Deadly Intersections (10 page)

“But that’s an historic building,” Ari argued. “I mean it’s horrible what happened to that little girl, but that’s not the school’s fault. The city should do a better job keeping people out of there.”

“You mean the police,” she clarified. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Well, maybe there should be more police presence,” Ari said slowly.

“I see. It would be better for the cops to be out patrolling vacant, abandoned buildings, which by the way are unsafe for humans to inhabit, rather than following up on rapes and murders. That makes sense.”

“That’s not what I mean, honey. C’mon, I’m not even thinking about what I’m saying here. I’m getting ready for an evening with my father. Cut me some slack, please?”

She felt her anger sliding away, but instead of letting go, instead of turning toward the warmth and friendliness of her voice, she pulled the confrontation back between them.

She glanced back to her office. Jack was checking his voice mail on his BlackBerry. “So are you finally going to tell your father about us tonight?” she asked with resentment.

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I want to tell him about you, but we need to talk about other stuff first. There’s so much in our past—”

“What about the
present
? Isn’t that what’s most important? Am I important?”

“Of course you’re important. You just don’t understand.”

She could hear the frustration in Ari’s voice, but she was tired of being the invisible girlfriend. “I guess I don’t. I thought when you said
I love you
it meant something.”

“Of course it means something,” Ari replied, her voice cracking.

“Well, I’m not so sure.”

When Ari was silent and offered no further protests, she felt her anxieties wrap around her gut. She opened her mouth, knowing she’d gone too far.

“I’m rather sorry I called,” Ari said icily, cutting off her chance for an apology. “This is obviously not a good time. Maybe we could talk tomorrow.”

She closed her eyes in defeat, understanding the double message. Ari was hurt, and she didn’t want them to spend the night together. 

“Fine,” she whispered.

She snapped her cell phone shut and shook her head. Why did she pick a fight?

She returned to her office just as Jack was standing to go. “I’m sorry that took so long.”

He waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I remember those days. I need to get going anyway. I’m meeting my daughter for dinner. Maybe we could grab a drink at Oaxaca sometime,” he suggested, referring to the nearby cop watering hole.

“That would be great,” she said brightly. If Ari ever managed to reveal their relationship to Jack, she imagined the three of them could share some laughs.

He left and her eyes drifted to her messy desk and the day’s newspaper that lay in front of her. Ironically she was connected with both of the top stories—the murder of Maria Perez and the suicide of Warren Edgington. She’d gained one case and lost the other. She grabbed Edgington’s autopsy report and scanned it. Traces of pills and alcohol had been found in his system. His wife had admitted that she was thinking of divorce after discovering he’d had an affair with a mystery woman that the police couldn’t seem to locate.

She frowned. She hated loose ends, but people caught up in affairs took many steps to hide their identities.
Still, there was that key with the red and white twist-ties. A key to the lover’s house or apartment?
Probably a dead end. Yet Ari wasn’t totally convinced it was suicide. She rubbed her temples. She needed to let it go.

She picked up the newspaper again and gazed at a picture of Edgington with his family on their yacht, smiling and content, obviously all a sham.

The wealth and luxuriousness of the Edgingtons’ lives contrasted to the simple school photo of Maria Perez just a few columns away on the front page. Such vastly different existences. It was clear the newspaper preferred writing about the tragedy of a depressed businessman who had everything to lose rather than the death of a little Hispanic girl whose family had gang ties.

She sighed in disgust and pulled out the spreadsheet of addresses. Somewhere among all the numbers was a key to a department mole, someone who was a leak and working for a crime family. She studied Andre’s notes, realizing that many of the upscale addresses were owned by corporations. These probably warranted more scrutiny.

Andre knocked on the door ten minutes later, interrupting her progress. The look on his face told her something was wrong. 

“What?” Molly asked.

“I went back to Selena Diaz’s house to ask about the science fair, but she wasn’t there.”

Molly shrugged her shoulders. “So she wasn’t home. You’ll go back tomorrow.”

“No, Mol. That’s not what I mean. They’re
gone
. The whole family’s left.”

When Ari spilled her morning coffee all over a contract after she’d stubbed her toe on the credenza, she looked longingly at her bed. The Egyptian sheets and feather pillows called to her, tempting her to give up on the day and crawl back under the covers. She could easily rationalize that she should heed these omens. Instead she carefully cleaned up the mess, calculating that re-writing the contract would consume an extra hour from somewhere in her day.

She realized she was in a foul mood because of the fight with Molly. She had slept alone on a night they traditionally shared, and it was her own doing. She’d been angry and wanted to punish her. She’d punished herself as well. But Molly had said some cruel things to her, and although she’d come very close to mentioning their relationship at dinner with her father, she’d side-stepped the issue.

She thought about the initial awkwardness of the evening with him, which was why she had chosen Bacchanal, a Greek restaurant with belly dancers and performers. Discussing the finer points of belly dancing had definitely broken the ice and given them plenty of conversation openings.

After several rounds of Ouzo, he’d asked loudly, “Who’s the love of your life?”

“I’m not going to discuss it,” she said.

She’d glanced over at Sol, her godfather and Molly’s highest-ranking boss, who watched the exchange between them. 

Jack leaned closer. “I’m not asking for details, honey. I just want to know that you’re happy.”

“Of course she’s happy,” Sol interjected, slapping Jack on the back. “Why wouldn’t she be? She’s young, gorgeous and incredible at her job.” He raised his glass in salute. “Ari, darling, if I’d had any daughters, I hope they all would’ve been just like you.”

She blushed. Sol had fathered three boys, all of whom were highly successful. In fact before Ari had come out, Sol and Jack had regularly tried to set her up with Sol’s youngest son.

“Look,” Jack pressed, “I just know that it sucks being alone. It’s important to find someone. That’s all.”

She was touched by his sentiment, and the words nearly fell from her lips, but a belly dancer twirled to their table and pulled Jack away to dance. She wasn’t surprised when the woman wrapped her arms around his neck and thrust her chest in his face. All women were charmed by Jack Adams, but she’d never seen him flirt with anyone except her mother.

“I understand why you’re waiting to tell him, Ari. I think you’re doing the right thing,” Sol said while Jack danced. “You need to do this in your own way.”

She smiled weakly. “Thanks for understanding, Sol. I wish Molly could.”

“Are you guys okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, but she’s really upset about her case. She hates it when kids are the victims.”

“Don’t we all,” he said.

They both watched Jack shake and shimmy with the dancer. At one point she pushed him onto a floor cushion, removed his shoes and tied his socks together. When he stood to dance, the crowd roared and clapped.

Overall she thought the night was a success as she pulled into the parking lot for her Tuesday morning ritual with Jane. She sighed when she saw the line snaking out the door of Java’s. She was due to meet Stan Wertz in forty-five minutes. She scanned the couches and chairs and found Jane deeply engaged in conversation with a seductive brunette dressed in an expensive suit. The two of them could have been twins, their dark hair, perfect makeup and expensive jewelry separating them from the middleclass mocha latté drinkers surrounding them.

She wandered through the crowd and caught Jane’s attention. The brunette turned around, and she realized she was staring at Laurel Jeffries, the new six o’clock anchor for Channel                Fifteen and Jane’s most needy client. Jane waved at Ari and pointed to a large coffee setting on the coffee table in front of them.

“Thank you,” she said with relief, taking the cup.

“Ari, this is Laurel Jeffries.”

Laurel smiled and raised her own coffee in salute. Ari joined them hesitantly, sensing she was interrupting something.

“Have you found a house yet, Laurel?”

Laurel beamed at Jane and patted her knee. “Jane says she has the perfect place for me. We’re going there today after I do the mid-morning news.”

“Great,” Ari said.

“Where’s Molly?” Jane asked.

Her cheeks reddened as she sipped her coffee. “She couldn’t come. She’s busy with her big case.”

“What case is that?” Laurel asked with her journalistic curiosity.

“She’s working the Maria Perez murder.” She figured that much would be common knowledge soon.

“Do they have any leads?” Laurel pressed. “I mean it’s just so horrible.”

She shrugged knowing that to say anymore would guarantee she spent the rest of her nights without Molly in her bed.

Laurel checked her watch and stood. “Well, I have to go. Ari, it was a pleasure, and Jane, I’ll see you in a few hours.” Laurel blew Jane a kiss and departed with her latté in hand.

Ari noticed a little grin spreading across Jane’s face as she watched Laurel’s perfect ass sway out the door. Jane faced her, and she chuckled.

“What?” Jane cried.

She laughed. “I take it you and the TV lady are getting along?”

“What are you suggesting? Laurel and I have a highly professional relationship. The fact that we share the same incredible taste in fashion, know all of the best wine bars in the valley and believe that post-Modern art is a travesty, doesn’t mean that I want to take her to bed. That would be violating my long-standing rule about screwing clients.”

She patted her knee. “Sweetie, you can’t claim to have a rule if you’re always breaking it.”

Jane considered this while she stirred her coffee. “Then I guess it’s a guideline. That allows me
some
flexibility, right?” Her eyes narrowed. “Now really, where is Molly? She’s always here on Tuesday morning.”

She lowered her eyes and blinked away tears. “We had a fight.” She looked around the crowded room and shook her head. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now, okay?”

Jane squeezed her hand with her finely manicured fingers. “Okay. But you do need to tell me about dinner with your father. How did that go?”

“It was fine. He wants to see you.”

“We’ll all do lunch. I’m free today.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I’m not. I’m previewing houses for the slimiest man I’ve ever met.”

Jane clapped her hands. “Okay, it’s time for coffee catharsis.”

She grinned at the mention of their favorite game where they discussed new clients they’d acquired or complained about the ones who drove them nuts.

“I won’t even talk about Laurel today,” Jane said. “I’m certain she’ll love the listing I’m showing her later. What’s new with you?”

“I got a new client. Biz.”

Jane’s perfectly shadowed eyes widened, and her blood red lips parted in amazement. “Biz Stone is your client? How did that happen?”

She shrugged. “She walked in yesterday afternoon around four. She wants to buy a loft.”

Jane carefully set the coffee stirrer onto the napkin. When she looked up, her face was devoid of all humor. “And do you really think it’s going to help your relationship with Molly when she finds out that you’re working with Biz?”

She leaned back in the chair, unable to argue. “I can’t explain it, Jane. She’s very persuasive, and it’s a ton of money.”

“That’s never been a motivation for you, Ari, and you know it. You need to be honest with yourself even if you can’t be honest with me.”

“I am being honest. I want to work with Biz and Molly needs to get over it. If we really have a future, she’s going to have to learn to trust me.” Jane didn’t respond immediately, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Say something.”

Jane took a deep breath and met her gaze. “That speech would be far more impressive if you trusted yourself. But you don’t. And you shouldn’t. Not when it comes to Biz.” She squeezed her hand. “Be careful, sweetie. You’re up in a very high tree and out on a shaky limb and there’s not a cute firewoman in sight to catch you when you fall.”

Ari’s stomach flip-flopped as she pulled up to Stan Wertz’s Day Arbor house, but she smiled at the inviting front yard and the shrubbery that framed the exterior. It was so pleasant and screamed curbside appeal. She noticed Lorraine’s sign was already up, doubting it would take very long for an offer to arrive. She headed to the door realizing that she disliked him almost as much as she liked his home. Lorraine had sensed her hesitation to work with him, but it was clear she wanted the deal to happen for both of them.