“Because Jill Bernhardt wants to nail this guy as much as we do,” I said with conviction.
“That’s all?” groaned Cindy.
I sipped a soothing mouthful of tea, met her eyes. “And because I invited her into our group.”
Chapter 73
THE FOLLOWING DAY we met after work for a drink at Susie’s; it was Jill’s introduction to our group.
All day, I couldn’t fix on anything other than the thought of confronting Jenks with what we knew and bringing him in. I wanted to accelerate everything — a face-to-face confrontation. I wanted to let him know we had him. Goddamn Red Beard.
As we waited for drinks, I threw out a couple of new developments. A search of Kathy Kogut’s home in Seattle had uncovered Jenks’s name and phone number in the dead bride’s phone book. A trace by Northwest Bell had turned up three calls to him in the past month — including one three days before the Cleveland wedding. It confirmed what Merrill Shortley had told us.
“Right up to the very end,” said Claire. “Creepy. Both of them, actually.”
We had run Jenks’s photo by Maryanne Perkins of Saks as part of a photo spread with five others. We desperately needed something that pinned him to the first crime. She paused over his likeness for a few seconds. “It’s him,” she declared. Then she paused. “But then, it’s hard to tell. It was so quick. And far away.”
The thought of a defense attorney cross-examining her didn’t sit well with me. It didn’t surprise me that Jill agreed.
It took no longer than a single margarita for her to make a seamless entry into our group.
Claire had met her a few times when she testified at trials. They had developed a mutual respect for each other’s rise through their male-dominated departments.
We asked Jill about herself, and she told us she was Stanford Law and her father was a corporate attorney back in Dallas. No interest in the corporate thing. That was for her husband, Steve, who was running a venture fund for Bank America.
They lived in Burlingame — affluent, exclusive — took rock-climbing treks in the desert at Moab. No kids. “It just doesn’t fit right now,” she said.
Jill seemed to live the epitome of the fast, successful life. At the same time, there seemed to be something missing. Maybe she was tired from the grind, the pace of her accomplishments.
When our drinks arrived, Claire and I toasted Cindy’s ingenuity in coming up with Jenks’s name in such short time. And beating two police departments to the punch.
Claire raised a glass to her. “You’re pretty good for a rookie, of course. But you’re still not the king.” She smiled at me.
“So I’m thinking,” Jill said, looking around the table. “I know I can hold my own at dinner parties and all… but that’s not why you asked me in, is it? Seems like we have all the angles covered here: the press, the force, medical examiner. Just what kind of a group is this?”
I answered, since it was I who had invited her in. “Women. Climbing the ladder in their careers. Law enforcement.”
“Yeah, with soft, pushover types for bosses,” put in Cindy.
“Well, I qualify there,” said Jill. “And it doesn’t hurt that each of you seems to have some connection with the bride and groom case.”
I held my breath. Jill could blow this whole thing if she wanted to, but she was here. “We have been sort of working together,” I admitted. “Outside the investigation.”
Over margaritas, I explained how we had originally gotten together. How we had come upon this case, trying to solve it, sharing what we knew, freelance. How it had become a sort of bond. How things had just gotten a bit deeper.
Jill arched her eyebrows. “I assume you’re sharing all this with the investigation?”
“Of course,” I insisted. “Well, sort of.” I told her how we were giving Cindy only what the department was about to release to the press at large. How there was a thrill in cutting through the departments, advancing the case.
“I know it’s a different game when everything starts to get legal,” I said. “If any of this makes you uncomfortable…”
We were all sort of hanging there, awaiting her response. Loretta came, and we ordered another round. We were still hanging — waiting on Jill.
“How about I let you know when things start to get uncomfortable,” Jill said. She widened her blue eyes. “In the meantime, you’re gonna need a lot stronger corroboration if we want to take this thing to court.”
The three of us breathed a sigh of relief. We tilted our near-empty glasses toward our new member.
“So, this outfit have a name?” Jill inquired.