“How involved were you with Ms. Morton?”
“We were friends.” At Rick’s over-the-shoulder look, Bobby added a terse, “Sometimes we slept together.”
Yuck, was all Vanessa could think. Aloud, she said, “What about Sylvia Porter?”
“I haven’t seen her.”
“Sure about that?” Rick asked, but this time Bobby held firm.
“The last time I saw snotty Sylvia was at her graduation. She ditched her cap and gown and me along with them.”
“You were involved with her?” Vanessa watched his twitching left eye go crazy. “Not just dating but actually involved with?”
“She came on to me.”
Now he sounded downright belligerent. Vanessa kept her tone neutral. “No need to defend, Bobby. Sylvia wasn’t a minor. Do you have any idea where she is now?”
“No. Look, I didn’t kill her if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It isn’t.” Rick leaned on the window frame. “But if you have information, like whether she’s alive or dead, now would be the time to mention it.”
Bobby scowled. He looked like a petulant child, except for his double chin. “I’ve told you what I know. Now if that’s all, I have work to do.”
“Not quite all, Bobby.” Vanessa took up a position across from Rick. “We have a few more questions. Unless you’d rather come downtown.”
Bobby recognized the trap. He returned her stare. “I have nothing to hide. Ask your questions.”
Thirty minutes later—and Vanessa suspected Rick had dragged it out longer than necessary—they were back on the street, free from the smells of chicken and rotting flowers. She shuddered off a strong sensation of decay and dropped her sunglasses into place.
Rick ran a finger along her arm. “Bit of a telling shiver there, Vanessa.”
“He used to touch us,” she revealed. “You know, position our hands and correct our stances. It didn’t seem so creepy back then, but at the moment I think I’d rather be lowered into a pit of spiders than let him get within five feet of me.”
“He’s hiding something.”
“I agree. I’m just not sure it involves any of the victims—although he did lie about seeing Deirdre.”
“I’d say Mr. Valley rates a thorough investigation.”
“By you or me?”
“I’ll do it. I’m used to being immersed in slime.”
“So am I, but you can have this one with my blessing.” And sincere sympathy.
The sun beat down on Vanessa’s head and shoulders. She tipped her face toward it. A streetcar clanged in the distance. A horn blasted nearby. A gorgeous man walked beside her. “I’m hungry,” she said. “Wanna take a stroll along the pier?”
“Is there an Armenian food stall there?”
“No, but there’s a great twisty pretzel stand. They have fifty different kinds of mustard.” She paused, then glanced across the street. “Did you ever see The Thomas Crown Affair?”
“I might have. What’s the story line?”
“There was this wealthy man, main character, who was leading a double life as a thief. He only stole for the challenge but—well, that’s not the point. I was looking at Bobby, and it suddenly occurred to me that if you stripped off those ridiculous shorts—gross thought—and the canary-yellow T, dressed him in normal clothes and gave him a purpose, he’d look a lot like the guy in that movie. Lead character played in the original by one Steve McQueen.”
Questioning Bobby turned out to be the highlight of Vanessa’s day. When she returned to the station, she discovered that the central air had broken down. Later, two leads dried up, concerning an investigation she’d been working on for six weeks.
An informant she’d come to rely on overdosed and had to have his heart restarted by paramedics, and Captain Palmer was barking at everyone in sight, including Geri who had nothing to do with anything. By the time she reached Vanessa’s desk, her face was flushed and her eyes snapping.
“Ungrateful man.” She batted damp strands of streaked blond hair from her cheeks. “I spend half the night going through dusty, old boxes for him, and he tells me to back off and leave the investigation to the pros.” She slapped a bundle of leather bound books onto Vanessa’s desk. “My college journals. I used to live in these things. I was thinking investigative reporter back then, so they’re packed with details. Mostly irrelevant, I imagine, but as one of the wannabes there could be a lead or two inside.”
Guilt rippled through Vanessa’s system. She’d known Geri well in college but had never pushed to make her one of the group.
“Now I feel like slime,” she murmured.
Misunderstanding her, Geri plucked at the string-tied stack. “Anyone would in this heat. So how’s it going? I know you’re holding up, but is that a brave front or the truth?”
She wouldn’t acknowledge the fear, Vanessa promised herself. She’d take all the necessary precautions, but no actual fear would sneak past her guard—or her lips.
“I’m good. I watched an old movie last night, then slept like the dead.” So much for her lips. She flicked her wrist. “You know what I mean.”
“You slept,” Geri repeated. “You also ate—I hope—then used your treadmill until your leg muscles went numb. But scary is scary, Vanessa, and there’s a loony wandering around, one who’s armed with a multitude of weapons.”
“Not helping me here, Geri.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just weird. While I was going through my journals, I kept having these ridiculous mixed feelings. On one hand, I’m glad I wasn’t one of the group at Berkeley, but on the other, and even though three of the women in that group are dead, I still wish I’d belonged. I mean, really, how messed up is that?”
“You felt left out. Resentment dies hard, right? It’s a normal human reaction.”
Her friend exhaled. “I guess. But I have to tell you, Van, I had a lot of pent up hostility at college. I don’t feel as bad about your friends as I probably should.”
“Only human.” Vanessa wheeled back from her computer. “You say you went through your journals. Do you have any idea who might have taken hostility to a whole new level?”
“Not a clue, and believe me, I was looking, and thinking. Hard.” Her gaze wandered to the captain’s office. “No red-hot bodyguard today?”
“Mmm, he’s in an empty office, doing FBI stuff.” Vanessa closed her current file and drew the bundle of books forward. “I appreciate the effort, even if Palmer doesn’t. He’s been like a bear with a thorn all day. The mayor’s riding his butt about something. And Rick’s not making his
