Chapter Seven
Linda Vista, San Diego, California
The energy spike in Ashton’s living room was palpable.
Sam, on the other hand, sagged into his corner of the sofa. A lead. Finally. He felt like he’d been holding his breath ever since Kit had been shot the first time.
“No way,” Kit said, her blue eyes sparkling. “Where did Mary go? Who did she see?”
“A PI.”
Kit blinked, looking to Sam for…he wasn’t sure what. He didn’t think she was sure, either. But when her hand found his, he hung on tight. She was doing that more often, seeking him out. Instigating touch.
This seemed to be about grounding her. Giving her comfort.
All the things he was thrilled to be able to provide.
“A PI?” she echoed. “Why?”
“I dunno. That’s on you to find out. You’re the one who’s mobile. I’m stuck in bed.”
“Who’s the PI, Connor?” Marshall asked.
“His name is Riccardo Nicchi. Goes by Ricky.”
Ashton barked a laugh. “Ricky Nicchi? It rhymes? Really?”
“It does,” Connor said. “But I don’t think anyone’s going to make fun of his name.”
Sam googled the man on his phone, and his search revealed one Riccardo Nicchi in Los Angeles.
“He’s a PI, all right. And…jackpot.” He turned his phone so that Kit could see Nicchi’s photo, a group photo in which Nicchi towered over the other adults.
“He’s a big guy. Got to be six-four, maybe taller. ”
“I bet he’s got big feet,” Kit said thoughtfully.
“Maybe even size thirteen,” Baz said with glee, staring at his own phone. “His website says that he is an expert marksman. Was in the Marines.”
“The M40 rifle makes sense, then,” Kit said. She studied Sam’s phone screen rather than searching her own.
It was nice. Sam loved Kit’s independence, but he found it satisfying when she let him help her, especially with things she was fully capable of doing herself. It was trust, something she did not give lightly.
Progress.
“M40s were the standard sniper rifle for the Marines until recently,” Marshall told his wife.
Leslie gave him an irritated look. “I know. I looked it up when Sergeant Ryland put up all those pictures of bullet casings. I may not be a super detective like you guys, but I’m not stupid, Kevin.”
Marshall grimaced. “Sorry, honey. Didn’t mean to be a know-it-all.”
“You’re forgiven,” Leslie said with a smirk.
Kit’s lips twitched, but she didn’t take her focus from Nicchi’s website. “He looks familiar to me, but I can’t place him.”
“Like you’ve seen him before?” Baz asked.
“I don’t know. But there’s something in the back of my mind. I think I would have remembered meeting him. He’s freaking huge.”
“Maybe he’s been following you,” Sam said, managing to hold back the snarl that rose in his throat at the thought.
“Maybe. Or he was following the guy in the brown sedan who shot us. Maybe he’s a good guy. Or maybe he’s a bad guy who has a beef with another bad guy. This says he teaches self-defense and provides bodyguard services. I wonder who Mary wanted guarded—herself, Akiko, or Dahlia?”
“You think she knew that Dahlia was being stalked?” Sam asked in surprise. “I’d think she’d have stepped in if she’d been aware.”
“You’re probably right. May I?” She took his phone and scrolled through Nicchi’s website.
“He’s got black belts in karate, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, and Krav Maga.
This guy’s a badass, if all his claims are true.
We need to find out why Mary sought him out.
Did she go to his office, Connor, or his house? ”
“His office. I tracked her car up the 5, then used the street cams to track her to this guy’s place and to the house where she stayed—not his house.”
“She still could have been having an affair with him,” Ashton said.
“Maybe,” Connor allowed. “She was at his office from eight in the morning till eight at night every day. At least her car was. She stayed in an Airbnb condo. I’ll text you the address. It’s owned by a corporation that doesn’t seem to have any ties to Nicchi’s personal protection business.”
Kit was still scrolling through the PI’s website.
“Wait. Hold on just a minute. This is interesting. The school of karate that this guy has his black belt in is the same one that Akiko has hers in. It’s called Shuri-ryū.
It’s not a common school in this area. I think there’s one dojo in all of San Diego County and only one or two in LA. That’s a legit connection.”
“It is,” Baz said. “Nice job, Kit.”
“Hey!” Connor said, sounding outraged. “What about me?”
“Nice job, Connor,” all the detectives chanted in unison.
“You guys suck,” Connor said, but he was laughing. “Kit, are you going to mention this guy to Akiko?”
“Of course. But first I want to find out from Raisa and Dahlia Sherman what type of karate they studied. If it’s the same school as Akiko’s, then she may have met them.
She’s been studying at that dojo since she was five years old.
She’s ten years older than the twins, but their paths may have crossed.
If she’s met them without knowing that they’re somehow connected… well, that’s going to be a shock.”
“Especially if Mary is her mother,” Leslie said. “She has sisters that she never knew about. That’s a huge deal.”
Kit nodded grimly. “I know. Connor, this is amazing work, and I know you probably need to rest your eyes, but can you check to see if Mary went to this same place in October and November?”
“Already did and, yes, she did. Whatever she was doing, she’d been at it for several months.”
“Unless she really was having an affair,” Ashton said.
“It is possible,” Kit said. “And we’re going to find out if she was.” She handed Sam back his phone. “I guess the question is, who is ‘we’? Me and Sam and Baz? Or do we tell Navarro and let him give this lead to West and Lennox?”
“West and Lennox?” Connor demanded. “They’re on the case now? What the actual hell?”
“I know,” Kit said. “Believe me, I know. But Navarro’s threatened to bring me in front of a disciplinary board if I continue investigating.”
“It was intense yesterday,” Sam said. “I don’t know who’s breathing down his neck, but it sounds like he might be forced to follow through.”
Connor sighed. “If you give him this information, he’s going to ask how you got it.”
“I know,” Kit said again. “That could implicate you, although you weren’t ordered not to work on the case. I was. I need to think on this. Maybe talk to Mom and Pop and Akiko.” One side of her mouth lifted as she met Sam’s eyes. “And to Sam, of course.”
“Awwww,” Leslie and Stacey said together.
“Goddamned saps,” Baz muttered, but his expression had softened.
Kit shook her head at them all. “I need to determine if Lennox and West are serious about solving this. They should have been working this angle already. If not, I want to know why. And if they haven’t started working this angle, I will. Thanks, Connor. You’re a hero.”
“You’re welcome,” Connor said, uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t get shot again, Kit. I know Sam has your back, but it’s killing me that I don’t.”
“I’ll be careful. And, who knows, I may let West and Lennox investigate.”
Sam didn’t think so. A shared glance with Baz showed that Kit’s mentor didn’t think so, either.
He’d better get his RAV4 gassed up and go home to pack an overnight bag. They were headed to LA. He only hoped Kit would be all right once the dust settled from whatever she decided to do.
Los Angeles, California
Monday, January 30, 5:15 p.m.
“Last chance to change your mind,” Sam said as he parked in front of Ricky Nicchi’s dojo. Nicchi’s website said they had classes scheduled all evening, so hopefully he was still there.
Kit stared at the single-story brick building. Nicchi had bought the property shortly after being honorably discharged from the Marine Corps, ten years ago. He’d started his personal protection business—located in the building just next door—that same year.
He was forty-two years old, single, and regularly finished first or second in karate competitions worldwide. He was a native Californian and had been studying karate since he was ten years old.
Kit had gotten all of this from his dojo’s website and social media presence, both of which featured a lot of photos of cute kids learning karate. There was very little on the bodyguard side of his business, which seemed more relevant to Mary Sherman.
“Is there any news of the white van from yesterday’s shooting?” Kit asked.
“Nothing recent,” Baz said. “Other than that the van’s plates were stolen.”
Which Baz had learned from Sergeant Ryland. Information continued to trickle in, but Kit felt like they were walking into this situation blind.
“No sign of the van in Nicchi’s parking lot,” Sam added, “but that’s no surprise. The shooter in the sedan sprayed the van with bullets, so even if he got the windshield and the windows replaced, the vehicle’s still going to need some bodywork.”
She hadn’t talked to Akiko or her father. Harlan had accompanied Akiko on her charter that morning, uneasy with his daughter being alone miles out to sea with a boat full of strangers. But Akiko still had a business to run, so she hadn’t canceled the charter.
Akiko’s first mate, Paolo, had gone with them, but Harlan was antsy. He’d also asked one of his older adopted sons, Anson, to accompany them, so at least Kit knew they’d be safe.
Anson had been a McKittrick House resident before Kit.
He’d gone on to serve in the Army, then had started a security firm in Anaheim.
His was not personal protection like Nicchi’s firm.
Anson specialized in electronic surveillance and alarms. He’d upgraded the McKittrick House’s security system a few weeks before.
Kit implicitly trusted Anson to take care of her father and sister.
Since Harlan and Akiko were still out of cell phone range, Kit had talked her situation over with her mother. To investigate or not? As Kit expected, Betsy said the decision was entirely up to her.
At that point, Kit had been torn. She loved her job, but she loved her sister more.