1st to Die (Women's Murder Club 1) - Page 40
“Hard to believe,” he went on, “it was written by a man.”
“I’ll let you know.” She flipped a few pages, then added. “My fiancé gave it to me.”
Phillip Campbell felt the short, thin hairs on his arms stand up.
His heart began to throb. He ran a tremulous finger along the edge of his goatee.
“Oh — when’s the big day?”
Chapter 39
RALEIGH DROVE back to town in our car. I hung around and caught a ride with Claire. I needed to tell her what was going on with me. Claire and I have been best friends for years. We talk at least once every day. I knew why I was having trouble telling her about my illness — I didn’t want to hurt her. Or to burden her with my problems. I loved her so much.
As the M.E.’s van bumped down the mountain road, I asked if she had been able to pick up anything at the murder scene.
“There was definitely sexual activity going on before they were killed,” she replied confidently. “I could see labial distension around the vagina. Secretions on her thighs.
“This is guesswork — I only had a few minutes — but I think the husband was shot first, Lindsay. The one clean wound to the head suggests he was dispatched without resistance. Head on. Woun
ds on Rebecca indicate something else. She was shot from the rear. Through the shoulder blades, the neck. From a distance, I would estimate, of no more than three to five feet. If the semen matches up and they were in the act when it took place, it suggests that she was on top. That would mean someone had to get in fairly close, unobserved, while they were at it. Come up at them from behind her. Since you said they didn’t use their own car that night, they were obviously on their way somewhere. I think it’s consistent with your theory that they were in some kind of vehicle when this took place. The killer in the front seat. So why not a limousine?”
“That’s all?” I shook my head and smiled at Claire.
“Like I said, I only had a few minutes. Anyway, it was your theory. If it ends up proving out, all I did was connect the dots.”
We drove on a bit. I was still fumbling for the right words.
Claire asked, “So how’s the new partner?”
I gave her an affirming nod. “Turns out he’s okay. He’s backed me up with Roth and Mercer.”
“And you were so sure he was only a watchdog from the mayor’s office.”
“So I was wrong.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you ended up wrong about a guy,” Claire said.
I wrinkled my face in pretended offense and ignored her grin.
“Anyway, watchdog or not,” Claire continued, “he’s a damn sight better to look at than Jacobi.”
“Smarter, too. When we drove up to Napa yesterday, I flipped on the stereo in his Explorer. A tape of The Shipping News came on.”
“So,” Claire went on, with a look of inquisitiveness, “anything going on?”
“You mean other than four innocent people being killed?”
“I mean with Chris Raleigh, Lindsay. He’s working out of the mayor’s office, he’s a hunk, and your social calendar isn’t exactly Gwyneth Paltrow’s. You can’t tell me he’s not your type.”
“We’ve been wrapped up in the case, Claire.”
“Yeah.” She chortled. “He’s not married, right?”
“C’mon, Claire,” I pleaded. “I’m just not ready.”
As Claire winked, I found myself imagining something going on with Raleigh. If I had driven back with him from Napa, instead of Cindy. If I had asked him up, it being nothing but a lonely Sunday, thrown together something out of the fridge. Shared a beer on the terrace as the sun melted into the bay. In my mind, I caught him checking me over again. You look nice, Boxer. He had noticed. Truth was, I had noticed things about him, too. Patient, sensitive eyes. Even finished The Shipping News. It wouldn’t be so hard.
Even as I sat there pretending I could fall in love with someone, the daydream crashed. Life was slowly leaking out of me.
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