Notorious (24 page)

“No need to be sarcastic,” she said. “I’ve worked enough of these cases to know how it’s done and law enforcement limitations. I have a private forensics lab I’ve used on some of my investigations. They’re in Sacramento, two hours away. They have all the necessary state and federal certifications.”

“Conflict of interest.”

“There is none. It’s not my personal lab. I’ll hire them.”

“You can’t pay for it.”

“I have a nonprofit foundation that—”

“No,” he interrupted. “We’re going through the county lab. They know this is a priority. I told them it ties in with an active murder investigation.” He hesitated. “I know the head of our CSI unit well. He didn’t want to, but he told me—off the record—that the bones are human. He can’t say that until it’s verified in the lab, but it gives me something to work with. The earring—it most likely came from the victim—there was an intact back on it. Gold. I’m making an assumption that the victim was a female, though these days the earring could have come from a guy. And my forensics guy says, as long as I don’t put it in my report, that he thinks the bones are ten to fifteen years old.”

Nick looked at her. “I shook his head. “. ro> found the copy of the parking ticket,” he said.

Her stomach twisted. “Nick—maybe I should have said something, but it’s not like this was your case. And Beck wouldn’t listen to me about anything, and no way was I—”

He put up his hand. “William Revere is your cousin, right?”

“Yes, but I’m not covering for him.”

“Just tell me.”

So she told him exactly what she knew—that the ticket had been in Kevin’s apartment, she had questioned William, and he said he’d left before twelve thirty the night Lindy was killed. And he left her in the main house, alive.

“You know he could be lying.”

“I know.” The thought pained her.

“You can be logical about this? About your family?”

“What do you want me to say? I know William. I don’t think he’s a killer, but I could be wrong. Kevin lied to me, maybe William’s lying.”

“You don’t think he is.”

“I can’t see William strangling Lindy, looking into her face and watching her die. I just—I can’t see it. Maybe I’m blind.”

“She was strangled from behind.”

Max stared at him. “How do you know that?”

“While you were in the shower, I called a friend of mine at the coroner’s office. She grumbled, but read me the report. There’s some odd things, and she’s sending me a copy. But I’ve got to tell you—I’m already getting shit from my boss about the calls I’m making.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He waved off her apology. “I don’t care. I told my boss there may be a connection between Jason Hoffman’s murder and Lindy Ames’s murder.” He glanced over at her murder boards. “What’s that drawing on the Ames board?”

Max got up and took off the sticky note. “This is Lindy’s crime scene.”

“You’re not much of an artist, are you?”

“No.” She pointed to the line. “This is the stone wall. This dotted line is the gate. This tree—”

“That’s a tree?”

“Ha. That’s the tree I climbed up the other night next to the old gym to see if I could see how close Lindy’s clubhouse was from the pool.”

“She was found in the school’s pool.”

“Yes. It’s closer to her clubhouse than her own pool.”

Nick got up and took the drawing off Jason Hoffman’s board. “And this?”

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Chapter Twenty-one

Nick had woken Max up at midnight, then again at three, to make sure she was coherent. Max woke up on her own at five in the morning feeling like she’d been hit by a truck. But her mind was running full steam, and she wanted to look at Kevin’s files.

Nick had already gone through everything. He had it sorted, and Max quickly realized it was sorted into stacks of irrelevant, possibly relevant, and likely relevant. In the center were all the files on her and her family, which made her very uncomfortable.

She glanced over to where Nick was sleeping on the couch. He’d taken his pants off, they were on the chair, and he’d slept in the USMC shirt Max had borrowed from him Saturday. A blanket was tangled around his legs, but she could see his well-toned body. She admired and appreciated men who kept fit.

She didn’t like that Nick now knew so much about her—Kevin had kept a lot of information, his personal notes about her and her family, as well as articles she’d written, reviews of her books and cable show, and her finances. A finance article was on top, about how her family had contested Genevieve Sterling’s will because half her estate was supposed to be left to her charitable trust, and the other half split among her grandchildren. Because Martha had disappeared and never been declared legally dead, the family objected to Max receiving Martha’s share. Fortunately, Genie had left an explicit letter that the judge accepted stating that if Martha Revere didn’t come before the court and identify herself within one year of Genie’s death, that the inheritance—and the board seat that went with it—would be affirmed to Max.

That her family—led by her uncle Brooks—would try to convince the judge that Genie was senile had led to a rift that Max had never forgiven them for. While her other aunts and uncles hadn’t been as emphatic as Brooks, they’d been complicit. Max still didn’t know if their problem was because she had been a twenty-one-year-old college student who continued to cause problems for the family, or if they just wanted money, or if they didn’t want her on the board of the trust. She didn’t care. This was her slot, and her decision.

What pained her more than anything was that Eleanor hadn’t stood up for her. Privately, she’d chastised the others for creating a public disagreement on a matter that should have been handled within the closed doors of the family. But Max refused to cave-in to Eleanor’s so-called compromise, and Eleanor refused to make any public statement on her behalf, nor would she go to the judge for Max. That she hadn’t joined with Brooks and the others didn’t matter to Max—this wasn’t something she should have remained neutral on.

Max didn’t like that Nick knew all this stuff about her. It’s not something she talked about, and it’s not something she wanted to share.

Then in the relevant pile she saw a drawing. It looked exactly like the northwest corner of Atherton Prep. There was the gym under construction, the line of trees, the old gym, the wall—al shook his head. “ sister f alcoholso three small red x’s where the three bodies had been

He’d even put in distances.

“You weren’t much of an artist,” Nick said as he sat up.

“And you are,” Max said, impressed. “You said there was a connection last night, but I don’t know—there’s no one missing from ACP or Atherton. I checked.”

“I saw your notes. Honestly, I don’t know what to think yet. I do believe that you’re right in that Jason was killed because he caught the person removing the bones, or the person thought he’d been spotted, or that Jason had found something around the grave site and was going to contact the authorities. I don’t see how that connects with your friend, Lindy Ames, but if the bones are as old as my forensics team says, it puts that death at about the same time as Lindy’s. I can’t discount the similarities.”

“The gun that killed Jason—”

“Nine millimeter. Ballistics didn’t show a match to any other crime. Nothing special about the bullets, either. No shell casings at the scene, so the killer policed his brass. The killer was less than ten feet away. Could have been a lousy shot and still hit him.”

“And Jason was killed where he was found, here near the trailers.”

Nick nodded, got up and stretched. Max stared. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man. Nick gave her a half smile, grabbed his pants, and went into the bathroom.

Damn, he knew he was hot. A hot cop.

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!

She almost laughed out loud. Yes, hot cops were her vice. She had to watch herself or she’d be flying west a whole lot more than she wanted to.

Her phone rang and she grabbed it.

“Max, what happened?”

It was her producer Ben, sounding hysterical.

“What happened with what? I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“I got a call last night from the police, on my answering machine, about the rental car being totaled. Why didn’t you call me? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“Were you talking on your cell phone again?”

“No, Dad, I wasn’t.”

“Stop that, our insurance rates are through the roof. You’re the definition of a distracted driver.”

“I wasn’t even driving,” she snapped. “I was rear-ended.”

“And the car was totaled?”

“I wouldn’t say totaled. Undrivable?”

“Maxine Revere, tell me what happened.”

She gave Ben the short version because she knew how stressed he got when she was working a dangerous case. “It was nothing. Really. I was reading something in my car—while it was legally parked—a van rear-ended me, stole some stuff, and left.”

“What the fuck? You were robbed?”

“Don’t raise your voice. It’s not my fault!”

“I’m calling David. He+mePM’ll tell me the truth.”

“Go ahead, I already told him what happened.”

“Dammit, Max, what are you working on? You were attacked? What have you been doing? It’s Wednesday, you promised you would be in New York by Friday. You’re coming back Friday, right?”

Her head was hurting listening to Ben. “This is why I prefer e-mails,” she mumbled.

“What?”

Nick had finished in the bathroom and was watching her from the doorway. His expression was both confused and bemused.

Max said, “I’ll try to be back on Friday, but don’t count on it. I can fly back with David Sunday.” Or Monday. Or Tuesday. But she didn’t say that to Ben.

“I have six interviews lined up for Friday. Your new assistant.”

“Change them.”

“I’ll pick one.”

“Don’t you dare. Your track record sucks, Benji.” He hated the nickname he’d had in college.

“God, I hate when you do that.”

“You do the first interview. The three you like the least, set up a second interview with me and David next week.”

“What?”

“Well, you’ve hired all my assistants because you only send me the people you think I’ll like. That hasn’t worked. Josh’s incompetence still gives me nightmares. So send me people you think I’ll hate or scare.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Good-bye.”

“Don’t hang up.”

She didn’t. She wanted to, but Ben had called David in the past when she didn’t listen to him. “There’s more?”

“The attack.”

Damn, she thought she’d diverted his attention from that.

“I’m fine. Failed carjacking attempt.” She was lying to Ben. God help her if he ever found out.

“That’s not what the police said.”

“The police? Who did you talk to? You said they left a message.”

“Well, I called back and he’d given me his cell phone number and actually picked up this morning. An Officer Gavin or Graven. He said that you were attacked with a hammer and the person stole some notes? Yours?”

Max could bluff. She could use smoke and mirrors to change the direction of the conversation. She had a problem with outright lying. “Kevin left me some things,” she said. “One of them, this journal, is apparently very valuable.”

“This is the one time I’m going to tell you to let the police handle it.” He paused. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Max, David will come back for you. You know that.”

“I do, which is why you can’t call him. Ben, I’m fine.”

Nick put his hand out. Max looked at him strangely, then handed him the phone. Nick mouthed to her, “Who is it?”

She whispered, “Ben Lawson, my producer shook his head. “ I can fd p.”

Nick said into the phone, “Mr. Lawson? This is Detective Nick Santini. I’m working on the case involving Ms. Revere, and I’ll make sure she’s safe. There’s no need to be alarmed, uite resilient.” He listened to something, smiled at Max, then handed her the phone.

Max said to Ben, “Satisfied?”

“It’s seven in the morning in California. Why is he in your hotel room? Are you sleeping with him?”

She smiled. It was clear that Nick had heard every word. “Not yet,” she replied and hung up.

*   *   *

It wasn’t until they were walking down for breakfast when Nick told her that he’d called a retired detective and invited him to meet them for a brainstorming session. Detective Carson Salter had been part of the initial investigation into Lindy’s murder. Max didn’t recognize the name, however, she recognized Detective Salter as soon as she saw him. He was short, lean, and black. She remembered that when she’d seen him, a couple times on campus during the week of interviews, his hair had also been black. Now it was almost completely white.

“Good to finally meet you, Santini,” Salter said. He firmly shook their hands, then sat at the table in the Menlo Grill.

Max said, “You two don’t know each other?”

“Carson retired six months before I moved up here. I took his slot, but had to wait for a budgeting issue to be resolved.”

Carson grunted. “They didn’t want to bring him in until the new fiscal year.”

“We’ve talked on the phone a few times because I inherited his desk and some of his cases.”

“When you told me you were looking into the Lindy Ames case, I knew you’d face some problems.”

Max was at a loss. “You’re looking into Lindy’s murder?” she asked Nick.

“Since last night when you were attacked for her journal.”

Carson said, “Nick filled me in on what you’ve been up to, Ms. Revere.”

“Call me Max.”

He smiled. “My wife loves your show. It’s grown on me, though I can’t say I like it all the time.”

“I’m not doing the show to make friends.”

“Is that why you’re here? Doing a show on Lindy’s murder?”

“Do you see a camera crew?” Max realized she was on the defensive. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Detective. I’m still upset about being robbed last night.”

“Call me Carson.”

The waiter came with coffee and juice and took their orders. When he left, Nick said, “When I called around last night about looking at the case files, I was given a red light by my boss. I need to know why.”