A Short Time to Die

by Susan Alice Bickford

  He waved them up onto the porch and into the house, which to Vanessa’s surprise was clean, odor-free, and bright, despite the looming trees.

  No mudroom, of course. This was California. They stepped directly into the living room.

  Vanessa let Jack take the lead after basic introductions.

  The syncopated rhythm of raindrops splatting on the roof followed the story she had come to know so well, which allowed her to study Mike. If Mike was growing pot, he didn’t seem worried, keeping in mind that he could have crushed them both with one hand and tossed them to the dogs.

  “You mean those bones I heard about a couple of months ago? That was on my property?” Mike jerked his thumb to point up and west, looking more intrigued than alarmed. “I’ll be damned.”

  “It took us a while to track down the ownership of that property, Mr. Rodriguez.”

  “Hey. No problem,” Mike said. “I tend to forget I own it except at tax season. Once upon a time, that was a real road and a busy track to the main ridge road for the farms and ranches up that way. But most of those properties were acquired by Open Space or some other park, or turned into smaller lots or big vineyards, and the ridge roads got broken up. We own that narrow piece along the old road. Not good for much. I’m hoping I’ll sell it someday for the view to some Silicon Valley billionaire and retire in style.” He frowned. “So who were those people?”

  Jack consulted his pad. “That’s where we were hoping you could help. Or rather, your sister, Angela. We used DNA to trace the remains to Louise and Troy Rasmussen, mother and son. Louise Rasmussen was a cellmate of your sister’s.”

  Mike’s face darkened. “Yeah. I remember those two. Mother and son, my foot. More like demon and spawn. They came here about four years ago and stayed for a while.”

  “You didn’t like them?”

  “Nasty. Always looking to pick a fight—both of them. Troy was a bit taller and a lot heavier than me, but not very fast or smart. He did what Louise said. She was pretty big too, for a woman. Most nights, they stayed in a van they’d rented. Sometimes they’d visit Angela and they’d eat together. Angela lived in a little place just over that bridge there.” He cocked his head toward the creek.

  “How long did they stay?” Jack asked.

  Mike puffed his lips, thinking. “Hard to recall. I’d say a week. Maybe ten days. I know it was mid-June when I finally ran them off. Troy killed one of my dogs. Knife. Just for the fun of it, as best I could tell. Goddamn asshole used a stun gun on me. That was how they managed to get away.”

  Vanessa leaned forward. “Could they have camped out along that cliff after that?” she asked.

  “Yeah. That’s possible. I hardly ever go out that way, and there aren’t any neighbors up there.”

  “What about Angela? Would she have taken stuff to them? Could we talk to her?” Jack pointed his chin toward the little bridge over the creek.

  Mike smiled. “Sorry. You just missed her.”

  “Will she be back soon?”

  “No,” Mike said. He pointed to an urn on a chipped and dented end table. “She died just before Christmas. She’d had hepatitis C for a long time and a couple of years ago she got liver cancer. Of course she’d already gone through a lifetime of hard living, so in some ways I was amazed she lasted almost two years.”

  “What did she tell you about Troy and Louise? Did they say why they were here?”

  Mike stared out the window, as if visualizing the past. “They said they were here to see California. But they didn’t do much sightseeing as far as I could tell, at least while they were here. They’d leave and go someplace and come back and not talk about where they’d been or what they’d seen.”

  “You said they had a van?” Vanessa asked.

  “They had some sort of panel truck—the kind with no windows. I think it was green. Sorry. It didn’t look new, but they said they’d rented it. They’d bought all sorts of stuff, like at a Home Depot. A chain saw, a little battery-operated cross saw. Lots of other things. Plus camping stuff like air mattresses and sleeping bags. Kind of creepy, now that I think about it. Well, I thought it was creepy at the time, but now it seems creepier.”

  Jack studied his pad. “Why do you think they were here? A drug deal? Some other business?”

  Mike lifted his hands. “Louise glared most of the time. Not a big talker except when she wanted something. At first she thought I was like Troy, but when she found she couldn’t push me around, she avoided me. One night, Troy told me that Louise’s mother was dying and they were going to take care of loose ends for his grandmother.”

  “Loose ends?” Vanessa asked.

  “Yeah,” Mike said. “That did make me curious, but the next day he started teasing Red, my best dog, and while I was out on an errand, he killed her, so we didn’t have any more conversations.” Mike turned his attention to outside the window where his dogs snoozed on the deck.

  “Can you account for your whereabouts on June fourteenth through the seventeenth?” Jack asked.

  Mike checked his phone. “Sure. I went on a fishing trip up in the Sierras, right after I kicked those two idiots out. I was gone for two weeks. You want the names of my buddies?”

  “That would be a good idea.”

  Jack and Vanessa stood. They handed Mike cards with their information. Mike gave them a list of his fishing friends, the fishing camp location, and the dates of his trip.

  Outside, the dogs rose to say good-bye. Vanessa held out the back of her hand to the largest one, who sniffed and gave it a lick, just as another put his nose to her butt and wagged his tail. She jumped.

  Mike opened her car door and smiled. “Come back anytime,” he said with a wink.

  “Quite a conquest,” Jack said as they pulled away. “How much pot do you think he grows?”

  “He is quite nice-looking,” Vanessa said. Do I detect a whiff of jealousy? “And he’s a citizen—not a single arrest.”

  Jack ignored her. “Hmm. Who do we know that would rent vans? For cash?”

  “I’ll ask around. Nick will know. It’s worth a check, but we’re not likely to get much love and assistance from that corner. I think it’s time to interview the loose ends.”

  19

  Marly: California-Bound

  October 2007–June 2008

  In the autumn of 2007, the curse of Charon Springs reached out to suck Marly back into its vile orbit. Her worst fears bore fruit. Charlene and Greg were arrested as part of a drug deal that had gone upside down. The only good news was that no one had been shot or killed in the process.

  Greg quickly cut a deal in hopes of sparing Charlene and he was serving a hefty prison sentence. Out on bail pending final resolution of her case, Charlene hovered for months as the judicial process ground through her life.

  Andrea Melville, in the middle of law school, worked long hours with her father on Charlene’s behalf. Half of Marly’s life seem consumed with daily tearful phone calls from Charlene and Denise, and very matter-of-fact advice from Andrea and her father.

  “We’re doing our best, Marly, but Charlene is going to have to do some time,” Andrea said in a call just after the New Year. “I think we can cut a deal for three years in medium or minimum security. Keep in mind, that could be much less if she stays out of trouble inside. You need to convince Charlene that this is going to be her best deal. Going to trial will not end well.”

  “I’ll try again,” Marly said. “Charlene is a very emotional thinker. She’s just not rational about her options unless she has no choice.”

  “She has no choice, Marly. She just doesn’t realize that.”

  “Are the kids doing okay? I call but they don’t say much.”

  “They need a plan too. Charlene seems to think your mother will take care of them.”

  “She might as well leave them in the woods to live off of nuts and berries.”

  “Are you ready to step in as a mother?” Andrea asked.

  “I sort of thought I already had.”


  * * *

  Charlene continued to work through her denial phase until March. Hammered by Marly and Andrea, she called a truce and agreed to the plea deal.

  “Will you take the kids, Marly?” she asked on a tearful phone call. Ever the optimist, she added, “There’s a good chance I’ll be out in a year or even less. It won’t be for very long.”

  “Of course I’ll take them. But it won’t be for just a year. They need stability and security. We need to come to a permanent solution for them going forward.”

  “I guess I could ask Mom. But you know she would be a disaster. Since Elliot up and died so suddenly, she’s been drinking and wandering around at night, sometimes stark naked. She might have died from hypothermia a couple of weeks ago if Paul hadn’t found her when he was on patrol.”

  “I’ve tried to talk to her, Charlene, but she hangs up on me.”

  “You need to reason with her face-to-face. And you need to take charge of my kids before Rosie does.”

  “Rosie! Why would she want to take on raising three children?”

  “Not for any good reason I can think of. But she’s so insistent and I’m so frantic that she’s wearing me down. Ever since she got out of prison, she has been hovering like a vulture. She keeps saying that Aunt Louise and Cousin Troy will be on hand to help her out with discipline and child-rearing. You’ve got to help.”

  “Shit.” Marly hung up and booked her flight.

  * * *

  The Springs hadn’t changed a bit and was still overpopulated with the Harris family and their ilk. Marly kept a sharp eye out for Rosie and Louise at every turn.

  “Things have changed. Charlene shouldn’t worry about Rosie. She’s got bigger fish to fry now,” Denise said, keeping a firm grip on her breakfast orange juice and gin that Marly tried to pry away. “She’s got cancer. Lung cancer. Not the right time to take on a bunch of teenagers.”

  “No kidding. You think?” Marly tried to spoon-feed some scrambled eggs into her mother’s mouth.

  “She’s up in Syracuse at St. Joseph’s and Louise is staying in Liverpool with a friend to be closer until they can bring Rosie home. She might die, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The sooner the better.

  “I can take care of the kids now.”

  “Mom, I think it’s time for you to have a break from looking after family. Let me take care of this.”

  With Rosie and Louise occupied elsewhere with their own problems, Marly focused on the tasks at hand.

  Within the week, Bob and Andrea Melville started the process for Marly to become legal guardian of Mark, Pammy, and Alison. Marly recruited Mrs. Haas to help find a nurse’s aide with a strong stomach and tenacious temperament to provide live-in care for Denise.

  Marly wrenched herself away several weeks later, praying that nothing more would erupt while she took on her next challenge. There was no way she could live with three children in her studio apartment.

  Fortunately, she was somewhat optimistic that she could afford an upgrade. She and Elaine had forged their second startup in the furnace of Silicon Valley as Stanford grad students. Joining the long list of entrepreneurs nurtured—or tortured—into successful businesses, their security company had been much more successful than their first. Although not extraordinary compared to many of their fellow strivers, Marly and Elaine had done well enough with their second acquisition.

  Perhaps well enough to afford a house that could hold three children and one struggling adult.

  Helen Fardig convinced Marly that she had to give up plans to live in Palo Alto or Los Altos. She needed to look for less pricy properties in places like Mountain View, which is where Helen and Elaine had houses.

  As usual, Helen came through with a place that was big enough and needed minimal work, not far from her own house.

  By the time Charlene started her prison sentence in June, Denise’s behavior had stabilized. Marly flew back to shepherd her new charges to California.

  She tried not to be resentful. She loved Charlene’s kids, but she wanted her own life. Getting them settled in meant she couldn’t go to England for the summer, as originally planned.

  She feared this would mean the end of her long-distance romance with Tony Rochford. Their relationship had blossomed when she spent a semester during her junior year at Cambridge, where he was a medical student.

  They each dated other people but kept drifting back together, sustained by semi-regular visits.

  Marly marveled that Tony was willing to sustain his feelings with so little nurturing from her side. What did he see in her anyway? Even the best seeds need watering.

  And now she needed to call him and explain that her summer trip was simply not going to happen. She was positive this would mean the end. Even if she could sneak away from time to time, she was going to be saddled with three children for the foreseeable future. Who would want to sign up for that?

  20

  Vanessa: Sacramento

  February 6, 2013

  “Man, your mother can cook up a storm,” Jack said. They were heading out to Sacramento to meet Carl Harris’s son Judson. “What did you call that rice dish?”

  “Um—arroz con lentejas y coco,” Vanessa said, trying to stay focused on the highway, slick with rain and clogged with traffic. “Rice with lentils and coconut. I’ll tell her you liked it. They were very impressed with your Spanish.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Jack, you did great. Your accent was very solid and you handled basic stuff well. Now, please let me handle the traffic.”

  Jack obliged and stayed silent until the onslaught of cars had diminished.

  “You know, it’s kind of ironic that Judson Harris works for the California attorney general’s office,” Jack said. “Didn’t anyone ask him if he had any ties to organized crime?”

  “ ‘Organized’ is not the word that comes to mind with his family,” Vanessa said. “But perhaps that’s why he wants to meet us at his home rather than his office.”

  Judson’s neighborhood had been upscale, but was now dotted with FOR SALE signs. Judson’s own little piece of paradise was a two-story pseudo–Spanish mission stucco on a cul-de-sac. The surrounding houses looked to be in good shape with no FOR SALE signs in sight.

  A blue plastic toddler-sized tricycle was parked on the front lawn next to two larger purple bikes, a row of shoes piled up on the front porch. Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and the Baby Bears—two sets of pink with sparkles and one set with a superhero on the sides.

  As Jack reached for the doorbell, the door opened, revealing a tall Asian woman in crisp chinos and a black crewneck sweater that looked soft and expensive.

  “I am Beverly Harris,” she said. “If you would please remove your shoes here in the foyer.”

  Ah. A foyer, not a mudroom. So nice to be home. Vanessa and Jack removed their wet shoes. Beverly’s accent was as crisp as her chinos. She did seem a bit tightly wound, but perhaps she was nervous. It couldn’t be easy being married to a son of Carl Harris.

  By the time Vanessa and Jack had removed their shoes, Judson and the children—two girls around seven and nine, and a boy of about three—had padded into the foyer. Judson was tall, like his father, but slim, with brown eyes and thinning reddish hair.

  The children said hello and stared back with frank curiosity until Beverly shooed them back into the recesses of the home.

  Judson ushered Vanessa and Jack into an office off the foyer and shut the door. The office was spotless. Judson took his seat in a high-end desk chair, leaving a futon couch for his visitors. He wasted no time getting down to business.

  “My dad called me after your visit. I gather you found Louise and Troy up in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Or what was left of them. I used our department systems to check on the details.”

  Jack pulled out his pad. “It doesn’t seem likely that they died a natural death. We need to figure out what happened.”

  “You’re thinking a drug deal or something like that gone
bad, I assume. That would certainly fit.”

  Jack glanced at Vanessa. “Could be. We’re also thinking that they might have been here to settle some scores before Rosie died.”

  Judson studied his hands. “Yeah. Could be, I suppose. I’ve stayed away from all that stuff for close to twenty years, but Rosie did tend to think that way.”

  “Particularly if she wanted Louise to control the family assets, not your father,” Vanessa said.

  Judson cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “Maybe. As I said, I keep myself away from the family business. One hundred percent.”

  Vanessa looked at the framed diplomas on the wall over Judson’s computer monitor. He was a lawyer. Her radar said he was sincere, a good guy who wouldn’t manipulate an interview. Still . . .

  “You must have known Troy growing up, right?” She passed him copies of pictures of his first-grade class.

  A fleeting smile crossed Judson’s face. “Yes. All too well. Troy, Greg, and I were all in the same classroom in elementary school. My brother was a couple of years ahead. Troy was always trying to pick fights with me. A real asshole.”

  “Like Greg was a model citizen?”

  Vanessa watched Judson’s response closely. To her surprise, he grinned.

  “Greggy was a good kid. He didn’t escape like I did. I could have been just like him. He sends me email. He’s got his GED now, plus an associate’s degree in computer studies.”

  “How did you get out? And your brother?” Jack asked.

  Judson gave a dry cough. “Until we got to high school, all the fights were over silly stuff. Jason was a couple of years older, and when he finished high school, my Dad sent him over to Rochester right away to work for a buddy to learn commercial building. For me, things got worse because our mom had died of cancer and I didn’t have Jason. Dad was courting Betty, so he wasn’t around much. One day during my junior year, Troy and I got into a fight waiting for the bus home. I don’t even remember the point or what set it off. The trick with Troy was to not let him get a hold of you. He wasn’t very smart or quick, but he was strong. I was a skinny kid and he was full-grown already, plus he had some sort of natural ability for ‘wrassling.’ I screwed up and he got me in a headlock. He was trying to break my neck. No doubt about it.” Judson swallowed. “Man, I was scared. I don’t even know how, but I wiggled loose. I kicked him hard in the balls and I pounded his head on the pavement.”