Read Online Looking for Yesterday by Marcia Muller - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marcia Muller
Tags: Suspense
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Gwen?” Gwen Verke, Michelle’s foster sister.
“Nope. Gwen was staying at a friend’s from school, and my parents took a few vacation days and went to visit relatives in the Santa Barbara area—where it’s not raining.”
I felt a stab of envy for anyone who was anyplace where it wasn’t raining. While growing up in San Diego I’d mistakenly assumed that mostly sunny, warm days were the norm. Even in Berkeley and San Francisco conditions were usually good. But then came global warming—which many people claim doesn’t exist, but if not, how do you explain the polar ice melt and radical changes in weather patterns throughout the world? And the devastating flooding, tornadoes, hurricanes, and earthquakes in places where such disasters have never been heard of?
“You working a case?” Chelle asked. “Can I help?”
She’d helped me before; her parents would kill me if I enlisted her again.
“I’ve got this one under control,” I said, “but if I need assistance, I’ll call on you.”
7:00 p.m.
Devlin Fast was punctual to the minute. He ushered me into his cubicle at exactly seven o’clock.
Fast was one of the department’s black recruits who had risen quickly through the ranks in a period when the city was demanding racial diversity—in a way very similar to my operative Adah Joslyn, who had become their poster officer because she was female, half black, and half Jewish. Adah had gotten fed up with the bullshit of a police force in chaos and quit to work for me, but Fast was loyal and by-the-book. If he had his problems with the department—which I was sure he did, because he was an extremely intelligent man—he kept them to himself.
“So,” he said as we sat across the desk from one another, “the Carolyn Warrick murder. She was your client?”
“Yes. She wanted me to reaffirm her acquittal, turn up more facts for a true-crime book she was coauthoring. What about the physical evidence in her murder—the hammer, blood?”
“The hammer was one you can buy in any Ace Hardware. Had been used, had some scoring on the head and claws, but not much. Prints on the handle belong to Ms. Warrick.”
“So she might’ve brought it along with her as a defensive weapon. She never said anything to me, but she could have been afraid someone was following her.”
“Paranoid, was she?”
“Could have been. I don’t know—we only met twice, once in my office and once at her apartment.”
“And you have no idea why she went to your house that night?”
“Yes, I do. She had an envelope with my name on it.”
“The contents?”
“Old clippings about her case. Nothing I didn’t already know. Probably the same as her biographer has.”
“So why take them to you?”
“She wanted me to be current on how the project was going.” God, the lies I tell! Must’ve learned that art when my parents made me go to confession.
I couldn’t tell whether Fast believed me or not. He simply said, “Make me copies, will you?”
“Sure.”
“You know, she’d hired a couple of PIs before. But unlike the other investigators she dealt with, you’ve got a reputation for results.”
“May I have the names of the other investigators?”
“I’ll e-mail them to you as soon as I’ve gone over the old files.” He frowned. “I don’t understand why Warrick would want to stir up trouble. My former partner was on the case, and I attended a couple of days of the trial. So let’s say I’m dubious about the verdict.”
“Please, give me your impressions.”
Fast’s broad face became contemplative. “Ms. Warrick was an obsessive personality, so much so that she turned down an offer to return to her former position at the SF Violence Prevention Center in order to undertake this…nonsensical pursuit. As for the facts of the case, a number of times she warned her ex-boyfriend Jake Green to stay away from Amelia Bettencourt. Green interpreted the warnings as threats. The evidence in the case was tampered
“Nope. Gwen was staying at a friend’s from school, and my parents took a few vacation days and went to visit relatives in the Santa Barbara area—where it’s not raining.”
I felt a stab of envy for anyone who was anyplace where it wasn’t raining. While growing up in San Diego I’d mistakenly assumed that mostly sunny, warm days were the norm. Even in Berkeley and San Francisco conditions were usually good. But then came global warming—which many people claim doesn’t exist, but if not, how do you explain the polar ice melt and radical changes in weather patterns throughout the world? And the devastating flooding, tornadoes, hurricanes, and earthquakes in places where such disasters have never been heard of?
“You working a case?” Chelle asked. “Can I help?”
She’d helped me before; her parents would kill me if I enlisted her again.
“I’ve got this one under control,” I said, “but if I need assistance, I’ll call on you.”
7:00 p.m.
Devlin Fast was punctual to the minute. He ushered me into his cubicle at exactly seven o’clock.
Fast was one of the department’s black recruits who had risen quickly through the ranks in a period when the city was demanding racial diversity—in a way very similar to my operative Adah Joslyn, who had become their poster officer because she was female, half black, and half Jewish. Adah had gotten fed up with the bullshit of a police force in chaos and quit to work for me, but Fast was loyal and by-the-book. If he had his problems with the department—which I was sure he did, because he was an extremely intelligent man—he kept them to himself.
“So,” he said as we sat across the desk from one another, “the Carolyn Warrick murder. She was your client?”
“Yes. She wanted me to reaffirm her acquittal, turn up more facts for a true-crime book she was coauthoring. What about the physical evidence in her murder—the hammer, blood?”
“The hammer was one you can buy in any Ace Hardware. Had been used, had some scoring on the head and claws, but not much. Prints on the handle belong to Ms. Warrick.”
“So she might’ve brought it along with her as a defensive weapon. She never said anything to me, but she could have been afraid someone was following her.”
“Paranoid, was she?”
“Could have been. I don’t know—we only met twice, once in my office and once at her apartment.”
“And you have no idea why she went to your house that night?”
“Yes, I do. She had an envelope with my name on it.”
“The contents?”
“Old clippings about her case. Nothing I didn’t already know. Probably the same as her biographer has.”
“So why take them to you?”
“She wanted me to be current on how the project was going.” God, the lies I tell! Must’ve learned that art when my parents made me go to confession.
I couldn’t tell whether Fast believed me or not. He simply said, “Make me copies, will you?”
“Sure.”
“You know, she’d hired a couple of PIs before. But unlike the other investigators she dealt with, you’ve got a reputation for results.”
“May I have the names of the other investigators?”
“I’ll e-mail them to you as soon as I’ve gone over the old files.” He frowned. “I don’t understand why Warrick would want to stir up trouble. My former partner was on the case, and I attended a couple of days of the trial. So let’s say I’m dubious about the verdict.”
“Please, give me your impressions.”
Fast’s broad face became contemplative. “Ms. Warrick was an obsessive personality, so much so that she turned down an offer to return to her former position at the SF Violence Prevention Center in order to undertake this…nonsensical pursuit. As for the facts of the case, a number of times she warned her ex-boyfriend Jake Green to stay away from Amelia Bettencourt. Green interpreted the warnings as threats. The evidence in the case was tampered
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