Lisa Black - Evidence of Murder

“They’re inked drawings, not photos. It’s different.”

“But it’s glossy.”

“Deluxe edition.” He pulled a slim booklet titled “Batman #663” from the bottom of the pile on the coffee table and handed it to her. “They have glossy pages. It makes the colors more vivid. They use it for special storylines, like the whole Kingdom Come series. Or any time they want to charge more. Have they figured out what actually killed Jillian yet? Did she freeze to death?”

“It’s looking that way, but toxicology results will take a while.” She had no intention of discussing confidential details with a man who was not Jillian’s next of kin, but that much had been printed in the Plain Dealer. “Does Jillian have other family in town? Now that her grandparents have died?”

“Her parents live somewhere in Parma, but they haven’t spoken to her since they found out she’s an-she became an escort. She told them she was a model, but her father took her business card and called George, pretending to be a customer, and got an earful. He screeched at Jillian and they haven’t spoken since. Not even when Cara was born.”

“What about her mother?” She didn’t know why her cousin described interviewing as difficult. Drew could happily have spoken of Jillian Perry for the next three days, pausing only to sip coffee. He told her that Jillian had one sibling, a brother in New Mexico, but he never left the sunshine to come visit. Jillian’s mother would take her call every few months, but only if the father wasn’t home. Cara had been born without any significant problems, and Jillian did not seem unhappy at the absence of the baby’s father. Anyway, Evan had entered her life.

Theresa, obviously free to pry to her heart’s content, asked, “And she never told you who Cara’s father is?”

“No. I told you that before.” He shifted with apparent discomfort, as if more hurt by Jillian’s refusal to share her secret than by her refusal to share her body.

Theresa tried to think of a kinder way to say it but couldn’t. “I thought she told you everything,” she said.

“Some things I didn’t want to know,” he snapped. “Wouldn’t you, if you were me?”

The other men in her life seemed to be the only thing about Jillian that Drew didn’t want to dwell on. Theresa tried another route. “Why did Jillian work as an escort?”

“It paid enough to cover her rent and had flexible hours. That way she could keep going to Tri-C.”

“What did she major in?”

“She started in biology, but switched to education. She dropped out to have Cara. I enrolled to get an MBA to help me run the store, but I got too busy once the place developed a steady clientele.”

“How did she get the job at Beautiful Girlz?”

Drew shrugged. “I think she answered an ad. I know it seems a little sleazy, but it wasn’t, really. That job is sort of what you make it. There are sleazy girls there, sure, but Jillian just did the straight-pay, modeling-type things. Trade shows, business parties. Occasionally a date, when the guy wanted to impress his friends. But she wouldn’t even let them kiss her.”

As he went on about Jillian’s healthy beauty and sweet nature, Theresa stopped listening and looked around. She had found pink cotton fibers on Jillian’s sweatshirt, fibers that hadn’t belonged to the polo shirt. They didn’t appear to match anything in Drew’s living area and most likely had come from Jillian’s own towels. That smear of oil on the sleeve, though…there would be lots of things needing oil on a boat, right? He wouldn’t be running the engines in the middle of winter, but plumbing and electricity still had to work.

“…worried about Cara.”

She tore her gaze from a Star Wars action figure from the original movie, its packaging intact. “What was that?”

“I said, Evan doesn’t care about her. He only wanted Jillian’s body, not her baby. It worried Jillian, how little interest he showed in Cara. What kind of life is Cara going to have, growing up with Evan?”

Theresa sipped her coffee, taking a moment to think. She had never interfered with a victim’s family in any way, but for once considered making an exception. When she had suggested-well, threatened-the idea to Evan yesterday, she had had Jillian’s parents in mind. But any applicant would do. As long as Evan thought Cara’s million and a half wouldn’t go to him upon the baby’s death, the little girl would be safe. Even better than safe. If Evan needed to win a custody hearing, he’d keep the baby’s well-being demonstrably perfect. Assuming, of course, that Cara had anything to fear from Evan.

But that had been before she learned of Drew’s proximity to the crime scene. Now, though her gut wanted to trust the sweet comic-book salesman, her mind waved a few bright red flags. She perched on the fence, trying to remain in neutral territory. “Perhaps Jillian’s parents will take Cara.”

Drew’s neck slumped into his shoulders. “They’ve never even seen Cara. I was the only friend Jillian had. She said so-look at what she sent me for my birthday.”

He handed her an envelope, postmarked a month before, holding a funny American Greetings card. Under the punch line, Jillian had inscribed: Thanks for always being there for me. Love you always, Jillian. The friendship hadn’t been all in Drew’s head.

Theresa tried some gentle probing, a technique at which she’d never been particularly adept. “Cara appears to have been well cared for since Jillian disappeared, and lots of men aren’t fascinated by babies, not until they grow old enough to show some personality. What makes you think Evan would be a bad father?”

“He treated Jillian like a princess until after they were married. Then she became just a pretty body, without a mind, without feelings. Look at that apartment, how it’s decorated.”

“It’s very nice. He said Jillian did it.”

“He ripped a picture out of a magazine and told her to copy it. The colors, everything. She added a wardrobe that she found at an antiques shop and he made her take it back. It wasn’t in the picture.”

Theresa leaned forward and opened her coat. The air had felt cozy at first, but now the warmth grew too heavy. “People often have different ideas about decorating. It took my ex-husband and me three months to find a coffee table we could agree on.”

“He talked about his new video game constantly, but never listened or asked about her work. Think about that-you’re a guy with a beautiful fiancée whose job it is to meet other men, and you don’t ever ask where she’s going or who she’s going to be with?”

“Maybe he trusted her.”

Drew straightened, and gave her a look so knowing that she decided to stop writing him off as a slightly warped dweeb. “No man trusts like that.”

“That still doesn’t make him a bad father.”

Drew got to his feet with an agitated twitch. “The way I see it, there are two possibilities. One, Evan murdered Jillian to get Cara’s money. Two, Evan drove Jillian to-” He stopped, gulped, went on. “Suicide. So how can we stand back and let someone like that raise her child?”

We? Again Theresa felt as if she tottered on a precipice, balancing between the safety of not getting involved and the possibility that Cara could be in danger. Instead of jumping, she tried to calm Drew-and herself-with reason. “But they’d only been married a few weeks.”

“I can show you.” He dove for the table in front of her, rummaged around in the slippery piles of comics, and came up with a pink vinyl photo album. He plopped it on Theresa’s knees, startling her into spilling the coffee on her jeans.

She set the mug down after Drew cleared a spot among the comic books for the wet bottom. The photo album had a Hello Kitty emblem in one corner but no other markings. It had one subject: Jillian Perry.