“Kline is a piece of garbage. He was laughing at me that night, as much as telling me that he could do whatever he wanted, and I couldn’t touch him. So right now I want to touch him; in fact, I want to strangle him. There’s no law against that, is there?”
Battersby laughs. “Go for it.”
“So to get back to the original question,” Laurie says. “Do you mind if we get involved?”
“What if I mind?” Battersby asks.
“We’ll get involved anyway. But we’ll be less forthcoming with information.”
He shrugs his acceptance. “All hands on deck. But give me a couple of days to talk to Kline again before you beat the shit out of him.”
“Deal,” I say. “You want dessert?”
Battersby nods. “Damn straight. And I think we should have regular lunch meetings to discuss the case.”
DANI is in control of our relationship.
I’m not superhappy about that, and I’m sure not used to it, but just that I’m sitting here at home, thinking about her while she is away on business, is highly unusual for me.
I don’t think this has ever happened to me before. For the most part, I’ve never been in a relationship long enough to lose control. In the past I always quickly felt claustrophobic, so I would find a reason to bail out. I’m really good at finding bail-out rationales.
But with Dani it’s been different. I was all set to end it.… I fully expected to do so … but I could never find the reason. I just couldn’t pull the trigger. That’s because she’s presented one big, so far insurmountable, challenge.
I like her.
A lot. I never thought I could like someone this much.
If a young guy came to me looking for relationship advice, though he would have to be flat-out nuts to do so, I would tell him to find someone he wasn’t too crazy about. That’s the key. That way, if you dump her, or if she dumps you, what’s the big deal?
Somehow Dani is different, and I haven’t quite figured out exactly how. And I’m not talking about the obvious facts that she’s funny and smart and beautiful. It’s something else that’s caused me to lower my defenses.
Soon I’m going to analyze it, even though it’s way too late. The enemy has scaled the wall, taken over, and planted her flag. I am a relationship POW.
“Simon, how could you let this happen to me?”
I talk to Simon a lot. We’re buddies, and even though I doubt he understands most of what I say, he’s a good listener. I think he’s probably listening for the word biscuit, but I can’t be sure.
Simon is smart; he was the best police dog in the department, and it wasn’t even close. We had a connection between us when we were on the job; we knew what each other needed, and we never failed to provide it. He was the best cop in the department, including me.
Right now it’s time to stop thinking about Dani and start thinking about Gerald Kline. Lieutenant Battersby said that Kline has an alibi for the night of Lisa Yates’s death, which doesn’t surprise me.
If it was a professional hit, then the killer was hired. If you’re going to hire someone to commit a murder, it makes perfect sense to do it at a time when you have an ironclad alibi. That’s actually the reason that alibis exist.
Battersby is right that domestic violence murders don’t usually involve hired killers, but there are no ironclad rules. If you have enough money and want someone dead, but don’t have the guts to do it yourself, you hire someone. Kline struck me as a gutless worm.
I’ve come to the conclusion that our investigation has to proceed on two tracks. One, obviously, is to try to find evidence of Kline’s guilt. That is not the best way to investigate a case. It’s generally a bad idea to decide in advance who the guilty party is, then try to make the pieces fit. The evidence should call the shots; the investigator should just follow it to a conclusion.
I admit that my visceral dislike for Kline is driving me. I think he’s guilty and I want him to be guilty; I just have to keep those feelings in check and be as impartial as I can.
The other track we have to follow is Lisa Yates’s life, and not only her relationship with Kline. Was there someone else that might have wanted her dead? Someone with money and connections? We know absolutely nothing about Lisa, but that will change in a hurry.
“Simon, you on board for this?” Simon just looks blankly at me, so I add, “There are going to be biscuits involved.”
That perks him up, so I head for the biscuit jar to demonstrate that this is not an empty promise. This is a ritual we played out every morning before going to work on the force.
As I give him one, I say, “Not sure what your role will be yet, but stay ready.”
He barks his agreement, or maybe he’s barking for another biscuit. I give him another, then a third.
“Good. Glad to have you on board.”
“YEAH, I remember that night. It was the only time I called the cops.”
I’m talking to Walter Nichols, Lisa Yates’s neighbor. He made the 911 call that resulted in my trip to the Yates house that night … the night I didn’t do anything except write a meaningless report.
He continues, “A cop showed up; I saw him go in. But he came back out after about a half hour, and I don’t know what happened.”
“I was the cop.”
“I thought you said you were private. You’re a cop?”
“That was then; this is now. Tell me about Lisa Yates.”
“I don’t know that much about her. I just saw her outside a few times, mostly when I was mowing my lawn. I haven’t lived here that long. She liked to garden, so if she
