by Anna Burke
Roger had something that got him killed. They wanted it back and the guy in the pantyhose had failed to retrieve it, thanks to the fact that Jessica and Jerry had interrupted his search. Now, apparently, she was on the list of people who might have “it” whatever “it” was. Perhaps anyone associated with Roger or Laura was on that list at this point.
Clearly somebody had followed her to El Paseo. The guy in the Bruno Maglis was waiting for her. He was at the right car all along—her car. She just wasn’t supposed to have seen him. In her distraction she had thrown his plan out of whack enough to get him to reveal himself. Still, his effort to grab her, or her purse, or her and her purse, probably would have succeeded without intervention by the police.
Jessica picked up the pace. She turned onto Dinah Shore, only a few miles from home at this point. Jessica checked her rearview mirror, compulsively, the rest of the way home. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she looked anyway, until she was safely ensconced behind the gates in Mission Hills.
In the garage, she rested her head on her hands, still gripping the steering wheel. Jessica tried to compose herself before going into the house and meeting up with Bernadette or Laura. She picked up the plastic evidence bag and climbed gingerly out of her car. She tried smoothing her dress. A lot of good that would do, given her disheveled state. Standing up as straight as she could manage she walked into the house, “ow, ow, ow” she mumbled, shuffling in the booties to the door. Of course Bernadette was standing in the kitchen. The look of horror on her face said it all.
“So how was lunch with the handsome lawyer?” was all she said before Jessica burst into tears. Bernadette rushed to Jessica’s side, brushing her hair back from her face, using a tissue to wipe away her tears and the mascara carried with them. She took the plastic bag Jessica was clenching, and placed it on the island in the kitchen. The lone shoe in the plastic bag caused Bernadette to take a closer look at the booties on Jessica’s feet. Her eyes wandered up, stopped at the bloodied shreds of pantyhose and continued, taking in the filthy dress hanging on Jessica at an odd angle.
“Dios, mio, niña.! Lo que esta pasando? What is going on? Tommy and Jerry got here a little while ago looking like the two of them had seen a ghost or somethin’!” Bernadette exclaimed as she went through the drill. She put two aspirin and a glass of water into Jessica’s shaky hands. The cool water steadied Jessica’s shattered nerves.
“Thanks, Bernadette. Lunch was fine until some rat bastard. Yes, I said rat bastard, Bernadette, jumped me in the parking lot. He tried to steal my purse.” She realized she had raised her voice to a pitch that was somewhere between a rant and a whine. Lowering her voice she added, “I already heard Tommy and Jerry had some trouble today too.”
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Tommy, Jerry, get in here, now!” Bernadette shouted.
Hearing her command, Tommy and Jerry rushed in from the patio. They both stopped and stared, open-mouthed, at Jessica.
“Oh my God, Jessica, isn’t that a Max Mara dress?”
“It was a Max Mara dress, Tommy, and I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Tommy rushed over to give Jessica a hug.
“Easy, Tommy, I hurt in a lot of new places. I’m not sure how that’s even possible.”
“I’m sorry Jessica. I’m kind of shook up too, you know, after what we found at Eric’s apartment.”
“So I heard, from our friend Detective Hernandez,” Jessica said, wincing as she shifted her weight to set the empty water glass on the kitchen counter.
“Laura’s kind of freaked out about it. She had to go lie down when we told her what happened.”
“Aye, que Dios mio,” Bernadette said crossing herself. “When what happened?” Bernadette asked.
“Nobody tells me nuthin’ around here.” She shook her head, looked up and crossed herself again. “Maybe I don’t wanna know. Do I wanna know?” she asked, looking at each one of them.
“Want to know what?” They all jumped at the sound of Brien’s voice. He was peering in at them from the patio. Tommy and Jerry had closed the screen door behind them when they rushed into the house. They had left the glass slider part way open, despite the fact that the air conditioner was whirring serenely. Jerry moved to the door, opening it so Brien could join them. This time he shut both doors.
“Thanks, man, I er uh...wow, Jessica! What happened now?”
“Well that is a good question, isn’t it? Some guy hated my dress but loved my bag so much he tried to take it for himself.”
Brien looked bewildered and confused.
“She got jumped again, Brien. We found two dead bodies,” said Tommy. “Detective Hernandez kind of yelled at us like we killed them or something. He’s pissed at you too, Jessica, says you’re a one-woman crime wave or something like that.”
Jessica wanted to feel indignant. She could sort of see what he meant, and she was too damn exhausted to care about the injustice of being both victim and pariah. She wanted to dash off to her room and dive into her bed. Dashing and diving were not options. Crawling was out too. Hobbling was about all she had left.
“We all do need to talk about what happened today. Bernadette, you definitely have to know what’s going on. I’m going to try to go clean myself up and then we’ll fill each other in on the trauma du jour. After we eat. Oh my God, Bernadette, I forgot to place our dinner order. I am so sorry. Are you guys willing to wait a little longer for dinner? If I place the order now we should still be able to get food here in an hour.”
“No te preoccupes, Jessica. These guys will help me fix dinner won’t you?” They all nodded in unison.
“Are you sure?” Jessica asked. Demoralized but grateful, Jessica picked up the plastic evidence bag with both hands, and took a couple cautious steps through the kitchen and toward the hallway to her room. Not too much pain, the aspirin had kicked in. She felt some twinges where the remnants of her pantyhose had started to stick to her skinned knees. Jessica looked down the hall. The door to her room seemed about a mile away. Bernadette took command as Jessica stood there, trying to work up her courage to cover the distance.
“Jerry, I bet you can handle a BBQ grill, si?”
“Sure, Bernadette, but I guess it depends what’s on the menu.” Jerry flashed that dazzling, sweet smile of his at Bernadette.
“Nothing fancy, steaks or burgers. Whatever you guys want. I’ve got both.”
“Both sounds like a good idea to me,” Brien offered. “I’m starved. All I had for lunch was a couple double western bacon cheeseburgers and some fries. That was hours ago, Mrs. B. I know my way around a BBQ, too, so I can give Jerry a hand.”
“That would be great, Brien. Since you had burgers for lunch, let’s cook the steaks for dinner. We’ll save the burgers for tomorrow. After the funeral we’re all coming back here for lunch. You guys go get the grill going. Put one side on high for the steaks and the other on medium so we can start some corn first. Jessica has had such a hard day. We’ll put peppers and onions and mushrooms on the grill for her, too. You love grilled vegetables don’t you Jessica?”
Jessica nodded, smiling in spite of her fatigue and disorientation. It had stunned her to realize it was dinner time already. Her forgetfulness about the promise she had made to Bernadette was unnerving. She must have gone into some kind of fugue state, no doubt near-shock from yet another assault. What a dumb idea to drive home like that since walking down the hall now seemed so daunting. She hobbled along, retreating from the hustle and bustle with as much dignity as she could muster.
“Ow, ow, ow,” she mumbled with each step. Behind her Bernadette issued directives.
“Tommy, you help me fix a salad while they’re getting the grill ready, okay? Brien, you take these chips and salsa out back with you so you won’t starve while we get the rest of dinner going.”
“Gee thanks, Mrs. B, you’re the best.”
“No doubt about that,” Jessica said as she made her way to her bedroom, crybaby tears rolling down her fac
e.
CHAPTER 27
Once in her room with the door closed, Jessica wriggled out of her Max Mara and tossed it into the trash can. This was getting to be a very bad habit. Sitting on the edge of her bed she carefully removed the booties, then, just as carefully, stood and removed the remnants of her shredded pantyhose. The gallant police officer had cut away the pantyhose on her injured foot so she was able to get them off without disturbing the bandage he’d put on. She decided to get out of the Spanx and put on a robe before taking a look at the cut on her foot.
Standing in front of the mirror naked, she hardly recognized the bedraggled woman staring back at her. Battered and bruised from head to toe, her body now fully reflected the status of her mind. Jessica pondered what she could do to get out of the hot water she was in. Suddenly, the phone rang. She felt dread as she pulled on the robe and answered the phone.
“Jessica speaking.”
“Detective Hernandez here Ms. Huntington-Harper.” Jessica’s heart sank, picking up the pace as it dove into the pit of her stomach.
“Yes, Detective Hernandez, how can I help you?” She moved to the chair near her bed and sat down, taking a couple calming breaths.
“How about you and your friends going a few days without stumbling into a crime scene. Two in one day has got to be pushing it even for you.” He sounded like a man trying to be stern, but too tired to pull it off.
“I went to El Paseo for lunch with a colleague. I wasn’t snooping.”
“I know, I know. But you must realize by now you’re in way over your head. You have got to lie low and let us try to sort this out.”
“I hear you,” Jessica replied, feeling dejected. When Detective Hernandez spoke again he sounded more subdued.
“That waiter your friend says she was with when her husband was killed turned up dead, along with his cousin.”
“I got your message from Officer Parker. Thank you for letting me know Jerry and Tommy were okay. Any idea what happened?”
“Nothing for sure, yet. They’d been dead for some time when they were found today. Whoever killed them cranked up the air conditioning so high it was like an ice box. That’ll make it harder to pinpoint time of death. A real professional job, Ms. Huntington-Harper. A couple shots to the head fired at close range, execution style, with what the coroner says was most likely a 9 mm weapon. They were roughed up pretty good before they were shot too. The apartment was thoroughly searched. Your hunch that Roger Stone had something someone wants sounds about right. Whoever did this is no pantyhose-wearing goofball. We got a hit from his DNA, by the way. He’s Carlos Ramirez, a low life from the 18th Street Gang in LA. That group has been linked to gangs in Mexico and Central America, and to the Armenian Power. It’s not too big a stretch to make the connection from him back to your Mr. Bedrossian.”
“I told you he’s not my Mr. Bedrossian, Detective Hernandez,” Jessica interjected wearily.
“My point is that you were lucky enough you weren’t hurt more seriously by that gangbanger. Just because he’s not too bright doesn’t mean he’s not a nasty s.o.b. We’ve got LAPD keeping an eye out for him and we’re looking locally for him too. If we can find him maybe he can shed some light on what’s going on. More importantly, Ms. Huntington-Harper, is the fact that this guy in the Bruno Magli shoes seemed to think you might have what they’re looking for. To me, he seems like a different class of bad guy altogether. The sort who packs a 9 mm rather than a Saturday night special picked up off the street somewhere, if you get my drift. If those two officers hadn’t shown up when they did I doubt very seriously we’d be having this conversation right now. Have you got that?” Jessica was listening intently and trying to remain calm. She gulped back the terror gripping her but didn’t say a word.
“You still there Ms. Huntington-Harper?”
“Yes, I’m here. I’m just not sure what to say.”
“Just say you’ll stay out of it. Stick close to home for the next few days. Can’t you and your friend go play golf or go to the spa or do something there in Mission Hills?”
“Sure—oh no, wait. The funeral’s tomorrow. Roger’s getting buried at Desert Memorial in the morning. Can you have somebody there to keep an eye on things? What if the guy with a 9 mm or the one in the Bruno Magli’s or that tattoo-sporting 18th Street guy shows up tomorrow. Shouldn’t someone be there to apprehend them?”
“I doubt any of these guys is going to make such a public display, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Detective Hernandez there’s one more thing. What do you make of the fact that they knew where I was today? And how did they know about Eric-the-waiter?”
“My guess is somebody has been tailing you and your rent-a-sleuth ever since you showed up at your friend’s house on Sunday when you bumped into that loser in the closet. Or maybe they didn’t get interested in you until you showed up, looking like hell, and introduced yourself to Bedrossian’s girlfriend. Who also turns out to be the guy your friend’s husband was working for when he turned up dead. But how do I know? You and your friends haven’t been too discreet in your inquiries the past few days.” He didn’t say it but Jessica knew what he was getting at. They had led the killers to that apartment on Avenida Caballeros. She said nothing. Finally Detective Hernandez broke the silence.
“Give me the info about the funeral service tomorrow and I’ll see if I can get a couple uniforms out there.” He was getting his second wind and revving back up into Cujo-mad-dog-barking mode.
Jessica gave him the info and hung up the phone, feeling sick about Eric-the-waiter. She gently pulled the tape away from her foot and removed the gauze bandage. Prepared for the worst, she was relieved that the cut was really pretty small, despite the fact that it had hurt like hell and bled all over the place.
Leaning back, Jessica rested her head on the back of the chair. Detective Hernandez had made his point. A couple of them, in fact. But she and Jerry weren’t the only ones inquiring about Eric. She reran the timeline in her mind. It was Sunday afternoon when she and Jerry ran into low life number one. They had presumed he was the culprit who killed Roger Friday night or Saturday morning. A .38 was a common weapon of choice for a street criminal, so that still made sense.
Whoever killed Eric and his cousin had used a 9 mm not a .38, so there was a second killer on the loose. No one knew, yet, when Eric and his cousin were killed. Nobody had seen either of them since Friday. Both were no shows at work on Sunday. So, it’s possible they were already dead by then. That would have been before their run-in with the guy in the closet, or Jerry’s visits on Monday to the restaurant where Eric worked and the apartment complex where he was killed.
Laura hadn’t mentioned Eric to the police on Saturday and Jessica hadn’t come clean to Hernandez about Laura’s liaison with Eric until after the encounter with the 18th Street gang-member on Sunday. That would have been the earliest point at which the police were alerted about the need to talk to a waiter named Eric. If both Eric and Joe had missed work, and were already dead, someone was way ahead of them.
A chill ran through Jessica as it became clearer to her that she and Jerry hadn’t led anybody to Eric. In fact, it was only because of Jerry’s persistence in trying to reach the guy that the police had discovered the murdered men as soon as they did. Defiance was creeping back in as she pondered the notion that someone else might have tipped off Bedrossian about Eric. How connected was he? He had eluded police for years, always a step or two ahead. Maybe he had a little help on the inside. Except for the fact that whoever got to Eric and his cousin Joe wasn’t just “connected” but clairvoyant. They got to Eric before the police even knew about him.
“Come on in,” she said, as a barely audible knock on the door ended her rumination. Laura entered the room, with an all too familiar look of anguish on her face.
“Jessica, I came to see how you’re doing. I heard you got attacked again, because of me and Roger. Some guy tried to steal your purse and hurt you. I feel awful. I should
never have gotten you involved in this.”
“Oh, God, Laura, none of this is your fault. Come on in and have a seat. I was just taking stock of the damage done. A little cut on my foot and a couple skinned knees, that’s all. I can’t believe I let that bastard get a jump on me. If I’d been paying attention, instead of wandering aimlessly in the parking garage, I might have noticed someone lurking near my car. The nice suit and Bruno Maglis shouldn’t have made me any less wary.”
“That’s awfully well-dressed for a purse snatcher.”
“Yeah, that’s what the bicycle cops on El Paseo said, too. They thought they had a domestic dispute on their hands, especially once they took a good look at my face. That line of inquiry came to an abrupt halt when I put them in touch with my new bff, Detective Hernandez. I guess you heard about Eric and his cousin?”
Laura nodded, the anguish on her face deepening. “What’s going on, Jessica?”
“Well, I just got off the phone with Detective Hernandez, such a lovely man. They were both shot, but with a 9 mm instead of the .38 that killed Roger. The place was trashed in an effort to find whatever they’re after. He actually took a stab at blaming me and Jerry for leading the bad guys to them. I was just sitting here, doing the math, and it doesn’t add up. Those two men may have been killed before we, or the police, could have led anyone to Eric. It’s horrible what happened to Eric and his cousin, but we didn’t have anything to do with it.” She paused and smiled at Laura.
“We’ve all been pulled into something we don’t understand and didn’t ask for.” Jessica thought, but did not add, that it was such good fortune that Laura was still alive. A rush of gratitude flowed through her. Laura was alive. She was banged up a little more, but hell, she was alive too!
