Act III

 Given Lily Mason’s description of the location of the Kelman’s house, Cindy expected to arrive there over an hour before she actually did. This delay only added to her nervousness.

 “Okay, Lindsay won't like this at all. Get over it and move on,” Cindy told herself. “This might be important and I'll call as soon as I find out anything.” Possibly, Lindsay wouldn't see it that way, and that might just be the reason why Cindy hadn't woken her before leaving.

 Joe Kelman, the man who, according to Lily Mason, had been Betty's lover, was around Cindy's age. He opened the door, wearing paint-flecked overalls, and had obviously been working in his atelier. He was good-looking, tall and dark-haired. It was yet to be determined if he was less of a jealous jerk than Betty's husband. When Cindy introduced herself, Kelman's expression turned into a disdainful sneer. "Did Summers send you to distract you from his own motive?"

 "I don't think Summers cares a whole lot about where I go. I talked to Lily. She mentioned you. Can I come in?"

 His features softened as he stepped back to let her into the dimly lit house. "I don't know how I can possibly help you. Betty... I just can't talk about her." His eyes were glistening with moisture, and for a startling, awful moment Cindy realized how close she had come to feeling what he was feeling now. That was if he was really being honest about his feelings toward Betty, but it was exactly what Cindy's instincts told her.

 "Come on in, Ms. Thomas. I just made some tea."

 She followed him along the hallway into the atelier. "Just have a seat; I'll go get it," he said, disappearing behind another door that seemed to be a kitchen.

 "I can help."

 "No thanks," he called from the other room. "So, what do you want to know? I'm sure Lily already told you about the nature of my relationship with Betty."

 "She did," Cindy admitted, turning around to take a look at the huge canvasses that lined the room. Most of them were covered, some showed portraits mostly in dark blues, greens and a lot of black. Kelman didn't seem like the happy type. "I'm not judging you. I was just wondering if Betty ever talked about anyone who was threatening her. I think she might have trusted you more than her husband."

 "Betty was... exceptional. I don't think she was in danger from anyone but Summers. I tried to make her leave him."

 How hard did you try? Cindy wondered. She lifted the edge of one of the covers to reveal more dark colors and depressing imagery. And then she started at the image of a naked Betty Summers, staring back at her in utter fear.

 "You were not supposed to see that!"

 She spun around to face Kelman, who was carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups. He looked more desperate than guilty, but the two could be the same.

 "I'm sorry, I--" Cindy was disturbed by what she had seen, but still thinking very clearly, she slowly walked backwards. This might be a good time to leave. "I'm sorry about it. I shouldn't have come."

 With a sigh, he set down the tray on a small table. "Never mind. Have a seat." He handed her one of the small tea cups with a wry laugh. "Don't you worry. I'm not going to poison you. Actually, I could use someone who believes me."

 "You loved Betty."

 "More than my life. Look, this is how I saw her. She was tough on the outside, but really living in fear, and she had buried it so deeply that she didn't even feel it anymore."

 Pete had thought too that the way he saw Lindsay was the only truth. His creation." Of Richard Summers?"

 He nodded.

 "He had an alibi."

 "He also had means that people like you and me wouldn't even think of. I told her she had to get away from him. Eventually she believed me, but it was too late."

 His grief seemed very real, yet Cindy took a sip of tea with some trepidation. She hated being scared, but couldn't help thinking of the poisoned piece of pastry Pete had left in her apartment. Snow White's poisoned apple. She shivered, angry at herself for letting her thoughts go there once more.

 "He's got people doing dirty work for him," Kelman said.

 "You're thinking of anyone in particular?"

 He shrugged. "Hell if I know." He was silent for a moment, and then the words seemed to just tumble out. "Why couldn't she just see that I loved her?"

 He raked a shaky hand through his hair, making his sleeve slide up; that was when Cindy saw the deep cut on his arm.

 "I'm sorry," she said. "I really have to go now."

 *******

 

Jill had dropped by for some talk, but somehow Lindsay had known from the moment she'd found Cindy's note that the night wouldn't end with that. Cindy's call confirmed her suspicion. "Please tell me I'm not hearing what I'm hearing. Cindy? How far from him are you at the moment?"

 "Halfway back home. I swear, there was no real danger at any time. As far as he's concerned, I'm just sympathetic."

 Lindsay was tempted to roll her eyes but worry won. "You come back here, right away," she said, ignoring Jill's decidedly amused expression. "Seems like we should take a closer look at Mr. Kelman, and after I do, we're going to talk about this some more."

 She hung up and pointed her index finger at Jill. "And you, don't smirk like that. No real danger! Sometimes I swear I don't know what she's thinking."

 "She'll be careful. If not for her own sake, then for yours," Jill said softly. "You two are very much alike that way."

 Somehow, the implications of her words seemed a little too much for work environment, so Lindsay brought the focus back quickly. "Right. In the meantime I'd like to take a look at the grieving ex-lover who, coincidentally, seems to have obtained some mysterious knife wound."

 Jill looked up at her in surprise. "You're not changing your mind on Summers?"

 "I won't," Lindsay said grimly. "But that means needing to eliminate every other possible suspect. After that, I plan to read the riot act to a certain crime reporter, so I trust you to keep her here."

 "Not fair, Linz, putting that on me."

 "How about you do that for me, and I'll try to convince her that you dating Inspector Hollywood isn't actually the end of the world?"

 "You drive a hard bargain," Jill sighed. "I'll do my best."

 "I know you will." Lindsay smiled. "Now, let's take a look at Romeo."

 *******

 

"It took Betty a long time to die. That was because she was defending herself – or maybe it was because the attacker was hesitating to deliver that killing blow?"

 "What does that have to do with me?" Kelman asked angrily. "I didn't kill her. I wanted to build a life with her!"

 Lindsay circled him leisurely, while Jacobi stood leaning against the wall. "Is that so, Mr. Kelman? Mr. Summers claims that his wife would have never left him."

 "Of course he's saying that! Betty and I had made plans, but she didn't dare talk about them yet. He would have freaked and taken Dina away."

 "So you were losing patience?"

 "No!" He angrily jumped up, but thought better of it a moment later, and sank back into his chair. "You want a suspect, go look at Summers. He behaved like her goddamn prison warden. Why am I here anyway? Someone setting me up, that reporter bitch, right?"

 Pride for Cindy warred with the impulse to simply slap the guy, but Lindsay had something better for him. "I'd like to know about those knife wounds on your arms, Mr. Kelman."

 He threw up his hands in frustration. "Just great. Not like you're going to believe me, but I got mugged."

 Exchanging a doubtful gaze with Jacobi, Lindsay directed her attention back to the suspect. "You reported it?"

 "No, I didn't. It was dark, I couldn't have given a description anyway, but I can tell you, I thought the guy was going to kill me."

 "Why didn't you go to the police?"

 "The next day I heard... about Betty. Then I didn't care anymore." Just like that, he started crying. It seemed a spontaneous, heartfelt reaction, yet Lindsay wanted to be sure. She hardly ever made up her mind in an investigation this early, but she was still convinced that Summers had had a hand in the death of his wife.

 "You painted her, naked and with a terror-filled expression. You really want to make us believe it was her husband she was afraid of?"

 Kelman looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. "I wanted to show her. I wanted her to see what he was turning her into, that she could only be free if she let him go. Hell, if you must know, there were times I wanted to kill him."

 "You told Ms. Thomas that you suspected him of orchestrating the murder. How do you think he managed that?"

 "I don't know!" he said, deep and believable despair in his voice and eyes.

 Lindsay sat down across from him. "Did Betty ever mention being afraid – of anyone other than Richard?" she asked softly. "Try to remember, please."

 Kelman shook his head, but all of a sudden, he froze.

 Come on, she thought. Give me a clue already.

 "There was a company doing repairs around the house. Betty thought that one of the men was watching her; she was a bit creeped out by that, but Richard said it was silly. He didn't believe her."

 "Did you know the name of the guy?" Lindsay asked, casting a quick glance to the two-way mirror as she knew Jill to be on the other side. The expensive, repetitive repairs around the Summers' house – was that where Summers had found his accomplice?

 "No, but I could possibly describe him. He once followed her nearly to my house, pretending to  be curious about the house, plans or something."

 "That's good, Mr. Kelman. Very good."

 *******

 

"Don't say it!" were Cindy's first words once Lindsay came out of the interrogation room. "Besides, I knew he wasn't the murderer."

 Lindsay's glare was more for the record than for real. "Having you go off to investigate potential murderers would be bad enough."

 Jill took a moment to enjoy the antics between the lovers, and then she said, "Be gentle with her. While you were finishing up in there, we took a look at that company and found the address and name of the owner, who'll be ecstatic to hand over an employee list to you."

 Lindsay shook her head at her friends but shared a triumphant smile. "I give up," she announced. "Let's see that address. I want Claire to take a look at those wounds, too. It's not that much of a reach to think that whoever killed Betty Summers had a beef with Kelman, too."

 *******

 

Daniel Grady, the head of the repair company, was very helpful with information, although he claimed that they conducted a thorough background check of their employees. He gave them the names of everyone that had worked on the Summers' estate.

 "Now that you mention it," he said thoughtfully as he leafed through the files. "Mr. Kingston called in sick right after the contract was fulfilled, but, of course, I'm sure that's just a coincidence," he added quickly. "You don't think...?"

 Lindsay shared a meaningful look with Jacobi and said, "We'll be sure to check that out. Thanks for your time, Mr. Grady."

 *******

 

"Mr. Kingston? San Francisco Police Department, can we talk to you?" There was no answer, but when Lindsay knocked on the door lightly, it swung open. "Mr. Kingston?"

 She walked inside the small living room cautiously, her hand on her weapon, Jacobi behind her. Maybe she was paranoid about Richard Summers, but it didn't seem so far off to think he'd get rid of unwelcome witnesses. The financial records were rather vague and not proof enough; if Summers had paid Kingston for the murder of his wife, then the man was the only one who could confirm that suspicion.

 The house appeared to be empty, but there were no signs of a hurried departure. Kingston obviously still felt safe in his home. Nothing seemed disturbed either. In the kitchen, she found a block with several knifes, each slot filled with the proper sized knife. Lindsay chuckled to herself; that would have been too easy.  While Jacobi finished their search on the upper floor, she found a door that led to the backyard and in the back corner, she found a building that looked like a garden shed from the outside. It wasn't locked.

 At the sight of the shed's interior, Lindsay's jaw nearly dropped. The kitchen knife forgotten, she remembered Claire's early theory. She'd hit paydirt.

 Along the wall of the shed, several swords were lined up, like a prized collection. "I bet you don't cut your grass with those," she said aloud, feeling the presence of another person a split-second before he grabbed her.

 Kingston – or perhaps someone who'd found him first. Instinctively, her hands went up to try and pry the attacker away from her neck, not surprisingly to no avail. She kicked his shins and feet as hard as she could and her aim was true, satisfied when she heard a yelp of pain. The vice around her neck loosened, but only for a moment. Damn, but the guy was strong.

 Somewhere distantly in her mind, it struck her as curious that the killing of Betty Summers had taken him such a long time, but then again, maybe the fact that she'd known her child was in the house had given her the strength to ward him off as long as she had.

 Add to that the fact that this was no moment to deal with theories.

 He pushed her hard enough to make her stumble over some garden tools, and then she heard his footsteps pounding across the concrete floor. Jacobi came in from the other side. “Go,” she urged. “I'm okay!” Lindsay dragged herself up and followed after him.

 It had started raining, so in addition to getting beaten up, she was going to get soaked, but hell if she was letting him get away. Lindsay had more than a few questions for him, and if Kingston really was a cold-blooded killer, why would he run?

 The suspect ran across the backyard of a neighboring house and across the street, while Lindsay followed, nearly slipping on the slick grass. Jacobi had started to gain on him when headlights appeared out of nowhere, and then there was only a sickening crunch of metal and bone.

 The driver jumped out of his car. He was in his mid-forties, and rambled, "I swear I didn't see him!"

 "I know." It came out as a near gasp, as she was still trying to catch her breath.

 "Is he...?" The man shuddered, and Lindsay couldn't blame him. It wasn't a pretty sight.

 "I'm afraid so," she said.

 *******

 

Jill got out of her car and practically jogged over to where Lindsay and Jacobi stood talking to the driver who'd hit Kingston.

 The man was clearly in shock, which Jill could sympathize with after taking one look at the body. The driver never had a chance to stop; he'd hit Kingston full on. When the paramedics took him into the ambulance, Lindsay turned to her, frustration and a hint of defeat in her expression.

 "There goes our only chance at proving that Summers paid him," she said tiredly.

 Taking in her friends' appearance, the soaked clothes and the smudges around her throat, Jill winced. "You don't know that. There might be proof at his house."

 "Other than a collection of swords?" Lindsay grimaced, her hand going to her throat. "He couldn't make this nice and easy, could he?"

 Jill gave her a sympathetic smile, reaching up to brush her fingers over the bruised skin. "Doesn't look that way."

 "Hey!" Cindy appeared, as usual pretty much out of nowhere and ready to take over the TLC. "I came as soon as I heard... is it really Kingston?"

 "Needs a little imagination but yes, it's him," Claire confirmed dryly.

 "If only I'd caught him sooner--" Lindsay coughed. "Damn it." Cindy gave her a worried sideways glance, but didn't say anything. "So I guess we'll go over the house, storage shed and surroundings with a fine-tooth comb and see if anything turns up."

 It was going to be another long night.

 *******

 

Kingston had assembled quite an impressive collection of swords, so it would take awhile to test them all for DNA. Also, he seemed to have been a messy bookkeeper, because bills, receipts and other documents lay in heaps on top of his desk and inside various drawers.

 "Why don't we go home?" Claire suggested when, hours later, none of them seemed to be able to think straight. "I'll light a fire under the lab techs first thing in the morning, and we'll at least be the wiser if he used any of those weapons. Some of them looked like they could match the wounds... and possibly the cuts on Kelman too."

 "Yeah." Lindsay sighed. "Why couldn't he just keep the bill in a folder labeled 'murdering services rendered'?"

 "Because that would be too easy?" Jill returned, picking up a piece of paper from the corner of Kelman's desk. "Confirming a flight from Thailand? That's quite a vacation on a handyman's salary."

 They looked at each other, the idea to quit for the day suddenly forgotten.

 "Thailand," Cindy said. "That was where Summers flew in from on the day Betty was killed. His alibi."

 "I'm going to check with the company. I want to know if Kingston ever got on that plane. We need to find something more to tie him to Summers!"

 "Something like this?" Jill asked, holding up the copy of an ID. The man in the picture was clearly Kingston, but all the other pertinent information belonged to Richard Summers. It seemed like a very good place to start.

******

 

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