by Dianne Emley
“You did the right thing by calling me. I’ll be right over.”
Nan crossed the lawn and reached Emily and her group. Ashton was there, as was Emily’s friend Aubrey, whom she’d known since kindergarten.
The teenagers stopped talking when Nan approached. After saying quick hellos, Nan said to her daughter, “Em, time to go.”
Emily said, “Everyone’s going to Lucky Boy. I was just going to ask you right now. Can I go? I’ll get a ride home.”
“I’ll drive her home, Mrs. Vining,” Aubrey said.
“Mom, it’s not even eight o’clock,” Emily whined. “We just want to talk and decompress. I’m too upset to just go home.”
Nan knew Aubrey’s family well. Her parents had been a tremendous help when Nan had been gravely injured a few years ago. She wouldn’t have given a second thought to letting Em go to the local burger and burrito stand with her friends if Ashton wasn’t with them. Still, it would be easier if she didn’t have to bring Emily with her to the Hayword home. She didn’t know what she would find there or how long she’d be. She’d prefer not to drive Emily all the way home and then drive back to the Haywords’. She looked at her watch. It was 7:45.
“It’s not even eight,” Emily reminded her.
“Okay. Be home by ten.”
Em gave a little jump. “Thanks, Mom.” She started walking with her friends toward the school gates.
Nan called after her, “Do you need money?”
Emily shouted over her shoulder, “I’m good.”
Ashton raised his hand as if to guide Emily along, letting it brush against her back before dropping it between them where Emily grabbed it.
Nan knew that Emily’s infatuation with Ashton would end. She couldn’t guess why or when, but she hoped it was soon and with a minimum of heartache for Emily. Nan texted Sergeant Early and let her know about Melissa Hayword’s call. She pressed SEND. Even though she had a reputation for being a lone ranger, Nan did feel relieved that someone was watching her back.
Chapter 21
The Haywords’ picture window had a baseball-size hole with cracks radiating from it. The front of the house and the porch were covered with broken eggs.
Nan saw a black wreath on the front door. It was made of gathered satin ribbon with two long ribbon tails. It partially covered a row of three square beveled glass windows at the top of the door. She rang the doorbell and Melissa Hayword opened the door right away.
“Thank you for coming, Detective Vining.”
“You’re welcome and please call me Nan.”
“Of course. Please call me Melissa.”
“Will do.” Nan remarked about the black wreath, “That’s an old-fashioned tradition when there’s a death in the family that’s all but disappeared.”
“True,” Melissa said. “That wreath was my grandmother’s. She used it on the front door of her house in Springfield, Missouri.”
Nan noticed that the circles beneath Melissa’s eyes were darker than when she’d last seen her. She was again neatly dressed in a crisp blouse, slacks, and pumps but a different selection than yesterday. Nan pointed at the broken window. “I can help you cover that until you can get it fixed. Do you have any plywood?”
“I have wood and nails and duct tape and those sorts of things. I can do it. I’ve been a widow raising two kids on my own for years. I’ve learned to do a lot of things by myself. Getting that raw egg off…That’s going to be a nasty job. Please come in.”
She turned and headed for the dining room, looking shaky. “It’s all starting to sink in. I need to sit down.”
Nan held on to her arm and walked with her, pulling out a chair from the dining room set. After Melissa was seated, Nan picked up a Pasadena PD business card from the table and said, “Officer Natalie Gates took your report. She’s great.”
“Yes. Very kind and compassionate.”
“Can I get you something? A glass of water?”
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
Nan went through the doorway into the kitchen. The small kitchen in the 1940s-era home looked recently refreshed with new paint, floors, countertops, sink, and faucets but had not been remodeled. Nan could see seams in the squares of granite on the countertops, a cheaper alternative than a solid slab of stone. The linoleum floors were textured to mimic hardwood. Nan had made the same economical choices when she’d done a small updating of her kitchen.
She took a guess at which cabinet held the glasses. She guessed wrong, found them on the second try, and took out two tumblers. As she put ice and water from the refrigerator dispenser into the glasses, she closed her eyes, sensing the impossible tragedy that had occurred in this household.
She carried the glasses into the dining room. Melissa had already set out two coasters for the glasses. Nan set down the waters and took the chair across from Melissa.
“Thank you.” Melissa took a drink from the glass.
“You’re welcome.”
Melissa stared dully at a small cut-crystal vase on the table, which held a bouquet of faded freesias, the stems in water that had gone murky. “Officer Gates did me the courtesy of not claiming this was a random act of vandalism. She agreed that our house was targeted because of Jared being accused of murdering Mrs. Keller.”
“Emotions are running high. I’m sorry that idiots are lashing out at you.”
“I wonder if it wasn’t a distraction.”
“What do you mean?”
“When the front window was broken, somebody also broke into Jared’s bedroom.” Melissa took another sip of water, the ice clinking in the glass, and stood. “I’ll show you.”
Nan followed her into the hallway, where she went into the first room on the left. An overhead light was on. White wooden blinds were pulled up over a double-hung window. The bottom pane of the window was smashed and a breeze was blowing through the opening. Beneath the window were an IKEA quality desk and a desk chair with a mesh back. Broken glass covered the desk. Strewn on the carpet were complex Lego models of castles, towers, and characters that Nan guessed had been on the desk or the windowsill and knocked off.
Nan went to the desk and picked up the end of a computer power cable that was still plugged into a power strip on the floor. “Was a computer stolen?”
“Jared’s laptop. That’s what they came for. They silenced Jared and they wanted his research too.”
“Who’re ‘they’?”
“The people who murdered my husband and Jared. This isn’t an ordinary burglary. Look.” Melissa went to a chest of drawers. On top was a man’s jewelry valet. Made out of wood, it had velour-lined compartments on top and shallow drawers beneath. She picked up a watch from the top and handed it to Nan. “This is solid gold. It’s worth at least five thousand dollars. It was a gift from Jack’s parents when he graduated from law school. Why would burglars take the laptop and leave this?”
Nan returned the watch to Melissa. “The laptop was near the window. There are a lot of smash-and-grab robberies in this neighborhood.”
“Maybe there are, but that’s not what happened here.” Melissa bent over to pick up a wood-and-brass penholder with stands for two pens that had been knocked onto the floor. There was a brass plaque on it with engraving Nan couldn’t read. A black pen was still in one of the stands. Melissa set the holder on top of the desk and began searching the floor. She yanked out the desk chair and stooped to reach beneath the desk, retrieving a fountain pen and a brass letter opener. She returned them to their proper places on the holder.
“This was a gift to Jack from the parents of a victim in a child trafficking case Jack had won. It’s a nice pen set and Jared loved using it. He appreciated nice writing instruments and stationery, just like his dad.” Melissa opened a desk drawer, took out a Crane stationery box, and opened it, showing Nan a set of ecru-colored executive-size stationery embossed at the top with JOHN HAYWORD.
She pulled out a matching envelope from a batch in a divided section of the drawer and handed
it to Nan. The envelope’s back flap was embossed with John Hayword’s Reno office address. Melissa seemed proud to show off this aspect of her husband’s life. “Jared loved using his dad’s pens and stationery, even down to the color of ink Jack had liked—navy-blue.”
“Nice.” Nan wondered if by Melissa’s showing off her dead husband’s possessions, she was trying to manipulate her. “It’s touching that Jared maintained a connection with his dad this way.”
She gave the envelope back to Melissa and walked around the small room. It was painted light pewter with bright white trim. The bed was covered with a denim comforter and pillow shams in red, white, and navy plaid. On the walls were posters of characters from The Lord of the Rings movies. Nan recognized them because her boyfriend, Jim, was a huge fan and they’d watched all the movies together—him for at least the tenth time. Nan now realized that Jared’s Lego models were inspired by The Lord of the Rings. A wall was covered with framed awards and commendations. They were mostly Jared’s, but Nan also saw John Hayword’s college and law school degrees.
Over Jared’s bed was a large, brooding photograph of Stonehenge. On another wall was a poster version of a Victorian painting of a striking man wearing a cape thrown over a shoulder.
“That’s Lord Byron.” Melissa pointed at the poster. “Jared was especially fond of his poetry.”
“He’s on the syllabus for my English literature class,” Nan said. “We haven’t gotten to him yet.”
“He’s one of the great poets of the British Romantic era. Jared came home with that poster a few months ago and declared that Byron was his favorite poet. They were studying Byron in Erica Keller’s class.”
“Did you ever meet Mrs. Keller?”
“Yes, I did. She was a nice woman and dedicated to her profession.”
A small table in a corner had three chess sets on top, all with games in progress. A bulletin board on the wall above it was covered with neatly arranged clippings and notices affixed with brightly colored plastic pushpins. Some of the same notices were on Emily’s bulletin board: an announcement about the school musical; a Habitat for Humanity project; notices of summer internship opportunities.
Nan leaned in to look at a newspaper clipping. It had a photo of Jared in a suit and tie holding one side of a plaque and shaking the hand of a man who held the other side of the plaque. Erica Keller was beside Jared. She was wearing a sedate dress and heels, but her long and loose blond hair and bright smile still gave her a California golden-girl aura. This photo was the first time Nan had seen Jared standing. His physique was rangy but well proportioned. He stood a head taller than Erica, even in her heels. His smile was subdued, his lips closed. Even in the hazy newspaper photo, he was darkly handsome and his eyes shone with intelligence and intensity.
“That’s when Jared won first place in the Pasadena Star-News Young Journalist competition.” Melissa took a step toward the wall that was adorned with degrees and certificates and pointed at the Young Journalist Award.
“When was Jared’s essay published in the newspaper?”
“About two months ago.”
“Melissa, who specifically do you think wanted Jared eliminated?”
“The two men who lost the most because of Jack’s investigation into the Silver Spur scandal: Bernard Saxena and Eli DePaul. Barney Sax—that’s what everyone called him—owned the Silver Spur Hotel and Casino for decades. It was a shabby place but a local favorite. Barney made most of his money from underground poker games. He used the casino to launder the illegal gambling money. Eli DePaul was the chief of the Silver Spur Police Department, which consisted of DePaul, a deputy chief, three officers, and an administrative assistant. DePaul handled protection for Barney’s gambling business and shook down deadbeats.”
“Where are Saxena and DePaul now?”
“DePaul’s in the federal prison in Victorville, California, out in the Mohave Desert. He’s serving life without the possibility of parole for his role in the murders of two men who owed him money. Barney Sax was in the federal pen in Herlong, California, not far from Reno. He struck a deal, cooperated with the prosecution, and got a light sentence. He’s already out on parole. I hear he’s living near Lake Tahoe, running a cabin motel with his new wife.”
Nan stroked her chin, thinking about what Melissa had said. “DePaul’s in prison for life. Sounds like Saxena has moved on and made a new life for himself. Their empire is gone. Their power is decimated. They may still have money and contacts and the will to hire hit men, but other than revenge, I don’t see what they have to gain in having both your husband and your son murdered.”
“Revenge is a powerful motive.”
Nan didn’t disagree, but under the circumstances, she didn’t think it was enough. “Other than those two, who else would want your husband and son dead?”
“DePaul’s second-in-command turned state’s evidence and is in witness protection. The other officers were charged with lesser crimes and most of them are out of prison now. I understand that many of them have moved out of Nevada. Barney Sax’s longtime bookkeeper, Yvonne Zuniga, was the whistleblower. She laundered money for Barney but her conscience got the better of her and she made the whole thing come tumbling down.”
“Where is she now?”
“I believe she’s still living in Sparks, Nevada, outside Reno. Jack offered to set her up in witness protection but she refused. She’s raising her granddaughter, Isabella.” Melissa frowned as she turned something over in her mind. “The girl must be about eight years old now. Yvonne’s a brave woman.”
Nan studied Melissa and didn’t say what was on her mind: Melissa’s scenario wasn’t impossible but she didn’t think it was likely.
Melissa seemed to read her mind. “Please at least consider what I’ve said. Jared had done a lot of digging into the Silver Spur case and put himself in danger. I’m not just a grieving wife and mother who’s grasping at straws. There needs to be justice for what’s been done to my family.”
Chapter 22
Nan started to drive home on the surface streets. When she neared South Arroyo Parkway, she turned down it, thinking she’d take the 110 home instead—also knowing that she’d pass Lucky Boy, the hamburger stand where Emily had gone with her friends. She made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t spy on Em, that she would trust her daughter was where she’d said she was going to be, but as she drove past the burger and burrito joint on the other side of the busy, divided boulevard, she barreled through the traffic and made an illegal U-turn in a break in the median strip, ignoring the blaring car horns of the irate drivers she’d cut off.
She parked at a red curb behind a pickup truck near Lucky Boy and left her car engine running. With the truck shielding her, she got out of her car and peered at the crowd of people at picnic tables and benches outside the restaurant. Emily and her friends had taken over two tables. Emily was sitting beside Ashton and sharing onion rings that had been served in a cardboard box, dipping the rings into small paper cups of ketchup.
Emily was laughing at something someone had said. Nan took a moment to enjoy her beautiful daughter, who was full of joy and promise but who had much to learn about life. Ashton reached for another ring, pausing to look at Em, his expression sweet and loving. Nan had a pang of feeling badly for spying on them, but it quickly passed. She returned to her car and pulled into traffic.
At the intersection with California, instead of making another U-turn and driving toward the freeway and home, she again made an impulsive decision and headed to Lower Arroyo Seco Park. She pulled her car into the dirt lot where she’d parked the night the bodies had been discovered, about twenty-four hours ago. There was another car here in this lonely place, but it didn’t surprise her. People traipsed about the semiwilderness area at all hours.
The yellow tape marking the crime scene’s outer perimeter and inner perimeter had been taken down. There weren’t even a couple of cadets or volunteers posted to make sure no one came poking around for trophies
. The Keller and Hayword killings had been already boxed up and filed away.
Nan took her Maglite from the glove compartment and also got her Walther PPK, which she’d stashed there in its ankle holster. She was again wearing skinny jeans but strapped the holster over them. She put on a white fleece jacket that she’d tossed into the car before she’d left the house. The late spring night air was chilly and damp. She zipped up the jacket almost all the way, tugging the stand-up collar close around her neck. There were no streetlights but the waning full moon was still bright. It was too cold for the crickets to come out. The only sound came from the 210 and 134 freeways, which were a distance away. The low roar of the ceaseless traffic traveled surprisingly far.
Guided by the beam of her flashlight, Nan walked to the other car, an older Audi, and shone the beam over the vehicle. Scratches and dings along the doors and bumpers testified to years of careless driving. Nan noted that the registration tags were current. There was a faded Obama-Biden sticker on the rear bumper.
Nan tried the driver’s door. It was locked. She shone the flashlight around the interior. The ashtray was full of cigarette butts and there was an empty package of American Spirit cigarettes crumpled on the floor along with empty takeout coffee containers. On the front passenger seat was a canvas briefcase with the zipper open, a laptop and documents crammed inside.
Nan headed into the park. Moonlight permeated the darkness, silhouetting the trees against the indigo sky. It was after nine o’clock. Erica Keller and Jared Hayword had died earlier than that. The coroner’s investigator had estimated that it had happened around six or seven o’clock. Still, the park would have been just as lonely and unwelcoming. Hardly a place for anything other than an illicit meeting or murder.
The grid of sticks and twine that Forensics had erected was gone. The terrain of patchy grass, brush, and rocks looked barely disturbed. Nature was going about its business with the side effect of obliterating the tragedy that had occurred here. Nan headed up the low hill. At the crest, she stopped, turned off her flashlight, and looked around. The area felt even more remote without the crowds and equipment. She imagined different scenarios for Erica’s journey up that hill and down into the ravine. She saw a man dragging her kicking and screaming, losing her shoe. The man stunned her with a Taser when she fought too much and she fell and hit the back of her head. Or maybe he hauled her semiconscious from having already injured her head after being pushed. Her feet dragged on the ground and she lost a shoe. She came around and struggled, and was tased. Nan wondered if there had been duct tape over Erica’s mouth.
