Dave Zeltserman - Bad Karma

“No need to apologize,” Wilson said, his eyes as hard as stone. “This needs to be investigated. You really think they could’ve killed Linda?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see where this leads. If they didn’t, but it still comes out that Gibson abused either of his daughters, at least that will be something. At least in some way justice will be served for them.”

Wilson nodded, got to his feet and headed towards the exit. Shannon covered the bill and followed him out the door.

The sun had already set by the time Shannon made his way through Denver International Airport. When he called Susan from his car to apologize for missing their date to watch the sunset, he caught her in the middle of a session with a client. She just seemed relieved that he’d be back in Boulder that night; she also didn’t think she’d be done until ten. They arranged to meet at the hotel at that time so they could go out for a late dinner.

He was able to reach Eli at the Boulder Mind Body Center and they set up to meet a half hour earlier the next morning at their usual spot. Next, he checked his cell phone for messages and saw there were twelve of them. The first two were from Eunice Carver asking about People magazine. She got testier in her second message, demanding to know whether or not they wanted her story; that if they didn’t, she would sell it elsewhere. The next message was from Paul Devens. He thought Shannon would like to know that his tap dance routine had gone over brilliantly. In other words, Shannon could now access the condo while Carver’s family was still barred. According to Devens, his performance would’ve brought a tear to Fred Astaire’s eye. After Devens’ message there was one from Mark Daniels who sounded depressed as he congratulated Shannon on his lawyer’s victory in court and asked if Shannon could let him know when he was planning to search the apartment so he could be present. The rest of them were from Pauline Cousins, all scattered throughout the afternoon. She didn’t say much, only that she needed to talk to him.

Shannon tried calling her motel room but she didn’t pick up. He then reached Devens on his cell phone.

“How was Wichita?” Devens asked.

“Interesting. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it. Ah, you should’ve seen me today. I had them absolutely dazzled with my footwork,” Devens told him, sounding a little drunk.

“Yeah, I heard. Celebrating?”

“A bottle of champagne, my detective friend. This is a big deal for a lawyer like me who never goes to court except to pay off speeding tickets. Come by the office tomorrow morning after eight. You can fill me in about Wichita, and I’ll give you keys to the condo and the police padlock.”

Shannon told him he’d see him then. He next tried Mark Daniels’ cell phone and left a message that he was planning to look through the apartment in the morning, that if Daniels gave him a call back they could arrange when to meet. After that he put the Red Sox-Rockies game on his car radio, and by the time he arrived at his apartment building, the Sox were up four runs in the sixth inning thanks to two David Ortiz homeruns. He couldn’t help smiling thinking how Maguire at that very moment was somewhere giving Rockies’ fans a hard time.

Shannon knocked on Emily’s door, waited until she opened it a crack and told her he was stopping off at his apartment for a little while. He frowned as he looked past her. “Is that a frying pan you’re holding behind your back?”

“So what if it is?” she demanded, her chin stuck out slightly. “You told me my Louisville Slugger’s no good. Anyway, how’d you know?”

“I could see it in your hallway mirror. Try to relax, okay? Odds are no Russian thugs are going to be coming here.”

“They better not, ’cause I’m ready if they do.”

Shannon was going to say something, but decided it would be a waste of breath. He gave Emily a short salute and headed back to his apartment. When he got inside, he found that his spy cameras hadn’t been activated, and felt more relieved than he would’ve guessed knowing that the two Russians hadn’t bothered breaking into his apartment. He then checked his email and saw a reply from Kathleen Tirroza. She was glad to hear he hadn’t fallen off the face of the planet like she had feared, and would get back to him when she had something about either the cult leader or the Russian. At the bottom of the email she included a photo of herself standing next to a good-looking guy about ten years older than her, an engagement ring prominently displayed on her finger as she smiled her typical cat-ate-the-canary smile. The guy next to her had a hardness about his face, and Shannon knew instinctively he was a cop. The tagline added to the bottom of the photo was: Got tired of waiting for you, Shannon!

He knew she was joking about the tagline. They had developed a closeness during the four months they’d worked together, but it was strictly a big brother-little sister type relationship. Tirroza was stunningly beautiful, but this followed the aftermath of Charlie Winters. He’d just been released from the hospital, and Susan had already filed for divorce and had moved to God knows where. He was too messed up emotionally to get involved with anyone. He also still had too many unresolved feelings about Susan. In the emotional state he was in, the only thing he wanted to do was stay busy and work twenty-four hours a day if possible, and many times he and Tirroza did just that. When they were done, he had helped her tie Winters and his cousin, Herbert, to over a hundred other murders across the country. After that, he officially went on disability and moved out to Boulder. He spent the next eight months trying to work out his feelings about Susan, and ended up realizing that even with the hell Winters had put them through he still loved her as much as he ever did. Fortunately she must’ve come to the same conclusion about him because around that time she visited him in Boulder and never left.

Shannon sent Tirroza a reply that it would take something momentous like her getting married for him to take a trip back to Boston, and that he expected the invitation was already in the mail. After that he reset the spy cameras and left.

As he drove back to the Boulderado he kept thinking of the messages Pauline Cousins had left him. There was something about the tone of her voice that bothered him, especially her last message. Calm, but resigned. It reminded him of a jumper he’d once tried to talk down while he was on the force. He pulled over to the side of the road and tried Pauline Cousins again at her motel. When he still got no answer, he got back on the road, swung a left at the next light and drove towards Baseline Reservoir. The moon was in a waxing crescent, and with the area mostly undeveloped with no streetlights, he almost missed the Chevy Impala parked a few hundred yards from True Light’s compound. He pulled over, took a slim jim from his trunk and made his way quickly back to the Chevy. Seconds later he had the door unlocked and was checking the glove compartment. He found paperwork there showing that Pauline Cousins had rented the car. Dropping the slim jim back in his trunk, he got a flashlight, and started towards True Light’s compound in as fast a run as his bruised ribs allowed.

The flashlight caught her face about twenty feet from True Light’s main gate. She stared wide-eyed at Shannon, the muscles tight along her mouth and jaw. Shannon lowered the flashlight and saw the knuckles on her hand bone white as she gripped a handgun. From the size and shape of it, he guessed it was a.38 caliber snub nose; more than powerful enough to knock her over if she tried firing it.