49
Holly hung up the phone, and Josh went back to running the Cuisinart. When he was done, he poured the sauce into a pan and began thickening it, stirring very slowly.
Holly just stood there and thought. “Josh,” she said, “I think we’re back to square one.”
“And exactly where is square one?” he asked, taking the English muffins from the toaster oven, draping them with Canadian bacon and spooning a softly poached egg onto each.
“Square one is where we were with Bruno: we thought he did it, but we had no corroborating evidence.”
“So,” Josh said, pouring Hollandaise sauce over the muffins, “now we just substitute Jimmy’s name for Bruno’s?”
“That’s about it.”
“But you still haven’t proved that Bruno did not do the murders. Even if somebody came into the house and shot him while he was zonked out on Scotch and Ambien, then wrote a suicide note for him, Bruno could still be the killer.”
“When you put it that way, yes,” Holly said.
“Can you think of another way to put it?”
“No,” Holly said, “I can’t.”
Josh set the two plates on the table with a pitcher of orange juice, then opened half a bottle of champagne and held the chair for her.
“Mmmm, mimosas,” she said, as he poured champagne into her half-glass of juice.
“Or Buck’s fizzes,” Josh said, sitting down, “if you live in England.”
“That’s a nice name,” Holly said, sipping her Buck’s fizz.
“There’s another point you have to consider,” Josh said, cutting into his eggs Benedict.
“What’s that?”
“Even if Bruno is innocent and Jimmy Weathers murdered him and wrote his suicide note and planted the evidence, it seems unlikely that Jimmy is going to get caught.”
“Maybe the partial print on the v-gun will turn out to be Jimmy’s?”
“You think the DA would be willing to hang his whole case on that and a bunch of circumstantial evidence? By the way, what is circumstantial evidence, anyway?”
“Circumstances that strongly suggest guilt,” Holly said, “or words to that effect.”
“So, if it seems like Jimmy did it, he’s guilty?”
“It’s not as simple as that,” Holly said. “First, he would have to have no alibi for any of the killings.”
“Which all took place late at night?”
“Yes.”
“So, his alibi is that he was home with Mom, asleep.”
“I guess that would be it.”
“If Mom corroborates that, then what circumstances would apply?”
“Jimmy has a boat, so he could have dumped one of the corpses in the sea; Jimmy has an unmarked police car at his disposal and a policeman’s uniform and badge, so he’d have no trouble posing as a cop; Jimmy is single and horny, and that’s a kind of motive; Jimmy had opportunity to steal the v-gun from the hospital, but so far we have no way to put him in the room with it; Jimmy had the opportunity to plant the panties and v-gun in Bruno’s bedroom, even if he didn’t kill him.”
“So Jimmy has motive, means and opportunity,” Josh said. “Isn’t that all you need?”
“In theory, but in practice we need corroborating evidence, and we don’t have any: no witnesses, no trace evidence at the crime scenes.”
“I suppose it would help if you could find a couple of women in Jimmy’s past whom he raped, or nearly raped, on a date?”
“Sure, but I’m beginning to wonder if Jimmy has ever had a date. And even if he has, what are we going to do, run an ad in the local paper? ‘Have you ever been raped or nearly raped by this man?’ ”
“Here’s a more pleasant thought,” Josh said. “None of this is your responsibility; you’re not a cop anymore. You’re returning to your day job shortly.”
“Yeah, that’s just great,” Holly said disconsolately. “It’s Hurd’s and Lauren’s baby.”
Teddy and Lauren were having a good breakfast, too.
“Looks like you’ve wrapped up your big case,” Teddy said, holding up the paper.
“How ’bout that!” Lauren said, giving him a big bacon-flavored kiss.
“How ’bout you and I pack up and head for Santa Fe?” Teddy said. “And if you don’t like it there, we’ll try La Jolla; and if you don’t like it there, we’ll find someplace you do like.”
“That’s a breathtaking idea,” Lauren said.
“Have you been thinking about it?”
“Of course, I have.”
“And what is your decision?”
Lauren got up and squeezed herself into his lap, and she put her arms around his neck. “My decision is YES!!!”
Then her cell phone rang.
Lauren picked it up, and Teddy could hear only her side of the conversation.
“Hello? Hi, Hurd. Okay, I’m listening.” Long pause. “Oh, shit. Yes, I see, square one. You want me to come in today? All right, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, and we’ll start over.” She hung up.
“I didn’t like the sound of that,” Teddy said. “What does it all mean?”
Lauren enlightened him at some length.
“So Hurd thinks Jimmy Weathers killed Bruno and all the women?”
“He can’t prove Jimmy did it,” Lauren said, “and he can’t prove he didn’t, either.”
“So you’re back at square one?”
“That’s about the size of it. And, Jack, I can’t walk out on Hurd with the whole thing just hanging like this.”
“I can see that,” Teddy said. “Well, I’ll just have to try to be patient.”
“I would be very grateful if you could,” Lauren said.
Teddy thought about it. “This is really interesting,” he said. “You’ve had only two suspects, both cops—one is dead and the other is suspected of killing him, plus they’re both suspects in the killing of all those women. You’ve got enough evidence to call Bruno the killer and wrap the whole thing up, but you can’t, because now you think Jimmy is the killer. I don’t think I’ve ever read a thriller with such a convoluted plot.”
“Any suggestions?”
“Yes,” Teddy said. “It’s wrapped up in the papers, so leave it that way and wait for another murder.”
“You think Jimmy would kill again, now that he’s off scot-free?”
“If he’s already killed half a dozen times, it’s because he really, really likes doing it. I predict he’ll kill again, but be even more careful.”