“He called me last night. He’s meeting us here at nine.”
Jim pulled a chair out for me. “So you heard about Svetlana Avery?”
I nodded, sitting. “What do you think happened?”
Jim sat next to me and rested his hand on my thigh. “All I could gather is that she was shot.”
“She must have known something. When I told her about Michelle’s death, she nearly passed out. She told me she had a migraine coming on. It seemed odd to me at the time, but maybe she was afraid.”
Jim looked surprised. “When did you even meet with her?”
“The other day. She called the house.”
“Why did she call us?”
“Well, actually, I called her, but never mind that.”
Jim looked unconvinced. “You think she knew who killed Brad and Michelle?”
“Why else would she end up dead?”
Jim reached for my hand. “You can’t investigate anymore, Kate. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”
“I have to. You’re in jail.”
“Leave it to the pros, honey. This Crane guy will figure it out. He sounded pretty confident last night when I spoke with him.”
As if on cue, the door to the meeting room opened and Charles Crane appeared, escorted by the same deputy. The deputy waited for Mr. Crane to settle his briefcase onto the table and nod before closing the door.
Mr. Crane had a sweater wrapped around his shoulders and an unlit pipe between his teeth. He looked like his photo. He was small in stature with silver highlights in his dark hair.
He introduced himself as he took a seat across from us. “Not to sound insensitive, Mr. Connolly, but do we need to have our conversation in private?” Crane glanced in my direction.
“Anything you want to discuss with me, you can do so in front of my wife.”
Mr. Crane nodded, clearing his throat. “As you’re aware, you’ve been charged with assault with a deadly weapon, for fighting with your brother. The victim, George Connolly, is unavailable. Or, in other words, has not stepped forward to press charges. Therefore, if the case is to be presented to the DA, it will most likely be deemed ‘insufficient grounds for arrest’ and the case will be dropped.”
I rocked Laurie back and forth in my arms, trying to dissipate my nervousness. “So, they’re going to let Jim go?”
“Under other circumstances he would have already been released, but homicide left a request for inquiry under the name ‘Connolly’,” Crane said.
Jim exhaled. “When the cops booked me, they saw my last name and had to hold me so that McNearny could talk to me, right?”
Crane blinked his affirmation.
“You talked to McNearny?” I asked. “What did he want to know?”
Jim shrugged. “About George. When I’d seen him last, where he was staying and what he was doing, who he was friends with. All that kind of stuff.”
Crane tapped his unlit pipe. “Once the police have you in custody, they like to hold you as long as legally possible. Make you nervous, hope anything you’ve conveniently
Jim rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. “I really don’t know anything-”
“I do. Well, a little.” I filled them in on my conversation with George the previous day, including the cell phone number he’d given me.
“This may help,” Crane said. “If we can bring George in, it will take the pressure off your husband. The police don’t consider Jim a serious suspect, they’re just trying to squeeze information out of him.”
“That’s a relief,” I said.
“But there’s bad news, too.” Crane continued. “I’m told they want to have you participate in a lineup this afternoon, Mr. Connolly. They say they have an eyewitness who saw a man leaving Svetlana’s apartment yesterday afternoon.”
“That’s not a problem. I can do the lineup. I never even met the woman and I was nowhere near her apartment. Well, actually, I can’t say that. What I
“Unfortunately, we don’t have a choice in the lineup. You have to do it. I wish you didn’t. You don’t know how many times people mistake someone’s identity.”
I sighed and pressed my head into Jim’s shoulder. He squeezed my hand. “Everything is going to be fine, honey.”
We looked at Crane for reassurance. He grimaced. “Is there much of a resemblance between you and your brother?”
I left the station feeling agitated and distressed. I needed to stay busy in order to keep myself from turning into a nervous wreck about Jim’s situation.
First thing, I dialed Jim’s office and told them he was still too sick to go into work. Next, I decided I should see the woman, Kiku, who had the appointment with Galigani. Her apartment was near San Francisco State University. Parking would be a unique challenge.
As I circled around her building, I reflected on the lineup.
Jim and George did look alike; they had the same coloring and handsome features. But Jim was almost a full head taller than George. I prayed that would account for something. Then again we didn’t know anything about the description of the man leaving Svetlana’s place. It could have been anybody. Maybe it wasn’t George, after all.
I found parking close by and silently thanked the parking gods or goddesses, then threw in a prayer for Jim for good measure.
I rang the bell. A heavily pregnant woman wrapped in a red kimono answered the door. She was all of about four feet tall. Okay, maybe five feet, but barely that. The baby extended from her abdomen as though she had slipped a basketball under her kimono. Her pregnant belly was much more pronounced than mine had ever been, even when I was nine months along.
Maybe she’d have a boy. Could the old wives’ tale be true, about boys extending outward and girls curling around?
“Hi, sorry to disturb you. Are you Kiku?”
She nodded, resting her hands on her belly.
“I’m Kate Connolly. Did you have an appointment with Investigator Galigani today?”
“Yes,” Kiku said with a heavy Japanese accent.
“Unfortunately, he’s in the hospital. Open heart surgery.”
Kiku’s face creased with the appropriate amount of concern one usually displays when hearing about someone else’s misfortune.
Before I could decide, Kiku opened the door and motioned Laurie and me inside.
Her apartment was small. We entered straight into the living room. I could see into the tiny kitchen. There was a door to the left, which I assumed led to the bedroom. The place was sparsely decorated in soft feminine tones, and I could tell by the couch and the paintings that she had expensive taste.
She motioned me toward the sofa. I sat down, placing Laurie’s bucket next to me.
Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to bring Laurie along. But this woman was pregnant. She couldn’t be a murderer, right?
Kiku admired Laurie. “Beautiful baby girl. Big blue eyes!”
“Yours will be beautiful, too. When are you due?”
“Soon. Soon.”
We smiled at each other as Kiku reached out and stroked Laurie’s little foot. “Tell me, was labor difficult?”
It seemed odd that for nine months all I had thought about was Laurie’s arrival and the upcoming labor.
