Black Widow (23 page)

Tears fill my eyes as I think of Becca, my closest friend, too.

Gone.

Everyone important in my life ends up dead. Am I cursed? Is this God’s way of getting back at me for being a criminal defense attorney?
I shake my head at the thought.

“Beyond the club, what else do you do?”

Instead of answering me, he reaches into his back pocket, grabbing something out and handing it to me. I look down to see a business card reading Babcock Construction.

“Wait, you own Babcock Construction?”

“Yes, I do,” he looks down.

“Ok, hold on…” I pause as I remember everything from my date with Kevin. “So that’s why he kept saying your name... He knew you were the owner of Bridge and he was trying to see if I knew as well.”

He squints his eyes, “I don’t follow.”

“I met a guy a few weeks ago. We went out for drinks and he was acting really weird but he kept saying your name and actually recommended you to me since I’m looking to remodel a house to live in.”

He takes a deep breath in, releasing it slowly. “Yes, Kevin... I’m sorry he did that to you.”

I pause as tingles creep up my spine, remembering the feeling when he said my name. “But wait, could he have done this…?”

“Done what?”

“This. Becca. The whole framing thing?”

“No way.”

“No, you don’t understand. He stopped me after work and was really pissed off at you. He said, ‘He’ll pay for cancelling my membership.’”

“There is no way he would kill someone over cancelling his membership. No one is that crazy.”

If only that were true. Unfortunately, I’ve seen first hand the evil that lives within people. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“No, Kamii, I may not know him that well but he’s not a killer.”

“But someone is. And believe me, you never know what someone is capable of, especially when they feel jaded. Did he know that Becca was a member as well?”

“I don’t know if they knew each other, actually. I handled his application where normally she processed them.”

I write his name on my notepad as a possible suspect, even if he thinks so or not, as of right now he’s our only lead and he even has a motive to try to frame Preston. “Who else would have known you even knew Becca? I need a list of all the members of the club.”

“No can do.”

I look up shocked. “You’re kidding me right? I need to investigate everything and since members of the club are the only people who knew both you and Becca, there is a good chance this person is from the club. I know you think it’s all anonymous but Kevin proved that some people just can’t keep their mouths shut.”

“No, there’s no way it’s someone from the club.”

“How can you honestly say that?”

“Because I just know. People who I let into my club hold a higher standard of persona. They would not kill anyone like this. Especially someone from within the club.”

“You can think that all you want but I still need to rule them out for sure. Or what about that woman I saw trying to talk to you a few times. Who was she?”

His face turns a slight shade of red as he clenches his jaw tightly before saying, “I told you, no. I promised secrecy at my club and I will go down for this murder before I break that secrecy. I would hope as a member yourself you would understand that. And I don’t know what woman you’re talking about anyway.”

I have to be thankful he wants to keep his promise but at the same time I don’t understand why he would rather go to jail than give me that list if it ever came down to it.

“Well, how can you explain the link between you and Becca? Who else knew you were even friends?”

“No one really, but that doesn’t mean people didn’t see us together. She is the only person I have had any type of outing with since my wife died. I mean, we would go to lunch or dinner together sometimes. Especially when we were setting up the club. She was my right hand man, per se.”

“Which proves my point even more. It has to be someone from the club.”

He looks me dead in the eye, stern as hell, slowly stating his point, “I. Said. No.”

“Ok, fine. No list. Tell me of any enemies then. Any business deals gone bad?”

“None that I can think of. Customers are pretty happy with our service.”

“Well, you need to think hard. Whoever this is,” I pause, looking down to the evidence, “knew things. Personal things, beyond just that you were close with Becca. They knew your shoe size, and the brand of shoes you wear. Come on, how many people wear size 13 Salvatore Ferragamo shoes? Those are what, $800- $900 a pair? Look,” I grab a photo from the pile, “they found bloody footprints at the scene and they found the same shoes at your house with blood residue still on them. How did the shoes get in your house?”

“But that’s the thing. Those aren’t my shoes anymore. I had a pair like that but got rid of them a few weeks ago.”

“What did you do with them?”

“Donated them. Every six months I get a new pair and donate my old ones to the Veteran’s home for people who need nice shoes to go on interviews for jobs. Look, those are last years model.” He takes off a shoe he has on, showing me the bottom, “See the bottoms are different. If those are truly mine then those are my old pair and I was wearing this pair at the club that night.”

I interrupt him, “But Preston, how is that even possible? And how in the world do they even have your fingerprints at the scene? Someone went through a lot of trouble, methodically planning this out and being very high tech about it. I know there are ways to duplicate fingerprints but we’re talking some 007 stuff here. When I first saw this evidence, I told your lawyer it was an open/shut case.”

“But you know I didn’t do it,” he stands up, pleading to me.

“Yes, you’re lucky that I do know that. But knowing and proving are two completely different things. I need to prove, without a doubt that it wasn’t you.”

“What about your wife? Where is her family? Do they know why she killed herself? Could they be trying to get back at you for something?”

He sits back down, shaking his head as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Her parents have kept in touch with me and no, they don’t know why. She has a brother, Trevor. He’s kind of a mess. In and out of jail, I have no idea where he is now. They were close and whenever he did come around it was only to ask for money.”

“Would she give him some?”

“She always would. I’d get so pissed for her enabling him.”

“Ok, now we have a motive. He was probably upset that she couldn’t give him money anymore. How can I find him?”

“I’d have to go through Kim’s stuff. I have no clue where he is. Last I heard he was living in Oakland somewhere.”

I write down on my note with a big red pen circling his and Kevin’s name, satisfied with the progress we made here tonight, even though I still need to get the names of the members or figure out who that woman was at least?

E
ven though I didn’t want to leave, Kamii made it pretty clear it was time for me to go. It’s past midnight and I’m happy to see the media has taken off for the night so I’m clear to head up to my apartment without being harassed.

After parking my car in the underground garage, I walk into the elevator only to be stopped as someone jams their hand into the door, stopping it right before it closed completely. With my nerves completely on edge, and the fact that I thought I was alone, I tighten my fists, mentally preparing for anything as the door opens back up, revealing a man, staring at me with a blank stare.

“Are you getting in?” I ask sternly.

“Depends?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re Preston Babcock right?”

Aw shit…
“Who’s asking?”

“Becca meant a lot to me. I’m here to defend her, since she obviously couldn’t defend herself against you.”

I hold up my hands, “Look man. She meant a lot to me, too. I promise, I didn’t do anything to harm her.”

“Bullshit! You killed her. And I promise you this, you will go down for her murder. You will rot in prison for what you did to her. All the evidence is there. You killed her. And if I wasn’t who I am, I would kill you myself right here, right now.”

With that, the man turns and walks away, not saying another word as the elevator doors close again, for good this time. I fall up against the wall as nerves fill my body, making my chest pound and my hands tremble.
What the hell is going on?

As I pass by my hall closet once inside my place, I notice the light is turned on inside with the door still closed. I must not have noticed it on in the daylight when I picked up my house from the police search. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I open it up to shut it off. I try to stay out of this closet because it has some of Kim’s old things and just brings back too many memories.

I look up at the box I had put there almost a year ago, after Kim passed away that’s full of her belongings. Emptiness runs through my body, making my stomach turn and my nerves stand on end. I promised I would never touch the box again. It’s just too hard but I know now I have no choice and since I already opened the closet door, I might as well go all the way into my memories of hell.

I know the info I need to find Kim’s brother, Trevor, is in that box. He was a crazy son-of-a-bitch and as of right now he’s our only lead. I have to find him.

Swallowing my gut down, I pull the box off the shelf and start to go through it. The pictures, a few of her favorite clothes and her jewelry lay on top making my chest clinch at the sight.
This is just too much.

I need a drink.

I leave the box open on the floor and walk into the kitchen. After taking a swig of Jack Daniels, straight from the bottle, a faint sound catches my attention but I ignore it and head back to the box.

Kneeling down, looking at the contents again makes my chest burn with hatred for myself.
Yeah, I need another shot.

After quickly taking another shot, I sit back down and start to remove some things. Under her favorite blanket, that she was so proud she made herself, are pictures of us at Lake Tahoe, wine tasting in Napa and the one taken the day we found out she was pregnant. Too bad like everything else in my life, we lost that baby two months after the photo was taken.

Getting up to take another shot, I head back to the box and find her address book which does indeed have Trevor’s address in it. As I place the address book to the side to start putting things back in, the sight of a caricature we had done of us on Pier 39 catches my attention. We had it made right after I proposed at the same spot I first met her. She said it would be a great reminder to always be silly and never take life too seriously. Why she didn’t believe her own words I will never understand.