“What about your dad’s assistant?” she offered to Stephen but not to me. He shook his head.
“Nah, I don’t think so. I mean she was employed by him but now she’s outta work. Why would she kill the man who pays her wages?”
“Maybe because he’s worth more to her dead?” I offered. I was just trying to contribute to the conversation.
“What do you mean?” she asked me.
“Maybe Max left her some money?” I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m just saying.”
“You know that as a fact?” He asked.
“Yeah I do. Does that change your mind?” He looked down and thought for a while. Maybe he chewed on his lip, I couldn’t tell. Maybe he was trying to make sense of things. Like I was.
“Yeah maybe it does change things. Maybe he was fucking her too.”
“Or maybe he was making love to her.” Sometimes I’m facetious. He got it though, he smirked. She giggled.
“Yeah, maybe he did. Maybe she would kill him. Only she wasn’t often at our house. I can only remember her there a couple of times. Maybe three.”
“How long was she employed by your father?”
“I don’t know, three, maybe four years. I didn’t really give a shit, so I wouldn’t rely on my input.”
On the tally I was loosely keeping in the back of my mind someplace I added half a point to Sulan Lui.
“Okay. What about your mother, Stephen? I heard that she was the first found at the scene. Did your mother and father have a strained relationship? Do you think she might have done it?”
I still thought she had as good a reason as anyone so far to do it. She would inherit the bulk of the estate if she didn’t get caught. There are lots of other suspects to cast doubt. And maybe Max was going to cut her off. Maybe he was falling for one of his floozies.
“No I don’t think so. I mean why would she?”
“To make sure she got the money she felt she was entitled to. I’ve heard that your father could divorce her without owing her much if it was found she was unfaithful. Seems it was apparent that a lot of people knew about her indiscretions. And let’s say he was having an affair with Sulan his assistant, or Maria. Maybe his feelings were really deepening with them. Maybe he wanted to get serious with one of them. How do you like them apples?’
He looked at Jezzie. Jezzie looked at Stevie, and I waited for someone to speak to me.
“Jesus man, you don’t make this stuff easy do you. I mean when you put it like that, then sure maybe Santa killed him because he was going to tell all the kids that Santa wasn’t real.”
“Maybe he was.” I wouldn’t put it past an old man in a funny costume to kill anyone. Especially if he wasn’t taking his psych meds. Anyway, I digress, that’s another story.
“All I know is that my parents were civil. They didn’t really fight that I can remember and there was kindness between them, even if they were all messed up. Maybe my father was in love with Sulan or maybe even Maria for that matter. But why would he divorce my mother now. They’ve had this kind of relationship for at least ten years or more that I can kinda remember. Besides I don’t think he’d totally leave her in the lurch. My dad wasn’t totally money hungry and stingy like that.”
“Well, maybe he wanted to wait until you were a grown man before he divorced your mother.”
He shook his head some more. He pushed another matted tail of hair from his forehead. It was hot in here. I felt sweat bubble at my temples. I was tempted to take a sip of water. But I couldn’t bring myself to it.
“Sure it all makes sense. But I just don’t believe it in my gut.”
“Okay Stephen. What about you Jezebel?”
She looked at me blankly and then opened her mouth a bit. Spittle was back. She blinked. I think she’d lost track of the conversation.
“I really don’t know these people so good. I wouldn’t feel comfortable saying anything about nobody.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
I put my fedora back on a damp head. I needed to see about a/c for my place. I’d seen in the paper this morning we could be in for a heat wave. They were calling for nineties today. Probably hundreds for the rest of the week. Makes it hard to be a gumshoe when it’s all hot and you’ve got to dress nice. Makes a guy less patient and cranky.
“You swear on your life you’re going straight.”
“Yeah, for sure. Seriously man. Trust us, we’ll make it.”
“Alright, I’m outta here. I’m going to speak to Gianni. Make it worth my while. I’ll be in touch, often.”
I opened the door and turned around to them. I touched my fedora.
“Hey thanks man. Really, thanks.”
I shut the door on their faces. I didn’t want to see them again. Not like that anyway. Next time a sober mind would clean up the place. We’ll see.
TEN
Contemplating Navels
I walked out to my car. I felt I had entered Dante’s Inferno. It was hot as a coal fired stove. Or so I imagined. I started my car and opened the windows. I cranked the a/c. Shouldn’t take long for a breath of cool air. I sat and watched Stevie and Jezzie’s place for several minutes. I was waiting for some inspiration. I was waiting for the a/c to crank harder. But really I was punch drunk from the hot sun. He was relentless and I was dog tired from his unblinking stare. I needed a pair of sunglasses. To hell with it if the gumshoes from yore never wore them. Time to mix the old school with the new school cool. Besides, frowning all the time was giving me a headache.
Nothing happened at their apartment for awhile so I got to thinking. I needed to see Gianni. I was going to procrastinate on that one. It was three eleven by the clock on the dash. Gianni probably wouldn’t be at Trattoria d’Italia much before four anyway. That’d give me time to stoke my appetite. Maybe he’d feed me. I thought I’d phone my buddy ol’ pal ‘Rotten’ John Roberts. I took out my phone and dialed his number.
“Captain John Roberts, homicide.”
“John its Anthony.”
“You’re not calling to tell me you’ve found another body buddy? I’m going to have to start suspecting you.”
“Ah come on. You’re hurting my feelings now. I’ve just had a lovely visit with Stephen Ernst. The old man’s son. Listen, I want to come and visit. Where are you?”
“Meet me at West LA station. I’ll be there in about a half hour.”
“Okay.”
We hung up on each other and I wondered why he was going to be working out of West LA and not Parker Center. Probably traffic. It would take me a good half hour if I was lucky. Maybe an hour with traffic coming along now. I decided I had to hustle. I figured on riding with Rosa Parks to the San Diego Freeway. Most direct but probably not the quickest. Time would tell. I pulled away from the curb taking one last look at one oh three. Still as quiet as church mice. Maybe that’s what they needed, some spiritual guidance. Didn’t think I could help them on that one. My flesh was strong but my spirit had grown weary. I moved onto other things. Didn’t feel like getting all maudlin about my spiritual poverty. Love that word maudlin. Heard it some place and it stuck with me. Figured I still needed to see Jane. I got to thinking she might be the butch dyke seeing as how feminine Vanessa was. But you couldn’t tell. Those stereotypes weren’t so relevant anymore I was finding.
I was hoping John could help throw me a bone on this one. It was still less than forty eight hours out from the first cull. He probably wasn’t having any better luck than I was. I looked at my potential perp list. I had Vanessa, as sweet and fine as she was. Maybe I had Jane. She could be a stronger candidate. Maybe she wanted to have Vanessa to herself. Maybe if Max was going to cut Vanessa loose she would have known about it and preempted him. That way keeping the money in Vanessa’s hands. Sounded nice and easy. Sounded just the way I wanted it to.
I still had my eye on Maria, but I wasn’t coming up with a good motive other than she could come into some money. That’s if she knew about it. I didn’t think it was pillow talk betwe
en Max and her. I figured that relationship was more strictly business in a sexual kind of way. Unless he was getting serious with her like Stevie suggested. But in that case she becomes moot. Why would she kill him if they were evolving a deeper relationship?
Stevie was out, so was Jezzie. At least so I figured. Their alibi wasn’t watertight but it seemed to play out with their general lifestyle. Sure he could’ve done it, he’s a big strapping lad. But I don’t think he has the motivation. Kids nowadays. No self discipline.
I liked the idea of Jade now that I came to think of her. A kooky actor typed could be just the kind to do it. That would button it up nicely. Nothing more than love spurned and work spurned. Those artsy types can get pretty emotional over their work I bet. Yeah I wouldn’t mind Jade having done that. I could wrap this thing up by happy hour tomorrow. Then go celebrating with Mr. Walker or Mr. Daniels and friends.
I still had to go see Gianni. He might shed some new light on things. I was afraid of that. It was bright enough with everything I had to juggle with at the moment. I didn’t need extra information to juggle. Now, I couldn’t see how they’d do it. That wasn’t their style, especially just for half a mill. And especially with a guy who had more than enough to pay them back with interest. Nah, they wouldn’t have done it. His death has just created more work for them. Now they’re having to lean on the kid and they probably aren’t happy about that. I don’t see them harming him either. Just trying to scare him into paying up. And it’s working too.
I wanted to go and visit Sulan too. Assistants are great resources of information. Could she have done it? Sure why not, crap I was beginning to think maybe I could’ve done it too. I’d go speak to her. Tomorrow if I could. She could have some interesting insight. Not that I wanted that too, but I had to stay ahead of John and the LAPD. Just so Jeff could have his spin doctors spinning the media dizzy by the time some of this craziness was leaked.
And then there was Lorenzo. One of my suspects now deceased. At least I could strike him off the list. Now that he was dead I wasn’t too concerned about him. But I couldn’t help wondering who had killed him? Was it someone new or the same person who killed Max? I liked to think it was someone different, maybe a botched burglary. Because if it was the same person, I couldn’t come up with a motive for why they’d both be murdered. Anyway, I had to focus on the Max homicide and I had to start getting answers.
ELEVEN
A Picture Tells A Thousand Words
I pulled up onto Butler avenue and then into visitor parking. I love police buildings. So avant-garde. Pushing the boundaries of architectural design. It was surprising to me that none of them had made it onto the cover of Architectural Digest. But maybe that’s just me.
I walked into the reception area and asked the officer for John Roberts. He wanted to know who I was. Jesus, you leave the department for a few years and nobody remembers your name. That blue line zips up tight behind you once you step out.
I took a seat and waited to be summoned like a kid playing hooky. I picked up the July issue of Police magazine with a daunting picture of a SWAT officer and his twelve gauge pointed just off the reader. I was reading about this new ammo they’d developed that delivers an electric charge like a Taser. I wanted to get one. The writer made it sound like a fairytale come true for cops. This would be all the buzz in cop circles in no time. What happened to good old police shootings where you fed the guy lead until he was dead? My how times have changed. Same bleeding heart liberals who didn’t want us smoking in public buildings so we couldn’t kill ourselves so quick, didn’t want us killing bad guys either. Not that that’s a bad thing. Not killing bad guys. But it has to be effective. And officer safety has got to come first. But before I had time to get engrossed in the article or my own thoughtful dialogue I heard a familiar voice call my name. And it wasn’t my last lover. No sir, that would’ve sounded warmer and smoother on the ears. And of course feminine. This was the gravelly voice from the past. I looked up.
“Johnny Rotten,” I said.
“Very funny Sid,” he said, “very vicious.” He smirked at me. It was a long standing joke between the two of us way back when we worked the street together.
“How’d you do with that Lorenzo fella I left you with this morning?”
“Couldn’t revive him,” he said. “He’d leaked out like a stuck pig by the time we got there. I’m surprised you hadn’t worked your magic on him.”
“I tried Johnny, I really did, but I didn’t want to mess with the crime scene and those shears got in the way from mouth to mouth. Besides, he wasn’t my type.”
John nodded thoughtfully for a few moments.
“So wiping his own blood on him is not messing with the crime scene?”
“Sorry,” I said. “What can I say, I’m a rookie in this game.”
“Rookie my ass.”
I followed him down the hall and into a closet that tried to look like an office. It had a desk and a chair and black filing cabinet. Two bricks and a ticky high. John asked me to wait a minute while he snooped around for another chair. He found one and rolled it in. We were stuck in that office elbow to ribs. We had the door left open to give us some breathing room.
“So how can I help you buddy?” he asked me. He was playing coy.
“Let’s cut the foreplay John. I want to know what you guys have so far?”
“Okay sure, I had forgotten that you were still one of us. That the city was still paying your mortgage.”
“I don’t have a mortgage. Couldn’t afford one on my private wages. Not like you, the big dick living large on a cop’s salary. I heard you put an offer in on that Ernst place we were at this morning.”
He laughed and slapped me on the shoulder.
“Shit, I miss you,” he said. “When are you going to come back?”
“I was thinking next week when the heat wave is over and hell freezes over.”
He laughed, but not so much at that.
“Seriously though,” I said. “Did you find anything out this morning.”
“Yeah we did Anthony. We found out that Lorenzo appeared to have died from either a blow to the head or a slash to the neck. We’re just waiting to hear back from the coroner on that one.”
My mind drifted back to this morning. A vision of Emily drifted into my mind. I still saw her firm bosom tight against her white blouse. I was trying to wonder what I had done with her business card. I think it was in my back pocket.
“Sid,” he said. “Vicious. Are you with me?”
The image of Emily vanished. I cursed under my breath. Focus Anthony.
“Yeah I’m here.”
“No you’re not. You didn’t get my sarcastic comment.”
“Sorry pal. But can’t go tossing around words like ‘coroner’ and not get a man to thinking lascivious things. Biblical things.”
I smiled at him. He dug into a black nylon courier bag on the floor by his legs. The desk was Spartan. A gray plastic cylinder held a few cheap pens. Blue ink most of them. The desk was fake dark wood with two metal drawers hanging below its right side. These were making awkward work for my legs. There was a cheap lamp with a yellowed shade covering its bald bulb. The shade had a pin stuck in. Something about the World Police and Fire games from what I could read. Next to the lamp was a phone. Standard issue for government buildings. Black with a few buttons on it more than for dialing. John pulled out a thin manila folder from the bag and placed it on the desk. I was glad he was making great strides on this case.
“Why you guys investigating this from Beverly Hills?” I asked.
“They don’t have the manpower, and the family has requested us on this one. Everyone’s happy with it.”
“I’m impressed John. I can see you’ve made great inroads on this case. The folder is bursting. Can I take a peek?”
“Funny, if you continue like that I’ll give you a peek of the front door again.”
I smiled at him. Always the joker.
“What have you
got anyway, Anthony?”
I shifted back in my chair, giving my legs a little bit more room. I leaned back into it and put my hands on the plastic armrests. Someone had gouged out the sides of them. They felt coarse like calluses. I looked at John leaning back in my chair like I had something of great importance to tell him. I sucked in some air, steadied my gaze at him and said, “nothing. Sorry pal, I’m just a gumshoe, I’ve got nothing.”
He put his foot on one of the tentacled legs of the chair and pushed me out the door. His brown loafer pointed after me.
“Well,” I said wheeling myself back in using my feet as oars. “I just came by from seeing junior and his lovely bride. Well not really his bride but you know what I mean. You spoken to them yet?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think we’re interested in what he has to say.”
“What if I told you that he confessed to me this morning? And I didn’t have to beat it out of him. Or at least he just got a little bit of a boo boo on his lip.”
“I’d say you were lying and you’ve just come to waste my time and the money of decent, hardworking, tax paying, law abiding citizens of LA.”
“I’d say Johnny, come on down we have a winner.”
“Okay, enough with the bullshit. What did your meeting with Stephen uncover?”
“Not much actually. He’s got a Swiss cheese alibi and a stoner girlfriend that only a mother could love. Although he seems into her. It’s sad really. They need to clean up but I don’t think he killed his father or Lorenzo for that matter either.”
John nodded and rested his forearm on the folder on the desk. He wasn’t going to play peek-a-boo with me just yet.
“I told them to smarten up and get their lives back in order. I don’t know why. Maybe something about their young love warmed the cockles of my heart. Maybe I’m getting sentimental or senile in my old age. Maybe my mother never loved me enough and I’m hell bent on pleasing other people for the rest of my life.”
Anthony Carrick Hardboiled Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3) Page 10
