Carol Ericson - Brody Law

There was nothing regular about this date—or Elise Duran.

She stood up abruptly and grabbed the rim of her plate with both hands. “Are you still eating, or can I take your plate?”

He handed her the plate. “You can take it, but I’ll do the cleanup since I sort of invited myself over.”

“We’ll both do it. I’ll wrap up the food. If you can rinse the dishes, I’ll stick them in the dishwasher.”

“Deal.” He gathered the silverware and glasses and followed her to the kitchen. He ran the warm water and swiped a dish sponge across the streaks of tomato sauce and bits of cheese stuck to the plates.

Elise replaced the lids on the food containers and glanced over her shoulder. “You’re pretty good at that for a single guy, or maybe that’s why you are so good at it since you have to fend for yourself in the kitchen.”

“Believe me, I got a lot of practice growing up.”

“Ah, was your mom one of those liberated women who believed in teaching her sons how to do housework? Sounds like my kinda woman.”

He ducked his head to scrub at a stubborn piece of cheese. “My mom was...ill. My brothers and I did most of the work around the house.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That must’ve been tough on your dad, too.”

Why the hell had he brought up his childhood? A voice in the back of his head chided. You’re the one who wanted this to be a regular date.

“My dad...”

“Who opened an Italian eatery in my place and forgot to tell me?”

Courtney burst through the front door to save the day.

She waved a hand in front of her nose. “I can smell that garlic all the way down the hallway. The homeowners’ association is going to bring it up in their next meeting and give me a lecture.”

She dropped a laptop case and a leather briefcase in the corner of the room and spun around. “Oh, hello.”

Sean lifted a soapy hand. “Hope you don’t mind me barging in.”

Courtney’s dark eyes darted from his face to Elise’s. “Nope. How was your day, Elise? Those little monsters still running you ragged?”

“My kids are not little monsters. How about you? Busy day?”

“I saw a new client today. Those first sessions are always a little rough.” Courtney checked her phone and then connected it to her charger on the counter.

“Do you want some food before I finish wrapping it up?” Elise held up one of the containers.

“That’s okay.” Courtney pointed to her bags. “I picked up a sandwich in my building before I left, but I will have a glass of wine while you tell me what happened today that a cop has to follow you home and eat dinner with you.”

Elise sighed and stood on her tiptoes to reach for a bottle of wine in the cupboard. “If you insist.”

She opened the bottle and splashed a quantity of the ruby liquid in the glass. When she carried it to her friend, Sean joined them at the table.

Courtney sipped her wine as Elise told her what had happened at her school.

When she finished, Courtney threw back the rest of her wine and held out her glass for a refill. “That’s creepy, Elise. How did he know where you taught?”

Elise reached behind her for the bottle. “I had a pay stub in my purse. He probably got it from there. He may have even seen something on my phone. Heck, maybe he even did a search for me on the internet. It’s not like he doesn’t already know my name and address.”

Courtney turned to Sean. “What do those numbers mean?”

He slumped in the chair and stretched his legs in front of him. “The penal code for murder is 187. We figured the one plus one means two murders or two people. The six and twelve might mean tomorrow’s date.”

Courtney had covered her mouth with her hand, and it slid to her throat. “What about the other numbers?”

“Don’t know yet. I sent the note to the station, and one of the detectives is working on deciphering it.”

“Do you think there’s going to be another murder tomorrow?”

“If so, I hope the other numbers tell us where.”

“Who, what, when, where and how.” Elise took a sip of Courtney’s wine and puckered her lips. “Is that obnoxious journalist still bothering you?”

“What are you implying? Do you think he’s involved somehow?”

“Seems awfully anxious to get some big scoop.”

“That’s his job. It doesn’t mean he’s a killer.”

Courtney snapped her fingers. “I know that guy. Ray Lopez, right? I’ve seen him on the local news. He’s a big mouth, but he’s entertaining in a tabloid kinda way.”

“Yeah, that’s him. You’ve seen him do other stories?” Elise asked.

“He has that half-hour show after the news. I heard his promo today, and he’s going to feature Katie Duncan’s murder.”

“Great.” Sean rolled his eyes. He just hoped none of the officers had talked to Lopez and revealed any of the details they wanted to keep hidden from the public—like the severed finger.

“In fact—” Courtney rose from the table and stepped down into the living room, where she swept the remote from the coffee table “—I think he’s on right now.”

A commercial blared from the TV and Courtney tossed the remote on the couch. “I’m going to soak in the tub and scrub off my clients’ troubles. I’m sure I’ll see you later, Detective Brody.”

“Sean, and sorry again for intruding on your space.”

She waved a manicured hand. “Any...friend of Elise’s is welcome as long as she’s staying here.”

Sean turned back to the TV just as Lopez’s program began. As Courtney promised, Lopez jumped right into Katie Duncan’s murder and connected it to Elise’s escape the night before, although he didn’t mention Elise’s name on the air.

Lopez stared into the camera. “The autopsy report on Katie isn’t finished yet, but preliminary reports suggest she received a blow to the head before she was sliced.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” Elise crossed her arms and perched on the arm of the couch.

“Didn’t think I had to. We knew her murder was connected to your assailant.”

The next shot featured Lopez stationed in front of the Speakeasy, and Elise’s grip on her upper arms tightened.

“In the attack in front of this club, the killer pretended to be injured with a cast on his arm, and then used the plaster cast to viciously hit the victim over the head. This incapacitated her, and he was able to stuff her into the trunk of his vehicle.”

Lopez went on to describe the vehicle and show Elise’s composite sketch.

“We can turn this off.” Sean reached for the remote, but Elise snatched it up first.

“Wait. I want to watch the rest.”

As the half-hour show drew to a close, Lopez was back in the studio. “The interesting thing about these murders is that this city has seen something like this before.”

Sean’s eye twitched and he tightened his jaw. He wanted to punch his fist through the TV as Lopez continued blabbing.

“Almost twenty years ago, another serial killer in the city used the same M.O. He feigned an injury to lure in his victims, knocked them out and then cut them to ribbons.”

Elise murmured something that Sean couldn’t hear over the pounding in his head.

“That serial killer murdered five women but was never caught. And the strangest thing about that old case and this new one?” He paused for dramatic effect. “The killer twenty years ago was communicating with SFPD Homicide Detective Joseph Brody, and the current killer is communicating with Brody’s son, SFPD Homicide Detective Sean Brody.”

Elise gasped. “Sean?”

And then there it was. A picture of a young officer with dark hair and brooding eyes.

Not satisfied, Lopez continued in his awed voice. “The story gets even more bizarre. Detective Joseph Brody was actually suspected of being the murderer, and the killings stopped after Brody threw himself from the Golden Gate Bridge.”