Death Angel (30 page)

She’d have to talk to Mike about using
his key again. He’d always been free to come and go. Over the years, she’d
gotten used to him wandering in whenever he was passing and saw the lights on.
Since Richard’s disappearance, he’d become more formal, ringing the doorbell
and waiting for her to let him in. So much had changed, she thought, sighing as
she opened the door.

“I know I’m late,” Mike said, “but as a
peace offering I brought wine. The guy in the liquor store said it would be
perfect with pork.”

He waved a bottle of white wine at
her.
 

“We’re not having pork,” she said. As he
backed away in mock horror, she grabbed the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Get in
here before all the air-conditioning gets out.”

He came in shedding his jacket and
tossing it with unerring accuracy onto the newel post. His voice boomed,
filling the empty spaces of the house, reminding her of how full of life he
was. A wave of nostalgia hit her but she pushed it away, determined to enjoy
the evening.

“What happened to all the reporters? I
was sure I’d have to come through Marian’s hedges again.”

“I think the heat got to them. After
several hours, even Leidecker’s statement is old news.”

“I told you Leidecker couldn’t be
trusted. He was so anxious to make the police department look good, he leaped
at the chance to pin everything on Richard.”

Kate held up her hand to stem further
discussion. “How’s a drink sound?”

“Like a call to paradise.”

He followed her, pulling off his tie and
tossing it on the back of a kitchen chair. He took over the bartending,
muttering over the proportions of his martini and the inadequacies of the
olives.

“Generic olives? Ye gods! Who’d have
thought you’d have such little imagination? Next time I’ll bring my own brand.”
He mixed a screwdriver for Kate and handed it to her before picking up his own
glass. He took a tentative sip, eyes squinting as he evaluated the first taste.
“Ah. The world is a better place since the invention of gin. Less sober, but
definitely better.”

“You told me you went out to L.A. for a
conference. Must have been on the high seas. Your nose is peeling.”

“I ducked out for a day of deep-sea
fishing.” Gingerly, he touched his nose. “I thought only lifeguards put that
white gunk on their noses. Next time I’ll be smarter.”

“Aside from the burn, did you catch
anything?”

“Nothing to write home about. I should
have played golf.”
 

Kate took a sip of her drink, then
opened the oven door to check on the chicken. Mike peeked over her shoulder,
sniffing appreciatively.

“Sit and relax while I get the rice
started.”
 

Kate picked up the recipe card as he
left the room. After setting the casserole in the oven, she went out to the
family room. Mike was standing beside the couch, staring down at the pile of
papers on the floor.
 

“What’s all this?”

“It’s just some things I was looking
through.”

For some reason she felt as if she’d
been caught doing something illegal. She hurried over, bending down to scoop up
the loose papers and dump them into the box.
 

“I saw what it was, Kate. It’s the box
of reports from Richard’s studio. He showed them to me after Jenny died.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” He took a sip of his
martini, eyeing her over the rim of the glass. “What’s up?”

“I was doing some cleaning.”

“I think there’s a little more to it
than cleaning,” he said. His voice was indulgent. “Why don’t we sit down, and
you can tell me why you’ve been going through all this?” He waved his hand in
the direction of the box.
 

Without argument, Kate sat down on the
edge of the couch, gripping her hands together in her lap. Her idea was so
bizarre that she was embarrassed to even mention it. She suspected Mike would
have the same reaction that Leidecker would. He’d think she’d lost her
mind.
 

Mike sat down in the easy chair
kitty-corner to her. “Well?”

She shook her head.

“Look, Kate, I’m only concerned for your
welfare. Although you’ve been putting on a good front, I know inside you’re
still dealing with some pretty heavy issues. I wonder if it’s a good idea to go
through this stuff right now. Couldn’t it wait for awhile?”

“No,” she said, staring down at her lap.
“I had to check something.”

“I’m sure you have questions,” he said.
He set his drink down, and reached out to cover her hands with one of his.
“It’s a normal reaction after a death. Wait for a little longer when you’ve
recovered more of your equilibrium. What could possibly be so important that
you need to check on it today?”

“I thought I found a clue.”

Her words startled her as much as they
did Mike. His hand jerked away from her as if he’d been scalded.

“A clue? To what?”
 

“To Jenny’s killer?”

Mike was staring at her as if she had
taken leave of her senses. He reached for the glass that he’d set on the table
and took a sizable swallow of the drink.
 

“You’re kidding, right?”

His disbelief made her defensive. “I
don’t know for sure, but today I thought I might have come up with a possible
suspect.”

“A suspect. I see. Why don’t you start
from the beginning? Just tell me what happened to lead you to this —”

“Insanity?” she suggested.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Mike leaned
back, his face impassive. “Let’s hear it.”

Kate’s mouth was dry and she licked her
lips before she started to speak. At first she stumbled over the words, but
each succeeding sentence came easier. She told him about the assignment at
Garvey & Associates, and then spent some time trying to convey her
impressions of Joseph Garvey.

She watched Mike as she told about
finding the candy wrappers. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but didn’t
interrupt. She tried to keep her voice matter-of-fact as she described Garvey’s
anger when he found her in his office. Finally she told him how she’d checked
the computer printout and found Garvey’s name. Even to her ears the whole story
sounded idiotic.
 

Mike didn’t speak immediately. He sat
very still, staring down into his glass as if it held the answer to all the
questions in the universe.

“It’s not much,” she said.

“No, it’s not.” He drained his glass,
then set it on the table. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
He held a hand out, fingers splayed, but he did not touch her. “Two
coincidences and a quantum leap.”

“I know what you’re thinking, and I’m
not losing my mind.”

He shook his head.
 

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I believe
you found the wrappers and Garvey’s name on the computer list. I’ll admit that
his behavior makes him sound like a real asshole, but that’s a far cry from
being a murderer.”

“I said, I thought he was capable of
murder.”

“Perhaps if I’d been there I’d think so
too, but all I can deal with are the facts. I don’t think even Leidecker would
arrest Joseph Garvey for eating butterscotch and having a dark, two-door car
with PF plates. Everyone we know has those plates. Richard had them. I’ve got
them. I bet even that bastard Leidecker has them!”

Kate could feel hot color burning her
cheeks.

“I know it sounds stupid, but I can’t
tell you how strong a feeling I have about the man.” She grabbed her skirt in
both hands, crushing the fabric in frustration.

“Do you really understand what you’re
saying, Kate? Listen to yourself. Are you saying that Garvey is some kind of
psycho killer?” Mike’s voice rose on the last word.

“Yes. I mean, no. Damn it, Mike, I don’t
know.”

“Holy God, Kate! The whole thing’s
preposterous. Aside from the lack of any hard evidence, coincidences like this
don’t happen. It’s a bit of a stretch to think you’d end up working for the man
responsible for Jenny’s murder. Can you imagine the odds of that happening?”

“I don’t give a damn about the odds!”
she cried. “All I care about is that my child is dead, and her murderer has not
been brought to justice!”

Anger washed through her, and she jumped
to her feet. She moved across the room to the patio doors and stared out at the
backyard bathed in the reddish-gold light that presaged the setting of the sun.
Aware of Mike’s silence, she could feel the muscles in her back tighten.
 

Mike shuffled his feet and she turned to
face him, her back to the windows, chin raised in defiance. She was surprised
that his expression was a mixture of confusion and apology.

“I’m sorry I barked at you.” He rubbed
his hands over his face then massaged the back of his neck. “We’ll put my
behavior down to sheer surprise and a real concern for you. If I try to make
nice, will you come back and sit down?”

She did as he asked, sitting down on the
edge of the couch.

“Don’t be pissed at me. You’ve had all
day to think about this, so don’t expect me to leap right into the fray without
showing the slightest bit of caution.”

He waited while she considered his words.
Hearing the sincerity in his voice, her muscles began to relax.

“I’m sorry too,” she said. “My emotions
still swing pretty dramatically.”

Mike’s mouth widened in a grin; part
relief, part approval. “Let’s call a truce. I definitely need another drink,
some dinner, and a chance to digest some of what you’ve said. Okay?”

“Deal,” she said.
 

He followed her into the kitchen, making
another martini while she put the chicken and rice on the table and tossed the
salad.

She waved him to a chair, then poured a
glass of iced tea. She was reminded of all the other times Mike had eaten in
the kitchen with her and Richard and Jenny. Pushing the memories away, she
concentrated on her dinner.

He ate with great gusto. He’d told her
once he’d never been able to get enough to eat when he was a kid. She could
imagine him as a big awkward teenager with an endless capacity for food. It was
a treat cooking for him because he ate everything with visible pleasure. Only
when he was reaching for a second helping of chicken, did he look up and grin
sheepishly.

“So I’m a boor.” He shrugged. “What can
I say? This is terrific and I was starving.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

The dinner continued in silence. Kate
was relaxed, feeling no pressure to make conversation. She respected Mike’s
need to think over what she’d told him. However, by the time he pushed his
plate away and folded his napkin, she had to admit she was getting anxious to
hear his comments.

He stared across the table, eyebrows
lowered in a frown. “Frankly, despite what you’ve told me, I’m having trouble
accepting your theory.” When she started to speak, he held up his hand. “Now
don’t get all defensive on me. I’m not saying you’re wrong. All I’m saying is
that I can’t accept the basic premise that Joseph Garvey murdered Jenny.”

“I know that this whole thing sounds
utterly impossible. But if you’d seen Garvey yesterday you’d have no doubt in
your mind. There is something wrong with the man. I don’t know how else to
explain it, except to tell you that the man frightens me.”

“That doesn’t make him a killer.”

She gritted her teeth at the reasonable
words. She pushed her chair back and took a deep breath.
 

“I never asked you this, Mike, but now I
have to.” She swallowed convulsively. “Do you think Richard killed Jenny?”

He didn’t speak immediately. He moved
his chair away from the table, stretching out his long legs. With a sigh, he
sat up straight, turning his body to face her.

“It’s strange, but I’ve purposely not
asked myself that question. I think there’s a little part of me that’s afraid
to know the answer.”
 

“I’m asking you, Mike. Just me.”

He tilted his head on the side, his eyes
searching hers. Finally he said, “I don’t think Richard killed Jenny.”

Just hearing him say the words lifted a
weight from Kate’s heart. Quick tears came to her eyes and she blinked rapidly
to keep them from overflowing.

“I don’t think so either,” she said,
voice a little shaky. “And if he didn’t, someone else did. Which brings me back
to my original premise. I realize it could be some total stranger but it could
also be someone right here in Pickard. So why couldn’t that person be Joseph
Garvey?”

A pause. A grimace.

“God, Kate! You are one stubborn woman.”
He stared at her, shaking his head in annoyance. “All right. Just for
argument’s sake, assume I accept your wild theory. What do we do about it? Go
to the police and tell them that Joseph Garvey’s the murderer they’re looking
for?”