by Lois Greiman
There was a moment’s hesitation then, “Is he an inmate here?”
I took a stab in the dark. “An employee.”
“Just a minute, please.”
I was put on hold. No music played in the background, or maybe it was drowned out by the sound of blood pounding in my ears.
“I’m sorry, it seems Joe already left for the day.”
I let out my breath in a whoosh. “Joe?”
“Joseph Pitmore. That’s who you wanted, wasn’t it?”
“Pit, right? They call him Pit?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, then, “Can I ask what this call is concerning?”
“I just…I’ll call him at home,” I rasped, and hung up.
So this had nothing to do with Micky. Nothing at all.
Unless…
My cell phone rang, causing me heart palpitations and a near collision with an oncoming pickup truck.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Christina.”
It took me a second. “Mr. Manderos.”
“I am only calling to see how you are faring this fine day.”
“Oh…” I swallowed, a little shaky. Why had he had a gun? And why bring it to my office? “I’m fine.”
“Good. That is good. Everything is well between you and your lieutenant, I hope?”
I vaguely considered reiterating that I didn’t claim ownership, but my mind was busy elsewhere. “Yes. Sure. No problems.”
“Good. After some thought, I worried that I may have caused trouble between you. It was not my intent.”
“No. No trouble.” That was just an outright lie. There would always be trouble with Rivera.
“Then it would not be problematic if I stopped by again sometime?”
I remembered Rivera’s warning, Julio’s affinity for linen, the Glock. “Stopped by?”
“You are not afraid of me again, are you, Christina?”
“No. I…” I paused. “Why me, Mr. Manderos?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You could have your pick of women.”
“Surely you are not saying that you think yourself unworthy.”
I thought about that for a second. Maybe I kind of was, but I denied it. “No. I just mean, why me? Why now?”
“Because I believe you need a friend.”
“How do you know?”
There was a moment of silence, then, “I know what it is like to need a friend. To be in danger. But I shall stay out of your life if that is your wish.”
His voice was smooth, melodious, almost hiding the hurt. Guilt flooded me.
“No. I didn’t mean that. I would love to see you.”
“You are certain?”
“Of course.”
“Very well. I shall hope to see you soon.”
We hung up a moment later.
My hands were almost steady by the time I reached home, but Julio’s phone call had reminded me of the gun. I treaded softly past the couch where Pete still slept and took the Glock from the drawer in the end table. Then I trundled Harlequin into the Saturn and hurried off to the office.
Bruce Lincoln was my first client of the day. He’s wealthy, intelligent, and ridiculously good-looking. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a dog the size of a brontosaurus tied to the leg of my desk.
“This is Harlequin,” I said, tone placid. I had taken two Sudafed for my stuffy head and felt duly hazy. “I hope you don’t mind him visiting. I couldn’t leave him home today.” I had tried to think of an eye-popping lie to explain his presence, but my mind was busy elsewhere. So screw it; this was my office, I could bring in a llama and two Siberian tigers if I wished.
“You having your house fumigated or something?” he asked.
“Nothing so dramatic,” I said, and turned the conversation aside. “I haven’t seen you for a while. How are you doing?” Good God, I sounded almost normal, as if the material of my bra hadn’t been called into question only a couple hours prior. As if a convicted felon hadn’t become infatuated with me and subsequently died on my lawn. As if…
“Tracy called off the wedding,” he said.
I snagged my attention back to Mr. Lincoln. He had been a client of mine for only a few months, but I’d heard a good deal about the impending nuptials during that time.
I waved in the direction of the couch and swiveled my chair toward him. Despite everything, I had looked pretty decent when I’d left for work that morning.
“Sit down. Tell me what happened.”
He didn’t sit down, but trolled across my tiny office, looking caged and confused. “I don’t know. I thought she loved me. She said she loved me.”
He turned toward me, eyes sad enough to make Harlequin look like a piker. “Was it all a lie? Do you think it was all a lie?”
“Take a deep breath, Mr. Lincoln,” I said, and took my own advice. “And let’s start at the beginning. What’s happened since our last session?” I hadn’t seen him in two weeks, which wasn’t quite the beginning, but seemed like a good place to start.
“I don’t know. I thought everything was going fine. We had just ordered the flowers. Yellow roses. She loves yellow roses.” He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture I had never noticed in him before. But why should he be nervous? The man had everything. Good job, good sense of humor, good—Wait a minute. Why had he originally sought my services? Something about sexual addictions. I settled back, settled in, put my own silly troubles behind me. So someone had accosted me on my stoop. So a couple guys had taken potshots at Pete and me. This was L.A. What did I expect?
“So she seemed fine while you were at the florist’s?” I said, leading the witness.
“Yes. Well…yes, I think so.”
“You think so? Is there some reason to believe differently? Did she seem distressed about something?”
“No. I mean…”
I waited, pointedly not remembering David Hawkins’s soundless laughter, or the suffocating feel of a large hand across my mouth, or Will Swanson’s dead eyes.
Bruce shook his head, and continued to pace. “It was ridiculous. Just idiotic.”
“What was ridiculous?”
“She’s not usually the jealous type.”
I nodded and waited, but he failed to continue.
“Did she have something to be jealous of?”
“No.” This with some emphasis. “I mean, maybe Jenna was flirting a little.”
“Jenna?”
“The girl in the flower shop.”
I felt the first niggling of understanding.
“Are you usually on a first-name basis with your florist, Mr. Lincoln?”
“Well, she…” He was pacing again. Pacing and wringing his hands. “She introduced herself.”
“I see.”
“Jenna Mann. ‘Like Jenna Elfman, but without the Elf,’ she said. She’s got a great sense of humor.”
A side-splitter. Like Roseanne Barr, but something about the look in Bruce’s eyes suggested she might be a few sizes smaller.
“So she was flirting with you?”
“Maybe. Maybe a little.”
“While your fiancée was present?”
“No. I…” He stopped suddenly, deer in the headlights.
I waited, knowing.
“I had another appointment with her.”
“An appointment without your fiancée?”
“Tracy asked me to go. She decided she wanted baby’s breath after all. Not just roses.”
“So you were kind enough to stop in.”
“Yes. Yeah, and I…” The fingers through the hair again. “Jesus, she’s a great girl.”
I waited. “Tracy or—”
“Tracy. Jesus, not—Jenna’s just a kid.”
“So you’re not interested in her?”
“No. I mean…no…absolutely not.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“Yes,” he said, but his face was red now and his hands clenched into fists.
/> “Were you in bed with her at the time?” I asked, and that’s when he started to cry.
I felt drained by the time he left. Mandy poked her head into my office after the front door announced his departure. “Men suck,” she said. “Why do they always want what they can’t have? I mean, they rove around like wild Gypsies, but they expect us to keep our legs together till they decide to come wandering back.”
Generally true. “You’re not really supposed to listen in on client’s sessions, Mandy,” I said. But why were men so territorial?
“Yeah,” she agreed, and entered the room. “Client confidentiality and all that. So he really slept with that chick, huh? Do you think his fiancée’ll take him back?”
I sighed, and gave up on pretending to update records. “Would you?”
“Naw, I’d kick him in the teeth.” She settled onto the couch, put her feet up on the coffee table, next to my magnet with geometric metal pieces stuck to it. She had on fishnet hose and four-inch cork-wedge sandals. “He’s got a grade-A ass, though.”
“Would that make the fact that he slept with someone else better or worse?”
The doorbell rang. Harlequin lifted his boxy head and issued a bone-jarring bark.
“Good point,” Mandy said, and yanking her feet off my table, tromped toward the door. “That’s probably why you’re the shrink, huh?”
“Maybe. Hey, Mandy?”
“Yeah?” She stopped short.
“Do you carry Mace with you?”
“No. I hate that stuff. Some guy sprayed me in the eyes once when I was at a club.” I didn’t think I wanted to know why. “I was barfing for an hour.”
“Still—”
“I got me a nail gun under the seat in my car, though.”
“A nail gun?”
“Yeah. I can hit a bull’s-eye from forty feet. And I took a kick-ass self-defense course.”
“Oh,” I said.
She turned away, but she hadn’t made it to the door before it burst open. She shrieked, threw up her hands, fingers straight, edges out, just as Rivera stepped inside.
He didn’t seem to notice her. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snarled.
I pulled my gaze from his, put an unsteady hand on Harlequin’s head, and turned toward Mandy with smooth aplomb. “That’ll be all for now, Amanda.”
She lowered her lethal weapons slowly. “You sure?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“You want I should get my nail gun?”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” I said, and she nodded once before skirting the lieutenant with obvious misgivings.
I understood her feelings.
He gave me a look. It wasn’t exactly ecstatic, but it wasn’t quite as deadly as I expected. “I thought you agreed to stay home today.”
“Did you?” I shuffled the files around on my desk.
“You have some kind of death wish?”
“I can take care of myself, Rivera.”
He stared at me for an elongated moment, then snorted. “Is that some kind of joke?”
“No, as a matter of fact, it’s not.”
“So that why you brought the dog? Self-defense?”
“Well, that and the fact that I didn’t think my brother was a good influence on an innocent—” I stopped, narrowed my eyes. “Did he tell you I was gone?”
He didn’t respond, except for a slight lowering of his brows.
I rose to my feet. “Did Peter John call you?”
He still didn’t answer, but watched as I unhooked Harlequin. The dog wriggled like a giant centipede, then galloped to Rivera, who caught him as he reared onto his hind legs. It’s hard to look dignified while fending off a thousand-pound carnivore. You can take my word for that.
“I didn’t expect him to turn out to be the intelligent McMullen,” he said, thumping Harley on the ribs before pushing him down and keeping a hand on his bony head.
“And I didn’t expect him to turn out to be a snitch. It was the only bad quality he didn’t have.”
“This isn’t a joke,” he said. “You could have been killed.”
“That’s why I brought the dog, and my Mace, and Mandy has a nail—” I stopped, thinking, heart suddenly lodged in my throat, knees weak. “Could have been?” He was glowering at me. I felt my face go pale. “Could have been?”
He said nothing.
“You know something,” I breathed.
He watched me in silence.
“What do you know?”
“You tell me.”
He knew about D. About the Glock. About…I calmed myself, watching his eyes. He looked smug, satisfied, almost relaxed.
“It’s not Julio,” I said, picturing him as a child, abandoned and wounded and afraid. “It’s not. I’m not sure how he knew I was in trouble, and I know he had the Glock and everything, but just because he respects your dad doesn’t mean—”
“Glock?”
I blinked, speechless.
“How’d you know it’s a Glock? And what the hell do you mean had?”
“I…” I froze, momentarily speechless. “You found Dehn,” I rasped.
He let me sit in breathless silence for a moment, then: “He was in San Francisco.”
“Was?”
He nodded. “Him and the Heads.”
“Holy shit!” I sat down suddenly. “Pete was right? They came here? To my house?”
“I did some legwork. Turns out they have a friend named Deets in Pomona. Friend owned a silver van. I put out an APB. The boys picked them up in East L.A.”
“You’re kidding.” I felt numb.
“Sometimes even the LAPD gets lucky.”
If I’d injured his pride, I hadn’t noticed it at the time. “Do you think it was them? The guys who attacked Pete? Who grabbed me?”
His eyes were deep and dark, his voice the same. “We found your address in Dehn’s pocket.”
I felt limp. “How long have they been in town?”
“Since the thirteenth, according to Deets.”
“So before Will…” I couldn’t finish the thought.
“Looks like it.”
I felt pale and breathless. Harlequin left Rivera to plop his head on my lap. Next to Laney, he’s pretty near the best friend I’ve ever had.
“Dehn’s denying everything,” Rivera said. “But the Heads are already looking kind of queasy.”
Me, too.
“There’s one more thing.”
I glanced up.
“Dehn’s left-handed.”
I remembered the terrifying moments on my stoop. “So it’s over.”
“Looks like it, but I want you to be careful…until everything’s cleared up.”
I stroked Harlequin’s giant head, looked at my Glock-filled purse, considered Mandy’s nail gun. “Okay.”
“You all right?”
“Yes. Sure. I’m fine.”
“You know what I think?”
I glanced up, dazed. “My brother’s an ass?”
He gave a single nod.
“Did he call you?”
“It’s the only thing he’s done right since he hit town.”
“An ass and a snitch,” I said.
He rested his hips against my desk and scowled. “Could be he cares about you in his own numb-nuts way.”
I snorted. “Could be you scared the crap out of him.”
“Yeah.” He grinned a little. “That, too.”
“What now?”
“With the Dick and friends?”
I nodded dimly.
“We can hold them for a couple days, but I think someone will be ready to squeal by morning. We’re keeping them separate. Gives them more motivation to talk if they think the others already have.”
I thought about that for an instant. “What about Will?”
“What do you mean?”
I meant, had David been right? Did Will’s murder have nothing to do with me? But I wasn’t ready to admit that I’d ventured alone
to Lancaster. “Do you think they shot him?” I asked. “And if so, why?”
“My money’s on Hank Cooley. We know he was in town less than a month ago. But I think he might be back in Texas by now.” He stared at me a second. “Still, it could have been Dehn.”
“Why? Why would he do that?”
“You must have noticed the resemblance.”
“What?”
“Will and Pete. Same coloring. Same height. Similar features. Maybe that’s why you were attracted to him.”
I was lost in my own thoughts for a second, but came to with a start. “What are you talking about?”
“Psychology 101. We’re attracted to the type of people we can relate to. There’s no shame in looking up to your big brother, McMullen.”
I jerked to my feet. “You watch your mouth,” I said, and he laughed.
“I have to get back to the station. Thumbscrews to crank,” he said, and turned away.
“Rivera.”
He glanced back at me, dark eyes sparking.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’d do the same for any psychotic shrink with a great ass,” he said, and left.
25
All’s well so long as you don’t get shot in the hind end with a twenty gauge.
—Chrissy’s cousin Kevin, who didn’t like to set his sights too high
I DIDN’T EXACTLY WHISTLE through the rest of the day. In fact, I felt jittery and numb simultaneously and ached for a cigarette. At four o’clock I calmed my nerves with a yogurt smoothie from Sunset Coffee, then called Pete to tell him the good news, but he had already spoken to Rivera. In the background, my television was chattering about winning a million dollars. In the foreground, I heard Pete pop open a can.
“Should you be drinking?” I asked.
“It’s a celebration, sis.”
“Uh-huh, but you’ll want to be heading back to Chicago straightaway.”
He laughed. “Can’t take the Vette anyway, remember? Your hard-ass boyfriend took the keys.”
I refrained from swearing.
“Looks like you’ll have to drive me back.”
“No freaking—” I began, but he was already laughing.
“Don’t have a shit fit. I’m just kidding. Mom’s going to come pick me up.”
I made some kind of gurgling noise in the back of my throat. It sounded a little like a phlegm riot.
“Guess she knows you’ve been trying to talk me out of marrying Holly or something.”
