Justification for Murder (7 page)

D
arcy watched Sorensen put up the new victim’s photo on his case board. Below, he carefully wrote in block letters “NAME: Sheila Rothschild. DOB: 7-16-65. TOD: around 8:30 a.m.” Then he paused and looked back at the file, searching. He wrote “Likes to BBQ?”

“Do you find that useful?” Darcy asked him.

“What? The board?” Sorensen put the file back on his desk.

“Yeah. We didn’t do anything like that in Seattle.”

“I do. Find it useful. It helps me think. I often add things that don’t even seem relevant at the time, but that for some reason grab my attention. Sometimes they end up meaning something. Sometimes they don’t.”

Sorensen turned back to his board. “See this?” he said, pointing to the second victim, Taisha Robinson.

Darcy got up from his chair and walked closer to Sorensen’s board. Leaning on the desk, he said, “Likes gardening.”

“She had a shed and a very nice backyard. Beautiful flowers and bushes all well pruned. She was an old woman and yet she must have spent a lot of time in the yard.”

“Okay…” Darcy said, not really understanding why that mattered. “So?”

“Well, the tool she used to mutilate herself was some gardening shears. See this one?” Sorensen pointed to his new victim.

“Yes. She liked to barbecue.”

“She had a nice kitchen and a full set of Henckels barbecue tools. They are the best in the market. I wish I could afford a set like hers.” He paused and looked at Lynch. “She carved her breast out with a barbecue fork.”

Darcy nodded.

“Does it mean anything?” Sorensen asked, more in general than to Lynch. “I don’t know yet. Maybe. But having it out on the board helps me keep it in the back of my mind. You never know when a brilliant idea is going to surprise you.”

He smiled and hit Darcy on the shoulder. This was the first sign of camaraderie Darcy had felt coming from the huge detective.

“I think I’m going to try it,” Darcy said, heading toward the supply closet.

A few minutes later he came back with a brand-new whiteboard a little smaller than Sorensen’s. He placed it on the right side of his desk, close to his chair, so he could write while seated. He browsed through the first file, trying to figure out what he wanted to highlight. He picked Saffron’s DMV picture and put it up. He stared at it for a few seconds. It didn’t do her justice. He looked for a better photo, but there weren’t any others. Darcy made a mental note to print the photo from her LinkedIn profile later. He rummaged some more and settled on a picture of the totaled car and a smaller one of Ranjan. He still hadn’t ruled him out as the main victim yet, though he was almost sure this wasn’t about him.

He looked over Sorensen’s board to see what type of information he had written on it and copied it on his own. Instead of time of death, he wrote the time of both incidents, the hit and run on the road and the chase after the perp ran away from Saffron’s place when they got there. Then he added everything else he could think of, but specially the first things that popped into his head: knife, Timberland boots, black leather gloves, stolen truck.

When he ran out of evidence, he wrote the biggest question of all in red marker: “Motive.” He looked at the word and then added two question marks after it. He stared at the board for a few minutes, trying to take in all of the information and wondering if there was anything else he wanted to write or thought he should. Nothing came to mind. He felt green doing this exercise, as if he were back in school taking a test he hadn’t prepared for. The initial feelings of enthusiasm he had felt by writing all of this down died instantly when he realized he still had nothing.

Darcy reread the entire file but didn’t find anything else worth noting. He then moved on to Jacqueline Pritchard. He pinned her DMV picture. She hadn’t been a very attractive woman, but she looked kind. Her wiry silver bob accentuated her round face and crooked teeth. There were smile lines around her eyes and mouth. She was an elementary school teacher. She lived alone and would have retired in a couple years. She had a cat.

“Saffron has a cat,” he said to himself and wrote “Cat” toward the bottom of the board, under both names.

He focused on the CSU report. Based on the information from Rachel, the lines must have been punctured anywhere from a few minutes to several hours before the accident. He wrote “Pushpin?” as well.

He leafed through the file one more time to see if anything else caught his attention. Mrs. Pritchard was divorced, didn’t have children but had a sister living in Arizona. She had been notified at the time of the accident and was making arrangements to come to California to claim the body. He decided to give her a call.

“Mrs. Hudson, my name is Detective Darcy Lynch. I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said as soon as Jacqueline’s sister answered the phone. “I would like to ask you a few questions about your sister if you have the time.”

“Hello, Detective. I just arrived in San Jose. I was on my way to my sister’s. Would you like to meet there?”

“Yes, I’ll come by in thirty minutes.”

He read the file one more time, just to make sure he had all of the information fresh in his mind, then headed for his car. He decided to take the surface streets to avoid the beginning of rush hour. The journey took him a little longer than he expected, but he managed to be late by only a few minutes. He parked on the street.

The house was modest but well kept. The grass looked recently mowed. The white trim was bright and contrasted nicely with the red door. Darcy had always liked red doors for some reason.

He rang the bell and set his sunglasses to the top of his head. The spitting image of Jacqueline Pritchard opened the door. He was surprised, and it must have shown.

“Yes, I know. People used to think we were twins,” Michelle Hudson said, extending her hand. “I’m actually a year older than my sister.” A shadow of sadness darkened her face. “Detective Lynch, I’m assuming?” When he nodded, she said, “Please, come in.”

They walked in silence to the kitchen, where she poured two generous cups of tea without asking him if he wanted any. Then she motioned for them to go to the living room. It was spacious and bright. Two large bay windows faced the backyard. A young plum tree provided a bit of shade for the tomato bushes.

“We can go to the patio if you want. I always forget that it’s often nicer outside than inside in California. That’s rarely the case in Arizona. Too hot.”

They went to the back and sat on two comfortable lounge chairs. The light breeze made the afternoon pleasant and fresh with fruit tree scents.

“Were you two close?” Darcy asked.

“Yes. We’d always been. It was a really hard decision for me to move to Arizona, but Jackie had just got married and my job offered me a good package if I relocated. We talked every week. I knew something was wrong when I called her last Sunday and I couldn’t reach her. By Monday I was not surprised when the police called me to tell me that she had been in a fatal accident.”

He nodded. “Did she have a good marriage?”

“For the most part. Ron was a nice man.”

“Why did it end?” He took a sip of the tea. It was really strong. He wasn’t expecting that, and it made him cough.

“Ah, sorry, I should have warned you,” she said with a smile. “Old habit.”

“It’s good. The light color threw me off.”

She closed her eyes and smelled the steaming cup. She had a serene expression, as if the scent had transported her to somewhere far away with good memories.

“She wanted children and he didn’t. At the end, they were both too smart to realize that neither would change their mind, so they went their separate ways. That was over fifteen years ago.”

“Did she get along with everybody at work? Did she belong to any clubs or groups? Do you think she had any enemies?”

Mrs. Hudson looked at him over the rim of the mug. She then focused on the yard and then back at him. “Detective Lynch, I thought my sister died in a car accident. Went over the railing at a curve or something like that. Why are you asking me all of these questions?”

“We have some reason to believe that somebody tampered with her brakes.”

Her eyebrows rose. She set the cup down on the tiny table between them. “Why on earth would anybody do that?”

“That’s what I was hoping you could help me figure out. Can you think of anybody who would want to hurt your sister?”

“No. But if there was somebody, all they had to do was wait a few months.”

Darcy looked at her, uncomprehending.

“She had breast cancer. Terminal.”

S
affron decided she was done crying. Dozens of crumpled Kleenex covered her coffee table, some spilling over onto the floor. She picked them up in a quick, swift motion and threw them into the kitchen garbage can. She blew her nose one more time, avoided looking at herself in the mirror by the door and dialed to return the long-overdue phone call.

“Detective Lynch, I believe you wanted to talk to me about knives,” she said. Her voice was raspy from all the crying.

“I’m on my way back to the station. Could you meet me there?”

“Actually, if it’s not urgent, can we meet tomorrow?” She almost told him she had broken up with Ranjan but figured he wouldn’t care about her personal business.

“Sure, no problem. Any time in the morning would work.”

“Okay,” she said and felt the tears come again.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes. See you tomorrow.” She hung up.

She called Emma, who promised to be there in less than an hour. Saffron opened a bottle of wine, but before pouring a glass she took a long, hot shower. Her hair was still wet when Emma showed up.

“Jesus, the taxi service is getting worse by the day in this town,” Emma said as Saffron opened the door. As soon as she saw Saffron’s face, she changed gears. “How are you?” she asked while they hugged.

“Not so well.”

Saffron started crying again. Emma stroked her hair and told her everything was going to be okay, as if she were a little girl. After a few minutes, she calmed down and poured two generous glasses of Merlot. They moved to the balcony, and Saffron told her everything that had happened in excruciating detail.

“Wait, wait. What do you mean somebody tried to kill you? Shouldn’t you be crying about that instead of this douche-bag?”

Saffron laughed. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “To be honest, I was so worried about Ranjan in the hospital, then so upset about his dick uncle, that I really hadn’t had any time to think about that.”

“Girl, you better start. What do you think’s going on?”

“Honestly? I think it’s a misunderstanding. I mean, I’ve got no money, no company secrets, haven’t pissed off anybody that badly…” She took a sip of wine and thought more about other possible options. “There’s just no reason at all why anybody would want to kill me.”

“And yet he’s tried. Twice.”

“But now I have—what do they call it in the movies?—my own personal police detail,” she said and smiled, pointing at the car stationed on the other side of the street.

“I don’t think you should be so flippant about it. This is serious.” Emma refilled the glasses. “Why don’t you come and stay with us for a while?”

“And lose my handsome cops out there watching over me? No way.”

“Maybe you can bring them along.”

They toasted to the idea. Emma’s phone rang.

“Sorry, Sofia is with the baby-sitter, so I have to check.”

Saffron nodded and started thinking about the man with the Timberland boots and the shiny knife. The weather was still hot for October, but she felt a shiver. Emma was right: she should take this more seriously.

“Crap, my baby-sitter has an emergency back home. I have to get back.”

“Okay, no worries.”

“I wanted to spend the evening with you, but I can’t reach Bob. It went to voice mail, and I know he had back-to-back calls with Asia tonight.”

She hung up and dialed the number for a taxi.

“Why don’t you come?”

“No. I’m going to stay in, watch a sappy movie and catch up on email.”

“Read them, but make sure you don’t answer any.”

Saffron gave her a puzzled look.

“I don’t think you are in any state to do real work,” she said, pointing to the empty glass in her hand.

“I think you’re very right,” Saffron poured another one.

“What?” Emma asked speaking into the phone. “The taxi’s going to take twenty minutes. Can you believe that?” she said to Saffron, not covering the phone with her hand.

“What happened to your car?”

“It’s in the shop. They told me it would just take a few hours but then called me to say they needed to change something or other and it had to be there overnight.”

“Take my car if you are sober enough to drive.”

“Are you sure? What are you going to do tomorrow?”

“I can always ask my new friends for a ride. I have some police business to take care of in the morning anyway,” she said, trying to sound smug but already slurring the words a little.

“You are the best, thank you.”

Emma kissed her on the head. They hugged, and she headed toward the door.

“Remember to lock up behind me,” she shouted back and took Saffron’s spare car keys before closing the door.

“I love you too, Emma,” Saffron responded and smiled. “You are the best friend in the world,” she said, even though she knew Emma wouldn’t hear her.

T
yler Warren opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled two new shirts. One was white with thin blue and burgundy stripes. The other was black with that sheen that only new shirts seem to have. He chose the black one. Without bothering to close the blinds in his office, he stripped from the waist up and put on the new shirt. Nobody bothered to look. This had become routine in the last few months.

He splashed on some cologne and headed for the bathroom. He thought of shaving but decided that the five-o’clock shadow gave him a more masculine look. His hair was still held in place by the morning’s gel and his eyes were bright, even though he was tired. His tanned skin masked the dark circles but intensified his few crow’s-feet. He grabbed his jacket and, satisfied with his look, left the office. His Omega said it was 7:30. He barely had thirty minutes to make it from Palo Alto to San Francisco. He was going to be late.

The Tesla weaved between traffic while Warren listened to a TED podcast on the potential of regenerative medicine. Thirty-five minutes later, Interstate 280 turned into King Street—he had finally reached the South of Market district. He took a left on Third Street and stopped by the W Hotel’s front door. He handed the keys to the valet and headed directly for The Living Room bar and lounge.

The place was bathed in a soft blue light with brighter colors emanating from the shelves filled with designer alcohol bottles. The patterns proyected on the walls changed in tune with the house-lounge music.

I’m getting too old for this place
, he thought.

He looked around. The place was pretty full with good-looking people in their thirties with money to spend. At a first glance he didn’t find her, so he decided to grab a place at the bar and text her. He put his jacket on the empty stool next to his to save her a seat.

“Vodka martini, please.”

The alcohol soothed him. He felt the syrupy liquid fill his mouth and coat his throat. He savored it. He reached out and grabbed a couple honey-roasted peanuts. The sweet and salty flavor clashed with the vodka and ruined the soothing effect. He wiped his fingers on a paper napkin and took another sip.

He had no missed calls, voice mails or unread texts.
Maybe it’s better this way
, he thought.

Tyler looked around him. There was a group of women a few feet away. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but they laughed often. The one facing him had really large teeth and was flat chested. The one next to her was much sexier. On the plump side, but her blond hair, blue eyes and double-Ds would be perfect for a good time. He finished his drink and ordered another one.

He wondered if he should text his date but decided not to waste his time. Tyler figured he was much better off picking somebody from the crowd, already knowing what they looked like. With online dating, it was always a surprise, and very often a bad one. He took another sip of his martini and felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw two huge brown eyes framed by incredibly long eyelashes smiling at him.

“Tyler?”

Her voice was soft but not timid. He nodded.

“I’m Eva. Nice to meet you.”

She extended her hand. She was much more formal than he would have expected. He took it and shook it firmly.

“May I sit?” she asked, motioning toward the high stool next to his.

“Please,” he said, standing up and removing his coat from the back of the chair.

She asked the bartender for a cosmopolitan. Her hair was much longer than in the pictures. It was very thick and shiny. He saw her taste her drink and smile, probably enjoying the combination of flavors. Her lips were full and shiny, forming a perfect heart shape.

Tyler realized that he was pleasantly surprised. He looked at her via the bar mirror and found her eyes looking back at him. They both smiled at the same time. She looked away first.

“I’m sorry I was late,” she said.

“Not a problem. Gave me enough time to find a place to sit.”

“How’s the dating going?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

She smiled and raised her glass. They toasted silently, maybe wishing the same thing.

“You’re much taller than I expected,” she said.

“Six one, like it says in my profile.”

“Yes, but most men lie about their height.”

“I’m not ‘most men.’”

“I’ve noticed.” She touched his arm.

He was surprised to feel a strange surge of electricity shoot through his body. It took him a minute to realize what it was. He shifted in his chair, trying to relieve the pressure in his pants. She smiled, as if knowing the effect she had caused.

Her pink nail traced his arm all the way to the back of his hand. When she reached the cuff of his shirt, she pulled it up a little and checked the time. He figured she was also checking his watch. He was glad he had decided to wear his better Omega.

“Don’t you think it’s too hot here?” she asked, almost whispering, leaning toward him as if she were confiding a great secret.

“Would you like to go somewhere else?” he asked, feeling the need to oblige.

“I have a better idea.” She got up from her chair and grabbed his hand.

He pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of his money clip and left it under his drink, then followed her outside. He hoped they would be alone in the elevator, but at the last moment a well-dressed fifty-something man joined them.

He nodded and said, “Good evening. Beautiful night out there.” His voice was deep. He had a southern drawl.

“Yes it is,” Eva said, inching closer to Tyler. She wrapped her arm around his and kissed his neck, biting lightly and leaving a wet spot with her tongue.

They reached the seventeenth floor, and Eva took his hand and led him through a long, dark hallway to a burgundy door with the number 1709 in an Asian-style script.

“It’s simpler to get a room when I come to the city. That way I don’t have to drive back to the South Bay late at night,” she explained when she saw his confused look.

She inserted the key card into the lock, the green light flashed three times, and the door clicked open. The light was on. The room was spacious. The bed was made, but one corner was turned down, and there was a tiny chocolate on the pillow. A small carry-on luggage rested against the sofa.

Eva turned the lights off but went to the windows and opened the heavy curtains. There was just enough light coming in from the city to make out the room. Tyler caught Eva’s coy smile. He stood there just inside the door, watching her. She started walking toward him really slowly, watching him back.

She got close but not quite close enough to touch him. He could smell the sweet fragrance of petunias on her. She placed her hand on his chest, her pink nails wandering sensually toward his belt. His blood was pulsing. His pants tightened.

Eva pulled in closer to him. Her lips were slightly parted. She moistened them with the tip of her tongue. He shivered, and goose bumps covered his entire body. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her toward him. He kissed her, not using his tongue but instead tasting her lip, biting it a little, without pain. She kissed him back, bit him harder. He felt a sting, but it also made him want her more.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed. The city lights reflected on her hair. Her eyes invited him to join her. But he just stood there, silently watching her from above. Eva’s blouse had shifted, revealing the top of her lacy, black bra. Her skirt had hiked up enough to show the garter’s clasp. He crawled on the bed, then on top of her, careful not to touch her body. She arched her back. Her eyes were locked on his while her hands unclasped his belt and then she begun to tease him.

Tyler touched her breasts over the blouse, and finally slid his hand under the bra. They weren’t double Ds but fit perfectly in his large hand. He pinched the erect nipple roughly. She gasped. Eva hiked his shirt without undoing the buttons and kissed his toned chest, slowly moving downwards, leaving a wet trace behind. She rolled on top of him. Then she took his penis in her mouth and teased the tip with her tongue. She sucked, bobbing her head up and down. He was so hard he thought he would come, but then she stopped.

Eva looked at him, licking her lips, as if she had just enjoyed the most exquisite dessert. He almost came just watching her do that. She teased him again with her tongue. He propped the pillow underneath his head so he could watch her looking back at him. Then, instead of finishing him off with her mouth, Eva sat on top of his chest, bent forward and kissed him, long and hard, her tongue exploring every inch of his mouth. He felt his penis stiffen even more. She stopped kissing him as abruptly as she had started and before he knew what she was going to do next, she sat on his face. Eva was wearing no underwear.

He explored her. He licked up and down her labia, found her clitoris and bit it slightly. She twitched. She was really wet. He drank from her, sucked and penetrated her with his tongue as far as he could reach. She rocked slightly back and forth. He worked on her clit, licking around it, circling it faster and faster. Then he closed his lips and sucked, creating a vacuum, and rubbed the clitoris with his tongue. Her body tensed and her muscles shuddered until she came hard, grabbing the headboard and letting out a scream of release.

He fought hard against his own urge to come, hearing her and feeling her orgasm wetting his face. As soon as she was done, she took him in her mouth again and sucked for a couple of seconds until he came in her mouth. She swallowed and licked her lips again.