The Christine Murders Read online

  She had been a flight attendant with International World Airlines for fifteen years. As each year’s anniversary rolled around, she would marvel that she had kept the job as long as she had. She had thought at first that she might fly for two or three years at most and then move on to something else, marriage most likely. But she enjoyed her work, and each year she had decided to stay on one more year, until finally she had stopped counting and realized that flying had become her career and the world her place of business.

  And considering the men she’d met and become involved with over the years, it was a good thing she’d decided to put marriage on perpetual hold. For an intelligent and attractive woman, she’d certainly met her share of losers, as had so many other women she knew. She had no answer why. There simply had never been the one man she could look at and say truthfully, yes, you are the one meant for me.

  Aside from work, the only constant in her life had been Bill Arnett. They’d met during flight training in Miami and become close friends, sharing an apartment together when they’d taken their first assignments in New York. Eight years ago, they had applied together for a transfer to San Francisco. Both had met people they felt might lead to a permanent relationship, so they had opted for separate apartments. Those relationships had failed for both of them, but instead they had fallen in love with San Francisco. The move had proven to be a wise choice. Life in their new city suited both of them very well, even if both had been unlucky in love.

  ***

  The sun had set and the apartment had filled with shadows before Christine got up to make a second cup of tea. As she waited for the water to boil, her cell phone rang.

  “Hello Bill,” she called, reaching over to shut off the burner.

  “Hi, Christy, hope I didn’t disturb you. Were you in bed yet?”

  “No, not yet. Still unwinding, just relaxing here.”

  “Same here. That was a bit of a rough trip today. I thought we’d never be able to stand up long enough to get anything finished. Right now I’m sitting here sipping a drink and thinking about what else I could do with my life besides running meals and drinks to groups of rude crazy people who then complain to you about delays and their lost luggage. There has to be more to life, don’t you think so.”

  Christine laughed. “Come on, Bill, you know you love it, and where else would we have had a job like this? Look at the places we’ve been to. Look at the experiences. Yes, it’s tough at times and some people are horrible, but look at the good side.” This was familiar ground they had both been over before.

  “Aren’t we supposed to meet and marry some rich man? I’m serious, Christy. Actually, any man would do these days, you know. Just have a job and a car that runs and clean clothing.”

  Christine laughed out loud. “Bill, don’t start, please.”

  “Which one? The job, the car, or the clean clothes? All right, I won’t, not now at least. I’m just lonely. But I’ll let you get back to your scotch or whatever you are unwinding with.”

  “Tea and a hot bath tonight, dear one.”

  “One of those nights, huh? Okay, sounds good. But, say, how about a drive tomorrow? Maybe a few hours in Carmel? Remember we wanted to check out that other gallery we couldn’t get into last time? What about it? If we leave early enough this time around we should have plenty of hours there to browse. I’m still thinking about those sculptures I fell in love with.”

  “Sounds delightful,” Christine told him. “I didn’t have anything else planned.”

  “Not even Ted MacIntyre, San Francisco’s most eligible rich bachelor?”

  Christine groaned. “Especially not Ted MacIntyre.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Bill replied. “Don’t tell me Ted’s finally on his way to the discard pile.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” Christine sighed. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

  “All right. Sounds good. Shall I pick you up about nine? Is that okay?”

  “Yes, perfect.”

  “Then get back to the hot tea and the tub. Kiss fat Tommy for me.”

  “Good night, Bill.” What would she do without him? The two of them helped and relied on each other constantly, each serving as an anchor for the other. Tomorrow would be enjoyable. But right now, that hot bath was the most appealing thing in the world to Christine.

  ***

  Across the city, at a desk in a large and elegant apartment with a spectacular sweeping view of San Francisco Bay, Luther Ross-Wilkerson scrolled through a Google listing for International World Airlines in San Francisco, stopping when he found Flight Services. Well, yes, that might be what he wanted. He jotted down the phone number and reached for his cell phone, tapping a pen impatiently against the surface of the desk while he waited for an answer to his call.

  “Flight Services, Susan Carlatti speaking. May I help you?”

  Well, he hoped so. This was the only way he could think of to get things moving.

  He was excited, euphoric even, but nervous. He took a few deep breaths before speaking. The first step of his plan had begun.

  CHAPTER THREE

  TUESDAY - OCTOBER 4th

  “Chris, you’re here early today.” Christine, reporting for a flight to Honolulu, waved greetings to the IWA flight schedulers before heading to the crew lounge to await briefing.

  “I’ll do anything to beat rush-hour traffic, even if it means sitting here an extra hour.”

  Inside the crew lounge, Christine emptied her mailbox, grabbed a cup of coffee, and made herself comfortable. Her flight was the first scheduled out this evening, and she was the first attendant to arrive.

  She scanned the assorted manual updates and company bulletins that made up her usual airline mail and was sliding the papers into her tote bag when a small pink slip fell out from the stack and fluttered to the floor. Christine bent to pick up the sheet; it was a telephone message note, dated September 30th.

  ‘Please call Mr. Wilkerson, at 415-734-8989 – Urgent!’ That was all. No company name, no message. Just urgent. The note was initialed by one of the secretaries in the flight supervisors’ office.

  Mr. Wilkerson. Who was Mr. Wilkerson? Christine ran through a mental list of acquaintances and former boyfriends, trying to place the name since it did sound familiar, but without luck. The secretarial staff was still working, so she decided to see if the person who had taken the message could tell her anything more.

  She found the woman she was looking for at her desk, just preparing to leave for the day.

  “Susan? One quick question before you go.”

  Susan Carlatti looked up and smiled. “Oh, hi Chris, how’re you doing? What can I help you with?”

  Christine handed her the message slip. “You took this call?”

  Susan read the note quickly and nodded. “Yes, I did, I remember it. I was working late that night, the only one here at the time. Why?”

  “It was for me? I mean, are you sure he asked for me?”

  Susan nodded. “Oh yes, I remember this one well. He kept repeating your name, and I said, yes, she works for us and I’ll see she gets your message.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “Not much else. Only that he needed to talk to you and didn’t know any other way to reach you. So he had decided to call here. He said he knew you – yes, I do recall he told me that. Then he just asked again that I make sure to give you this message. He also said something about not having your home number, and of course I told him we do not give out any employee’s number, to anyone. I reassured him that I would leave the message here for you and you would pick it up with your crew mail. Then he asked me to mark down that it was urgent.” Susan looked at Chris, concerned. “Why, Chris, is something wrong? Who is this man?”

  Chris shook her head and shrugged. “Well no, I don’t think anything is wrong. I just don’t know who he is, that’s all. And an urgent message is strange. I guess I’m just curious.”

  Susan nodded agreem
ent. “Yes, well, maybe he’s got something to do with the airline, although he didn’t say so and I never heard his name before.”

  “More than likely he wants to sell me something.” Christine walked back toward the door. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll call him when I get back home and find out what he wants. Thank you, Susan, I appreciate the information.”

  Susan switched off her computer and locked her desk. “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful, Chris. By the way, where are you going tonight, Honolulu or all the way to Manila?”

  “Honolulu, where it will be nice and warm. Beach weather!”

  “Ah, what a life! You’ve got it made, Girl.”

  “I totally agree, although believe me, there are days when I have to remind myself. But they don’t come too often. Good night, Susan, see you when I get back.”

  She folded the message and slipped it into her purse. Mr. Wilkerson. Somehow, that name still seemed faintly familiar, tickling her mind in some way, but right now she was not going to worry about it anymore.

  Whoever he was and whatever he wanted, he would have to wait until she returned from her trip. There was no point in trying him now; briefing would be starting in a few more minutes. Christine was sure Mr. Wilkerson didn’t have anything too urgent or important to tell her in any case.

  She stood in front of a mirror in the lounge as she greeted fellow crew members, making a last minute check before briefing. Her blue and gold uniform and white blouse were crisp and neat, her little hat positioned perfectly atop her head, her gold wings affixed to her jacket, and shoes polished to a shine. She was ready again to fly!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  OCTOBER 4th – 11:15 P.M.

  Kelley Grant finished work at the Westin St. Francis Hotel on Union Square and left for her nightly walk home along Geary Street. As usual, she was hungry but not looking forward to cooking when she got home. The last thing she could hope for would be that Gary would have anything prepared for her. No, he’d be sitting glued to the TV set. She would be lucky if she got a grunt of hello when she came in.

  He had been so different when she’d met him. Just out of college, good-looking and personable, he’d been full of great ideas about his future life. Soon, it became their lives together, and she had married him three years ago. Within a year, he had promised, they would be out of their cramped studio apartment in the shabby building near Van Ness; they would be living in their own home in the suburbs. She would be able to give up her job as receptionist at the St. Francis, and they would start a family.

  But three years later, they were exactly where they had started out. With one exception. Gary didn’t work anymore. Each job he had taken had presented a personality conflict for him, which meant, Kelley soon realized, that he couldn’t get along with anyone else he had to work with. So he would leave and go to another job, then another, and finally another. His erratic work history and his volunteered explanations that he had problems with people soon guaranteed no further job offers, so eventually he’d simply stopped looking. Now he claimed to be trying to find himself, his method involving spending day after day and night after night watching one rental film after another. Kelley marveled that there could be so many movies available in the shops he frequented when he did go out to replenish his stock. Sometimes she wondered if he just watched the same ones over and over again. She didn’t know, nor did she care anymore. She paid for the rentals, as she paid for everything else.

  Kelley knew there was something seriously wrong with her husband. She knew he needed help. But sadly, she no longer cared. She enjoyed her job at the St. Francis and the elegant world it allowed her to touch, if only superficially. Egged on by her friends at the hotel, she had started to accept the fact that she was young and bright and still incredibly pretty. She had noticed the stares and laughed off some of the suggestions from the classy businessmen she’d checked into the hotel, realizing finally that her looks were still an asset. Tall, blonde, and slender, undoubtedly there were plenty of men who were quite willing to touch her sleek body, as Gary no longer cared to do.

  She had almost made up her mind to leave him. If she could support the two of them on her salary, she could certainly far better support herself alone. And she had made good friends at the hotel who had offered her a place to stay until she could find an apartment of her own. Single again, she would be able to accept offers of dinner or drinks from some of the men she met at work. Who knew what could develop for her? She didn’t know what Gary would do. Maybe he could find some other sucker to pay for his endless stream of movies while he continued to search for himself.

  She passed by an all-night deli in the theatre district, a place she often visited on her way home for a sandwich or salad. Tonight, looking at the roasting turkeys and prime ribs turning on the spits in the window, she decided to buy some sliced meat and a sandwich to take home with her.

  The deli was crowded; most of the shows were just getting out now, and Kelley took a number and waited her turn in line. She purchased more food than she had planned to, and found that her package was larger and more unwieldy than it usually was. With the sizable purse she always carried as well, she could see she wasn’t going to have an easy time during the rest of her walk home.

  As she reached the door, a tall and attractive man came from behind her. Smiling, he pulled the door open with a flourish. “After you, my dear. You look as if you could use a little help.”

  Kelley was immediately aware of the delightful scent he wore and how well he was dressed. And he had the most gorgeous blue eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “I think I over-bought. I should not come in here when I’m this hungry.”

  He laughed. “Yes, I agree.” Kelley saw him looking at her uniform jacket. “Just getting off work are you? Here, let me help you carry that package to your car.” He was slightly taller than Kelley, and spoke with a delightful British accent.

  “Yes, I am – oh, thank you,” she stammered. “But, I don’t have a car, you see I live only a few blocks from here, near Van Ness, if you know where that is. I walk home from work.”

  He appeared concerned. “Yes, indeed, I do know where Van Ness is. Well, in that case, would you allow me to give you a ride home? It is quite late, and quite dark farther along here. I’m afraid you’re going to have trouble balancing all this, and I would hate to think of anything happening to you.” He smiled again, such a beautiful smile. Then he pointed to a gorgeous BMW parked next to the curb just a few feet away. “Please, I’m parked right here. I would feel better. I don’t like to think of you walking all alone at this hour.”

  Kelley was very aware of the scent of his cologne again. What was it? Something expensive, no doubt. He reminded her of the men she met at the hotel. She had never accepted a ride from any stranger before, but she was so tired tonight. And she was carrying a very heavy package. And, just maybe, this guy was somebody worth knowing. If she were indeed planning to go it alone soon, she would need to meet men. Men with class and the money that went with it. She didn’t intend to stay alone forever.

  She made up her mind quickly. “All right. I’d love a ride home tonight. And it isn’t very far. Just go straight up Geary and cross Van Ness.”

  He had opened the car door and was helping Kelley into the front seat. Then he arranged her package on the floor near her feet. “Just show me along the way, Christine,” he said. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. What a coincidence!”

  He closed the door and came around to the driver’s side, got in, and started the car, while Kelley regarded him strangely. This was just great. Already she was off to a bad start; this guy thought she was someone else.

  She spoke up, although uncertainly. “My name isn’t Christine. It’s Kelley. Kelley Grant. Were you here waiting for someone else?”

  He looked over at her, a confused expression on his face now. Who was this woman? “Yes, my dear, I’ve been waiting for someone, for years.” He looked at her more closely. Oh, dear! No, indeed, he had m
ade a mistake, she was not his Christine. So the question was, what was he to do with her now?

  Kelley, frightened by the odd look in his eyes, made a movement to open the door, but he was too fast for her. The voices were telling him what to do. “Please don’t try that again. It’s locked, dear. I’m sorry, but you can’t get away now.” Luther started the car and pulled quickly away from the curb and into the night.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  FRIDAY - OCTOBER 7th

  Christine read the headline on the morning’s paper: “NO LEADS IN MURDER OF HOTEL CLERK”. Beneath the heading was a picture of the murder victim, Kelley Grant, a pretty young woman with blonde hair.

  Christine frowned and skimmed through the story. She had heard about this on the news last night, after she had returned home. It had happened on the night of her last flight. She loved city living but hated reading things like this.

  She put the paper aside, saying a silent prayer for this poor girl and wondering about the family she left behind.

  ***

  Lieutenant John Patrick Kinsella swallowed a handful of tablets from one of several partially filled bottles gracing his desk and wondered if anyone had ever died of indigestion. Indigestion coupled with extreme frustration more likely. Of the two, he was growing more convinced that it would eventually be frustration that would get him first.

  He thought about Kelley Grant again. The last thing John Kinsella wanted or needed now was another murder dumped in his lap. Overworked and short-staffed as it was, he had balked when the Chief had assigned him the investigation of the Grant killing, even though he knew it would do him absolutely no good to complain. So he had done as he was told, pulling together a small team of six already overburdened officers who would attempt to find an answer for another senseless killing in the city. So far, after two and one-half days of tracing the dead woman’s final hours, John was exactly where he had started. Not one single lead had presented itself.