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

“How close to the end?”

Merrill Shortley picked up the phone. “This is four-oh-two. Checking out. I’m in a rush.”

She stood up, slung a Prada bag over her shoulder, an expensive-looking raincoat over her arm. Then she looked at me and said dryly, “To the very end.”

Chapter 58

“NO WONDER the bride didn’t wear white,” Raleigh frowned and said as I told him about my interview with Merrill Shortley.

McBride had set us up for dinner at Nonni’s, an Italian place on the lake, a short walk from our hotel.

Raleigh’s interview with the groom’s parents had yielded nothing eventful. James Voskuhl had been an aspiring musician who had floated on the edge of the music scene in Seattle, finally hooking his way into representing a couple of upcoming bands. He had no known connection to San Francisco.

“The killer knew Kathy,” I said. “How else would he find her here? They had a relationship.”

“Right up to the end?” he mused.

“To the very end,” I answered. “Meaning maybe here, in Cleveland. These weren’t choirgirls. Merrill said this guy was older, married, kinky, predatory. It fits the pattern of the murders. Someone she knew in San Francisco must have seen Red Beard. Somebody knows. Merrill claims that Kathy was protecting her lover, possibly because he was a celebrity.”

“You think this Merrill Shortley has more to add?”

“Maybe. Or the family. I got the feeling they were holding something back.”

He had ordered a ’97 Chianti and when it came he tilted his glass. “Here’s to David and Melanie, Michael and Becky, James and Kathy.”

“Let’s toast them when we catch this pathetic bastard,” I said.

It was the first time we’d been alone in Cleveland, and suddenly I was nervous. We had an entire evening to fill, and no matter how we kept steering back to the case or joking how “this wasn’t a date,” there was this pull, this bass chord twanging inside me, telling me that this was no time to start anything with anyone, not even handsome and charming Chris Raleigh.

Then why had I changed into a baby blue sweater and nice slacks instead of staying with the chambray shirt and khakis I’d worn all day?

We ordered. I had osso bucco, spinach, a salad; Raleigh, a veal paillard.

“Maybe it was someone on her job?” Raleigh said. “Or connected with her job?”

“I told Jacobi to check out her firm in Seattle. Her father said she still came down to San Francisco on business. I want to see if that’s the case.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then either she was hiding s

omething or they are.”

He took a sip of wine. “Why would she go through with a wedding if she was still involved with this guy?”

I shrugged. “They all said Kathy was finally settling down. I’d like to see what she was like back then, if this is what they meant by settling down.”

I was thinking that I wanted another crack at the sister, Hillary. I remembered something she had said. Old habits are hard to crack. I had thought she was talking about drugs, parties. Did she mean Red Beard?

“McBride tells me tomorrow morning we should be able to review some film at the museum.”

“The guy was there, Raleigh,” I said with certainty. “He was there that night. Kathy knew her killer. We just have to find out who he is.”

Raleigh poured a little more wine into my glass. “We’re partners now, aren’t we, Lindsay?”

“Sure,” I said, a little surprised by the question. “Can’t you tell I trust you?”

“I mean, we’ve been through three double murders, we’re committed to seeing it through, I backed you up with Mercer. I even helped clean up after dinner at your place.”