by Matt Coyle
“What happened?”
“It was a misunderstanding. A friend of my father’s was just trying to collect on a debt. I have to go.”
“Wait. When was this in relation to your father’s death?”
“A few months before. I don’t remember. I really have to go.” She hung up.
I hovered my finger over the call button. Why had she mentioned my father? Why wouldn’t she talk to me about her own father if I was the only person trying to solve his murder? Had the man collecting on a debt really been a mob tough guy? I put the phone back in my pocket. I needed to talk to Ingrid Samuelson again before I made a second run at her daughter.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
I PARKED UP the hill above Kim’s house on Calle Del Oro. Far enough away not to be recognized. I used my binoculars to get a good view of the house. Kim’s BMW finally pulled into the driveway a little after eleven. She and Parker exited the car and went inside their highly leveraged house. I drove down the hill as soon as he went inside, whipped a U-turn, and parked just below the driveway. I got out of the car and took the steps up to the front door.
This time I had the stolen cane with me. It eased the pain a bit and made walking easier, but that’s not why I brought it.
I hard-knocked the door. Parker answered with Kim behind his shoulder. He looked irritated. She looked worried.
“Cahill, I was just let out of jail.” His perfect face went tight. “Can’t you leave us alone just once so my wife and I can spend some time together?”
“I need less than five minutes.”
“I’m trying to keep my temper, but you’re not making it easy. Kim is my wife. You can’t just drop by here to talk to her whenever you please. In fact, you can’t drop by here at all anymore.”
Kim grimaced, but didn’t say a word. She just stood behind her husband.
“I’m here to talk to you.”
“Rick, now’s not a good time.” Kim finally spoke up.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s a good or a bad time. We have to talk right now.” I looked over my shoulder then back at Parker. “You want to do it out here so your neighbors can listen or are you going to invite me in?”
Parker opened the door and stepped back, bumping into Kim. I three-legged it inside.
“What’s wrong with your leg?” Parker asked. The expression on his face said he asked out of curiosity, not concern.
“Somebody stuck a knife in it.”
“I guess that’s the hazard of the trade when you get paid to spy on people.”
“Jeffrey!” Kim raised her voice.
Parker headed into the living room without responding to his wife. Kim followed. I brought up the rear. Parker spun around when he entered the living room.
“Well?”
“We need to talk alone.”
“I want to be here,” Kim said.
“This is between your husband and me. Go take a drive.”
“Don’t talk to my wife like that.” Parker took a step toward me. I held my ground. Bad leg or not, I relished the chance to lay him out for the way he screwed up Kim’s life. He probably felt the same way about me. But I wasn’t going to beat a man in front of his wife. Unless I had to.
“Kim, go take a drive.” I shot a look at Kim, then zeroed back onto Parker, in case he got brave. Fear in Kim’s eyes. She walked through the living room into the kitchen and grabbed her purse off the counter.
“Where are you going?” Parker’s voice broke up an octave.
“Just tell him what he wants to know.” Kim walked toward the front door. “I’ll be back in a half hour.” She slammed the door behind her.
Parker turned back to me after he watched his wife leave his four-million-dollar home. “Now what’s so damn important, Rick?”
I whipped up the cane and jammed the rubber tip into Parker’s chest. He fell backwards, arms windmilling. His leg caught the corner of the couch and he landed on his back. I flipped the cane around, grabbing it by the tip end, and leaped one legged toward Parker. He crabbed backwards. Eyes wide in fear. That’s what I wanted. I swung the cane and connected with his right thigh. He yelped. I swung the cane. Ribs. A shriek.
I held the cane over my head and yelled, “Where’s the fucking flash drive?”
“What flash drive?” He went fetal, covering up everything vital.
I slammed the cane down onto his shin. The carved handle broke off and shot across the room. A high-pitched wail burst from Parker.
“Where’s the flash drive you took from Sophia after you killed her?” I reloaded over my head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Parker held his hands up in front of his body to ward off the next blow. “I didn’t kill Sophia!”
“They’re going to kill Kim unless you give me that fucking drive.”
“What? Who?” Terror in his eyes. “I don’t have anything!”
I tossed the broken cane onto the couch and reached a hand down to Parker. He covered up like I was going to hit him again. The adrenaline drained out of me and a sick feeling settled into the pit of my stomach.
“I’m done.” I continued to hold my hand out to Parker. He slowly reached his hand up and I took hold of it with both of mine and pulled him up. Pain shot through my leg. Not enough. I wanted more to offset what I’d just done. I directed Parker over to the couch and he dropped down into it holding his ribs.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” He rubbed his ribs with his right hand. “I would have told you the same thing if you would have just asked me without beating me with the damn cane.”
“I don’t have time for interrogation 101. Besides, I know you’re a good liar. I had to get the truth fast.” I grabbed the broken cane sitting next to him off the couch. “Sophia stole a flash drive from some dangerous people. They stuck a knife in my leg to show me they’re serious. They think you have the drive, and I have two days left to find it for them.”
“They said they’d kill Kim?”
“Yep. And me. They’ll get to you in prison or after the publicity from the trial dies down if you get off. They don’t play. They kill.”
I limped over to the wall and picked up the cane’s broken handle and headed for the front door. I turned back to look at Parker who watched me over the back of the couch.
“You don’t tell Kim about the cane, and I won’t tell her about what you did with Sophia during your down time.”
Parker shook his head. “What are you going to do now?”
“Find the flash drive or kill them all.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. I’ll be asking for his help, too.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
I DROVE NORTH up Interstate 5 to Carlsbad. Dergan Consulting. Dina Dergan. According to Stone, Sophia Domingo’s onetime, but no longer, girlfriend. Girlfriend was too strong a word. Sophia didn’t have girlfriends or boyfriends. She had hosts. She sucked what she needed from them, then tossed their empty carcasses aside. Again, Stone’s perceptions.
I was now taking Peter Stone at his word. I wondered when my car would fall into the sky. My world had turned upside down.
If Stone was right about Dergan, she had a motive to kill Sophia. Jilted lover, who’d been used instead of loved. A knife was personal. Up close. She’d see the life leave Sophia’s eyes. Forty stab wounds meant rage. Payback.
But I’d already met one woman who liked knives. And she had plenty of motive, too. Although killing Sophia before she gave up the flash drive didn’t make sense. Attaching clear thought to a sawed-off psychopath didn’t make much sense, either.
The elevator dinged open into a small foyer, which led into Dergan Consulting. A receptionist greeted me from behind a large wooden desk. Young, millennial five-day growth on his face. Man bun. The new world order.
“May I help you?” Dead voice. Dead eyes. Dead to me.
“Rick Cahill to see Dina Dergan.”
“Is Ms. Dergan expecting you?” The “Ms.” sounded like a bumb
le bee hovering in the air. There was life to him, yet.
“No, but you can tell her I’m investigating the death of her friend Sophia Domingo.”
“The police have already been here. Are you with the police?” He looked at me like it was an impossibility. It had been twelve years since it wasn’t.
“I’m investigating on behalf of Jeffrey Parker.” Not a complete lie. I pulled out a paper badge, my California Bureau of Security and Investigative Services license.
The kid looked unimpressed, his default expression, but picked up a phone and gave Dina Dergan the same story I gave him.
“Have a seat. Ms. Dergan will be out in a minute.”
I sat on a white leather upholstered bench opposite Man Bun. Behind him, young, casually dressed up-and-comers scurried about. Everyone seemed to have a purpose in the open office area. The back wall was glass and had a view of the Pacific Ocean a half mile away. The vibe was purposeful. True believers. One desk had a Sierra Club poster. Seemed an odd pairing with a consulting firm that helped businesses and wealthy celebrities cut through the Coastal Commission’s red tape.
“Mr. Cahill?” The blond woman who’d had lunch with Sophia Domingo the day of the Coastal Commission vote affirming the sale of the Scripps land to GBASD, Stone’s and probably the Russian Mafia’s green-faced shadow company. Taller than I’d expected from the photos Moira had taken of her sitting at the restaurant. At least five-ten. She wore gray slacks and a cream armless top with a flowing drop collar. She had swimmers’ shoulders and arms that a woman in her forties would want to show off. Tan, lean-muscled.
“Yes.” I stood up and put out my hand.
“Dina Dergan.” She smiled a professional smile that didn’t reach her eyes. They looked tired. The only part of her that hinted she was in her late, rather than early, forties. She shook my hand. “What can I do for you?”
“As you heard”—I nodded at Man Bun—“I’m here representing Jeffrey Parker and I’d like to ask you a few questions about Sophia Domingo.”
“Parker’s the one who killed her, right?”
“Allegedly.” I smiled. “Where can we talk?”
“I’m quite busy, Mr. Cahill, another time would be better.”
“An innocent man is about to go on trial for his life. This will only take a few minutes.”
She frowned and put her hands on her hips. I stood in front of her, the pain of Jeffrey Parker’s situation on my face.
“Alright. Five minutes.” She spun and walked down a hall to the right. I followed, pain buzzing up my leg with each hurried step.
Her office had the same view as the outer office. A huge satellite photo of the California coast hung behind her raised glass desk. A little statue of a woman sat on the corner of her desk. It looked like Medusa, but a softer rendering. Dina sat down and motioned for me to take the seat across from her.
“Go ahead, Mr. Cahill. Tempus fugit.”
“How well did you know Sophia Domingo?” I needed to find a path to ask her about the flash drive instead of just blurting it out.
“Not that well anymore. She worked here a few years ago, then left.”
“You didn’t keep in touch?”
“No. Not really.” A dismissive shake of the head for a woman she’d kissed on the lips a week ago who now rotted in the morgue. “She called for my advice a few times.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” I studied her face, waiting for a lie and hoping for a tell I could spot with a later question.
Dina studied me. Intelligent blue eyes that had suddenly discarded ten years. Maybe she spotted a tell in me. That I was lying about working for Jeffrey Parker.
“We had lunch together last week.” Eyes steady. No twitch in her lip or anywhere else. Her hands gently clasped together on the desk.
A wedding ring on one finger, a bandage on another. Moira hadn’t mentioned the ring when she spied on Sophia and Dina at lunch. Kissy-face with a woman in public when she’s got a man or another woman she’s married to at home. Open marriage or careless?
“Really?” I scratched my head. “I thought you said you didn’t keep in touch. Just an occasional phone call.”
“That’s right.” No panic. No twitch. “And we had lunch together last week.”
“Was this social or one of those advice situations?”
“This was having lunch with a former employee.” The professional smile again with a hard glint in her eyes. “Is there anything else, Mr. Cahill? I mentioned that I’m quite busy.”
“Just a couple more questions then I’ll be on my way.” I absently picked up the statue off her desk. It was heavy and made to look like it had been cast in bronze. On closer look, it wasn’t Medusa. What I thought were snakes coming from her head was hair intertwined with berries and feathers or leaves. The woman held three doves in her arms. I twisted the statue in my hand then looked back at Dina. “Mother Nature?”
“That’s one name for her.”
“Kind of a strange mascot for a firm that greases the skids for builders who want to develop the California coast.”
“You didn’t do your research, Mr. Cahill. Dergan Consulting is very discerning about the projects we take on. Almost all of them involve the best option for the preservation of our coast.”
“And where did the Scripps sale fall?” I squished up my face. “I’m guessing into the other bucket.”
“We weren’t involved in the Scripps project.” A couple extra blinks. She hadn’t been expecting to be asked about Scripps. The police must not have asked her about it. They’d already zeroed in on their suspect.
“That’s odd. Because a couple hours after Sophia left your former-employee lunch or advise-and-consent lunch or whatever you want to call it, she went down and watched the Coastal Commission vote in favor of GBASD in the sale of the Scripps land for residential development.”
Dina’s face didn’t change, but the knuckles of her clasped hands turned white.
“That was her client, not ours.”
“But she stole them from you.”
“We dropped them.” A couple blinks.
“Whatever the case, she ended up being a fixer for them.” I raised my eyebrows. “Which is strange because I didn’t think she even had a business. At least not in the ordinary or legal sense. She seemed like a free agent who did favors for people and got paid in cash.”
“I’m not familiar with how Sophia managed her life.”
“Then her calls for advice weren’t about the business she learned from you?”
“I don’t have time to learn the details of former employees’ lives, Mr. Cahill.” She stood up. “Just as I’m afraid I don’t have any more time for you.”
“We agreed on five minutes.” I smiled and stayed seated. “I think I have about a minute left. So, you weren’t in favor of the sale to GBASD? They’re green. Aren’t they the best option?”
“The only green in GBASD is greenwash.” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s time to leave.”
I didn’t move. “Did you see Sophia after the vote?”
“No.” She moved her head backwards a fraction.
“And the only time you saw her recently was the lunch last week?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you Friday night the twenty-second?”
“Is that the night the police think Sophia died?”
“Yes.”
“I was at a business dinner, Mr. Cahill.” She swallowed and picked up the phone on her desk. “Now are you going to leave or do I have to call security?”
“I’m done. Thanks for your time.” I stood up, tossed a business card onto her desk, and walked to the door, then turned back and looked at her. “The people Sophia took that flash drive from want it back. If you give it to me, I won’t tell them where I got it. If you don’t, I’m going to tell them who I think has it. Call me. Soon.”
Dina’s eyes held steady, but the tan faded from her face. She pushed a button on the phone. “Security �
��”
I left the office before she finished her sentence.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
I LIMPED BACK to my car and eased into the driver’s seat, but didn’t turn on the ignition. Dina Dergan was lying. She had the stolen flash drive or at least knew about it. Had Sophia given it to her for safe keeping or just told her about it? Or …
Despite what she said about Sophia being nothing more than a former employee, the kiss and Stone’s claim that she and Sophia had had a fling years ago said she’d lied. And her body language said the same thing about not seeing Sophia aside from the lunch. They’d at least been friends with benefits in the past and had still been friends at lunch the day of the vote. Had that changed after the vote? Dina was clearly not a fan of GBASD. What if Sophia had rekindled their relationship to get information that she could leverage against a couple Coastal Commissioners to swing the vote in GBASD’s favor?
Was that enough to make Dina kill Sophia? Not only a scorned lover, but a duped businesswoman. If Dina was a murderer and had the flash drive, was that justification enough for me to sic the Russian Mafia on her? Mine and Kim’s lives for hers? I wouldn’t have a conscience if I was dead. I looked up at the tinted window of the corner office of Dergan Consulting and could feel, if not actually see, the silhouette of Dina Dergan staring down at me.
I started the car and left the parking lot. Dina had to have watched me limp to my car from her perch on the third floor. I’d rattled her. If she had the flash drive or knew of it, she’d watched me. She’d want to know what car I drove. Following her in my Accord wasn’t an option. She knew my face, she knew my car. I needed another one with tinted windows. Or I needed someone else to tail her.
I parked a half block from Dergan Consulting, but with a view of the parking lot. I grabbed my binoculars from the trunk and set up shop in my front seat. With the binos, I could zero in on the front door and spot Dina if she exited the building.
I tapped a number on my cell phone and held it to my ear as I resumed the view through the binoculars. A few rings then voicemail.
