Free Jericho Point by Meg Gardiner Page B

.’’
    ‘‘They’ll look at you and see motive and opportunity. And possibly means. You said you left your electric guitar at the party.’’
    ‘‘It’s probably gone now.’’
    ‘‘Brittany Gaines was garroted. Jesse thinks it may have been with a guitar string.’’
    ‘‘Shit.’’ He pressed his palm against an eye, and stopped. His head jerked up. ‘‘Wait, Jesse thinks it’s a string from my Strat?’’
    ‘‘P.J., last night you gave me a story that was a bunch of bullshit. You need to remember the truth. And you need to tell me what Brittany was doing with my ID.’’
    The color had leached from his face again. ‘‘Shit. Jesse thinks it was me.’’
    Abruptly the stereo shut down. Boots knocked along the hallway. Grocery bags rustled.
    I heard Karen’s sharp voice. ‘‘There’s barf outside on the driveway.’’ She walked in, arms full, and saw me. ‘‘And guess what, it’s in here too. Talk about balls.’’
    ‘‘I’m going,’’ I said.
    ‘‘Did you bring me my money?’’
    Sinsa brought more bags. ‘‘She walked straight in. I found her going through your desk.’’
    I whirled on her. ‘‘Knock it off.’’
    ‘‘Lighten up.’’ She rolled her eyes. ‘‘Where’s your sense of humor?’’
    P.J. was looking ill. Karen nodded at him.
    ‘‘Go hose down the driveway.’’ She set the groceries on the counter. ‘‘Sin, put on a bra.’’
    He stalked out of the kitchen, looking bleak. Sinsa ran after him. I made to follow, and Karen stopped me. I heard the front door slam.
    ‘‘You. Set foot on our property again, I’ll treat it as a robbery,’’ she said. ‘‘I don’t mean I’ll have you arrested. I mean we’ll fill your ass full of buckshot.’’ Her nostrils flared. ‘‘Am I clear?’’
    ‘‘As ice.’’
    ‘‘Good. Get out.’’
    It was a long walk to the door, and I felt the skin tighten on my cheeks. Outside, I looked around for P.J.
    The black X5 went roaring by. He was in the passenger seat. They raced down the wet driveway before I could shout.

9
    By the time I got home I was pissed off, hungry, and chafed. My track bottoms were full of sand. The day had been horrible.
    It was about to get worse.
    I phoned the morgue and gave Aguilar the name Brittany Gaines. Then, sitting down at my desk, I went online and checked my credit report. It confirmed my fears.
    Allied Pacific Bank. Credit card. Amount past due: $3,758.
    Delta One Visa. Credit card. Amount past due: $2,241.
    Americredit Financial Services. Auto lease. Ninety days past due. Status: Involuntary Repossession.
    I counted ten fraudulent entries, racking up twenty thousand dollars’ worth of bad debts in my name. I was going to be thoroughly, painfully reamed. This was bleeding-ulcer territory. And not all the bad debts were listed by the credit agency—such as the one that the Pancho Villa mustaches wanted to collect.
    Had a bad debt gotten Brittany Gaines killed?
    I phoned the credit agencies and put a fraud alert on my account. Then I phoned my bank. And each company that had issued a fraudulent card in my name.
    One of the fake cards had been issued by Allied Pacific Bank, the bank where the stolen Datura checks had been cashed. That made me think somebody had opened an account there in the name of K. E. Delaney. But I couldn’t check that out until Monday. I printed everything. Karen Jimson would need to see this.
    I flopped back in my desk chair, nerves jangling. I knew what I had to do next: file a crime report. The police department had forms online. While it printed, I went to the kitchen for a glass of water.
    Filing a crime report meant exposing P.J. to a harsh wind. But I had no doubt that he had taken the checks from the Jimsons, and helped Brittany forge my identity.
    What was wrong with him? Stealing from the Jimsons? He loved working for Ricky. He didn’t have to do anything. He watched TV. He had Sinsa to wind him up like a top. Why would he sabotage his ideal