Gurn set the carriers on the bed and I unlatched the doors. The cats came out almost as one, slow and suspicious. Gurn turned to leave and I followed on his heels.
“While the three of you look around, I’ll go get their litter pans and whatever else is left in the car. Check out the kitchen. It even has a cappuccino maker.”
“Sounds like you’ve been here before.”
“Only once, several years ago. Tied in with the oil slick. Washington wanted a few answers.”
“Did you have them? The answers, I mean, not the oil slick.” We stood at the door and I watched him replace the rod in the recess of the floor and back of the door like an expert.
“Eventually.” He grinned at me. “Even though I’m only going to be gone a few minutes, you may as well practice locking the door. Oh, and don’t open the hurricane shutters on the balcony. They have to stay closed.”
I saluted smartly and he left, the sound of his feet clomping down the stairs. I waited a moment then slid the pole into place behind the door. Easy enough to do. I experimented a little and tried to yank open the door to see if there was any play in it. There wasn’t.
I went back into the bedroom. The cats were getting acquainted with their new surroundings, Tugger sniffing a floorboard and Baba giving the army blanket what for. I crossed through the Jack and Jill bathroom and into the second bedroom. It was nearly a duplicate of the first, down to the army green wool blankets, except against one wall was an aluminum set of bunk beds. This room slept a snug four people. I left the shade down in this room.
The eat-in kitchen, almost the same size as the living room, turned out to be well stocked with staples and glory hallelujah, a stacked washer/dryer. I returned to the hallway, rolled the suitcase into the kitchen, found detergent under the sink, and started a laundry. Hopefully, to get rid of the fact a burglar pawed through our underwear.
The apartment was very clean, no dust or dirt anywhere. Somebody in the FBI was a good housekeeper. Deep in thought, I turned on the ceiling fan in the living room for air movement and did a little thinking. I sorted through the few things that on the surface of it that didn’t make sense to me. Things like who would want to toss our clothes around but take nothing, including a pair of silver onyx earrings easily pawn-able? And who would want to open a window and release the cats from the room?
The thought of the cats made me return to the bedroom, where I checked on them. Baba was now watching Tugger, who was still on the floor studying the plank of wood. I wondered what odor emanated from the wood that attracted Tugger for so long a time. Obviously, Baba wondered, too, because she hopped down to join him.
Two sniffing cats got me curious, so I crossed over to examine the plank with them. Kneeling down and much to their displeasure, I pushed them away and yanked at the floorboard.
It came up surprisingly easily and revealed a small safe secured in place between the flooring and the ceiling of the apartment below. The safe was locked, but that didn’t deter me. While my singing skills are sub-par and moose-like, my safe cracking is right up there with Plácido Domingo. This one promised to be pretty easy to open. I leaned down, my right ear where the tumblers lurked, duff in the air, and started twirling. In less than five minutes, I heard the click.
I opened the safe door and saw a smallish Smith and Wesson handgun, mucho dirty and in need of cleaning. Before grabbing it, I hesitated, and reached up for some Kleenex on the bureau. I picked the gun up by the butt with the tissue, just as the front door opened.
“Hello,” Gurn called out from the hallway. “Where are you?”
“I’m here in the bedroom with a surprise.”
“A black negligee?” He chortled as he came down the hall toward the room. “Whatcha got there?” Gurn stood in the doorway, studying me and the hovering cats.
“It’s a gun.” My voice was puzzled, but I held it out to him. “There’s also a box of shells.”
Gurn dropped his jacket on the bed and came over. Not moving from the floor, I handed off the gun and he examined it.
“It’s a Smith and Wesson MP357.”
“So I noticed. It’s written on the side.”
“The serial number’s been filed off, though, and it’s filthy.” He pulled the magazine out. “Jesus Christ! It’s loaded.” Gurn’s shock reverberated throughout the room.
He crossed over to the desk, emptied the bullets from the magazine into his hand, laying them out on the hard wooden surface one by one. Each rolled with a smooth metallic sound until it found a resting place. He then began to dissemble the handgun with a proficiency I’d only seen in the movies.
“You’re taking it apart?” I asked, rising from my crouching position. Tugger, now bored, leapt up on the windowsill and looked out, probably searching for birds or bugs. Baba joined him.
“You bet I am. A dirty, loaded gun is just an accident waiting to happen. How did you find this thing, anyway?”
“I didn’t, Tugger did. He kept sniffing at the floorboard, so I took a look.”
“Anything else in there?”
“Just the box of cartridges, like I said.”
Hands on hips, Gurn looked down at the parts lying on the desk. “It’s been fired several times. Then put away, but never cleaned.”
“Maybe they were in a hurry.”
“Two cartridges are missing from the magazine. I don’t understand how someone can pay the kind of money these things cost, take on the responsibility of owning a handgun, and then not treat them with the respect they deserve.”
“You make it sound like owning a pet.”
“In some ways, it’s the same. Only potentially a lot more dangerous.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Clean it. Check it over. Reassemble it.”
“Then what? And who’s is it?”
“That’s the fifty-thousand dollar question, Lee. I can’t imagine any of the men I know doing such a thing. It’s unconscionable.”Gurn’s face took on a grim look I’d rarely seen.
“The safe looks to me like it was put under the floorboards in a hurry, so maybe it wasn’t any of the good guys. I’m sure glad it was Tugger that found it, and not some nefarious thug.”
“Well, if it works, the gun is yours now.”
“Mine? Wait a minute. Doesn’t it belong to somebody?”
“Probably not anyone who wants to claim it. It’s a good weapon. More accurate than the Detective Special you insist on carrying. Later on, I’ll take it out to a range and see how it does.”
“Don’t do it on my account. I love Lady Blue and I don’t intend on giving her up.”
“You can’t hit the broadside of a barn with that thing.”
“Excuse me! I have hit many a barn in my day.” I rose and glared at him.
“I make an exaggeration, Lee, but given how fire arms have evolved since the sixties, the Colt Detective Special is obsolete.”
“It is not obsolete! You take that back. I get some pretty good scores on the firing range with Lady Blue.”
“That’s because you’re an exceptional shot, especially when you have the right equipment. And you’re ambidextrous. Remember how you got fifty-out–of-fifty last month using either hand? Sharpshooters can’t always do that. But you were using my Beretta M9. It’s a better gun.”
“I’m not giving up Lady Blue.” I folded my arms across my chest and stomped in the direction of the bathroom.
Gurn made a grab for me as I passed him and twirled me into his arms.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Maybe I shouldn’t have said those things.” He nuzzled my neck. “It’s just I worry about you. You’re in a dangerous business. You should have a better gun.”
I relaxed into his arms. “I love Lady Blue, Gurn,” I whispered into a shoulder warm and all man. “It’s easy to hide. It’s lightweight. And…and it’s the first gun my Dad gave me when I became a detective.” I looked at him appealingly. “I don’t think I can --”
“Enough said, Lee
.” He interrupted me with his lopsided smile and kissed my forehead. “The part about your father giving it to you makes me agree to table the discussion. Let’s be friends.”
“Friends.” I looked up at him. “You know, this is our first fight. And it’s over guns. I would have thought it would be over my mother.”
Gurn shook his head with a laugh. “Not Lila. Never Lila. I wouldn’t touch that one with a ten-foot pole.”
“Hmmm. Men have been telling me that for years.”
Chapter Seventeen
Freedom Comes At Last
Followed by Gurn, I entered the hospital room to find Mom and Vicki almost packed up. Richard was still at the lab going through papers with his assistant, Andy. Tío waited for us at Mrs. Llewellyn’s.
Vicki looked up as the door opened, a little less energy than her usual dazzling, bubbly self. Over the bandage, she wore one of the ubiquitous hats she is rarely without. This one was a wide-brimmed straw job with a large bow on one side. If it hadn’t been done in a vivid purple, edged with bright green, it might have worked for me. Several gold fleur de lys baubles danced within the center of the green bow, catching the eye. We were pandering to the Mardi Gras crowd and if I knew Miss Vicki, this lid would set the panderee back several hundred bucks.
A large grin crossed her face as she rushed over to greet me, but her eyes had the same sunken, worried look I’d seen the day before. Vicki’s small body enveloped me in a giant hug.
“Lee! How are you? Hi, Gurn.” She gave my man a friendly, acknowledging nod. “I understand your room was broken into. Is everything all right?”
“It’s been dealt with. We’ve moved somewhere safer,” Gurn said.
“Details later,” I added, and hugged her back.
Vicki nodded. “Any news on the other front? Richard told me you found Dennis Manning. You lost him right after that, but if you found him once, you’ll find him again, won’t you?” She changed the subject with hardly taking a breath.
“Did you know they were going to arrest me for some man’s murder? He was lying dead right beside me, with me passed out!” She let out a shudder at the thought, but didn’t wait for any of us to answer. “I’ll bet you Manning killed him. That’s why the charges against me were dropped.”
After she stopped talking, it took me a moment to process what she’d said.
“Dropped? The charges against you have been dropped? Is that why the cop isn’t outside the door?”
I gave a fast look over my shoulder at Gurn then back at Mom. Her blonde hair was up in French twist, smart and sleek. The up do revealed the ever-present pearl button clip-on earrings, my father’s last gift to her before his death. Dressed in the pale lavender two-piece knit suit trimmed in suede she’d had since before I can remember, Lila Hamilton Alvarez was every inch the sophisticated, chic matron. As Coco Chanel once said, “fashion changes, but style endures.” Mom’s suit was a living monument to that statement.
On her feet, flawlessly dyed to match the suit, were a pair of Italian suede five-inch stilettos by a big bucks designer whose name escapes me, but his prices never do. My mother is a shoe fiend, as well as a clothes horse, and to her way of thinking, a closet full of shoes is a glorious thing.
I mean how silly is that? As for me, I only have thirty, forty pairs. Well, maybe a little more. I haven’t done a count lately, but I’m absolutely nothing like my –
Hmmmm. Uh-oh.
“We were so relieved.” Mom flashed us a smile, but never stopped arranging Vicki’s belongings in a small overnight case.
Relieved about what? I did a fast rewind, my mind wandering again on life’s accessories, as it is wont to do. Oh yes, Vicki being released from the hospital with no charges of murder against her.
She went on, neatening the already neat clothing in the bag. “Welcome back, Gurn, and thank you for all you did in Washington. I see the wardrobe I chose for you, Liana, works perfectly.”
“Yes, thanks so much, Mom; I’m very grateful. I love everything. So that means the jackass dropped the charges? Finally.”
“A lady never calls a man a jackass, even when he is.” Mom actually sniffed. “Detective Devereux was here only a few moments ago to tell us Victoria is free to go, in his own heavy-handed way, of course.”
“So he’s a heavy-handed jackass?” I grinned at her. She broke down and grinned back. I love my mother.
“Possibly more accurate. But the charges have been dismissed. That’s all that matters. Victoria, hand me your toiletries over on the sink.” Vicki left my side with an apologetic glance.
“Maybe Devereux’s still around. If I can find him, I need to talk to him.” I turned for the door.
“I’ll go with you, Lee.” There was a serious glint in Gurn’s eyes.
“Not this time, please. I have something private I need to say to him. Okay, hun?” I blushed at excluding Gurn, especially as he had traveled most of the night helping the family out.
He reached out and touched my arm with a gentle hand and nodded. “This is your bailiwick, Lee. I’m just along for a little support.”
“You give a lot of support, buster.” I gave him a grateful look and he rewarded me with a loving smile.
“All part of the service. Why don’t I start bringing things down to the car? Rich is going to meet us at Mrs. Llewellyn’s house after he and Andy finish up. Then you and I will head off to Arnaud’s for dinner. I believe that’s the scenario.”
“Everybody’s being so wonderful to me,” Vicki said, in a small voice. “Working so hard to help me. I just don’t know what to say --” She stopped talking, her face scrunching up with emotion.
“There’s no need to say anything, my dear.” Mom’s no-nonsense tone of voice filled the room, as she shut the lid on the small piece of luggage. “Naturally, we’re helping. We’re family. Now you stop this. You need to marshal your energy for the baby. Try not to be needlessly sentimental, Victoria.”
Gurn and I snuck a waggle of eyebrows at one another before he took the case from Mom’s extended hand. He crossed back and picked up the large suitcase near the door. “Have you gotten the discharge papers yet, Lila?”
“They’re waiting at Admissions. We’ll go there first then meet you outside the front of the hospital. The nurses insist Victoria exit in a wheelchair. So dramatic, but they have their reasons, I suppose.” She glanced over at Vicki, her eyes growing misty. “It will be good to have you out of here, my dear, dear Victoria.” Her voice caught in her throat.
“Try not to be needlessly sentimental, Lila,” Gurn quipped. Everyone laughed, Mom the longest.
“I’ll be down as soon as I can,” I said. “This won’t take but a minute.”
I left with purpose and found Devereux in the hallway talking to the officer who had guarded Vicki’s room. Everybody’s favorite jackass saw me out of the corner of his eye, but kept his steady conversation with the other man going. I waited patiently on the sidelines deliberately looking unperturbed no matter what. Just when I thought I was going to have to throw my Prada bag at him – the one with the heavy chains - the detective dismissed the man and turned to me.
“You wanted to see me, Miss Alvarez?” He stressed the word ‘miss’ and gave me a smirk just to be annoying. I didn’t rise to the bait.
“A word, Detective Devereux.” I turned and went into the waiting room, having seen it empty through the plate glass window. Devereux followed and shut the door behind him. I wheeled around and extended a clenched hand, as if about to offer him something from my unopened palm.
“You dropped this button when you searched my room.”
Without hesitating he reached out, looking down at the complete set of buttons on his suit, and then up at me. I opened my palm to show it was empty then let my hand fall to my side.
A ‘you got me’ look crossed his face. He brazened it through, though; the caught look exchanged for one of defiance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And you’ll have a tough time proving --�
��
“Cut the crap, Devereux. I know it was you. And if need be, I’ll get a team of fingerprint experts in there to prove it. You’ll have a tough time explaining why your prints are all over that room.” We both stared at one another. “You know, I don’t care you if hate us the way you do, but it takes a real low life to try to get to me through innocent animals.”
His face now wore a mask of astonishment. “What are you talking about? What animals?”
“You opened a window hoping my two cats would leave the room, which they did. They could have been hit by a car, attacked by another animal, lost or --”
“What cats? I never saw any cats.” He licked dry lips, and seemed to search inside his mind. “I was in there for less than two minutes. I tossed everything out of the drawers and opened the window so you would think someone entered the room that way. Maybe you’d think somebody was stalking you and leave town. I got the idea from the voodoo doll the night before.”
“The cats weren’t lying on the bed when you went in?” He shook his head. “Didn’t you see their litter pans in the bathroom?”
“I didn’t go into the bathroom. Good Lord, my kids have a cat.” As if just comprehending the thread of the conversation, he turned to me. “Wait a minute. You’re more pissed off about me letting the cats out than breaking into your room?”
“You’re damn straight.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Man, you are one for the books. For the record, I did not deliberately let your cats out. Are they all right?”
“Yeah, they’re all right, no thanks to you. And I’m glad to hear you didn’t do the voodoo doll. I was hoping your mind wasn’t quite that warped.”
He shook his head and studied me. I let him have his silence. I could see he was thinking.
“Okay. I’m sorry about your cats. But if you tell anybody I was in the room, I’ll deny it.”
He sat down heavily on the small couch and hunched over. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he stared down at his highly polished brown shoes.
“I don’t ordinarily do that sort of thing. I got…there was some disturbing news earlier and --” He broke off and looked up at me, anger rising from him again. “Who do you think you are, coming into my town and taking over like this? Think you own the world.”
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