by J. A. Kerley
“Adam?”
He rolled his eyes. “Leave me alone, go shopping or something.”
Catherine Maruyama was already at the table when he pulled to the curb of the café. Kubiac sat. Before Maruyama could say anything past “Good morning, Adam, I’m sorry about yester—” he was talking.
“My story is even worse than yours, Cat. My father left me one dollar. He left $20,000,000 to a bunch of stupid charities and institutions. All I’ve got is a little money of my own, a few thousand.”
Maruyama put her hand on his forearm. “Oh Adam, that’s so wrong.”
Kubiac leaned close to Maruyama. “Zoe … and, uh, I came up with an idea. The lawyer’s gonna make the will say that I get everything. But it’s gonna cost me over half of my money. Half!”
Maruyama studied Adam. She reached out and brushed hair from his eyes. “Remember I told you my father was a lawyer, Adam? I know how they are. You have to pay the lawyer … He’s got you. It’s what they do.”
Kubiac slid his chair to Maruyama’s side, leaning close so others couldn’t eavesdrop. “I wanna know what you did to get all of your money, Cat. Please don’t lie to me … I know you got it all.”
She shook her head. “I-I can’t tell you, Adam. It could affect my whole life. It’s that kind of se-secret.”
Kubiac scrutinized the other customers sitting outside beneath large shading umbrellas. A pair of males in their thirties, gay, a tiny terrier at their feet. A suited businessman sipping coffee and reading the Wall Street Journal, a fortyish woman in a pantsuit with a sparkly red silk scarf around her neck and a cup of tea on the table, totally engrossed in her tablet. They were all out of earshot. He leaned closer to Maruyama. “We’re us, Cat. Upgrades. You could never tell a Neanderthal. You can tell me.”
Maruyama looked away, as if making a decision. Kubiac shot a glance at the woman in the scarf and saw her looking his way. Her eyes dropped back to her tablet. Even older women want me, Kubiac thought, turning back to Maruyama.
“Cat?” he prodded.
When Maruyama looked at Kubiac her eyes were both resolute and pleading. Her fingers were shaking. She put her lips to his ear.
“The lawyer had to die, Adam,” she whispered.
Kubiac’s mouth fell open.
Maruyama leaned away, eyes pleading. “You can’t tell anyone, Adam. I’d go to jail or prison or wherever people who k-kill people go.”
“You killed him, Cat?”
“N-no … not me. But I p-paid a man to do it.”
“How did you find someone to do that, uh, kind of thing?”
“My father got him off on a murder indictment. I knew the man was … th-that was the kind of thing he did.”
“Jesus, Cat … I can’t believe you …”
“My father was wrong, Adam. The lawyer who wrote the will should have paid attention to my interests, too. My future.”
“That’s what I told Cottrell, the bastard.”
Her fingers made the money-whisk. “This is all they care about. It’s all Daddy cared about. What’s the name of your father’s lawyer, Adam?”
Kubiac’s face wrinkled in disgust. “J. T. Cottrell. Hashtag: scumball.”
Maruyama sucked in a startled breath and her eyes widened to their limits. “Jefferson Cottrell?”
“You know him, Cat?”
“Too much. Way, way too much.”
“What, why?”
Maruyama stared into her coffee for long moments before her eyes rose to Kubiac’s eyes. “Cottrell is, was, a friend of my father. He’s a scumbag, like most of Daddy’s friends. He’d come to parties at our house and hit on me. It started when I was thirteen.”
“The asshole.”
“It was sick, Adam. Cottrell’s got a daughter not much older than me. Brenda was a nasty bitch, but she was his daughter and she was my age.”
“Did you tell your father?”
“Daddy said it was just my imagination. That Jeff was just paying me a compliment and I took it the wrong way. Daddy was d-disgusting. That’s why I didn’t tell him about the times Cottrell … a-a-about the tuh-times th-that he …”
“Slow down, Cat. I’m your friend. You can talk to me.”
“About the times he raped me, Adam, starting when I was fourteen.” Tears welled in Maruyama’s eyes and she pushed from the table, wobbly on her legs.
“I want to be home. I feel better there. Talking about Cottrell makes me feel sick.”
Kubiac stood and grabbed Maruyama’s hand. “Can I come?” he pleaded. “Can we talk more?”
“Yes, Adam. Please come with me. I don’t want to be alone and you make me feel safe.”
Kubiac nodded down the sidewalk. Though a block distant, the slender, whippy profile was identifiable. His eye went wide.
“It’s Zoe. She’s coming.”
“She can join us. I’ve been wanting to meet her.”
“If she finds out I’m hanging with someone else she’ll get real bitchy. I’ll make something up and see you in a few.”
“If that’s what you want … sure.” Maruyama hustled to the small bookshop next door and ducked inside.
Kubiac returned to his seat.
“Adam!” Isbergen said, clicking up in the brown boots. He noted clothes he hadn’t seen before. And a sparkly necklace. No wonder he was running out of money.
He pushed a smile to his face and finger-waved. “Yo Zo.”
“What are you doing?”
“Hanging. Playing a couple games.”
“You were so angry when you left. I got worried.”
“I’m chill with it, Zoe. Nothing to do but pay the man, right?”
“I’m sorry Cottrell’s doing this to you, Adam. You’re sure you’re going to go through with—”
He waved it away. “It’s over, Zoe. Hashtag: donedeal. I’ll be home in a couple hours.”
“What you gonna do?”
He held up the tablet. “Some fool in Brunei thinks he can take me in Combat Zone. I’m gonna fry his Arab ass. Can you go to the store, Zo? I’m almost out of Bull.”
“Sure.”
“And get some Hot Pockets and Tostitos, would ya?”
Isbergen bent over Kubiac and kissed his forehead. “It’s good to see you back. Being the Adam I love.”
“Yeah. See ya. Don’t forget the Tostitos.”
When Isbergen turned the corner, Kubiac went into the bookstore. Maruyama was nowhere to be seen. He saw an elderly clerk putting books on a shelf.
“That girl who was here a few minutes ago, black hair, white dress. You see her?”
“She was looking at the magazines by the window. Then she seemed to see something that made her upset and she ran out. She went that way …” The clerk pointed to the direction of Maruyama’s apartment.
Adam Kubiac knocked and rang the doorbell simultaneously. Maruyama opened the door seconds later, looking up and down the pavement. “Is she with you?”
“Zoe? No … she went out to get some food stuff. Why?”
Maruyama went to the door and stood on the stoop, looking down the street.
“She didn’t follow you? You’re sure?”
“What’s going on, Cat? You’re scaring me.”
“Her name’s not Zoe, Adam,” Maruyama said, closing the door, her voice tense. “It’s Brenda.”
“What?”
“I haven’t seen her in years. But I’m sure it’s her.”
“Who is she?”
“Cottrell’s daughter. Remember I said her name was Brenda and she was about my age? That’s her.”
“Wh-what’s going on, Cat?”
“Sit down, Adam. Tell me about Zoe … everything.”
* * *
When we returned to the hospital Benjamin Novarro was looking much better, color returned, eyes bright. Flores said there was nothing more to be done at the hospital, Ben needing only rest and food and hydration. Ben sat in back as Novarro drove us to her house.
“We went to the church las
t night, Ben,” Novarro said, looking into the rear-view. “Do you have any idea why it happened?”
“No. None. Maybe I was just there. Maybe it was someone crazy.”
I turned in the seat. “You’re on someone’s shit list. We have to figure out who and why.”
“Where were you last night?” Novarro said. “Before you found you were locked out of your apartment?”
“At, uh, that little Methodist church over on Belmont.”
“Church?”
He reddened and looked at his shoes. “There’s like these meetings there. Uh, AA.”
“Jeez, Ben,” Novarro said, “don’t be ashamed. That’s great.”
The kid swallowed hard and turned away.
And then we were at Novarro’s home. Ben leaned on me as I walked him into the house and set him on the couch. His arm was in an inflatable cast and his face and side were bandaged. Novarro made coffee and brought her brother a bean and bacon taco that he ate greedily. Novarro sat on the couch and looked at me. “Ready for another day of Meridien, Carson? God forgive me, but I am so tired of that name.”
Ben looked up from his taco. “Meridien?”
“A case,” Novarro said.
He frowned. “It wouldn’t be Leslie Meridien, would it? The shrink?”
37
Adam confessed every aspect of his brief period with Isbergen to Maruyama: Meeting her at the café, moving from the sprawling Scottsdale home he hated – his father’s commanding presence in every room, crack and crevice – to her apartment two days later, how she’d been instrumental in arranging the deal with Cottrell. Maruyama listened intently, now and then asking a question, mostly about timing.
“You said Zoe showed up not long after your father died?”
“She sat next to me at the café. I went there every day.”
“She approached you?”
“She came to my table and sat down. Said I looked deep in thought. She made me laugh.”
“They’re working some angle, Adam.”
“You know this law shit, Cat,” Kubiac pleased. “Hashtag: Help.”
Maruyama thought. “I’ll bet Cottrell’s going to hit you up for more money. He’ll say he’s reconsidered the risks he’s taking and needs more. It’ll probably be a sob story.”
Kubiac’s mouth dropped open. “He did that yesterday!”
A sigh. “I knew it. Pay him, because it’s the only way you’re going to get any money. He’s in control, Adam. They’re in control. You’re stuck.”
“They’re trying to steal my money.” Kubiac stood and began pacing, his face growing from anger to determination with each succeeding pass around the room. He stopped in front of Maruyama. “I can do it, Cat,” Kubiac said, pounding a fist into his palm. “Cottrell raped you, and he and his daughter are trying to screw me. I can kill him.”
Maruyama shook her head. “It might be justice, but it’s too dangerous.”
“My uncle used to take me hunting in Utah. Sheep and stuff. I’m a good shot.”
“No, Adam. It scares me to have you in danger.”
Kubiac paced another two turns around the room. “We’ll hire the guy you used to kill your father.”
“He’s in prison. He got caught for robbery not long after he … did what I needed. D-don’t think this way, Adam. It scares me.”
“I’ll kill Cottrell, Cat. You won’t have to think about him ever again, and I’ll get all my money. Hashtag: justice.”
“It doesn’t just happen like that, Adam. Think about it.”
Kubiac leaned back and thought, a frown settling over his features. “Shit. If I shoot his scumbag ass, the will still says I get nothing. He’s not going to change it to me getting the money until I sign some papers that give him half my money. Now he’s raping me.”
“You have to sign, Adam. It’s the only way.” Maruyama paused, stood, went to the window and looked out with arms crossed. “Unless …”
“Unless what, Cat?”
“Unless you signed the paper and we could get into his office. We could destroy the paper. If the will has already been changed, everything will work.”
“I can hack into Cottrell’s security system. The sign outside says what kind it is. I’ve done that kind of system before. It’s easy.”
“Where?”
“I opened Meridien’s gate by getting between her system and its central core. I’ve done other hacks. Code is what I do.” He paused, his eyes pleading. “Will you help me?”
* * *
Ben Novarro had no idea Leslie Meridien had been killed, but like many of his generation, Novarro’s little brother wasn’t big on watching the news or reading papers. He shook his head in disbelief. “Horrible. Unreal.”
“How did you know Dr Meridien, Ben?” his sister asked.
“It was after I quit school last year. I felt completely lost and drifting. Remember?”
“It’s in the past, Ben. Keep going.”
“Two of my former instructors kept calling, trying to get me to come back. It went on for weeks. Then one of them, Professor Evelyn Galen, showed up at my door and handed me Dr Meridien’s business card. Professor Galen said that she’d talked to Dr Meridien about me and wanted me to contact the doctor. It took about three weeks and more prodding from Dr Galen, but I finally made an appointment and showed up. Dr Meridien and I talked for over an hour and she took me on.”
Novarro looked stunned. “Wait. You were one of Dr Meridien’s patients?”
“Dr Meridien worked with a few people like me. Pro-pro—”
“Pro bono. For good. Free. How long did you see her?”
“I went to like two dozen personal sessions and four or five group sessions over four to five months.” A sad smile. “Guess I didn’t learn much.”
“For crying out loud, Ben,” Novarro said, not hiding the exasperation in her voice, “why didn’t you tell me you were seeing a therapist? Were you ashamed for some reason?”
Ben swallowed hard. “I wasn’t ashamed, Tash. I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Confusion. “Disappoint me? How in the world does your getting help disappoint me?”
“I know how bad you feel when I … fall down. I figured if I told you I was seeing a psychologist, you’d get your hopes up high like you always do. Higher even. And if – or when – I failed again, you’d feel worse than ever. I didn’t want to do that to you, Tash, hurt you again. I wanted to make sure I was truly clean and sober before telling you about Dr Meridien. And the AA meetings.”
Novarro hugged her brother tightly. “Oh Ben Ben Ben … my beautiful Ben.” She leaned back and looked him in the eyes. “What was it like with Dr Meridien?”
Ben’s voice dropped low. I had to lean in to hear him. “She was super smart and super nice. She told me there was no difference between me and anyone else there.” He paused and swallowed hard. “It was nice of her to lie like that.”
“Lie?”
Ben looked at his hands. “Most of the others in the groups I was in were rich kids or smart. Super smart, like geniuses. I didn’t belong with people who studied medicine and computers and science. They were all Einsteins.”
“You’re a genius in your own right,” Novarro scolded. “You can stand with them any day. Stop doubting yourself.”
He wiggled his fingers. “I fix simple shit with my hands.”
“You’re brilliant with mechanical systems, Ben. You always have been.”
“Mechanical systems?” I said.
Novarro nodded at me. “Ben is truly a genius with anything mechanical. It’s like an extra sense.”
“The mechanical boy,” I whispered to myself.
Novarro frowned. “What?”
“Mashburn’s mechanical boy. It’s Ben … It has to be.” I popped open my briefcase and fished out the photo taken in Meridien’s backyard. “You know these people, Ben?” I said, holding it to his eyes.
“Sure. Brad Shackleton, Geraldo Trujillo, Darnell Mashburn, Catherine Maru
yama. I took the picture.”
“That was your group?” I said.
He nodded, entranced by the photo. “I think Dr Meridien wanted us to talk out our problems. To relax. And get used to—”
“Wait …” Novarro interrupted. “Darnell said the mechanical boy was hiding from a big blue sissy. Was that …”
Ben cleared his throat. “I, uh, maybe told Darnell that I had a cop sister and I didn’t want her to know I was seeing a shrink. I expect I told Geraldo Trujillo, too.”
“Ben, Trujillo is dead. He was killed in a hit and run.”
It took a moment to sink in. “Jesus. Geraldo was a nice guy. Jumpy and a little odd, but I guess that’s why he was there.”
I pulled Novarro aside. “Two of the four are dead and someone just tried to kill your brother.”
“I gotta make a call.” She stepped quickly to the kitchen.
“So …” Ben said, looking at me. “You guys serious?”
“Uh, I like your sister a lot, Ben. We’ve gotten close.” I paused, recalling our deshabille when he’d tumbled into the living room. “Uh, that was probably a poor choice of words.”
“Tash doesn’t do anything but work and worry. She needs someone to make her smile. She used to smile a lot more.” He frowned. “But most of that’s on me. I haven’t given her much to smile about lately.”
“Going to a twelve-step is the best way to get her smiling again, Ben. Getting clean. And seeing Dr Meridien, though you probably should have told your sister. She’d have been overjoyed.”
He thought a moment, leaned close. “Don’t tell Tash, Detective Ryder, but I think I’m gonna get clean for good this time.” He paused. “Something in me feels hopeful.”
I winked. “Our secret.”
We bumped fists just as Novarro returned. “I upped the security on Mashburn’s house. OK, Ben, tell me about this Catherine Maruyama. We’ve got to find her.” She didn’t add if Maruyama’s still alive.
“Her nickname was Cat. Everyone liked her. She was funny and smart and was nice to everyone. But she’s gone.”
“Where?”
“Her father had a temporary job in Phoenix. She flew back to Japan a few months ago.”
I turned to Novarro. “Darnell said Maruyama flew into a red sun. The Japanese flag is a red sun.’
