“Which we already knew.”
I looked out the window, watching scenery fly by that I’d watched going in the opposite direction just a few hours earlier. “So both Ann and June Tanaka would have had access to the jug and water bottles, but not on the last day of the tournament.”
“The mother is definitely on my list,” Greg said dryly. “I’d bet if both Ann and Peter are out of the way, she’d get all their money. She could have hired someone to put the poison in the jug.”
I shivered. “I know mothers have been known to kill their kids before, but she seemed obsessed with Peter. It’s hard to believe she’d remove him from her life permanently, considering she was having trouble cutting the apron strings. Besides, Dev said Martinez looked into both of them.”
“If they’re clean, then my money is on someone else Tanaka might have been blackmailing, and Miranda got in the middle of it somehow.”
“That’s a good possibility, honey, but he could have been blackmailing most anyone. Maybe we can ask some of the players tomorrow.”
Greg nodded his agreement, then said, “I found out something else from Coach Rios.”
Again I looked at my husband with interest.
“Seems he and many of the players weren’t happy with Tanaka’s unsportsmanlike behavior during the tournament. Rios told me he was going to call a team meeting to vote him off the Vipers.”
“Maybe one of his teammates took things into their own hands.”
“Could be, but when I asked how Tanaka got along with the other Vipers, Rios said in general Tanaka was well liked and made an effort to get along, almost like he was trying hard to make it work.”
I snorted. “Tanaka probably realized if he failed on the Vipers, he’d have a lot of trouble playing for any team again.”
“He did love the sport,” Greg commented. “Not being able to play would have really been a big blow to him. He would have to move someplace that had a team where he wasn’t well known.”
Still holding my cell phone, I scrolled through the photos taken last weekend. Tears welled in my eyes when I reached one in particular.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
I sniffed back the tears. “I was just looking through photos from last weekend.” I showed him the one that had stopped me cold. It was of Miranda and Rocky together, smiling for the camera. “It’s so difficult to believe that they are both gone in such a short time.”
Greg reached over and patted my knee softly. “I know, sweetheart.”
Lunch was great, if somber. We both wolfed down burgers and sweet potato fries along with cold beer. After, we sat sipping espresso while holding hands and watching the ocean across the street. It was chilly outside, but we’d opted for dining on their patio near one of their outdoor heaters so we could do just this and so we wouldn’t have to leave Wainwright in the van. The loyal dog was currently sleeping under our table.
Our peace and quiet was short-lived when Greg’s phone rang. “I’ll bet that’s the shop,” I said, with the realization that our slice of quiet was coming to an end.
“It’s not the shop’s number,” he said, looking at the display. “It’s Lance.” He answered and soon after said, “See you soon.”
When the call ended, Greg paid the check. “Lance wants to talk. He’s coming to the shop around closing time,” he told me. “Do you want to go home or sit in on the meeting? I’m sure he won’t mind, but I know you’re exhausted.”
Exhausted, still not showered, and wearing my morning walking getup, I felt grimy and disgusting but said, “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”
Greg winked at me. “I knew you’d say that.”
Ocean Breeze Graphics closed at four on Saturdays. I holed up in Greg’s office until then, playing with my scribbled notes and trying to fit together the pieces while Greg finished his workday.
Another possibility that came to my mind was that Miranda was killed by whoever handled her call-girl bookings. Dev had told us that the evidence had suggested she worked alone, but if that was true, how did she make contact with potential clients? Prior clients could be booked as repeat business, but what about the marketing end of things for new clients? I wrote contacts? under Miranda’s name on the sheet I was scribbling on. She might have been killed by her competition or by the competition’s handlers. But if so, who killed Peter Tanaka, and were the two deaths connected? Maybe someone was watching Miranda, looking for a chance to find her alone and vulnerable. After fleeing the game, she might have been distracted long enough for someone to stalk and kill her.
Around four o’clock Greg wheeled into his office with Lance Henderson. He looked even more haggard than he had when we’d last seen him a few days before. I got up and went to him, giving him a warm hug. “I’m so sorry,” I said in a soft voice.
He hugged me back. “Thanks, Odelia. And thanks for letting me come by. I wanted to talk to you guys and needed to get out of the house for a bit.”
“Take a seat, Lance,” I told him, indicating one of the chairs Greg kept for visitors. I took the other. “How are your parents doing?”
“As well as can be expected,” Lance said, running a hand over the stubble on his face. He looked like he hadn’t shaved or showered in a week. “My mom had to be sedated after Rocky died. My dad just stares into space. You know, after Rocky survived his accident, the last thing they expected was for him to die like this.”
There was a moment of silence, then Greg asked, “Can I get you something, Lance? I have some beer, soft drinks, and water.”
“No, thanks,” Lance said. He fidgeted, then asked, “Have you heard that they’ve ruled Miranda’s death a suicide too?”
“Yes,” I told him, “but we’re still not sure that’s true.” I didn’t want to tell him about what Carlos had seen, at least not yet. I exchanged looks with Greg, noticing he seemed to be on the same page. “We both have a gut feeling something’s missing.”
“Yeah, me too,” Lance said, looking down at his shoes. “Like maybe why she was working as a hooker?” He looked up. “That just about killed my folks when they found out. All this has been way beyond their understanding.”
“What about your understanding?” Greg asked. “I’m sure the cops told you they found a stash of money and travel information in Miranda’s car, along with suitcases of expensive, flashy clothing.”
“I knew Rocky and Miranda were having a rough time of it and had been for a while,” he told us. “Rocky’s business was failing. He was moving heaven and earth to keep it afloat.”
“We heard that,” Greg said. “He had asked to speak with me after the tournament, but we never got the chance. Do you think it was about that?”
“Yeah, it was,” Lance said. “I had suggested that he pick your brain for advice since you’ve been so successful with Ocean Breeze.”
I had a delicate question to ask and swallowed before voicing it. “Do you think Rocky knew anything about Miranda’s side business? Maybe she was doing it to get them over their financial problems.”
“No way,” answered Lance. “I know he’d asked her to try to pick up more hours at the dental office or to find another job with more hours, but she never did.” He looked at each of us. “Did you know that they separated several months back?”
“No,” I answered for the both of us.
“It didn’t last long, but it was longer than the other times,” Lance told us. “They’d actually split up several times before, just for a few weeks at a time, but kept getting back together. They kept it pretty quiet; even my folks didn’t know. I kept telling Rocky that Miranda was no good for him, but he loved her and kept taking her back.”
“What was the problem?” Greg asked.
“Miranda was never satisfied,” Lance said. “She was always wanting bigger and better. They got underwater in their house because she wanted a fancier place than they could afford. They were about to lose it when this happened. They were going to move in with me until they got b
ack on their feet. I’ll bet Miranda was going to leave before that ever happened. It would be like her to cut and run when Rocky needed her most. Even my mother told him before he married her that she thought Miranda was immature.” Lance ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, from what the cops told me, the money she had stashed in her car would have been enough to keep the wolves from their door. She must have been working on her back a long time and saving almost every penny. But did she give any of that to help my brother? Not a damn cent that I knew of.”
It occurred to me that maybe losing Miranda wasn’t Rocky’s only reason for wanting to check out. His business and his marriage were failing. He was losing his home, and Peter Tanaka had probably landed the final blow by telling him his wife was a call girl. I shut my eyes, thinking of all the pain and stress Rocky was shouldering in silence.
“Did you know that Peter Tanaka was blackmailing Miranda?” Greg asked.
He nodded. “The police told me they think that was the case. Their theory is that Miranda had arranged to meet Tanaka at his van between games for a payoff, and she took the opportunity to slip him the poison. But when Tanaka used her secret to get the upper hand in the game, she fled, then killed herself.”
That made no sense to me, even if I didn’t know about what Carlos had seen. “But why kill herself?” I asked. “I would have just driven home as fast as I could, grabbed my own car with the cash and my stuff, which was already packed, and hit the road.”
“Guilty conscience, maybe?” suggested Lance.
I knew better. If Miranda felt guilty it was because her husband might have found out her secret. I still wasn’t buying that she killed Peter Tanaka.
“And what if Miranda didn’t commit suicide or kill Tanaka?” asked Greg.
Lance gave a shrug that was slow and heavy. “So what? It won’t bring my brother back, will it? As far as I’m concerned, both Miranda and I have Rocky’s blood on our hands. I let him know I had a gun in the house, and she gave him a reason to pull the trigger.”
“This was not your fault, Lance,” Greg told him with conviction. “Not your fault at all.”
Lance gave a half shrug that let us know he didn’t believe it. “What I really wanted to talk to you about,” Lance said, “was the funeral—or, rather, funerals. We’re contacting as many people as we can, but it’s tough. Could you guys contact Rocky’s team and any other athletes you think would want to know and tell them? The service for both Miranda and Rocky will be held at the Congregational Church in Corona del Mar at ten o’clock on Wednesday morning.” He got to his feet like an old man. “I’ll text you the exact address and details tonight.”
Greg rolled over to him, his hand extended. “Don’t worry, Lance. Odelia and I are going to see the team tomorrow. We’ll make sure everyone knows about the service, including those not there tomorrow.”
Lance took his offered hand and shook it, covering Greg’s hand with both of his. “Thanks. My family and I really appreciate it.”
Before he left, I gave him another hug and told him to call if he needed anything.
After Lance left the shop, Greg locked the door behind him and returned to his office. I had pulled up my chair closer to Greg’s desk and was poring over my notes again with the fervor of a mad scientist.
“What are we missing?” I said, not looking up from the scraps holding my scribbles.
“Sweetheart,” Greg said with tenderness, “let it go. Like Lance said, nothing is going to bring Rocky back.”
“But we know that Miranda was murdered.” I looked up at my husband with surprise. “Don’t you want to find out who did that and who killed Peter Tanaka?”
“Not tonight. I’m too exhausted and sad to even think about it anymore.”
I studied Greg, feeling my brows bunch over my eyes like small, tight fists. “Did what we’re finding out about Miranda dampen your interest in finding her killer?”
He rolled over to me and looked me in the eye. His were sad yet steely with anger. “To be honest, it did. She was deceiving Rocky and hoarding cash while he was trying to hold their life together. Right now I don’t care if we do find her killer. Lance was wrong about him being partially to blame because he had a gun in the house, but he was right about Miranda giving Rocky a reason to pull the trigger.” He rolled behind his desk and started locking his desk and shutting down his computer for the night. “Let’s go home and have another peaceful evening. It’s going to be hard seeing all the players tomorrow.”
I gathered up my notes. “Sounds good, honey. I think I’m going to have a good long soak in my tub tonight.”
“And I’m going to drown myself in a few beers and the rest of that key lime pie.”
“The rest?” I asked. “There’s more than three quarters of it left.”
“Don’t worry,” he said to me with a half smile. “I’ll save you a sliver.”
Twenty-four
After a late breakfast, the next morning Greg and I were back on the 5 Freeway heading south with Wainwright in the back of the van. We were on our way to Oceanside and the Lunatics’ quad rugby practice. Greg didn’t seem any more inclined toward finding Miranda’s killer this morning than he’d been last night. I, on the other hand, was biting at the bit to find out who Carlos had seen running from the van. I understood Greg’s feelings. I wasn’t feeling so warm and fuzzy toward Miranda myself these days, but it didn’t change the fact that I wanted—needed—to get to the bottom of things. To not do so felt like unfinished business, and I’m one of those people who cannot leave something half-assed. Unless Greg changed his mind, I might just have to see this to the end on my own. Maybe I was a fixer like Elaine said.
When we arrived at the practice place, most of the Lunatics were there warming up, circling in their rugby wheelchairs, loosening up their muscles, and getting their minds ready to play. I’d been to many of their practices over the years, and usually they were boisterous and high spirited. Not today. This morning a shadowy, heavy feeling hung over the place like a shroud. It was a shroud—the shroud of their fallen friend and captain.
Practices were held in the gymnasium of a small community center. When we arrived, I took a seat on the set of retractable bleachers next to Cory Seidman while Greg went to speak to Coach Warren. Wainwright was at his heels. Not many friends and family members ever showed up for the practice sessions, but I saw a couple of women sitting together and chatting. I recognized one as Samantha Franco. The coach stopped the warm-up and gathered the team around, then he turned it over to Greg.
“I understand you all know that Rocky Henderson died yesterday,” Greg began, his voice straining to stay even. “His brother, Lance, wanted me to let everyone know when and where the joint service for Rocky and Miranda will be held. It’s this Wednesday at ten at the Congregational Church in Corona del Mar. My wife has the details about it, including the location of the graveside service and the reception after.” That was my cue to hold up the half-sheet flyers we had made up early this morning. I waved them in the air. Cory immediately held out a hand for one. Samantha left her spot on the bleachers and came down to me to get two, then returned to sit with the other woman.
“Who’s that?” I asked Cory.
He glanced up the few rows behind us. “I don’t know her name, but I think she came with Kevin. Probably his latest conquest.”
In spite of the gravity of the day, I smiled. Kevin Spelling had the reputation of being a ladies’ man—something he and Peter Tanaka had in common—but Kevin, one of the Olympian players, was known for being a full-blown charmer, not a batterer. And to my knowledge, Kevin kept his hands off of other players’ ladies.
“He had a different woman with him at the tournament,” Cory whispered to me with a grin.
“Really? I didn’t notice him with anyone.”
Cory nodded. “I don’t think she stayed long. I saw them briefly together in the parking lot on one of my smoke breaks. I didn’t see her with him before that, though. It looked like t
hey were having a spat, then she left and didn’t come back into the gym.” Cory shook his head and grinned. “I never got that much action when I was single.”
“Cory, did you notice if Peter Tanaka ever brought anyone to the games or scrimmages?”
He gave it some thought, pursing his lips and rolling his eyes upward as if looking for the answer in the top of his head. “Nope, not that I can recall. He always came alone.”
“So you’ve never met his sister? Her name is Ann.”
“No. I didn’t even know he had a sister.”
I nodded. “A twin, no less.”
“Wonder if she’s a jerk too?”
Coach Warren called for a full minute of silence in honor of Rocky Henderson. The few of us on the bleachers stood up, and everyone bowed their heads in respect and some in prayer. When the minute was up, Coach gave the team a pep talk and announced that Kevin Spelling would be the new team captain. The other players nodded in agreement and welcomed Kevin as their new leader. As his first act as captain, he announced that the rest of the season would be dedicated to Rocky and that they should honor him by playing their best and holding back nothing.
Cory and I watched the practice together. “Mona has greatly improved over last year,” I said to him.
“Yes, she has,” Cory answered with pride. “She’s been working with a personal trainer to build her upper body strength and utilize her arms and hands more. The same trainer worked with me after I had knee surgery last year. He’s amazing.” Suddenly, Cory smacked his forehead with the palm of his right hand. “Damn it. I told her trainer I’d take some video of Mona’s practice so he can see how she’s doing, but I left the video cam at home on the table.” He pulled out his phone, then swore again, this time under his breath. “And this thing isn’t charged enough.”
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’ll take some video. My phone’s fully charged.”
“Can you email it to me later?”
“Sure. Happy to do it.”
I pulled out my cell phone and discovered that Steele had sent me a text. don’t forget, it said, tomorrow: bright eyed, bushy tailed, and early.
Hell on Wheels Page 21
