***
Quang Pham, Kim-Ly’s teenage neighbor, opened the door and let JP inside.
“Thanks for seeing me again. I just have a few more questions,” JP said.
“Sure.” Quang sat down at the table that looked out at Kim-Ly’s old apartment. His laptop computer set in front of him with three books to his left and several sheets of paper on his right. The only other thing on the table was a jade statue. JP took a seat next to him.
“Have you seen anyone coming or going from Kim-Ly’s apartment since we last spoke?’
“Nobody, except the landlord was there once.”
“How do you know it was the landlord?”
“Because he owns this building, too.”
JP picked up the jade statue from the table and admired it. “This is beautiful. Who is it?”
“King-Monk Tran Nhan Tong,” Quang said. He reached for the statue. “It’s...it’s my mother’s. She would be very upset if anything happened to it.” He stood up, took the statue over to a shelf, and placed it there.
“Who is King-Monk what’s-his-name?”
“Tran Nhan Tong,” Quang finished the name for him. “He was the third king of the Tran dynasty. He became king when he was only twenty-one years old. He gave up the throne fifteen years later and became a Buddhist monk. He’s best known for being the founder of Vietnamese Zen Buddhism.”
“That’s interesting. Are you Buddhist?”
“No, we’re Christians, but I like learning about our culture.”
“That’s a good thing,” JP said. “So, have you seen the man with the big, black car?”
Quang shook his head. “No. He hasn’t been back, at least not that I’ve seen.”
“What about Kim-ly or Jade? Have you seen either of them?”
The teenager looked down at the floor when he answered. “No. . .no, I haven’t.” He looked back up at JP and said, “I need to get back to my homework. I have a project due tomorrow.”
JP thought he had hit a nerve. He already suspected that Quang had a crush on his attractive neighbor. He wondered if Quang had snuck back into Muffs to get a glimpse of Kim-Ly.
Chapter 35
The Martinez Case
Children: Ray, age 2 (M), Falicia, age 5 (F), Jesse (Jesus), age 7 (M)
Parents: Father—Gilberto Martinez, Mother—Juanita Martinez
Issues: Abuse, Domestic Violence
Facts: Mother beat the father with a lamp in front of the children. Alcohol abuse by both parents.
“Yes, I’m sure it’s okay to give you the name of the person Juanita was with,” Bob said. “She assures me that she had no part of the hit-and-run on the judge. In fact, she said she would be pleased if you could clear her name.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she said that,” JP said, as he responded on his cell phone.
“Okay, she said something more like, ‘Tell that private dick to get his head out of his ass and figure this out so they’ll leave me alone.’”
“That sounds more like the lovely Juanita. So, who was her chauffeur?”
“Her name is Reyna Garcia. I even have an address for you, but I’d like to go along if I could.”
“You would?”
“Yeah. You know, to protect my client’s interest and all.”
“Right. Sure, you can come. I’d like the company. If you’re ready, I’ll swing by and pick you up in a few.”
“See you shortly.”
JP hung up the phone and wondered just how bored Bob was that he wanted to accompany him. Or was he up to something?
***
Bob and JP pulled up to the address Juanita Martinez had provided them. A blue, 1998 Mazda Millenia sat in the driveway in front of the light, coral-colored adobe cottage. Geraniums created a sea of red across the entire front of the house, stopping only for the three steps leading to the doorway. The lawn was green but it needed mowing.
Reyna Garcia opened the door before the two men reached it. “Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she said in a raspy voice. She stood about five-feet-ten without shoes. Her body was solid but not fat, nor did it appear shapely, a fact well-disguised by her choice of long tunic and black pants. Her attractive, almost regal, face was covered with tastefully applied make-up.
“Reyna Garcia?” Bob asked.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“That means queen, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“I’m sure you well deserve your name.” He winked at her and reached out to shake her hand. “I’m Bob Clark, Juanita Martinez’ attorney, and this is the private investigator for her children. He’d like to ask you a few questions.”
JP frowned at Bob, wondering why he was acting so strangely. Bob always charmed the ladies, but today he seemed almost flirtatious.
“Come on in, boys.” Reyna stepped back and let them pass. Then she took JP by the arm and led him into the living room and to the sofa. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some ice tea?”
“No, thank you,” Bob said. He sat down in an overstuffed arm chair.
“Lemonade, perhaps?” When no one responded immediately, she said, “I could make a pot of coffee, if either of you would like coffee?”
“No, thank you. We’re just fine,” JP said. “We just have a few questions. A week ago Tuesday, Juanita told us you gave her a ride to her home. Is that correct?”
Reyna seated herself in the middle of the sofa right next to JP, brushing her leg slightly against his as she sat down. He scooted his leg over and crossed his feet.
“Oh yes, honey. She needed to pick up some clothes and to have a little ‘you-know’ visit with her man.”
“Did you go inside?”
“No, I ran a couple of errands while she had her visit. I went to Walgreens and bought some Tylenol. I had a terrible headache that day.” She cupped her hand over her chin, her head tipped downward, and rolled her eyes up as if she were thinking. “Then I put gas in my car. Afterwards, I stopped at one of those drive-by coffee buildings and picked up a cup of coffee. I drove back to Juanita’s and sat in the car and drank my coffee while I waited for Juanita to finish her business. I think the caffeine in the coffee did me the most good.”
JP looked at Reyna. “The most good?”
She looked directly into JP’s eyes, holding his gaze. “Yeah, more than the Tylenol for my headache. Anyway, it went away.”
JP felt uncomfortable, and he looked back at his notepad. “Do you know what time you left the house after you picked Juanita up?”
“Around six, I think.”
“What were you driving?”
“My Mazda. It’s the only car I have. Juanita told me that she may be a suspect for the hit-and-run of that judge. She couldn’t have done it. I know that because she was with me, and I know I didn’t do it. You’re more than welcome to look at my car. It has a few dings, but nothing recent. I mean, you couldn’t kill someone with your car and not get a few dents, right?”
“Would you mind?” JP was ready to stand up and put a little distance between Reyna and himself. She was attractive enough, and seemed nice enough, but something about her made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like people in his space and she was just too close.
“Not at all,” Reyna said. They all stood up and once again she took JP’s arm and led him through the dining area and toward a door. “We’ll go through the garage.”
JP thought Bob must have noticed how uncomfortable she made him because JP heard him snicker. Leave it to Bob to enjoy someone else’s discomfort.
She opened the door and stepped inside the garage. “See. No car in the garage.” She pushed the button to open the garage door and they walked outside to examine her Mazda.
Bob stood back while JP examined the entire car. He looked carefully at the bumper, the fenders, and the front end of the car. It appeared to still have the original paint job and no indication of a recent accident or crash of any kind. JP bent down and looked under the car. When he started to stand up, Reyna
leaned over to see what he was doing. He almost hit her chin with the top of his head, but she pulled back. That’s when JP saw it.
He tried to sound unconcerned when he spoke. “Thank you, Reyna. You’ve been most helpful.”
JP moved quickly toward his pickup. As soon as he was inside and Bob was seated, JP turned to Bob and with a red face said, “You son-of-a….”
Bob burst out with laughter before JP could finish his sentence and continued to laugh throughout the long rant of profane words JP spouted to describe his friend.
“What…haha…gave it…haha…away?” Bob’s words were barely understandable for the laughter.
“I saw her…no, his Adam’s apple, you jerk! Now I know why you were so eager to go with me. I should’ve known.”
“She’s quite…haha…attractive, don’t you think?” Bob removed his glasses and wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes.
“You ass! I’m going to get even, you know. And when I do, you better watch out.”
Bob doubled up with laughter.
“You’re so ornery a snake couldn’t bite you without dying,” JP muttered as he drove away.
Chapter 36
The Durham Case
Child: Matt Durham, Defendant
Type: Delinquency case
Charges: Two counts of First Degree Murder
Victims: Hannah Rawlins & Mason Usher
Facts: Double homicide. Two teenagers bludgeoned to death with a baseball bat.
Bob and Sabre were just finishing their lunch at Pho’s. She took some money out of her pocket and laid it on the bill just as her phone rang. It was a local number, but it was unfamiliar to her.
Bob stood up. “Go ahead, take it. I’ll take care of the check.”
She answered it. “Hello.”
“This is Tracie Rodrigues. I work at the high school in the coach’s office. You know, with Coach Arviso and the other coaches. I’m a student worker.” She sounded nervous and Sabre tried to tell her she knew who she was as soon as she said her name, but Tracie kept talking. “I talked to you the other day when you were here…about Matt and other stuff. Remember me?”
“Yes, I remember you.”
“I gotta go,” she said suddenly and hung up.
Bob returned from the cashier. “That was quick.”
“And strange.” Sabre’s forehead wrinkled. “That was a student worker whom I spoke to the other day on the Durham case.”
“What did she want?”
“I don’t know. She gave me her name, and then said she had to go and hung up. But she must have wanted to tell me something or she wouldn’t have called.”
They walked out of the restaurant and to Bob's car.
“She probably just got busy. Maybe another phone call came in. These kids can’t do more than one thing at a time,” Bob said. Sabre still looked concerned and confused. “We’re right here by the school. Let’s go over there.”
“Do you have time?”
“Yeah, it’s early.”
Bob drove out of the lot, made a right, went through the intersection, and pulled into the school parking lot. “Nam-yam-yam-ya-nam,” Bob chanted, as he pulled into a parking spot.
“What is that you’re chanting?”
“It’s the parking lot chant to Brodenia, goddess of love, lust, and parking spots. It works every time.”
“But you didn’t even say it until you were already pulling into the spot.”
“It’s all about timing.”
“You’re strange,” Sabre said.
They stepped out of the car and walked onto the campus. The lunch hour had ended and most of the students were back in class. A few stragglers walked across the quad. Sabre didn’t bother to stop at the office and check in. She just moved forward as if she belonged.
When they reached the gym, Bob said, “Do you want me to wait out here?”
“That would be best. She may be more comfortable talking to me alone.”
“You don’t suppose I can smoke out here?”
“No,” Sabre said emphatically. “And you don’t smoke anymore, remember?”
“I know, but it was always so much fun smoking on campus. It just feels like I should.”
Sabre shook her head and walked inside. The smell of sweaty bodies hit her the minute she entered. Even though the locker rooms and the gym were down the hallway, the odor lingered. Two boys in shorts and T-shirts and a coach, dressed the same way and carrying a clipboard in his hand, walked past her. Sabre tried the first door to the office, but it was locked just as it had been the last time she was there. She then went around the corner and down the hallway a few steps to another door, passing a large window where she could see Tracie sitting at her desk and talking to a man. The door was open. She entered the small office.
Sabre waited for a moment. The man said, “Thanks,” to Tracie and he left.
“What are you doing here?” Tracie asked abruptly. She waved her hands in a dismissal gesture. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m just surprised.”
“You called me and then you hung up. I was concerned.”
“Everything’s good. I shouldn’t have called.”
Sabre stepped closer to the desk where Tracie sat. “Tracie,” Sabre said softly. “What is it? What do you know that you need to tell me?”
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Why don’t you tell me and let me decide.”
Tracie fiddled with her hair, twisting it around and around her finger, letting it go, and then doing it again.
“What is it, Tracie?”
“I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of who?”
“I’m not afraid of someone. I’m afraid that if I’m wrong, it could hurt someone.”
Sabre put her hands on the edge of the desk and leaned in a little toward Tracie. “Do you think you’re wrong about what you saw or heard?”
“No, I know what I saw. But what if I’m wrong about what it all means?” Tracie stumbled over each word.
“Just tell me what you saw. I don’t need to know what you think it means. Just breathe…and talk to me.”
Tracie took a deep breath. “You know how Matt said he filed that form about the missing bat the day after the game?”
“Yes,” Sabre said gently.
“He didn’t.”
“And how do you know that? I thought you said you didn’t remember filing it?”
“I didn’t file it. That’s just it. Friday, the day of the Poway game, I went through the file in Coach Arviso’s desk and removed all the old forms. Only one recent form remained in the file and it was for a missing basketball. On Tuesday afternoon just before I left for the day, I filed all the new forms that had been filled out. There were three of them and none of those was from Matt. Matt’s form for the bat didn’t show up until later. We discovered it when your PI was here talking to Coach Arviso.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because I didn’t really think it mattered until I remembered something else.”
“What was that?”
“On Wednesday morning, the day after Hannah and Mason were killed, I was alone in the office and I went outside for my break, but I forgot my soda and I came back in through that door over there.” She pointed to the door behind her desk. “We always keep that door closed and locked, but I have a key.”
Sabre leaned in and listened.
“When I came back in I was behind this file cabinet.” Tracie stood up and positioned herself behind the cabinet. “I could see right through that big glass window, but no one could see me.” She stopped.
“Tracie, what did you see?”
“I saw Matt Durham. He was leaving this office and he had a paper in his hand. He went across the hall to Coach Arviso’s office. He looked around and then he went inside. He stayed in there for about a minute or two. He peeked out of the door before he came out, and then he hurried away.”
“Did he have the paper in his han
d when he came out?”
“No.” She twisted her hair again.
At first Sabre wondered why Tracie stood so long behind the file cabinet watching Matt, but then she remembered what it was like to be a teenage girl and have a crush on a guy. And at that point in time Tracie had no reason to believe Matt was a cold-blooded killer.
***
Bob was on the opposite side of the basketball courts when Sabre walked out of the gym area. He walked across and met her.
“He killed those kids,” Sabre said quietly.
“Who?”
“Matt. He killed Hannah and Mason. He beat them to death with a bat,” she said disgustingly.
“So? You already knew he did it. What’s the big deal?”
Sabre took a deep breath and blew it out. “I guess I knew it, but now I know I know it.” She threw her hands up. “And I didn’t want to know it. I think what bothers me most is Matt’s reaction to the photo of Hannah. I can’t get that out of my mind. You should’ve seen the look on his face when he saw her bloody, battered body. How did he become such a monster?”
As they started walking across the campus toward the parking lot Bob broke the disquieting silence. “Some people are just monsters,” he said. “This isn’t anything new. The history books are filled with them: Jack the Ripper, Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, Hannibal Lector.”
Sabre chuckled in spite of her anger. “Hannibal Lector isn’t a real guy.”
“No, but he’s like the real guys. They’re just evil. I think it’s in their DNA.”
“It just seems like there’s more now than there used to be.”
“There’s more people now. Hence, more monsters.”
“Yeah, but this is my monster. I’m representing him.”
Bob looked directly at her. “You know the drill. You take your clients as they come to you. You represent them, protect their constitutional rights, and let the chips fall. You do the best job you can. Chances are he’ll be convicted and justice will be served.” He paused. “Or, better yet, you let someone else represent him when he goes downtown to be tried as an adult.”
The Advocate's Ex Parte (The Advocate Series Book 5) Page 17
