Page 15 of The Perfect Accomplice

“Assuming that Elaine Podemski doesn’t confess outright, we’ll be focusing on her next,” Ryan answered. Jessie could sense a little irritation in his voice at getting the third degree and hoped Parker hadn’t picked up on it too.

“All right,” the captain said evenly, “let me know if anything develops. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks, Captain,” Jessie said before Ryan could respond, “Talk later.”

She hung up just as they stopped in front of Elaine Podemski’s home. She thought Ryan might comment on the conversation, but he didn’t, instead turning off the car and opening the door without a word. Jessie did the same, then turned to take in the house before them.

It was something to behold. The home, in the heart of the Arroyo section of Pasadena, was a masterpiece of the Arts and Crafts architectural style, which was popular in the area around the turn of the 20th century. With its low-pitched roofs, exposed beams, and giant, square-columned porch, it looked like it could be on the cover of a home design magazine, which Jessie suspected it had been.

They walked up the long path that cut through the enormous, tightly mowed lawn toward the place, which was all brown wood and green accents, Were they not in a time crunch, Jessie might be tempted to ask for a tour, assuming they could eliminate the woman as a suspect. They hadn’t even gotten up the porch steps when the door opened and the woman she knew to be Elaine Podemski stepped out.

They’d done some basic research on Podemski on the way over so they wouldn’t arrive clueless. The granddaughter of oil and gas titan William “Billy” Podemski and his son Arthur “Artie” Podemski, she was Pasadena royalty. That status had only increased when she married Kelvin Rossum, an east coast venture capitalist who’d moved west after making a fortune in junk bonds in the 1980s, just before the bubble burst. After that, he settled in the Bay area before moving south to take advantage of the sunnier climate. That’s where he met and married Elaine.

Together, they were a power couple for nearly a quarter of a century before he dumped Elaine last year for a woman the same age as his daughter. Their divorce, only finalized a few months ago, would have been local tabloid fodder if not for the iron-clad nondisclosure agreements they both put in their prenuptial agreement. Based on what Nikki Fleetwood had said about Elaine’s mood during the mother-daughter dinners lately, it sounded like she wasn’t dealing with it all that well.

That wasn’t obvious from her current appearance. Dressed in tan corduroy slacks and a charcoal sweater, with her grayish-black hair pulled up in tight bun, she cut an imposing figure. Jessie stiffened, preparing herself for the unpleasant task of telling the woman that her daughter was dead. But it turned out that she needn’t have.

“I know who you are, and I know why you’re here,” she said, her voice brittle and sharp. “So we can skip the formalities and get straight to the point.”

Ryan glanced over at Jessie, unable to hide his surprise. She didn’t have any suggestions for him, so he did what he would have done anyway: he introduced himself.

"Mrs. Podemski," he said, taking another step up to the porch. "I'm Detective Ryan Hernandez with the LAPD and this is Jessie Hunt. I'm not sure exactly what you know, so maybe you can share it with us."

“You can stop right there, Detective,” she replied, holding up her hand. “I didn’t invite you in. My sources suggest that you are here to tell me that my daughter is dead, strangled, likely last night. You’re investigating her death, along with that of another woman who lived in the area. There is no need to offer your condolences or try to make this easier for me. I’ll process this in my own way. If you have specific questions about her that I can answer, and which will help find her killer, I’m amenable to that. Otherwise, I’d just as soon you not waste your time here.”

“Well, Mrs. Podemski,” he said, impressing Jessie with his unflustered tone, “we think your insight could be invaluable, especially since we understand that you had regular dinners with Erin. We’re hoping that you might be able to shed some light on things we couldn’t otherwise know. May we come in?”

She shook her head. “You may take seats on the porch bench over there,” she told him, nodding at it. “I’ll take the big chair.”

They made their way up the steps and settled in on the beautifully crafted but extremely hard wooden bench. Podemski took a seat in a large rocking chair opposite them and waved her hand like a queen to her subjects.

“Ask your questions,” she instructed.

Ryan looked over at Jessie to see if she wanted to start. She did.

“Mrs. Podemski,” she began, “did Erin mention having any serious ongoing conflicts with anyone or ever suggest that she felt unsafe for some reason?”

Podemski shook her head. “My daughter was not easily cowed. Despite her relatively spoiled upbringing, she was a tough cookie. When she was younger, she got made fun of for being a child of wealth. More recently, she was repeatedly attacked for the boldness of the material in her book. Nothing fazed her.”

“Not even you?” Ryan asked, perhaps more aggressively than Jessie would have under the circumstances.

Podemski’s eyebrows rose nearly to her scalp. “What is that supposed to mean, Detective?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” he said, before saying exactly what he meant. “It’s just that we’ve heard that your dinners here with her could sometimes turn contentious.”

“Are you suggesting that occasional mother-daughter sniping is out of the ordinary?” she asked haughtily. “Alert the newspapers!”

Jessie looked at Ryan. She could tell that the woman was getting under his skin. Whether it was residual irritation with Captain Parker or general distaste for Podemski, he had clearly chosen not to go the diplomatic route. And now that he’d started down that road, he couldn’t very well back off without looking cowed himself.

“Mrs. Podemski,” he continued, “since you said we should dispense with the condolences and not waste your time, I’ll get to the point. We have it on good authority that your dinners went beyond standard sniping and that you were quite envious of Erin’s success, to the point of berating her relentlessly for any perceived flaw. Some might even call it outright hostility. How do you respond to that?”

“It sounds like you’re implying that, out of some sense of jealousy, I may have gone to my own daughter’s home and strangled her to death. Or are you positing that I hired someone for the task? Are you so hard up for suspects Detective, that you’re reduced to making unsubstantiated allegations against a grieving mother?”

“No one has made that allegation, Mrs. Podemski,” Jessie noted, stunned at just how curdled the woman’s tone had become. “It’s our obligation to pursue every avenue of investigation. I would think that as her grieving mother, you’d be on board with whatever we need to do to catch her killer, including asking you a few hard questions.”

Podemski smiled at her, all sharp teeth and insincerity. "Ms. Hunt, your reputation precedes you, and I would never be one to question the methods of Los Angeles's profiling sweetheart, but I have to say that so far, I'm unimpressed. Any theory based on the notion that I would kill my own daughter because I resented her success isn't worth my spit. I'm a difficult woman, but I'm not that cold. I loved my daughter in my way.”

Jessie was about to point out that “in her way,” Podemski was still deflecting their questions, but the woman didn’t let her get in a word.

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