Die Again (Rizzoli & Isles, #11)(45)
“I don’t know about targeted,” said Jane. “But it was definitely not clean and efficient, like this one.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll send you the crime scene photos. I’m sure you’ll agree Leon Gott’s murder was quite a bit messier. And more grotesque.”
“So maybe there is no connection between these two cases,” said Detective Pearson. “But do you know why they exchanged phone calls? How did they know each other?”
“I have a hunch, but I’ll need to confirm it with Jodi’s sister. You said her name is Sarah?”
“She lives about a mile from here. I’ll give her a call and tell her we’re coming. Why don’t you follow me in your car?”
“MY SISTER HATED EVERYTHING that Leon Gott stood for. His big-game hunting, his politics, but most of all the way he treated his son,” said Sarah. “I have no idea why he’d call Jodi. Or why she’d call him.”
They sat in Sarah’s tidy living room where the furniture was all blond wood and glass. It was apparent the two sisters shared similar tastes, right down to the Swedish-chic sensibilities. They resembled each other, too, both of them with curly red hair and swan necks. But unlike Jodi’s smiling Facebook photo, Sarah’s face was a snapshot of exhaustion. She’d brought out a tray of tea and cookies for her three visitors, but her own cup sat cooling and untouched. Though she was thirty-eight, in the gray light of the window she looked older, as if grief had exerted its own form of gravity on her face, drooping down the corners of her mouth, her eyes.
Detective Pearson and Sarah already knew each other and had bonded over Jodi’s death, so Jane and Frost deferred to Pearson for the first few questions.
“These phone calls may have nothing to do with Jodi’s murder, Sarah,” said Pearson. “But the coincidence is certainly striking. Did Jodi mention Leon Gott at all in the past few weeks?”
“No. Not in the past months or years, either. After she lost Elliot, there was no reason to talk about his father.”
“What did she say about Leon Gott?”
“She said he was the world’s most despicable dad. Jodi and Elliot lived together for about two years, so she heard a lot about Leon. How he loved his guns more than his own family. How he took Elliot hunting one day, when Elliot was only thirteen. Told him to gut the deer, and when Elliot refused, Leon called him a faggot.”
“How awful.”
“Leon’s wife left him right after that, taking Elliot with her. Best thing she could have done as a mother. Too bad she didn’t do it earlier.”
“And did Elliot have much contact with his father?”
“Sporadically. Jodi told me that the last call Leon made to Elliot was on his birthday, but it was a short conversation. Elliot tried to keep it civil, but he had to hang up when his dad started bad-mouthing his dead mother. A month later, Elliot left for Africa. It was his dream trip, something he’d planned for years. Thank God Jodi couldn’t get vacation time to go with him, or she might be …” Sarah’s head drooped and she looked down at her untouched cup of tea.
“After Elliot vanished,” said Detective Pearson, “did Jodi have any contact with Leon?”
Sarah nodded. “A few times. It took losing his son for him to realize what an ass he’d been as a father. My sister was such a good soul and she tried to offer him some sort of comfort. They’d never gotten along, but after Elliot’s memorial service, she wrote Leon a card. Even printed and framed the very last photo of Elliot, taken while he was in Africa. She gave that photo to Leon, and was surprised when she got a thank-you note from him. But after that, they fell out of touch. As far as I know, they hadn’t spoken in years.”
Up till now Jane had sat silent as Detective Pearson led the interview. Now she couldn’t help but interject.
“Did your sister have other photos of Elliot in Africa?”
Sarah gave her a puzzled look. “A few. He sent them all from his cell phone while he was traveling. His camera was never found, so those cell phone shots are the only ones there are from his trip.”
“Did you see them?”
“Yes. They were just typical travel shots. Photos of his flight, tourist spots in Cape Town. Nothing memorable.” She gave a sad laugh. “Elliot wasn’t a particularly good photographer.”
Detective Pearson frowned at Jane. “Is there a reason you’re asking about his Africa photos?”
“We spoke to a witness who was at Gott’s house around two thirty on Sunday. He heard Gott talking on the phone, telling someone he wanted all of Elliot’s photos from Africa. Based on the time of the call, that conversation would have been with Jodi.” Jane looked at Sarah. “Why would Leon want those photos?”
“I have no idea. Guilt?”
“About what?”
“About all the ways he could have been a better father. All the mistakes he made, the people he hurt. Maybe he was finally thinking about the son he’d ignored all those years.”
That’s what Jerry O’Brien had told them as well, that Leon Gott had recently grown obsessed about his son’s disappearance. With old age came regrets and thoughts of what one should have done, but for Leon there would never be a chance to heal the rift with Elliot. Alone in that house, with only a dog and two cats for company, did he suddenly realize what poor substitutes they were for the love of a son?