“Jessie, are you there?” Kat asked quietly.
She took a second to gather herself. There was no way she could dealwith the magnitude of what she’d been told in this moment. She was on a boat inchoppy Pacific Ocean waters, staring at six people, one of whom might be amurderer. Her little sister was leading a double life. And her best friend hadlied about it for months. When she spoke, she was impressed at how detached andunemotional she sounded.
“I appreciate you telling me this,” she said. “It was the right thingto do and I know it must have been hard for you. But at this moment, it’s hardfor me to see how I can ever trust you again. I don’t have words to express howbetrayed I feel. Unfortunately, that’s not something I have time to focus onnow. I’m trying to solve a murder. And apparently when I get back, I need to gosee if my sister is out drag racing or doing amateur undercover work as ahooker to bust a pimp.”
“I can check on her again for you,” Kat pleaded more than offered. “I’llstop by your place.”
“No,” Jessie said stiffly. “I think you’ve done enough.”
She hung up and looked out the misty window to see if the shore was insight yet. Suddenly her priorities had shifted. Getting to the bottom of Gabby’smurder could wait an hour. She needed to get home now.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Jessie ran down the driveway to the front door.
Even on a Sunday afternoon it had taken nearly forty-five minutes toget from Port of Long Beach to her Mid-Wilshire house. After telling Detective Petersshe’d meet up with him later, she’d promised the rideshare driver a hundredpercent tip if he was casual about the traffic laws while getting her home. Shetexted Hannah twice and called once on the way, but got no response.
Trying to stay composed, she reminded herself that just because she’donly learned about this behavior, it didn’t mean that her sister was engaged insomething dangerous at this moment. She might just be somewhere loud. Her phonecould be on silent. There was no need to panic. She suppressed the urge to callRyan. He was working on a case. She didn’t want freak him out if this wasn’t anactual emergency.
When she arrived, she went through the elaborate security procedure atthe front door of the house, for once resenting rather than appreciating it.
“Hannah!” she called out once she got inside. There was no response. “Hannah!”
No one was here. She sat down at the breakfast table and instructedherself to calm the hell down. Hannah was fine. It was Sunday afternoon and shewas enjoying being young and free in an exciting city. That was all.
As if in response to her slightly more restrained state of mind, herphone buzzed. It was a text from Hannah. It read: Hey. Sorry for delay.Phone was off. Saw a movie at the mall with friends. Going to window shop for abit. All cool on Catalina?
Jessie allowed a few seconds for the wave of relief to pass through hersystem. She responded with a casualness she didn’t feel: Back now. Stillworking the case. See you tonight.
But the relief only lasted briefly. There was no guarantee that Hannahwas actually where she claimed to be and not out doing something foolish ordangerous. Jessie could feel her mind spinning out of control and forcedherself to exhale deeply.
There was no point in rushing to the mall to accost her, she told herherself, nor in bringing up what she’d just learned from Kat. Nothingconstructive could be done until they were seated in the same room, lookingeach other in the eyes. Until then, her best move was to return her focus tothe case at hand. In a weird way, this murder was a welcome distraction.
She looked at the time. It was approaching 2 p.m. Peters was checkingin at a hotel near the Central Police Station. After that, he was going to walkthere to review whatever background information he could get on all the membersof the swingers’ group. Jessie was supposed to meet him after freshening up.
She scarfed down a microwavable breakfast burrito before getting intothe shower. As she let the warm water massage her tight shoulder muscles, shereviewed the case in her head. Of Gabby’s friends, none had an airtight alibi.But a few were better than others.
Alejandro the golf caddy could account for some of Melissa Ferro’stime. Grace the manicurist had vouched for a stretch of the evening for Gabby’shusband, Steve. Maura the bartender had verified that Rich Ferro had accompaniedCounty Supervisor Philip Blake to his room. That still left each of them withunaccounted for time. But nowhere near as much as Theo Aldridge or the Landers.
The Landers had said they were in bed together during the time ofdeath. But of course, being each other’s alibi witness wasn’t ideal. And TheoAldridge had even less of a leg to stand on.
He had claimed that no hotel staff would assert that he’d been withthem that night and when Jessie and Peters asked around, that turned out to betrue. But while that might help him keep his marriage alive, it didn’t do muchto prove his innocence. For that, he would have been better off having a housekeeperor masseuse who could personally verify his whereabouts.
After showering and getting dressed, Jessie looked over Aldridge’shandwritten timeline and noticed something she hadn’t picked up on before. Allthe names of people he asserted he’d hung out with from around 10 p.m. to11:20, when Melissa ran out of Gabby’s suite screaming, were noted in one longlist. But there weren’t any specifics about when he was with each of them. Thatlist of names included Marin and Barry Lander.
But according to the Landers, they had gone up to their suite around tenfor some private time. It was certainly possible that Aldridge had just beensloppy with the times he wrote down. He was quite drunk after all. Butreviewing her
