by Lynn Bulock
I excused myself to go repair the damage. With what my purse held, I could do a little to better my appearance, anyway. Somehow I didn’t think Ray would miss me nearly as much after this lunch. When I said something to that effect as we left the restaurant he put an arm around me. “I know, PDA is the kind we should be avoiding, but I can’t help myself.” His arm around me felt so good I had to fight leaning into it. “I’m beginning to think you’re going to be a necessary information conduit for me in this case. And I’ll miss you just as much this afternoon as I did this morning.”
He put me in his car and drove me home, both of us saying little. I don’t know about Ray, but I spent the time thinking a lot and trying to figure out just how things changed between us during lunch. He parked in the driveway next to my apartment before I realized we had arrived. “I think kissing you goodbye would be a very bad idea right now,” he said, voice husky.
“I’m afraid you’re right. For now we need to keep things a little bit more detached, at least until this case is over one way or another.”
He looked at me more intensely, quirking one eyebrow. “What’s up? That’s the first time I’ve heard you say something besides strongly declaring Mr. Harris’s innocence.”
“I still think he didn’t kill Nicole. But I’m also pretty sure that there are things he’s not telling you, or even me that have bearing on the case.”
“Now you’re beginning to sound like me. That’s a little scary, Gracie.” I got out of the car before I had to admit what I found even scarier; I really wanted Ray to stay and discuss all kinds of things that didn’t have anything to do with this case, or maybe discuss absolutely nothing for a while instead.
When I’d gotten halfway up the stairs he rolled down his car window. “Call me if you want to. And I’ll call you once your ex has come in for his interview Monday morning, if I know anything I can share.”
“Please do. Have a good weekend.”
“I’ll try.” He waved and the window slid most of the way up, and then Ray was gone. Since Ben’s car was still gone, I expected the empty apartment that greeted me. Now felt like a good time to get back in touch with the rest of the world, so I turned on my cell phone and went to see whose messages I’d missed on the answering machine.
Between the two phones there were several hang-ups or sales pitches, four calls from Ray and three from Hal. Ray’s messages mostly said little; just that he had a few questions I could help him answer. The only different piece of news he gave me was that Zoë would remain in police custody for a while, charged for now with credit card fraud and theft. Hal’s messages got more involved with each one, starting with apologies for his mother’s behavior. On the last message he used as much time as the machine let him have.
“My parents are in their rental car driving up the coast to the Hearst Castle. They weren’t helping anything here, and even I needed a breather from my mother. I shudder to think what she might say at Nicole’s funeral. It looks like I’ll be allowed to go to that event as long as I don’t get arrested between now and Tuesday. And Ellie is threatening to come to the house and remove all of her daughter’s belongings. Needless to say I have a locksmith coming to change all the locks.” I could hear him sigh on the message. “Given Nicole’s propensity for losing stuff, there’s no telling how many keys to this house are floating around Ventura County.”
That gave me pause. So Hal knew about at least some of Nicole’s problems “mislaying” things. He didn’t sound happy about it, and I would still guess that he didn’t know about the car keys.
He asked me to call him when I could and hung up. That message had been left only half an hour before, while Ray and I ate fish tacos. I debated about when to call Hal back. I could only think of so much I could say to help him at this point and after the discussion at lunch I felt drained. The longer I stayed in the living room the more the couch called to me. A short nap couldn’t hurt, I told myself. A short nap probably wouldn’t have hurt, but the two hours I ended up dozing in an odd position left my neck stiff and my back complaining. At least when I woke up my emotional pain was far less than it had been earlier in the day.
After I made fresh coffee and drank a cup, I did something I’d never done before. I called Ben’s cell phone and asked him to relay a message to his father for me. “Tell him that I’ll call him after church tomorrow. Make sure he knows that I’m not abandoning him, I just need a little more time on my own.” In all the time I’d been a single parent I’d been careful never to put Ben in the middle of any situations with his father and me. This time I hoped they’d both understand.
*
In the morning I went to church, and even made the extra effort to go to Bible class instead of hanging out with my friends for coffee. I saw a few of them anyway because Dot and Linnette both attended the same Bible class I chose. Afterward we stood in one of the broad hallways at Conejo Chapel, out of the way of the worst traffic but still together. I filled them in on as much as I could, with both of them listening attentively. “So Zoë‘s in jail at least temporarily, but you don’t think Hal gave her the things she claims he did?” Linnette summarized.
“I don’t think he did on purpose, anyway. I can’t explain more than that because I’m not positive.” Saying it that way sounded more vague than it should have been, but it was the truth. “I need to talk to Hal again, and I’d like to find out more about Zoë.”
Dot nodded. “It sounds like she’s the key here, unless she’s just totally wrong about where the things she had came from.”
“That’s still a possibility. She’s not a well individual.” I’d seen enough just from her trips through the courtyard to know that Zoë had some serious problems.
Linnette leaned against the wall, looking thoughtful. “It’s true that she definitely has some challenges, but at least three-quarters of the time when I’ve been with her, Zoë‘s version of what goes on around her is pretty much on track. Now when it’s not, it’s really not. But what she’s said sounds like the truth as she knows it.”
I’d been afraid of that. Part of me wanted to side with Dot’s hope that Zoë had gotten Nicole’s things a totally different way, some way that didn’t implicate Hal in his fiancée’s death. He’d told me he had a good criminal lawyer, didn’t he? Surely he or she would give Hal far better advice than I ever could. Still, I promised I’d call him, and once I got home, I would.
“This is really taking a toll on you, isn’t it?” Linnette laid a hand on my shoulder. She wore a worried look that made me want to reassure her. She was right, though, and I admitted that to her.
“I think for your sake, and maybe for mine as one of her few friends, we ought to check out Zoë‘s story as much as we can. Do you think Detective Fernandez would find anything illegal in our doing that?” Linnette’s expression had changed from worried to merely thoughtful.
“I think we’d have to be very careful only to ask the kinds of questions a concerned citizen would ask about an acquaintance, and not cross the line into police territory.”
Linnette brightened. “Well, I am concerned about her. As part of my assigned goals for these group therapy sessions I’m supposed to get back into normal routines and exhibit healthy concern for others. Zoë‘s as good as anybody else for me to exhibit healthy concern about.”
“I don’t know what bothers me more the fact that I understand what you just said, or that I’m as eager as you are to do it.” Linnette and I started laughing, while Dot just looked on. The look on her face said that she might think we both needed a little more group therapy.
Before Linnette and I set out to try to find Zoë‘s friends or family, I finally made the call I’d promised to make. Hal sounded as depressed as I’d ever heard him. When I tried to apologize, he cut me off quickly. “Look, I understand, Gracie Lee. You’ve probably had your fill of this whole situation, and Mom’s comments were just the icing on the cake.”
“No, I’m not giving up on you. I’ll admit that my re
action to your mom was immature at best. She brings out the worst in me.” I wasn’t telling Hal anything new with that admission.
He gave a mirthless laugh. “She has that effect on a lot of people. I can’t tell you what your support means to me. I’ve thought a lot about what we prayed about Friday. And when I go into the sheriff’s station tomorrow I’m going to tell Detective Fernandez everything. It’s not like he’s going to use this information to malign Nicole, only to find the truth in what happened to her.”
“Amen to that. And hopefully finding the truth about what happened to her means that you will have a lot more peace in your life. I’ll keep praying for that.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” We said goodbye and I changed out of my church clothes. Something told me that my nice skirt and blouse wouldn’t win many friends in the places that Zoë and her friends spent their time.
I picked Linnette up at her house and she talked while I drove. “I called Monica, who I guess is my therapist now, and explained my interest in caring for Zoë if I could. She turned me over to one of the nurses, Catalina.”
“Right. I’ve met her, remember?”
“I do now. Anyway, Catalina said that due to privacy laws she couldn’t say anything particularly about Zoë. But she did say that many people with mental health problems live in one of the single-room hotels not too far from Playa del Sol that are filled with folks who are down on their luck.”
“That has to be a hard existence.”
“And that’s the easiest it ever gets for Zoë. Catalina then said that many of their homeless or nearly homeless patients often live together at Camp Freedom.”
The name rang a bell, but I couldn’t think of why and I told Linnette so. “We’ve talked about it at church, as a possible outreach location. It’s a place near the beach where the county is allowing a homeless encampment as long as things stay quiet. And that is our first stop.”
THIRTEEN
Camp Freedom wasn’t exactly what I expected. The county, on a contingency basis, had set aside a part of a large seaside park for the use of area homeless. There appeared to be about thirty people, many of them men who were probably Vietnam veterans. But while they might have been the majority, there were families and younger men and women on their own, as well. Several tents in good repair formed part of the encampment and even two “fifth-wheel” campers, both of which had seen better days, sat in among the tents.
I mentally chided myself for expecting more chaos when what I found was organization instead. People appeared to be working together, some cooking in one of the park fire pits with cast-iron skillets and pans while one young woman watched several children play on a swing set and three men sitting on old lawn chairs had a fairly loud discussion about something.
What surprised me most was that nobody looked or sounded scary or threatening, even the guys having their differences with each other. I felt embarrassed by my preconceived notions about what an encampment of homeless people, many of them mentally ill, might look like.
Linnette stood beside me as we took it all in. “Wow. Without medical insurance and an understanding boss, I could be in one of those tents,” she said soberly. “I think that’s why Zoë‘s problems disturb me.”
“Hey, there are a few more differences between you and Zoë than a little money and a decent job,” I argued. “You’ve got a supportive family and some good friends. You have an education and resources you can fall back on.”
Linnette looked at me, eyes a little misty. “Don’t you suppose Zoë might have had those things at one time? Depending on when she started showing signs of schizophrenia, she could have finished high school if not college, and lived the same kind of life you and I have for quite a while.”
“You’ve thought about this a fair amount, haven’t you?” I could picture Linnette lying awake at night, worrying about things like this. It made me want to hug her. Now probably wasn’t the time, since we needed to start looking for someone who might know Zoë.
It didn’t take long, by asking a few questions to the people who looked the most receptive, for someone to direct us to Joshua. If Camp Freedom had a mayor, it would be Joshua. I wasn’t about to ask what the last name of the imposing man barbecuing hot dogs was, because everyone there called him by the one name. I had to admit that he looked a lot like an Old Testament prophet, other than the fact that this man wore a ragged UCLA sweatshirt and brown plaid pants.
Linnette took the lead as we approached him. “You Salvation Army?” he asked, eyeing us suspiciously. “If you are, you can clear out now. Everybody here is happy living here and they’ve got their reasons not to go to a shelter.”
“No, we’re not from Salvation Army or any other group like that. We’re looking for people who might know Zoë McNamara.” As Linnette spoke it dawned on me that this was the first time I’d ever heard Zoë‘s full name.
Joshua still looked at us as though we might steal his barbecue. “I might know her. Then again I might not. What do you want from her?”
“Nothing. I’m in her group therapy sessions at Playa del Sol and I know she’s been arrested. I’m trying to find out where she spent a couple of nights last week.”
His dark eyes narrowed to slits below his bushy gray eyebrows. “You a cop, then?”
“No, just another outpatient at Playa del Sol. I’ll show you my ID if you like.”
Linnette found her driver’s license and showed it to him. He held it in one work-worn hand, eyes moving back and forth between the card and Linnette’s face. “Okay. Thanks.” He handed it back to her. “So why are you asking about Zoë?”
“Because she’s involved in a murder investigation and her story may be the thing that either frees or convicts somebody.”
He went back to grilling for a minute, turning the hot dogs before they burned. “I have to think it’s somebody you two care about. Otherwise you wouldn’t be down here talking to the likes of us.”
“I might argue with that. Talking to you already makes me want to come back when I’ve got more time.”
“Me, too.” Both of them looked at me as if surprised I could speak. Seeing the encampment and talking to Joshua gave me a whole different perspective on Zoë. “But I want to ask something now, too. Did Zoë fit in here? Did she have somebody who looked out for her?”
“She fit in as well as anybody else. Better when she took her meds, worse when she didn’t.” Joshua went back to his grilling, then turned and called to one of the women. “These are about done. Anybody got a plate?”
She nodded and ducked into one of the fifth-wheel campers. Walking briskly over to us, the young woman handed Joshua a blue-and-white plate that looked like the “unbreakable” dishes Ben and I used after the divorce until he got old enough that I could buy something a little more delicate. “Sunshine here could tell you as much about Zoë as anybody.” She ducked back a little when Joshua mentioned her name. “It’s okay. They’re not cops or from a shelter or anything. You can talk to them.”
She still held back a little, like a dog who’s been kicked enough to be wary of everyone. “I’m in therapy with Zoë at Playa del Sol,” Linnette said softly. That made Sunshine step a little closer, as if Linnette said the magic password. “Could we sit over there and talk a little?” She indicated the three lawn chairs that for the present were empty.
“Sure. But if Arnie and Gus come back, we’ve gotta give them back their chairs.”
“Definitely,” Linnette agreed. Then we sat down together and drew closer than the men had arranged the chairs. For a few minutes Linnette just talked about Zoë, how they’d gone to group therapy together, how she usually acted and what Zoë wore once she’d left the hospital. All the time Sunshine’s long, slender fingers picked at her jeans, searching for loose threads and worn spots in the weave while she watched Linnette’s face. “Last week Zoë was different. She seemed calmer and she followed our therapist around. Would you know anything about that?”
Sunshine stopped ma
king eye contact. “She came back from the hospital and she was pretty healthy, for her. Zoë hears a lot of voices when she doesn’t take her meds. But when she goes in, like she says, for a ‘tune-up,’ she stops talking about the agents for a while. She spent one night here, in my tent, after she got out. Then the next day me and her were up on Main Street, trying to get some spare change for food and this lady came up to her.”
“What did she look like?”
“Young. Real skinny. She had dark, shiny hair and didn’t look happy. She told Zoë that she shouldn’t be out on the street like that. Zoë told her she didn’t have no place else to go. The lady looked real worried, and she looked all around, kinda like Zoë does when she’s hearing the agents. Then the lady said Zoë should come with her. It was the last I saw of her for three or four days.”
“Was she all right when she came back?” Linnette kept her gaze focused on Sunshine’s face.
The girl, who looked much younger than Nicole, lifted one shoulder in a partial shrug. “I guess so. She wasn’t hearing the voices yet. And she was dressed real nice. I think the lady must have given her stuff of hers, cause everything matched and it was pretty clean. Zoë even had a brand-new jacket.”
“Did she say anything about that?”
Sunshine looked down at the patchy grass between our feet. “Only that somebody gave it to her. And it had stuff in the pockets. That night she bought us both dinner from the 7-Eleven with the change she had. After that she didn’t go looking for loose change with me on Main Street no more. One day she brought me a sweater. Do you think I can keep it?”
Her green eyes were large and worried-looking. “For now, anyway,” Linnette told her gently. “When was the last time you saw her?”
