i 9fb2c9db4068b52a (32 page)

“Yes, I think it does,” Jovanic agreed. “I may have to arrest you yet.” He was being playful, but she suddenly felt as if cold water had been dashed in her face. “I think I had enough of handcuffs at Lindsey’s dungeon.”

Reaching across the table, he squeezed her hand. “Those photos really got to you, didn’t they.”

“Yeah, they did. They explained so much about Lindsey’s behavior. Between her brother and Preston Sommerfield... they just about destroyed everything good in her.”

“Sommerfield is high on the suspect list. He wasn’t on Lindsey’s spreadsheet, but we know she blackmailed him.” He picked up his fork and ate a couple of bites of baked potato, pushed a chunk of meat around on his plate.
Fidgeting.
He laid the fork on his plate and cleared his throat.

“Claudia, uh, there’s something I want to say, and I’m, uh...” He glanced away, made a quick visual sweep of the room. She wasn’t sure if he was checking his surroundings out of habit, or doing it to avoid looking at her. Then his eyes met her gaze and held it. “I know it’s cliché, but this is the truth... you’re not like any woman I’ve ever been involved with.”

She stared at him in surprise.

“I know guys say shit like that, but this isn’t a pickup line. Talking to you is like... talking to someone at work... no, wait,” he protested, coloring up when she couldn’t help laughing. “I mean, you’re easy to be with. I don’t have to watch what I’m saying all the time. I...” He trailed off, color suffusing his cheeks.

Claudia smiled gently. “Because a conversation about blood and guts over dinner doesn’t upset me?”

Jovanic ran his hand through his hair, struggling to vocalize his feelings. “Okay, what I’m saying pretty badly is, you’re really special. This past couple of weeks has been rough on you. I know that. Not everyone would handle it as well as you have.”

It wasn’t what she’d expected, and she was deeply touched, recognizing how hard it was for him to say what he’d said. She wanted to go around the table and put her lips to his ear, whisper reassurances; she wanted to show him how much it meant to her, too—to be with someone who understood and accepted her—someone who didn’t complain about all the hours she spent working, or that she talked too much shop.

She reached across the table and laid her hand on his. He took her hand and turned it over, pressing his lips to her palm, a silent promise.

“Please don’t call me here again,” Yolande Palomino said urgently in a low voice. “There’s nothing more I can tell you.” The line went dead.

Damn!

Yolande’s home number was unpublished and Claudia had no other way to get in touch with her short of trying to catch her on her way to work. Pulling out the computer keyboard drawer, she keyed in the password to access her e-mail; cheered when no new threats popped up on the list. Maybe her pursuer, whoever he was, realized there was nothing to gain by intimidating her.

She ran through the list again. Heidt? Bostwick? Flannery? Someone else? Not knowing was driving her crazy.

Jovanic might be precluded from actively investigating the case, but Claudia wasn’t. She picked up the phone and dialed.

When she entered the Bostwick medical suite, she was greeted with a big, plastic smile.

“Good afternoon,” said the woman who looked like Donna Reed. “How may I help you?”

“I have an appointment with Doctor Bostwick. Claudia Rose.”

The smile faded as recognition dawned. “But... I don’t under... uh...” Donna Reed fixed an anxious stare on her computer screen, checking the appointments. “Why... yes, here you are... but... for a consultation? I thought... I thought you... that detective...”

Claudia patted her flat abdomen. “I’m considering liposuction, and since doctor Bostwick is the best... well, the appointment secretary had a last-minute cancellation, so here I am.”
It must have been fate.
At least, that’s how Claudia justified it in her own mind. Jovanic would probably have disagreed.

Donna Reed looked doubtful, but the lady had an appointment and she couldn’t argue with that. She ushered Claudia into a small private waiting room. Oak paneling, dark leather side chairs. You could almost smell the pipe smoke. A brag wall chronicled doctor Bostwick’s successes. Tastefully arranged gold-leaf framed certificates: Degrees and diplomas, framed articles and photos. An eight-by-ten black-and-white glossy: a young doctor Bostwick, shaking hands with then-President Richard Nixon; the same handsome features, but white-haired now, glad-handing governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. Bostwick must be a major campaign contributor to get so close to the top.
Did he put money into Bryce Heidt’s campaign?
Jovanic could probably find out easily enough.

“You!” Framed in the doorway, Bostwick suddenly seemed larger than life. “What are you doing here? I told you everything over the phone.” Behind the granny glasses, his eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “Frances said you were a consult.”

“Oh, but I am,” said Claudia, faking innocence. “Do you think liposuction would be a good idea for me?

“If you’re here about liposuction, I’m Santa Claus.”

Claudia’s smile was a mile shy of sincere. “Oh, doctor, is that how you dress up these days? You were wearing considerably less than a Santa suit when I saw you last.”

Bostwick rounded the door in a flash, closing it sharply enough to rattle windows. “What do you think you’re doing, coming here with your veiled insinuations?”

“Let’s take the veils off. Your home movies might not win any Oscars, but I’m sure, if the tabloids got hold...” The small room shrank as Bostwick moved forward, thrusting his face close enough to catch a whiff of his lunchtime tuna melt. “Are you threatening me? Because if you are...”

“If I am, then what? You’ll get rid of me like you did Lindsey?”

“Like I did Lindsey?” He backed off, glaring at her. “What are you talking about?”

Claudia wagged her finger at him, feigning coolness. “Come off it, doctor, she was blackmailing you and you got tired of it.”

He didn’t even try to deny it. “She committed suicide, remember?”

“The cops know she was blackmailing you. Don’t you think they’ll put two and two together? Maybe even exhume her body?”

“Don’t be ridiculous; they wouldn’t find anything.” Bostwick spoke bravely, but he plucked a crisp linen handkerchief from his pocket with a trembling hand and swiped it across his forehead where beads of sweat had begun to gather. “I won’t deny I was glad when I heard she was dead. I thought the extortion was finally over, but... wait a minute... aren’t
you
with the police?”

Claudia ignored the question. “What about the boyfriend you told me about? Was that for real?”

He removed his glasses, slipped them into his lab coat pocket and turned away, rubbing at his eyes. “I didn’t
do
anything.”

“You supplied her with drugs for those little parties in the desert.”

Bostwick stiffened. All at once, he spun around, lunged at her. She pushed back, but she was no match for his weight and strength. He drove her hard against the wall, knocking the breath out of her.

“You bitch!” he cried in a low voice, clutching at her silk blouse. Pearl buttons flew in every direction as his hands fumbled her body. “You
bitch
! Are you wearing a wire?”

Grunting, Claudia twisted out of his grasp and sprang for the door. For all his bulk, Bostwick was faster.

“Get out of my way!” Claudia shouted, throwing herself against him, elbow first.

Bostwick stumbled, but kept himself between her and the door. As he righted himself she saw that his face was the shade of an overripe tomato; a vein throbbed wildly in his temple. “I’m through paying,” he panted. “You won’t get a goddamn dime out of me!” Without warning, his hands were on her throat, hot and heavy, squeezing. She clawed at his fingers, trying to scream, but his grip tightened on her windpipe until she couldn’t breathe.

“Doctor? Doctor, is everything all right?” There was a timid knock on the door.
“Doctor?”

Bostwick released his grasp, staring at Claudia as if coming out of a dream. She fell back against the wall, gasping, greedily sucking air.

“Go away!” the doctor shouted at the door, his voice shaky. “Everything’s fine.”

He looked down at his hands, which were trembling like those of a very old, sick man, as if he didn’t understand how they came to be appended to his arms.

Claudia’s throat hurt and the skin of her neck burned. Her knees wanted to fold, and only her back plastered to the wall prevented her from sliding to the floor. She pulled her tattered blouse closed, did her best to steady her breathing.

“I don’t want money,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I just want the truth. And I want the harassment stopped.”

He stared at her, nonplused. “What harassment?”

“My house has been broken into. I’ve been shot at. People have been killed. Did
you
send those lowlifes after me?”

“Why would I go after
you?
” He seemed genuinely perplexed. “I don’t even know you.”

“Because I had Lindsey’s videotapes from the desert. The police have them now.”

He stared at her for a long moment, desperation clouding the ice-blue eyes. “The
police
have them? My God, this will destroy me.” Slowly, he sank onto a chair and dropped his head into his hands. When his eyes found hers again, they were glazed with tears. “I didn’t do any of those things, I swear it.”

Was he telling the truth? He sounded so earnest.

Claudia edged toward the door, desperate to put some distance between herself and Bostwick. “If you cooperate with the police... tell them what you know... you might be able to make a deal, keep it out of the newspapers.”

“I had no idea she was videotaping the sessions until she invited me to her apartment and showed me the tape. She demanded the drugs as payment.” He shook his head in despair, his eyes downcast. “Why should I have to go through this? I didn’t hurt anyone.”

Claudia opened the consulting room door. “Like I said, doctor, make your deal with the police. Who knows, you might come out looking like a hero, if you can give them something they don’t already have.” She massaged her bruised throat. “And as a bonus, I’ll think about not having you charged with assault.”

For a brief instant he looked cheered. “Would you talk to that detective for me? If you’d put in a good word, I could do something in return for you.” He looked at her, appraising, a spark of the old fire flickering. “A breast reduction, or... or I could do something with your nose or...” As if she’d let him near her with a knife.

“Do you think I need a nose job?”

“What?” Jovanic threw a questioning glance over the tops of his sunglasses.

“My nose... do you think it’s too big?” The day after her visit to Bostwick, his offer of cosmetic surgery still rankled.

“No, Claudia, I don’t.” He sized her up with healthy skepticism. “I don’t suppose this sudden interest in plastic surgery wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain doctor who just happened to show up at Wilshire Division?”

Claudia gave him a look of surprise. She’d decided to keep her visit to Bostwick to herself, and she wore a scarf to cover the marks his fingers had left on her throat. “Bostwick turned himself in?”

“Very interesting how he seemed to know what we had on him. Lo and behold, he suddenly decides he should help the investigation. In exchange for a consideration, of course.”

Claudia tried to look innocent. “That day we were there, you came down pretty hard on him. He must have realized you weren’t bluffing.”

“Well, thanks to the doctor, I’m back on the investigation.” Jovanic hefted two of Lindsey’s boxes into his arms and carried them down Claudia’s front steps, which were still damp from the morning dew.

She followed, jamming her hands in her pockets against the nippy early morning breeze coming in from the ocean. “You’re joking. How did
that
happen?”

“Bostwick showed up demanding to speak with me and only me. Not that he loves me, you understand; damage control. Involve as few people as possible. My guess is, he leaned on the chief.”

“But you said someone wanted you
off
the case.”

“Being a big mucky-muck in the community doesn’t hurt.”

“What’s he offering?”

“He’ll cop to writing illegal prescriptions and get a slap on the wrist.”

“What a foul bastard he is.”

Claudia unlocked the Jeep for him and opened the back door. He shoved the boxes inside and turned to her. “There’s something else... we got a break in Ivan’s case. They lifted a good palm print and a partial thumb from the stairwell.”

“A lot of people must have gone up and down those stairs and left prints.”

“How many of them had Ivan’s blood on their hand?”

“Good point.” She tipped her head to one side, contemplating. “I wonder if he’s the one who attacked Destiny and me.”

“They’re running the prints. If he has a record, we’ll get a name.”

“He would have had to get medical attention somewhere. I know his arm was broken,” Claudia said. “Hey, if Bostwick hired him, he could have gone to him for treatment... nah, that would mean either Bostwick is behind all the attacks, or there’s some kind of conspiracy. I don’t think it’s him.”

“Why not?”

“The guy comes on strong, but he’s basically a wimp. You know how bullies are. When you stand up to them, they back down.”

“You sure know a lot about the guy after just one meeting,” Jovanic remarked, fixing her with a suspicious stare.

She turned to close the Jeep’s door so she wouldn’t have to face him. “Oh, I got a look at some of his handwriting that day we went to his office. Sharp angles all over the place; strong right slant; super-heavy pressure plus red pen. It all adds up to angry man with short fuse. Still, it just doesn’t seem likely behavior for him. He’s more direct.”

“He would have hired someone to do the dirty work.”

“Maybe, but I don’t really think so. Which brings us back to our favorite candidate.”