Page 56 of Accidental Murder
Kayla ran to the bedroom. Snatched the canvas backpack off the floor. Tossed it on the bed. She whipped open the closet door and winced at the choices. With cutting clarity, she realized her sister’s designer tastes would never be hers. She selected a pair of pressed jeans, blue sweater, and bejeweled tennis shoes—impractical but wearable—then yanked a pair of panties and a bra from the dresser drawer. To her surprise, she found a roll of cash stuffed in a silk stocking beneath them. She thumbed through it. Over five hundred dollars.
She thrust the undergarments to Eve and threw the stocking on the coverlet. “Put these in the backpack, please.” She pointed to the satchel, shimmied out of the nightgown, and pulled on Ashley’s jeans.
“I also reached out to Jacob Feinstein,” Eve said.
“He’s not dead. I spoke to him.”
“I met him at the memorial, so just in case, I didn’t pretend to be you on the call. I was a reporter. I asked him about Brain Juice,” Eve went on. “He claimed it was a vitamin, like you said, but he sounded sketchy. So I checked with the manufacturer. The woman I spoke to wouldn’t divulge the ingredients. She told me it includes advanced echinacea, which sounded okay. But call me cynical, so I contacted a buddy at the Patent Office. Brain Juice is, indeed, listed as a vitamin. End of story. Unless, of course, Jacob and his buddies at GLU are trafficking drugs on the side and the brain stuff is a cover.” Eve pocketed her notebook. “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, reconsider turning yourself in to the police and begging their protection.”
“I can’t. The perp they had in custody is dead. They say he committed suicide.”
“Holy—” Eve’s cell phone chimed.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“Who’s calling you?”Kayla tugged the sweater over her midriff and jammed the wad of cash in the pocket of the jeans.
“Your yoga instructor client returning my call,” Eve said.
“Let it roll into voicemail.” Kayla charged to the door, but paused and turned back. She surveyed the bedroom. What was she forgetting? Something important.
“Did you call anyone on your list?” Eve asked.
“Yes.”
“Did any of them die?”
“Yes. Sara Simmons. She was the bioethicist I told you about. She committed suicide.” Kayla recapped the meeting with Sara’s husband.
Eve ticked points on her fingertips. “Suicide by a client. Suicide by the suspect in custody. Three other clients dead by accident. I’m telling you, they were all murdered.”
Kayla’s stomach reeled at the idea. No. It couldn’t be true. But it made sense. Sick sense.
“Do you agree with my theory?” Eve hoisted the backpack onto her shoulder.
“If so, there must be more than one killer.”
“Not necessarily. A pro could murder tons of people inside of twenty-four hours. But yes, a group effort sounds more likely.”
Kayla visualized Jacob and his partner Baker staring after her at GLU. Were they co-conspirators? Again, something nagged her. She eyed Ashley’s desk and the realization hit her. “Eve, I met with Phyllis, Fred, and Mary on Monday or Tuesday of this week.” She’d written the appointments in her datebook—her missing datebook.
“All three? Did you meet with Sara, too?”
“No. We’d been playing phone tag, but we had a standing lunch date Tuesday.” Kayla sucked back a sob. “I had appointments with Jacob Feinstein and Nolan Trask, as well.”
“Yet they’re alive. Is Richard Troy alive?”
“Who?”
“Your blind date on Tuesday night.”
“I’d forgotten about him.” She’d entered the event into the datebook but not his name.
She raced into the bathroom to collect toiletries while rehashing possibilities in her mind. Nolan Trask had the skills to commit murder, but he didn’t make a move to eliminate her when she went to his house. Jacob phoned her, sounding frantic. He needed to see her. To silence her forever? William Norton chased her on the freeway. Angry husband or maniacal killer? Her uncle was worried that Richard Troy might have killed Ashley. Was he right? And what about Dennis? She could not dismiss him out of hand.
“As far as I know”—she returned to the bedroom, took the backpack from Eve, and stuffed in the toiletries—“no one leaked secrets to me. I never uploaded any criminal information. I never saw anything at their houses or offices that would get me—” She sucked in a sharp breath. “That would getAshleykilled. And why hasn’t the killer gone after you?”
“Because I wasn’t on your calendar this week.”
