Trouble in Paradise - [8]
“Oh my God!” Erica lunged for it. “That’s Tammy Susie’s phone!”
I held her back. “It might have prints. Let me do it.” I gingerly picked it up without touching the front or back. Now we knew why she hadn’t called. But the discovery was almost as puzzling as it was alarming. “Why would the kidnapper let her keep the phone this long? Why not take it from her right away?”
“Maybe the kidnapper was the one who dropped it,” Bailey said. She carefully took it from me and used a pen to scroll through the recent calls. “Nothing in or out since this morning.”
Toni voiced my thought. “Regardless of who dropped the thing, it’s pretty amateurish.”
I was about to say that, given the low crime rates, most criminals around here probably were amateurs, but at that moment, I noticed a sign across the street advertising MADAM JUNAIDA, PREMIER FORTUNE-TELLER.
“Didn’t you say Tammy Susie was about to do a show where the whole family visits a fortune-teller?” I pointed to the sign.
Erica shook her head. “That’s not the one they were going to use for the show.” But she was more than happy to grasp at any straw, no matter how slim, if it meant delaying our return to the hotel without Tammy Susie.
And so off we went to see the fortune-teller. Madam Junaida, a tiny, dark woman with a mass of fuzzy black hair piled high on her head and long dangling earrings, answered the door with a flourish. In spite of her small stature, she had a supremely imperial air about her. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
I’d expected a fortune-teller on a Caribbean island to be more exotic and mysterious than what we had in the States, but Madam Junaida’s setup would’ve been right at home in any suburb in Southern California-or any late-night infomercial. She swept through a glass-beaded curtain, and we followed her into a darkened room. At the center was a table surrounded by several red velvet-covered chairs. The only thing missing was a crystal ball.
I pulled out my cell and showed her the photo of Tammy Susie. I started to ask if she recognized the picture, but she abruptly held up a hand that clanked loudly with the movement of at least a dozen bangles. “Please! Respect my process. All of you, sit down.”
I sank into the chair gratefully. Between the mall and the outdoor market, I’d been on my feet for hours. When we were all settled, Madam held out her hand, palm up. “Now, give me the photo.”
I placed my phone in her hand, and she studied it through narrowed eyes. Then she set it down, picked up a fat cigar, lit it, and drew several hefty puffs. In the confines of that small box of a room, it was enough to make me gag. I felt my stomach lurch and asked myself why I’d been so gung ho to come here. A glance at Toni and Bailey confirmed they were having similar thoughts. Erica had turned a pale green.
When Madam Junaida had the cigar fully fired up, she took a strong pull and blew out a thick stream of smoke. Then she sat back and watched it curl toward the darkened ceiling. I tried to spot something-some shapes, maybe letters, anything that might be called a “sign.” All I saw was a cloud of foul-smelling tobacco. Not for the first time, I conceded it was a good thing I’d gone to law school.
Minutes passed while Madam Junaida gazed at the ceiling. Antsy and more than a little nauseated, I was just about to call it quits when she spoke up in a dusky, sonorous voice.
“You are afraid this girl has been harmed, correct?”
All those noxious fumes, and this was all she could come up with? Even without lighting up a stogie, I could’ve figured out that much.
But Erica was completely taken in. “Yes,” she squeaked.
“She is safe,” Madam pronounced.
Jeez, brilliant. No proof, no details, just the answer we obviously wanted. What a racket. “That’s really nice to know, but we need to actually find her,” I said. I could see Toni and Bailey smirking. Skepticism comes with the territory in law enforcement, but they tell me I take it to Olympic levels.
Madam Junaida gave me a sharp, knowing look and again spewed out a toxic cloud. After another smelly minute, she spoke.
“I see… a house with green shutters. And a dog… a yellow dog. And children.” She straightened up in her chair. “Your girl is there.”
“Where is there?” Bailey asked. “Where’s that house?”
Madam Junaida studied the burning end of the cigar. “It is not far.” She looked back up at the ceiling. “Someone close to you knows of this place.”
“Close to who? To me? Toni?” I asked. “Erica?”
She shook her head. “That is all I see.”
I leaned toward Toni and whispered, “I’d like to tell her what I see.”
Toni gave me a warning look and quickly jumped in. “Thank you, Madam Junaida,” she said.
Madam Junaida escorted us out. I hung back as the others left. When we walked into the place, I’d only intended to ask if she’d seen Tammy Susie, not engage her services. But, bidden or unbidden, she’d taken the time to do her entire shtick for us, and I could see from her modest digs that business wasn’t exactly booming for her. “What do I owe you?”
In Marcia Clark's most electrifying thriller yet, Los Angeles District Attorney Rachel Knight investigates a horrifying high school massacre.A Columbine-style shooting at a high school in the San Fernando Valley has left a community shaken to its core. Two students are identified as the killers. Both are dead, believed to have committed a mutual suicide.In the aftermath of the shooting, LA Special Trials prosecutor Rachel Knight teams up with her best girlfriend, LAPD detective Bailey Keller. As Rachel and Bailey interview students at the high school, they realize that the facts don't add up.
When the daughter of a billionaire Hollywood director is found murdered after what appears to be a kidnapping gone wrong, Los Angeles Special Trials prosecutor Rachel Knight and Detective Bailey Keller find themselves at the epicenter of a combustible and high-profile court case.Then a prime suspect is revealed to be one of Hollywood's most popular and powerful talent managers-and best friend to the victim's father.With the director vouching for the manager's innocence, the Hollywood media machine commences an all-out war designed to discredit both Rachel and her case.KILLER AMBITION is at once a thrilling ride through the darker side of Tinseltown and a stunning courtroom drama with the brilliant insider's perspective that Marcia Clark is uniquely qualified to give.
Without a Doubt is not just a book about a trial. It's a book about a woman. Marcia Clark takes us inside her head and her heart. Her voice is raw, incisive, disarming, unmistakable. Her story is both sweeping and deeply personal. It is the story of a woman who, when caught up in an event that galvanized an entire country, rose to that occasion with singular integrity, drive, honesty and grace.In a case that tore America apart, and that continues to haunt us as few events of history have, Marcia Clark emerged as the only true heroine, because she stood for justice, fought the good fight, and fought it well.
First in a new series from bestselling author and famed O. J. Simpson trial prosecutor Marcia Clark, a "terrific writer and storyteller" (James Patterson).Samantha Brinkman, an ambitious, hard-charging Los Angeles criminal defense attorney, is struggling to make a name for herself and to drag her fledgling practice into the big leagues. Sam lands a high-profile double-murder case in which one of the victims is a beloved TV star – and the defendant is a decorated veteran LAPD detective. It promises to be exactly the kind of media sensation that would establish her as a heavy hitter in the world of criminal law.Though Sam has doubts about his innocence, she and her two associates (her closest childhood friend and a brilliant ex-con) take the case.
Someone has been watching D.A. Rachel Knight-someone who's Rachel's equal in brains, but with more malicious intentions. It began when a near-impossible case fell into Rachel's lap, the suspectless homicide of a homeless man. In the face of courthouse backbiting and a gauzy web of clues, Rachel is determined to deliver justice. She's got back-up: tough-as-nails Detective Bailey Keller. As Rachel and Bailey stir things up, they're shocked to uncover a connection with the vicious murder of an LAPD cop a year earlier.
Писательница Агата Кристи принимает предложение Секретной разведывательной службы и отправляется на остров Тенерифе, чтобы расследовать обстоятельства гибели специального агента, – есть основания полагать, что он стал жертвой магического ритуала. Во время морского путешествия происходит до странности театральное самоубийство одной из пассажирок, а вскоре после прибытия на остров убивают другого попутчика писательницы, причем оставляют улику, бьющую на эффект. Саму же Агату Кристи арестовывают по ложному обвинению.
Без аннотации Вашему вниманию предлагается сборник зарубежных детективов.
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Летними вечерами в дачном поселке собиралась дружная компания хороших знакомых – пока к ним не присоединились новые соседи. Это неприятные, грубые люди – сильно пьющий художник Денис, его вульгарная супруга Иричка и ее тихая, незаметная сестра Зина. Как-то вечером, когда компания сидела во дворе, нарядная Иричка прошла мимо, небрежно помахав присутствующим, а вскоре ее труп нашли в ближайшем овраге…Полиция начала расследование, но соседи решили не оставаться в стороне и попросили Олега Монахова, называющего себя ясновидящим и волхвом, присоединиться к поискам убийцы в частном порядке…
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