by Pam Richter
Now Robin had to break in, knowing Sarah was referring to his inherited family wealth. "Are you meeting someone here, Sarah? You could join us."
"Thanks. I'm having lunch with Fabio," Sarah said. "I really shouldn't keep him waiting. Nice meeting you, Julia. And Robin, I'll call you at the office later. You will be there?"
"I have to go to court. I'll be in touch."
Sarah wiggled off in the high heels. Julia thought the woman looked ridiculous in jeans and high heels, but she also knew that many men were extremely gullible with that kind of blatant sensuality. Especially here in Los Angeles, where everyone was tan and trim and wore extravagantly suggestive clothing, pronouncing 'What you see is what you get.' She found it depressing and pushed the salad around on her plate with her fork.
"Old girlfriend," Robin said.
I wonder what the new one looks like, Julia thought. She really felt despondent. Her brother was dead. The nice mechanic sitting across from her was so stupid he could not see below a glittering exterior; that his little starlet girlfriend now happily ensconced at the table with Fabio was a superficial, name dropping little slut.
"Fast thinking, covering up like that," Robin said.
"Sarah didn't believe me for a minute, but she has nothing to be jealous of."
"Right," Robin sounded angry for a second and Julia wondered why. She had helped him provide a cover for himself. After all, he had been discovered sitting with another woman in a restaurant by a girlfriend. But truthfully, Julia knew Sarah was dying of jealousy, even if she had tried to patch things up by saying they were here on business. And she was glad.
Sarah was seated across the room so that she could watch the two of them and was doing so, with angry eyes, pretending to be having a wonderful time with Fabio, to spite Robin.
For his part, Robin didn't even glance at the table where Sarah and Fabio were sitting. He began telling Julia about the leads he was getting into the Mexican mafia.
"I'll probably have to attempt a buy myself, to get more information," Robin was saying, and finally Julia straightened up and listened.
"What!" She knew she had almost shouted.
"Shhh. I have to get to his associates. So I'm going to have to buy a lot of the stuff. It comes in raw from Mexico looking like a kind of brownish/black tar. Some people just chew it like that, instead of injecting it, because it's much cheaper in that form, but evidently the high they get isn't as extreme as when it's injected. It's also very dangerous because it can be riddled with deadly little microorganisms. No quality control on the stuff in the streets."
"Oh, no," Julia said, truly worried. "Robin, you might get caught by the police."
"I'll be careful," Robin said, smiling at her.
"I absolutely forbid it," Julia said. "You are my employee and I don't want you messing with dangerous drug dealers. Besides, if you try to finance this yourself and they find you don't have money for the buy, they might kill you."
"You've watched too much television. I'm going to impress them, by luring them with the promise of a lot of cash. Try to learn who Quijada's top men are. You actually happen to be in a much more dangerous situation, Julia. You're not just messing with a drug dealer, you're working for the boss of them all. And he's a lot more dangerous than the people on the streets selling the stuff, believe me."
Julia looked at him calmly and seriously. "This is an order. I do not want you to buy any drugs. Especially heroin. Period."
"Want me to search in the library?" He was angry. Nobody gave him orders.
"That's preferable," Julia said.
She had her nose in the air again, Robin thought with annoyance. "You think you will be all safe and cozy, working for Quijada. But you just see the superficial. The beautiful home. The dandified man with impeccable manners. But he's a shark, and you're in the pool with him, now. I want to resolve this as quickly as possible. That means getting one of his men to talk, and getting you out of there."
"A mafia drug dealer, if that's what Quijada really is, would kill anyone who blabbed to you," Julia answered angrily. "Then he would kill you. Why do you think my brother was murdered?" She was getting more and more angry. "Because he found something he wasn't supposed to know. Now we know where that information is. But no. You have to go hang out on street corners, and try to buy a bunch of drugs, acting like a drug king yourself, when all we have to do is find out what's in the safe."
"You just write the goddamned book," Robin said, getting really pissed himself. "I'll handle Quijada and this investigation."
"Who gave you the right to say how this operation is going? I hired you."
Robin took his wallet out of his pocket, opened it up and retrieved Julia's check. He put it on the table in front of her and said very softly, "Take your damned money. I certainly don't want it."
He was surprised when she suddenly burst into tears. Her expression didn't change, she didn't make a sound, but giant tears coursed down her cheeks and her nose turned a cute pink color.
"Oh hell. I'm sorry," Robin said. He searched in a pocket and came out with a handkerchief. He gave it to Julia and watched her wipe her eyes. She really gave them a good rub and then blew her nose and handed it back.
"You really don't wear any make-up at all?" Robin said.
Julia shook her head. "I guess I don't fit in very well, here in Los Angeles. Maybe I should use some lipstick."
"No. Don't. I think it's wonderful," Robin said.
"I want to have a friend here," Julia said slowly She took a deep breath. "And I want to catch my brother's killer. But I don't want to be the instigator in a situation that would put you, or anyone, in terrible danger, just to satisfy myself that there was justice in Brian's death. I didn't mean to sound highhanded. You scared me, talking about buying heroin and all that."
"There was one terrible tragedy, and you don't want another. I understand that," Robin said gently, smiling into her wet eyes. The black eyelashes had droplets of moisture, like dew.
"So how do we resolve this?"
"Do you trust me?" Robin asked.
"Yes. Strangely enough, I do."
"Then we'll have to compromise. I'll try to find someone who will speak of the terrible thing that happened to Brian. Some people obviously know. And they might be people who will go to Quijada's home. If you can, try to get the names of the people who visit him while you're working there. Also, their license plate numbers. I can check them out that way."
Julia nodded. "I'll be wandering around the grounds with my cameras. I can take pictures."
"Good. But you must be cautious. And, like you did today, call me on your car phone or your cell. Don't make any phone calls from the residence. I'll start making inquiries of the police. See if there are records of anyone investigating Quijada for drugs, or any type of illegal business. I'll bet there's something hidden from his past. If I go for his relatives and friends, I might turn up something."
"So you won't deal with the druggies on the streets?" Julia asked.
"I'll put it off for a while. Concentrate on his legitimate business associates. There must be some people he has angered in his cut-throat dealings who would be willing to talk. He's done some mighty hostile takeovers. You don't get where he is without making enemies."
"Thank you, Robin."
"And you promise me," Robin said seriously, "that if you find the safe and how to get into it, you tell me. I'll help you, although I think that would be a stupid and dangerous operation."
Now Julia was smiling brilliantly and he couldn't help responding. To counter the smile, he said, "You just spoiled all my fun. I was looking forward to disguising myself, hanging out with the night people; the pimps, prostitutes, wino's and drug dealers." He managed to appear as though she had snatched away an amusing toy.
Julia laughed and they both got up to leave. As they walked out, she noticed Sarah watching them from across the dining room with predatory interest. Julia gave her a small sweet smile and a wave, to rub it in.
<
br /> As Robin went over to his enormous, ugly yellow truck, Julia was wondering just what kind of mechanic wore costly designer suits and carried around expensive monogrammed handkerchiefs.
CHAPTER 12
Julia was writing, editing and printing the manuscript most of the morning when she discovered that the Thermos she had filled at the hotel was empty. She really didn't need any more coffee, but she wanted an excuse to go inside the main house and meet the people working there. She could do interviews and, during her exploration of the house, try to figure out where the safe was located.
Julia had felt like a hermit, working assiduously in the little cottage on the grounds, and purposefully staying away from the main house. She had taken many pictures of the front of the home when visitor's cars were parked there to get the license plate numbers. And she had worked late each night, so that when Quijada had business associates over she could take pictures of the people entering the home with her telescopic lens.
She called the license plate numbers in to Robin every night from her hotel room. Most times she felt frustrated because she had to leave the information on his answering machine. She had not seen him in five days and had only spoken to him once, very briefly. Julia was annoyed that he hadn't given her any updates on his own investigation. He did send a package to her hotel room, which contained a can of mace.
Julia developed the pictures she had taken of people entering Quijada's residence herself, afraid to give them to a lab. She copied them and then faxed the pictures to a number Robin had given her. He might find a drug connection, because Quijada seemed to have meetings every night, sometimes very late at night. She didn't think those clandestine meetings were related to his running for governor. The people who came appeared rough and foreign.
Now Julia felt it was time to begin her own research. She needed to find out how many people were working inside the house in the daytime, and where, in case she would have to look behind pictures on the walls, or pull up a corner of the carpet to find the safe. If she was caught snooping by a loyal family retainer she could find herself in deep trouble.
Julia took a tree lined walkway that curved around the tennis courts and then past the Olympic sized pool. It was a gorgeous, sunny day and she wondered if Quijada would let her swim. She had never seen anyone in the pristine waters. Julia knew she accomplished more when she could get some strenuous exercise to relieve the tension of constantly sitting at the computer.
She had been spending most of her time there because she found only notes for the last few chapters of Brian's book, so she had to do the writing herself, working hard to make the transition from Brian's writing to her own seamless. She didn't want anyone to guess that another person had finished the book. Brian had died writing the book and compiling the information; he deserved to be sole author.
Julia knocked on the back door and could see a heavy-set, dark haired woman moving toward her through the pane of window glass in the door. Julia smiled, holding her thermos in prominent view, and said, "I ran out of coffee..." when the woman opened the door.
"Ay que la!" The woman had put both hands to her face in shock, quickly backing up a few steps. Tears flooded her eyes. "The little sister. My, oh my. Come in. Come in. You took me by surprise!" The woman was brushing away tears in her enormous brown eyes. "Such a resemblance to Brian! Same black eyebrows and red-gold hair."
The woman went on, "Poor little girl, losing her big brother. Such terrible sadness."
Julia was going to mention that Brian had been her little brother, but now the woman had an arm around Julia's shoulders and was leading her from the utility room, into an enormous, yellow tiled kitchen. Julia was practically pushed down into a chair, by soft strong hands, at the kitchen table.
"Now you just sit right here. I'm Rosa, and I know just what you need. Skinny young girl, just like Brian was a skinny little boy. Dios, the lord sometimes gives such burdens to bear." Julia could feel tears in her own eyes at the woman's warmth.
As she was talking, Rosa was pouring coffee into a large mug. Then she popped a covered dish into the microwave oven.
"You don't have to go to any trouble. I just wanted to get a little coffee," Julia said, smiling at the woman.
"No trouble. No trouble. I give you a little treat. Brian used to come in every morning. I miss him so much. No young people here..." Rosa said. She had taken the dish out of the oven and placed it in front of Julia.
It looked like rolled up tortillas.
"You try. Brian's especial favorite," Rosa said, sitting down with her own cup of coffee, smiling happily that she had someone to feed.
Julia closed her eyes in bliss when she took a bite. It was a fluffy white tortilla, crisped brown, with butter, sugar and a dash of cinnamon. There goes my diet, she was thinking, as Rosa began telling Julia stories about her brother.
Rosa went on and on about funny pranks Brian had executed. The shark fin in the pool. He always executed an Irish jig, right here on this kitchen floor when Rosa fed him. Brian had helped Rosa's husband, Manny, prune the rose bushes in back. There was no end, it seemed, to her stories about Brian.
"...and," Rosa was saying, eyes widening with happy, innocent importance, "he even interviewed me for the book!"
Julia perked up. She had read about Rosa in the manuscript, and knew she had worked for Quijada for years. "I would like to go on with the interview. And if I could take a picture or two, would you mind?"
"Me? Oh no." Rosa looked startled, and then suddenly shy.
"Tell you what. I'll take the pictures, and if you don't like them, I won't use any of them. Okay?
"You promise? I would want to fix my hair. Ay Dios. I am a mess." Rosa was smoothing her thick, black hair back from her round, unlined face. She looked like she was in her middle forties, heavy, round and wholesome. Julia suddenly wished she had a mother just like her.
"I could put it up for you," Julia offered. "You have such beautiful hair."
"You think it would be better up?" Rosa asked, sounding worried.
Julia nodded. "Very dignified for the pictures. We can take them right here in the kitchen."
Rosa took her on a tour of the whole house. The ground floor was composed of the living room, dining room, pantry and kitchen. There were two guest rooms complete with private baths. There was a game room with a pool table. A wide covered terrace overlooked the whole back of the estate.
Below the first level of the house, Quijada had made the basement into a huge screening room where he could preview his movies for groups of at least a hundred people. There were popcorn machines and counters for candy, just like in a real movie theater; even a men's and woman's restroom were situated close by.
A small room beside the theater was a professional photography studio. It had movable lights in the ceiling and several cameras were set up for still shots. There was a professional movie camera, as well. Julia wondered what Quijada needed it for. She wished she could use it herself, because it had a dark room attached, but he hadn't even mentioned it to her. She wondered why. Quijada knew she had rented a studio to copy the pictures from his albums and to develop the film she had already taken of the grounds. She could have done the work right here.
Rosa took Julia upstairs where the bedrooms were located. She showed Julia the master bedroom, which was palatial in size, with a giant bed. At the next bedroom Rosa crossed herself as she motioned Julia inside. "Mrs. Quijada's bedroom," Rosa said with reverence. It was pink and ruffled, like it had belonged to a young girl, quite unlike the oppressively dark and heavy decorating in the rest of the home.
Julia wondered why the wife would have a separate bedroom, but didn't ask, as it was unnecessary.
"Senor Quijada snores," Rosa said, and she giggled. "Something wrong with his nose. A septum?"
"Deviated septum?" Julia asked.
"That's it. He does not smell very good either." Then she laughed. "I mean he does not have a good sense of smell. When Marina could not sleep, she cam
e in here."
Julia nodded politely, but she was thinking that that must be reason Aaron Quijada wore such horrible cologne. He had no idea when the scent was overpowering or obnoxious because he really couldn't smell it.
"So sad. About Marina," Rosa said, sighing. "No one knew she was so unhappy."
"She left a note, I believe," Julia said.
"Oh yes. But the note was not Marina's note."
"How did you know?"Julia asked.
"Marina would have written in Spanish. She came from Mexico and could speak English very well, but she did not write so well. But you won't say so in the book? Because the note was true. She was sick. Marina was Catholic, of course, and could not have children."
"It is very sad," Julia said. "But sterility isn't a sickness."
"For her it was. She wanted children and could not have them. So it made her sick," Rosa said simply.
They went through a couple of more bedrooms, one obviously decorated as a nursery. Then Rosa opened the doors to a library and office space, Aaron Quijada's study.
"This is where Senor works so hard," Rosa said. "The Drawing Room."
There it is, Julia thought surprised, right there in plain view. A big ugly, black safe was standing independently in a corner of the room on squat curved legs. It was ornate and appeared very old and extremely heavy. The combination lock mechanism was built into the door.
Julia made comments about the extensive library and then she remarked, very casually, that the safe appeared to be an antique.
"Senor doesn't keep much in it. But it's very safe," Rosa said.
"It looks like a safe safe," Julia said, a little inanely as she walked toward the massive thing.
"It would be if Senor did not keep changing the combination every few days, then leaving the instructions in plain view."
"Really?" Julia asked startled.
Rosa nodded. "A few times he changed the combination and then had to get safe crackers to open it. He had hidden the combination and forgot where he put it."
