Three Complete Novels: A Is for Alibi / B Is for Burglar / C Is for Corpse

by Sue Grafton

  “The lawsuit wasn’t filed until recently,” I said. “Is this upsetting you? Because that wasn’t my intention. I just want to ask a few questions about the accident so we can figure out what went on and who was at fault. That’s all this is about.”

  He seemed to pull himself together and shift gears. “I don’t have anything to say. It’s been months.”

  “Maybe I can help refresh your memory.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have something I need to take care of. Maybe another day.”

  “This won’t take long. Just a few quick questions and I’ll be out of your hair. Please.”

  After a pause, he said, “All right, but I don’t remember much. It didn’t seem important, even at the time.”

  “I understand,” I said. “If you’ll recollect, this was the Thursday before Memorial Day weekend.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “You were on your way home from work?”

  He hesitated. “What difference does that make?”

  “I’m just trying to get a feel for the sequence of events.”

  “After work, then. That’s right. I was waiting for my bus and when I looked up I saw a young woman in a white car pull forward, preparing to turn left out of the City College parking lot.”

  He came to a stop, as though calculating his responses so he could offer the least information possible without being obvious.

  “And the other car?”

  “The van was coming from the direction of Capillo Hill.”

  “Heading east,” I said. I was trying to encourage a response without too much prompting. I didn’t want him simply feeding back the information I fed him.

  “The driver was signaling a right-hand turn and I saw him slow.”

  He stopped. I shut my mouth and stood there, creating one of those conversational vacuums that usually goads the other guy to speak. I watched him avidly, willing him to proceed.

  “Before the girl in the first car completed the turn, the driver in the van accelerated and rammed right into her.”

  I felt my heart give a thump. “He accelerated?”

  “Yes.”

  “Deliberately?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Why would he do that? Didn’t it seem weird?”

  “I didn’t have time to think about it. I ran out to see if I could help. It didn’t look like the girl was seriously hurt, but the passenger, an older woman, had big problems. I could see it in her face. I did what I could, though it didn’t amount to much.”

  “The younger woman, Ms. Ray, had wanted to thank you for your kindness, but she says the next thing she knew, you’d disappeared.”

  “I’d done as much as I could. Someone must’ve dialed 9-1-1. I could hear the sirens so I knew help was on the way. I went back to the bus stop and when the bus came, I got on. That’s as much as I know.”

  “I can’t tell you how helpful you’ve been. This is just what we need. The defendant’s attorney will want to take your deposition…”

  He looked at me as though I’d struck him in the face. “You never said anything about a deposition.”

  “I thought I mentioned it. It’s no big deal. Mr. Effinger will go through this again for the record…the same sort of questions…but you don’t have to worry about that now. You’ll get plenty of notice and I’m sure he can set it up so you won’t have to miss work.”

  “I didn’t say I’d testify about anything.”

  “You might not have to. The suit might be dropped or settled and you’ll be off the hook.”

  “I answered your questions. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Look, I know it’s a pain. Nobody likes to get caught up in these things. I can have him call you.”

  “I don’t have a phone. Mrs. Von isn’t good about messages.”

  “Why don’t I give you his number and you can contact him? That way, you can do it at your convenience.” I took out my notebook and scribbled Lowell Effinger’s name and office number.

  I said, “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. I should have made myself clear. As I indicated, there’s an outside possibility the matter will be resolved. Even if you testify, Mr. Effinger will make it as painless as possible. I can promise you that.”

  When I tore off the leaf and passed it to him I caught sight of his right hand. A crude tattoo was visible in the webbing between the thumb and index finger. The area was rimmed with what looked like lipstick red that had faded over time. Two round black dots sat on either side of his knuckle. My first thought was prison, which might explain his attitude. If he’d had legal problems in the past, it could account for his balkiness.

  He put his hand in his pocket.

  I glanced away, feigning interest in the decor. “Interesting place. How long have you lived here?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have time to chat.”

  “No problem. I appreciate your time.”

  As soon as I reached my desk I put a call through to Lowell Effinger’s office, which was closed for the weekend. His machine picked up and I left a message for Geneva Burt, giving her Melvin Downs’s name and address. I said, “Don’t let it wait. This guy seems antsy. If you don’t hear from him first thing Monday, call his landlady, Mrs. Von. She’s a tough old bird and she’ll crack the whip.”

  I gave her the number that rang into Juanita Von’s office.

  23

  Having made the call to the county agency that dealt with elder abuse, I expected to feel relieved. The matter was out of my hands and the investigation of Solana Rojas was someone else’s responsibility. In reality, I was uneasy about running into her. I’d worked hard to ingratiate myself in an effort to gain access to Gus, but if I cut off all contact and the investigator showed up asking pointed questions, the obvious conclusion would be that I’d made the call, which of course I had. I didn’t know how to maintain even the semblance of innocence. In my heart, I knew Gus’s safety took precedence over the risk of Solana’s wrath, but I fretted nonetheless. Consummate liar that I am, I was now fearful she’d accuse me of telling the truth.

  This is how the system works. A citizen sees an instance of wrongdoing and calls it to the attention of the proper authorities. Instead of being lauded, an aura of guilt attaches. I’d done what I thought was right and now I felt like skulking around, avoiding the sight of her. I could tell myself all day long I was being silly, but I was afraid for Gus, worried he’d pay the price for the call I’d made. Solana wasn’t a normal human being. She had a ruthless streak and the minute she figured out what I’d done, she was going to crawl up in my hair and take a shit. It didn’t help that we lived in such proximity. I unburdened myself to Henry sitting in his kitchen at the cocktail hour—he with Black Jack over ice, me with my Chardonnay.

  “Don’t you have business that might take you out of town?” he asked.

  “Don’t I wish. Actually, if I were gone, suspicion would fall on you.”

  He waved that worry aside. “I can handle Solana. So can you, if it comes down to it. You did the right thing.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself, but I do have one teeny tiny transgression to confess.”

  He said, “Oh, lord.”

  “It’s not that bad. The day I was helping Solana with Gus, I took advantage of the moment to lift his check register and one of the passbooks for a savings account.”

  “‘Lift,’ as in stole?”

  “Well, yes, if you want to be blunt. That’s what prompted me to make the call to the county. It was the first proof I’d seen that she was draining his accounts. The problem is, now that she’s changed the locks I don’t have a way to put them back.”

  “Oh boy.”

  “‘Oh boy’ is right. What am I supposed to do? If I hang on to the documents, I can’t keep them at my place. What if she figures it out, calls the cops, and gets a search warrant?”

  “Why can’t you put ’em in your safe-deposit box?”

  “But I’d still risk getting ca
ught with them. At the same time, I can’t destroy them because if Solana’s charged with a crime, that would be evidence. Actually if I’m charged with a crime, it’s evidence against me.”

  Henry was shaking his head in disagreement. “Don’t think so for three reasons. The documents are inadmissible because they’re ‘fruit of the poison tree.’ Isn’t that what it’s called when evidence is illegally obtained?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Besides which, the bank has the same records, so if push comes to shove, the DA’s office can subpoena the records from them.”

  “What’s number three? I can hardly wait.”

  “Seal ’em in an envelope and mail them to me.”

  “I don’t want to put you in jeopardy. I’ll figure it out. Really, it’s enough to make me want to reform,” I said. “Oh, yeah, and there’s something else. The first time I went in…”

  “You’ve been in twice?”

  “Hey, the second time she invited me. That’s when Gus was stranded in the shower. The first time, I used his house key and made a note of all the medications he was on. I wondered if maybe a drug combination was causing his confusion and making him sleep. The pharmacist I talked to suggested possible pain pill or alcohol abuse, which is neither here nor there. This is the point. When I was cruising through the house, thinking Gus and Solana were gone, I opened the door to the third bedroom and there was this three-hundred-pound goon asleep in the bed. Who the hell was he?”

  “Might have been the orderly she hired. She mentioned him when I was over there. He comes in once a day to help get Gus on and off the toilet and things like that.”

  “But why was he sleeping on the job?”

  “He might have stayed so she could have a day off.”

  “Don’t think so. She was out with Gus running an errand of some kind. Come to think of it, why wasn’t the orderly there to help when she had to get Gus out of the shower?”

  “Maybe he’d already come and gone. She said he’s paid by the hour so he probably isn’t there for long.”

  “If you see him over there again, let me know. Melanie never said a word about Solana hiring help.”

  I went back to my place at 7:00 with a buzz on. A happy consequence of my anxiety was my appetite was gone. In the absence of food, I was turning into a drunk. I glanced at my desk and saw the message light blinking on my answering machine. I crossed the room and pressed the Play button.

  “Hey, Kinsey. Richard Compton here. Could you give me a call?”

  What was this about? I’d done a couple of jobs for the man in the previous week, so maybe he had more. I was willing to do just about anything to keep myself out of my own neighborhood. I dialed the number he left and when he picked up, I identified myself.

  “Thanks for returning my call. Look, I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday night, but I need a favor.”

  “Sure.”

  “I have to fly up to San Francisco tomorrow at six A.M. I thought I’d better catch you now instead of calling from the airport.”

  “Good plan. So what’s the favor?”

  “I got a message from the fellow in the apartment above the Guffeys’ place. He thinks they’re getting ready to decamp.”

  “So the unlawful detainer did the trick?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “That’s a blessing.”

  “A big one. Problem is, I’m gone until Friday and I won’t have a chance to do the final inspection and pick up the keys.”

  “You’ll be changing the locks anyway, so why sweat the keys?”

  “True, but I made them pay a twenty-dollar key deposit, plus a hundred-dollar cleaning deposit. If someone doesn’t go out there, they’ll swear up and down the place was immaculate and they left the keys in plain sight. Then they’ll turn around and want both deposits back in full. Obviously, you don’t have to do it right this minute. Any time before noon on Monday would be fine.”

  “I can go tomorrow if you like.”

  “No sense inconveniencing yourself. I’ll give ’em a call and tell them you’ll be there Monday. You want to give me a time?”

  “Eleven fifteen? That way I can take care of it before I break for lunch.”

  “Good. I’ll let them know. I’ll be staying at the Hyatt on Union Square if you should need to reach me.”

  He gave me the phone number of his hotel and I jotted it down. “Look, Richard, I’m happy to help you out, but I’m not in the property management business. You should really hire a professional to handle things like this.”

  “I could, kiddo, but you’re much cheaper. A management company would take ten percent of the gross.”

  I might have responded, but he’d hung up.

  When I left my apartment Monday morning, I found myself scanning the street and the front of Gus’s house, hoping to avoid an encounter with Solana. I didn’t trust myself to have a civil conversation with her. I started my car and pulled away from the curb in haste, unable to resist the urge to crane my neck for some sign of her. I thought I caught movement at the window, but it was probably a fresh surge of paranoia kicking in.

  I reached the office and let myself in. I gathered the mail from Saturday that had been shoved through the slot and now lay in a wide lake on the rug in my reception area. My answering machine was winking merrily. I separated the junk mail and tossed it in the wastebasket while I punched the Play button. The message was from Geneva Burt, in Lowell Effinger’s office. She sounded harried, but her Mondays were probably like that. I dialed the law firm while I was in the process of opening the bills, the phone pressed between my right ear and my shoulder in a hands-free hunched position. When Geneva picked up on her end I identified myself and said, “What’s up?”

  “Oh hi, Kinsey. Thanks for returning my call. I’m having a devil of a time connecting with Mr. Downs.”

  “He’s supposed to call you. That’s why I gave him your number in the first place. He doesn’t have a phone so he gets his messages through his landlady. It seemed simpler all around to have him make the contact since he’s so difficult to reach.”

  “I understand and I passed along your comment about how antsy he is. Mr. Effinger’s anxious to take his deposition so he asked me to go ahead and call and get something on the books. I’ve tried three times this morning and I can’t get anyone to pick up. I hate to do this to you, but he’s leaning on me so I gotta turn around and lean on you.”

  “Let me see what I can do. I don’t think he works Mondays so I may be able to catch him at home. You have a date and time set? If so, I’ll make sure he puts it on his calendar.”

  “Not yet. We’ll accommodate his schedule once we know what’s good for him.”

  “Great. I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve talked to him. If he’s at all resistant, I’ll put him in my car and drive him over there myself.”

  “Thanks.”

  I got in my car and looped back up Santa Teresa Street and covered the eight blocks, making the two left turns that put me on Dave Levine. The residence hotel came into view, and for once there was a decent parking place out front. I left my car at the curb and took the porch steps two at a time. I pushed open the door and walked down the hall to Mrs. Von’s office in the rear. On the counter there was an old-fashioned punch bell and I gave it a ringy-ding.

  A young woman came out of the dining room with a feather duster in one hand. She was in her twenties, her hair skinned back and held in place with blue plastic combs. She wore a T-shirt and jeans, and she had a dust rag caught in a belt loop, like a sous-chef. “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Mrs. Von.”

  “She’s out running errands.”

  The phone on the desk behind her began to ring. And ring. And ring. She glanced at it, ignoring the obvious solution, which was to answer it. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  The ringing stopped.

  “Possibly,” I said. “Do you know if Mr. Downs is in?”

  “He’s gone.”<
br />
  “The man’s always gone. Any idea when he’ll be back?”

  “He moved out. I’m supposed to clean the place, but I haven’t gotten to it yet. Mrs. Von’s putting a notice in the paper that the room’s for rent. That’s partly what she’s doing while she’s out.”

  “You can’t be serious. I talked to him on Saturday and he never said a word. When did he give notice?”

  “He didn’t. He just packed up and left. Whatever you said to him, you must have scared him away,” she said with a laugh.

  I stood rooted in place. What in the world would I tell Lowell Effinger? Melvin Downs’s statement was crucial to his case and now the guy had cut and run.

  “Can I take a look at his room?”

  “Mrs. Von wouldn’t like that.”

  “Ten minutes. Please. That’s all I ask. She doesn’t have to know.”

  She thought about that and seemed to shrug. “Door’s unlocked so you can walk around if you want. Not that there’s anything to see. I peeked in first thing to see if he’d left a mess behind. It’s clean as a whistle as far as I can tell.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. And I mean that. I’m busy cleaning the kitchen. I don’t know nuthin’ about nuthin’ if she catches you.”

  I took the back stairs this time, worried I’d run into the returning Mrs. Von if I used the main staircase. From below I could hear the ringing of the phone start up again. Maybe the cleaning woman was on orders not to answer it. Maybe Cleaning Personnel Union #409 forbade her taking on duties that weren’t specified by contract.

  When I got to the third floor, just to be on the safe side, I tapped at Melvin Downs’s door and waited a beat. When no one responded to my knock, I checked the hall in both directions and then opened the door.

  I stepped into his room with the same heightened sense of danger I felt every time I found myself someplace I wasn’t supposed to be, which was much of the time these days. I closed my eyes and inhaled. The room smelled of aftershave. I opened them again and did a visual survey. The dimensions were unexpectedly generous, probably sixteen by twenty feet. The closet was large enough to accommodate a wide chest of drawers with two wooden rods for hanging clothes and a shoe rack attached to the back of the door. Above the hanging rods there were empty wood shelves that reached all the way to the ceiling.