Steamed (A Maid in LA Mystery)

by Holly Jacobs

  I laughed as if he were telling me a joke. “Thanks for the beer. You do pour a great Guinness.”

  “Tell you what, if you wait around a bit and when the bar clears out, I’ll see if I can find the computer in the lost and found. You’d never believe all the things people leave behind in a bar.”

  “Thank you. I know Cassandra would love to have it. There were pictures of the two of them on it that she’ll have lost forever if she doesn’t find it.” And hoping to convince him the thought was spontaneous, I added, “I’m so glad I thought to mention it. He always had so many nice things to say about the bar and everyone in it.”

  Willy drew back and I felt overwhelmingly relieved that there was the barrier of distance between us. He smiled and said, “I’ll definitely check. You never know what someone’s put in the lost and found box. And I have a few stories I could tell you about good old Steve. Stories his girlfriend might want to hear.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  What would be really lovely was finding the laptop and getting out of here. Willy was an odd duck.

  My phone buzzed in my purse. I went fishing and found it…at the bottom. Everything I wanted was always at the bottom of my purse.

  It was a text from Cal. Where are you?

  Why? I replied.

  I’m on your porch.

  I’m not at home.

  I know that now. Where are you? Are you investigating?

  I’m doing something for a friend. I won’t be home until late.

  My phone rang, and it was Cal.

  I pressed the button on the top and sent the call to voicemail.

  When the phone buzzed to tell me there was a message I picked it up. “Quincy, I know you’re investigating. Don’t. It’s dangerous. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  I hung up the phone and within seconds it buzzed again, telling me I had another voice message. “And if you’re not back home in the next half hour, I’m putting out an APB and bringing you down to the station for questioning. That’s right, Quince. I’ll have the police haul you into the station, and I’ll hold you as a material witness.”

  I texted him. Bite me.

  It definitely wasn’t the mature response. It wasn’t the response I’d encourage my boys to use, but it felt good.

  Thinking of Cal biting me…tiny little love nips as we finally got together for real and I got to discover just what one of his non-chaste kisses was like kept my mind fully occupied for the next hour as I nursed my Guinness and wait for the bar to clear out.

  Maybe Willy would have the computer, then I’d call Cal when I got home. Well, I’d call him after I removed Tiny’s pictures. It would be just what he needed to figure out who killed Mr. Banning. And after he found the murderer, we’d…

  “That’s it. They’re all gone.”

  I glanced at the clock. “I figured they’d all be here until last call.”

  “I kicked them out.”

  “You checked the lost and found for the laptop?” I asked hopefully.

  He held up an orange colored laptop case. “It was here. Someone put it in a desk drawer, probably because they knew it was Steve’s. I didn’t know it was here.”

  That was a lie. It was the same laptop I’d seen Willy working on the first time I visited the bar.

  He stared at me with an off-putting intensity.

  “Well, I’m relieved for Cassandra’s sake. I’ll see to it she gets it tomorrow.”

  I held out my hands, expecting him to hand it to me.

  Instead, he walked around the bar and came down to my end and sat on the barstool next to me. “Did you know anything about what he was working on?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I just know Cassandra said The Bit Part Bar was the inspiration.”

  He set the laptop on the bar and leaned towards me again. “He told me the same thing. He came in here day after day and worked at that booth.” He pointed to the last booth against the front wall. “He’d watch me work, watch the people come in throughout the day and he’d type away. His hands flew on the keyboard. Willy, I’ll be sure to mention the bar when I win my next Mortie for this, he’d say.”

  “That was nice,” I offered, eyeing the laptop. I wanted nothing more than to grab it and leave.

  “That’s what I thought. Then one day, his ex-wife called about his daughter and her school. Some problem with the kid’s tuition. He went on and on, saying how much he loved her and how he hated letting her down again. He ran out and forgot the laptop. I was curious. So, after he left, I started to read what he wrote.”

  Willy’s face was red, his eyes were bugging out. He looked furious and for the first time I wasn’t just a bit uncomfortable around the slimy bartender, I was scared. I reached in my pocket and pushed the button that turned the volume all the way down, then turned the phone on. I knew that the last person who’d called was Cal. He’d left a message I’d listened to. I tried to remember what to push in order to redial. I prayed I did it right. I tried to picture my voicemail screen. The call back button was on the bottom left…I thought.

  I pushed that area and hoped I was right.

  Willy’s eyes were glazed as if he was back at that moment, reading Mr. Banning’s script. They focused again, but were wild as they looked at me. “He’d written a script about a bar. And a bartender.”

  “I guess you were the inspiration, Willy. You and The Bit Part Bar.” I was impressed I’d worked that into the conversation. If I’d manage the redial correctly, Cal was listening. He’d know where I was. “It must have made you happy that you and The Bit Part Bar here would be known as his inspiration,” I added loudly just in case Cal didn’t hear me the first time.

  “The bartender in the script was a moron. A slimy, womanizing jerk. He was a buffoon. And as I read it, I realized that’s how he saw me. Steve saw me as a creepy man who spent his days trying to pick up women and never succeeding.”

  I thought it wise not to comment that Mr. Banning’s assessment was right on the money. “I’m sorry.”

  “So was he,” Willy said ominously. “I called Sherm to cover the bar and I took the laptop to good old Steve’s house that night. I was going to tell him that he couldn’t sell that script. I got there and parked in front of his house. I saw his girlfriend leave. I waited until she was out of sight, then I walked across the grass and went to the door.

  “Steve opened it and smiled. He invited me and thanked me for bringing his laptop. I realized I’d tracked in mud from the grass and took off my boots. Steve laughed and said it was all right. Everything was going to be all right.”

  “But it wasn’t,” I whispered. The footprints I’d steamed. They were Willy’s.

  “No, it wasn’t all right. Steve told me he’d had a huge fight with his ex about his daughter’s tuition and that his girlfriend had made him feel so much better. He said this new girlfriend was the one. He said he’d been married twice, and thought he’d loved another woman once. The wives divorced him and the other woman was getting married to someone else. Personally, I think good old Steve had too many women in his life. But he kept telling me this new one was special. She was different. They’d had a couple friends over, and when the friends left, she’d made him feel better.” Willy snorted. “Yeah, I know what that means. That’s why the other women who betrayed him, his wives, his daughter and the lady he’d loved who was marrying someone else didn’t bother him. He had a new woman in his bed.”

  Willy shook his head in disgust. “If you ask me, all women are the same.”

  I wanted to assure him I wasn’t asking. I realized the woman-getting-married that Mr. Banning had talked about had to be Tiny. I doubted Mr. Banning had destroyed her pictures, but odds are he was that head-over-heels for Cassandra he hadn’t done anything with them. That was good news.

  I looked at Willy’s crazed face…it was not good news. I hoped Cal was listening to this. I knew I needed to get Willy to say what he’d done. So, I asked, “What else did Steve say?” />
  “He said the script was about ready to go and he was sure it was going to be a hit.”

  Willy zoned out, but his expression was even scarier. Suddenly I didn’t want to get him to confess to anything. I just wanted to go home.

  “I should be going, Willy,” I said.

  I’d explain about the pictures to Cal. He’d understand and make sure they didn’t leak. There’s no way he’d think Tiny did it, not when whacko Willy was saying he’d gone there that night after Cassandra left.

  I started to stand, but Willy reached across the bar and grabbed my wrist. “No, you should hear the rest of this. I told Steve that I’d read the script and that he had to change it. The bartender was nothing like me. He laughed at me. Laughed. At. Me. And then he said that it was too late. He’d talked to some friends about Hanky Panky and there was interest. He was sure the show would put The Bit Part Bar on the map. I screamed at him. I told him to keep the bar, but he had to change the bartender. I’d be a laughing stock.

  “He laughed and said, Calm down, Willy. Let me get you a drink. And when he turned his back on me to get the drink, I took his Mortie—his precious Mortie—and I hit him. He ran toward his bedroom then, shouting at me to cut it out. Change it, I screamed. Change the script. He grabbed his cellphone off his bed and dialed. I cornered him and hit the phone out of his hand. Then I hit him again. And again. And… Next thing I knew, he was sprawled on the bed and it was obvious he was dead. I don’t remember doing it. I didn’t want him dead, I just wanted him to fix the script.” He sounded positively perplexed. He’d just wanted a script changed, so why was Mr. Banning dead?

  Then a realization hit me. Whacko Willy had just confessed to the murder in a television interrogation worthy moment.

  Only problem was, this wasn’t TV. And I wasn’t a detective. I was a mom. I was a maid. And I was alone in a bar with a crazy man who’d just confessed he’d murdered someone.

  “Willy, it was an accident,” I tried. I just wanted to get out and get away from this crazy man. “Mr. Banning shouldn’t have written that. You’re not like that.”

  He was shaking his head and looking muttering, “Hit him. Hit him. I hit him.”

  “It’ll all be fine, Willy. I won’t say anything to anyone.” I reached in my pocket and touched my phone, praying that Cal got my message and was on his way. “No one will ever know.”

  “No. No one can ever know. They’d lock me up and I’d get the needle.”

  “Does California have a death penalty? I’ve been wondering that lately and haven’t found time to look it up.”

  He ignored my question. “No, I don’t want to get locked up so no one else can know.”

  “And I won’t tell,” I promised.

  “You might, so I’m sorry, but you can’t leave.”

  I bolted from my stool and headed for the door. Willy leaped over the bar and was on my heels and grabbed my arm. “You can’t leave.”

  “Let me go,” I screamed and hit him in the face with a fist. And because I had boys, I remembered to keep my thumb on the outside so I didn’t break it. But the rest of my fingers felt like they might be broken.

  “I can’t let you go,” he said.

  I’d read an article once that said make yourself a person to an abductor. Help them identify with you. “I’m a mom. A single mom. I’ve got three boys. And I wouldn’t want anyone to make fun of them in a TV show. I’m on your side, Willy. Bullying is wrong.”

  “Oh, it was wrong, but now no one will ever know. You’re not leaving.”

  There was a sound outside and Willy turned toward it, and at that moment, I kicked him in the crotch with all my might. He dropped my arm and fell to the floor, cradling himself.

  The door to the bar opened and Cal came in.

  “You got my message?” I asked.

  He nodded, without taking his eyes off Willy. “Police…”

  “Owwwwww,” Willy moaned.

  Cal walked over, grabbed Willy’s hand and flipped him onto his stomach, grabbed the other and cuffed him.

  Once he was handcuffed, he said, “Backup should be here any moment.”

  He pulled Willy to his feet and dragged the still moaning man toward the door.

  I saw the laptop, still sitting on the bar next to my purse.

  My giant, oversized mom-purse.

  While Cal and Willy were at the door watching for the backup, I ran over, grabbed the computer, stuffed it in my purse and walked back to the door with Cal and Willy.

  “I just wanted him to rewrite the character,” Willy whined.

  “You just wanted to kill me to keep me quiet,” I said, winding up my foot for another kick.

  “Down, Tiger. We’ve got him. He confessed to you, so we’ve got a witness. Willy, if you’re smart, you’ll make a deal with the DA and not take this to trial because we’ve got your dead to rights.”

  Suddenly Cal looked at me, “And you. You and I are going to talk about this as soon as we get your statement.”

  “Fine. I’d like to…talk.”

  “I told you I’d find out who did it,” Cal said.

  “I didn’t need you to find out. I did it myself.”

  Suddenly the realization sank in. I wasn’t going to prison. I wasn’t getting a unicorn tattoo that was sure to wrinkle in a few years. My boys wouldn’t have to go live with their father and Peri.

  I patted my purse and felt the outline of the laptop. And I had the computer, which meant, I had Tiny’s pictures, I hoped.

  Cal insisted I ride with him to the station.

  That was fine with me. I’d had a third drink of the evening, and I’d almost been killed. I shouldn’t be behind a wheel.

  “Cal, I—”

  “Be quiet, Quincy. We’re going to book Willy on murder, then we’re going to take your statement. After that, I’m taking you home.”

  “And then?” I asked, because I wanted more than Cal taking me home and then leaving.

  “And then we’re going to have a serious discussion about amateur sleuths and what obstruction of justice means.”

  I sighed. I figured as much.

  “And then?” I asked hopefully.

  Cal growled.

  I didn’t see much chance for more kissing—chaste or non-chaste—in my immediate future.

  Darn it all.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day I went into the office and gave Tiny the thumb-drive with her pictures on it. “I looked, just to make sure it was the right file, but I kept my eyes closed after that and just cut and pasted. I called Hunter and he told me how to scrub the hard-drive so there’s no versions of the pictures left. If someone really went looking, they might find it, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I didn’t want to totally wipe the drive, because I wanted Cassandra to have the laptop. I don’t think anyone will be looking for these.”

  Tiny hugged me. “Thank you, Quincy. I took your advice and told Sal. He laughed and said he’d seen my body, so if the pictures did show up, there’d be nothing he hadn’t seen before. He loves me. He’s…”

  “Perfect,” we said in unison.

  Tiny said not to worry about work the rest of the day, so I went to see Shaley at Honey’s. I told Shaley what Willy had said about her dad. He loved her, and he felt horrible about her tuition.

  She told me that she’d seen the lawyer and could go back to school in the fall, but she was going to work the rest of the last few weeks of summer anyway.

  Finally, I went to Cassandra’s. I confessed everything to her and pulled the computer out of my bag. “I probably should have given this to the cops, but they had Willy’s confession so they don’t need it. I thought you might want the pictures.”

  “A producer friend of Steve’s called to ask about the script he’d been working on. I didn’t know where it was. But with this… Well, if it sells, Shaley will have the money toward school.”

  She took the laptop and hugged it to her chest as she broke into tears. “Thank you, Qu
incy.”

  “I’m sorry I lied to you, but I needed to be sure you didn’t do it.”

  She smiled. “I loved him.”

  “I know. That’s why there’s a giant X through your picture on my whiteboard.

  “Tell me everything from the beginning,” she instructed.

  I did. The only thing I glossed over was finding Mr. Banning in the bedroom and Tiny’s pictures.

  “And Willy confessed. The district attorney worked out a deal. He’s going to be in jail for the rest of his life, but she took the death penalty off the table.”

  California did have one.

  Darn, that was a close call. If I hadn’t found the real murderer, I could have ended up on death row.

  But I knew that wouldn’t have happened. Cal wouldn’t have let it. He was mad at me—that much was clear last night as he read me the riot act. But I didn’t think he’d have been that mad if he didn’t care. And I knew that he’d have found Willy without my help.

  I was glad he didn’t have to. I felt empowered having found the killer on my own. Oh, maybe it was dumb luck, or beginner’s luck. It doesn’t matter what you called it, I’d found the murderer. I didn’t even need Cal to save me from Willy’s attack. I’d flattened the crazy bartender with one good kick.

  I left Cassandra’s with a date for coffee next week and a new client for Mac’Cleaners. But most importantly I’d found a new friend.

  I drove to Big G’s.

  “Hi, beautiful,” Big G said when I walked in.

  “Is he here?” I asked.

  “In the back.”

  “What’s his mood like?”

  “Well, let’s just say he’s a little less than his normal sweetness and light self.”

  “Oh,” That didn’t sound good. Not good at all.

  Big G hugged me. “It will be okay. I heard what happened. He’s just worried. He keeps thinking about what could have happened. I’ll confess, I’ve thought of that, too.”

  He pulled back from the hug and said, “Don’t ever do something like that again. But I’m glad you could handle yourself.”