Sullivan's Justice (18 page)

Motive—well, motive wasn’t a problem. From what Neil had said, he’d been in love with Laurel Goodwin. If the woman sitting next to him had found out . . . His eyes wandered to her pink sweater. The material was clinging to her small breasts. He could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra because he could see her nipples. She reminded him of the Hilton sisters—rich, young, skinny, and spoiled rotten. “Where were you last night? Were you with Neil?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Melody placed her hand on his thigh.

Something sparkled and the detective looked down. She was wearing what had to be a five-carat emerald on her left hand, letting prospective suitors know she was single in a big way. Her manicured pink fingernails even matched her sweater. Delectable decadence, he thought, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road. At that moment, he didn’t care if she was a killer. What he wanted to do was lick her like an ice-cream cone. He inhaled her perfume, knowing it was permeating the fabric in his jacket. It had an orange scent to it. No, he thought, taking another sniff. Maybe it was chocolate or vanilla. Mary used to wear the same thing. She said it was called Angel. Mary was a knockout, but this girl could get a rise out of a corpse.

“We can do this nicely,” Hank said firmly, “or I can drag your pretty little ass down to the station.”

“Look at you,” she cooed, “this police work has you ready to explode. Some extracurricular activity never hurt anyone. Wanna have some fun?”

“Cool it!” Hank shouted, more for his sake than hers. He had to keep a professional demeanor. He coughed. “How long have you been seeing . . . ah . . . sleeping with Neil Sullivan?”

“About a year,” Melody said, placing her hand back in her lap. “Those artist types are great lovers. Neil was too good for a quickie.”

“Did you know Laurel Goodwin?”

“Is that really the question you want to ask me?” she said, spreading her left leg in the car seat as she turned to face him. “You want to know if I killed her, don’t you?”

Hank saw the seductive smile on her face. Her straight white teeth were gleaming. She was stalling, he thought. She wanted him to beg for the answer. “Well, did you?”

“Of course not,” Melody said emphatically. “I only kill people when I’m on-camera. I’m an actress, in case you don’t know.” She placed her hands behind her neck and sighed. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, take me back to my car. If not, I’m going to call my attorney.”

Hank made a U-turn and returned to Carolyn’s house. Melody didn’t seem to be the jealous type. At least not to the extent that she’d kill off the competition. With her looks and money, she could have anyone she wanted. She wasn’t their murderer. The woman was so bored, she looked as if she were about to fall asleep. The question was whether or not she could provide him with incriminating information about Carolyn’s brother. “Do you think Neil is okay mentally? You know, could he have gone off his rocker and murdered his girlfriend?”

Melody’s face shifted into hard lines. In no time, her self-control surfaced and she flashed another seductive smile. “Neil’s always been unstable. That’s the way I like them. It’s exciting in a way. You ever had a crazy girl, Detective? You know, someone who’ll do you like you’ve never been done before. Something about being on the edge of sanity lets the sexual predator free. Neil never held back.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a one-track mind?” Hank said, sick of her sexual innuendos. “Try giving me a straight answer. Could he have killed Laurel Goodwin?”

Melody looked him straight in the eye. “Sure.”

 

 

 

 

 

T
he Moreno sentencing was uneventful. Because of the incident with Brad, Raphael Moreno was not present in the courtroom. He watched the proceedings on closed-circuit TV.

After advising the county operator to forward her calls, Carolyn went to Brad’s office. Sitting down at his desk, she picked up a stack of files from his in basket. Only seven cases, she thought. Covering for him would be easy. Pulling out a roster of probation officers, she read through a chart listing the cases that had already been assigned. She looked up when someone entered the room.

“What happened to Preston?” a female clerk with short red hair asked, removing a large stack of file folders. “Someone said an inmate at the jail broke his back. Is that true?”

“Not exactly,” Carolyn said, watching as the woman placed the files in her basket. She quickly counted them. She’d just received seventeen new cases to assign. “Is this abnormal?” she asked. “You know, are there always this many cases?”

“Nah,” she said. “This is nothing. Twenty is average. Sometimes it’s as high as thirty.”

Carolyn’s mouth fell open. “Every day?”

“You got it,” the clerk said. “It’s probably light today because of the holiday.”

Carolyn placed her head in her hands. She should have found out what was involved before she agreed to take over Brad’s position. What if Wilson was wrong and Brad didn’t return to work for six weeks? She’d have to analyze each officer’s workload, as well as their abilities. In addition, she had to read every report and approve the officers’ recommendations before they submitted them. Brad made decisions in an instant. She was far more meticulous. Dealing with people’s lives was serious business.

Seeing Brad wasn’t that important, Carolyn thought, feeling overwhelmed. He had his racing-car buddies and his girlfriends. It was Christmas Eve. She needed to spend time with Paul and her children. She’d give Brad another day, hoping he could pick up some of the work while he was recovering. She wanted to do a good job. If she screwed things up, she’d jeopardize her chances of being promoted.

Carolyn called Vincent Bernini’s office and spoke with his secretary. The woman informed her not to expect a response until after the holiday. Stuffing as many files as she could into her briefcase, she decided to go home and make an attempt to salvage Christmas.

 

 

At a few minutes past eight that evening, Carolyn, John, Rebecca, and Paul’s thirteen-year-old daughter, Lucy, were gathered around the Christmas tree. After his confrontation with Melody and the media that morning, Neil had taken off to spend the night at their mother’s place in Camarillo. The police had impounded the Ferrari and he wasn’t allowed back on his property to pick up the van. Paul lent him his extra car, an older blue BMW.

The kids didn’t want to wait until Christmas morning to open their presents. The floor was littered with wrapping paper and boxes.

Rebecca held up a red sweater trimmed with fake fur. “This is adorable, Mom,” she said, putting it on to see if it fit.

“Most of the things you buy me are hideous.” Inside another box were matching red ankle boots.

Carolyn had given John a used laptop computer. “I really needed this,” he said, walking over and kissing her on the cheek. “Are we going to get DSL now?”

“No,” his mother said, sinking into the sofa. No matter what she gave her kids, they always wanted more. Lucy never asked for anything. When Carolyn had pointed this out to Rebecca, her daughter hissed at her, like a cat confronting a dog, “Why would she? She has everything. She even has her own American Express card.”

Carolyn turned her attention back to her son. “You’re lucky I found a computer I could afford. DSL would cost five hundred dollars a year. That’s more than our budget allows. Maybe when you get a job.”

Their meal had been wonderful. Isobel, Paul’s live-in housekeeper, had made turkey with all the trimmings, along with two homemade pies, one chocolate and the other pecan. Around nine, Lucy asked Rebecca to spend the night. John had already made plans to stay with his friend Turner Highland.

Once the girls were in bed and the trash collected, Paul walked over and embraced her. “Why don’t we go to your place?” he said, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. “Your kids aren’t there. We’ll have the house to ourselves.”

Carolyn frowned. “You know how I feel about that, Paul. We can’t make love at my house. John or Rebecca might come home for some reason and walk in on us. We have to be even more careful now that John drives.”

“Calm down,” he said. “I won’t mention it again. We’ll go to my place in Pasadena. If we leave right away, we should be there in an hour. We can spend the night and come back early tomorrow morning. The girls have already opened their gifts. Lucy told me they were going to sleep in.”

Carolyn was more than ready for an evening of pleasure. Unnoticed even by herself, she was stroking the bottom of her bra with her thumb. It had been too long. “What are we going to tell Isobel?”

“Come on, honey,” Paul said, scowling. “You act like we’re teenagers.” He took her hand and led her into the kitchen. “We’re going for a drive, Isobel. If you need to reach us, call me on my cell phone.”

“What?” she said, placing her hands on her ample hips. “I just had the phone turned back on at the Pasadena house.”

Carolyn’s face flushed in embarrassment. She ducked behind Paul. Isobel had been with the professor for nineteen years. She was the boss of the house and didn’t mind voicing her opinion. Having recently turned sixty, she was a tall, wiry black woman with a mind almost as sharp as her employer’s. Just like Paul and his daughter, Carolyn had come to think of her as a second mother. How did she know they were going to Pasadena?

“What you hiding for, woman?” Isobel asked her. “You think I don’t know what you two are up to? Wish I wasn’t so old or I’d get me some loving. Now get on out of here before I make you clean up the dishes.”

 

 

Pacing the floor in her bra and panties, Melody breathed shallowly. She tipped the bottle of scotch. Finding it empty, she let it fall onto the floor. Her life was out of control and there was no one to help her. Nobody to hold her and make the pain go away.

Going to the penthouse level, which she called her viewing room, she removed a large box. Inside were two smaller boxes. One contained Lego pieces, and the other held a silver charm bracelet. Her real name was inscribed on the heart-shaped charm—Jessica Graham.

Jeremy was dead.

The charm bracelet was Jeremy’s last gift on that terrible night before Christmas. She had worshipped her brother. He was the only one who had truly loved her. Melody and Jeremy were more than just siblings, they were best friends. He was her stability in an unstable and emotionally deprived childhood. Eighteen long years had passed since his death. Her eyes welled up with tears. Alone, she thought to herself. Alone on Christmas Eve once again.

Every year, she pulled out the bracelet and held it in her hands. Rubbing the shiny silver heart with her index finger and thumb made her feel as if Jeremy were still alive. He’d promised to buy her more charms. Each time she looked at the heart, though, she was also reminded that there wouldn’t be any more. Her father had taken him away from her. The police told her that he’d cut out Jeremy’s heart in an attempt to save him. When her father shot her mother in a blind rage, Jeremy was caught in the cross fire. Her brother died trying to protect their mother.

She dumped the Lego pieces out, sobbing as she began building a castle. Unlike their last night together, she had all the pieces. As soon as she finished, she stood and kicked out, scattering the pieces across the room. Her life was broken. Like the castle, every time she rebuilt it, it was repeatedly knocked down. Staggering across the room, she tripped on the wastebasket and almost fell.

Her attachment to Neil had grown strong. Because he was such a wonderful brother to Carolyn, she had begun to see him as an older version of Jeremy. Her brother had always looked out for her, protected her when her mother went on a binge, listened to her fears and dreams. She had thought Neil could step in where Jeremy had left off and find a way to heal her shattered heart.

Like everyone else, Neil had abandoned her. The only ones who stayed with her were the men who were after her money. She could spot them before they opened their mouths. When she was younger, she’d let them take advantage of her. Now she insisted that they treat her as they would any other woman. If they invited her to dinner, they paid the bill. When they traveled together, they split everything down the middle. If they complained, she told them to get lost. Why should she foot the bill just because she was wealthy? She wasn’t anyone’s damn meal ticket.

Melody hated the closeness between Carolyn and Neil. Jealousy of their relationship raged deep in her soul. In many ways, Carolyn was what she could have become if not for the tragedy that had taken her brother and destroyed her family.

Neil spoke of the hours he and Carolyn spent together. His sister was always there for him, and he for her. Why did he need to be with his sister and her children so much? His priorities were all screwed up. He needed to spend more time with her.

The Sullivans were a perfect family, something Melody would never have. Even their mother was smart. Marie Sullivan held a master’s degree in chemistry. The father had died, but they still had warm memories of him.

Melody’s childhood had been lonely and tainted by violence. She squatted down on the plush carpeting again. Tears fell from her eyes as she picked up the Lego pieces and placed them back in the box. Her mother had staggered through each day in an alcohol-induced haze. Her father had been a good man, a doctor. That all changed the night he’d shot her mother and brother. He was then sentenced to prison for thirty years. She didn’t communicate with him. How could she? He had tried to blame everything on her. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t have a father. He’d gone to prison and eventually he would be released. She would never be released. She’d been sentenced to a life of misery, sleeping next to the demons that continually taunted her.