The 17th Suspect Page 20

  “My privacy is gone. My dignity—destroyed. My poor mother, a proud woman, is now an object of pity.”

  Briana clambered back into the basket chair. She scowled, curled up, and hugged her knees, her face radiating hurt and anger. She turned her head and pinned Yuki with a hard glare.

  “Do you understand? Marc took everything from me. I want to write hate mail to him in jail.”

  Yuki said, “Briana, I do understand. I feel terrible. Please, hear me out. I came to tell you that I’m sorry for my part in what you’ve had to go through.”

  “Oh. You’re sorry. Thanks.”

  “I believed Marc,” said Yuki. “The police believed Marc. His story was convincing, and if he’d been raped, as our office believed, he would have needed justice. I thought other male victims of rape would also be vindicated once this crime was exposed.”

  “You mean I had to be exposed.”

  “Not exactly. I’m a prosecutor. My intention was to prosecute a rapist. Briana, I only started to suspect Marc when he testified. Even then I thought he was making up things to make himself look better, not that the whole story was a complete fabrication.”

  Briana said, “Am I getting this right? Did Marc and Paul collude in this disgusting scam?”

  “Yes,” Yuki said. “Marc admitted it was his idea and Paul helped him. Paul apologized to you in his suicide note.”

  Briana scoffed, shook her head. “Sick. Both of them. I really don’t have words.”

  She put her feet on the floor, grabbed the Stoli from the table, put the mouth of the bottle up to her lips, then stopped. She offered the bottle to Yuki.

  “Can’t,” Yuki said, “I’m driving.”

  “Okay,” Briana said. She took a few slugs of vodka and sighed loudly.

  When she turned back to Yuki, her expression had softened.

  She said, “You don’t have to justify yourself, Yuki. You were doing your job. I respect that. I never felt that you were attacking me personally. I didn’t think you were mean. If you want my forgiveness, you’ve got it.”

  “I do,” said Yuki. “Thank you very much.”

  “If Paul hadn’t pulled the plug, do you think you would have won?”

  Yuki shrugged. “You never know with juries.”

  Briana said, “That horrible video. What a piece of work.” She held out the bottle to Yuki. “You’re sure?”

  Yuki took the bottle, tipped it up, swallowed twice, and handed the bottle back. “That’s my limit,” she said.

  Briana smiled. “So, what happens next?”

  “You’ll be hearing from James any minute now. He’ll have a plan.”

  “That’s good. Jesus. I still can’t believe this. Talk about having your entire life turned inside out and then outside in. I’ve got to call my mom.”

  The two women stood up and walked to the front door. Briana said, “Thanks for coming. Really.”

  “Thank you. Briana.”

  Spontaneously they embraced and held each other for a good long minute in the doorway.

  Then Yuki left the apartment and walked out to her car. When she was sitting behind the wheel, she called Parisi.

  “How’d it go?” he asked.

  “I told Briana that I was sorry. She forgave me. We both know that she’ll never really get over this. It’s sad.”

  Yuki knew that Len hadn’t believed in this case, but he had believed in her. And she had absolutely misjudged Marc Christopher. She was never going to get over that.

  Len said, “You know what the great pitcher Satchel Paige once said?”

  “Tell me. I’m ready,” she said.

  “‘You win a few, you lose a few. Some are rained out. But you got to dress for all of them.’ That’s what you do and have always done. You dress for all of them. This is what rain feels like.”

  “Thank you, Len. I appreciate that.”

  “See you in the morning, Yuki.”

  CHAPTER 96

  THEIR APARTMENT WAS empty when Yuki came through the door.

  No surprise. It was still early. She thought of calling Brady but didn’t want him to blow her off. I’m tied up here. Can I call you right back?

  She kicked off her heels and dropped into her favorite chair. She called Arthur, Cindy, Lindsay, and Claire, then she turned off the ringer on her phone.

  She wasn’t hungry or tired, so she took a bath, refilling the tub with hot water and bubble bath until she was finally just done.

  She dried off with the plushest towel she owned, pulled on a white cotton nightgown with buttons at the neckline and a sprinkling of lace at the hem, and got into bed. It was almost seven o’clock.

  She woke up to a weight at the side of the bed. Brady. He put his hand on her shoulder and said, “Darlin’, are you sick?”

  “I’m wrung out. Unbelievable day. What time is it?” she asked.

  “Eleven fifteen, something like that.”

  “Oh, man,” Yuki said, “I only meant to take a nap.”

  “You need anything? Hot dogs? Ice cream?”

  She smiled at him in the dark. “No. I’m good,” she said.

  She heard Brady unbuckling his belt, throwing clothes over a chair, saying he was “gonna hose off the day.” When he came back, naked and damp, he said, “Scooch over a few,” and got under the covers. He took Yuki into his arms.

  “You smell good,” he said.

  “I soaked for an hour in lemongrass and citrus. I have to do that more often.”

  Brady said, “I heard a rumor that your case collapsed. Lindsay told me. Don’t be mad at her.”

  “It’s okay. I was going to call you but figured I’d catch you in the middle of something.”

  “I deserve that. But you know how it is.”

  “Not really, Brady.”

  She pushed away from him, creating a foot of distance between them. “I don’t know. So why don’t you fuckin’ tell me?”

  “I will. You go first,” he said. “Your case. What happened? Are you going to be all right with it?”

  “Nope, no way, no chance. I’ve reached the end of my patience, Brady. Tell me what’s going on with you or hit the couch until further notice.”

  He rolled onto his back, thumped the pillows into his desired support level, and said, “I’m sorry, Yuki. I couldn’t tell you anything. I was under a mayor-mandated Chinese wall. Politics played a part in this. And the immediate future of my job and the direction of the SFPD are under scrutiny, and have been for the last three months.”

  He turned to face her. “You understand where I’m going?”

  “Not at all,” she said. “I lost my decoder ring.”

  “Ice cream,” he said. “If I’m going to break my solemn oath to the brass, I’m doing it while eating butter pecan.”

  CHAPTER 97

  BRADY ROLLED OUT of bed, and Yuki’s mood dramatically shifted, from fear of a broken marriage to alarm for her husband.

  What could have affected his job as well as the entire police department?

  Was Brady in trouble? Had he gotten embroiled in some kind of scandal? Was he being tried by the deep state of Internal Affairs? Beyond that, she just couldn’t imagine.

  Brady returned to their bedroom with a bowl of ice cream, handed her one of the two spoons, and got under the covers.

  Yuki gripped his forearm with her free hand. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Okay,” he sighed. “Here it is. The whole ugly mess. Remember last year when a half dozen cops in Robbery disgraced the department?”

  “Sure,” Yuki said. “A gang of them were holding up check-cashing places and Western Union outlets.”

  “That’s right. Citizens were killed, bunch of them. And while these dirtbags were robbing cash stores, they also robbed a major drug kingpin’s distribution depot.”

  “Kingfisher. I remember all of it, but how does this figure into your job?”

  “It figures into Jacobi’s job.”

  “Jacobi?”

  �
�That Robbery crew was a scandal. God punished most of them, but that’s really not enough. Someone in the hierarchy of the SFPD has to take the fall for a division full of corrupt cops. Head of the crew is locked up for life. Head of Robbery was let go, but that’s not really enough.”

  “So you’re saying that this is going to fall on the chief?”

  Brady said, “He’s not going to be officially blamed, but he’s going to be retired out. And everyone in the department will know why.”

  He pushed ice cream around with his spoon. Then he said, “I had to testify about all those bodies at the OK Corral. Made me sick to have to talk about that, knowing I was making the case against Jacobi. I really love the guy.”

  “What does he know?”

  “He knows it all. Every day, after the day shift punched out, I’d go up to his office,” Brady told her. “We’d talk about every case in all the squads, go over personnel, and discuss plans for how things are going to go forward. He wants me to take his job.”

  “He wants you to take over as chief of police?”

  “He doesn’t get a vote. He can make a recommendation, maybe.”

  Yuki felt closer to her husband than she had in months, and she even understood how badly he’d been feeling, how overworked, the weight he’d been carrying. What her hurt and anger hadn’t allowed her to see before. And she understood finally that Brady’s distance didn’t have to do with her. With them. And why he had had to keep it to himself.

  Their arms were tightly around each other. There was no distance between them now.

  “How is he taking this?” she asked.

  “He says he wants to retire, but I’m sure this isn’t how he wants to do it.”

  Yuki asked, “Brady, if they put you up for the job, will you take it?”

  “I don’t know, darlin’. I like the job I have. But who would come in as chief? Levant? Or some new sheriff comes into town. That would be a game changer. I’m standing in for Jacobi while they figure out who’s going to replace him.”

  “Starting when?”

  “Any minute. Could be tomorrow or next week at the latest. Hon?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve been so out of it. I’ve been working two jobs and depressed beyond belief. I’ve been dying to talk to you.”

  She said, “It’s okay, love. I understand now. I feel so bad for what you’ve been going through.”

  After Brady put the bowl on the floor, Yuki reached her arms up and put them around her husband’s neck.

  He held her close, kissing her deeply, then pulled away to fumble with the little buttons at the collar of her nightgown. When the buttons frustrated him, he pulled the slip of cotton up to her waist. She put her hands between his legs.

  Brady’s breathing was loud in her ears and she was burning up when he said, “Are you going to tell me about your day?”

  “No, and you can’t make me.”

  He grinned at her as he tugged off her panties and said, “I could just eat you up.”

  “Say please.”

  He laughed and said, “Please, please, please, baby, please.” He pulled her legs over his hips, telling her how much he missed her and loved her.

  Their lovemaking was fierce and touching. It brought Yuki all the way back from anger and fear and grief to the only man she had ever really loved. She felt, as she always did in his arms, protected and adored. Connecting with Brady sent her to a place where she didn’t have to be in control. She could just let go.

  She hoped he felt as she did—loved, understood, and safe. She was surprised when they were lying together in the afterglow and Brady began to cry in her arms.

  CHAPTER 98

  IT WAS THE day after my dramatic and embarrassing faint in the ladies’ room, and I was feeling pretty good. So I called a meeting of the Women’s Murder Club.

  I was so glad everyone was available, because I truly needed an evening out with my best buds.

  Susie’s Café is a mad scene on the weekend, filled with regulars and tourists and passersby drawn in by the smell of curry coming through the vents, the rhythmic plink of the steel drums, the bright-ocher walls, and the jollity seen through the windows.

  But tonight, a Thursday, Susie’s was only half filled. There were a dozen locals at the long bar, the vacant barstools like missing teeth in an otherwise broad smile, and there was a smattering of diners in the main room. And no drums.

  I waved at Lorraine and took the short walk down the corridor past the take-out window to the back room. I was last to arrive at our table.

  Cindy stood up to let me into the booth, putting a steadying hand around my arm as I edged in, asking me if I was okay.

  “I need a drink,” I said.

  “Hear, hear,” said Claire. Her hand was in the air, and Lorraine materialized with a glass for me and a refill on the pitcher of brew.

  “What’d I miss?” I asked the girls.

  Claire said, “I was just talking about my little one.”

  “Keep talking,” I said. Ruby Rose was four, a child with a big personality.

  “We were at Target,” Claire said. “I am looking for new soft-tread shoes, and Rosie is right next to me. Then she’s not. I start screaming, ‘Rosie, Rosie, Rosie!’ I’m picturing the posters on the telephone poles, and I am well on my way to pure freaking panic.

  “Then, there she is. I see her one aisle over. Rosie has seen a dress she just has to have. She has pulled off aaaall her clothes in the middle of the store except for panties that say ‘Momma’s Girl.’”

  “There’s a big relief,” I said, feeling it. Julie is younger than Rosie, but she has shown potential to live up to a frightening public display like that one.

  Claire went on.

  “I say, ‘Rosie, no. You can’t get naked in public.’

  “She says, ‘God likes naked kids.’ I say, ‘Please, Rosie. Put your clothes on, please.’

  “She says, loud. so everyone in the whole store can hear, ‘Mom, how many times do I have to tell you. I hate it when you beg.’”

  Yuki’s infectious peal of laughter carried across the back room, and we all were swept up in it when Lorraine appeared and said, “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re about to run out of shrimp.”

  When our orders were on the way to the kitchen, I said to Yuki, “Spill, girlfriend. Last I heard, the DA dropped the charges against Briana Hill.”

  She said, “That’s correct. And for the cherry on top, the Ad Shop is giving Briana her old job back.”

  A chorus of “Yahoo”s and “Thank God”s rose up around the table, and Yuki said, “I’ll drink to that.”

  We all did. And then Claire turned to me and asked, “How’re you doing, Linds? What did the doctor say?”

  “Nothing just yet. Dr. Arpino gave me a hell of a workup this morning. Pulled a whole lot of blood. So now we’re waiting for test results. I’m scared, guys. I have to admit it. I’m afraid it could be aplastic anemia.”

  “But you kicked it,” Cindy said. “Didn’t you?”

  I’d had aplastic anemia years before I married Joe, years before Julie. Back then, when I was diagnosed with that wretched and often fatal disease, I actually put my gun into my mouth before common sense and survival instinct pulled me back.

  I had so much more to live for now.

  I said, “Even if the symptoms disappear, it can come back. I haven’t told Joe what’s freaking me out. He thinks I’m just working too hard. I don’t want to scare him unless I’m sure. I don’t want to break his heart.”

  Yuki had grabbed a paper napkin and was weeping into it.

  “I’m sorry,” she blubbered. “Take the booze away from me.”

  Cindy put an arm around Yuki and drained her glass. She said to me, “You’re not scared alone, Lindsay. We’re all here.”

  Claire added, “Call us as soon as you hear.”

  I promised.

  Yuki said, “Tell Joe. You have to tell him. He needs to
go through this with you, and you need him, too.”

  “Group hug,” I said.

  We all stood up awkwardly in our booth and hugged across the table. I hoped this love and friendship would steady me until I saw Dr. Arpino again.

  CHAPTER 99

  THE NEXT DAY, early in the morning, I drove up Lake Street to Twelfth, but instead of heading to the Hall, I took a right onto Tenth, turned again onto California Street, and kept going.

  Dr. Arpino’s office was on a tidy block of houses on Broderick Street, many of which doubled as doctor’s offices. I didn’t have to check the house numbers. I knew the place—a gray-shingled Victorian with dormers and white trim and a mailbox painted with flowers.

  I stopped the car at the curb and sat there with the motor running. I thought about how when I’d gotten home last night, Joe had been almost glowing with good news.

  “I got the job, Blondie.”

  “And it’s the job you want?” I asked him.

  “Turns out that dick Benjamin Rollins and I have some friends in common.”

  “Wow. No kidding, Joe. This is amazing.”

  I’d hugged and kissed him, thinking this new job had come through at just the right time. If the worst happened—the stuff of my nightmares—the Molinari family would have one income, anyway. And probably a good one.

  I was due in Doc Arpino’s office in ten minutes, and he was usually on time. I turned on the radio to Jazz 91 and listened to something by the late, great Miles Davis. While “Blue in Green” carried the seconds along, I took out my phone and checked my incoming mail.

  There was nothing but spam to distract me. I opened the junk mail folder and imagined no more snoring, considered an urgent request for money to get my friend safely back from Europe, and imagined a trip to the Bahamas for only $77 a night, all expenses included.

  The Bahamas. If only.

  I dropped my phone back into my bag and watched a school bus stop on the opposite side of the street to pick up a kiddo, who dashed off his front steps and climbed up into the big yellow bus. Then the bus was on the move, and as it passed me, I put my car in gear and drove up the street to the intersection at Union.