the
head.
'This
may be my last meal,' she said when we sat down. 'In which case I want a stack
of pineapple, coconut, and macadamia nut pancakes, swimming in hot caramel
sauce.'
'Hey,
add a side of sausage,' Terry said. 'That way if the shooter doesn't kill you,
your dinner will.'
'It's
not your last meal,' Diana said. 'Nothing's going to happen.'
'Especially
if you and the girls leave town for a few days,' Terry said. 'Maybe you could
fly to—'
'No,'
Marilyn said. 'Absolutely, positively, definitely not. And if I'm being too
vague, allow me to add, "No fucking way.'"
'Do
you mind if I ask the logic behind your decision?' Terry said.
'Sarah
just started college. Emily just started tenth grade. You want me to pull them
out of school? For a few days? Are you telling me it will be solved in a few days?'
'Fine,'
Terry said. 'Just wait till this maniac pops you, then the girls can take off
school for the wake and the funeral.'
'Maybe
he's not killing off our little real estate cartel,' Marilyn said. 'Maybe he's
just killing random cop wives.'
'Then
you're still a target.'
'But
it wouldn't be down to me and Marisol. He'd have thousands to choose from.'
'Jesus,
I hope you're wrong,' Terry said.
'You're hoping I'm next on the hit list?'
'No,
dammit. I just convinced Kilcullen not to issue a department-wide warning. What
if I'm wrong? What if this killer is after all cops' wives and families?'
'Well,
if he is,' Diana said, leaning over and stroking my cheek, 'that's another good
reason not to marry you.'
'I
don't remember asking,' I said. My cell phone rang. 'Can we discuss this some
other time?'
'Sure,'
she said. 'Marilyn, don't let me forget. Discuss marriage with Mike some other
time.'
I
answered the phone. 'Hello.'
'Sorry
to bother you so late, mate, but I've been interviewing Nora Bannister's
neighbours, and I've got something you and Biggs might fancy hearing.'
It
was Chris High.
I
glanced around the table. Marilyn and Diana were chatting it up about weddings.
Terry was sitting quietly, focused on me.
'Chris,
if you've got something, mate - anything - it's never too bloody late to call.'
Terry
nodded. He was locked in to my half of the conversation.
'It
may be nothing,' Chris said.
'Try
me.'
'Well,
it's a quiet neighbourhood. Not too many people around. And the folks who are
home are locked up in these big houses, completely isolated from the outside
world. Nobody hears or sees anything because they're either at the pool, or
watching Dr Phil, or working on their next martini. But this one woman who
lives two houses up the road from Bannister said that she left a FedEx package
at her front door for pickup at three, and it was gone when she checked at
five. So I thought, maybe the FedEx driver saw something.'
'And
you tracked down the FedEx guy,' I said.
'It
took a bit of time,' High said. 'FedEx was cooperative, but I still had to jump
through hoops before I found someone who could give me his name and home phone
number.'
'And?'
'The
driver's name is Joe Price. According to FedEx he picked up the package at 4:04
p.m., and according to Price, that's when he saw a black BMW convertible pull
out of Bannister's driveway, and take off in a big hurry.'
'Did
he see the driver?'
'Nothing
we can use,' High said. 'Back of a head through tinted windows. But he did get
a partial on the plate. He says it caught his eye because his name is Joe, and it
was a vanity plate that started with JO.'
'It
started with JO,' I repeated, and Terry's eyebrows went up.
'Right.
And there's only one car in the state that's a match. It's registered to our
boy Tony Dominguez's wife, Marisol.'
'Chris,
that's damn good police work. Why do you say it may be nothing?'
'As
I recall from our little go-around on Monday, Tony's wife works with Nora
Bannister. One writes the books, the other sells the houses. So it wouldn't be
unusual for Marisol to be parked outside Bannister's house.'
'Except
for one thing,' I said. 'She just told
head.
'This
may be my last meal,' she said when we sat down. 'In which case I want a stack
of pineapple, coconut, and macadamia nut pancakes, swimming in hot caramel
sauce.'
'Hey,
add a side of sausage,' Terry said. 'That way if the shooter doesn't kill you,
your dinner will.'
'It's
not your last meal,' Diana said. 'Nothing's going to happen.'
'Especially
if you and the girls leave town for a few days,' Terry said. 'Maybe you could
fly to—'
'No,'
Marilyn said. 'Absolutely, positively, definitely not. And if I'm being too
vague, allow me to add, "No fucking way.'"
'Do
you mind if I ask the logic behind your decision?' Terry said.
'Sarah
just started college. Emily just started tenth grade. You want me to pull them
out of school? For a few days? Are you telling me it will be solved in a few days?'
'Fine,'
Terry said. 'Just wait till this maniac pops you, then the girls can take off
school for the wake and the funeral.'
'Maybe
he's not killing off our little real estate cartel,' Marilyn said. 'Maybe he's
just killing random cop wives.'
'Then
you're still a target.'
'But
it wouldn't be down to me and Marisol. He'd have thousands to choose from.'
'Jesus,
I hope you're wrong,' Terry said.
'You're hoping I'm next on the hit list?'
'No,
dammit. I just convinced Kilcullen not to issue a department-wide warning. What
if I'm wrong? What if this killer is after all cops' wives and families?'
'Well,
if he is,' Diana said, leaning over and stroking my cheek, 'that's another good
reason not to marry you.'
'I
don't remember asking,' I said. My cell phone rang. 'Can we discuss this some
other time?'
'Sure,'
she said. 'Marilyn, don't let me forget. Discuss marriage with Mike some other
time.'
I
answered the phone. 'Hello.'
'Sorry
to bother you so late, mate, but I've been interviewing Nora Bannister's
neighbours, and I've got something you and Biggs might fancy hearing.'
It
was Chris High.
I
glanced around the table. Marilyn and Diana were chatting it up about weddings.
Terry was sitting quietly, focused on me.
'Chris,
if you've got something, mate - anything - it's never too bloody late to call.'
Terry
nodded. He was locked in to my half of the conversation.
'It
may be nothing,' Chris said.
'Try
me.'
'Well,
it's a quiet neighbourhood. Not too many people around. And the folks who are
home are locked up in these big houses, completely isolated from the outside
world. Nobody hears or sees anything because they're either at the pool, or
watching Dr Phil, or working on their next martini. But this one woman who
lives two houses up the road from Bannister said that she left a FedEx package
at her front door for pickup at three, and it was gone when she checked at
five. So I thought, maybe the FedEx driver saw something.'
'And
you tracked down the FedEx guy,' I said.
'It
took a bit of time,' High said. 'FedEx was cooperative, but I still had to jump
through hoops before I found someone who could give me his name and home phone
number.'
'And?'
'The
driver's name is Joe Price. According to FedEx he picked up the package at 4:04
p.m., and according to Price, that's when he saw a black BMW convertible pull
out of Bannister's driveway, and take off in a big hurry.'
'Did
he see the driver?'
'Nothing
we can use,' High said. 'Back of a head through tinted windows. But he did get
a partial on the plate. He says it caught his eye because his name is Joe, and it
was a vanity plate that started with JO.'
'It
started with JO,' I repeated, and Terry's eyebrows went up.
'Right.
And there's only one car in the state that's a match. It's registered to our
boy Tony Dominguez's wife, Marisol.'
'Chris,
that's damn good police work. Why do you say it may be nothing?'
'As
I recall from our little go-around on Monday, Tony's wife works with Nora
Bannister. One writes the books, the other sells the houses. So it wouldn't be
unusual for Marisol to be parked outside Bannister's house.'
'Except
for one thing,' I said. 'She just told
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