Page 94

CHAPTER 92

CINDY TOLD JOANN how sorry she was, and the grieving woman shook off some of her sadness and brought a printed photo album back to the table. Cindy noted the happy faces and playfulness of this family—including a photo of Brett and Victor playing a paddleball game on the beach.

Cindy said, “Can we talk a little more about Brett? When did you start to feel suspicious of him?”

Joann sighed. “The first time Angela called me after a fight, she was sobbing hard. I thought, Well, that happens with newlyweds. I was rationalizing. But I felt there was something sick going on when Brett brought his stepbrother, Nate Miller, to have dinner with us. Nate didn’t converse. He made cracks. We were all uncomfortable.

“After Nate left that night, Brett told us a lot of awful stuff about his stepbrother. He said that Nate was perpetually angry. That he killed small animals for fun when he was a boy. That he had been in the military, and after that, his anger could get out of control. Brett said than Nate could be violent. A trait that I think Brett and Nate shared.

“After Angela died … I blamed Brett. I didn’t see how Nate could have gotten close enough to Angela to do that to her. I even thought that Brett had told us about Nate to throw suspicion onto the violent brother. But my gut still believed it was Brett. Both of them had alibis, and that left me with ambivalence and doubt.”

Then Joann said, “I have something for you. Hang on.”

She got up from the table, went to the kitchen, opened a drawer, and when she returned, she was holding a small, handheld digital recorder.

Joann sat down again and passed the recorder to Cindy.

She said, “Picture this. A week or so after Angie’s funeral, Brett came to the house to see us. He had a lot of bags and cases with him. He was going to London to see a client. He sat in Victor’s chair and unloaded his briefcase and computer case and carry-on bag. After his visit, maybe six hours later, he called from the airport, to ask if he’d left his voice recorder here. I looked around and said, ‘No.’ Months later, when I was doing a real clean, I found it way under Victor’s lounge chair. I didn’t call Brett.

“I thought about listening to the recording, but then I didn’t want to hear his voice. I thought maybe some other time, when I felt stronger. I kept it in the junk drawer. And then, when I was tidying up ahead of your visit, I thought about that mini recorder. Here. You take this. Just … tell me what you find on it, okay?”

“Really? Great. Thank you.”

“And if you don’t mind, Cindy, may I see you out? I’m all stirred up and I need to take a nap.”

“Of course, Joann. I’ll call you after I do some research.”

“That’s fine. Oh, Cindy, one more thing. Nate Miller lives in San Francisco.”

Cindy’s mind put on the brakes. Nate lived in San Francisco? Joann said he was abusive and a trained fighter and maybe he was crazy. Brett or Nate could have killed Angela. But one thing really bothered Cindy about that theory.

How could either stepbrother have had a murderous hate on for Warren Jacobi?