“Absolutely. Lee hasn’t been able to… perform for over ten years. Prostate problems.”
“Abuse isn’t necessarily defined by penetration.”
Senta shook her head emphatically. “There was nothing like that. The truth is, Lee was indifferent to our daughter. Oh, he tolerated her, but only because she was pretty and smart and he could show her off to his political associates. He simply didn’t acknowledge her, unless the occasion suited his needs.
“I ask you, do you see him here today? He wasn’t here yesterday when I got the news. I waited up till nearly one o’clock to tell him. Then he pretended grief-he’s a very good pretender-and gave me a sedative and held me in bed. But at four-thirty in the morning I heard him talking on the phone. And he left at seven, telling me I should arrange for her exhumation from wherever the city buried her so she can be interred in the family plot. Oh, yes, and to call people and plan for a memorial service. God knows what he wants me to tell them she died of.”
Rage glinted in Senta’s eyes. “I will do all of that, out of respect and love for my daughter. And then I will leave Lee-this time for good.”
“His indifference to your daughter-do you have any idea what it stemmed from?”
Senta didn’t reply for a moment, looking down at her hands. “Oh, well, what does it matter now? Lee and I were separated at the time Alicia was conceived. We were seeing others, but we also… got together a few times. All the same, he thought she wasn’t his daughter.”
“Was she?”
“I’m not certain. I offered to have a paternity test run, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Even though the records would be confidential, he was afraid information would leak out. With Lee, everything is about his reputation.”
“So he raised her as his own.”
“He gave her everything a child could need or want-except love.”
“I’d like to talk with your husband.”
“Good luck. Maybe you can catch up with him at Pro Terra Party headquarters. But that’s no guarantee he’ll give you the time of day-not where his family is concerned.”
MICK SAVAGE
He was feeling at loose ends and kind of brain-fogged after his meeting with Craig and Diane, so he took a walk south on the Embarcadero to clear his head. Sat down on one of the granite blocks with the bronze octopus sculptures embedded in it, patting the head of one and staring out over the bay. The day was clear. Runners pounded by on the pavement. Pleasure boats sailed past on the water, probably heading for McCovey Cove by the ballpark; there was a Giants game going on today.
Diane’s lecture on city government had bored him. All those special interests fighting each other, all the rivalries and the feuds and the scandals. Didn’t anybody think of the common good any more? No-it was me, me, me.
He’d been like that once, a consequence of growing up poor and then having the money gush in when his dad finally made it big in the music business. They’d gone from a tiny rental house to a bigger one that they owned, and then an even bigger one, and finally to a huge estate in the hills above La Jolla. An ancient VW bus was dumped in favor of a Porsche for his dad and a Mercedes for his mom. Other costly cars followed. They shopped constantly; they took trips to exclusive resorts; they built a desert compound south of Tucson, complete with recording studio.
I need, I want, I must have…
No longer his philosophy. The irony being that he and Derek were about to get rich off this new software they’d developed.
Rich didn’t mean happy, though. Not even contented. He’d seen that in the decline and explosive end of his parents’ marriage. Thank God they’d both found other people to love and made peace between themselves.
Okay, enough of that, he told himself. Concentrate on the case.
Sex tapes involving city and state officials. Three murders. Missing document signed only hours before the killings. Exchange of money between Janssen and Teller implied. Other documents missing from city hall. No telling how many highly placed officials were involved in this mess…
The voice on Craig’s audiotape of what Janssen had said to Teller at the lodge: “You think you’ve pulled off a big coup, but these people are dangerous. Consider what they did to Harvey.”
What people?
Mick stared out at a sailboat on the bay. Rubbed the bronze octopus head for luck, and stood up.
Time to talk with Shar.
SHARON McCONE
Hy seemed cheerful when he came into my room and plunked an orchid plant on the roll-away table. Yellow flowers. Pretty. Was he planning to replace the weekly roses with orchids, run the gamut from yellow to deep, dark red again?
Or is the transition to yellow a sign that his love’s weakening, now that he’s saddled with a silent, motionless mummy of a wife?
Don’t go there, McCone. You’re only entertaining such ideas because you’re feeling lousy today.
He kissed me, chased the bad notion away for a while. Flopped in the chair, looking pleased with himself.
“I went over that file about the work you did last year for Amanda Teller again. Deep background on a Cheryl Fitzgerald and a Don Beckman. Founders of the Pro Terra Party, which put Paul Janssen in the state house of representatives.”
I wanted to blink, but weariness overcame me. Something wrong, a new low point. Today everything felt negative. Was negative. My breathing wasn’t right and my head hurt. Why didn’t Hy notice?
He added, “I sense connections, but I can’t quite put them together.”
I drew a labored breath, shut my eyes.
“What I want to do is call a staff meeting first thing tomorrow morning. Here. I’ve already cleared it with Saxnay. Is it okay with you?”
With an effort, I opened my eyes, then blinked.
“Great. I’ll get Ted started on setting it up.”
Why don’t you notice something’s wrong with me, Ripinsky?
And what else are you getting started on? What about this deal with Len Weathers?
God, there had to be some way to communicate with the man! Tell him how bad I felt. Tell him to change course where Weathers was concerned.
But I was so tired.
I closed my eyes.
“We’re going to beat this, McCone. I know we are.”
Maybe not.
JULIA RAFAEL
Shar had told her to dig, so she did. Also asked Thelia and Diane to help her.
More background on Haven Dietz. Nothing there she didn’t already know. Phone calls to Dietz’s former friends and colleagues. Most of them weren’t available. She left messages, doubting her calls would be returned.
Julia found she was retracing old ground, repeating things she’d done in the early stages of her investigation. The report Thelia gave her on Dietz’s finances was identical to one already on file: Dietz was living on disability payments; she had few assets. Nothing was forthcoming from Diane.
Dios, maybe she wasn’t cut out for this kind of work after all. She couldn’t get an original angle on the case. She felt like the driver of a car stuck in sand who kept accelerating and digging it in deeper. That wasn’t the kind of digging Shar wanted her to do.
She went to the conference room where the coffeepot was. About half a cup left-dark and yucky-looking. She poured it into a mug anyway. While she was there, trying not to choke on the strong brew, Ted stuck his head through the door.
“I can make more of that, if you like.”
“No, thanks. Ted, you’ve known Shar a long time. Has she ever been stuck on a case? So stuck that she never solved it?”
“Not exactly, but…” He came all the way into the room, the fluorescents highlighting the gray streaks in his black hair and goatee, and leaned on the edge of the table.