“Something wrong?” Molinari said when I hung up.
I shook my head. “A friend... She threw her husband out last night. We were supposed to talk. It's just that the guy's turned into a real creep.”
“She's lucky, then,” Molinari said, “to have a cop for a friend.”
The thought amused me. Jill lucky to have a cop for a friend. I thought of calling her at the office, but she'd get back to me as soon as she turned on her phone. “Trust me, she can handle herself.”
We turned on the ramp to the Bay Bridge. I didn't even have to use the top hat, as there was almost no traffic into the city. “Smooth sailing,” I said. “We caught a break. Finally.”
“Listen, Lindsay...” Molinari turned to me, his tone changed. “What do you think about having dinner with me tonight?”
“Dinner?” I thought for a second. I turned to him. “I think we know that might not be the best idea.”
Molinari nodded in a resigned way, as if the thought got the better of him. “Still, we both gotta eat....” He curled a smile.
Holding the wheel, I felt my palms starting to sweat. Geez. There were a hundred reasons why this could be wrong. But hell, we had lives, too.
I looked at Molinari and smiled. “We gotta eat.”
Womans Murder Club 3 - 3rd Degree
Chapter 59
THE LATEST E-MAIL had Cindy rocking back on her heels. For once, she was in the story, not just merely writing it.
And she felt a little scared. Who could blame her, with what was going on? But for the first time in her career, she also felt that she was really doing some good. And that's what thrilled her. She sucked in a deep breath and faced the screen of her computer.
That wasn't us in Portland, the message had said.
But why disclaim the killing? Why the five-word denial, nothing more?
To separate themselves. To distinguish their crusade from a copycat killer. That seemed obvious.
But the knot growing in her stomach told her that maybe there was something more.
Maybe she was pressing too hard. But what if - completely outside the box - what if what was coming through wasn't a denial, but something else. A conscience.
No, that's crazy, she thought. These people had blown up Morton Lightower's town house with his wife and a child inside. They had shoved horrible poison down Bengosian's throat. But they had spared little Caitlin.
There was something else.... She suspected that the person corresponding might be a woman. She had referred to “her sisters in bondage.” And she'd chosen to write to her. There were plenty of other reporters in the city. Why her?
Cindy was thinking that if there was any humanity in this person, maybe she could reach it. Maybe she could tap into it. Reveal something. A name, a place. Maybe it was the au pair writing, and maybe she did have a heart.
Cindy cracked her knuckles and leaned over the key-board. Here goes...
She typed:
Tell me, why are you doing these things? I think you are a woman. Are you? There are bet-ter ways to achieve your goals than killing people who the world views as innocent. You can use me. I can get the message out. Please...I told you I was listening. I am.... Use me. Please...Don't kill anymore.
She read it over. It was a long shot. Longer than a long shot.
And she felt, pausing over the message, that if she sent it, she really would enter the story, that her whole life would change.
“Sayonara,” she whispered to her old life - the one of passively watching and writing. She pressed SEND.
Womans Murder Club 3 - 3rd Degree
Chapter 60
IT WAS HARD working the rest of the day. I met with Trac-chio for an hour and had Jacobi and Cappy retrace the bars around Berkeley with Hardaway's photo. Every once in a while I felt my mind drifting and my heart beating a little faster when I thought about tonight. But as Joe Molinari had said, we gotta eat.
Later, in the shower at home, inhaling a fresh lavender smell as I rinsed myself clean from the day, a guilty smile spread over my face: Here I am, a glass of Sancerre on the ledge, my skin tingling like a girl on her first date.
I hurried around, straightening up a bit; arranged the bookshelf; checked the bird roasting in the oven; fed Martha; set the table overlooking the bay. Then I realized I still hadn't heard from Jill. This was crazy. Still in my towel and wet hair, I placed another call to her. “This is getting ridiculous. C'mon, get back to me. I need to know how you are....”
I was about to call Claire to see if she had heard from Jill when the buzzer rang.
The front door buzzer!
Shit, it's only 7:45.
Molinari was early.
I threw another towel around my hair and frantically hopped around - dimming lights, taking out another wine-glass. I finally went to the front door. “Who's there?”
“Advance team for Homeland Security,” Molinari called.
“Yeah, well, you're early, Homeland Security. Anyone ever tell you about buzzing up from the outside door?”
“We generally bypass those things.”
“Look, I'm gonna let you in, but you can't look.” I couldn't believe I was standing there in my towel. “I'm opening the door.”
“My eyes are closed.”
“They'd better be.” Martha came up beside me. “I've got a dog who's very protective of me....”
I unlocked the door, opened it slowly.
Molinari stood there, his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder. A bouquet of daffodils. Eyes wide open.
“You promised.” I took a step back, blushing.
“Don't blush.” Molinari stood there, smiling. “You're gorgeous.”
“This is Martha,” I said. “You behave, Martha, or Joe'll have you tossed into a doghouse in Guant namo. I've seen him work.”
“Hey, Martha.” Molinari squatted down. He massaged her head behind the ears until she closed her eyes. “You're gor-geous, too, Martha.”
Molinari stood up, and I grabbed my towel tighter. He grinned a little.
“You think Martha would get upset if I said I was dying to see what's under that towel?”
I shook my head, and the towel covering my hair fell away to the floor. “How's that?”
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Molinari said.
“While you two are talking,” I said, backing away, “I'll get dressed. There's wine in the fridge, vodka and scotch on the counter. And there's a bird in the oven if you have an urge to baste.”
“Lindsay,” Molinari said.
I stopped. “Yes...”
He took a step toward me. My heart stopped - except for the part that was beating violently out of control.
He put his hands on my shoulders. I felt myself shudder, then seem to sway very slightly in his hands. He put his face close. “How long did you say before that bird is ready?”
“Forty minutes.” Every little hair on my arms stood on edge. “Or so.”
“Too bad...” Molinari smiled. “But it'll have to do.”
And just like that, he kissed me. His mouth was strong, and as soon as he touched my lips heat shot through me. I liked his kiss and I kissed him back. He ran his hands down the length of my back, pressed me close. I liked his touch, too. Hell, I liked him.
My bath towel fell to the floor.
“I have to warn you,” I said. “Martha's a terror if someone gets the wrong idea.”
He glanced over at Martha. She was curled up in a ball. “I don't think I have the wrong idea.”
Womans Murder Club 3 - 3rd Degree
Chapter 61
JOE MOLINARI was facing me, and the bed sheets were rum-pled in a mess around us. I was noticing that he was even bet-ter looking up close. His eyes were deep blue and had a nice sparkle to them.