Imitation of Death

by Cheryl Crane

  Then she had to pray that Dombrowski was doing a better job investigating than she was, or Jorge might really have to stand trial and take his chances.

  Monday morning, Nikki tried Hector’s cell phone one last time. When he didn’t pick up, she headed to Brentwood. Ina had been more than happy to tell Nikki where Hector was working and asked Nikki to remind him not to waste time because she needed him in Bel Air in the afternoon.

  Nikki knew the house; she’d sold it to the present owners. It was a lovely two-story home with an enclosed front courtyard that separated it nicely from the street. She pulled up behind the JORGE & SON utility truck; this was the truck Jorge usually drove. Nikki spotted Hector from the street; he was in the courtyard, trimming palm fronds. She walked up the sidewalk.

  “Hector.”

  From the look on his face, she was afraid he might run. He knew she’d been looking for him. He really was avoiding her. The obvious question was why.

  “You’re a hard man to catch,” she said. She pushed her sunglasses up on her head so she could look him in the eye. Because of the retaining wall between the sidewalk and the courtyard, he was standing a few feet above her. She squinted in the sunlight, her hand over her eyes. “You want to come down here and talk to me, or do you want me to come up there?”

  He dropped the bag he’d been using to dispose of the brown fronds and jumped down. “I . . . I can’t really talk. Work.” He hooked his thumb in the direction of the palm tree.

  “This will only take a minute; I don’t want to keep you from your work. Ina asked me to pass on a message, by the way; she says not to waste any time today. She needs you in Bel Air when you’re done here. And she says ‘answer your damned cell phone when she calls, the first time’.”

  He gave her a look that made her hold up her hands.

  “Ina’s words, not mine,” she said.

  He adjusted his ball cap, though it didn’t really need to be adjusted.

  “Okay, Hector, so on to business. The business between you and me.” She gestured. “You’ve been dodging me for days. What’s going on?”

  He crossed his arms, his posture defensive. “Nothing.”

  She wasn’t in the mood for this today. She was still upset about her conversation with Ellen. Ellen had made it sound as if she were protecting a confidence with Abe by not sharing that she’d been there that night. But what secret could she possibly be keeping?

  “You’re avoiding me, Hector. What is it that you’re not telling me about the night Eddie died?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He didn’t meet her gaze.

  So maybe he did have a conscience.

  “Do you know where Ree is?”

  “No.”

  “That’s funny, because the last time her roommate saw her, she was leaving her apartment with you Saturday morning. Saturday morning, while your brother-in-law was turning himself in for a murder he didn’t commit, and your pregnant wife was sitting home alone crying.”

  Hector stroked his pock-marked cheek.

  “Hector, did Ree kill Eddie? Did someone kill Eddie for her?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “Did you kill him for her?”

  His head snapped up. “No,” he said ardently. “I did not kill Eddie Bernard. Not that I wouldn’t have liked to,” he added under his breath.

  “Where did you take Ree Saturday morning?” She waited. “Hector, do you understand that there’s a real possibility that Jorge could spend the rest of his life in jail? That he could end up on death row if convicted? If you had something to do with Eddie’s death, or you know who did, you have to tell me. You can’t let Jorge take the fall for this. He’s been too good to you.”

  Again, she waited.

  “Ree had nothing to do with Eddie’s death,” he finally admitted. He looked away again. “I took her to the bus station Saturday morning. She went to Mexico.”

  “Why?” Nikki demanded.

  “Because . . . because it was over.”

  “What was over?”

  She was surprised to see his eyes fill with tears.

  “The affair,” he said miserably. “She asked me to go with her to Mexico. That night. Friday night. She swore there was nothing between her and Eddie anymore and she wanted me back. I had my bag packed. But then I couldn’t do it. I met her and I told her so.”

  Nikki remembered the morning she was at Jorge’s . . . the duffel bag beside the door. She’d been afraid Jorge was about to run. “That was your bag by the door that morning, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded. “I told Rosalia what I’d done. That I was sorry.” He ran his hand under his nose. “I’m not proud of myself. But I love Rosalia. And I love my kids. That morning . . . before you called to tell Jorge about Eddie, me and Rosalia, we talked. She told me to go if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to. So I took Ree to the bus station and I said good-bye.”

  “Wait a minute. You said you were out with her Friday night? After you got home from work. How late?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Late. I didn’t leave until after Rosalia went to bed.”

  “Did Jorge know you were having an affair with Ree?”

  He stared at his shoes. “No. No, of course not. Rosalia didn’t want him to know. She said it was between us. I think she was afraid Jorge would kick me out of the house if he found out.”

  “So Jorge might have known you were gone that night, but not known you were with Ree?”

  He looked up at Nikki. “You think Jorge thinks I killed Eddie? That I packed a bag because I was going to run?”

  “It’s possible. It would make sense. He wouldn’t even provide the police with his own alibi—that he was home with you and his sister.”

  “Because I wasn’t there,” Hector whispered.

  “Jorge wouldn’t say anything to defend himself.” She met his gaze. “Maybe because he thought he was protecting you . . . for his sister’s sake.”

  Hector stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. “I didn’t mean to do this to my family. I didn’t mean to get Jorge into trouble.”

  “The gardening shears. Do you know what happened to them that day?”

  He shook his head. “Jorge asked me to grab them after he said we should go home. We were in the back, putting tools in the shed. He was doing things to clean up. I was doing things. I thought he got the pruning shears.”

  “So they were missing?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I guess they were.”

  “Could someone have come through the side gate, taken them, and gone back to the Bernards’ without being seen?”

  Hector thought for a moment. “I guess. We were walking back and forth from the truck to the shed.”

  “Which would explain why you thought Jorge picked up the shears.”

  “There were a lot of people at Eddie’s that day. Anyone could have done it,” he said.

  Yes. But no. Her list of suspects was now short: Wezley, Ginny . . . Victoria. But Wezley was looking more suspicious to her by the minute. And what about Abe? As preposterous as it seemed, had he lost his patience with his son? Was that the secret Ellen was protecting? Of course, if she added Abe to the list, did she need to include Melinda? Maybe Melinda and Victoria did it together . . .

  She groaned inwardly. This was making her crazy. She was making herself crazy. She returned her attention to Hector, who seemed to want to say something.

  “Are . . . are you going to tell Jorge?” he asked. “About me and Ree?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t even get in to see Jorge. It’s not my business, anyway, Hector. It’s up to you and Rosalia what you tell her brother.”

  He hung his head. “I tried to get in, too. You got to have this form filled out. Ina talked to him on the phone. He doesn’t want any visitors. He won’t sign to have anyone come.”

  Nikki slid her glasses back on. “I should let you get back to work,” she said. She looked up, remembering the threatening note that was still riding around in her car.
“Wednesday morning, you were at Mother’s house. Someone left something in my car. You know anything about it? Did you see anyone in the yard when you were mowing that morning . . . someone who could have come from the Bernard property?”

  He shook his head and asked, “What did they leave?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, as much to herself as to him. There was always the possibility that Hector was still lying about something, but she didn’t think so. He was too upset. Her gut told her that while he was the kind of guy that would cheat on his pregnant wife with her cousin, he wasn’t a killer. The pain was too obvious on his scarred face. She walked away. “You have a good day, Hector.”

  “You, too.” He pulled his ball cap off and ran his fingers through his scraggly dark hair. “Nikki?” he called after her.

  She looked back.

  “Me and Rosalia, we appreciate what you’re doing for our family. For Jorge. But if it don’t work out, you can’t blame yourself.”

  She offered a quick smile. “Thanks, Hector.”

  Nikki got in her car and, as it purred away from the curb, she checked the clock on the dash. She had to get to work for the Monday Morning Meeting, but her day was pretty open after that. Maybe after lunch, she’d hit the Church of Earth and Beyond and sniff around Wezley’s office again. She had the perfect excuse: Justin ‘Beaver’ tickets.

  Chapter 26

  Nikki was just getting into the elevator at the Church of Earth and Beyond when her cell rang. She checked the screen. It was Ellen. She considered not answering it.

  She stepped back off the elevator, into the deserted hall. “Hello?”

  “I was afraid you weren’t going to pick up,” Ellen said.

  Nikki chewed on her lower lip for a moment. She stared at her shoes. She was wearing what was fast becoming her uniform on bad days: black boots and skirt and short-sleeved sweater. Victoria said she was very New York City. It may not have been a compliment.

  There was a scuff on the toe of one foot.

  Nikki looked up again. “I seriously considered not answering,” she confessed. The elevator door closed behind her. “I thought you were taping your show.”

  “I am. Lunch break one-thirty to two-thirty. I’m calling because I was upset by our phone conversation yesterday. I really wish you’d come by today.”

  “Sorry,” Nikki said. “My afternoon is busy.”

  Ellen exhaled. “Okay. Look, Nik, I really want to be friends. I like you and I think we’re a lot alike. I could use a good friend like you. I didn’t want to tell you what Abe and I have been talking about, what we were talking about last Friday night in private, because I was hoping he would change his mind.”

  Nikki was quiet for a moment. “Ellen, if this is something Abe’s asked you not to repeat . . .” She exhaled. “I wouldn’t ask you to divulge something told to you in confidence.”

  “I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to. It doesn’t matter, now, because he’s going to do it, anyway. Everyone will know in a few days.”

  Ellen had Nikki intrigued now. “Okay . . . ,” she said.

  “Abe has decided to divorce Ginny and remarry Melinda.”

  “What? You’re kidding.” Nikki began to pace in front of the elevator. This was as crazy and unexpected as the tattooed gym-rat/bouncer turned DEA agent. “Have . . . Melinda and Abe been . . . seeing each other?”

  “No. Melinda doesn’t know. Things haven’t been good between Abe and Ginny since the beginning. Apparently, he immediately regretted divorcing Melinda and marrying Ginny, but he didn’t know what to do. Then the problems with Eddie—”

  “Didn’t help matters,” Nikki interjected.

  “Exactly.”

  “So . . . there’s no affair, between you and Abe or Abe and Melinda?”

  “No affair,” Ellen said. “I told you, I’ve sworn off men. Unless, of course, Jeremy becomes available.”

  Nikki laughed, feeling immensely better. “Sorry. He’s not.”

  Ellen laughed with her, then grew more sober. “I really am sorry about this whole thing. I just didn’t know what to do. Abe has been so good to me and—”

  “You don’t have to say any more.” Nikki turned to face the elevator that would take her up to the fifth floor. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions so quickly. I knew what kind of person you were the minute I met you. I should have followed my instincts.” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s just that this thing with Jorge and Eddie . . . It’s got me so rattled. I don’t know what to think about anyone anymore.”

  “I understand completely. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you yesterday. If I were in your place, I would have reacted the same way.” She paused. “So, friends?”

  “Friends,” Nikki agreed.

  “Great. So what day can you come by the set? Tomorrow? Wednesday? We’ll be taping the rest of the week.”

  Nikki hit the CALL button on the elevator and slid her favorite Prada bag up farther on her shoulder. “I’ll have to check my calendar, but I think I have lunch open both days.”

  “Great. Then come by. Both days. Listen, I have to run,” Ellen said.

  Nikki heard commotion in the background. “Me, too. How about if I call you tonight?”

  “Perfect.” Ellen paused. “I’m really glad you picked up. Have a good day.”

  Nikki was smiling when she got on the elevator. “You, too.”

  She was still smiling to herself when she got off the elevator. Monique was at her post at her desk. Monique did not look happy to see her.

  The receptionist glanced down the hallway in the direction of Wezley’s office, then back at Nikki. “Ms. Harper.”

  “Hey, Monique. I came by because . . .” Nikki took a step closer, glancing down the same hallway. “Is he in?” she whispered.

  Monique nodded.

  Nikki took another step, now standing right in front of Monique’s desk. “I kept thinking about what you said. About you not being able to take your son to the Justin Bieber concert.” She reached into her bag. “My mother’s agent has some connection with his agent or something.” She pulled out an envelope. “So I got you four tickets for next month here in L.A.” She shrugged as she offered the envelope. “Maybe he could take two friends?”

  “Oh, my gosh. For me? For us?” Monique took the envelope and peeked inside. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.” She looked up. “Thank you so much. My son will be thrilled. How much do I owe you?”

  “Oh, no. No, they’re yours.” Nikki touched her desk. “My mother didn’t pay for them. They’re yours to enjoy.”

  Monique fanned her face with the white envelope. “I can’t believe you did this. You don’t know me. You don’t know my son.”

  Nikki grimaced. “I felt badly when you told me the story about him going back on his word.” She tilted her head in the direction of Wezley’s office. “He’s an odd duck, that one.” She went on before Monique could say anything. “He came to see me last week, after I was here. To my office, apologizing profusely because he remembered that we had met. Do you think that’s strange?”

  Monique set the envelope on her desk. “Not any stranger than half the other things he does.”

  Nikki waited.

  Monique exhaled. “Like putting a security code on his e-mail so I can’t get in.” She laid her hand on the mouse and dragged it, then pointed at her computer monitor. “It’s my job to look over his and Mr. Butterfield’s e-mail and mark what’s a priority and what isn’t.” She put up both hands. “I haven’t been able to get into his in days. But he’s checking his e-mail constantly.”

  “I wonder why?” Nikki asked. She thought she heard a door open down the hall, but when she looked, she didn’t see anyone. As she returned her attention to Monique, she heard the door close. “Any idea?”

  Monique either didn’t hear the door or was used to such goings-on. “No idea. I asked him and he told me to mind my own business.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve sent out my resume to
several places. I like this church, but I don’t like the job. I don’t like working for Wezley Butterfield. He scares me.”

  “He scares you?” Nikki asked. “What do you mean?”

  Monique shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It’s just that he’s getting worse. He seems worse since he got out of rehab. Unstable,” she mouthed.

  Nikki thought on that for a moment, but, not knowing what to do with it, she smiled at Monique. “I hope you and your son enjoy the concert.”

  Monique watched her walk to the elevator. “This was really nice of you to do, Ms. Harper.” She picked up the envelope with the tickets. “Kind of renews my faith in mankind, you know what I mean?”

  Nikki hit the CALL button and smiled. “Actually, I do.”

  Nikki made two stops on her way back to the office, one to buy dog food and treats at the pet store, the other to make a quick walk-through in a house she was having staged for its impending showing. The quick walk-through wasn’t.

  The employees of the company she’d hired to do the staging had either been drinking on the job or had totally ignored her requests. Instead of staging the Mediterranean-style villa in Hollywood in an elegant, airy Mediterranean style, with lots of light-colored furniture and plants, they had staged it like a medieval castle . . . or a dragon’s lair. The heavy, dark furniture and swords and armor were completely out of place. She spent half an hour on the phone, then waited almost an hour for someone to come to the house and take notes as to what she had in mind for each room.

  It was four by the time Nikki returned to Windsor Real Estate. She was juggling her briefcase, her handbag, and an iced chai tea when she stepped off the elevator. “Hey, Carolyn,” she called.

  “Ms. Harper.” Carolyn stood up. “Something was delivered for you by messenger. I had to sign for it and promise I would place it directly into your hands and no one else’s,” she said solemnly, offering a large manila envelope. The kind that closed with a little string.

  “Really?” Nikki walked to Carolyn’s desk. (Carolyn never left her post. Nikki wasn’t entirely certain she wasn’t tethered to the desk by an invisible string, or maybe a force field kept her there.)