by Dianne Emley
Mary Ann put the business card into her jeans pocket and stepped aside so Nan could enter. “Ryan’s at the gym. I’m here with my husband.”
“You’re clearing out the house already?”
Mary Ann pulled the screen and again secured it over the open door. “We’re only moving out Erica’s things. Ryan wants them gone.”
Nan showed her surprise.
“He says that having Erica’s things around makes him sad and he’s already sad enough.”
“Is he living here?”
Mary Ann picked up the vase. “Well, it is his house. His and Erica’s. His now. They were still married.” She raised her eyebrows as if to say there was nothing she could do about it. “Come into the dining room.”
Nan followed her from the entry. An arched doorway on the left led to the living room and one on the right went into the dining room. It was a charming space with bay windows covered with sheer curtains gathered on rods at the top and bottom. The chairs had been pulled away from an oval dining room table that was draped with a sheet. On top were packing materials and crystal stemware, glassware, vases of various sizes, and a partially filled box. A giant roll of bubble wrap was on the floor.
Nan thought the task looked daunting, especially with the emotional component. She had experienced a lot in her life, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around having to pack a murdered daughter’s belongings.
Mary Ann said, “Our friends and family have helped with the packing. We’re almost finished.” She set the vase on the table and ran her hand down its curved shape. “Erica loved this house. Gives me a chance to sort of be with her one last time.”
“Is the dog staying here?” Nan recalled Principal Jodie Rivers’s concern about him.
“No. My husband and I are taking Mr. Darcy. We have a nice yard for a dog. It’s best. Ryan works crazy hours and we didn’t want Mr. Darcy to be left alone. I know the poor dog misses Erica.” She unrolled a length of bubble wrap and covered the vase with it. “It’s been overwhelming. We haven’t even had Erica’s funeral yet and we’re cleaning out her house. Ryan couldn’t care less about the funeral arrangements other than deciding to have Erica cremated without discussing it with us. My husband told me to give him the benefit of the doubt. Ryan’s grieving, not thinking clearly, and so on. My husband is much nicer than I am. I’m upset with Ryan.”
“Did you say your son-in-law’s now at the gym?”
“That’s where he said he was going. He’s been in and out. He gets bereavement leave but he was already on administrative leave for harassing Erica at school, so I’m not so sure what’s going on.”
Nan looked at a built-in breakfront that took up a wall in the dining room. Through the beveled glass doors, she saw the cabinet shelves were empty. Framed photos were stacked flat on the chest. She picked up the top one. It was a portrait from Erica and Ryan’s wedding. She looked through the others. There were wedding photos and vacation photos. “Ryan doesn’t want these pictures of Erica?”
Mary Ann put the vase into a box. “At first he wanted us to take everything. No wedding gifts, no photos. He said, ‘Take it all or it’ll go to the junkman.’ Now he says he wants to look through the pictures and maybe keep some.” She added sadly, “I wish he would.”
Nan heard footsteps approaching from the back of the house.
Erica’s father entered the room. “Well, hello there.”
“Steve, this is Detective Vining from the Pasadena Police.”
“Nice to meet you.” He didn’t ask what Nan was doing there. In Nan’s experience, law-abiding citizens weren’t bothered by the police being around.
Mary Ann said to her husband, “We’re talking about Ryan wanting to get rid of all Erica’s things.”
Steve said, “He’s having second thoughts now about their pictures and some of her personal belongings. I can understand him not wanting the crystal and china and all that. He’s confused and doesn’t know what to think.”
Mary Ann hooked her thumb at her husband. “See what I told you about him?” she said, and for a moment, there was genuine emotion: gratitude for her husband’s solid presence.
“Sounds like Ryan is really angry with Erica,” Nan said.
“They had problems lately, as I’m sure you know.” Mary Ann applied sealing tape to the wrapped vase. “Ryan can be the sweetest man. When he and Erica first started dating, we all loved him. They seemed perfect for each other. He was a ladies’ man and he liked to party, but Erica said he’d gotten that out of his system before they got married. She told us that he made her feel safe. Ironic, isn’t it?”
Nan silently agreed. “How did Erica and Ryan meet?”
“She was skiing with girlfriends in Lake Tahoe. Ryan was there, skiing with buddies. They started a long-distance romance. When they got engaged and Ryan was trying to get a job in the L.A. area, she was afraid his past would be a problem because he’d gotten into trouble when he was with the Reno PD. He’d been drinking and crashed his personal car. The department made him go to AA meetings. Ryan had been sober for a few years when he met Erica. They were really happy at first, but eventually, Ryan went back to his old habits. Erica didn’t care if he went out with his buddies and usually it was just a normal guys’ night out. Nothing crazy. But every so often Ryan would have a bad day at work or something and get drunk and belligerent. His cop buddies covered up some of the fights and things he got into. Even a quiet dinner at home would go sideways if Ryan started drinking too much. Erica and Ryan both wanted kids, but Erica didn’t want to start a family until he straightened himself out.”
“What led Erica to file for divorce?” Nan asked.
Mary Ann looked at Steve and shook her head as if she wasn’t able to tell the story.
Steve turned his eyes toward the floor for a moment before again looking at Nan. “We knew Ryan had a temper, but we never dreamed he’d hit Erica. She told us that he’d grabbed her by the arm and swung her against a wall. She’d confronted him about a waitress he’d been flirting with at a bar. She’d found out about it and accused him of doing more than flirting. He threw right back at her that she was having relations with her student, Jared. She wasn’t, of course, but Erica had made the mistake of telling Ryan that Jared was writing her letters and giving her gifts. Over dinner one night she’d told Ryan about her situation with Jared, just a wife and husband talking about their work lives. She said that Ryan was helpful and advised her to talk to the school principal. But after Ryan hurt her and threatened her and she made him leave the house, he went off the rails about her and Jared.”
Mary Ann sighed. “My poor daughter. She was only trying to help that boy. She knew he was fragile and didn’t want to embarrass him or have him try to kill himself again. She was going to throw away his letters, but I told her to keep them, just in case she needed to prove that he was obsessed with her. So she kept them locked up somewhere. She was hiding things from Ryan at that point and didn’t want him finding them. Steve and I will never understand why Erica met Jared at that Stoner Glen. Makes no sense.”
“Did Erica smoke marijuana?”
Steve chuckled at Nan’s question. “She might have in college, but not recently. Erica liked her chardonnay and margaritas, but that was about it.”
“Do you think Ryan murdered Erica?”
Mary Ann and Steve again exchanged a glance and Steve was again the one to answer. “When Erica got the restraining order against Ryan, we were of course afraid for her safety. I was the one who suggested she buy a gun.”
Mary Ann waved her hands. “I thought nothing good could come of that.”
“I took Erica to buy that little Beretta and we went to a gun safety class and to the gun range. She was a darn good shot.” Steve looked away, smiling sadly.
Mary Ann picked up the thread, letting her husband compose himself. “When Ryan told us about Erica’s murder, we never considered that he had anything to do with it. It was obvious that it was her student, Jared Hayworth.”
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“Hayword.” Her mistake with Jared’s name rankled Nan.
“Ryan came to our house to tell us personally about Erica,” Steve said. “We appreciated that. He was with a lieutenant from the Pasadena Police. I don’t remember his name. Everything that night was a blur.”
“Latino. Good-looking.” Mary Ann glanced away as she remembered. “Thick dark hair with silver at the temples.”
“Lieutenant Beltran,” Nan said.
Steve raised his index finger. “That’s right. Nice guy.”
“Very nice,” Mary Ann agreed. “Caring.”
“How was Ryan’s demeanor that night?”
“He was crying,” Mary Ann said. “He was crushed. He could barely get the words out.”
“I know what you’re suggesting, Detective.” Steve drew back a corner of his mouth. “I’ve gotten cynical in my old age and I asked myself the same thing: Is Ryan faking? His grief looked genuine to me, but I am bewildered by this.” He raised his hands to indicate how Ryan was obliterating Erica from his life.
“My poor girl.” Mary Ann briefly closed her eyes. “The past few months of her life were hell.”
“Had Erica changed recently?”
“Over the past few weeks she was quieter than usual.” Mary Ann glanced at her husband who nodded. “We talked on the phone almost every day, but our conversations were shorter. I asked her if everything was okay and she said, ‘Mom, I just have a lot going on right now.’ I didn’t press her because she did have a lot going on, but she seemed secretive. It wasn’t like her.”
Nan again looked at Erica and Ryan’s wedding photo lying on the breakfront. “Erica took an overnight trip to Reno, Nevada, from April twenty-sixth to twenty-seventh. Do you know anything about that?”
Again, the Inmans looked at each other, as if after having been married so long, they spoke as one person. Mary Ann said, “Erica never mentioned that.”
“There was that essay she helped Jared with about his father,” Steve said. “That took place in Reno, but it was published months ago. To my knowledge, she didn’t travel there to do research.”
“Mary Ann and Steve, in going through Erica’s things, did you happen to find her cell phone, laptop, or tablet?”
“No,” Mary Ann said with surprise. “Are they missing?”
“Yes. If you find any of them, please call me right away. Do you mind if I have a look around?”
Mary Ann hesitated, but then said, “Sure. Go ahead. Everything’s a mess, but…”
“No worries. I won’t look at the mess.” Nan started down the hallway.
Chapter 35
Nan quickly surveyed the layout of the house, walking down the hall and finding three bedrooms and two bathrooms. She went into the master bedroom. The bed had been carelessly made with a comforter haphazardly pulled up and assorted pillows tossed onto the top. The room had French doors that opened onto a patio and a small yard with a lemon tree and raised planter beds.
Nan opened the drawers of a dresser. Some were empty and some had men’s clothes. The tiny closet in the older home was also empty. Erica must have used it with Ryan relegated to a closet in a different room.
A room across the hall was set up as an office with a whitewashed wood desk. There were bare picture hooks on the walls. On top of the desk was an organizer with cubbyholes and drawers still full of correspondence and bills. In a desk drawer, Nan found a hair clip, a bracelet with a broken clasp, and a notepad with A NOTE FROM ERICA printed at the top. She did not find a single electronic device. There was a stand-alone computer monitor on the desk but no computer for it to be plugged into.
Sitting on the desk chair, Nan pulled out a handful of current bills from a cubbyhole for the mortgage, utilities, and credit cards. She glanced through bills from Visa, Macy’s, and Nordstrom. The balances were not high and the previous month’s balances had been paid in full. She didn’t find any bank statements and decided that Erica had viewed them online, like Nan did. File folders in a desk drawer organized household bookkeeping, school classes, insurance—all the paperwork of a normal life.
She heard a vehicle and looked out a window to see Ryan’s silver pickup truck coming up the driveway. She sped up her search, hearing the back door open into the kitchen followed by Mary Ann saying, “Hello, Ryan. How was your workout? By the way, a detective is here.”
Ryan said angrily, “Detective? What detective?”
Steve said, “From the Pasadena Police. What’s her name, honey?”
“Just a minute.” Mary Ann started digging inside her jeans pockets. “I have her card here someplace.”
Ryan demanded, “Where is she?”
Steve sounded apologetic. “She’s somewhere in the back of the house.”
“What? You just let her go through my house?”
Nan heard footsteps in the hallway. She closed the drawer she’d been searching, intercepting Ryan outside the office door.
Ryan’s hair was damp and he looked buff in a fresh T-shirt with a Gold’s Gym logo. “Nan, what were you doing in there?”
“Erica’s parents let me in.”
“So you think it’s okay to go through my house?”
Mary Ann and Steve were behind him in the hall. Mary Ann said, “We didn’t see any problem with it, Ryan.”
Steve was watching with his head tilted up as if trying to find the right focus through the lenses of his glasses.
“The problem, Mary Ann, is that this is my house.” When Ryan turned to speak to his mother-in-law, he took a step back from Nan, giving her room to squeeze past, brushing against him.
He followed Nan down the hallway. Mary Ann and Steve backed against the wall when he passed. “Where’s your warrant, Nan?”
Nan said without turning, “I don’t need a warrant. I was invited into the house by an authorized person. You know how that works.”
“Does Beltran know you’re here?”
“No. I don’t run my schedule past him, nor would he want me to.”
“Erica’s murder is a closed case so there’s no official reason for you to be here. Are you just snooping?”
Nan had reached the foyer but something attracted her attention in the living room and she moved to stand just past the arched entry into it. There was a low-pile area rug in shades of green on the tile floor in front of the couch. On top of the rug was a coffee table that had a square glass top.
“Nan, I asked you a question.”
She slowly turned and looked at him as she went to the screen door and rolled it open. She stood on the threshold, preventing him from closing the front door.
“Answer my question, Corporal.”
Nan met his eyes. “I was invited into this home by Erica’s parents.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Why are you so mad at Erica?”
Her question had caught him off guard and he blinked. “Are you going to leave of your own free will or do I have to call the police to remove you?”
“I’m leaving.” She reached into her jacket pocket and took out Erica’s flight itinerary with the Post-it that she’d found in her trench coat in her classroom. “Erica went to Reno shortly before she was murdered. She may have gone to this address in Sparks where a woman named Yvonne Zuniga lives. Why?”
Ryan’s expression didn’t change but his blue eyes grew icy. “Have a good day, Corporal Vining.”
“Sergeant Keller, always a pleasure.” Nan stepped past the threshold and he slammed the door in her face.
Inside her car, Nan thought about Mary Ann describing how Ryan had dragged and shoved Erica. She thought about the deep gash on the back of Erica’s head that the coroner investigator had said she’d gotten not long before she died. In Ryan Keller’s living room, the corners of the glass coffee table were sharp and the nap of the area rug beneath it had appeared recently scrubbed.
Chapter 36
The vintage neon sign of the Frontrunner Motor Inn stood high above Huntington Drive among the shops,
restaurants, and occasional dive bar near the Santa Anita racetrack. The owners of the 1960s-era motel had kept its original retro colors with the building painted off-white and each of the room doors a different pastel hue. There were few cars in the parking lot. The asphalt was shiny black from what looked like a recent slurry coat and the diagonal lines delineating the parking spaces had been freshly painted.
Nan parked outside the office, where the original flagstone trim on the exterior walls had been preserved—long passé but now midcentury modern cool. Before she got out of her car, she texted Emily to see how she was doing. The girl responded right away, saying she was fine and binge-watching Downton Abbey…again. Nan smiled.
A buzzer rang when Nan opened the door to the motel office. She entered a nicely appointed reception area furnished with new contemporary furniture. A tall table against a wall had a hot beverage setup with coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. Nan guessed that the motel was family owned because of its cozy charm and attention to detail. She no longer felt as badly about Erica having met a lover here in the last days of her life.
Behind the front desk, an Asian young man wearing a blue checked dress shirt tucked into khaki chinos greeted her with a warm smile. “Good evening. How can I help you?”
Nan took a business card from a stack in a plastic holder on the counter. The cards were printed with a drawing of the motel sign and identified the owner-manager as Ming Mei “Mary” Cheng.
Nan handed the young man one of her business cards. “I’m Detective Nanette Vining with the Pasadena Police.”
He eagerly nodded while looking apprehensive. He stepped back to make way for a petite, middle-aged Asian woman who had come out of an office on the right. She was wearing a red silk blouse over black slacks. On her left ring finger was an unusual wedding band of green apple jade and diamonds. She took off a pair of reading glasses and they dangled from a jeweled chain around her neck. “I’m Mary Cheng, the owner. This is my son, Winston. How can I help you?” Her speech had a slight Chinese accent, while her son sounded American born.
