Premeditated

2. A Quiet Lunch

A Quiet Lunch

Susan parked the car, got the groceries from the back seat and headed into the house, careful when stepping into the marble entrance hall so she wouldn’t slip. “Kev! I could use a hand with groceries.”

Kevin pushed the mute button on the TV remote and got up. “There was a time when you could handle the groceries yourself.”

“Yeah, and there was a time when your butt didn’t sag to the back of your knees,” she said, and set the bags on the kitchen table while catching her breath.

“Now get your ass out there and get the rest of the bags.” Susan looked at the TV. “And what the hell is ESPN playing for? You don’t watch sports.”

“I thought I’d better catch up on the games, since we’re going to Winston’s party. You know Winston and his buddies talk about sports—and nothing else, I might add.”

Susan shrugged. “Then I guess you better learn the lingo.”

A minute later, she met Kevin at the door, took a handful of groceries from him while he went and got more, then she made her way to the kitchen and the bags on the island. As she put the milk and cheese away, Kevin came back in, arms full, and set the rest of the bags down.

“There were a few more bags in the front seat,” Kevin said. “You must have forgotten about them. Old age does that to people.”

Susan laughed and swung a cucumber at him. “Be careful. This amazing vegetable can function as a weapon or a s*x toy. If I choose the latter, it means I no longer need you.”

“That’ll be the day,” Kevin said. “By the way, where have you been all morning?"

"I had to do some grocery shopping—as you see—then pick up a few things at the hardware store.” She grabbed the cheese from his hand—which he had obviously taken out of the fridge—and put it in the cheese drawer. “Speaking of which, I stopped home between trips, but your car was gone. Where were you?"

"Me? Just the normal errands. Nothing really."

"Nothing took you this long?" More than a little suspicion tainted her voice, and when she glanced over she thought she saw an embarrassed look on his face.

"I did stop by the bookstore to pick up some reading material."

Susan nodded, finished putting the groceries away, and watched as her dear spouse walked down the hall toward the bedroom.

Things were in motion. All that needed to be decided was where to do it.

Kevin slipped into his favorite pair of jeans and pulled a red shirt over his head, then tied the laces on his Nikes.

He stood, adjusting his clothes, when Susan walked in, fixing her earring. “You better hurry,” she said. “We’re supposed to be there at 4:00.”

“Stop worrying. We’ve got plenty of time. Now do something worthwhile, like tell me how I look.”

She never turned her head, but said, “Like you just threw a couple of touchdowns, or hit homers, or something. She bent to get a pair of nylons from one of the lower drawers on her dresser.”

Kevin laughed. “Keep bending over in front of me, and maybe I will score a few goals.”

She quickly straightened. “And maybe you won’t.”

As she went down the stairs, she called back. “I’ll be in the car so don’t be long.”

“Be right there,” Kevin said.

Kevin and Susan arrived at the Mulbert’s house right on time, but from the number of cars parked in the driveway, and curbside, it looked as if they were an hour late.

Susan rang the doorbell, leaning on her right leg to help support the deep-dish casserole she had slaved over earlier. Kevin stood behind her, holding a death grip on two bottles of a rare Pinot noir that a friend had located for him. The wine was bound to be a hit with this crowd. Winston Mulbert was a snob if nothing else, and not much got him more excited than a bottle of good wine or good Scotch.

Winston answered the door, Scotch glass in hand, and evidence of his imbibing on his breath. “Kevin, Susan. About time you got here.”

Kevin glanced at his watch and said, “Weren’t we supposed to be here at 4:00?”

Winston took a long swig, slapped Kevin on the shoulder, and said, “Technically, yes, but nobody arrives on time. They’re either early or late. Someday you’ll learn that, buddy.”

Susan laughed, and Kevin handed the bottles to Winston. “Here, take these before I drop them. They’re you’re responsibility now, buddy. And happy Giants’ Day or whatever the hell it is.”

Winston took the bottles, called for his maid to get them, then looked at Kevin and whispered. “I know you’re not a big fan, Kevin, but the Giants aren’t playing today.”

“Oh well,” Kevin said. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“I could,” Winston said. “And some folks in here would, but I won’t. The way I see it is it’s your prerogative. If you don’t want to join the rest of the world, that’s your issue.”

“I’m glad you see it that way, because I don’t want to join the huddled masses that stand around the coffee table or the water cooler on Monday and rehash the events of the weekend; there’s always work to do.”

Winston slapped him on the back and took another swig of his drink. “Come on in, you dinosaur. Glad you could make it. Now, give me a good stock tip and we’ll call your visit worthwhile.”

“You’re an ass,” Kevin said, then walked ahead to chat with a few others.

Winston waited for Susan, whispering in her ear when she got next to him. “All set for tonight,” he said. “Are you ready?”

She smiled. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The party went on for several hours, then dinner was served—prime rib with baby carrots and garlic mashed potatoes.

It was standard fare for one of Winston’s parties, nonetheless—it was excellent. After dinner, they tasted some wine that had been brought by Kathy—the next-door neighbor—then Winston’s wife Simone served up more wine. Afterward, she rang a dinner bell. Everyone fell silent.

“And now a special toast,” Winston said. He held up one of the bottles of the wine that Kevin had brought, and said, “To the man who doesn’t know a damn thing about sports, but who does his best to pretend he does. Happy birthday!”

Winston surprised Kevin with that. Kevin didn’t think that Winston even knew. He turned to Susan, who was smiling and leaned to whisper. “You damn sneak.”

Susan smiled and said, “Enjoy the party. I’ll give you my present tonight.”

Kevin grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. “I’ll be eagerly waiting.”

He suffered through a few more hours of non-stop talking—about nothing—then he and Susan said goodnight.

“Have to give the birthday boy his present,” she said, offering the excuse for leaving early.

Everyone laughed, wished Kevin a happy birthday again and said goodbye.

They pulled into the driveway, went into the house, then up to the bedroom. As they undressed, Susan said, “We should go to the summer house for a while.”

“It’s too damn hot this time of year.”

“That’s why it’s called a summer house,” Susan said.

“It’s called a summer house so you can go there when it’s winter here, and you can enjoy it. It’s not to go to in the summer and be tortured by the heat and humidity.”

Susan chuckled. “Shut-up and take your clothes off or risk losing your present.”

Kevin kicked his pants to the corner. “On second thought, Houston is fine by me.”

“Good,” Susan said, “Besides, if I get too hot there’s always skinny-dipping.”

“I don’t intend to miss that,” Kevin said, “So I guess we’re going to Houston.” He laughed and pulled her onto the bed.

Ray Challock tried to ignore the continual buzzing from his computer, but it was annoying as hell—like an oven timer that wouldn’t stop.

“Turn that goddamn noise off,” Sean hollered from across the room. “It’s loud enough to wake the dead.”

“Which is exactly what you’re going to be if you don’t shut-up,” Ray said.

“What’s it for, anyway?” Melinda asked.

“I’ve got it set to trigger the alarm if anyone accesses a particular website,” Ray said, while quickly typing on the keyboard. “And it looks as if someone just did.”

Sean got out of his seat and walked over. He stood next to Ray. “Which website?”

“A site that provides information on how to commit murder. It used to get a lot of hits, but I think they were mostly curiosity seekers. Now it’s down to only a few visitors, but the ones that go there seem legit.”

“No s**t?” Melinda asked, now joining the group.

Ray nodded, but he didn’t turn around to look at her. “We caught two guys last year near Chicago and three already this year—one in Los Angeles, one in Portland, and one in Miami. Every one of them had plans to kill someone. In the Miami case we didn’t get him in time. He did the deed.”

“So what do we do now?” Melinda asked.

“We’ll have San Francisco PD pull surveillance tapes from nearby. I know there’s an ATM across the street. If we’re lucky, we’ll get a hit on someone.”

“Not our worry anyway, is it?” Ray asked.

Sean stopped what he was doing and looked at Ray as if he were summing him up. “Somebody wants to kill someone, and we might be able to prevent it. So, to answer your question—no—it’s not a Homeland Security issue, but it’s sure as hell humane to try to do something. Where’s your f*****g heart?”

Sean turned to walk away. “It’s in the same place it was the last time I checked—the upper-left side of the chest.”

Ray shook his head. “You’re a first-class d**k,” he said, then picked up the phone to dial SFPD.

“Who are you going to alert?” Melinda asked.

“Homicide,” he said. “It hasn’t happened yet, but if we don’t stop this, someone is going to die. It’ll be a homicide then.”

Detective Don Flaherty listened as Ray told him what he had.

“You mean this is a site for getting information on how to kill someone?”

“You got it,” Ray said. “And don’t act surprised. There are sites for damn near everything if you know where to look. We’ve got one we’re monitoring that instructs people on how to build bombs.”

“Son of a b***h,” Flaherty said. “Okay, we’ll check it out. Give me the address again.”

After much work—meaning long hours of scrutinizing video from ATMs and other surveillance, Flaherty narrowed it down to a few people based on the plates he was able to get. The best video came from the ATM across the street. Flaherty grabbed the files from the desk he was working on, stepped into his office, then picked up the phone and called the Houston Police Department (HPD).