Faye Kellerman - The Burnt House

“I can’t answer that because I don’t know, but I wouldn’t think so.”

“Did you actually see her board the aircraft?”

“Oh, boy.” Leslie thought for a moment. “I can’t swear to that, either, but I can’t imagine her not being on the flight since she told me she was on her way back home.” She took another sip of coffee. “I suppose it’s possible that she got a call from management…but at that hour of the morning?”

“Nothing on her cell,” Marge told her.

Decker said, “If Roseanne was in civilian clothing, does that mean she wasn’t working on the early-morning flight to Burbank…what was the flight number?”

“That would have been 1325, but we changed the numbers…obviously.”

“Okay, so say Roseanne boarded 1325 in civilian clothing. Does that mean she wasn’t working the flight?”

“I would say yes to that.”

“So if she wasn’t working 1325, do you have any idea why she would have jumped back onto flight 1324?”

“Maybe she was substituting at the last minute,” Leslie said. “Or by that time, maybe someone from management had called and asked her to come back up for another interview.”

“Nothing on her phone records indicated that,” Marge said.

“Maybe she called management on an office phone to save long-distance minutes,” Leslie said.

“Do you think she did that?” Decker asked.

“I don’t know, Lieutenant, I’m just throwing out possibilities.”

“We appreciate that,” Decker answered. “So she told you she had come up to San Jose to try to get a job based in the city.”

“Yes.”

“Any idea where she stayed?”

Leslie shrugged and averted her eyes. Marge said, “We’ve talked to Raymond Holmes, Ms. Bracco.”

“Please call me Leslie.” She smiled. “So you know about him.”

“Yes, we do,” Marge said. “Did Roseanne mention Mr. Holmes to you?”

She thought for several moments. “Not specifically to me, but it was common knowledge that they knew each other.”

“Do you know Raymond Holmes?” Decker asked.

“Oh yes. He used to travel WestAir quite a bit…not lately, though. Maybe Roseanne soured him on the airline.”

“And you know they had an affair.”

“He’d occasionally talk about Roseanne…where they went, what they did. I thought it was very tacky, but Roseanne was open, so I suppose he figured why not be open as well. Ray isn’t the most…modest of men. He used to brag about his financial prowess…trying to impress. It never impressed me.”

Marge said, “Mr. Holmes told us that he hadn’t seen Roseanne for about six months prior to the accident.”

Leslie said, “I wouldn’t know.”

“He also mentioned a girlfriend of Roseanne’s in San Jose…two of them actually.” Marge checked her notes, not because she forgot the names but to look official. “Christie and Janet or Janice.”

“Christie Peterson and Janice Valley. They’re both working as flight attendants for WestAir. Janice is based in Reno now…has been for the last four months, I believe. Christie lives in the area.”

“So it’s possible that Roseanne could have stayed with Christie?” Decker said.

“Certainly. Would you like me to call her for you? I feel better about that than my giving you her home phone number.”

“That would be great,” Decker said.

Leslie got up from the love seat and went behind closed doors. Ten minutes later, she emerged with several slips of paper. “Here’s her address and her telephone number. She said she could see you in about a half hour.”

“That would be perfect,” Decker said. “Did you ask her if Roseanne had stayed with her?”

“No, that’s not my business, that’s your business. I only told her that two detectives from L.A. are here and would like to speak to her about Roseanne. Christie was quite emotional. Please tread lightly.”

“That’s what we try to do,” Decker answered.

“I know. You’re only doing your job.” A sigh. “Since it’s going to be dark, I drew you a little map.”

“That’ll help,” Marge said. “Thanks so much.”

“Here’s my card if you think of anything else you want to ask me.”

Decker took it and reached inside his pocket. “And if you think of something germane to the case, here’s my card.”

Leslie took it, reached down from her purse, and pulled out a Sidekick. She entered the number with professional efficiency. “Done.”

Decker smiled. “You’re very thorough, ma’am. You’d be a terrific asset to any company.”

“Thank you.” Her smile was tinged with sadness. “I was always a compulsive person. I think it’s because of my background-alcoholic, abusive parents. If you’re unlucky, you fall into their same bad habits. If you’re lucky and you meet a man like Jack, you develop more benign habits as a way of coping with anxiety.”

W ITH A DECENT eye for detail, Holmes had described Christie Peterson accurately, down to her long legs and svelte calves. She topped out around five six and was very, very thin, her sweatpants ballooning around her like bellows. Since she was wearing a short-sleeve top, her twig arms were visible, elbows jutting out like nunchakus.

The flight attendant lived alone in a two-bedroom boxy condo near the heart of the city. Her furniture was functional and nondescript, sitting on wall-to-wall off-white Berber carpeting. She had prepared for the detectives’ visit by setting out a pitcher of water along with a bowl of mixed nuts. Sipping white wine, Christie had offered to pour Chardonnay for the detectives, but both of them had declined.

Decker explained why they had come for a visit and Christie had confirmed what both detectives had suspected. Roseanne had stayed the night with her. When they asked her about Roseanne’s state of mind, the flight attendant did not hesitate.

“She was upset with Ivan,” Christie told them.

“Did she tell you why?” Marge asked her.

“She sure did. It was that lap dancer he was seeing-Marissa or Melissa, something with an ‘M.’ Roseanne knew that they had a thing going, but what really infuriated her was that Ivan was still going to the club and spending money on her.” A soft laugh. “Roseanne felt that if he was screwing her, he should be getting it for free!”

“When did she contact you about staying at your place for the evening?”

“Hmm…I have to think.” Christie took another sip of wine. “Maybe around ten or eleven in the morning, I’d say.”

Marge pulled out Roseanne’s cell-phone records. “I have a call to a San Jose number at ten thirty-three A.M…” She gave her the date and read the digits out loud.

“That’s me,” Christie said.

“And do you remember what was said in that conversation?”

“Just that she was coming up and needed a place to crash for the evening. I heard the tension in her voice and asked if everything was okay. She told me she’d tell me all about it when we met. I didn’t push it.”

“When did you two get together?” Decker asked her.

“Around…sixish.” She licked her top lip and put down the wineglass. “We went out for a bite to eat. She was still upset. She did mention something about a fight, but she was clearly was more interested in the future. She had come up to interview for a transfer back to San Jose. She was seriously considering divorce and wanted to be closer to her parents.”

“Did she tell you what time she was interviewed?”

“No.” The flight attendant shook her head. “Nothing about the time.”

“How’d the interview go?” Marge asked her.

“Well. She said they had a position for her. She was happy. I remember her saying something like…‘at least something in my life is working out.’”