A Dead Sister (Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery) by Anna Burke Page A

of the guys in the Cold Case unit. He’s going on about the kind of thing they have to sort out when they’re reviewing a cold case. Like some lowlife who gets nabbed by the cops, caught red-handed doing something he shouldn’t d o. What does he want to do? Play ‘let’s make a deal’ by claiming he’s got information about an old crime. They never know what to make of it. Does he have something legit, or is he just bullshitting or maybe recycling old news about a case?”
    “Okay,” Jessica said. “I’m following you. What has this got to do with Kelly?”
    “Well, Art goes on and on about the latest bozo sitting in jail who claims he knows something about a girl who was murdered. The guy’s a third striker. You know a guy who’s going away for a long time unless he can make that deal? They caught him with a bunch of drugs and drug paraphernalia, and the clincher, a gun. It wasn’t loaded, but it adds to the trouble he’s already in.” Jessica nodded, encouraging him to get on with the story.
    “So, the public defender assigned to the case goes to the county prosecutor’s office about his client’s claims. The prosecutor asks Art to check it out. He pays the guy a visit but doesn’t get very far because the old ‘tweaker’ is being cagey. Art figures he’s pushing fifty, maybe. It’s pretty rare for a serious meth addict to live as long as he has. It’s no wonder he doesn’t want to spend what little life he has left locked up. Art is sort of mimicking the guy who says something about: ‘It weren’t no accident. It was on purpose.’ I’m only half listening to all this until Art says something about this all happening so long ago near the casino in Palm Springs. Now he’s got my attention. I ask him to repeat what he just said. The girl he witnessed being murdered was run down in a hotel parking lot at the casino in downtown Palm Springs.”
    A jolt of recognition hit. “When?”
    “I’m not even sure, Jessica. Art says he was about ready to let it go, but he can look into it a little more if I want him to. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. This guy’s claiming she was murdered, Jessica. If it was Kelly, does it make any difference how she died? It won’t bring her back if they reopen the investigation. It will reopen old wounds. And there’s no guarantee that this half-wasted human being can give the police enough information to find her killer. Or that they can make charges stick, even if they dig up a suspect. Uncle Sammy and Aunt Monica have been through so much, I don’t know what to do. Did it make a difference to Laura that you found out who killed Roger?”
    Jessica’s mind was in a whirl hearing the questions he asked and distress in Frank’s voice. The alarm for the coffee went off. They both jumped! Frank must have been concentrating as hard as she was, or his nerves were as shot as hers. They looked at each other and burst out laughing, releasing the tension that gripped them both.
    “You think we need caffeine? Maybe I should be pouring a couple scotches!”
    “If I didn’t have to go home and face Mom, I’d ask you to add a little something to the coffee. She won’t like it if I have a drink and then drive home, and if I stick around long enough to let the buzz wear off, I’ll be late for dinner. So, there you go!” Jessica was back at the table after running to turn off the alarm. Frank had already pressed the coffee and was pouring it into mugs.
    “Boy! Does that smell wonderful! The stuff I have to drink a lot of the time is strong enough to strip paint, and the taste is hard to take. There is a Starbucks nearby, so if I have time, I’ll make a coffee run to get a decent cup. I have to watch it, though, or I can go through a lot of money in a month on coffee. I just found out Evie is going to need braces.” He took a sip of coffee after stirring in some half-and-half.
    “Ah! Fantastic! Maybe I should get into the habit of making a pot at home and