Severed Relations Read online

  Medium Man had dropped Mort off in good time, thanking him for the business, asking if he had anything else in the pipeline. Mort said no so fast that Medium Man could tell he was still a little pissed about what happened in that house. Well, Medium Man was none too pleased with himself either but what was done was done. He wasn't very good with words, so Medium Man just dropped Mort off where Mort said. He didn't drop him at a house or even an apartment but at the end of a street that had a liquor store on the corner. He bet Mort lived in a real nice place, though. He bet Mort didn't want Medium Man to see where he lived just in case Medium Man got it into his head to hit his place. Not that he would, but Mort was a smart and cautious guy so he got out on the corner near the liquor store.

  Then Medium Man forgot all about where Mort lived and drove to the place where he was supposed to leave the car. He wiped down the steering wheel and the seat, locked the doors, pocketed the keys even though he was supposed to ditch them, and walked away, proud that he hadn't made any mistakes. The keys weren't a mistake, really. It would be a few days before anyone noticed the car and had it towed, and Medium Man kind of liked having wheels if he wanted. A day or two of fun wouldn't hurt nothin'. Mort was still so mad, though, that Medium Man didn't want to chance that he might see him driving around just then, so he took the bus to Fairy Tails. He was in need of a drink even though it was only a little after three in the afternoon.

  Fairy Tails was crowded considering it was hump day and most people should be at work. Medium Man loved that expression – hump day – but he didn't like crowds. The bartender was busy concocting anything that was ordered and a few things that weren't. Stand by Your Man blared from the jukebox. Medium Man hadn't been at Fairy Tails long, but it seemed to him like that was the only song on the darn thing. When it started to play for about the tenth time, one person loudly lamented the passing of Tammy like it was yesterday and some of the guys on the dance floor started to sing along. With all that going on nobody gave the man of medium height, medium build, and medium coloring a second glance.

  Just as he reached the bar for another drink a huge guy who was tatted up the wazoo picked up two drinks and backed away. Medium Man moved aside, muscles moved. Medium Man ordered cheap scotch. When he turned around, the first thing he saw was a man even less impressive than himself. Upon closer inspection, Medium Man saw that he was really just a boy. His face was covered with raging acne, infected pimples, and fiery cysts. He had desperate-for-a-friend eyes. He was a runaway for sure. Or maybe he was legal but had been kicked out of a house and his parents had thought good riddance, one less mouth to feed. When the boy looked his way, Medium Man smiled. He didn't expect the boy to see him and that's why he almost fell over when the boy smiled back.

  Medium Man's heart beat hard in his chest as he started for the boy. He stopped and winced before he got too far. His ribs hurt where the woman had butted him. That reminded him of what he had done. He felt bad, but not for the nanny. He felt bad for the dark haired lady who, he was sure, had found out about her kids by now. He had wanted to let her know he felt bad, thinking that would make up a little to her for what he had done, but Mort didn't want him leaving a note or nothing. Medium Man promised himself to think of a way to show that he was sorry. Since he couldn't do that right away, he decided to treat the boy nicely.

  Dodging a couple of guys who were hitting on each other, he ran into a man's chair accidently causing the man to grumble, and then he was with the boy. The boy didn't run away. He didn't make a face like he wished Medium Man would go away either, so Medium Man leaned down and put his hands on the table between them. He was just about to speak when he realized something was wrong. His pinky finger was naked. The long nail he had so lovingly cultivated was broken off at the quick and that just turned his stomach. That bitch; that nanny bitch. She was the one who did it, fighting like that when she should have just not fought at all.

  Medium Man let go of his drink and slipped his hands off the table. He sat down in the chair, weary and disheartened. Wasn't that always the way? You work hard for something and wham, someone screws you out of it. Tammy Wynette wailed, all the conversation in Fairy Tails was just a big blob of sound, and in the middle of the madness the boy waited for Medium Man to speak. When he finally looked at the boy, Medium Man understood the world better than he ever had. They didn't belong there. The boy needed to be taken care of; Medium Man wanted to take care of someone. It was as simple as that.

  "Do you want to come home with me?" Medium Man asked.

  The boy tipped his head. It was more than he expected, maybe more than he wanted, but it wasn't a bad idea.

  A roof was a roof.

  A guy was a guy.

  He could always leave if he wanted.

  CHAPTER 9

  In fifth grade, Finn O'Brien learned that bosses were usually no better than the people they bossed.

  That lesson was learned when the nuns of Our Mother of Perpetual Peace defied the Vatican and shed their habits. Finn had known all along that there were women hiding under those starched wimples and black habits. He could tell by the hands that would suddenly appear from underneath their scapulars. Those delicate, long fingered hands were definitely those of women but they were not the loving hands one would expect. Those hands were always holding a ruler to whack at a boy who, they all agreed, was too independent for his own good. More often than not, the boy they were whacking was Finn O'Brien. He didn't flinch when they came at him and that displeased the good sisters, but he saw no reason to take exception to the whacking. If the sisters were brides of God, then God must have been whispering in their ears about all the things that made him deserving of their discipline: tying his brother's shoestrings together in a knot, listening at his parents' door in the night to see if he could hear them 'doing it', taking a punch at Aidan Gallagher who called Finn's sister a cow. He deserved a little heavenly wrath if the truth be told and if a rap on the head was okay with God, it was okay with Finn O'Brien.

  Yet the day the sisters stood in front of the classroom clad in their new uniforms of blue dresses and sensible shoes, touching their heads as if they might fall off without benefit of a bonnet, Finn figured out that nuns were not only human, they were particularly unimpressive humans. That got him to thinking a little about God's mental state, too. Why, Finn wondered, would God want such a bevy of brides in the first place, plain as they were, timid as they now seemed. He pondered that for many a day and finally he came to a conclusion. Authority had nothing to do with a uniform or a title; real authority had to do with how a body handled himself. Without all the trappings of their high mightiness, the nuns were not handling themselves well. They didn't even whack him much anymore. So, at age eleven, he went about the task of figuring out who was deserving of his respect. His dad and ma made the cut but few others did. Even God didn't fare well under Finn O'Brien's youthful scrutiny and that lack of reverence proved to be his undoing.

  God bided his time and then, once the family was well settled in America, God smote Finn down for his arrogance. God's rage was more horrible and humbling than anything a young man could ever imagine. God let Alexander, Finn's littlest and favorite brother, be taken and violated and killed. God let this happen on Finn's watch to make sure that the boy knew the lesson was for him. Finn respected God a whole lot after that terrible smack down, but earthly authority was still suspect and Finn was often at odds with it.

  Today, though, he was at war with himself. Independence of thought and action were being challenged by practicality and caution. On the one hand, Finn wanted to tell Captain Fowler to step aside and stop wasting their time with his micromanaging. On the other hand, Finn was on probation at Wilshire Division and if Bev was truly wanting a divorce he could not afford to be without a job. Not to mention that he could be nothing else in his life but a cop. Given all that, towing the line was the wise decision. So Finn kept his impatience to himself and spent his time admiring Cori's winning ways with the top brass as she gave Fo
wler exactly what he wanted.

  "The Barnetts have been married ten years and moved to Fremont Place…four years ago?" She rewrote that note as she muttered about reading her own handwriting and then picked up where she left off. "They moved four years ago."

  "Before that?" Fowler asked.

  "Rancho Park. South of Pico. East of Overland. Cheviot Hills adjacent as the realtors like to call it. Mr. Barnett worked out of one unit of their duplex and they lived in the other. It was good real estate but nothing like Fremont Place. That was quite a leap."

  "Not if they stretched on the mortgage," Finn suggested. "And a young lawyer's fortunes can change in a blink."

  "Except for them it wasn't just a mortgage on their mini estate," Cori reminded him. "It was the whole ball of wax: The Miracle Mile office, the cars, the art, substantial jewelry. Mrs. Barnett says her husband hit pay dirt so fast it made her head spin. They got rich and moved within a year. They've been getting richer ever since."

  "Did she give you any idea what the big break was?" Fowler asked.

  "The lady is clueless. Me, I'd want to know about every cent that came and went." Cori pulled off her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes with the tip of one finger so she wouldn't mess her blue shadow. "It was a pure division of labor. He worked; she took care of the house and kids. My ex never heard of labor much less division of it."

  Finn smiled, until he saw Fowler scowl. He sat up straighter and added his two cents so the captain would know he was engaged.

  "Mr. Barnett told me as much, but he made it sound as if he worked his behind off. I'm more inclined to believe him. Sometimes a missus doesn't know the whole story of how hard a man works."

  "You're right. What do I know, anyway? I've never actually had a husband," Cori said.

  "More's the pity for all of mankind," Finn said.

  "Let's keep it professional," Fowler suggested.

  He didn't care how the chemistry worked between Cori Anderson and Finn O'Brien, but he sure didn't want the two of them trading pillow talk about this case. He waved at Cori. She gave Finn a little smirk and put her glasses back on.

  "We've already requested financials on the Barnetts and Rachel Gerber. Barnett's ex partner is backpacking in the Sierras. We'll grab him the minute he gets home."

  "Does Barnett specialize?" Fowler asked.

  "He does civil work now. Contracts, some litigation," Finn answered. "But there was a stint with the district attorney's office. It's possible someone's carrying a grudge. If this is about lawyering, I'm betting it's something recent. Civil disputes mean money, and money is always good for blood." Finn flipped a page in his notebook. "He also sits on the stadium commission."

  Cori whistled. "There's a lot of people would kill for that appointment."

  "Let's hope that's a figure of speech," Fowler muttered. "All we need is for this to turn into some political hot potato. What about his staff?"

  "Barnett has had the same secretary for years. He used a freelance paralegal until he moved to Wilshire. Now he's got one full-time. No partners yet. There's a bookkeeper and an accountant. I'll be having Cori meet up with Mr. Barnett's secretary and paralegal tomorrow. According to Barnett, the break-up with his old partner was amicable. Still, it's not unheard of for an ex to be upset down the road when one of them is living large and the other may not be."

  "That would be a heck of a grudge if the guy took it out on the kids," Cori muttered.

  "Stranger things have happened. Right now all avenues are open. Barnett is also a member of a couple of fancy clubs – tennis and golf. He's straight out of central casting, that one." Finn closed his book and uncrossed his legs, wanting to be out of the small office Fowler had assigned to them. "Their travel checks out. They were at George V in Paris when this went down or they were in transit. We'll know better when we have a time of death."

  "Did you ask him about the nanny? Anything personal there that you could tell?" Fowler asked.

  "I'm not thinking so." Finn shook his head. "Barnett gave me the basics and there was no sign that he was uncomfortable talking about her. He asked if I thought he should be the one to contact her family or the service that placed her. I told him the placement agency. She had a friend she often saw on the weekends. Checking him out will be priority. The Barnetts didn't have contact information for him. Hopefully, we can get it off the phone or the computer. We'll check out her friends."

  "What about the wife? Work? Clubs?" Fowler directed the question to Cori.

  "She has a nursing degree." Cori ran her fingertips under the sweep of hair that crossed her forehead. "Lord it's hot in here. Anyway, she quit working when the kids came along. She also thought the nanny was unnecessary since being a mom was her job."

  "Then why was the nanny living in the house?" Finn asked.

  "Because Mr. Barnett is a poor-kid-makes-real-good and he wanted all the things money could buy," Cori answered. "The wife stopped short of saying he was obsessed, but it was implied. Nothing was too good for Barnett or his family. She did suggest that maybe the nanny took the kids out."

  "She was grasping at straws. No way that was a murder/suicide." Fowler dismissed the idea, but Finn was curious about the comment. He asked:

  "What was a reason for that thinking?"

  "Her theory was that a woman Rachel's age was probably jealous. She tended to other people's children but had none of her own; she had a room in a house that wasn't her own. That kind of thing," Cori said. "But when I pressed her she admitted that Rachel Gerber never expressed those sentiments."

  "There seems to be a wee bit of discord between the missus and the nanny," Finn noted. "We'll lock it down."

  "What else?" Fowler asked.

  "Just the bottom line. Mr. Barnett works like a dog, active in the legal community while Mrs. Barnett volunteers at her kids' schools and at Cedar's hospital three mornings a week at an onsite outpatient clinic for street people, vets, and the elderly with nowhere else to go. According to her, there's never been a problem."

  "Looks like you have your hands full," Fowler said. "Are we done?"

  "Last thing, we walked the housekeeper through downstairs but she doesn't think anything was taken. Nothing appeared to be moved. She said Mrs. Barnett is very particular about the house. She did tell us that she feels responsible for what happened. It seems the little ones were supposed to be at her house having a sleepover with her grandchildren," Finn said.

  Fowler asked: "Was that unusual?"

  "Sort of. It was the first time. Mrs. Barnett arranged it before they left. Her girls and the granddaughters had played together before but always at the Barnett house. The housekeeper said that Mrs. Barnett told the girls it was their vacation. All the kids were very excited."

  "Then what were they doing in the house?" Fowler asked.

  "One of the granddaughters got the flu. The housekeeper called the nanny, and the nanny agreed to stay home with them."

  "Did the housekeeper say if the nanny was upset?"

  "She said she wasn't happy, but she was good with it," Cori answered.

  "Any idea of what the nanny's plans were?" Fowler asked.

  Cori said: "The woman couldn't remember if Rachel mentioned specific plans."

  "Does the housekeeper have a key?" Fowler asked.

  "She does, but she swears it's never been out of her possession," Finn said. "But she has an extended family in East L.A., and I'm thinking some might not be exactly legal. Cori will be paying a visit tomorrow, and we can run the family through for gang affiliation and priors. We'll check with ICE if it's called for."

  "Sounds like you're focused. Let's get it down." Fowler stood up and maneuvered his way to the door. He took his jacket off the hook and put it on. "And don't discount a random act. Make checking out the regulars a priority: pool and delivery services, gardeners. They hire day laborers. Those guys are here and gone. Maybe one of them flipped. Let's find the scum bag who did this and get it off the books pronto. I'm counting on you."


  Bob Fowler was finished with his pep talk. Finn and Cori had passed muster and for now they were just hugging around the campfire – until the door closed.

  "Wastin' his breath, he is." Finn tossed his pen onto the desk. "This was no random act; this was a hit."

  "I don't think we should toss the old random-act-guy-gone-berserk scenario out the window, O'Brien. Not unless you've got something solid that makes it a dead end."

  "It's Rachel Gerber's boyfriend I'm finding most interesting. Almost every weekend he picked her up, so I think we can assume that's who she canceled when the children had to stay put. The sad part of this tale is that the Barnetts never met him and know nothing about him."

  "Well if that just doesn't sour my milk," Cori clucked. "What is wrong with those people?"

  "They figured if the placement agency vetted the nanny, then her friends were okay too."

  "Are they sure it was a man who picked her up?" Cori asked.

  "That's what the husband said."

  "Did you get a description?"

  "Not of him," Finn answered. "But the car was a four-door sedan. He thinks it was blue and an older model."

  "Did he ever see anyone else in the car?" Cori pressed.

  "No."

  "And there was no picture of him in Rachel's room. Nothing in her wallet. Nothing in her bedside table. Her room was clean as a whistle except for those matches and that picture you found of her. The nanny was either the most boring person in the world or there's something she didn't want the Barnetts to know about." Cori said. "Looks like I'll be adding a trip to the park to find Rachel's best nanny bud in the next few days. If anyone knows about the boyfriend, it will be her."