“Even with you?” Jessie challenged. “No gossip over cookie baking?”
Helen shook her head.
“No way,” she insisted. “I think she knew that it would ruin her business. If she was willing to tell me about someone else, she knew I’d worry she was telling someone else about us.”
“You’re sure?” Jessie pushed. “I can claim I got the name from an anonymous source.”
“No, she never mentioned a name,” Helen reiterated.
Jessie sat silently in her chair. She thought she’d had this great lead that would break open the case. But now it was turning into just another dead end. And she’d pursued it at great risk to her career. If the Zellers ever mentioned this meeting to anyone, she’d be screwed.
She was briefly tempted to warn them not to discuss this with anyone else as a means of protecting herself. But the idea made her feel dirty and she dismissed it. Suddenly Helen’s head popped up. Jessie could see she’d had an epiphany of some kind.
“What?” she asked.
“Melissa never said anything to me. But she did give me something. About a week and a half ago, just a few days before she brought up her uneasiness with our arrangement, she gave me an envelope. She asked me to keep it for her, said that she’d pick it up at some point. She didn’t say what was in it, but I could tell it was important to her. I kept it in the living room between some magazines. I showed her where in case she needed it and I wasn’t here.”
She left the room and came back a minute later with a sealed envelope. She handed it to Jessie.
“Maybe it’ll help?” she said hopefully.
“Maybe,” Jessie agreed, not willing to open it front of them. “I’m going to see myself out. But this isn’t necessarily over. I’m looking for a killer. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Keep your noses clean.”
Both Zellers nodded vigorously as Jessie left the kitchen. She made sure to walk down the hall to the front door at a normal, unhurried pace. She didn’t rip open the envelope until she was back in her car.
*
They were photos.
Inside the envelope were photos of three men, all taken while they slept. Jessie didn’t recognize any of them. She was debating how to best identify them when her phone rang. It was Captain Decker. Her heart sank.
“This is Hunt,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “What’s up, Captain?”
“Where are you right now?” he demanded.
“I’m looking into a personal issue,” she said carefully.
“That’s interesting. Because I thought I ordered you and Hernandez to handle that tennis coach murder.”
“Yes, Captain,” she said as soothingly as she could. “I just resolved the issue and was about to join him.”
“Hunt, let me be clear. If I find out that you are pursuing the Penn murder, after I explicitly pulled you off it, you will be brought up on disciplinary charges. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes sir.”
Decker hung up without another word.
*
When Jessie pulled up to the Beverly Country Club in Hancock Park, Ryan was just walking out of the clubhouse.
“Solve the case yet?” she asked cheekily as she got out of her car.
“Pretty much,” he answered.
“You’re serious?” Jessie said, impressed.
“Yup,” Ryan answered, unable to hide a proud smile. “The tennis coach, Paulo Risotre, was actually killed in the men’s locker room. His head was smashed in with a glass vase. Then he was dragged out to the court and the killer smashed him a few more times with a racket, which was left near the body. We have footage of the killer moving the body outside. He was wearing a hoodie but we think we know who he is.”
“How’s that?” Jessie asked.
“Because afterward, this genius in the hoodie got into a car and drove off. Surveillance footage caught the license plate. It belongs to a club member named Warren Cresper. Talk around the club is that Paulo was giving more than just tennis lessons to Cresper’s wife, Maddy. Now we’re just waiting for fingerprints on the vase and racket to come back.”
“What does Cresper say?” Jessie wanted to know.
“Conveniently enough, Mr. Cresper is currently booked on a three-fifteen flight to Bahia Blanca, Argentina. We have people headed to LAX now to greet him before he leaves.”
“Wow,” Jessie marveled. “It sounds like you’ve got this thing all squared away without my help.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not dealing with a criminal mastermind here. But I’m not sure Decker’s going to consider that an excuse for you to go off pursuing ‘personal’ issues.”
Jessie decided to let the mild dig slide.
“He already expressed his displeasure,” she conceded. “If it turns out my business wasn’t legitimately personal, he’s submitting me for disciplinary action.”
Ryan shook his head.
“Then I sure hope it was worth it.”
“It wasn’t personal, Ryan,” she said flat out. “I’m sure you’re shocked to hear that. But I do think it was worth it. I was following up a lead and I think it’s promising.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
“Because I need to know if you think this is legit or if I’m just chasing my tail here. I’m starting to lose perspective.”
He shook his head.
“You realize that by asking for my thoughts, you’re technically involving me in the case and putting me at risk of discipline?”
“Ryan,” she said reassuringly, “we’re just two co-workers having a friendly chat in the parking lot. I don’t think your pension is at risk here.”
“I’m glad you’re so confident,” he said testily.
“Should I not ask?” she retorted, feeling a little snippy herself.
He sighed. She knew she was pushing the bounds of what was appropriate in both their professional and personal relationships. But there was no one whose opinion she trusted on this more than his. It occurred to her that it couldn’t hurt to say that.
“Listen,” she continued. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position. If you want, we can forget I brought it up. It’s just that I’m in the weeds here and what you think matters to me. I value your perspective. But I can investigate it without you if you prefer. Just know that either way, I’m not giving up on this case, regardless of the consequences.”
Ryan’s expression was hard to read. His lips were pursed into a grimace but his eyes suggested something else.
Admiration maybe?
“What’s your lead?” he finally asked.
She smiled and leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek.
“I figured out who some of those initials belonged to,” she said. “H.Z. plus M.Z. They turned out to be a married couple in Beverly Hills. The guy was paying to sleep with Michaela. They both appear to have an alibi for that night but for reasons I can explain later, they were holding on to an envelope she gave them. It had photos of what I believe are other clients of hers. The problem is that I don’t recognize any of them and I’m worried that putting them through the system will alert the wrong people that I’m still poking around. I was hoping you might have some suggestions.”