Ginny Page 3

  “You can’t repeat this to anyone, promise?”

  “I’m sworn to secrecy, OK?” holding her hands.

  Ginny hesitated, and then composed herself, saying, “I stabbed him.”

  Reid took her into his arms, offering his handkerchief, “Oh my God, what happened and when?”

  “I’ll get to the what, soon,” she sniffled, accepting the affectionate gesture. “It was about twelve years ago.”

  “Ginny, you were just a kid then.”

  “I was eighteen.”

  “If this is too painful …” he began.

  “No,” she interrupted. “I want you to hear it. The man was stalking me.”

  “Why?”

  “He killed my husband … Jason.”

  “You must have married very young,” Reid said.

  “Reid, I’ll never finish, if you keep interrupting me. You and I were partners for two years, and yet we know so little about each other.”

  He said, “It was nineteen months, but who’s countin’?”

  “That’s the thing I hate about you,” she sighed, “nitpicker.”

  “Point well taken—it won’t happen again.”

  “I’ll start from the beginning. Jason and I met in high school when we were about fifteen. He chased off a couple of annoying girls that were giving me some shit, calling me names, et cetera. I was thrilled that a popular boy would take an interest in skinny little me. He played basketball, you know. Anyway, we became an instant couple, staying together until …” Emotion overcame her. She turned away.

  Reid gave her a quizzical look, “Until what?”

  “I was three months pregnant. We had just graduated from high school, got married at City Hall in downtown Los Angeles. We were in Venice on our honeymoon, strolling down the boardwalk, when this guy grabbed my shoulder bag …”

  “The stalker?”

  “Yes, but the stalking came later. Jason had stopped to get ice cream. I was standing near him when it happened, but I would not give up the bag. The creep knocked me over, but I did not let go. He dragged me along the ground on my belly, and finally, he pulled my bag away from me. Jason chased after him. Um … there was a struggle. The bastard knifed Jason and he died right there on the walkway.”

  Reid pulled her close. “Now, now, maybe you should …”

  “No … it’s OK, I need to keep going. Everything happened so fast. I didn’t realize that my head was bleeding from the fall to the sidewalk. When I reached Jason—he lay doubled up on the ground. I rolled him over, but he did not say a word. He was dead …

  “Later in the hospital, my father-in-law and a female police officer were at my side. I knew by the expressions on their faces that the news was not good …”

  Ginny blew her nose, and took a deep breath. “Sorry,” she said.

  “Want to take a break?”

  Ginny took another deep breath. “No. I will keep going. Jason’s death took a while to sink in. Frank, there were more pressing issues that needed immediate attention. They had given me several stitches for the bump on my head. I felt sick to my stomach; I began to hemorrhage. They rushed me into surgery.”

  “Miscarriage?” Frank questioned.

  “Yes, I lost the baby, and there were complications … leaving me sterile.” She began to sob.

  Reid held her against him, stroking her hair. “A very difficult time for you …”

  “If it hadn’t been for Cindy, the policewoman, and my father-in-law, Mr. Graves, I don’t know what I would have done,” she said, then took a deep breath.

  “Cindy … where does she fit into this?” Reid asked.

  “She was the first officer on the scene. She tried to comfort me, but I was so out of it, I didn’t remember much. She came to the hospital when she finished her shift. She said it was bad policy to get personally involved, but she just couldn’t abandon me in my time of need.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “My father, the renowned Milton Katz, left when I was three. I never saw him again. My mom was an alcoholic; she never made it to the hospital.”

  He said, “Ginny, you poor thing.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me. It was a long time ago.”

  “Apparently not long enough …” he said.

  “I’m almost finished. I got out of the hospital several days later; then we had Jason’s funeral. It was tough, but with Cindy’s help, I managed to get back to normal. That’s when the stalking began. I called the police the first couple of times when I spotted him in my neighborhood, but the cops couldn’t find him. My father-in-law came by often and so did Cindy. They kept me going. I went back to work, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was so frightened by this guy that I couldn’t keep my mind clear. Then, one night after work, about nine o’clock, as I arrived at my apartment, I spotted him again, standing near my door. My first thought was to run, but I was so angry, he’d killed my husband and baby. Um … I walked past him, opened the door and went directly into the kitchen, picked up a carving knife and waited.

  “He followed soon after, and when he entered the kitchen, I struck fast. I drove the blade into him with all my strength. He slumped to the floor, then silence; he was dead. It was a mess, blood everywhere.”

  “Ginny, do you need something to drink?”

  “I’ll be OK. I called Cindy; she wasn’t home, so I left a message. I called Mr. Graves and he came right over. Um … took him about thirty minutes to drive from the Valley, and by then Cindy had called back, said she’d be over soon. The two of them concluded—they should get rid of the body and never mention the event again. I was hysterical. I told them I waited for him, stabbed him, and that it was the most satisfying feeling I ever had, that I was glad that the sucker was dead.”

  “Satisfying?”

  “Yes. Don’t let anyone tell you that revenge is not sweet.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that,” he said.

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “I’m surprised that a member of the force would get rid of a body, but then again, there’s lots of rogue cops like you and me,” Reid said.

  “It’s a little more complicated than that. I talked about killing him if I ever had a chance. I guess I said that to too many people. Nobody believed I could be capable of such a deed. But, now, at least two people knew.”

  “They thought you’d be charged with murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, how did they manage it?” Reid questioned.

  “There was an argument between them. Cindy wanted to call it in, but Mr. Graves was against that. He’d lost his only son and grandchild. He wanted revenge, so they just took care of everything. I don’t know what they did with the body, but they assured me that it would never be found. Told me not to ever mention this. They cleaned up the apartment, too.”

  “Do you hear from either of them now?” he asked.

  “Mr. Graves died several years ago. Cindy retired from the force and left for Colorado. I get a Christmas card every year.”

  “So you guys lucked out, no police inquiries?”

  “I got a call, couple years ago from a detective working on cold cases, and I brushed him off, in a good way.”

  “Ha. I bet you did,” he said, hugging her.

  “Now, it’s your turn.”

  “Not so fast. You didn’t tell me how or why you joined L.A.’s finest.”

  “Cindy talked me into it. When I graduated from Los Angeles City College, she had me sign up for the academy. The rest is history.”

  “What was her last name?” Reid quizzed her.

  “I’ll never tell.”

  “You’ve left me with more questions than answers. Tell me more about Mr. Graves, what did he do for a living, et cetera?” Reid asked.

  “If our relationship lasts more than this day, then I’ll fill in the blanks.”

  “Well, I’m already starting to piece details together in my head, so … “


  “OK, OK … he was a Marine—Vietnam veteran—and owned a construction business,” she answered.

  “Uh … explains why he …”

  “Let it go, Reid. You might be turning wheels in your head, but you’re not working a case here.”

  “Eventually, you’ll tell me everything?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Good.”

  “Let’s get back to you, Reid. Now, why didn’t you call me over the last six months?”

  He tightened his hold on her and whispered, “I picked up the phone at least a hundred times, but felt that you were still angry, so I waited for you to call me. And, by the way, I was so happy to hear your voice yesterday.”

  “You didn’t sound happy. Anyway, I was as mad as hell with you,” she said, pressing her face against his chest. “You pinched me so hard that last day at the station, leaving a telltale sign. One of the girls at the gym spotted my bruised behind in the shower and called me ‘purple butt’ for a month afterward.”

  “I got carried away. After all, you do have a nice butt …”

  “Reid …”

  “You quit the department because you were upset with me?” he asked.

  “Men, they don’t have a clue,” she laughed. “I quit because I was fed up with all the crap you guys were giving me, and grabbing me like that was the last straw.”

  “I promise, I’ll never grab you again,” he said, reaching over to pat her hip. “But you have to promise not to hit me.”

  Ginny pulled away, looking at him. A wide smile replaced her saddened look. “We’ll see. Now, I’m going to work out for half an hour, then we’ll discuss your history. Pillow talk, so to speak.”

  “Now that’s my Ginny, back to her old self.”

  “Old?”

  Reid smiled, “normal self.”

  Ginny stood, smoothed out her robe, did a wiggling gesture and said, “If you want this, then you’ll have get rid of that.” She touched his unshaven face.

  “I was thinking of growing a beard.”

  “If that’s the case, then you can pack your bag and leave now,” she said.

  “Touché. You have a razor that I can use?”

  “Lady Schick. It’s in the bathroom,” Ginny replied.

  John Wong’s wife, Anna, found her husband behind The Donut Guy, their Fountain Avenue donut shop at 5:30 a.m. Sunday, covered in bruises and welts. His naked body blocked the door.

  “John! John!” she cried, as she cradled him in her arms.

  “Epstein …” he murmured, barely audible.

  “Ginny,” Reid called in a loud voice. “Come here.”

  She appeared in the doorway, “What’s up?”

  Reid was on the couch, leaning forward with his eyes glued to the TV. “Someone shot up Epstein’s restaurant.”

  She moved to his side and sat down. “No!”

  “He’s alive. They just put him in an ambulance,” Reid said.

  “The place is on fire. See all the smoke!” Ginny exclaimed, watching the screen as the helicopter view expanded.

  “Are we in deep shit, Ginny?”

  “Nobody knows we were there yesterday,” Ginny said in a not-so-reassuring way.

  “I warned you about Epstein.”

  “I think it’s a little late for warnings, but let’s see how this plays out.”

  “The fire seems to be in the rear of the building,” Reid said.

  “I hope Epstein’s computer goes up in smoke,” Ginny said.

  “You’re sending him love notes,” Reid joked.

  “I e-mailed him photos this morning of a case we’re working on,”

  “Shit! What did you say?”

  “Nothing—just sent photos.” Ginny said.

  “I hope this doesn’t come back to haunt us.”

  “Look, they’re taking someone into custody,” Ginny said, ignoring his remark.

  “I wish they’d move the camera closer. Uh … I think it’s a woman,” Reid said.

  “Turn up the sound.”

  The commentator, a pretty, young woman with dark hair, was summarizing. “We’re waiting for Captain Janus of the Sheriff’s department to join us. Meanwhile, this is what we have now. A woman, in her early thirties, entered Harry’s Deli about twenty minutes ago, carrying a large caliber pistol. According to witnesses, she allegedly shot the host. We don’t have his name or condition yet. She then proceeded to the rear of the restaurant, firing several more shots as diners dove for cover, according to one witness on the scene. The news is sketchy now, but apparently a fire started in the rear of the building. It could have been much worse, as an off-duty police officer tackled the gun-toting woman, who’s been taken into custody. The owner, Harry Epstein, was also hit. He left in an ambulance minutes ago. We don’t have an update on his condition. The fire department seems to have the blaze under control.”

  They watched the news for about an hour when the phone rang.

  “I’ll get that,” Ginny said, going to her bag for the ringing cell phone. “Hello.”

  “Miss Graves?”

  “Yes,” Ginny said.

  “Hi, I’m Izzy Gufman, you remember me from Friday night?”

  “Refresh my memory,” Ginny said.

  “At Epstein’s place, he told me to call you,” Gufman said.

  “And?”

  “He wants us to pick up Blagoian right now,” Izzy said. “I could come to you.”

  “What’s the latest on Mr. Epstein?”

  “He’s OK.”

  “I’m watching the news about the shooting,” Ginny said.

  “He wants us to get this situation with Blagoian done.”

  “Where are you now? We’ll meet,” Ginny said.

  “OK, the entrance to Rosewood Park, corner of—”

  “I’ll be there soon, give me twenty minutes,” Ginny said and hung up.

  “What was that all about?” Reid asked.

  “Later,” Ginny said.

  “Who’s Blagoian?” Reid asked. “I overheard part of your conversation.”

  “Eavesdropping? I have to go,” she said, rushing to the bedroom.

  “Just like that,” Reid said, following her.

  “I haven’t time,” she said, opening the closet door.

  “I was planning—” he began.

  “Afternoon delight—I know.”

  “It’s still morning,” he corrected her.

  “You promised no more of that shit, Reid.”

  Ginny stripped out of her workout T-shirt and shorts, heading for the bathroom, with Reid close behind. She turned on the tap in the sink, saying, “Don’t just stand there—help me wash up.”

  He soaped up a facecloth and turned to her. “Front or back?”

  “I’m in a hurry, got to meet a client,” she said, turning her back to him.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Rosewood Park—you can drop me off, OK?”

  “To protest would be fruitless, I suppose?” he asked, applying the wet cloth to her shoulder.

  “Now you’re getting the picture.”

  In the car on their way to the park, Reid asked, “Ginny, I don’t get it. One moment you’re crying your eyes out, telling secrets you’ve held onto forever, then you’re all bubbly and bold, ready to take off to who knows where.”

  “Get used to it. My business calls.”

  “I feel like a piece of used furniture,” Reid said.

  “You’ll be duly rewarded later, Lover boy.”

  “Sure,” he said, pointing. “The park is on the left.”

  “There’s a man over on the sidewalk. I’ll get out here,” Ginny said.

  “It’s Izzy Gufman, one of Epstein’s boys. Go figure. He’s a lady’s man, better watch your step,” Reid advised.

  “If I can handle you, I can handle anyone. Now be a big boy and find out all you can about Epstein’s debacle,” she said with a smile.
She leaned over and gave him a kiss goodbye.

  Reid said, “Call me,” Then he pulled away, leaving Ginny on the curb.

  Ginny crossed the street, waving at Gufman and extending a hand as she reached him. “Izzy,” she said.

  “Charlie will be along in a minute,” he said, accepting her hand.

  “What’s the plan?” Ginny asked.

  “You show us where Blagoian is and we’ll take it from there.”

  She asked, “And what about me?”

  “You’ll be leaving us and headed back to L.A. in the comfort of a taxi,” he replied.

  “I don’t like taxis,” she said.

  “OK, we’ll drop you at the bus station.”

  Charlie pulled up next to them, driving Benny Gould’s car. Izzy opened the rear door and said, “We’ll ride in the back.”

  “I’d prefer the front,” Ginny protested, but climbed into the back seat.

  “Comfy?” Izzy asked.

  “Isn’t this Benny’s car?” Ginny asked.

  “What’s the best way to get to Oxnard?” Charlie asked as he pulled away from the curb.

  “Take the 405 north to the 101, and then west to Oxnard. Should take about an hour,” Ginny said.

  “Benny,” Ginny began.

  “Mr. Epstein wants us to remain silent on Benny. He said to give you this,” Izzy said, handing her several bills.

  “How is Mr. Epstein doing?” Ginny asked, tucking the money into her jacket pocket.

  “He’s fine.”

  “I saw the news this morning. Didn’t he get shot?” Ginny asked.

  “Yeah, but it’s only a nick. He said, ‘Call Ginny and give her a couple hundred to take us to Blagoian.”’

  “It’s not my regular fee,” Ginny said wrinkling her nose.

  “He’ll take care of you later. Now, let’s discuss this assignment,” Izzy said, laying his hand on her knee.

  Ginny looked down, then said, “Would you be so kind as to move your hand.”

  “Not too friendly, I see,” the smirking Izzy said.

  “We’re not on a date, Mr. Gufman.”

  “That can be arranged,” he smiled.

  “When hell freezes over, when pigs can fl—”

  “I get it,” he sighed.