Night Hunter (39 page)

Less than an hour ago he had been bashed on the head, and he realized then that if someone was following him there was a strong possibility it was the same person. His heart hammered. He was curious to know who that person was, but not enough to risk, unarmed, another confrontation. He hurried on, looking back often. Minutes later he reached his apartment house. The sidewalk behind him was clear for as far as he could see.

Looking up to the second floor, he thought he saw a figure in the dark upstairs window of Regina’s apartment. He entered the building, climbed to the second floor, and knocked softly several times. When he received no response, he went down to his apartment and called her on the extension in his bedroom. After four rings the answering machine greeted him.

CHAPTER 2
6

John called Regina’s apartment at 7:30 that morning. Kristy informed him that Regina had already left for work. He called the station. After holding on the line for an interminable amount of time, she finally came on.

“
Hi,” he said softly

“
Hello.” Her tone was cool and businesslike.

“
Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back for dinner last night. Something unexpected came up and I had to take care of it.”

“
I understand,” she said flatly.

“
What time can you break away?”

“
I’m sorry. It’s impossible today.”

“
What do you mean? We have the butcher tape and—”

“
Can’t you do it without me?”

“
I can, yes, but I don’t want to. Regina, this is important. It won’t take long, I promise.”

A pause. Then, “All right. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

He hung up slowly, staring out the window. Her cool reception had him wondering if she now regretted the intimacy they had shared the night before. He’d made a promise to himself not to come on to her until she was ready. But the look, the smile she had given him as she stood at the stove, could have been interpreted only one way, and damnit, he had responded in kind. However, he sensed her reluctance to go with him today was an expression of anger rather than remorse. More than likely Kristy had mentioned the woman in his apartment or she had seen him walking Ilona home.

He’d decided not to tell her about the intruder. She was frightened enough as it was. So she would just have to think the worst. Trying to explain why Ilona was in his apartment, in his bathtub, wouldn’t be any easier.

After two cups of coffee and no breakfast, he showered and dressed. He paced for several minutes, then decided to go to the station instead of waiting. Deep down he was afraid she wouldn’t show.

The morning was overcast and chilly. He buried his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket and walked briskly, covering the six blocks in minutes. He found her car parked on Lombard, a block from the station. Leaning against it, he waited, watching the entrance.

At exactly 8:30 she came out of the building, walking briskly toward him. Her hair was up today. Loose tendrils of hair, from the dampness in the air, curled against her cheek and neck. She wore a gray, knee-length straight skirt, split up the front, a fuchsia V-neck sweater under a matching oversized cardigan, and gray pumps. A silver rope chain swung between her breasts as she walked.

She stopped to get something from her purse. John watched her, thinking how different she’d become since the first time he saw her outside the apartment building. Was the change entirely due to her new job as talk show hostess? He wanted to believe that his recent emergence into Regina’s life might have something to do with her sudden desire to play up her looks.

She pulled her mace key chain from her purse and resumed walking. When she spotted him, she seemed to waver slightly, then she continued to the car.

“
I thought I was to pick you up?” she asked, unlocking the door, not looking at him.

“
I need the exercise.”

She got in the car and unlocked the door.

John climbed in.

“
Where to?” she asked, starting the engine. Her gaze darted to the cut at his brow, but she said nothing.

He directed her to an area south of Market Street. They were both silent as she drove.

The Blue Ribbon Meat Company was a large gray building not far from the Mission District.

“
This doesn’t look like a butcher shop to me,” Regina said, parking.

“
It isn’t. It’s a wholesale place. Better for us. Now we can be relatively certain that someone didn’t pop in off the street for a pound of ground round. Whoever had that package probably buys their meat in bulk. Let’s find out if it’s Amelia Corde.”

They entered a door marked Office. The small room was empty. A button on the counter read. Ring Bell for Service.

John buzzed.

A middle-aged man with a pot belly and short legs pushed through a swinging door. “Help you?” he asked.

“
We’re interested in buying some beef.”

“
You with a market or a restaurant?”

“
Neither. It’s for private consumption. We’re looking to buy a hindquarter.”

“
Half’s the least amount we handle. Could sell you two hindquarters though.”

“
Then you do sell to the public?”

“
If it’s in bulk.”

“
Any chance of us trying a couple steaks before we make a decision.”

“
I’ll have to charge full price.”

“
Sounds fair. Two porterhouses. Thick.”

The man smiled, nodding. He pushed through a swinging door into the plant. Several minutes later he was back with a package in white butcher paper.

“
Came to a little more than two pounds. That’ll be — aw, what the heck, I’ll give it to you at wholesale price. Call it an introductory offer.”

“
Thanks,” John said paying for the meat. It wasn’t the discount that had his heart beating soundly, it was the tape with the little blue ribbons stamped an inch apart.

“
Friends of ours recommended Blue Ribbon,” Regina said. “The Cordes. Do you know the name?”

The man shook his head. “I don’t do the order taking or the billing. But tell them we appreciate the recommendation.”

Out on the sidewalk John handed the package to Regina. She looked at the tape, looked up at him, and for the first time since they met that morning, her eyes became bright. She smiled.

“
We know where the meat was purchased,” John said, “but we still don’t know by whom.”

“
I’ve been to Amelia’s house. There’s a freezer.” Regina said. “It’s in a utility room off the kitchen.”

“
Let’s go back home.” John took her arm and began walking. “There’s something I want to look into.”

A half hour later they were in John’s apartment. Regina sat in the rocker, her legs crossed. The split in the straight skirt exposed her leg to mid-thigh. John’s gaze kept returning to her legs as he paced the room, talking into the cordless phone. The nylons she wore were sheer, and he saw the white line of a small scar on the kneecap. He wondered how she had gotten it.

The information operator gave him the number for the Meadowvale Inn in Napa.

“
What did you say Amelia’s husband did for a living?” he asked Regina as he dialed.

“
He’s a judge.”

A female voice said, “Meadowvale Inn. Desk. Rachel speaking.”

“
Rachel, this is Judge Corde in San Francisco. I have before me an invoice from your establishment. It seems there’s a discrepancy regarding a number of long-distance telephone calls made from the room my wife and I were said to occupy.”

“
Which room was that, Judge Corde?”

“
That, I believe, is another problem. The room number on this invoice is not the same room we occupied. And the dates, I fear, are off. We checked in on the eleventh and checked out the fourteenth. Now, if you’ll just pull your copy so we may get this straightened out.”

John heard papers rustling. “Your dates are correct. Judge Corde, and according to my records there were no long-distance calls charged to room nineteen.”

“
That was my opinion, as well. Am I safe to assume a mistake has been made in billing and I may, therefore, dispose of this invoice?”

“
Yes, of course. I’m sorry you had to be inconvenienced, sir. We have a new girl in accounting.”

John disconnected and turned to Regina. “Damnit.”

“
What?”

“
They were there from Thursday to Sunday morning.”

“
But she still could have driven into the city on Saturday,” Regina said. “She may have lied about visiting her mother.”

“
Or she could have had someone else go to the Fitness Center. Kincade.” John paced. “If I could just get a look in their meat freezer.” He whirled around to Regina. “C’mon.” He pulled her up from the rocker. “I have an idea.”

Donna stood at the window, looking out across the hospital parking lot. A sense of sadness was all that remained of yesterday’s deep depression. She’d been a fool to consider suicide. Tom, so levelheaded and compassionate, had convinced her she wasn’t to blame for Tammy’s death, or for her own attack. And she realized that had she succeeded in killing herself, the burden of her death would fall on Nolan. After all, he had brought her the pills, though, naturally, he hadn’t dreamed she would use them in that way.

A gunmetal gray BMW pulled into the side entrance and she wondered if it was Nolan’s car. He had called that morning to say he would be in, but he’d been vague about the time. He’d hinted that he wanted to discuss Regina.

She thought about Regina. They’d been friends for so many years. Regina, who didn’t have a jealous bone in her body, had been content to stay in the background and cheer her on. Nolan had never liked Regina and though she’d asked him about it many times, he refused to give a reason for his obvious animosity. She suspected it was because she and Regina were too close. Nolan was comfortable only if he had complete control. To Nolan, Regina was a threat. Though, unbeknownst to him, she never interfered. “He makes you happy,” Regina had told her once when Donna felt a need to explain why she put up with Nolan’s dominating manner. “And if you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

He makes you happy.

Did she make
him
happy?

At one time she did. Could she say the same now? How much had changed? Surely Nolan still loved her despite what had happened.

She thought of Corinne ... alone now and bitter. Had someone loved her before she had lost her beauty? Had he turned his back on her, repulsion and guilt clouding his eyes? Corinne had had a boyfriend. Donna recalled a young man, a street kid actually, whose light blue eyes glowed like blue topaz against his tanned skin. A boy who looked a lot like —

Oh, sweet Mary! Could it be? Was it possible?

Only now did she remember where she had seen that man before. John Davie, Regina’s new friend and neighbor, had come to the hotel on the day of the crowning. He and Corinne had argued under the stairway. Donna had heard a slap, then the one Corinne called Jack had stormed off. Donna had seen him again the following morning when she’d come to the hospital to check on Corinne. He had looked wretched, like a tormented soul committed to hell, a glint of desperation glowing feverishly in his brooding, bloodshot eyes. A plainclothes policeman had come then, and together they had gone to the police station. Of course Davie had been a young man then, practically a boy, but she could never forget those eyes.