The Silent Widow

But because he was a nice man.

Nikki was a few blocks from Williams’ office when she saw headlights flashing her from behind. At first she thought it must be some ticked-off driver she’d accidentally cut in front of. LA rush hour was full of angry, impatient assholes. But the lights kept flashing until at last they were followed by a single ‘whoop’ of a police siren. She realized she was being pulled over.

Irritated, she pulled to the side of the road and wound down her window.

‘Was I doing something wrong offic— Oh! It’s you.’

Detective Goodman’s handsome face smiled down at her. ‘I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last mile. Ever since you left Derek Williams’ office, in fact.’

Nikki flushed. ‘How do you know about Williams? Were you following me?’

‘Don’t sound so outraged,’ Goodman replied. ‘That’s my job. Part of it, anyway. I’m a detective and this is a murder inquiry. One in which you’re a potential target, in case you’d forgotten.’

His blue eyes locked with hers and once again Nikki was surprised by the strength of her attraction. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean to accuse you. I know you’re only doing your job. You surprised me, that’s all.’

‘Where are you headed right now?’ Goodman asked her.

‘Home,’ said Nikki.

‘Have you eaten yet?’

The question caught her off guard. ‘Not yet.’

‘Good. Follow me,’ Goodman said decisively. ‘I know a Greek place a few blocks away – you’ll love it. We should talk,’ he added, seeing Nikki hesitate. ‘About your new friend Mr Williams. There are some things you should know about him.’

Ten minutes later, Nikki found herself seated at a booth in the back of Stavros’ Taverna on Westwood Boulevard, opposite a noticeably relaxed Lou Goodman. The top two buttons of his shirt were open and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscular forearms. His skin was smooth and tanned, and his teeth almost offputtingly white when he smiled. Like the Big Bad Wolf, thought Nikki, although in truth there was nothing predatory about his manner. The reality was, she simply wasn’t used to spending time with single, attractive men. The awkwardness wasn’t helped by the fact that the last time they’d had dinner together, at Dan Tana’s, she’d gotten hammered and very nearly ended up in bed with him. And all the while, someone – perhaps the killer – had been watching them.

‘Maybe we’d better steer clear of the Retsina,’ Goodman said, reading her mind and ordering water and appetizers for the table. ‘I wouldn’t want to be accused of taking advantage of a lady.’

Sexual tension crackled in the air between them, but Nikki determinedly ignored it. Her life was complicated enough without romantic entanglements. Her feelings for Anne Bateman already took up three quarters of her available emotional energy, besides which she was still grieving Doug. She wasn’t ready.

‘So what is it that I need to know about Derek Williams?’ she asked.

‘Aside from the fact he’s a slob and a conspiracy theorist and a card-carrying cop-hater, you mean?’ Goodman observed caustically. ‘Quite a lot, actually.’

‘I like him,’ countered Nikki boldly.

‘Is that so?’ Goodman rose to the challenge with good humor. ‘Why?’

‘He’s authentic,’ said Nikki.

‘Authentic …’ Goodman repeated the word, apparently amused. ‘Well, that’s one way of putting it, I suppose. His loathing of our department is definitely authentic.’

‘And why is that, do you think?’ Nikki asked, genuinely curious. It was true that she had heard Derek badmouth the LAPD more than once.

Goodman took a sip of his drink. ‘He’d tell you it’s because we’re all corrupt and lazy and stupid,’ he told Nikki. ‘But the truth is it’s his own bitterness that drives him. He applied to join the force himself when he was younger, a bunch of times, and they turned him down.’

‘On what grounds?’ Nikki asked. ‘If you ask me, he’s a gifted detective.’

‘No idea,’ said Goodman. ‘Bad character? Impulsiveness? Derek Williams is not exactly what you’d call a team player. Whatever the reason, I guess he took it personally, because he’s been a thorn in the department’s side ever since. Sabotaging and obstructing cases. Compromising evidence, influencing witnesses. The drug squad literally have his picture on the wall of their rec room. They stick pins in it. Williams screwed those guys over so many times, they’ve lost count.’

Nikki felt confused. Goodman was obviously being sincere – and yet his description of a bitter, vengeful man didn’t square with the Derek Williams she knew.

‘This case is not about justice for him, whatever he might have told you,’ Goodman went on bitterly. ‘It’s about settling scores, a personal vendetta with us. That and money. He’ll bleed you dry if you let him. Out of interest, how much has he charged you already?’

Nikki halved the number she’d actually given Williams, but even that was embarrassingly high when she said it out loud.

‘Look, sweetheart, it’s your call,’ Goodman said, not unkindly. ‘But you heard it here first: the man’s a charlatan. Be careful what you share with him.’