Beneath the Bleak New Moon

by Debra Purdy Kong

  “Sorry.” She put her arms around her mother. “Listen, I’ll pop by later today. Promise.”

  “Please don’t make trouble,” Ivy said.

  “I won’t.” Danielle gave her mother a tight hug, whispered something in her ear, and then escorted her to the door. With a brief wave, Ivy left the room.

  “Why don’t you come see Kumar with me?” Danielle said to Casey.

  “Is there any way I can talk you out of this?”

  “Probably not.”

  Casey sighed. “Fine, I’ll go.” Someone had to keep Danielle from doing something stupid, and Casey didn’t have confidence that Virginia would take on that role. Besides, she was curious to see how Kumar responded to Danielle.

  “Any word on what Morris Mueller’s been up to, or Eagle?” Danielle asked.

  After Casey updated her on recent developments, Danielle smiled. “One by one, these losers are going down. Let’s go see the shithead who killed my brother.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  WITH GROWING TREPIDATION, CASEY FOLLOWED Danielle and Virginia down the hospital corridor. She didn’t like the way Danielle’s fingers twitched, or her apparent hostility. It was like watching a hungry dog hunt for food. When they reached the nurse’s station, Danielle smiled and asked for directions to Kumar’s room.

  The nurse peered at all three of them over the top of her glasses. “Mr. Kumar’s due for some tests in a few minutes. Are you family?”

  “Friends, and we’ll only be two minutes. I just want to say hi and let him know I’ve been thinking about him,” Danielle replied.

  Casey glanced at Virginia, who stood on the other side of Danielle. Back straight and hands at her sides, Virginia kept her expressionless face toward the nurse.

  “If you can get past the officer posted at the door, then you can have five minutes,” the nurse said. “The man never stops drinking coffee and takes a lot of bathroom breaks, so it shouldn’t be hard.”

  “Is Bashir awake?” Danielle asked.

  “The painkillers make him groggy and a bit incoherent, but he seems to understand what we’re saying.”

  Danielle beamed. “Good.”

  They headed down the hall, passing a tall metal cart filled with trays of food. Casey smelled chicken and overcooked broccoli.

  “Why a cop?” Virginia muttered. “It isn’t as if Kumar can jump up and run away.”

  “Maybe they’re worried that someone will help him bust out.” Danielle scanned the room numbers. “Let’s face it, the loser will be charged with something, and he has enough money to hire guys to watch his back.”

  Casey spotted an empty chair opposite a closed door.

  Danielle charged ahead and read the room number. “This is it.” She peeked inside. “He’s alone. Come on.”

  Casey and Virginia exchanged cautious glances as they followed Danielle into a private room. Virginia closed the door behind them. Kumar was on his back, attached to an IV and a heart-rate monitor. God, the man was all casts, tubes, and machines. His face and finger­tips were the only parts of him exposed to the air. When he heard their footsteps, his eyelids flickered.

  “How sweet is this?” Danielle remarked. “Roadkill almost became roadkill.”

  Casey stood on one side of Danielle, while Virginia took the other. Kumar slowly opened his eyes and turned his head just enough to see Danielle.

  “Hello, Speed Demon.” She gave him a chilly smile. “You’re done, you murdering freak.”

  He blinked at her. “Who’re you?”

  “I’m the one who’s going to make sure you rot in jail.”

  He closed his eyes and turned his head toward the window.

  “The cops know you ran Ben Carpenter off the road three years ago,” Danielle went on. “Richie Kim told them.” Kumar didn’t respond. “Are you listening, you piece of shit?” Danielle stepped close enough to touch the cast on his arm. “You raced Ben on Georgia Street toward the Stanley Park causeway. You swerved into Ben, forcing him off the road. He and Richie went through the windshield, and I bet you didn’t even bother to slow down because winning was all that mattered, right?” Rage swirled around Danielle like an electrical charge. She leaned forward until she was within a hair’s breadth of Kumar’s head. “Don’t try to deny it, asshole.”

  “Fuck off,” Kumar mumbled.

  “You’re a killer, you pathetic loser, and I’m going to make sure you pay.” Danielle raised her arm, but Virginia gripped it before she could strike Kumar.

  “It doesn’t matter what he says,” a familiar voice said from behind them.

  Casey turned to find Liam MacKenna, in uniform, standing in the doorway. That he was the one posted outside the door didn’t surprise her. The guy probably couldn’t wait to extract a confession from Kumar. MacKenna gave Casey an icy stare before zeroing in on Danielle. “What are you doing here?”

  “Back at ya,” she replied. “Babysitting’s a bit beneath you, isn’t it?”

  “This is a special situation.” MacKenna strolled into the room. “It looks like our boy’s more alert.”

  “He’s the one who ran Ben off the road that night, right?” Danielle asked.

  “It appears so.” MacKenna glanced at Kumar. “We located the car Kumar was driving when your brother crashed.”

  “Awesome!” Danielle said, gripping Virginia’s arm. “How did you find it?”

  Casey spotted Kumar watching MacKenna.

  “Our friend here’s racked up a mess of driving infractions over the past five years,” MacKenna replied. “Six months before your brother’s crash, we impounded Kumar’s car for a few days.”

  Casey smiled as the digits on Kumar’s heart-rate monitor began to jump.

  “We just learned that a week after the crash, Kumar sold his shiny red Corvette for dirt cheap because the right fender was damaged.”

  Danielle looked at MacKenna with disdain. “What took you so long to find this out?”

  “We were led to believe that the vehicle had been sold before the crash to a buyer in the States. The paper trail was fake.” He shook his head. “All I can say is that I was a rookie who had no say in how things were handled.”

  “You mean investigating officers dropped the ball,” Virginia remarked.

  “I’m just sayin’ that we’re not frigging psychics. The point is, we’ve got him now, and here comes the good part,” MacKenna replied. “The new owner was T-boned several weeks after he bought the car. Adjusters took pictures of the vehicle, including the damaged fender, which the owner couldn’t afford to fix when he bought it. The guy swears he had no idea the car had been involved in a fatal crash.”

  Kumar closed his eyes, while the digits on his heart monitor kept rising.

  “After your brother’s crash, red paint chips were taken off his car, analyzed, and the info entered into a database, which brings me to the big finale.” He winked at Danielle. “It matches the Corvette. The adjusters’ photos show exactly where paint was missing from the fender.”

  “That still doesn’t put this jerk behind the wheel,” Virginia said.

  Kumar’s jaw tightened, but his eyes remained shut.

  “Richie’s statement does,” Danielle said. “Maybe he’s not the only one who knows the truth.” She glared at Kumar. “I bet Speed Demon’s made a few enemies who might be willing to talk.”

  Kumar opened his eyes and returned her hate-filled stare.

  “This guy could be facing a few murder charges,” Virginia remarked.

  Kumar lifted his head as far as he could. “He hit my car . . . lost control.”

  “Then why did you threaten to kill Richie and his family if he told anyone about it?”

  “Didn’t.” Kumar collapsed back on his pillow.

  “Okay, ladies.” MacKenna clapped his hands and stepped in front of them. “Time to go.”

  “Make him tell the truth!” Danielle’s eyes blazed. “I bet he mowed down those other people, too.”

  “Come on, Danni. Chill.” V
irginia put her arm around Danielle. “They’ve got him, and he’s not going anywhere.”

  “Didn’t kill anyone,” Kumar said, licking his lips.

  “Yeah, right.” Danielle glared at him. “It’s just a big coincidence that there’ve been no hit and runs since you’ve been in the hospital.”

  “Garage,” he mumbled.

  Danielle frowned. “You mean Dominic’s garage?”

  “M and M’s.” Kumar winced, as if hit with a spasm of pain. “His uncle’s.”

  Danielle leaned closer. “What about it?”

  Kumar’s IV started beeping. The smaller bag was nearly empty, but the larger bag was still half full.

  MacKenna moved closer to him. “What’s the garage called?”

  Kumar’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned. “Clint.”

  Most cops didn’t reveal much in their faces or body language, but Casey had worked with enough of them to recognize subtle changes. MacKenna stood a tiny bit straighter.

  “What about the garage?” Danielle asked.

  Before Kumar could answer, the nurse came in, carrying a fresh IV bag. “You were supposed to be five minutes. I need everyone to leave now, please.”

  Virginia took Danielle by the arm and pulled her into the corridor. Casey followed, aware that MacKenna was close behind.

  “Any idea what’s up with the garage?” Casey asked him.

  MacKenna put his hands on his hips. “How many times do I have to tell you people that this isn’t your concern?”

  “I’m not leaving without answers,” Danielle shot back. “So please, just tell me what made you so sure that Richie knew who ran him and Ben off the road, or had you just hoped he did?”

  MacKenna let out a long sigh. “The kid got nervous whenever I asked him about it. When I heard about his connection to Roadkill, I figured he knew others who remembered that night.”

  “And you decided to make your presence known.” Danielle nodded. “Thanks for not giving up.”

  He shrugged. “I told your folks I’d find out what happened that night, and I don’t quit, ever.”

  Danielle’s expression softened. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now go home.” He headed back inside Kumar’s room.

  Danielle gazed at the closed door for a few moments before heading down the hall. She said nothing until she reached elevator. “Good cop.” She pressed the button. “But still an A-hole.”

  “You’re going home now, aren’t you?” Casey asked.

  “As soon as I look up an address.”

  Oh, no. Hadn’t this girl learned anything?

  “Danni, I have to be at work soon,” Virginia said.

  “We have time.”

  No one spoke as they rode to the main floor, but Casey again felt the tension. This time it came from Virginia. They stepped onto the main floor. Danielle marched toward the information desk and asked for the phone book.

  “Danni, we are not going there,” Virginia said.

  Danielle took the book from the receptionist and flipped through it until she found what she was looking for. “Clint’s Collision.” She read the address aloud. “We’ll just drive by. The place is practically on the way home.”

  “No, Danni.”

  “I promise I won’t go in. I just want to see if they do body work.” Danielle turned to Casey. “Want to tag along?”

  “Sure.” Casey was curious, and until an arrest was made for the hit and runs, Danielle needed to be watched more than ever.

  Virginia said, “The place might not have anything to do with Kumar’s Corvette. He might not have anything to do with the pedestrians getting hit at all.”

  “I know,” Danielle murmured. “The black car that hit Beatrice Dunning was never reported stolen and never found. Which means, it could have been fixed right away by someone friendly with racers. Mueller drives a black BMW.”

  “As far as I know, the make of the first hit-and-run vehicle has never been established, and Mueller’s car was never confiscated by police. There’s no evidence pointing to him,” Casey said.

  “Mueller could have been driving something else that night,” Danielle replied. “Harvey was using his dad’s car.”

  Casey shook her head. “If the uncle’s covering for his nephew, he sure as hell won’t talk, and he’ll be suspicious of strangers loitering near his shop.”

  “Like I said, I’ll only take a quick look,” Danielle replied. “If Mueller’s there, we’ll leave right away.”

  Casey and Virginia exchanged suspicious glances. If Mueller was there, they’d all be in trouble.

  TWENTY-NINE

  THROUGH THE DRIZZLE MISTING HER windshield, Casey studied Clint’s Collision. She’d pulled into the parking lot of a tattoo parlor across the street from the body shop, while Virginia had parallel parked on the road in front of a motorcycle retailer. Beside the retailer were a pawnshop and a tool repair place, both looking a little run down.

  The headlights of Virginia’s Jeep were off, but the wipers were on. They’d all been watching the place for ten minutes, but nothing interesting had happened, and probably wouldn’t; not in the middle of the day with customers coming and going. Casey wanted to leave but wouldn’t until Virginia left first.

  She studied the four open bays. Between bays two and three, a metal door remained shut. A small brick building marked PAINT SHOP stood to the far right of the main structure. Based on what she’d seen so far, Clint’s Collision specialized in repairing high-end vehicles. Her cell phone rang. It was Denver.

  “I just heard that you saw Kumar,” he said.

  Before Denver could lecture her for going there in the first place, Casey said, “Did MacKenna tell you about Mueller’s connection to a body shop called Clint’s Collision?”

  “I knew about it. Why?”

  He wouldn’t be happy if he knew she was staring at the place. “Just wondering if it’s involved with what’s been going on.”

  Denver didn’t answer right away. “The media’s picked it up, so you might as well know that the Carrall Street victims were hit by a car stolen from Clint’s Collision.”

  “Oh my god. It’s Mueller, isn’t it? He’s the one mowing people down.”

  “That’s too big of a leap without more evidence. The killer could be an employee or a friend of the racers.”

  Casey counted five mechanics, three of them young enough to be racers. Nearby, a tall, lanky man carrying a clipboard approached one of the mechanics. Was he Mueller’s uncle? The white hair plastered to his head made him look old enough.

  “Now that Kumar’s been arrested, do you think Eagle will say more about the hit and runs?” she asked.

  “His lawyer says the kid will talk under certain conditions.”

  The Jeep’s headlights came on. “Will you tell me what he says?”

  “That depends on what it is. Listen, I’ve got to go. Stay out of trouble, okay? MacKenna hates that you keep showing up.”

  “I’m not crazy about it either. Talk to you later.”

  Casey was about to call Virginia’s cell when her phone rang again.

  “We’re taking off,” Danielle said.

  “Good. What’s next for you?”

  Danielle paused. “I’m going to write about my brother.”

  “I look forward to reading it.”

  Casey didn’t have to be on the M7 bus for another three hours, but there was a term paper due and other chores to be done. Maybe she should call Lou. They hadn’t talked much since he’d changed his mind about moving in. She could invite him over for a late supper after work and try to put things right. She’d thought about asking Lou to reconsider his decision, but life had gotten crazy, or so she kept telling herself. The truth was, she’d been afraid he’d turn her down. Maybe if she was more forthcoming about how she’d lost interest in her marriage. She needed to share her deepest fears and hope Lou wouldn’t think less of her afterward.

  OH, NO. NOW what? She’d finally mustered up some courage
and asked Lou to meet her after work, so why was he boarding the bus here? Had he changed his mind about her dinner invitation?

  Greg swiveled in his seat and scowled at Lou, who ignored him as he waved to Casey. Lou’s tentative smile made her stomach muscles clench and her heart begin to pound. He wasn’t going to break up with her, was he? Not in front of her ex.

  “This is a surprise.” She tried to sound cheerful.

  Lou sat down beside her. “I didn’t want to wait till dinner to see you.”

  Casey squeezed his hand, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. “You look exhausted.”

  “Haven’t slept well lately. Lots on my mind.”

  Casey kept her grip on his hand, afraid to ask what he’d been thinking about. The twins would be boarding soon, and she needed to focus on them.

  Lou glanced at the other passengers before his pensive eyes turned to her. “I’ve been worried that you’re furious with me for changing my mind and was wondering if you invited me to dinner to break up?”

  “God no!” She squeezed his hand harder. “The dinner was to persuade you to reconsider your decision.”

  “Really?” Lou started to smile. “That’s great, but could you ease up on my hand? It’s starting to bruise.”

  Casey let go as Greg pulled up to the Granville and Sixteenth Avenue stop. Paige and Lara boarded, flashing their passes at Greg. Casey wished the girls would sit reasonably far away, but when they spotted her and Lou, they took the nearest available seat, three rows up and across the aisle.

  “Have they been behaving?” he murmured.

  “Yes, but I’m not sure it’ll last.” She turned to him. “Listen, I’m so sorry for screwing up. I was too involved with the street-racing mess and Danielle. I need to tell you something about Greg and I—about our past—but it’s too complicated to discuss now.”

  “Can you give me a condensed version?”

  Since Casey wanted this resolved too, she whispered, “When Greg and I broke up, I wasn’t all that upset.”

  Lou gave her a puzzled look. “I was there, Casey. You were hurt.”

  “You saw hurt pride. The truth is, I didn’t love Greg enough by then to be that upset about him and Tina.” Casey returned Lara’s stare until the girl looked away. “I scarcely paid attention to him those last two or three years. Letting Greg stay in the house after I ended our marriage was to ease my guilt as much as anything. It’s something I’ve barely admitted to myself, let alone anyone else.”