by Arlette Lees
Finally, Amanda knew the identity of the man who had ended her husband’s life and changed hers with a single bullet. She helped Crystal into her slippers. “Lean on my shoulder. There, that’s right.” Somewhere a door opened and cold air flowed across Amanda’s ankles. She froze. Dack came through the door and paused when he saw the woman draped against Amanda’s side.
“Did you reach Hallinan?”
“No. We can do this ourselves. Who’s that?” he said. “I thought we were here for Crystal Monet.”
“This is Crystal. Can you carry her? We need to get her out of here.”
Dack backed up a step or two. “That’s Body Beautiful? You’ve got to be kidding. She’s almost bald.”
“Damnit, Dack! Will you give me a hand? Someone’s coming to kill her.”
“To kill her! I didn’t sign on for this bullshit.”
“It’s not like I invited you here. Are you going to help or put your tail between your legs and run?”
“No, I wouldn’t do that. I’ll bring the car around.”
“Please, hurry!”
Dack flew out the door, tripping on the trash can as he ran down the side of the building. He hit the road like a track star. When he got to the car, he leaned forward, hands on knees, gasping for air, relief washing over him like a benediction.
He jumped behind the steering wheel, swung a tight u-turn, and headed toward the main road. As he crossed the bridge he drifted over the center line and nearly sideswiped a blue-and-white car coming from the opposite direction. The driver gave him the evil eye and swerved to avoid a collision.
“Stupid greaser!” Dack yelled. There was a loud bang and he ducked before realizing it was a backfire from the Mexican’s car. He jammed the gas pedal to the floor and rolled off the bridge, nervous sweat popping in his armpits.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
TRAPPED
Amanda knew Dack had abandoned them. She guided Crystal to the exit. As her hand touched the doorknob an elderly man rushed toward them from down the hall.
“Tom,” said Crystal, her voice barely audible. “Help us.” He looked at them, then without speaking, held the door open to let them pass. He closed the door behind them and threw the deadbolt. Crystal moaned and leaned against her. They inched along the side of the building to the far side of the road across from the phone booth. Crystal collapsed at the base of a tree. Her slippers were gone, but there was no going back.
There was a loud bang in the direction of the highway. “That’s César’s car,” she said. “Get away, Amanda. I can’t go any farther.”
César drove past their hiding place and parked behind the building. Amanda fished a few dimes from the bottom of her purse. “Stay here and don’t come out.” She raced to the payphone. It dinged as she dropped a coin in the slot. She heard a car door slam. César gunned back down the drive and stopped in front of the booth. The operator came on the line.
“We need the police at 66620 Cl.…” César jumped out of the car and ripped the phone booth door open. A pane of glass tumbled onto the ground. “Club Velvet!” she screamed into the phone. “Club Velvet!” He slammed down the receiver and jerked Amanda out by her hair. She was looking into dead eyes set in a face as pitted as the surface of the moon. He reminded her of a black scorpion, quick and lethal.
“Who the hell are you?” He backhanded her across the face and her barrette went flying, his ring ripping through her hair. She screamed in pain. He grabbed her shoulder bag, pulled out the wallet, and flipped it open.
“Amanda Chase. I guess stupidity runs in the family. Where’s Crystal?”
“Free.” A frightened whisper.
He scraped a wooden match to life on the sole of his boot, blew it out and jabbed the fiery tip into Amanda’s shoulder. She gasped and jerked away, a hole in her dress and an angry burn on her skin.
“Do you know what I’m going to do to that soft white skin of yours? By the time I’m through, you couldn’t make a living as a two-dollar whore.” Amanda screamed until he slapped it out of her. His eyes shifted focus to a place beyond her shoulder and Amanda turned.
Crystal stood at the side of the road, her robe gone, her naked skin ghostlike in the moonlight. She didn’t seem to know where she was or what was happening. César turned to Amanda: “If you run, I’ll kill you,” he said, dangerously. He threw her purse in the trunk of the car, returned, and cold-cocked her with a hard-knuckled punch to the jaw. He caught her as she crumpled and tossed her in the trunk like a discarded doll. He swept Crystal under his arm, threw her beside Amanda, and slammed the trunk shut.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
BULLETS AND BLOOD
Hallinan’s Buick went airborne as he flew across the bridge. The car landed like a big cat on its muscular shocks. His heart thundered in his chest as he skidded onto Clapton Road, his shirt snapping in the wind from the open window. He rumbled over the rutted road, keeping an eye out for Amanda’s car, moonlight and shadow flashing over the Buick’s polished hood.
A car came toward him from the opposite direction, its beams on high. He shaded his eyes against the glare, as the blue-and-white Chevy flew by. He heard a backfire, saw a trail of black smoke, smelled oil burning off the head. Hallinan slammed on his brakes, spun around and nearly went over the steering wheel.
When the Chevy turned right at the intersection, Hallinan was on its tail. He pulled parallel to get a look at the driver. He was a hard-looking character in a black cowboy hat. Both the man and his car fit the witness description from the Gavin Chase homicide scene.
Hallinan pulled his gun from the holster and set it on the seat beside him, then held up his shield, and gestured for the driver to pull over. Instead, the man stepped on the gas. Hallinan tossed his shield on the dash. At the next intersection, a young couple exiting a movie theater stepped into the crosswalk. Hallinan let the Chevy nose ahead a few feet, then tapped the back left quadrant with the Buick’s right front fender.
The Chevy fishtailed, jumped the curb and tore a swath of grass from a residential lawn. The man jumped from the car, whipping a gun from his boot, as Hallinan climbed out from behind the steering wheel, gun in hand.
A bullet buzzed by Hallinan’s ear, but before the man in black could pull off a second shot, Hallinan took careful aim and his first shot was right on the money. The man dropped his gun and fell to his knees. He needed both hands to plug the hole in his throat. He gulped a couple times, like he was trying to swallow the bullet, then fell face-forward and bled out on the grass.
A crowd had begun to gather by the time Hallinan took the wallet from the dead man’s pocket. The license was issued to César Romero Navarro age thirty-six: black hair, black eyes, black heart.
A plump, grandmotherly woman came out of the house in her robe and curlers. The back end of the Chevy had come to rest in her rose bush, the trunk having sprung open on impact. She looked inside, began waving her arms and speaking tommy gun Spanish. Hallinan rushed over. Two women lay motionless in the trunk. One of them was Amanda.
* * * * * * *
Hallinan turned the scene of the shooting over to the first officers that arrived and tailed the ambulance carrying the two women. Amanda regained consciousness in the ambulance, reaching across the aisle to the other stretcher and squeezing Crystal’s hand. There was a weak response. As they raced toward the hospital, the police swarmed Club Velvet. They couldn’t find the person who’d made the distress call, but they picked up several people on bench warrants.
* * * * * * *
Although battered and bruised, Amanda waived medical treatment so she could stand with Hallinan, a doctor, and a chaplain and witness Crystal’s dying declaration. As she finished her narrative, Crystal’s breathing became shallow, her voice faded. The doctor felt her pulse. “She’s gone,” he said, and pulled the sheet over her face.
“What was wrong with her?” asked Amanda. “Why was she so emaciated?”
“Most likely her uterine cancer metastasized to vital o
rgans. If she’d had treatment in the beginning, she might have had a fighting chance.” He turned and addressed Hallinan. “Mrs. Chase is not to be left alone tonight. If her pupils become unevenly dilated, or she begins losing consciousness, she needs to return to the hospital.”
* * * * * * *
“At least now I know they met at Dr. Fraley’s Clinic,” said Amanda, once they were clean and fed and relaxing in Hallinan’s bed. “I wonder why Gavin didn’t tell me he had liver cancer.”
“I think he wanted to keep your relationship as normal as possible for as long as possible. He would have told you sooner or later. He could only hide it so long.”
“He had no problem confiding in Crystal Monet.”
“They needed someone to talk to who knew what the other one was going through.”
“I found her earring was in Gavin’s car. Crystal said they had a phone relationship. Do you think there was more to it than that?”
“I don’t know, Amanda. Maybe, he just wanted to help her get away from Navarro.”
“That’s possible. We still don’t know why he took the station wagon that night.”
“If I were in the rough part of town on New Year’s Eve, trying to keep a low profile, I wouldn’t tempt fate by driving a new BMW.” Amanda yawned. “You need to get some sleep? Stay in bed in the morning. Let me take care of you.”
“I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
“You don’t understand. I want to take care of you forever, not just for a day or two. If you can love a guy coming to the end of his twenty, I’ll give you a good life. We’ve taken some heavy hits in life, but we deserve a second shot. I know you could find someone younger and better-looking, but you’ll never find anyone who loves you more.”
When Hallinan left the house the next morning, Amanda was sleeping with Teddy curled on the quilt beside her.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
HELEN
Helen sat in the chair in her bedroom looking out on the wooded hill behind the house. He recalled the day they sat here watching the rain beat against the pane, Helen looking red-eyed but composed in her jade lounging pajamas. He sat in the chair beside her.
“Good to see you, Hallinan.”
“How are you, Helen?”
“Oh, I’m okay, I guess. I seldom leave the bed these days. The doctor says it’s kidney failure. I guess you saw the For Sale sign out front. It’s hard parting with the house, but time marches on. So, what’s in the envelope? My cat?”
“Oh, oh!”
“It’s all right. I imagine you did the right thing and put the poor fellow out of his misery.”
“No, I took him to the vet. He’ll be good as new when the stitches come out.”
“Well, that’s good news. Just don’t bring him back here,” she said, with a laugh. “Sarah has all she can handle. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
“I received a few photos from a deputy sheriff out by the Mojave. He thinks a child living on a nearby ranch resembles your daughter.”
“Wishful thinking, I fear. Well, let’s see what you’ve got.” She put on her bifocals and looked carefully at each photo. Hallinan waited quietly. “I’ll call you in a day or two. I need more time with these photos.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
A KNOCK AT THE DOOR
When Hallinan returned home that evening, the bed was made and Amanda had taken a taxi back to her apartment. The note pinned to the pillow said: YES.
Hallinan was humming happily, coffee perking on the stove and the fixings of a shrimp salad on the counter, when there was a knock at the door. The kitchen clock read nine. He opened it, expecting to see the paperboy coming to collect.
“Dorothy!” She wore a tailored black sheath with a wide white belt and strand of red beads, looking even thinner than the last time he’d seen her.
“I lost my key,” she said, pushing past him with Beezer in the crook of her arm and a suitcase in hand. She set the suitcase inside the door and lowered the dog to the floor. He wore a fringed vest and a little red cowboy hat, and went straight to the site of his former food bowl before Hallinan could stop him. There was a sharp yelp of surprise as he flew back into the front room, his hat cocked to one side, his toenails sliding on the hardwood floor.
“Sorry, Beezer,” he said. “That’s your adopted brother, Teddy.”
Teddy stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, his back arched, his ears back, his fur puffed up like a Halloween cat. Dorothy sat on the sofa by the fireplace and Beezer jumped trembling into her lap.
“I see you’ve found a replacement for Beezer,” she said.
“I don’t look at it that way. He needed a home and I had one to offer. You look frazzled. Let me get you a cup of coffee.” He went to the kitchen and returned with two steaming cups. He set hers on the coffee table and settled in his easy chair. “How are you, Dorothy? I tried to reach you when I heard about the accident.”
She kicked off her high heels and rubbed her swollen toes. “I’m the beneficiary of Monty’s life insurance policy,” she said. “His parents are furious. Can you believe they’re going to take me to court? It seems word of my existence hadn’t reached the wilds of Montana.”
“Wyoming, Dorothy. Monty was from Wyoming.”
“Whatever,” she said. She tapped a cigarette from her pack. Hallinan did not jump up. She fished matches from her purse and lit it.
“As you see, I came with suitcase in hand. I need a place to stay while I make plans. I’m thinking France. The best cinema is out of Europe these days.” Beezer blinked at the smoke coming off the tip of her cigarette.
Hallinan looked at her over his cup and took a thoughtful sip. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dorothy.”
“Europe?” she said, blowing the steam from her cup.
“No. Coming here.”
She set her cup down with a click. “You’ve met someone,” she said.
“I have.”
“Do you want to tell me about her?”
“I don’t.”
“Was she also a stray?” she said. Hallinan did not take the bait. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Have you slept with her?”
“I’m in love with her.”
“That’s a big gamble at your stage of life.”
“It’s all a gamble, Dorothy. Maybe, this time the odds are in my favor. Since you’re here, I want you to level with me. Where did we go wrong? Was it losing the baby? My long hours? What?”
She leaned back, took a drag from her cigarette, blew the smoke toward the ceiling, then leaned forward with an elbow on the knee of her crossed legs.
“For a cop you’ve got a real blind spot, Rusty.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
“I hustled you into marriage. I’m surprised you never figured that out. I didn’t get pregnant on our honeymoon. I was pregnant when we walked down the aisle.”
“But, we never.…”
“No, we never,” she said. “So, why you and not him? He was married, but not so married he didn’t like a good screwing on the side. He wouldn’t give me money to…you know…get rid of it. When I miscarried, I was delighted, but I couldn’t think of a graceful exit strategy from the marriage without losing face.”
There was a time when this information would have had a crushing effect, but Hallinan felt neither anguish nor outrage, just a sense of relief as the last psychological shackle that bound him to Dorothy fell away.
He set his cup down and walked to the dining room table, returned with the legal papers and handed them to Dorothy. “Signed and sealed, just like you wanted,” he said. “My only request is that you go to Vegas and get it done yesterday, if not sooner.”
He leaned over and lifted Beezer’s chin with a finger. Beezer thumped his tail and gave him a questioning look. Hallinan straightened his red hat. “There you go,” he said. “Now, you’re a real cowboy.”
He looked at Dorothy. “I want you to go now.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
REVELATION
Hallinan put in a call to Crazy Horse and got Deputy Stoneacre on the line.
“The elderly man in the photo is Ezekiel Bridger,” said Stoneacre. “I’ve always known him to be an upstanding citizen. The red-haired woman, Libra Gordy, recently inherited the ranch where the photos were taken. She has no record, but as a teenager she spent time in a sanitarium for depression and delusional thinking.”
“What kind of delusions?”
“The head physician at Sunny Oaks says Miss Gordy believes the Catholic Church stole and sold her newborn.”
“That’s some story.”
“Her stepfather told her therapist that she’d never been pregnant at all, that the girl had always been a little off. Now, here’s the zinger. Miss Gordy was in the Los Angeles area at the time Daisy Adler disappeared.”
“You’ve certainly done your homework, Deputy. Let me catch up on my end and I’ll get back to you.”
“Are those the photos from the donut shop?” said Tug, when Hallinan was off the phone. He pointed to the yellow packet on the corner of Hallinan’s desk.
“That’s it. Go ahead and take a look. Tug ripped the packet open and flipped through the photos.
“They gave you the wrong ones, big guy.”
“What?” said Hallinan.
“A boy in a canoe? A watermelon eating contest? A kid shooting an arrow at a target?”
“Let me see those,” said Hallinan. He looked at the photos and couldn’t stop laughing. “I took those when I was camp counselor. I guess I used up the whole roll.”
“You mean Storch blew his brains out for nothing?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
The phone rang and Hallinan picked up. “Yes, Helen. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Oh no,” said Tug. “I’m meeting Linda for lunch. Don’t you dare screw things up again.”
* * * * * * *
Helen answered the door in a white summer dress and a necklace of Italian glass beads. She looked fragile and slightly stooped, but something was different in her demeanor, like a dark cloud had lifted.
