1st to Die - James Patterson [67]
They lived in Burlingame—affluent, exclusive—took rock-climbing treks in the desert at Moab. No kids. “It just doesn’t fit right now,” she said.
Jill seemed to live the epitome of the fast, successful life. At the same time, there seemed to be something missing. Maybe she was tired from the grind, the pace of her accomplishments.
When our drinks arrived, Claire and I toasted Cindy’s ingenuity in coming up with Jenks’s name in such short time. And beating two police departments to the punch.
Claire raised a glass to her. “You’re pretty good for a rookie, of course. But you’re still not the king.” She smiled at me.
“So I’m thinking,” Jill said, looking around the table. “I know I can hold my own at dinner parties and all… but that’s not why you asked me in, is it? Seems like we have all the angles covered here: the press, the force, medical examiner. Just what kind of a group is this?”
I answered, since it was I who had invited her in. “Women. Climbing the ladder in their careers. Law enforcement.”
“Yeah, with soft, pushover types for bosses,” put in Cindy.
“Well, I qualify there,” said Jill. “And it doesn’t hurt that each of you seems to have some connection with the bride and groom case.”
I held my breath. Jill could blow this whole thing if she wanted to, but she was here. “We have been sort of working together,” I admitted. “Outside the investigation.”
Over margaritas, I explained how we had originally gotten together. How we had come upon this case, trying to solve it, sharing what we knew, freelance. How it had become a sort of bond. How things had just gotten a bit deeper.
Jill arched her eyebrows. “I assume you’re sharing all this with the investigation?”
“Of course,” I insisted. “Well, sort of.” I told her how we were giving Cindy only what the department was about to release to the press at large. How there was a thrill in cutting through the departments, advancing the case.
“I know it’s a different game when everything starts to get legal,” I said. “If any of this makes you uncomfortable…”
We were all sort of hanging there, awaiting her response. Loretta came, and we ordered another round. We were still hanging—waiting on Jill.
“How about I let you know when things start to get uncomfortable,” Jill said. She widened her blue eyes. “In the meantime, you’re gonna need a lot stronger corroboration if we want to take this thing to court.”
The three of us breathed a sigh of relief. We tilted our near-empty glasses toward our new member.
“So, this outfit have a name?” Jill inquired.
We looked around, shrugged, shook our heads. “We’re sort of a murder club,” I said.
“Lindsay’s deputized us.” Claire grinned.
“The Margarita Posse,” Jill threw out. “That has possibilities.”
“Bad-ass Bitches.” Claire giggled.
“One day, we’re all gonna be running things,” Cindy said. “Homicide Chicks,” she came back with a satisfied grin. “That’s who we are. That’s what we do.”
“Just shut me up if I start to roar,” said Jill.
We looked around the table. We were bright, attractive, take-no-shit women. We were going to run things—some day.
The waitress brought our drinks. We raised four glasses toward one another. “To us.”
Chapter 74
I WAS DRIVING HOME, really pleased at having brought Jill into the group, but it didn’t take long for the thought to worm its way in that I was still withholding from my friends.
My beeper sounded.
“What’re you doin’?” Raleigh asked when I buzzed him back.
“I was headed home. Beat.”
“You up for talking just a little? I’m at Mahoney’s.” Mahoney’s was a dark, crowded bar near the Hall that was usually thick with off-duty cops.
“Already ate,” I told him.
“Meet me anyway,” Raleigh said. “It’s about the case.”
I was only a few minutes away. Mahoney’s was on Brannan. To get to Potrero, I had to go right by it.
I found myself a little nervous again. I was scared we were no longer playing things by the book. The book was, partners didn’t get involved. Nor people with their lives ebbing away. I knew that if I let things go, anything