Not that he anticipated that in this case. Not from the client herself, anyway. After three full hours in Dr Nikki Roberts’ company, Derek had emerged in possession of three important new pieces of information.
The first was that he stood to make a LOT of money here, if he played his cards right.
The second was that fate had handed him a rare chance to put one over on his old enemy, the Los Angeles Police Department.
And the third was, taking this case would mean putting himself in real and immediate physical danger.
Ironically, it was the third fact that gave him the biggest thrill of all. It had been a long, long time since Derek had put himself out there. Since he’d been on the edge, taking real risks, living on adrenaline like he used to in the old days, B.L. (Before Lorraine). He hadn’t realized until this morning’s conversation with Nikki quite how much he’d missed it.
Dropping two Alka-Seltzers into a large glass of tap water – last night’s heavy drinking combined with this morning’s bacon-and-syrup fest had not helped his digestion – he eased his ample backside into the creaky faux leather of his desk chair, stretched out his short legs, and downed the unpleasant mixture in one gulp. Then he pulled an old-fashioned notepad out of his desk drawer and began writing. He started with the familiar, shorthand bullet points he always used after the first client meeting, at the beginning of every case. But soon his prose was flowing, his observations filling page after page.
Nikki Roberts was a fascinating
woman, and the mystery she’d presented him with was even more unusual than she was. In fact, the way Williams saw it, it was two mysteries, as he explained carefully when he charged Nikki double his usual fees.
‘There’s your husband’s affair. You want to know who the lady was, how they met, all of that stuff?’
‘Right,’ said Nikki.
‘So that’s case one. And then there’s these murders, and the threats against you. You want me to find out who’s behind them. Basically to do the LAPD’s job for them?’
‘Precisely.’
‘And that’s case two.’
Nikki hadn’t batted an eyelid, writing Derek out a check on the spot for a month’s full-time work at double his usual rate, plus a generous expenses allowance. Williams was starting to like this lady more and more.
He quickly ascertained that it was the husband’s affair that would prove to be the biggest cash cow here. Not least because that case was all his – presumably the LAPD didn’t give a shit who Dr Doug Roberts had or hadn’t been banging – and why should they? Which meant that, theoretically at least, Derek could drag that investigation out longer. Like all PIs, adultery was the bread-and-butter of Williams’ business, and he thanked the Lord daily for all the sinners out there in West Los Angeles.
The homicide cases were more complicated. On the downside, there was always a chance that the useless LAPD would catch this so-called Zombie Killer or at least make an arrest soon, before Derek’s first month’s money was spent. On the other hand, according to Nikki, they’d achieved diddly squat so far and weren’t taking the threats against her seriously. No one seemed to be following up on the SUV driver who’d tried to run her down, or on the witness who’d saved her life. Nikki’s faith in the police was so low at this point she hadn’t even bothered to show them the email threats against her, but instead brought those directly to Williams.
Another excellent sign. The more evidence he had, the better his chances of getting to the finish line before LA’s finest.
Yup, all in all, this had the makings of quite an assignment.
The murders themselves fascinated him. Like everyone else, Derek had followed the story in the papers and on TV. Willie Baden’s very young, very beautiful mistress – who also happened to be one of Nikki Roberts’ patients – had been horribly tortured by a knife-wielding maniac, before being stabbed in the heart and her corpse dumped, naked, in scrubland beside the freeway. Three days later, a young African American boy named Treyvon Raymond – Nikki Roberts’ assistant and close family friend – had met the exact same fate, surviving long enough to make it to the hospital, but passing away before he could identify his assailant. So far so horrible. But it got worse. Baden’s mistress had evidently fought for her life, and some of the killer’s DNA had been preserved under her fingernails. After multiple leaks about those samples containing dead human cells, the whole ‘zombie’ soap opera took off in earnest, first on the internet and later in the mainstream media. It was truly ridiculous what people were prepared to believe these days. Back in the real world, however, no one had been arrested for either killing, never mind charged. No clear motive had been established. The whole thing was a genuine mystery.
‘So LAPD still have no suspects?’ Williams asked Nikki.
‘Not officially. Although I think one of the detectives on the case, Johnson, suspects me. He certainly treats me like a criminal every time I speak to him.’
‘I wouldn’t read too much into that,’ said Williams. ‘All cops are rude.’
Not all, thought Nikki, thinking of the charming Goodman. But she kept the thought to herself. Instead, to Williams’ astonishment, she blew things wide open right off the bat by admitting to him that she’d lied to detectives in her interview.
‘They asked me if I knew a boy named Brandon Grolsch. I said no. But I do know him. At least, I did. He used to be a patient of mine. My husband referred him to me, through one of his clinics.’
‘Why were they asking about this boy? And why’d you lie?’ Williams asked.
Nikki shrugged. ‘I’m not sure why they were asking. I presume because they thought he might have been involved in the murders. But I know he wasn’t. Brandon wasn’t capable of anything like that. He was very gentle, very sweet.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘I suppose I lied to protect him. I didn’t really think about it at the time.’
‘You do realize that’s obstruction of justice?’ Williams pointed out. ‘If the cops found out and wanted to get nasty about it, they could.’
‘I know, but I don’t care,’ Nikki said boldly. ‘The fact is, I don’t trust them, Mr Williams.’
Williams could have high-fived her then and there. Well, that makes two of us, honey. ‘But you trust me?’
‘I’m paying you,’ Nikki grinned. ‘That creates a very different dynamic.’