy called her bathroom a shampoo museum with bottles lined up all over the bathroom. He never understood it, but it was one of the little things he missed after she moved out on her own. I’m guessing she left that vest wherever she was holed up for the last few days of her life. Maybe that’s where she left her phone, too.”

“Okay, I just wanted to be sure I hadn’t missed something. One last thing, and that’s the issue of drugs. Was she an addict? I thought I knew her pretty well. She hated needles. Those pictures are hard to deny, but for her to mess her body up like that it just seems impossible. Did Sammy and Monica say she was having problems with drugs like that?”

“They were as shocked as you are, Jessica. Angry and hurt, embarrassed for Kelly, so we were careful not to go too far down that road. It didn’t seem relevant to the investigation of a hit-and-skip. Sammy told me Kelly had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and had started taking prescription medications. They weren’t sure what she had told the shrink that led to her diagnosis, and planned to talk to her shrink after the funeral. Then Monica began having her own problems, and Sammy got sick. Both were seeing a lot of docs of their own. I don’t know if they ever got around to talking with Kelly’s shrink or not. I’m not sure what they could have learned by doing that, anyway. They were having such a hard time, I just let it go.” He looked from Jessica to Frank and back again.

“What good would it do to look into Kelly’s drug use or her mental problems when, as far as we could tell, she had been the victim of a terrible accident? Maybe she was so stoned or so crazy out of her mind she contributed to the accident in some way. But what difference did that make? That was no excuse for the bastard that ran her down to just leave like that. It didn’t seem right to make a dead girl look bad, or to put her parents through more by investigating that aspect of her life. Like I said, we weren’t thinking about foul play beyond the fact that she was the victim of a hit-and-run accident at the hands of some douche bag. I suppose she could have stiffed some dealer. The son-of-a-bitch might have been angry enough to run her down in his expensive Mercedes sedan paid for by selling drugs to young women like Kelly. Maybe we dropped the ball...I don’t know...”

Don Fontana’s voice faded out. His shoulders slumped, as he seemed to sink into the growing darkness around them. The patio light illuminating him from behind reflected off the grey in his hair and cast shadows that deepened the furrows in his aging face. In that moment, Jessica could believe he was a grandfather to two kids on the verge of becoming teenagers. It was the first time she saw him as an older version of the man they had all counted on while growing up. Everybody’s Uncle Don, a sturdy anchor of a man
, was showing his age.

“Dad, that’s not true. You all did your job, and then some. You couldn’t have done more without overreaching.” Frank put an arm around his father’s shoulders. That Uncle Don allowed such a public display of affection, such a reversal of roles, was a testament to how deeply disturbing all of this was to him.

“Frank’s right Uncle Don. You did as much as you could without Chester Davis or someone else coming forward with information to point you in a different direction. Frank and I will do everything possible to follow up on his story. If he’s lying, we’ll find that out, too. We’ll do as much as we can without making Sammy and Monica relive this nightmare. I
will
talk to Tommy, though. Frank can help me do that, since he’s coming to my house for dinner tomorrow night with Tommy and the rest of the cat pack.”

“The what?” Father and son asked, almost in unison. They looked so much alike and were so similarly befuddled that Jessica’s dark mood broke. She tried to explain what she meant by cat pack, and how they had forged their little band fending off the bad guys involved in Roger Stone’s murder. That included an effort to describe her role as cat herder or cat whisperer. The more she spoke, the sillier it all sounded.

Hopped up on sugar and giddy with stress, it took only a few more seconds for her to get a case of the giggles. They had all arrived at that point where you had to either laugh or cry. Huddling around the patio table in Frank Fontana’s backyard, on a warm Fourth of July evening, should have been a lark. Instead, they pondered the fate of the dead auburn-haired girl, loved by them all. That she might actually have been murdered was too bizarre. Trying to explain about the cat pack had pushed the whole situation to the point of absurdity. Jessica laughed and they laughed with her.

When the laughing ceased, Uncle Don wiped tears from his eyes as he spoke. “Jessica, you still have to let Art and his guys do their job. Art Greenwald’s been at it a long time, and he’s a good cop, too. He’ll go over everything again and again. Give him a day or two, then call or meet with him and ask him the same questions you asked me. They’re all good questions. Sometimes, asking the right question is the most important part of getting the right answer, you know?”

CHAPTER 18

Jessica tried not to speed after she merged from state highway 60 onto I-10. Whizzing past the outlet mall near Cabazon, she hardly noticed the fake dinosaurs hovering over the gas station not too far from the Morongo Casino. She was nearing the Banning pass. There is no more beautiful site than the Coachella Valley coming into view on the other side of the pass, at least not to a “home girl” like Jessica. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Driving or flying into the valley at night was perhaps more beautiful. All the desert cities lit up, glittered like jewels scattered across the valley floor.

The windmills dotting the landscape around the pass were unsightly and invasive to some. To Jessica, they were foot soldiers deployed alongside the guardians, Mt. San Jacinto and Mt. San Gorgonio, which stood watch on opposite sides of the pass. Windmills had proliferated in the Banning pass, one of the windiest places on earth, since Jessica went off to school at the end of the ‘90s. Their silent churning urged her on. She wanted to get home, unpack and give Bernadette a head’s-up about what was in store for them all this evening.

When she pulled into the garage of the estate in Mission Hills before noon, Bernadette’s Escalade wasn’t parked in the four-car garage. That meant Jessica would have time to unload and settle in before catching up with Bernadette. Settling in was one thing, settling down was an altogether different matter. She needed to do that, too, before speaking to Bernadette. Her superpowers would detect Jessica’s hopped-up mood in no time.

Not all the fireworks the night before had been at the display put on by the city of Riverside. Jessica had tried not to think about it while she was driving, talk about distracted driving! Another of those goodbye hugs from Frank had left her with buckled knees. She could barely remember arriving back at the hotel, making her way to her room or falling into bed. Her dreams had been vivid, to say the least, and she had no trouble at all remembering them or the encounter that had triggered them.

Jessica counted off the months again. First, the months
since
last
March when she had filed for divorce...March, April, May, June. Then, she ticked off the months
until next
March when the awful first year would end. Nothing had changed since her last count, still four months down and eight to go. Last night, and again today, Jessica heard Uncle Don’s admonition echoing in her head.

She also heard Frank’s voice, speaking to her as he had last night. They were standing next to her car in the dark, saying goodbye. Pulling her toward him, he had whispered in her ear, so close she could feel his breath as he spoke, “So, you had a crush on me in high school, cuz? What am I supposed to do with that information, now that we’re all grown up?”

Jessica had collapsed into his arms, giggling like a schoolgirl, a good Catholic one, of course. She couldn’t stand the thought of misleading Uncle Don with her assurances about “taking it slow” and being sensible. “You’re supposed to help me clear my head so I can get through the first year of my divorce and figure things out,” she added, a little breathlessly, as his arms closed around her. “This isn’t helping me do that at all, cuz.” Instead of warding Frank off, those words only caused him to tighten his grip.

Jessica had to find out what he used to give him that scent that was making her woozy, giggling again as she realized her grip had tightened, too. Thank God, his family was waiting for him to join them in their car. Frank had ridden with her to the park. Since she was going straight back to the Mission Inn, he was riding home in the mini-van with Uncle Don, Aunt Evelyn and the kids. Right now, they were all parked around the corner, with the engine running.

“I’m being as helpful as I can, cuz. I heard Dad talking to you. I got the ‘take it easy talk’ from him, too. I promised I would. But this isn’t going to be at all easy is it, even though a promise is a promise?”

“Yeah, a promise is a promise,” Jessica agreed, releasing him ever so slightly. With that, he let go a little, too. As he did, his cheek brushed hers. A hint of stubble caressed, ever so lightly. Maybe it was whatever he used when he shaved that carried the scent she found so alluring. She breathed deeply, hoping to capture and hold onto it as he moved away.

Suddenly, a blast of nostalgia slammed into Jessica from out of nowhere. Her body recalled, even before it registered in her mind, all the times Jim had caused her to laugh by tickling her when he needed a shave. Her head spun as she fought not to release a flood of bitter tears. She released her grip on Frank. “A promise is a promise,” she muttered again. But “not to everyone, not to Jim,” she thought, flashing for an instant on that scene in her bedroom in Cupertino.

Grasping, immediately, the change that had swept over her, Frank scooped Jessica into his arms again. “Trust me, cuz. It will get better, and that’s a promise too.” With that, he kissed her on the top of the head and let her go. He guided her around to the driver’s side of the car and opened the door for her. When the interior light came on she could see his dark eyes. They were filled with concern and something she needed even more than sex, understanding and compassion.

“Thanks, cuz. I mean that, too.” She gave him a little peck on the cheek, then slipped into her seat. As she pulled away from the curb, she could see him standing there, watching her drive off. It took willpower—lots of it—not to put her car in reverse, back up to the curb, and pull him into the seat beside her. She wanted understanding and compassion
and
sex! What was wrong with that?

It all still sounded pretty good to Jessica, today too. Frank would be there for dinner and their discussion with the cat pack. Maybe she would have him stay the night, in one of the guest rooms, of course...just down the
hall. She knew she wasn’t ready to take the plunge. What if another of those sad bouts of reminiscence engulfed her as it had last night without warning? She could try to put the grief and betrayal out of her mind, might enjoy herself with Frank anyway, but why? What was the point? How did she really know he was any more trustworthy than Jim?

Trust mattered. Even more, now, after that kick in the gut by Jim. Sex was intensely physical, but way more than a booty call or some bodily function, like taking a crap. Not something you did to feign intimacy or a mere formality you got out of the way. Some loser in college had actually used something like that on her as a pickup line: “Hey, Jessica, you’re looking hot tonight. Why don’t we go find someplace more private? We should get this sex thing out of the way so we can see if there’s something real between us.”

“Huh?” She had just stood there, looking at his eyes hooded from too much booze and the smirk on his face, as if he were trying to channel Elvis. Why on earth did he think she had any interest in him, sexual or otherwise, since she barely knew him? How could he possibly not know that was the buzz kill of all buzz kills?

It was still a buzz-kill, after all these years. Like a cold shower or a slap in the face. The recollection of that incident got her back on track, fast. She was in no shape to start a relationship of any kind with Frank, or anyone else for that matter. She had a career to re-launch and, oh yeah, a murder to solve.

Jessica had finished unpacking and was pondering what to wear when two things happened. Bernadette called out a “yoo-hoo, I’m home” as she came into the house from the garage. And her phone rang.

“Bernadette, I need to talk to you as soon as you’re settled in. I’ve got to take a phone call. You need help unloading your car?”

She couldn’t hear all of Bernadette’s reply, but she did hear “no, I’m okay, Jessica. Take your call.”

“Hello, Jessica Huntington speaking.”

“Jessica, this is Paul Worthington. Have you got a minute?”

“Sure, Paul, what’s up?”

“Not much, except that the Van der Woerts believe I’m brilliant. They absolutely loved you,
and
the fact that you live in the desert,
and
will be working at an office we’re opening, so they don’t have to come into L.A. after they retire. You’d think I had done it all just for them. They were impressed with everything about you. Not that I find that the least bit surprising. You do make quite an impression, Jessica Huntington, no hyphen.”

“Thanks, Paul, that’s such a nice thing to hear. What happens now?”

“I just got off the phone with them a few minutes ago, and agreed to call you and set a time for you to meet with them again. They’d like a block of time with you. A couple hours, at least, so they can give you more specifics about their personal situation. That includes retirement, moving to the desert, and estate planning, and the time frame they have in mind. Tuesday worked for everybody last week. Can you do something like that again?”

“I can, Paul. What would you advise?”

“Well, it means driving into L.A. again, sooner than I had imagined, but we’re trying to be accommodating. If you can plan on having lunch with the Van der Woerts, then meeting for 2-3 hours, that would be great. I’d like to join you for lunch and the first part of the meeting, and then turn it over to you. You can make whatever arrangements you want to meet with them from that point on. I don’t see why the next time you meet, it can’t be at the office in the desert. Maybe you can coordinate around their house-hunting plans. That’s up to the three of you, and whoever is helping out on the real estate side of things. So, how does this sound?”

“It sounds great. Tuesday is no problem. I’ll just block out the whole day. So, whatever works for the Van der Woerts is fine with me.”

“Wonderful! I’ll get back to them right away, and let them pick a time and place for lunch on Tuesday. My administrative assistant, Gloria Crane, can make the reservations and email you with information about what time to meet at the office. It’ll be easier if we all meet here. I can arrange for a car take all of us to lunch. I’ll also have Gloria schedule one of the small conference rooms for the entire afternoon so you all can take as much time as you need. Staff will bring you coffee, tea or other refreshments if the meeting runs more than a couple hours. What else do you need to get things moving, Jessica?”

“Well, any
more background information you can share about the Van der Woerts would be great. I presume, since they’ve been clients in the past, there’s some sort of a portfolio that’s already been compiled. I’d like to see that before we meet again, if that can be arranged. And if you have a standard template or checklist you use for an estate planning review, I’d like to see that too. If not, I can use one I’m familiar with. It’s based on the one put together by the ABA.” She didn’t say she was familiar with it because it was the one her parents used, and that she and Jim had used.

“No problem. We
do have background information about the Van der Woerts in their file. That’s pretty basic, but a good place to start. They also have wills on file already. I have no idea when they were last updated. I’ll make sure Gloria adds you as the attorney of record, and you can access the information we have about them from home or the office. As far as the estate planning review, we use a form that sounds similar. It’s the ABA template, appended with information specific to California. You can get an electronic version that’s fillable off our intranet. I’ll have Gloria print copies so you and the Van der Woerts can all be looking at the questions together. We have a searchable database that contains all sorts of forms and templates, and document samples you can access on the firm’s intranet. I’m sending you the link as we speak, and Gloria will send you a user name and password.”

“Thanks, Paul. That will be a great help. I really am happy to be working with the Van der Woerts, and grateful for your support.”

“I’m happy it worked out, too. The last request I’d like to make is that you have dinner with me Tuesday night. That way, you can debrief about your meeting, and we can celebrate. I know we have a movie night planned for next weekend, but I don’t think we should wait that long to toast your success. You’re going to be in town, anyway, so we should mark the occasion.”

He sou
nded ebullient. Jessica couldn’t say no, even though the day’s activities seemed daunting. She would have preferred to say goodbye to the Van der Woerts and make her way back to Brentwood for a quiet evening alone. He was so earnest, proud of her and proud of himself for setting all this up.

“Sure, Paul. You know the area better than I do. If you have a place you like, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it, too. Shall I meet you there?”

“No, I have a better idea. There’s an exhibit I want you to see before dinner. It won’t take long. Come to my office whenever the Van der Woerts leave. Take time to make notes. Do whatever you need to do so you can pick up where you leave off later, then find me. We’ll go to the exhibit and to dinner after that. I’ll drop you off later so you can pick up your car from the lot. You’re going to get a kick out of the exhibit.” He was chuckling with delight.

How was it that she had ever thought of Paul Worthington as standoffish or reserved? He was so likable and enthusiastic. His day would start before hers on Tuesday. God only knew how many clients he was juggling like he was doing with the Van der Woerts, or how many other associates he was mentoring like Jessica. He also had his colleagues and the partners at the firm to keep happy, too, and was charged with getting the El Paseo office up and running. Ay yi yi! Jessica was becoming exhausted just thinking about the hours he must keep. It was also inspiring. If he could do it, she could do it!