by Ann Roberts
“Detective Nelson, this is my new friend, Checkers.” Checkers nodded and pointed at the pizza place in front of them. “I promised Checkers that if she answered a few of our questions, I’d spring for lunch. Does that sound good?”
“I’ll get us a table,” Molly offered.
She watched the two of them converse, Checkers doing most of the talking and gesturing with her hands. She imagined that by the time they got through the line Andre would know her life story. He was good at drawing people out, talking to them about themselves, unlike Molly who struggled with communication and despised chit chat. Ari often teased her about her inability to hold up her end of their conversations although she knew she was more comfortable with Ari than she’d ever been with anyone. For Ari she had lowered her defenses and exposed her vulnerabilities.
She shifted in the chair remembering their fight that morning. She’d shoved Ari, and she’d seen the fear in her eyes. It made her sick to her stomach. She glanced at Andre and Checkers, who now stood at the front of the line, laughing heartily together. When the food arrived she had no appetite and was content to listen while Andre questioned Checkers.
“Laurie was an amazing child. She was so beautiful, and she had so many friends. All the girls wanted to come over and play dollies with my Laurie.” She buried her face in her hands. “I ruined it. I ruined everything.”
“How’d you do that?” Andre asked gently.
Checkers sniffled quietly and wiped her nose on her napkin. “I left. I couldn’t handle being a mother.”
“I’m sure she’s forgiven you,” he said.
Molly wasn’t as optimistic since she was witnessing what a slow, painful process it was for Ari to allow her father back into her life.
He touched her coat, hoping to shift the conversation to business. “Ma’am, we need to ask you about the shooting that happened at the old school two days ago.”
Her face went white, and she bolted from the concourse. Molly and Andre scrambled to follow right behind her. She lost her bearings outside and turned in circles, a look of terror on her face. Andre quickly led her to a cement bench on a quiet patch of grass away from the noon hour traffic.
“So bad. So horrible,” she mumbled, bringing her hand to cover her mouth, as though she had said too much. The frail fingers were the texture of crepe paper and her whole body shook violently. They waited patiently for her to regain her composure. When her body stilled Andre put a reassuring arm around her shoulder.
“Checkers, did you touch the blood?”
She shook her head and clucked her tongue repeatedly. “I saw it.”
“Was that when you were eating your hamburger in the old classroom?”
Checkers gazed up at him as if he were a clairvoyant. “No, I saw the blood when I went down on the playground. She looked like she was sleeping in a red circle. On Law and Order when there’s blood, somebody’s dead. I knew when I saw her body that she was gone.”
“Did you know her?”
“I saw her once in a while. She and her little friend loved to play on the old jungle gym. They hung upside down, giggling and laughing at each other. Just the way my Laurie did.”
Molly sighed trying to check her impatience. She signaled Andre to press her harder and he nodded.
“So you went down and saw her body. But did you see who killed her?”
She turned away as if she hadn’t heard the question and clucked her tongue a few more times until he patted her shoulder.
“I need to know, Checkers,” he added emphatically. “This is very important. We’re trying to find out who killed that little girl. I need your help.”
“Just like when Briscoe and Green interview someone on TV?”
“Just like that. You’re my witness. It’s very important that you tell me what you know.”
“It was the dark man. I was looking out the window. Laurie was on the swings. I wanted to call to her but I was too far away. He stood in front of her and was waving something. I know he frightened her. He frightened my Laurie!” Checkers clenched Andre’s arm and stared into his eyes. “There was nothing I could do!”
“What happened next?”
“He faced her and then he shot her. She went down on the ground, and he walked away.”
“Did you see where he went? Did he have a car?”
“I don’t know. All I cared about was my Laurie. I should have saved her.”
“Tell us about the man, Checkers,” Molly interjected. “He was dark. Was he as dark as Andre?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“What color was his hair?” Andre asked.
“Black.”
“Hispanic,” Molly whispered into his ear.
He nodded in agreement. “What was he wearing?”
She clucked her tongue repeatedly as she thought. “Sweatshirt and jeans, but there was something else… something I should tell you.” She closed her eyes, trying to remember. She opened them and shook her head. “All I see is my Laurie and the blood.”
“Are you sure?” he pressed.
She hung her head in disappointment. “I’m sorry, Detective Green.”
They stood to go and he groaned, turning up his shoe. He’d stepped in gum. “I hate it when people are so inconsiderate.”
He sat down again and Checkers suddenly grabbed his arm. “Detective Green, that’s it! It was his shoes!”
After watching Checkers flip through five books of mug shots Molly doubted the old woman’s ability to recall anything. She’d put together a vague headshot of the killer with the sketch artist, but there were no distinguishing features. Molly suspected it wouldn’t do any good to circulate the picture. Still she seemed determined to study every potential face, but she hadn’t spotted the man that she was sure she would recognize again.
“It was his shoes,” she’d said over and over. “That’s what was different. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, but he had fancy black shoes on. Who wears fancy shoes with an old sweatshirt? And he had a metal necklace, but there was something wrong with it...”
As Checkers passed more pages without a reaction, Molly returned to the shoes. He was out of place. He didn’t belong. She motioned to Andre and they stepped around the corner.
“What if Hector Cervantes hired a hit man?”
He looked skeptical. “Why would he do that? He’s got a ton of gang members who would do his bidding. Why would he pay someone? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It would if he didn’t want it to be connected to him. All the local boys are easily recognizable. It needed to look like a random killing by a stranger.”
“No offense, Mol, but it sounds like a huge inconvenience to kill a little girl.”
“Maybe an inconvenience but possibly necessary. He has a beef with Franco Perez and decides to take out Maria as a revenge killing, but he doesn’t want to start an all out gang war so he hires someone. It’d be very hard to tie him to it. Think about the shoes. If he was a local guy why would he be wearing black dress shoes? He probably tried to dress the part, and he got out of town right after he left the schoolyard.”
Andre pondered the idea and nodded. “I suppose it’s possible.”
“Franco Perez followed me yesterday,” she said.
“Really?”
“He made it clear that if he finds out that Hector is connected to this, he’s going to personally deal with it.”
He closed his eyes obviously thinking of the consequences of a gang war. “That’s about as bad as it gets.”
They returned to Checkers’ side as she closed the last book and clapped her hands together. “What else you got?”
Molly smiled at the twinkle in her eyes. She was a likeable character, and Molly couldn’t help but wonder about her story and the daughter she claimed to have. Checkers had shed her trademark plaid jacket in the heated building. Molly saw that underneath was a sweatshirt with a cartoon cactus. No doubt a sympathetic vendor had given it to her. She was absolutely charmi
ng. Nearby was her bulging knapsack and Molly could only imagine the variety of objects that defined her existence.
“Checkers, are you sure the man was wearing black leather shoes?” Andre asked.
“Absolutely positive. He had a grey sweatshirt, blue jeans and those black shoes.”
Suddenly she reached into her knapsack and removed a worn piece of paper. She glanced at the clock and checked the paper again before asking Molly, “Do you guys have a TV? It’s almost time for my Laurie to come on.”
Molly remembered what Bruce the security guard had mentioned. Checkers thought her daughter was a TV personality. She grabbed her remote and pointed it toward the tiny set that perched on her filing cabinet. Checkers was immediately engrossed as the music for the midday newscast began.
When Andre set four mug shots in front of her, she pushed them away.
“Not right now, Detective Green. I want to wait until a commercial.”
They waited patiently until a car commercial popped up. He handed her four digital printouts that he’d downloaded from the FBI database that matched her sketch.
“Do you recognize any of these men?”
Checkers squinted at the grainy prints and studied each face carefully. “It’s hard to tell.” She sifted through them slowly, pausing briefly at one before quickly going through the other three. “It might be him.”
She handed him the first photo and turned back to the set, the commercial break over. Molly compared the information attached to the photo. She’d identified Juan Benjarano, a known hired gun. His past hits involved shooting or strangling his victims—with a pocket chain.
“Checkers, didn’t you say he had a chain?”
She chewed on her lip, thinking. “Yes, but it wasn’t around his neck.”
“Was it attached to his waist? Did it make a loop down his leg?”
She clapped her hands and smiled. “That’s it!”
Molly sighed, realizing that there was little hope of finding Benjarano quickly. David Ruskin wouldn’t be happy, but since she wasn’t supposed to be in the precinct, he’d have to wait to get the news. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly twelve-thirty, and her head was spinning. She desperately craved a drink.
“Checkers, I need to take you to the shelter.”
She wouldn’t move from the screen. Molly noticed the knapsack by the table, its main pocket slightly opened. She reached down and casually sifted through the many papers, bus transfer slips and odds and ends inside. She unzipped the side pockets to discover gum, nuts and some fruit snacks. Looking closely in one of the interior pockets she spied a flap that led to a hidden compartment. She reached into it and extracted a very old pill bottle filled with mints. Most of the typewritten ink had faded and she could barely make out the date—June sixth, nineteen seventy-two. Originally the bottle had contained benzodiazepine. The patient’s name was Millicent Jeffries. She looked up at the screen in disbelief as Laurel Jeffries signed off for the afternoon.
Chapter Eighteen
Ari glanced at the clock on the 4Runner’s dash unable to believe that most of the afternoon was gone. After visiting Stan Wertz she’d spent the day in the east valley previewing houses for a nice young couple looking to start a family. Ten houses later she found herself on the outskirts of Queen Creek, the most southern suburb of Phoenix.
She pulled into a Sonic and ordered a chili dog with fries. She’d skipped lunch, and the craving for junk food was overwhelming. Perhaps she was rebelling against all of the salads, tofu and whole grains she’d ingested for the past four months. When she took a bite of the unnatural and totally processed concoction, it felt like heaven in her mouth. Why had she shunned the foods she loved? It’s because of the heartburn and your ulcer. But it was also an attempt to motivate Molly away from her beloved scotch.
She was drinking more and doing it secretly. Jane had heard that she was often parked on her favorite stool at Hideaway, and while she no longer picked up women, she drank—a lot. Given their fight this morning, Ari imagined that she was either at the bar right now or would be shortly. And perhaps to spite her, she’d claim some stranger for a one-night stand. She’d tried repeatedly to call her unable to shake the memory of waking up to her contorted, beet-red face and the aching bruise on her shoulder from the powerful shove.
But Molly hadn’t picked up or answered her voice mail. Ari knew she shouldn’t be surprised. The minute she’d agreed to represent Biz she’d guaranteed a confrontation with Molly, one that had more fireworks than the Fourth of July.
So why did she do it? She loved Molly. She didn’t want to hurt her. Did she resent her jealousy? Was she attracted to Biz? She knew it wasn’t the money, but that was the easy excuse she’d given Molly, who didn’t believe it. She definitely enjoyed a comfortable lifestyle, and she was set thanks to some great advice from her old friend Bob, a financial advisor. It was because of him that she and Molly had met.
She popped the end of the chili dog into her mouth and opened her cell phone. She didn’t want to be alone tonight, sitting in her condo and thinking of Molly with another woman. Maybe if that’s what it took to get over her jealousy about Biz…
She dialed Jane and her father, who both agreed to a late dinner. Feeling better she pulled out of the Sonic, realizing that she was only a few blocks from the corner of Elliott and Alma School, the site of Stan Wertz’s future megastore. As she approached the intersection she looked for an empty plot of land, but each corner housed active businesses. Confused, she pulled into a busy QuikTrip gas station on her right and studied the area. The QuikTrip was apparently new judging from the shiny exterior and fresh blacktop.
She scanned the three other corners, eyeing a medium-sized office building, an L-shaped strip mall and an old Victorian home that had obviously been rezoned for commercial purposes. She couldn’t read the sign that sat close to the corner. It was as though the intersection had been designed decades ago with the Victorian in mind. While the plot of land was rather large, she doubted a huge box store could fit in the space.
She shuddered at the notion of a bulldozer chewing away the beautiful front porch and wondered if she’d made a mistake. She closed her eyes and thought of Wertz’s model. Was she right about the cross streets? Which corner was the right one? Had she confused the names? There was also an Ellsworth Road about ten miles east, but it ran parallel to Alma School.
She studied each corner carefully and dismissed the QuikTrip corner and the one to the south, the office building. It was at least five stories high and constructed in red brick. Whoever owned it wouldn’t tear it down. She’d learned enough about commercial real estate from Lorraine to know that well-constructed office buildings lasted for decades. They might struggle during hard economic times, but they inevitably bounced back if they had the right location and this was certainly a prime one.
She decided to investigate the strip mall first since it would be the easiest to access. A quick maneuverg at the light and she was cruising along the storefronts. Several were empty and property management signs haphazardly hung in the windows. A few businesses were open—Daisy’s Nail Salon, Only Batteries, Al’s Furniture Depot and a dollar store that clearly wasn’t part of a chain. Certainly not a thriving shopping center, but there were established businesses present.
“Let’s just see what we can learn,” she said.
She pulled into a parking space in front of the nail salon thinking about the chatty nail ladies she’d encountered whenever Jane dragged her in for a mani-pedi. The woman at the reception desk busily buffed her nails while another technician pampered an obviously desperate housewife who looked like she’d escaped her kids for a few hours while they were in school.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asked. “Manicure?”
Ari heard the hope in her voice. She batted her enormous false eyelashes and Ari was instantly turned off. She liked women who wore a minimal amount of makeup.
“Um, I actually wanted to ask you a weird question.�
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“Oh,” the woman said and her shoulders sank. Business was definitely slow. “What do you need to know?”
“Is your strip mall being torn down?”
The nail technician’s eyes jumped from the housewife to Ari in a second. She joined them at the counter. “Excuse me? Why are you asking that? Did that company send you here?”
Ari shook her head quickly, surprised. “Uh, no, I just wondered. This is a great location.”
The woman eyed her suspiciously. “It’s a great location and business will pick up soon. So if you’re not here to support our business I suggest you leave.”
“Um, okay,” Ari said, backing out the door. What the hell was that about?
She pulled back onto Elliott and cruised through the intersection making an immediate left into the Victorian’s parking lot. She could finally see the sign clearly—Drachman’s Fine Smokes. It was a cigar store that closed at four. She’d have to come back.
She leaned against the 4Runner and sighed. Either she’d remembered the wrong streets or something was amiss. If this was the right intersection, one of these corners was going to be redone, but which one? And when? Wertz’s model was complete. He wouldn’t have commissioned an entire design for a place he wasn’t ready to build, and there were laws about tenant notification.
She needed to see that model again, but she had no good excuse to visit him at his office. Her phone chirped, and she retreated inside the 4Runner to escape the traffic noise.
“Ari Adams.”
“Ari, this is Biz. I thought I’d give you an update.”
She laughed. “I’m the real estate agent. Shouldn’t I be the one to give the updates?”
“Well, I do tend to take charge. I’ve already had my architect over at the loft, and she’s optimistic that it will be easy to make the changes to the kitchen. So I’m ready to sign the papers. When can we meet?”
“I think it’ll need to be tomorrow. I’m having dinner with Jane and my father tonight.”
