Day 12 – Tuesday morning
Coffee shop
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Ginny said. “I’m afraid I need your help. It’s about your sister, Lisa.”
Mary Jo Braden nodded, the look on her face suggesting this was not the first time she’d heard something of the sort.
Ginny took a breath and plunged in. “Lisa is under suspicion of murdering someone at work, and I’d like—very much—to be able to change that.”
“I know. She told me.”
“The police have been going over all the available evidence. So far, they can’t eliminate her.”
Mary Jo’s face settled into a grave concern. “Does what I say to you count as evidence?”
“It might. Do you know something that can help us?”
Mary Jo’s face clouded. “Maybe. You may have noticed, Lisa spends a lot of time on how she looks.”
Ginny nodded.
“That includes her nails and she’s always pretty vocal when she breaks one. They cost a lot at the salon where she goes.” Mary Jo was frowning heavily. “She broke one that night, at work.”
Ginny took a careful breath. “Are you sure it was that shift?”
Mary Jo nodded. “She came home Friday morning, after the police let her go, swearing at the nail, saying she’d caught it on something during the Code. She said she had to go have it replaced, and it was going to cost her a fortune, and she was really mad. She wouldn’t have said that if she was guilty, would she? She’d hide it from me, if she tore it while—you know. Right?”
Ginny nodded. “I would think so, yes.” She was thinking it wasn’t proof, but any murderer with half a brain would be worried about leaving evidence at the scene. If Lisa had broken a nail during the struggle with Phyllis, she might have picked it up and put it in her pocket, and, if she was worried Mary Jo might notice, she might have made up a story to cover the missing nail. So not finding the broken nail wouldn’t tell them a thing. It would only be useful if the police had found it.
“Okay. I’ll pass that on. Now can you tell me whether Lisa was mad at anyone in particular?”
“I don’t think so. She doesn’t confide in me. Not much anyway. And she wouldn’t tell me if she’d killed someone. Would she?” Mary Jo’s face paled as she said it, but she didn’t amend her comment.
Ginny shook her head. “I wouldn’t think so, but we’ve heard a rumor Lisa was jealous of the dead woman. Can you shed any light on that?”
Mary Jo’s eyebrows rose. “Why would she be jealous?”
“Because the man she wanted chose the dead woman instead of her.”
“Oh! You mean John Kyle.”
Ginny nodded.
“She was furious about that, for about six months, then she moved on.”
“One of the witnesses reports Lisa made threats.”
“What kind of threats?”
Ginny was deliberately vague. “Ways to get John back.”
Mary Jo shook her head. “She didn’t need to do that. She has someone else.”
“A steady?”
“Yeah. Two years now.”
Ginny blinked. “Do you know who it is?”
“Of course. Isaac Zimmerman.”
“The guy from Human Resources?”
Mary Jo nodded. “I introduced them. He and I met at a photography class. He’s very good, sells his work to the news media. Lisa picked me up one night from school and he was there.” She screwed up her face. “I got the idea it was serious. He’s been taking her places, nice places. She usually comes in smiling, when she comes in at all.”
“You two share a house?”
“An apartment, yeah.”
“Mary Jo, will you do something for me? Keep your eyes and ears open. I want something that will definitively prove Lisa isn’t our killer.”
Mary Jo nodded. “I want that, too. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”
* * *
Tuesday midmorning
Hillcrest Regional Human Resources Department
Ginny knocked on the open door and was invited in. “Mr. Zimmerman?” He rose to greet her.
“That’s me. How can I make your day better?” He gestured toward the guest chair, then sank into his own, leaning on his desk, smiling at her.
Tall, dark, and handsome. The curly black hair gleamed, almost aggressively healthy. The light blue eyes were set an attractive distance from the straight nose and balanced above a wide, generous mouth. He was clean-shaven and neatly dressed and Ginny could see the appeal. She smiled back.
“I’m hoping you can help me clear up a few things. I’m Ginny Forbes.” She saw his eyes kindle in recognition, but he did not interrupt. “I know you’ve been taking publicity photographs for the hospital, and I’m told you’re really good.”
His smile grew wider. “Thank you to whoever that was.”
“Mary Jo Braden.”
Both his eyes and his smile softened. “She’s a nice kid.”
“Yes, she is. She said you’re dating her sister, Lisa.”
He nodded, his smile suddenly wary.
“Lisa is under suspicion in the death of Phyllis Kyle.”
He nodded again, this time with nothing but alert interest in his face.
“I’m trying to prove Lisa could not have done it, and I was wondering if you had any photographs that could help me.”
He shook his head. “I turned over all my images from that night to the police. If they haven’t found anything, it’s probably not there.”
Ginny nodded. “But you might see something they missed. You have the eye.”
His lips twitched at the compliment. “I looked at them carefully, for the same reason, but didn’t spot anything. Sorry.”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. “Is there anything you can give me, anything at all that would clear her name?”
He studied her for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether to trust her, then spoke. “There is a very good reason why she could not have committed that murder.”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed as she studied him. “But you can’t tell me what it is.”
“No, it would be a breach of confidence.” He gestured around his office. “My position prohibits it.”
“I see.” Ginny rose and held out her hand. “Thank you for your time. If you find you can get past that barrier, whatever it is, and exonerate Lisa, please call me or Detective Tran. We would be very happy to be able to take her off the list.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
She took her leave and made her way to the parking garage. He knew something. Too bad she couldn’t pry it out of him, but there was someone else who probably knew what it was. Lisa. If she could be persuaded to tell.
* * *
Tuesday noon
Braden residence
Isaac Zimmerman crossed the atrium, rode the elevator up to the third floor, strode down the hall, and rapped on her door. He had called ahead, to make sure she was home and receiving visitors, then stopped for Asian takeout on the way over. Lisa opened the door to let him in.
“Hi, lover! Come for a little midday snuggle?”
He set the food down, took her in his arms and gave her a kiss. “That’s what I’ve come to talk about.”
“I was teasing.”
“I know.”
He helped her set the table, then watched as she tucked away a healthy portion of the noodles and chicken. Her appetite was still good. That was something. She added a bottle of wine to the meal.
“Are you sure you should drink that?”
She shrugged. “If it kills me, at least I had a good last meal.”
“Lisa, it’s time to tell.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want anyone to know.”
“I understand, but you have to. They need to know why you couldn’t have killed Phyllis Kyle.”
Lisa frowned. “I wish I had.”
“You don’t mean that.”
She met his eye, then sighed. “No, I don’t.” She poured herself another glass of wine then settled down on the sofa. He dropped down beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.
“It’s weird,” she said. “Sometimes I want to rip someone’s throat out with my bare hands. Like when I was watching her kids at the zoo. I wanted to be her so badly it hurt, actually hurt. Other times, it’s like nothing matters.”
He pulled her into his arms. “We’re going to get through this.”
She closed her eyes, letting him set the glass down on the table. “The odds are against us.”
“If we ignore it, you’ll die.”
“We all die, and this way would be quick.”
He gave her a hug. “Call me selfish, but I want more time with you.”
She looked up at him. “You mean that?”
“I do.”
Her brow furrowed. “The surgery may kill me.”
“I’m betting it won’t.”
“It could leave me with brain damage.”
“We’ve got the best neurosurgeon in the country right here in Dallas. Let’s call him and set this up.”
She shook her head. “Not until after Christmas. The literature says to wait until everyone is over the holidays before scheduling anything important.”
“If you have another attack, we’ll have to do the surgery on an emergency basis.”
“I know, but I’m willing to take the chance. It’s just a little while longer.”
He gave her a hug. “Then at least take care of yourself. No more emotional upsets.”
She sighed deeply. “You know I can’t control that, right?”
“Yes, but the doctor said if you stayed quiet and kept your blood pressure down, there might not be any more episodes. I can get him to prescribe Valium, if you need it.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“You should also think about taking some time off from work.”
“I’m going to have to do that after the surgery. Let me have a few more days of pretending to be normal.”
“I’ve been thinking about the future,” he said. “I’d like to go away, start fresh somewhere else.”
She looked at him. “Leave your hobby behind?”
“Not the photography.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
He took a deep breath. “Yes. I think it’s time to give that up. I’ve got a nice little nest egg and, if I can get a new job in a system where no one knows me, I think I can settle down to a normal life and still make ends meet.”
“Kids and a mortgage and medical bills.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about any of it. We’ll be fine. Your job is to get through this surgery and the rehab, so you can take care of our children.”
She smiled. “That sounds nice.”
He kissed her head. “Let’s tell the police the truth, so they can cross you off their suspect list and stop asking awkward questions.”
“I don’t want—”
“Just the police. No one else, and they don’t need to share that information.”
She was silent for a long time. “You’re afraid they’ll find out, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “The deeper they dig on you, the more likely they are to stumble over me. If we’re open with them about you, they’ll be satisfied.”
She looked at him. “You were there that night, too.”
He nodded. “But I was thrown out before she went missing, so I’m not a suspect. You are, and we need to change that.”
“Who told you I was a suspect?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Ginny Forbes came to the office today, asking questions.”
“That interfering bitch!” Lisa sat up, her eyes furious. “She should keep her nose out of other people’s business or she may find herself getting hurt—again!”
“Lisa, sweetheart, calm down. Please? Here, relax and let me hold you.” He pulled her back into his embrace. “Ignore her. Don’t let her upset you.”
“She pisses me off. She’s such a goody-two-shoes. Thinks she’s better than everyone else.”
“She’s not worth having a stoke over. Ginny Forbes will get what she deserves. Never doubt it.”
He held her gently until she relaxed. It was the aneurysm talking, the blood leaking into the space around the amygdala. (He had learned that word from the doctor, then spent a week looking it up.) Keep her calm, he had said. Keep her blood pressure down. And no sex.
Isaac lifted her hair and brought it to his lips. When they made love again, he promised himself, it would be without fear, and with the rabbi’s blessing, and for the purpose of having children. God allowed for redemption in his chosen people. If he turned over a new leaf and sinned no more, that would be enough.
He would start looking for a new home today, a new place to start a new life. One without temptation, perhaps. Yes, that might be a good thing, finding a job that didn’t have the kind of temptation he’d fallen victim to. Because he was a victim. God couldn’t really expect human beings to be that strong. After all, original sin was His idea. What he needed was to move quietly away from this city—and this police investigation—and try again somewhere else.
* * *