1st to Die (Women's Murder Club 1)

“Maybe. First I thought I could ask you a couple of questions.”

“Try Diane up front. She can tell you the whole deal.”

“I wasn’t talking Tae-Bo.” I flashed her my badge. “I’m talking Nicholas Jenks.”

Joanna stared at me, flapping her blond ponytail off her shoulders to cool her neck. She smirked. “What’d he do, get caught shoplifting one of his books out of Stacey’s downtown?”

“Can we talk?” I asked.

She shrugged and led me over to a changing area that was unoccupied. “So what could I tell you about Nick that you couldn’t find out from one of his jacket flaps?”

“I know it was several years ago,” I said, “but you once filed a domestic complaint against him.”

“Listen, in case the paperwork didn’t catch up, I dropped the charge back then.”

I could see the terror of the moment exploding all over again for her. “Look,” I said genuinely, “no one’s trying to dig up old wounds, Ms. Wade. I’d just like a read on your ex-husband.”

“Up to his old tricks again?”

I could see her sizing me up. Was I an ally or a foe? Then she let out a capitulating breath and looked right at me.

“If you’re here about Chessy, I could’ve warned her. If he hadn’t been such a creep about how he dumped me. How did he put it, I write through her, Jo. She inspires me. You ever read his books, Inspector?” she asked. “She didn’t have to inspire him by holding a job down while he went off and found himself, did she? She didn’t have to read his drafts, deal with his rages when he got rejected, tell him every night how much she believed in him. You know where he met her? In the makeup room at Entertainment Tonight.”

“What I’m asking, Ms. Wade,” I said, “is how violent is Nicholas Jenks?”

She paused, looked away. When she turned back, her eyes had filled up as if she were about to cry.

“You know, you come in here after all this time and make me go through this again. What do you want me to say? That his mother didn’t love him? That he’s a screwed-up, dangerous man? Life with Nick…it’s so hard. He’s holding something in and God only knows when it’s going to come out. I would ask myself, Why? What had I done? I was just a kid.” Her eyes glistened.

“I’m sorry.” I truly felt for her. For both Mrs. Jenkses. I couldn’t even imagine what it was like to wake up and find myself married to someone like him.

“I need to ask,” I said. “What are the chances things with your ex-husband have intensified? Become more serious.”

She looked stunned. “Is Chessy all right, Inspector?”

“Chessy’s all right.” I nodded, making it clear I felt there were others who might not be.

She waited for me to blink. When I didn’t, she gave me a mirthless laugh. “So I guess we’re talking a lot deeper than pilfering a book from Stacey’s bookstore?”

I nodded again. Woman to woman now, I said, “I need to ask you a crucial question, Ms. Wade.”

Chapter 79

WHAT I ASKED JOANNA WADE was whether Nicholas Jenks was capable of murder. I couldn’t tell her the reason, but it didn’t matter. Joanna was a quick study. I saw the shock in her eyes. After she calmed, I watched her go through a thoughtful evaluation.

Finally, she looked at me and asked again, “Have you ever read his books, Inspector?”

“One, Fatal Charm. Tough book.”

“He lives with those characters, Inspector. Sometimes I think he forgets it’s only what he does for a living.”

I saw the self-judging look in her eyes. I leaned in closer. “I don’t mean to hurt you. But I have to know.”

“Could he kill? Is he capable of murder? I know he’s capable of completely debasing another human being. That’s murder, isn’t it? He’s what they call a sexual sadist. His father used to beat his mother in their bedroom closet as an aphrodisiac. He preys on weakness. Yes, the famous Nicholas Jenks humiliated me…. But let me tell you the worst thing, the very worst. He left me, Inspector. I didn’t leave him.”

Joanna leaned back and gave me sort of a compassionate smile. “I’ve seen Chessy around a few times. Luncheons, benefits. We’ve even spoken a bit. He hasn’t changed. She knows I know exactly what she’s going through. But it’s something we can’t share. I see the fear. I know how it is. When she looks in the mirror, she no longer recognizes the person she once was.”

My blood was at the boiling point. Through the tough veneer, I saw a glimpse of the woman Joanna Wade had been — young, needing, confused.