Casanova Killer (7 page)

“I’m sure. Let’s grab a juice to go; I’ll text Ronald to pull the car around.” Jerry sent two texts, one to Ronald and one to Dylan. By the time they were riding towards Sonja’s home, Dylan was already en route as well, following the GPS signal on her phone. Jerry’s text was brief, but the message was enough to make him drop everything and go. He’d worked with her long enough to have full faith in Jerry’s instincts.

Sonja’s apartment comprised the top floor of a restored Victorian less than three miles from the yoga studio. With stop and start traffic, it took them fifteen minutes to arrive.

“What a lovely home,” Jerry remarked as they glided to a stop across the street from the painted lady. “Do you see her car?” Two cars were parked on the street, directly in front of the old home.

“Yes,” Kim said with relief. That’s it there.” She pointed to a late model BMW parked in the narrow driveway. “Sonya has the top floor apartment and assigned parking.” Kim waited for traffic to pass before opening her door. “I’ll just be a moment.”

“I’ll come to the door with you, just in case.” Jerry followed her out of the car.

Climbing to the third floor of Sonja’s home gave Jerry’s legs a workout they didn’t need. Her adrenaline was pumping so that she hardly noticed the pain.

The top floor landing was lit with the colors of an oversized stain glass window that appeared to be original to the house. A small table with a Tiffany lamp stood outside the apartment door.

Jerry waited to the side as Kim knocked repeatedly and called Sonja’s name.

“Do you have a key?” Jerry asked.

“No.”

“Call her again, maybe we can hear the phone ring if she’s inside and can’t answer the door.”

Kim dialed Sonja’s number while Jerry looked over her shoulder, committing the number to memory. Both women listened intently for any sound inside the apartment.

“She must still be out with Oscar.” Kim disconnected and turned back towards the stairs.

“I’m sure that’s it.” Jerry hurriedly agreed. “Does she often disappear like this?” She kept her voice casual. “A friend of mine back in Maine disappears all the time. Says she needs her space.”

“Not Sonja. I’ve known her for years and she’s as dependable as the sunrise. She’ll probably call later; she knows I’ll worry if I don’t hear from her.” Kim glanced back at Jerry as they walked down the stairs. “We sort of look out for each other.”

“That’s good. We all need someone.”

By the time the two women exited the home, Dylan had found a parking spot, one block up. He waited as the town car disappeared from sight before making his way inside.

He already knew that Sonja Jenkins lived in an apartment owned by Rockstone Promotions, LLC. According to Jimmy, the resident geek in tech support, the BMW was leased by the same company. Following protocol, he took the stairs two at a time and knocked on Sonja’s door. After a few minutes, he went to the second floor landing, intending to do an impromptu interview with her neighbors.

The twenty-something redhead who answered the door was dressed like a bohemian in a long, flowing dress. She gave him a once over from head to toe before speaking.

“Well hello there.” Her southern drawl was unmistakable. “Are you lost?”

The distinctive aroma pouring into the hall from her open door reminded Dylan of his college days. Deciding to play it cool, he relaxed his stance.

“Why no, sugar, I’m not lost. I’m looking for Sonja,” he nodded towards the stairs, “have you seen her this morning?” He gave the girl his lopsided grin, the one that always worked for him.

“Where does she find you guys?” The redhead tossed her head and leaned against the doorjamb. “No, I haven’t seen her since she left yesterday afternoon. He was a looker, too.”

“Oh really,” Dylan leaned against the wall, closer to the girl. “Should I be jealous?”

“I don’t know,” she winked at him. “He looked pretty good.”

“Mmmm,” Dylan appeared concerned. “I bet my car’s better than his.” He winked back at her.

“I seriously doubt it. Do you have a red Italian sports car?” She asked, warming to the stranger.

“No. Mine’s black.” He told her with a smug smile, even as his heart sank. “So, did you ever meet my competition?”

“No, he always waited in the car for Sonja to come down.”

“Can you describe him for me, just so I know what I’m up against.” Dylan looked appropriately hopeful.

“Sure, handsome. He looked tall, at least I think so. It’s hard to tell from my window.” She whispered conspiratorially.  Dylan nodded. “He had longish black hair and a thick mustache, which I normally don’t like but on him it looked good. Broad shoulders, sort of like yours, and high cheekbones. His face reminded me of Rock Hudson, you know, an actor from ancient movies.”

“You saw a good bit from your window.” Dylan smiled again. The girl moved closer.

“Would you like to come in?” She invited. “We could get to know each other while you wait on Sonja.”

“Thanks, sugar, but I’ll have to pass today. I’m sure I’ll see you again, though.” Dylan straightened and moved away from the door. He was beginning to feel like he had a contact high.

“Your loss.” She breathed and slowly closed the door.

Dylan sent a text to Ethan and Nate with the description of the unsub. He also suggested that Nate order a helicopter to scour the surrounding cliffs. He knew in his gut that Sonja was dead.

“Where’s my damn clairvoyance when I need it?” He mumbled as he walked down to the first floor. Ever since Dylan was a small boy, he’d had visions of events as they happened. Most often, the visions only concerned those closest to him. His grandmother had explained that he had a gift, that he should be grateful that God considered him to be so special. Dylan considered it a curse and evidence that God either had a sense of humor or didn’t like him very much. The worst vision to date was of his wife cheating on him with his best friend. Former wife and former best friend, he clarified to himself.

“Just once, couldn’t the damn
gift
help me solve a case?” He whispered as he knocked on the door. No one answered. Pressing his ear against the wood, he heard no evidence of noise or movement inside the apartment. Knowing he’d be back later, he dialed Nate as he left the building.

“Feels like we’ve got another one.” He told him.

“It definitely does. Wait until you see her DMV photo; she’s a dead ringer for the first victim in London, no pun intended.” Nate’s voice was grim. “Sounds like the neighbor got a decent look at him. Any luck with the occupants on the first floor?”

“They’re not at home; I’ll come back later. I’m not sure how reliable the girl’s description is, she was pretty stoned when I talked to her, but at least it’s something.” Reaching his car, Dylan paused. “Are you working on a warrant for her apartment? Should I hang here?”

“Yes, it should be ready in a few. Working with the city government certainly expedites things. I’m on my way there now, so just sit tight.”

“Will do. Do we have choppers in the air?”

“Two, though the miles of coastline presents a challenge. Would be nice to have a clue to help narrow down the location.”

“Tell them to look for circling buzzards. I don’t expect we’ll find Sonja alive.” Dylan kicked the tire on his car. It felt good to let off a little frustration.

“I don’t expect so, either. Maybe we’ll find something in her apartment. I’m almost there.” Nate disconnected.

Dylan texted Jerry, asking her to call when she was free. His phone rang almost immediately.

“What did you find?” she asked in greeting.

“The girl living on the second floor saw Sonja get into a red Italian sports car yesterday afternoon. She gave us a description, but I’m not sure how accurate it is, she was pretty high when we spoke.”

“What’s the description?”

“Tall, longish black hair, mustache, reminded her of Rock Hudson.”

“The actor?”

“You know another Rock Hudson?”

“Smartass. Ethan didn’t say anything about a mustache; that’s new. It could be fake, or he could have grown it in since Europe. If it’s him, he’s also changed his hair color.”

“What do you mean, if? Are you having doubts?”

“No. It’s him. My gut’s telling me that Sonja’s dead.”

“We agree. Nate’s got two choppers searching the cliffs along the coast. Did Kim tell you anything else that would help us with the search?”

“No, she never met the guy. All she knows is that he’s young, rich, gorgeous and calls himself Oscar. He told Sonja to dress for an adventure yesterday, but she didn’t know where he was taking her. I couldn’t really ask a lot of questions without making her suspicious of my cover.”

“That fits in with everything we already know about him. I’m sure the name’s an alias, but it could be helpful.” Dylan raised is hand as Nate drove by. “Nate’s here with a warrant. We’re going into Sonja’s place. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Let me know.”

“Of course. I’ll drop by later and brief you and Ethan.”

“See you then.”

Chapter Ten

“Her place was clean. No mention of Oscar, her date or anything about him.” Dylan placed a laptop on the dining table. “Hopefully, I can get into this thing and find out something more.”

“It makes sense that she wouldn’t have anything about Oscar written down in her place. Mustn’t let her current companion know about her side interests.” Jerry dropped into the chair beside Dylan. “Any news on the search?”

“Nothing yet, and it’ll soon be dark. If they don’t locate her, they’ll pick it up first light.” Dylan began attacking the keys on Sonja’s laptop. “If I were a beautiful young woman, living the high life, what would my password be?”

“Any pets?” Ethan asked as he entered, his hair still wet from a shower.

“Nope, and it’s not her birthday, either.” Dylan kept working.

“Try Namaste and other yoga terms. According to Kim, she loved that stuff.” Jerry told him and watched as he tried several more times to open the program. “You could overnight it to Jimmy; I’m sure he has ways of getting inside.” Jerry hid her grin.

Dylan narrowed his eyes at her, as she knew he would. “The day a snot-nosed kid can beat me into a laptop is the day I’ll hang up my hat. Just back off and give me a minute, dammit.”

While getting under Dylan’s skin was one of her favorite things, Jerry hoped he was right this time. She’d hate for his ego to cost them precious time. “Alright, alright.” She held up her hands. “Shutting up now.”

“Are you two related?” Ethan asked with a straight face and nearly lost it when they both turned on him, eyes blaring.

“Of course we’re not related. Why in the world would you ask something like that?” Jerry asked.

“Because you bicker like siblings, that’s why. Sorry.” He gave her a sheepish grin and Jerry thought he looked good enough to eat.

“Hey, I’m in.” Dylan exclaimed. “Told ya.” He raised his eyebrows at Jerry.

“Okay, okay, you’re good. Now find us something.”

“Quit looking over my shoulder,” Dylan commanded. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your big night out?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“I’m going. Ethan, have you finished in the bathroom?”

“It’s all yours; just let me get my tux from the closet.”

By the time Jerry came back into the living room, Dylan and Ethan had their heads together over the laptop, peering at the computer screen.

“Did you find something?” She asked as she came through the door. Both men turned to look at her. Dylan’s reaction tickled her, but it was the sudden gleam in Ethan’s eyes that had her heart fluttering.

“Damn, Princess, you clean up good.” Dylan nodded approvingly.

“Thanks.” Jerry threw him a glance, then went to stand beside Ethan.

“You look wonderful.” He told her and touched her arm. “That shade of blue is perfect with your eyes.” The sincerity of his compliment made her pause. She had fallen in love with the sapphire blue gown as soon as she’d seen it hanging in her closet. Secretly, she was nervous about tonight and hoped that she’d at least chosen the right dress.

“Thank you, Ethan. You look nice too.” It was an understatement if there had ever been one. The man looked like sin on a stick. She was suddenly grateful for Dylan’s presence, otherwise she may have given in to the urge to reach up and taste him. “What did you find?”

“An image, possibly, of Oscar. It’s grainy, looks like it was taken at night from a distance. See the red Mas in the background?” Dylan pointed to the screen.

“Yes, can you enhance it?”

“I’m trying, but Jimmy’s got the good toys; I sent it off to him. It’s time stamped four days ago, taken with a Canon, but we didn’t find one in the apartment.”

“She would have taken it with her, in anticipation of the adventure he promised.” Jerry’s voice was sour. “Son of a bitch couldn’t know about this picture. No way would he let her keep it.”

“That’s probably why it’s such a bad shot. Maybe by tomorrow, we’ll have his face.”

“From your lips.” Jerry added.

“We should go.” Ethan took Jerry’s arm; she hoped he didn’t feel the goose bumps that suddenly appeared.

“Text us if you find anything else.” Jerry told Dylan. “And lock up when you leave.”

“Yes ma’am. Have fun.” He told her with a wicked grin.

“We will.” Ethan assured him and guided Jerry through the door.

“But why would Alfredo humiliate Violetta in front of everyone, even if it were true that she loved the Baron? He was an idiot to believe that, by the way.” Jerry spoke in hushed tones, even though the curtain had fallen on the second Act.

“He was so devastated by her betrayal that he couldn’t see past his ego. His need to crush her in front of their peers is not an uncommon knee-jerk reaction, I suppose, even in the eighteen hundreds.” Ethan was pleased that Jerry had honored her word to give the performance a fair shake and secretly thrilled that she was getting into the story.

“But how could he not see that she was lying? The love between them was palpable, how could he believe that she was in love with anyone else, especially such a pompous ass. Alfredo had to know that his father was behind Violetta’s sudden change of heart. If nothing else, the timing made it obvious.” Jerry’s anger at the storyline amused Ethan in that it echoed his own whenever he managed to catch a performance.

“Obvious to us, but not so much to a love-sick Alfredo. I believe that he’d never really gotten over the Baron’s influence in Violetta’s former lifestyle as a courtesan.”

“Maybe so. At least the guests at the party turned on him for treating a woman so poorly. Another thing I don’t understand is why Violetta begged him to see the love in her heart after he’d treated her like crap.”

“I take it you’ve never been in love?” Ethan asked quietly.

The question surprised Jerry, but not as much as the way Ethan’s eyes suddenly narrowed and seemed to reach right into her soul to find the answer.

“No, I haven’t,” she said softly. “I’ve had crushes and mini-relationships, but I’ve never experienced the all-consuming power of the kind of love that Violetta and Alfredo share.”

“Neither have I; I’m not sure how many people have been lucky enough to find the real thing. I’ve seen enough operas and read enough Browning and the like to know that pride goes out the window when true love is involved. Even though Violetta used Alfredo’s insecurities to try and do what his father insisted was right for the family, she really wanted him to see past the ruse and rely on her love for him. But he failed.”

“Men can be such idiots.” Jerry’s expression caused Ethan to laugh out loud, eliciting raised eyebrows from the patrons still seated in the surrounding boxes.

“I suppose you’re right, but can you really fault Alfredo for believing Violetta’s lies?”

“I don’t know, I suppose not. There’s one more Act, right? Maybe they’ll come to their senses.” Jerry relaxed back in her seat as the house lights flickered.

Ethan didn’t want to spoil the ending, but he suddenly wished he’d taken her to a predictable romantic comedy or anything with a feel-good ending. As invested as she was in the plot, she would surely feel the pain of the Third Act acutely. He wanted to spare her that. Resisting the urge to take her hand and lead her out of the theater, he settled back and felt inside his pocket for a handkerchief.

Dylan clicked the link that Jimmy had just sent and waited for the image to become clear. The graininess was gone, but the man’s face was in shadow, giving them precious little more than they already had on him.

“Dammit,” he shoved away from the table situated beneath the window in his hotel room. Throwing open the door, he walked a few feet and pounded on Nate’s door.

“I thought we were going to meet downstairs,” Nate greeted him.

“Have you seen the best your boy wonder Jimmy can do with the pic we found on Sonja’s computer?” Dylan ignored Nate’s greeting, moving past him into the room.

“Not yet. I take it that it’s less than satisfactory.” Nate closed the door gently and followed Dylan into the space.

“That’s an understatement.” Dylan growled. “We can’t even see his face. Our first decent lead and tech drops the ball. I thought the kid was supposed to be some kind of computer genius, but you can’t prove it by me.” Dylan waited as Nate found Jimmy’s email and opened the picture.

“His face is in shadow,” Nate commented after studying the image. “I’m sure that if it’s possible to enhance it, Jimmy’s on it.” Nate peered intently at the screen. “He’s a big bastard, must be six four if he’s an inch. Look at his stance and the width of his shoulders. Looks like a body builder.”

Dylan joined Nate at the computer. “If that’s so, he’ll need a place to work out. We should check the gyms in the area, check out any new members in the past two months. With a ride like that, he’ll be remembered.”

“He won’t use the Mas for day-to-day crap; too conspicuous, especially since Jenna’s body was found so soon. Nope, our boy has another ride, something luxurious, but not as flashy.”

“Agreed, but in this city, a private residence with an attached two-car is pricey. No way he’d use street parking or a public facility.”

“We already know he has money. I’ll have Jimmy narrow the search for rental homes with a minimum of a two-car attached. Should help some.” Nate began sending a text.

“I hope he knows how to perform a search better than he knows how to fix a picture.” Dylan grumbled. “Are you ready to eat? I’m starved.”

Ethan sat patiently for Jerry to compose herself after the house lights went up at the end of the performance. He could see tears sliding down Jerry’s face and he wondered if she was even aware of them. She was moved; of that he was certain. How could she not be? Alfredo discovering Violetta’s sacrifice and returning to her just in time to witness her death was heart wrenching for the most seasoned aficionado, even more so for a virgin opera-goer.

Jerry knew the lights were up and that anyone could see, but she couldn’t stop the flow of tears. She could barely understand her emotional reaction to Violetta’s death and Alberto’s resulting heartbreak; no way could she try and explain it to Ethan.

As the theater cleared out, she felt his hand cover hers as it lay on her lap. Turning to face him, she was met with complete understanding and a touch of moisture at the corner of his expressive eyes. No explanation was necessary.

He kept hold of her hand as they made their way to the door, tucking it through his arm and pulling her close amid the remaining patrons and pedestrians along the bustling street. Beautiful people dressed to the nines stepped into a line of waiting cars as couples out for an evening stroll wove their way between them. Cameras flashed as paparazzi captured personal moments and smiling faces in hopes of a payoff. Three or four more industrious homeless held out tins and hands towards anyone who glanced their way. Ethan slid a folded bill into a woman’s hand just before helping Jerry into the car. Neither had spoken a word to each other since Act III had begun.

A comfortable silence filled the back of the town car as it slowly pulled away from the curb. Ethan had not let go of Jerry’s hand, neither did she try and remove it from his grip. He felt warm and familiar, an anchor in the storm of emotion that flooded her during the performance, especially the final act.

For the life of her, Jerry couldn’t come to grips with her reaction to the sadness enacted on stage. It wasn’t as if death was a stranger to her, she’d made it her business. A woman cut down in the prime of her youth, wasted potential and love lost were not uncommon elements of the life she had chosen. Why then, did a centuries old skit depicting a similar scenario trigger such deep, soul-wrenching pain?