“This doesn’t sound like a healthy relationship,” I said.
“Who’s to say what is healthy and what’s not? Besides, I think Edie may have been off her meds again. Like I said, erratic, missing support group meetings. In the last few days before she died, she stopped taking my calls, didn’t return texts. And when I stopped by the house, I didn’t see her car, but I went to the door anyway. Clive answered, and he’d say she wasn’t home. Something was wrong.”
“Clive insists she was murdered. If so, who could possibly want her dead?” I asked. My head spinning from the revelations about their relationship.
Maybe Edie wasn’t so vain after all. Maybe she really wanted to stop tanning and stop looking like a Barbie doll.
“That’s just it, the only person I can think of is Clive.”
Lydia and I looked at each other.
“Why?” Lydia asked.
“You knew Edie, she was lovely. Everyone liked her,” Zoe said matter-of-factly.
“That’s not a good reason to point the finger at Clive,” I said.
“That’s not what I mean. I really do think Edie succeeded in killing herself this time, but I think Clive drove her to it. It’s like that girl who kept telling her friend to kill himself. Remember?”
I did remember. The case revolved around a depressed teen boy. He’d planned to commit suicide, but hesitated. He got out of his vehicle and called his friend to talk. She basically called him a coward, or something like that, and told him to just do it already. He did. She was convicted of some degree of murder. I couldn’t recall the exact details, but I’d heard about the case.
Did Clive drive Edie to suicide? Did he tell her how to do it, and then push her?
“Lydia, who was the last person Edie called on her cell phone?” I asked.
“Her daughter,” Lydia said. “But that was three days before she died. I don’t know if her phone was turned off or what, but she didn’t have any missed calls or texts in the three days before her death.”
Fourteen
Charles
The first thing I did when I woke up was call Jared. He had to know what I’d found out, and I needed to make arrangements. The funeral was the next day.
“Hello, this is Jared.” He sounded tired.
I looked at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. Oops, only six am.
“Hey, it’s Charles Parks. I need to discuss some things with you. Got time today?”
I heard him yawn, then move around. “I’m not in California anymore.”
“Really? I thought you were sticking around for a few days.” I swear I heard him say he’d be in town for the funeral.
“I had to get to Chicago, just in case. The funeral is here. So I had to take a few vacation days. What’s up?”
“I’ll be honest with you, I was up all night going over the case. I found a few things and more than a few inconsistencies.” I measured fresh coffee beans into my grinder.
He didn’t say anything right away, so I pressed the button on the grinder to get the right consistency for espresso. I’d just received a shipment of Italian espresso roast from a friend in Europe.
“What kind of inconsistencies?” Jared asked.
I stopped grinding the beans, put my phone on speaker, and measured the espresso into my machine.
“In the evidence. I don’t know if it was an inside job or just shoddy police work, but key evidence in the RICO case disappeared. They didn’t have enough on the drug trafficking charges for the district attorney to bring it to a grand jury. They had enough in the RICO case, but then they didn’t. I don’t know who your witness is for sure, but I think I have a good idea. So, if it’s who I think it is, what did they have on him to get him to turn on his family?”
“Wasn’t that in the files?” Jared said. “His arrest and charges should have been in the file.”
“Nope. I didn’t see anything. There are several witnesses that are no longer alive. And three of them died very close to the case going before the grand jury. Something is messed up. I’ve narrowed it down to three men, all related to the man whose funeral is Friday, and if it’s the one I think it is, I don’t see anything that would compel him to testify.”
I’d been awake and at the office until almost two in the morning. I finally forced myself to go home, and then I couldn’t sleep. Too many bad things rolling around in my mind. Thinking I’d missed something, I went back to the office and started from the beginning, going back through transcripts and evidence to be presented in the case. Then I went over the reasons the case could have been dismissed. In the end, the DA decided they didn’t have enough to prosecute. I investigated the DA’s bank accounts, checked for offshore accounts, and found nothing. If he’d been bribed to toss the case, it hadn’t been with money. I’d looked in every possible place, and it wasn’t there.
The DA still lived in his modest home in San Jose, and his wife still worked. His kids had massive student loan debt, and he had one more kid in high school. I didn’t see a money trail. Was he afraid for his family? That was a possibility, but I couldn’t find any evidence.
“Based on what you researched, do you think my witness can go to the funeral without the threat of being killed?”
I didn’t answer right away, because I didn’t have a definitive answer. “We can keep him under watch. And if he’s supposedly dead, no one will expect him there. But this crowd is the type to carry concealed at a funeral. And I wouldn’t be surprised if there were half a dozen or more cops at the funeral home or the cemetery, waiting for something to happen.”
“I thought about that, too. This guy is connected, and he may be dead, but there are still enemies.” Jared sounded more awake now.
“Who took over after he died? Or is it too soon to tell?” I asked.
“I heard through the grapevine his wife took the helm.”
A woman at the helm. Interesting. How much did she know from the beginning? If she’d taken over, she had to be in the know for a long time. Unlike other crime families, this man didn’t try to separate his wife from the business.
“Would you let him go to the funeral?” Jared asked again.
“Are you going to be there?” I asked.
“If you say it’s okay, and you decide to accompany me, yes.” Jared sounded anxious, like he wanted me to say yes.
“I’ll be honest with you, it’s a gamble. If he’s willing to take the chance to attend his father’s funeral, I’ll fly to Chicago, but I’m not going to feel bad if we’re wrong and it all goes to hell.”
“You’re joking about not knowing who the witness is, right? I mean, you know this guy was going to testify against his family. You know who it is,” Jared said.
I did. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I’d be in idiot if I didn’t easily know. I guess I just wanted to pretend I didn’t.
“What time is the funeral?” I asked.
Jared gave me the time and place.
“I’ll catch a late flight to O’Hare tonight. You want to pick me up at the airport? And please tell me you’re staying in a decent hotel.”
Jared agreed to pick me up. I’d text him the flight details when I had them. He was staying at the Hyatt, so I’d be fine if I reserved a suite there. Heck, I even considered staying a few days.
“Who was that?” Max shuffled into the kitchen, wearing only his boxer briefs.
I put my phone in my pocket and poured water into the well on the espresso machine. “Can you grab milk for me?”
Max pulled the gallon of milk from the fridge and poured it into the stainless-steel container I used for frothing milk. He leaned against the counter. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Oh, it was Jared. I called to tell him my findings on the case his witness was supposed to testify for.” I pressed the button on the machine and dark, rich liquid poured from the two spouts into my demitasse cup. “One shot or two?”
“It’s too early for just one,” Max said.
When
the cup was full, I poured the espresso into a larger mug, then put the steamer wand into the milk. We were quiet as the steam hissed and heated the milk. I poured that over the espresso and handed the mug to Max.
“I’m flying to Chicago tonight,” I said
Max still had milk foam on his top lip when he looked up at me. “What? Wait. I thought all of this was taking place here?”
“I thought so, too, but the family lives in Chicago, and that’s where the funeral will be held.” I repeated the process to make my own latte.
“Then why was Jared here? I swear, he made it sound like this was all going down in San Jose.” Max wiped his lip, then took another sip.
“It’s complicated, but part of the RICO indictment was out of California, part of it was in Texas, and the main characters lived in Illinois. It’s a convoluted mess. You’re welcome to come to the office to see my files and notes.”
Max ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Want me to go with you?”
I did, but I wasn’t going to ask.
“Do you want to go?”
Max grinned. “Hell, yeah. This is crazy and more interesting than what I’m working on at the moment. They have me in the field office, not undercover. I can take a few vacation days.”
Then maybe we would stay in Chicago for a bit. We could take in a play and go to a chophouse for aged beef. Maybe hit the Merchandise Mart to see the latest and greatest in-home furnishings and décor. Make a date out of it after the funeral.
“I’ll book a flight for us. We have to leave tonight, so we can meet this guy and escort him to the funeral.”
“Who is it, anyway? Or do you want to say?”
I told Max the name of the witness, and I saw the color drain from his face.
Fifteen
Mimi
Piper and I rode together to the scene of the “crime” on Old Stage Road. I insisted we take a Gotcha fleet car. That way, if anyone called the police to turn in the license plate, it would come back to the agency and not me or Piper.
On the way, we stopped at a drive-thru for coffee and bagels. I had my new favorite, white chocolate with peppermint, and Andes peppermint candies on top of the whipped cream. Piper ordered black coffee in the flavor of the day, which was some Kenyan blend. I had a cinnamon and sugar bagel with honey almond cream cheese, and Piper had a breakfast bagel. I asked the server to cut mine in half, so it would be easier to eat and drive.
“What do you think?” I asked after telling her the information Edie’s friend had brought to us.
“I think we should still look at this as a homicide, even though it’s looking more and more like a suicide. Talking to Clive later will be eye opening. I have a lot of questions to ask, and how he answers will be quite telling.”
“I agree. If it was a homicide, I still can’t find anyone with reason, motive, or opportunity. And I haven’t figured out where to start,” I said around a small bite of bagel in my mouth.
I can’t walk and talk without choking on my own spit, so I should know better than to eat and talk, but thankfully, I didn’t choke and have to pull over to the side of the road to keep from getting in a wreck.
I smiled at old memories as we drove past the Monterey County Sheriff’s Posse Grounds. I’d been there many times in the past for the Big Hat BBQ. The gathering occurred during Big Week, which is the week the professional rodeo cowboys came to town. Salinas hosted one of the top rodeos in the United States and Canada the third weekend in July. The rodeo lasted four days, but the celebration started long before the cowboys arrived for the rodeo. The Big Hat BBQ was one of those celebrations, and it was better than a class reunion for running into old friends and even old boyfriends.
The memory of hooking up with an old boyfriend I’d broken up with came to mind. I hadn’t expected to see him there without his new girlfriend, but there he was. I also hadn’t expected to leave the BBQ with him, and yet we did. I’m pretty sure the girlfriend never knew, or I don’t think she’d have married him. I’ll always have it in the back of my heart that he chose me, even when he was with her. I remember him telling me he’d never love anyone the way he loved me, even though he was too stubborn to get back together. He was punishing me for breaking up with him. I laughed at the thought and wondered what would happen if we ran into each other again. I know I wouldn’t be tempted, but could I tempt him? He was the only guy I ever hooked up with who I knew was taken. Sometimes I almost feel bad about it, but then my ego gets in the way.
Call me all the horrible names you want, because I’d deserve it, but I was young and jealous, and I really think I wanted him back. At least, I wanted to know he still wanted me.
Then we passed by an old friend’s house and my memories changed to football games, the nights at the clubs in Monterey, and all the fun we had. It made me sad that we’d lost touch and I vowed I’d look her up when I had the time. Maybe see if we could get together and laugh over our silly, immature days.
When I turned the car onto Old Stage Road, I slowed a bit, going about fifteen miles per hour, and hoping a car didn’t come up behind me and get impatient before we found the driveway where Edie died.
Things hadn’t changed much since I’d been on this road last. I had another friend who used to board her horses at a ranch on this road. I loved coming out to watch her ride, but I wasn’t much into it myself. Cortnie would have loved my friends, since she was a hand with horses.
Three houses in, I saw the entrance to the ranch across the street. No crime scene tape, because it wasn’t a crime scene any longer. Was it ever? I pulled off to the shoulder of the road and asked Piper, “Can you get out on your side?”
She opened the door and looked. “I’m good.”
I put the car in park, but left the keys in the ignition. I should get so lucky as to have someone try to steal it.
Piper got out and came around the side of the road. We looked both ways for traffic, then walked across the asphalt to the dirt driveway on the opposite side of the road. Nothing much to see but some tire tracks, smashed grass and weeds from someone driving their car over it, and footprints. Lots of footprints.
Piper pulled her DSLR camera from her backpack and placed the backpack on the edge of the asphalt. She crouched low to get photos of the tire tracks and footprints. With so many prints, I didn’t know how she was going to differentiate them.
“That’s a lot of shoe prints,” I said.
“Yeah, but cops wear a specific kind of work boot, and detectives have their favorite work footwear. I can easily go visit the homicide division and rule those prints out, and I can also tell which are uniform officers’ boots.”
That made a lot of sense, but it didn’t account for anyone, like us, snooping around.
Piper moved from the dirt to the grass when a woman crossed the street, headed right toward us.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
She wore yoga leggings with Harry Potter images splattered all over the navy-blue background and an oversized T-shirt that she must have thought concealed her huge boobs, but only made her look fat and frumpy, and she definitely wasn’t fat. I thought they stopped making Crocs a few decades ago, but she wore hot pink ones, and her mousy brown hair hung to her shoulders and blew across her face in the light breeze. She was pretty, in a mom who was too tired to care kind of way.
“Hi, I’m private detective Mimi Capurro,” I said without extending a hand. Mom germs scared me. I never got sick except when I hung around little kids, which I avoided as much as possible.
“Whatever,” she snapped back. “What are you doing here?”
Piper stepped up. “Excuse me, is this your property?”
“It is not, but it is my neighborhood,” she said, not happy with Piper’s question.
“Well, if it’s not your property, what we’re doing here is none of your concern. If we were cops in uniform, would you have stormed over here and barged into our investigation?”
She was taken aback at P
iper’s question. “Well…I… um, there was a death right here a few days ago. I found the woman in her car. Late at night. And it’s strange you’re here snooping, that’s all.”
“And that’s exactly what we’re doing,” Piper admitted in a condescending voice.
I’d never heard her so snarky and pompous. She even had me on my heels.
“We were hired to investigate the death of the woman, the one you said you found,” I said in a lighter, friendlier tone. I looked at Piper, shooting daggers at her for being so snippy.
“I’m the one who called 911,” she said to me, ignoring Piper.
“So, you heard the gunshots?” I asked. I deliberately said it as gunshots, plural.
“Yeah, I know I heard one, maybe two. I’m not sure I told that to the police. That’s not unusual out here. Coyotes and all, you hear gunshots all the time. It’s not like in town, where it would be a big deal.”
“You think you heard more than one?” Piper’s attitude made a huge adjustment.
The woman continued to address me, but she answered Piper’s question. “I can’t be sure. I wasn’t really paying attention. The gunshots were a lot earlier in the evening. It was later that I seen the headlights across the street. Through the hedges.” She pointed to the line of bushes at the edge of her property. “I seen them when I was cooking dinner, and they were still there when I did the dishes. It wasn’t until later, when I came into the kitchen to get a glass of wine, that I noticed the car still there.”
“What time was this?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I’m not really sure, but it was late. I think it was around 10:30 or so, after the news anyway. I grabbed a big flashlight and my rifle, and came out to see if the person needed help. Clearly, I was too late. That’s when I called the police.”
I’d need to scan the police report again, but it seemed as if she repeated the exact same story she’d offered in the 911 call and to the responding officers.
A Lie in Every Truth Page 10
