Chapter Three #2
“It’s okay,” Akiko said quietly. “I never knew her, so…I guess I haven’t lost anything.”
Betsy took Akiko’s hand. “You lost a potential connection with someone who cared about you. That’s not nothing. You’re entitled to your grief and your anger.”
“Why do you think Mary cared about Akiko?” Baz asked.
Betsy bit at her lip. “Like Kit said yesterday, Mary lived here for decades. Why choose now to contact Akiko? And what if whatever it is she had to share got her killed? Did she know Akiko was in danger?”
“Good questions, Mom,” Kit said. “I’ll add another.
Do we know where Mary went for the past two weeks?
If Sherman didn’t come home for the last three weeks, why stay away?
If Mary was out of town like she said she was, why wouldn’t he just come home to his own house?
Where did she go? Who did she see? What did she do? ”
More good questions, Sam thought. “Akiko, when Mary told you that she couldn’t see you for two weeks, how did she sound? Relaxed or upset?”
“Disappointed, I think. And maybe a little upset, but not mad. More…frustrated.”
“How long has it been since that first phone call?” Harlan asked. “Exactly?”
“Almost three weeks,” Akiko said. “I sat on it for a few days before I told Kit.”
Kit glanced at her father. “And she didn’t volunteer the information, she only told me because I asked, Pop. She didn’t seem like herself.”
“It’s fine, honey. You told me that you knew what was bothering Akiko, but she hadn’t given you permission to tell me. And I told you that I was glad one of us knew. I meant that.”
“You do remember everything, don’t you?” Kit asked with a smile.
“I try.” Harlan pushed his empty plate aside. “So something happens that triggers Mary Sherman’s call to Akiko. Right about the same time that her husband picks up and leaves their house, getting a hotel. Sounds like a connection to me. You need to find out what happened three weeks ago.”
Baz cleared his throat. “I think you mean ‘we’ need to find out.”
Kit met Baz’s eyes. “Are you in?”
Baz’s eyes gleamed. “With both feet.”
Kit lifted her brows. “And Marian? Won’t she be angry?”
“She’s gone on a cruise with her sister through the Panama Canal. I’m home all alone.” He tried to look pitiful and failed. “Just don’t tell her when she comes back.”
“Maybe you should talk to your cardiologist first?” Sam asked gently.
“Did it,” Baz crowed. “My EKG was totally normal. I’m not coming back to SDPD, because I like retirement, but this is personal. This asshole messed with my kids. Kit and Akiko are mine, too.”
Akiko’s smile was tremulous. “Don’t go having another heart attack on my account.”
“Mine either,” Kit said. “But if you promise not to do anything physical, I’ll keep your secret. Unless she finds out from someone else, then I’m totally throwing you under the bus, old man.”
“I’ve missed you, Kit.” Baz winked at Sam. “You too, Sam. Of course.”
“Of course,” Sam said dryly. “What about Connor? Should we include him in our little caper?”
“No,” Kit said, serious again. “He’s still healing. Maybe a phone consultation or two, but he stays home.”
“Because he was shot,” Betsy said. “Just like you were.”
“Not the same, Betsy,” Harlan said. “You know that, just like you know that we can’t hold Kit back.”
“I know. I just worry.”
Kit leaned forward to take her mother’s hand. “I’ll be okay. Now that I know someone’s gunning for me, I’ll take precautions.”
“Don’t get hurt anymore. I thought I’d have a heart attack yesterday when Sam called us.”
“I promise I’ll be careful.” Kit took another biscuit and slathered it with butter. “Let’s make a list. We have to figure out who in SDPD we can get information from. I don’t want to put Marshall and Ashton in a bad spot.”
“Leave that to me,” Baz said. “I have resources. Are we going to feed what we learn to Marshall and Ashton?”
“Of course,” Kit said. “I’m not in competition with them and I trust them. But I also can’t sit still when Akiko might be in danger. I’ve got vacation coming, plus I can milk this injury for a few days of sick leave. We need to come up with a plan.”
“Wait.” Akiko appeared to be stunned. “You’re going to take vacation? For me?”
“I’d do anything for you,” Kit said fiercely.
Akiko swallowed. “Thank you.”
Kit nodded once, then looked at Sam. “Can you spare some time?”
“I’d already cleared my calendar for this week.” That Kit would take time off for Akiko didn’t surprise Sam at all. His next words, however, were going to surprise her. “My, um, parents are coming.”
Kit’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Here?” she squeaked. “They’re coming here?”
“On Tuesday. They want to meet you and your family.”
Kit stared at him, horrified.
“You broke her, Sam,” Baz said, barely holding back a laugh.
Harlan patted her hand. “It’ll be fine, Kitty-Cat. Let Mom and me plan the family dinner for Sam’s folks. You make the plan for solving Mary Sherman’s murder.”
Sam gently squeezed her thigh under the table, because Kit still looked like she’d bolt. “My parents are going to love you. And you already have something in common with my mom.”
“What?” Kit asked.
“Neither of you can cook worth a darn.”
Kit surprised him by laughing. “I suppose that’s as good a place as any to start. Let me change my shoes and feed Snickerdoodle and we can be off. I want to find out where Mary Sherman went for two weeks.”
La Jolla, San Diego, California
Sunday, January 29, 10:05 a.m.
“It’s this house, Sam,” Kit said, pointing to a bungalow. “The one with all the rocks.”
It was the home of Glenda Baker, who was at the top of Kit’s list of interviewees. Glenda and Mary had, apparently, been close friends.
Sam parked his RAV4 at the curb. “Those rocks are a zen rock garden, based on a famous one in Japan.”
Kit’s focus quickly diverted from the perfectly groomed rocks to the woman trudging around the corner, a bucket in one hand and a rake in the other.
She was crying.
“I think that’s Glenda,” Kit murmured.
“And I think she knows that Mary’s dead,” Sam murmured back.
“How did you find this woman?” Baz asked from the back seat.
Kit held up her phone so that he could see. “Mary’s Facebook page. Glenda posts a lot and Mary always comments. There are dozens of photos of the two of them together. They belong to the same garden club. She seemed like a good place to start.”
“I agree,” Baz said. “You just got a new text, by the way. The notification flashed on your screen.”
Kit scowled at her phone. “The story hit the news and I’ve been getting nonstop texts and emails and calls from the media, asking about the shooting and why I was at Mary Sherman’s house with my sister and Sam.
I’ve silenced my phone, but I’m still getting the notifications. I need to start blocking numbers.”
“Has the media identified us as the people who found her body?” Sam asked.
He loved his job, but the publicity was something he could do without. Every time they closed a high-profile case, the media descended, robbing them of privacy until the next big story came around.
“Not yet,” Kit said, “but it’s only a matter of time.”
“Then we deal with it then,” Sam said. “I’m wondering if she knows whether or not Mary had a child thirty-two years ago.”
“I’m wondering if Marshall and Ashton have already been here,” Baz said.
“I hope they have,” Kit confessed. “I’m not looking to step on their toes by poaching their witnesses.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my Kit?” Baz demanded.
Sam chuckled. “She’s softening.”
“I am not. But I like those guys and I don’t want them thinking that I’m butting in.”
“Then let’s do this.” Sam turned off the engine and got out of the vehicle, Kit and Baz following behind him.
Glenda Baker, fifty-four, was a civil engineer and the mother of a twenty-two-year-old son, Brian, who was majoring in art at San Diego State. And who was also watching them suspiciously from the front door. Quickly he joined his mother, standing slightly in front of her.
“We’re not interested,” the young man said.
“We’re not selling anything. My name is Kit McKittrick. These are my colleagues, Sam Reeves and Basil Constantine. We’d like to talk to you about Mary Sherman.”
“You and everyone else in town,” Brian said. “My mom just wants to be left alone, so please leave.”
“We found her body,” Sam said quietly. “We just have a few questions.”
Glenda gently pushed her son aside. “If you’re the ones who found her, then I have questions for you, too. Please follow me.”
“Mom,” Brian started.
“You can stay,” his mother said. “You can even dial the first two digits of 911. But I need answers and those detectives didn’t give me any.”
So Marshall and Ashton had been here. That was good.
Did your friend have a secret baby? was on the tip of Kit’s tongue, but she held it back. They were here to discover where Mary had gone for the past two weeks, but if Kit could, she’d find a way to ask about secret babies. And the status of the Shermans’ marriage.
She, Sam, and Baz followed Glenda to the back of her house. She led them to a patio table and chairs, gesturing for them to take a seat.
“Full disclosure,” Sam said, “we work with the San Diego PD, but we’re not here in an official capacity. I’m a police psychologist, Detective McKittrick is Homicide, and Mr. Constantine is a retired homicide detective.”
Glenda eyed Kit’s arm. The outline of the bandages was slightly visible through the sleeve of her sweater. “I heard one of you got shot. I assume it was you, Detective?”
“It was. Dr. Reeves and I accompanied my sister to meet Mrs. Sherman. I was shot while we stood on her front porch. Mrs. Sherman was already dead when we entered her house.”
“To get away from the shooter,” Sam added. “Otherwise, we never would have trespassed.”
“I believe you,” Glenda said. “Why are you here if not in an official capacity?”
You need to answer our questions first, Kit thought. But she wasn’t here as a cop. She was here as Akiko’s sister. She decided to be as transparent as possible.