Lisa Black - Evidence of Murder

“You’re not into video games?”

“Sure, I like them. But I’ve been to conventions with Jerry, and let me tell you, you get the feeling some of those people have lost the ability to distinguish between fantasy and reality. Of course you could probably say the same thing about Trekkies.”

“So Jillian wasn’t into video games either?”

“Nah. She tried Polizei, since Evan talked about it all the time, but she didn’t see the attraction. Besides, Cara kept her pretty busy.”

So Jillian wouldn’t have frozen to death trying to re-create a scene from the game, the way Dungeons & Dragons had been blamed for a few accidents over the years. “You introduced her to Evan?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know she was pregnant. She told him right away, but he didn’t care. That’s quite a guy who will take on someone else’s child. I spent a few years raising my sister’s kids, and in my heart of hearts I hold it against her. Can’t help it. But Evan, as far as he was concerned, Cara was his. He’s a good guy.” She held Theresa’s gaze when she said that, as if defying her to argue. “Jerry wouldn’t be his friend if he wasn’t.”

“And they were married only three weeks ago?”

“Four, now, yeah.” Her eyes grew damp at the recollection. “One of the prettiest weddings I’ve ever seen. Small, but perfect.”

“Any honeymoon?”

“No, not with Polezei Two still not done. All leaves canceled, that sort of thing. Besides, Jillian didn’t want to either leave Cara or travel with her; she’s still too little.”

A young man in a fuzzy sweatshirt zoomed in, dropped a thick file on Shelly’s desk, said, “Bath and cosmetic products, Atlanta, April twenty-second,” and zoomed out again.

“Goody.” Shelly opened a Day-Timer, made a note. “I love those free samples-one of the perks of the job.”

Theresa tried to think of her own job perks. Only the prodigious supply of latex gloves and an appreciation of anything that smelled nice came to mind. “Were Jillian and Evan having any problems?”

“That would make her suicidal? I doubt it. At least I don’t think so…”

Theresa waited.

“Not with Evan, I mean. But Jillian said once that she was the only family Cara had. I think she felt bad that her parents wouldn’t even come to see her.”

Theresa, not for the first time, gave silent thanks for having a mother who would have supported her if she had borne Adolf Hitler’s baby. “What’s up with them, anyway?”

“You ask me, it’s a control thing. Daddy controls the universe and his wife has to do what she’s told. Then baby girl has the nerve to not only not marry the football hero Daddy had picked out for her, but she leaves the house, works at a job he doesn’t want to explain to his friends, and gets knocked up by some mystery man she won’t even name.”

“Who is Cara’s father?”

“No idea.” Shelly shook her head. “I asked once or twice, encouraged her to get child support, and she said, ‘That knight’s armor has tarnished.’ That’s all, subject closed. When I said Jillian was sweet, I didn’t mean she made herself an open book. She hardly talked about herself at all. I liked her, but I can’t say I really knew her. I’d like to ask you, though, what about that woman found in the Cultural Gardens? Channel Fifteen says there may be a connection between her and Jillian and that teenager.”

“Channel Fifteen is wrong.”

“But this black woman was murdered?”

“Definitely.”

“And you’re investigating Jillian?” Who probably wasn’t, Shelly’s expression said. Because a white girl always got more action than a black chick, even if they were in a similar line of work.

“We’re investigating both of them, of course, but I don’t believe they’re connected. Sarah’s crime scene was quite different from Jillian’s.”

“Sarah?”

“Sarah Taylor. I’m sorry, but I can’t say more than that about an open investigation.” Shelly’s shoulders relaxed a bit, apparently reassured that Theresa at least knew the dead prostitute’s name. Theresa moved on. “Are you acquainted with her friend Drew Fleming?”

Shelly wrinkled a pert nose. “The comic-book guy? Yeah, I’ve met him.”

“You don’t like him?”

“I guess he’s okay. Seems like a nice guy.” Shelly pressed her lips together, cutting off any further comment.

So Theresa pressed. “Seems?”

Now Shelly nibbled on the bottom lip. “Weird. Way too obsessed with Jillian. He came to the wedding, standing in this room full of people, and he never stopped staring at her. I tried to talk to him, he answered in monosyllables, never looked me in the eye. She made a beautiful bride, but come on . It seemed creepy to me.”

“Did Evan resent this?”

“Another man worshipping his woman from afar? Why would he?”

That fit, in more genteel language, with what Evan had let the boys at the tech show assume. “Because Drew didn’t stay afar. He kept seeing Jillian, even after the wedding.”

“Look at Drew and look at Evan. No contest. Nothing to worry about there.” The idea made her smile, but then the grin faded, changed to something worried. “You don’t think Drew could have done something to her, do you? Picked her up, had an argument, dropped her off at the beach and told her to walk, and she couldn’t make it?”

It didn’t sound as if Shelly knew where Drew lived, and Theresa didn’t see the need to enlighten her-yet she had to stop feeling protective of Drew just because he reminded her of a few geeky cousins and uncles of her own. His proximity to the scene, his moodiness, hung in her mind, a faint but persistent fog of doubt. “Even from the beach it’s a short walk to the street. She could have gotten to a warm store or a gas station, used the phone.”

Another young man, this one wearing a dress shirt and too much facial hair, stopped in the doorway. “Shelly, we need-”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

“I’m sorry,” Theresa said. “You’re busy.”

“That’s all right. Anything I can do…I really want to know what happened. Jillian was my friend.”

Theresa pulled out the picture of the letterhead on Evan’s nightstand. “Just one more thing-do you recognize this logo?”

“Yes. It’s one of the company’s investors-Evan and Jerry’s, I mean, not Delta. Why?”

“What’s their name, this investment group?”

Shelly’s parents had obviously taught her to tell the truth, but right now Theresa wondered if the girl wished they hadn’t. “Griffin Investments.”

Theresa looked again at her own photo with genuine surprise. “And they don’t use a griffin as their logo?”

This non sequitur must have reassured Shelly, who laughed and added, “They’re out of Detroit, I think. Why?”

“Just curious, really.” Theresa stood. “I’d like to talk to Jerry too. Do you think he’d mind?”

Shelly put out a hand to shake. “I’m sure he wouldn’t. He’d like an answer as much as me, or Evan.”

I wonder, Theresa thought as she waited by the expired meter for a chance to dart onto East Fourteenth and enter her car. Shelly would like to know the truth about Jillian’s demise, but Theresa wondered if Evan would be more than content to write off his wife as a suicide. Assuming Jerry Graham had nothing to do with Jillian or her death, whose wishes would he side with? His girlfriend’s or his partner’s?

Only one way to find out.

Problem was, she didn’t know where to find Jerry Graham, and knew only one place to look. Theresa pulled out of the parking spot and headed for the freeway instead of the lab. Leo might wonder what had happened to her, but she would think of something to tell him. Quitting time grew nigh anyway.