Jeff Abbott - A Kiss Gone Bad

‘How so?’

‘How mentally stable could she be, sleeping with hundreds of men? It would warp a soul. Warp a heart.’

‘Do you know she’s done that? I thought she directed, not acted.’

‘As if that matters.’ Faith dismissed the difference with a flutter of fingers. ‘You’re a woman who works in a male-dominated profession, right, Detective?’

‘Yes.’

‘So do I. And a woman like Velvet is a traitor to all women. We fight and bust our butts to be considered equals, and she traps women as carnal playthings. Made-up dolls that exist only to pleasure men.’ Faith leaned closer. ‘She was obsessed with Pete. She didn’t want him to come back to Texas, but she followed him. Pete might have been making the best effort to shed that world, and here she is, blocking his every move.’ She leaned back. ‘I think Pete probably killed himself. But if your tests argue otherwise, I think she killed him.’

‘Funny. She says the same thing about you. At least that’s what she told Judge Mosley.’

Faith’s smile tensed, then relaxed. ‘Thanks for letting me know, Detective. I’ll sue the bitch for slander.’

Claudia had waited to see if Faith would broach the subject of custody. ‘Speaking of legal proceedings… I understand Pete was considering fighting for custody of Sam.’

Faith blinked, then laughed. ‘Surely you jest. He wouldn’t have a prayer in family court.’

‘He never mentioned a desire for custody of Sam?’

‘No. Never. Not once. Who says so?’

‘Velvet.’

‘Consider the rather polluted source.’

Claudia shifted focus. ‘Do you know anyone named Deloache?’

‘No.’

‘Did Pete ever talk about his brother Corey to you?’

A surprised blink. ‘Corey? God, no. He’s a forbidden subject.’

‘With Pete? Or with the senator?’

‘With Pete. It was too painful for him. They were real close.’

‘He didn’t tell you he was making a film about Corey?’

‘No. He didn’t – but Judge Mosley told me last night. Pete never mentioned a movie to any of us. You can imagine how awful it would be for the senator, ripping open terrible old wounds.’ She raised her palms up in mock surrender. ‘Another perfect example of how unthinking Pete could be.’

‘Pete had a laptop computer that’s missing. Do you know where this laptop or a copy of his notes or script might be?’

‘Good God, no,’ Faith said. Claudia saw the faintest tremble of the woman’s bottom lip. ‘I assume… on the boat.’

‘Did you ever visit him on the boat?’

‘Yes. Once, when I went there with Sam. I wanted to be sure Pete was creating a suitable environment for visits. That whore Velvet wasn’t around. That helped.’

‘If you were on the boat, then I’ll need to get your prints,’ Claudia said sweetly. ‘We want to identify everyone who’s been aboard and see if there are prints not accounted for.’

‘You must be joking.’

‘I’m not. It’s painless.’

Claudia took Faith’s prints herself there in her office, quickly and efficiently. Faith spoke not a word during the procedure and wiped her hands clean with a cloth Claudia handed her.

‘Senator Hubble and I will cooperate in every way,’ Faith said. ‘I just hope you’ll cooperate as well and remember that the senator’s done a great deal for this region.’ She dropped the cloth back on Claudia’s desk. ‘Your family’s been in Port Leo for many years, haven’t they?’ Her voice, asking, was shiny as a knife.

‘Yeah.’

‘Your dad’s a shrimper?’ Asking when it sounded like she already knew.

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s a very honorable profession.’ She gave Claudia a half smile, shaped like the cruel crescent Claudia remembered from high school: the popular girl grinning, closing in for the kill on some mouse of a geek. ‘He ever have trouble holding on to his shrimping license?’

‘No. Never. Not a bit of trouble.’

‘That’s good. You know, licenses are much harder to come by these days. The senator’s trying to make sure we get the right balance between preventing overharvesting of the bays and protecting our economic interests.’ Faith wadded up the ink-smeared cloth. ‘I suppose some shrimpers will lose their livelihoods because their licenses will get bought out by the state. Or won’t be available at all.’

Claudia said nothing.

‘I certainly appreciate the information you gave me.’ Faith’s smile was as warm as summer honey. ‘May I call you Claudia from now on?’

Claudia nodded. Faith Hubble shook hands and lumbered to her feet, tucking her too-little purse under her arm. Claudia walked her to the front door, Faith saying hello to every person they passed, and then headed back to her office alone, her stomach twisting.

She went to the quiet of the ladies’ room and washed her face in icy water. She stared at her dripping face in the mirror. Jesus Christ, Claudia, that mouthy bitch just threatened your father, didn’t she?

Maybe the woman was just making conversation. Or not. Maybe Faith Hubble was rattled after having to give her prints, feeling a little cornered.

She thought of her father, Cipriano, waving at her as his little shrimp boat chugged into St Leo Bay for a day’s work, empty nets hanging behind him like ancient tattered flags, rope and nylon to cull a precarious living, him telling her to be a good girl.

One simple step would set her course aright. Take Delford’s blunt but good advice and treat Hubble as a suicide. Pete Hubble was a moody loser, outcast from a respected family. He’d earned a debased living, and it wouldn’t surprise her in the least if the toxicology tests revealed drugs in his system. He probably had killed himself and spared both his family and Velvet the shock of finding him by inviting Heather Farrell to the boat.

You’re some cop. Quiver like a little kid and let those two tell you how to do your job. She fumed – she should have confronted Faith Hubble right then and there. She called Whit Mosley at the courthouse.

‘Hey, Honorable, it’s Claudia.’

‘What’s the matter? You sound deflated.’

‘No, just tired.’ Suddenly she didn’t feel like embarrassing herself with private revelations to Whit. ‘I wanted to update you on where we are.’ She told him about her questioning of Velvet, the missing laptop, and her discussion with Faith, sticking to the facts. ‘What do you think of suicide as an explanation?’

‘Your boss came down hard on me last night to push for suicide,’ Whit said. ‘I didn’t appreciate it.’

‘He…’ Claudia stopped herself. Delford Spires had been her ardent supporter, her mentor on the force. ‘I know he’s never been your favorite, but he is a smart man. I’m sure he meant well.’

Whit updated her about his discussion with Ernesto Gomez and the information he had gleaned. ‘I’d like to know who this dirtbag is that Pete argued with on the boat. We should ask Velvet.’

‘I’m going to have a background check made on Pete Hubble, see if he has a record in California. I’m going to check Velvet, too,’ Claudia said. ‘I’d like to visit Jabez Jones. His name keeps cropping up.’

‘Take me with you, but I’m booked up until this evening with the joys of court,’ Whit said.

Claudia said, ‘I’ll call and see when we can meet with him.’

‘Fine. I’ll call you as soon as I know details that are forensic and meaningful,’ he said.

‘Fine. Bye,’ she said, still feeling peevish. She had a lot of phone calls to make, computer searches to do. She picked up the sheaf of pink messages left for her by the dispatcher. Two from Patsy Duchamp at the Port Leo Mariner, no doubt looking for a quote. One from her mother, no doubt to berate her for divorcing Deputy Wonderful. And one, surprisingly, from the Reverend Jabez Jones.