Crunch Time gbcm-16

by Diane Mott Davidson

  “Because . . . Father Pete told you to?”

  Lolly heaved a large sigh, as if my inability to comprehend her leaps in thinking were beyond her ken. She said, “As far as I know, Father Pete and Ernest don’t—didn’t—even know each other. But after our good rector gave me a lecture on doing something for the good of humanity or whatever, I said to myself, ‘The next person who comes to me for help—unpaid help, that is—I gotta do something for them.’ The next day, Ernest McLeod showed up at my apartment door. Just like you, except he didn’t pound on it and demand to be let in.”

  “When was this?” I asked sharply.

  “Couple of weeks ago. He’d sorta been watching Humberto for some clients—”

  “The Juarezes.”

  “Those people who were at the party last night? That man who confronted Humberto? Omigod, I figured they must be. . . . But no, Goldy, Ernest didn’t tell me their names, and I didn’t want to know. So Ernest had seen me with Humberto. He’d followed me. When he came here, he talked about how Humberto had stolen a big whack of dough from these people, or rather, from the man in the couple. Ernest said it wasn’t actually money, it was gold and gems. I didn’t believe him until he showed me a picture of a diamond necklace that had belonged to the guy’s mother. It was from a photo in a Havana nightclub, and the newspaper was all yellowed and raggedy, plus it was in Spanish.” Lolly paused, shaking her head. “But I could see the picture, and the necklace.” Lolly gave me another of her fierce looks. “I’d worn that frigging necklace, Goldy.” My throat turned dry. Lolly went on. “Humberto had loaned it to me to wear to a charity shindig we went to. We had sex in the afternoon, and afterward he told me he wanted me to wear a very special piece of jewelry to the posh dinner. He clipped it on my neck and said it had belonged to his aunt. Since he’d already told me neither his mother nor his father had had siblings, I thought, Duh, I just caught you in a lie, Humberto. So I believed Ernest’s story. And I decided to help him.”

  Abruptly she stood and raced to the bathroom. I rubbed my arms, trying to get the feeling back in them. When Lolly came back, her eye makeup was smeared. Somehow I felt that she would be damned before she let anyone see her cry. After a moment she cleared her throat and again took up her story.

  “So I said to Ernest, ‘What do you need me to do?’ He told me it wasn’t really legal. I said, ‘That’s okay, neither is prostitution.’ He smiled, you know? And then he said, ‘This’ll be prostituting yourself for a good cause.’ ”

  I took a sip of coffee, now cold. I could hear Tom’s voice in my ear. If Lolly had engaged in an illegal search, then any evidence gleaned from that search would be tossed out of court. Still, if all this helped lead to Ernest’s killer . . .

  Lolly said, “Ernest told me Humberto didn’t have a safety deposit box, ’cause he’d been following him for weeks, like a Rocky Mountain tick stuck to his skin, he said. And Humberto had never once gone to a bank. But Ernest had followed Humberto to New York City, to Forty-seventh Street, to be exact. The Diamond District. And that’s where Ernest found out Humberto sold a couple of diamonds. So, Ernest said, he was convinced that Humberto got them from somewhere in his house. Ernest asked me to look around for a safe. I did. There wasn’t any safe, at least not then, but I’ll get to that. For Ernest, I looked under pictures, tapped on the floor, checked the backs of closets. Stuff like that. I’m no investigator, but I couldn’t find anything remotely suspicious. I’m not talking about the necklace. That was different; he kept it in a jewelry box, the dummy. But a cache of gold and gems? No.” She shook her head again. “One thing’s for sure. Humberto is not the brightest bulb in the box. So I was sure I’d be able to find the rest of what Ernest was talking about, since I am a pretty bright bulb myself.”

  “You’re a supernova, Lolly. But are you telling me Humberto doesn’t have a safety deposit box and doesn’t have a safe?” I asked, incredulous.

  When Lolly shook her head, the black and blue hair moved like wings. “Not that I could find. Of course, that doesn’t mean it’s not in some place I didn’t find. All he has is his place. But the house does have security. There are two sets of codes, one for the front gate, one for the house itself. Of course, the third time I went over there, I opened my compact and used the mirror to watch him enter the codes, and I memorized them. What you learn in Vegas does not stay in Vegas. Anyway, I watched him do this several times. And Humberto is too stupid or too lazy to realize you need to change the codes from time to time. Furthermore, I’d done enough nose-powdering for him to think I only cared about my appearance. Not only that, I’d faked enough orgasms for him to think I was only in our relationship for the sex. When he paid me, he always said, ‘This is for you to buy yourself a little something.’ I always acted surprised and grateful.”

  “Two sets of codes, and that’s it?” I still couldn’t believe what she was telling me.

  “No, no, no, that is not it. As I said, there was no hiding place that I could find. But Humberto has his four cars, and his office building. He also has three thugs who guard his house and grounds. They’re all Spanish-speaking, and I don’t speak Spanish.” She sighed. “I did tell Ernest about the necklace, and that it was kept in an unlocked jewelry box. I felt terrible admitting I hadn’t been able to find the cache of stolen stuff Ernest insisted must be there. So I searched again. I went through the bureaus one more time. The closets. I scoured the cars. I looked in the freezer, under the mattress, and in every item of Humberto’s clothing. I checked the seams on all the pillows and upholstery. There was nothing handmade or hand-sewn. While Humberto slept and the guards drank themselves silly out in the gatehouse, I went through every box in the basement and the attic. One day I even took the toaster apart. No diamonds. I figured all I had to say if I was caught was that I’d lost something.”

  “But that didn’t happen,” I said.

  “Nope.”

  I said, “Damn it. But why did you get upset a while ago? It’s not your fault that Ernest was killed.”

  “Just let me finish my story, will you, Goldy? I want to get through this. Next time Ernest came over, I told him I’d failed. He said he had a new plan and gave me some of his temazepam. Know the drug?”

  “Sleeping pills.”

  She pointed a black-painted fingernail at me. “Correct. He asked me to open up the pills and sprinkle the powder into new bottles of the guards’ rum. He said to pour a little rum out of each bottle first, so it would look as if the guys had started drinking them and just forgot they’d opened them. Ernest assured me the dose I was putting in wouldn’t be enough to kill the guys.” When she shrugged, the torn-out neck of her sweatshirt fell off one shoulder, revealing the ratty strap of a bra. She pulled the sweatshirt back into place and went on. “The guys kept their bottles of rum in the refrigerator, so I knew I could do it. Ernest asked for the security codes, and I gave them to him. He also furnished me with a disposable cell and told me to call him the next time Humberto and I were going out on a date. That’s what Humberto always calls them: ‘dates.’ What a joke.”

  She rubbed her eyes. I waited.

  Finally, she said, “So then Humberto invited me to the opera. He always wanted to show me off to people, like he was such a stud, he’d been able to land a young girlfriend. And he wanted to appear cultured. Yeah, like yogurt, I always thought. Anyway, when he was on his way over here to pick me up, I called Ernest. Then I put the phone into my purse, to throw away at the opera, the way Ernest had told me. When I told Humberto I needed to stop at his place for a jacket I’d purposely left there, I threw away the guards’ open bottles of rum and put the doctored ones in their place.”

  “Then what?”

  “Down in Denver, I tossed the cell, the way Ernest told me. When the opera was over, I was so nervous we’d surprise Ernest while he was robbing the house, I told Humberto the music had moved my soul. I wanted to make love in the car. He complied.” She ran her hand through her hair.

  “And when you g
ot back to Humberto’s house?”

  “The guards were all fast asleep. Humberto woke them up, yelling at them like there was no tomorrow. He insisted they search the house. That’s when they discovered the missing necklace.” She sighed. “Humberto called an ambulance for the guards. Then he phoned the police. But I think he was afraid of getting caught telling them about a piece of jewelry he had stolen being stolen, so he clammed up. As soon as the cops left, those son-of-a-bitchin’ guards hollered that I had to be the one who had stolen the necklace.” She lifted her chin, indicating the tiny apartment. “They came over here and tore the place apart.” Her right hand patted the couch. “I had to put this bedspread over my sofa, because they ripped through the old fabric, looking for the necklace. They went through the trash, inside my apartment and out in the parking lot, so I was glad I had dumped the cell in Denver. Then the assholes broke into my parents’ house and ransacked it. But wait, this is the good part.”

  “There’s a good part?” I said faintly.

  “My mom and dad get back from a church meeting? They surprise the guards. My dad blocks their car in our driveway. He calls the cops on his cell, then takes a crowbar out of his trunk and treks to the front door to threaten whoever’s in the house. So much for ‘Blessed are the peacemakers.’ ”

  “Oh my gosh, Lolly—”

  “Next thing I know, Humberto’s tooling over there, with me beside him. He’s giving my parents five K in cash, in exchange for them saying the guards were their friends who’d come to a party on the wrong night. No charges were brought. Arrests or no arrests, I was furious and told Humberto he had to give me money for new furniture and tell the guards to leave me alone. Otherwise, he could find himself a new”—she hooked her fingers to indicate quotation marks again—“ ‘girlfriend.’ ”

  “Good Lord, Lolly.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “The guards backed off. Humberto gave me ten thousand dollars, do you believe that? I called Julian, told him I’d come into some cash, did he want part of his money back? He laughed and said he’d take repayment after I got my degree and a jobby-job. So I bought this spread and those two chairs”—she pointed across the room—“at the Aspen Meadow Secondhand Store. My bank account got fattened up, and Humberto and I got together.” She stopped, and I waited while she summoned the will to tell me the next bit, which I knew was coming. “Next thing I knew, Ernest McLeod had been shot and killed.”

  She rubbed her eyes furiously to keep herself from becoming upset. When she finally began to weep, I figured it was better just to let her have her cry.

  19

  After she’d cried her way through a roll of discount toilet paper, she calmed down. I asked, “Did you tell the cops all this?”

  Her bloodshot eyes gave me that look again, like I was hopelessly dense. “No, Goldy. I did not tell the cops that while I was working as a whore, I conspired to steal a valuable necklace and then drugged three guys so that my coconspirator could break into the house where the necklace was. I didn’t even want to tell you. But then when you knocked and knocked and knocked on my door, I had this vision of Father Pete shaking his head and of Julian looking disappointed, and I couldn’t stand it. Your husband’s a cop, isn’t he? Can’t you tell him, and keep me out of it?”

  I blinked. “I’ve already told him I was coming to see you.”

  “Oh, Christ.”

  “I don’t think Tom will arrest you for prostitution if you tell him all you’ve told me.”

  She exhaled. “The cop who arrested me for DUI wasn’t exactly empathetic.”

  “Nor would I expect him to be. But this is murder and is therefore different. Humberto had motive—Ernest had discovered and taken the necklace—and he probably had opportunity. Or he could have hired one of his guards to do it.”

  “But how would he have found out about Ernest in the first place?”

  “When Ernest was a cop, he had worked Norman Juarez’s case. Humberto or his people had put together that Ernest was investigating him. Humberto had even hired Yolanda to spy on Ernest. Maybe he had someone else watching Ernest, someone we didn’t know about.”

  “Oh, Christ. Who?”

  I shook my head. “You know I can’t talk about that. But here’s the big question: Did Ernest tell you where the necklace was? Because he didn’t give it to the Juarezes.”

  “He didn’t?” She raked her blue-black hair behind her ears. “Holy crap. I wondered why Norman Juarez acted so angry last night. But no, after the break-in, I didn’t call Ernest. I was afraid if I called Ernest on my regular cell, Humberto and his guards might find his number on my ‘calls made’ list. Ernest had told me very specifically not to phone him. And I’ll tell you something else. The very day after Ernest took the necklace? Humberto began a huge redecorating campaign. He stripped the rooms to the bones and started over. They’re almost done, too, which is amazing.”

  “Who’s doing all the painting and whatnot?”

  “The guards. They installed new appliances, new draperies, new lights, you name it. But they weren’t allowed in the bedroom when I was there. The furniture was replaced; there are new pillows, new fabrics on everything. And all the materials were brought in by the guards.”

  “Why would he do all that?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “And you don’t have a clue what Ernest did with the necklace?”

  “None.”

  Another dead end. No necklace, no gold, no gems, and no key as to who had killed Ernest. Wait; keys. I asked, “Do you know if Humberto has access to the houses Donna Lamar rents out?”

  Lolly rubbed her forehead. “You mean, Donna that rental agent who was at the party last night? All I know about her is that she has an office in the Captain’s Quarters.”

  “I’m aware of that,” I said patiently. “But do you know if Humberto has access to her keys, or security codes, for her rentals?”

  Lolly shook her head. “I only see Humberto when he wants to see me. But he owns the Captain’s Quarters, Goldy. And even though it’s not fully leased, Ernest said he followed Humberto very carefully and then broke into the building. He was sure the gold and gems weren’t anywhere in there.”

  “But keys to the rentals that Donna handles?”

  “If he told Donna he wanted some keys, he’d probably get them, especially if they were to empty rentals. Still, if Ernest was stuck to Humberto’s ass, don’t you think he would have seen Humberto going into one of the rentals, and found the gold and gems hidden there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  When Lolly saw my disappointed look, she said, “I’m sorry. But I can’t ask Humberto anything, or he’ll think I had something to do with the stolen necklace.”

  I thought of Yolanda’s rental burning down right after Humberto had said he wanted her to spy on Ernest. I did not want to burden Lolly with any more, though. “Don’t apologize, Lolly. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, coming over here and talking to you about Ernest.” I hesitated before getting up to leave.

  “What?” she said.

  “Well,” I said hopefully, “my husband always asks if there’s anything out of place. Anything at all, he always says. Anything besides the redecorating that’s aroused your curiosity?”

  She wrinkled her forehead. “Humberto is getting a delivery later this week. Friday, he told me. But he wouldn’t say what, only that it needs to be ‘installed’—his word—and I can’t come over that day.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Well, he keeps a pretty tight hold on his wallet.”

  “I thought you said he’d been generous to you and your parents.”

  “I don’t mean it metaphorically, Goldy. I mean when he’s dressed, he keeps a really tight hold on his actual wallet. He’s always checking to make sure he has it. One time when he was asleep, I went through it. All I found for my trouble was a couple hundred bucks plus three or four receipts. BFD.”

  “Three or four rec
eipts for what?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t look at them that closely.”

  I had no idea what these might be, but even the slenderest of clues could offer something. “Does Humberto have a photocopier?” When she nodded, I said, “Could you copy the receipts for me? Don’t steal them. I’m coming to Humberto’s tonight, for dinner.”

  “I know.”

  “Will you be there?”

  When she nodded again, I said, “Got any of that temazepam left?”

  “I have one left. Oh, Christ, Goldy, don’t tell me you want me to drug somebody.”

  “Are you and Humberto getting together this afternoon?”

  She let her head drop back. “Yes. He says if we make love first, he has a better siesta. And before you ask, yes, we usually have a drink first.”

  “So, you open up the pill and sprinkle a little bit in each of your drinks. Okay? Then you pretend to drink some of yours while he drinks his. When he’s asleep, you get the stuff out of his wallet, copy it, fold it up, and save it for me, just until tonight. Then you have a tiny bit of your drink and lie down next to Humberto, until you fall asleep—”

  “Know what?” Lolly interrupted me. “I already saw Romeo and Juliet. As I recall? That dual-poisoning thing didn’t turn out so well.”

  “This will have a happy ending,” I insisted. “He’ll wake up, and then he’ll wake you up, and even if he gets suspicious and sends the drinks off to be analyzed, you’re in the clear. Listen,” I said earnestly, “I need to see what Humberto’s keeping in his wallet, Lolly. Maybe it’ll lead somewhere.”

  She sighed. “Please don’t tell Tom about my part in all this, okay?”

  “I’m not even going to tell Tom what I’m doing. Hide the photocopy well, and don’t swallow much of that drink.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She led me to the door. “Don’t worry, I’m in the fix I’m in because of booze. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  In the van, I checked my watch. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but my stomach was rumbling. The Aspen Meadow Pastry Shop had survived the downturn, and I thought a buttermilk doughnut and a cup of brewed coffee would do the trick.