They’d all needed that.
~~~
EIGHT
Monday, Sam had big plans. “I think I’ll go to the lumber yard and get some shelving for the studio,” he said over breakfast.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re going to be spending a lot of time over there from now on?”
He grinned at her. “Do you mind?”
“Pfftt,” she snorted. “This is great for you. However,” and one eyebrow inched up to her hairline, “there is that other woman over there. Should I be jealous?”
Sam looked stunned. “Other—oh, Theodora. Jealous? I don’t think so.” He dismissed that with a wave.
Lacey laughed. “She seemed to like Daniel more than you, anyway. And I thought he was getting used to the idea of having ghosts around. Tori certainly thought it was cool, so that was working in his favor.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Sam’s smile was half-hidden behind his cup.
“Well, I’m going to research Theodora today,” Lacey said. “I want to know more about her.”
“No background checks?”
“I’ve got a few. Those don’t take long. Oh, I might try to serve a subpoena today. If I do, I’ll leave you a note.”
“Fine,” he said. He pushed aside his empty cup. “Okay, guess I’ll get to it.”
With Sam gone, she bent to her laptop. First up, as usual, were property records. She typed in the address of the studio and the timeline of owners came up. No question there: Theodora Sullivan owned the property from 1939 to 1951.
Well, a fellow Irishwoman, Lacey mused.
A search on Theodora brought up a multitude of hits. Born in 1890, died 1951. Multimedia artist; flamboyant, bohemian, ahead of her time. Lacey liked her already. She was known to combine media—oil and acrylic, papier-mâché and watercolor. She refused to be bound by convention or critics. Lacey found several images of her artwork—abstract mostly—and although they weren’t Lacey’s cup of tea, they were fascinating and evocative.
Maybe they could get a print of one of her works to hang in the studio. Lacey thought Theodora would like that.
Lacey read more. Never married, no children. Rumored to have had relationships with Pablo Picasso, Salvador Dali and Jackson Pollock.
Lacey threw back her head and laughed. A wild woman! She loved it. And no wonder Theodora was attracted to Daniel. The shy boy, so fearful of embarrassment, would be like catnip for a woman like that. Lacey just hoped Theodora didn’t hound Daniel too much, but she obviously liked men.
Which reminded her; apparently so did Daniel’s friend Jason. Lacey wondered how sexually active fourteen-year-olds were these days. More than when she was that age, she was sure. Did his sexual persuasion have anything to do with his murder?
Pushing her laptop aside, she got her notebook and began jotting things down. What could be behind the murder? Drugs, certainly, or other criminal activity. Gangs? Could his murder have been a hit, an execution? Or was it a simple argument that got out of hand?
She wished she knew more about Jason, what kind of boy he was. She felt sure Daniel would be reluctant to talk about it. Who might?
She thought back to the service on Saturday. And Cathy’s joking but plaintive wish: find his murderer. Would she talk to Lacey about it?
Energized by the possibility, Lacey did a quick search and found a phone number for Aldo Perez. A little nag in the back of her mind said Sam might not be crazy about her starting an active investigation, but what could a simple phone conversation hurt?
She dialed the number.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice.
“Cathy?”
“Yes.”
“This is Lacey Fitzpatrick, Daniel Firecloud’s stepmother. We met on Saturday.”
“Oh, yes. Hello.” Cathy’s voice softened from guarded suspicion to relaxed friendliness.
“I, uh, don’t want to intrude,” Lacey said, “but I wonder… Do you know what Sam and I do?”
“Yes. Well, I think I do. I know Sam’s a medium.”
“That’s right. And we do private investigations. Where people report paranormal manifestations, we find out who the ghosts are and why they’re tethered here, instead of moving on.”
Cathy did not respond. Lacey was quick to allay any suspicions.
“Let me just say right off that I’m not soliciting. Normally we take cases when people call and ask for our help, or if the LAPD contracts us in on a case. I just want you to know I’m not looking for money. But because this was Daniel’s friend, I’d really like to help.”
“I see.” Cathy’s voice was still tentative. “Has Sam… felt Jason?”
“No,” Lacey said. She gulped a breath. “But Daniel has.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. And he would not be happy knowing I’m telling you this. You didn’t know? You hadn’t heard about it?”
“No. I’m not sure how I would have…”
It dawned on Lacey that Cassidy was close to Kenzie’s age, and probably still in elementary school. “Right. With Jason gone, you probably wouldn’t hear about what’s been happening at the middle school. Daniel was getting impressions from Jason, and unfortunately taking a lot of flak from some of the other kids. There’s been name-calling, even fights.”
“Oh, no,” Cathy said softly.
“Yeah. Anyway, I’m sorry to ramble, but I want you to know where I’m coming from. I know the PD is doing all they can, and they have not invited Sam and me to work on this. But I also don’t think they have much to go on. And, after the service on Saturday, you did say you wished someone could find out who the murderer is.”
There was a thoughtful silence. “Yes, I did say that.”
“So I’m wondering,” Lacey said, “if I could meet with you to talk about this. Like I said, I don’t want to intrude, so if you’d rather not…”
“No, that’s fine. Yes, I… I think I’d like that.”
Lacey let out the breath she’d been holding. “Okay, great. Do you want to meet somewhere?”
“Why don’t you come over here? Here’s the address…”
They agreed to meet at ten. Lacey had her subpoena to serve, and she tucked that in her pack for later. That would be iffy at best; many people who knew they were in danger of being served ducked out of sight. But when she left a note for Sam—“Gone serving”—she wasn’t lying.
Just not telling the whole truth.
She pulled up in front of the Perez house, a nice ranch-style home in a quiet neighborhood. She slung her pack over her shoulder and went to the door.
Cathy opened it almost immediately.
“Come in,” she said, standing aside.
“Thank you,” Lacey said. “I appreciate your seeing me.”
“Would you like coffee or tea? I’ve got some coffee cake in here.” She led the way to the dining room table, the room bright with sunlight slanting in the windows.
“Coffee would be great,” Lacey said. She put her pack on the table and waited until Cathy brought the two cups before she sat down. Cathy went back for two plates of coffee cake and forks.
“Thank you,” Lacey said. “This looks yummy.”
“I’ve been baking a lot lately,” Cathy said. “It… keeps me busy.”
Lacey gazed at the woman with sympathy. She was pretty in an earthy way: calm blue eyes, blonde, shoulder-length hair with darker roots. Her smile was ready but quick to fade. Dark circles under her eyes spoke of trouble sleeping.
“I just want to say again how sorry I am,” Lacey said softly. “I’ve only been around Daniel and Kenzie about two years, but I can’t even imagine… It’s just such a tragedy.”
“Thank you,” Cathy said. Her smile was weak. “It’s the worst thing a parent can go through. It’s just… not the way it’s supposed to be.”
Lacey nodded. “No. No parent should have to bury their children. And for them to be murdered… Well, that’s just awful.”
“So what are you thinking about it?” Ca
thy asked. “The police, of course, have interviewed us extensively.”
“I’m sure they have,” Lacey said, “and some of my questions will no doubt be repeats. Since Sam and I have not been called in on this, I don’t have access to their data.”
She pulled her notebook out of her pack and sat back in her chair.
“First off, do you know of anyone who was angry at Jason or had threatened him? Anyone he might have been afraid of?”
Cathy shook her head. “No. Jason was a great kid. Most people liked him. He was funny, friendly, helpful. Well, you heard the testimonials at the service.”
“Yes. He sounded commendable.” She glanced down at her notes. “The first things I thought of were drugs—a drug deal gone bad—or gang warfare. Were you aware of any drug use?”
“I’ve never seen any evidence of that. Although he was responsible for keeping his room clean, I would deep-clean from time to time, move his bed and furniture and vacuum behind, that sort of thing. I never found anything that suggested drugs. He never acted paranoid or high.” Cathy cast her eyes down shyly for a moment. “I smoked dope in college. I know the signs.” She lifted her gaze to Lacey with some defiance.
“Of course,” Lacey said, smiling. “Okay, what about gangs? Did he hang around with any kids that seemed iffy to you? Ever see him flashing any signs?”
“No. None of his friends have driver’s licenses, so we’d take him wherever he needed to go, we or other parents. He wasn’t moody, didn’t hide in his room. He has no tattoos, never even asked for one. I’d say no to that, too.”
“Okay, good.” Lacey jotted notes. “What did he do in his spare time?”
Cathy shrugged. “Went skateboarding, played video games. He wanted to be a programmer. He actually developed a couple of small apps, but he really wanted to create video games. He hung out at the arcade a lot.”
Lacey had a sudden thought and made a note to herself. “Did he ever talk about being bullied?”
Cathy shifted her gaze out the window. “I don’t know that I’d call it bullying. He’d been called a name or two.”
Did she know? Lacey wondered. Know, or suspect? She decided to go for broke.
“Was he gay?”
Cathy swung her eyes back to Lacey. For a heartbeat, she studied Lacey’s face, no doubt looking for disdain, contempt, disapproval. There was none.
“Yes.”
“That has to be tough for kids,” Lacey said.
Cathy nodded. “Yes, it does. We did everything we could to support him, to make him feel accepted. We treat all our kids the same.”
Lacey remembered something she’d said at the service. “Was that why you attended the Unitarian Church?”
“Yes. It’s the only one that openly accepts gays.”
“I remember you talking about their inclusivity, and their welcoming ways. That’s terrific.”
“And rare,” Cathy said. A note of steel beneath her words told Lacey the Perez family had seen the other side.
“Do you know if he was sexually active?”
Cathy bit her lower lip, obviously giving the question carefully consideration.
“I … don’t know. I never saw anything here at the house, but of course once they go out the door…”
“There’s no way to know,” Lacey finished. “Yeah, I get that. Do you know if any of his friends were gay?”
“Mmm, not that I’m aware of. At least I can’t recall any that look blatantly so.” She cut her eyes sideways, then back. “I did wonder about Daniel at one point. He and Jason enjoyed each other’s company so much. I don’t think he is, though.”
Lacey pondered that. It was apparently what some kids—like Bret Russell—thought. She smiled, showing no offense at the suggestion. “No, I don’t think so, either. You should see him with his girlfriend. They’re adorable.”
Cathy smiled with just a wince of pain. No doubt thinking that her son would never know a first love.
“So what other ideas do you have?” she asked.
Lacey looked back over her notes. “I’ve never seen anything in the news articles about it being a possible robbery. Nothing was taken from him?”
Cathy shook her head. “No. He still had his wallet in his pocket. He still had his phone. Nothing missing that we could tell.”
“Where was he supposed to be on Saturday?”
“The video arcade. We dropped him there about ten in the morning, went back at two but he wasn’t there. He didn’t answer his phone. We weren’t terribly worried, although it wasn’t like him to disappear. We certainly weren’t thinking anything serious. Then the police showed up.” She swallowed painfully.
“Did you check his phone? Any recent calls or texts?”
“We actually can’t unlock it; don’t know his password. The police have it.”
Lacey frowned. That was a can of worms, for sure.
“All right,” she said. “I can’t think of anything else…”
“Okay, then. My turn,” Cathy said with a sudden forcefulness.
Lacey looked up. She could see the determination in the woman’s eyes. “Sure.”
“What do you know that the police don’t? What has Daniel seen, heard, felt? Has Jason told him anything?”
Lacey closed her notebook. “Actually,” she said, “Daniel’s been so upset by the whole incident—Jason’s death and his newfound ‘talent’—that we haven’t pushed him to talk about it. He’s not happy with this new gift, and the kids at school started calling him names. We figured he had enough to deal with. It was just yesterday that he started to seem like himself again.”
“So you know nothing about what he’s received from Jason?”
Lacey toyed with her pen. “Yesterday, he told us one thing.” Cathy leaned forward. “He said Jason shows him two kids.”
“Who?”
“He said one is older, apparently not at the middle school, because Daniel doesn’t recognize him.”
“And the other?”
“Bret Russell.”
“Bret—” Cathy sat back heavily in her chair.
“Do you know him?”
“Yes. Marginally. He hangs out at the video arcade, too, and Jason said he was always trying to break Jason’s record on some of the games. He never could, and started calling Jason names: geek, freak, video head. He seems to be a real jerk.”
Lacey nodded. “He’s the one calling Daniel names now.”
Cathy leveled a direct, unblinking stare at Lacey. “Did he kill Jason?”
“Daniel says no. But he says Bret was there. I’m assuming that means…”
“The other kid did it.”
Lacey nodded. “We don’t know that for a fact. And we don’t know who he is. But if I were a betting person, that’s where my money would be.”
Cathy blew out a breath. “Does Daniel know why? What happened to lead up to the shooting?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So what do we do now? How do we find out?”
Lacey could hear the impatience in Cathy’s voice. She couldn’t blame her.
“It’s a little tricky,” she confessed. “As I said, the LAPD has not called us in on this, and they’re not crazy about acting on spirit messages instead of hard evidence. We need something more, something the police can verify. If we can substantiate what Daniel received, we can take that to the PD and they’ll run with it. But we don’t have that yet.”
“But they could bring Bret in for questioning. They could interrogate him.”
“And if they had no concrete evidence, he could lie and they’d have to release him, and then he and this other guy would know we were on their tails. No, we don’t want to tip our hand too soon. We want them to relax, get comfortable, think they got away with it. That’s when they’ll make mistakes.”
Cathy clearly found that approach to be frustrating. Her brow creased and she crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you suggest?”
“Let me work on this,” Lacey said. �
�I can do some sniffing around that won’t be obvious. Let me see what I can find out, and, as I said, when we know we have solid evidence, we can go to the police.”
“What about Daniel? Can he help?”
Lacey hesitated. “I’m not sure. Sam’s not crazy about the idea of pulling him into the investigation, and I have to admit he’s right. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”
“But shouldn’t finding Jason’s killer be the priority?”
Lacey pulled in a steadying breath to counter the rising frustration in Cathy’s voice. Maybe talking to her wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“It is the priority,” Lacey said softly. “But not to the detriment of everything else. Please, let me work on it. We’ll get his killer. But we have to do it the right way.” She paused. “You wouldn’t want his killer to go free on a botched investigation or a technicality, would you?”
That got her attention. She lowered her eyes, looking chastised. “No,” she said simply.
“All right. Then we’re agreed. Give me a couple of days. I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything concrete, and in the meantime, if you think of anything that might help, let me know.” Lacey slid one of her business cards across the table. “We’re going to do this. I promise.”
Cathy arched an eyebrow at her. “Promise?”
Lacey nodded. “Yes. I promise.”
~~~
As agitated as she was, she surprised herself by remembering the subpoena she needed to serve. She drove to the man’s home with her mind racing. Had she gummed up the works by talking to Cathy? She just hoped the woman wouldn’t try to take matters in her own hand.
The subject of the subpoena wasn’t home, about what she’d expected. She’d have to knuckle under and do more research, see if she could find alternate locations for him. Often these lawbreakers were slippery.
When she got home, there was no sign of Sam. She chuckled; he was probably in up to his elbows on his new project. She hoped he remembered to grab some lunch. She fixed herself a sandwich and opened up her laptop.
Murder Walk Page 5
