The 9th Judgment

Ask anyone. I should never have cheated on her. It’s hard, don’t you see? Women come on to me all the time. Casey didn’t understand that.”

The door opened again, this time no knock, and Tony Peyser, Dowling’s confident, thousand-bucks-an-hour attorney, came through the door.

“Don’t say anything, Marc. What’s the charge?” the lawyer asked me.

I was filled with a heady blend of fury and elation. Dowling’s statement was on tape, and the prosecution would use it to tear him apart.

I didn’t even look at the lawyer. I said, “Stand up, Mr. Dowling. You’re under arrest for the murder of Casey Dowling. You have the right to remain silent…”

Conklin cuffed Dowling as I finished reading him his rights. Dowling was still protesting, “It was self- defense!”

“Who knows? Maybe the jury will believe you,” I said, looking into a face that had struck love into the hearts of untold thousands of women. “But you know what I think? You’re a bad actor. You really stink.”

Chapter 109

I DON’T KNOW when I’ve needed a drink more. Cindy met me downstairs at half past six, and I drove us to Susie’s in my Explorer. I was glad to have some time alone with Cindy, and I had a pretty juicy exclusive for her.

The rain was starting to come down pretty hard, the customary evening gale. As my wipers squeegeed the water off the glass, I told Cindy how the “bomb” dropped off at the Hall turned out to be four million in jewels.

“I think Kitty returned the jewelry because she didn’t want that ‘murder during the commission of a robbery’ charge hanging over her head.”

“What did her letter say exactly?” Cindy asked.

“Cindy, you can have the part about Kitty, but we’re charging Dowling with murder in the second. That’s off the record, okay?”

“Fine,” Cindy said. “I’ll get another source on Dowling in the morning. Meanwhile, this is incredible. Hello Kitty returned the goods.”

I grinned at Cindy as I quoted Hello Kitty’s letter, then I parked as close as I could to Susie’s. We both got out of the car and, squealing like little girls, ran a block through the sharp blowing rain.

Walking into Susie’s is pretty much a peak experience every time. We’ve been coming here for years, so the place is packed with memories. The aroma of Susie’s special spicy fish stew was in the air. The band was tuning up, and there was a mob of singles at the bar.

I saw Yuki sitting on a stool, and Cindy and I edged through the crowd until I could tap Yuki’s shoulder. She turned and gave both me and Cindy hugs. Then she introduced us to the bartender. She shouted over the noise.

“Lindsay, Cindy, meet Miles La Liberte. Miles, these are my friends Lindsay Boxer and Cindy Thomas.”

I shook hands with Miles, and as we said our good-byes, Yuki leaned across the bar and kissed him on the lips.

She kissed him!

“I’ve been out of the loop for too long,” I said to Yuki as we passed the kitchen on the way to the back room. “What was that I just saw?”

“Cute, isn’t he?”

Yuki laughed and took menus from Lorraine, and the three of us slid into the booth. I held open the seat next to me for Claire.

“Darned cute,” I said. “And how long has this been going on?”

“A few weeks.”

“So is this… serious?”

“Yeah,” she said, blushing and grinning at the same time.

“Wow,” Cindy said. “You kept that a secret?”

“Good for you, Yuki. A new case and a new boyfriend. A pitcher of brew, please,” I said to Lorraine. “Four glasses.”

“I have an announcement, too,” Cindy said, clasping her hands, leaning across the table, practically falling into my lap. “Rich and I are living together.”

“Whoa. That’s fantastic,” I said-and I felt it. A hundred percent. “He didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to be the one to tell you,” she said.

The beer came along with a bowl of plantain chips, and Cindy talked about closet space and how the bed was too soft for Rich, and I thought about how long it had been-if ever-since all of us were happy at the same time. I wished that Claire was here to enjoy this.

I turned, looked over my shoulder, and saw her barreling down the narrow passageway toward our booth.

The look on her face could be described only as an eclipse of the sun. A thunderstorm was coming in.

Chapter 110

CLAIRE DIDN’T EVEN say hello.

She slid into the booth, poured a glass of beer, and said, “Sorry I’m late. I was on the medical examiner database, still trying to break the logjam in this Lipstick Psycho disaster. Edmund says I should take the pictures of those dead babies down from the board in my office, but I want to keep them up until that devil is in custody.”

“Did you find anything?” I asked.

“I can’t find a pattern that matches anything in any database but ours. No other mother-child shootings. No lipstick messages. The stippling pattern is unique. What is his motivation, his trigger, his problem? I don’t have a clue. Cindy, could you pass the chips?”

“He says he’s doing it for the money,” Cindy said.

Claire nodded, then put her hand up, signaling that she still had the floor. She snacked and sipped, then picked up her thought.

“Okay. It’s unusual, isn’t it, Linds? A psycho motivated by money? But anyway let’s consider that message Gordon wrote on the windshield of his car: ‘Now I want five million. Don’t screw it up again.’ What’s happening with that?” Claire asked me.

“The FBI has the car, and it’s their case. I’m on call, but Benbow is in charge.”

Cindy said, “What would happen if we came up with something? What if the Chronicle responds to that windshield message with an open letter to the killer, like we did before?”

“Be specific. What are you thinking?” Yuki asked.

“Say Henry Tyler writes the letter. He says, ‘We’ve got the five million and want to set up a drop.’ And he challenges the killer, kind of a ‘back at ya,’ and says, ‘Don’t screw it up again.’”

“And then what?” Yuki asked Cindy. “Another trap? How would it end any differently?”

I hoped for a trap that wouldn’t involve me. I didn’t know if I could do a repeat performance of that horrific day with the cell phone hanging around my neck, never knowing if or when Gordon would take the money and pop