by Robert Crais
“Maybe they’re not coming in, him with the concussion. He should be in bed, anyway.”
Betsy Harmon held herself even tighter.
“In bed doesn’t mean you turn off your phones. Someone has to clean up that mess.”
“We’ve left messages. There isn’t anything else we can do.”
“What if they don’t check their messages? That mess in there is going to rot. I can’t have my customers smelling it. People can see it from the street.”
Hydeck’s cell phone buzzed. She glanced at the incoming number, then turned away to take the call.
Pike said, “Is it them?”
“It’s Button. Let me see what he wants to do.”
As Hydeck walked away, Betsy Harmon turned to Pike.
“They can’t just leave it like this, can they? Aren’t they supposed to do something?”
Pike had nothing to say. He didn’t like it that Dru and her uncle weren’t answering their phones. The blood and heads and the message on the wall felt like more than an act of malicious vandalism. There was a darkness to what had been done that left him feeling as if a shadow had passed beneath him out on the open sea.
Hydeck glanced over as she spoke with Button, and Pike could see something was wrong in the way she held herself. Her agitation grew as their conversation went on, then she put away the phone and returned.
“Mr. Smith and Ms. Rayne won’t be coming in today. They’re leaving for Oregon.”
Betsy Harmon stepped back as if she had been kicked.
“Oregon? Who said they’re going to Oregon?”
“Mr. Smith. Apparently, he came by earlier and decided enough was enough. He phoned Detective Button about it this morning.”
“He’s going to leave it like this?”
“I don’t know.”
“But who’s going to clean up the mess?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s all I know. I’m sure he’ll take care of it before they go.”
Pike was surprised, and wondered why Dru hadn’t called him.
“Were they threatened?”
“Pike, look inside again and open your eyes. I’d say that’s a threat. The guy’s scared. He wants to get out of town until these idiots cool down, and he says he won’t cooperate with any further investigation. I don’t know any more than that, and frankly, if he doesn’t give a shit, neither do I.”
She glanced at McIntosh.
“We’re done here. Let’s roll.”
Pike said, “Is Button coming out?”
“Don’t hold your breath. He was pretty pissed off.”
Betsy Harmon’s face pulled tight with anxiety.
“But Wilson isn’t answering his phone. What if he leaves it like this?”
“If it’s determined to be a health hazard, Mr. Smith will be cited. If Mr. Smith doesn’t take care of it, I suggest you call the landlord or leasing agency.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to do?”
“That’s all we can do. I’m sorry.”
Pike watched Hydeck and McIntosh head back to their radio car, then took out his phone and tried Dru again. His call went to voice mail, but this time he did not leave a message.
Beside him, Betsy Harmon said, “I don’t think they would leave it like this. I just don’t believe it.”
Pike didn’t believe it, either, thinking that anyone who would dump goat heads and blood in the man’s shop might not stop with vandalism. He put away his cell.
“You know where they live?”
Betsy Harmon brightened for the first time that morning.
“Yes, I do. They’re only a few blocks away.”
She had once helped Wilson and Dru bring home perishable food when the shop’s refrigerator failed. She didn’t remember the street address, but gave Pike directions and described a house on the Venice Canals. She also gave him the cell phone number she had for Wilson Smith.
When Pike turned to his Jeep, Betsy Harmon called after him.
“I saw you.”
Pike glanced back, and saw her smiling.
“You and Dru. I saw you kissing yesterday. She looked very happy.”
Pike nodded once, such a small nod she might not have seen, then climbed into his Jeep. Dru would have called. He didn’t understand why Dru hadn’t called.
11
The Venice Canals were the dream of a man named Abbot Kinney, a tobacco millionaire from back East who developed the area as a beachside resort. The canals were originally dug to drain marshy land, but Kinney reasoned that one Venice was as good as another, so he decided to re-create Venice, Italy, complete with gondola rides. Sixteen miles of canals were dug, but over time they were filled or shortened. The remaining six were laid out in a perfect square with four canals running side by side and the fifth and sixth canals laid across their tops and bottoms, cutting the land between the canals into three identical, rectangular islands. What began as an amusement park became weekend getaway housing in 1905 that eventually devolved into run-down bungalows on tiny lots in the fifties and sixties occupied by hippies, beachside denizens, and artists. But proximity to the beach and rising property values eventually elevated the area, and the shabby bungalows were replaced by expensive homes.
Pike followed Betsy Harmon’s directions into the grid of narrow alleys that lined the canals. He crossed an even more narrow arched bridge, then turned onto an alley lined by houses. According to Betsy Harmon, Wilson and Dru lived in the third house from the end on the left side, a redwood home hidden behind an ivy-covered fence. Pike found the house easily, and parked.
The lots along the canals were small, so the houses all had two or three stories and were built shoulder-to-shoulder out to the street, with their front yards facing the canals and their garages flush on the alleys. A carport was carved into Wilson’s house next to a wood gate, but the house and its entrance were hidden by the fence. The carport was empty. Pike was surprised by the house. This was an expensive address.
Pike went to the gate, but found it locked. He pressed a buzzer. A chime sounded inside the house, but no one answered. As he pushed the buzzer again, he noticed a thin young man with straggly black hair watching him from a second-story window at the house next door. The watcher turned away when Pike saw him.
Pike still got no answer, so he went into the carport and banged on the wall. If Wilson and Dru were going to leave, one of them might be inside packing while the other was shopping for last-minute necessities. Hence the missing car.
Pike pounded hard on the wall three times, got no response, and was pounding again when a woman came out of the house next door and called out to him.
“Excuse me!”
She was in her mid-forties with leathery skin, tight jeans, and a tighter T-shirt that highlighted her breasts. She had large breasts, and wanted them seen.
“Are you trying to knock down that house? I can hear you all the way over here.”
“Is this Wilson Smith’s house?”
“Hardly. They’re house-sitting. The owner is in London. He goes there a lot.”
She rubbed her thumb and fingers together.
“Made a load in television.”
This explained how they could live at such an expensive address. House-sitting.
“But Wilson and Dru live here now?”
“That’s right. Is something the matter?”
“There’s been some damage to his place of business. I need to speak with him about it.”
The woman came out into the alley far enough to peer into the empty carport.
“Well, their car isn’t here, so I don’t know what to tell you. I’ll let them know if I see them.”
The thin man came to the door. Close up, he looked like a teenager. He was eating a banana, and squinted as if the sun was overly bright. Pike read them for mother and son.
“S’up?”
“He’s looking for Wilson.”
He headed back into the house.
“I’m gonna lay out.”<
br />
“How about looking for a job instead?”
She made a big show of acting disgusted as her son slouched away.
“Three years at Berkeley, and all he does is lay out. My fault, I guess. No man around to set an example.”
Her eyes lingered on Pike a beat too long, then she sighed as if realizing she’d just had another bad idea.
“It’s a single-mom thing.”
She put out her hand.
“I’m Lily Palmer. Who are you?”
“Pike.”
“Well, Pike, you want me to give them a message when I see them?”
“Tell them to call. They have the number.”
Pike returned to his Jeep, but didn’t start the engine. Dru and Wilson might very well be leaving, but Pike felt they would not have had time to leave yet. They would have to make arrangements, pack, and do all the things people do to prepare for a trip. Pike told himself they were doing those things now, which is why they weren’t home, so he decided to wait.
A few minutes later, Pike called Dru again, then the number Betsy Harmon gave him for Wilson. Both calls went immediately to voice mail as they had every time before, which implied their phones were turned off or being used. Pike didn’t like it. The odds both of them were talking on their phones at the same time were slim, and no one turned off their phones when they were getting ready for a trip.
Pike climbed out of the Jeep and returned to the gate. He checked to make sure Lily’s son wasn’t watching, then hoisted himself over the gate into a tiny courtyard. The front door was locked, and showed no sign of forced entry.
Pike moved along the side of the house, looking into each window he passed, and checking for signs of tampering. The first room appeared to be a guest bedroom, and the next was the kitchen. The bedroom appeared undisturbed, but Pike’s view was limited. He saw dirty dishes, three empty beer bottles, and a cutting board on the kitchen counter. Pike told himself the dishes indicated Wilson and Dru planned to return home, but the goat heads and flies hung over him like battlefield smoke.
After checking the last window on the far side of the house, he returned to the backyard. It was small, with a low wood fence bordering the sidewalk that ran along the canal. A latched gate opened to the sidewalk, and a blue fiberglass kayak hung on a small wooden dock across from the gate. Pike studied the houses lining the bank. Even with all the walls and gates, entering the properties would be easy from the water.
Pike checked his watch. Forty-five minutes had passed since he decided to wait, but now the passing time didn’t feel like waiting. It felt more like he was allowing something precious to slip away.
Pike was deciding what to do next when he saw Lily Palmer’s son. The kid had returned to his second-floor window, which gave him a view into Wilson’s backyard. This time the kid didn’t duck. He made a smirking grin before turning away, and Pike wondered how much time he spent in the window.
Pike made his way back along the side of the house, let himself out, and knocked on Lily’s door. Her eyes brightened when she saw him, and she gave him a pleasant smile.
“Oh. Hi. I thought you left.”
“No. I’ve been looking around next door. I didn’t tell you the whole truth. Wilson has been having trouble with some bad people. I’m concerned those people might have followed them home. Have you seen or heard anything suspicious?”
Her pleasant smile turned into a concerned frown.
“No, I don’t think so. Like what?”
“Loud voices. Cars that didn’t fit.”
She frowned even harder, then shouted into the house.
“Jared! Jared, come here!”
Jared appeared a few seconds later, shirtless and glistening with sunscreen. His thin chest looked like a birdcage.
“I was just going out.”
“The gentleman wants to know if you saw or heard anything suspicious over there.”
“Next door?”
“Yes, next door. Jesus, what’s wrong with you?”
Jared rubbed his birdcage ribs and nodded toward Pike.
“He was in their backyard just now. That’s pretty suspicious.”
“I know he was in their yard. He told me. Would you please answer the man?”
Jared raked the hair from his face, and made the same sneer he’d made in the window.
“He was peeping in their windows. Probably trying to see Dru’s tits.”
Pike took a step closer, and Jared quickly crossed his arms.
“Dude. It was a joke.”
His mother said, “Would you please act like a man? Wilson and Dru are having some kind of trouble. Try to help.”
“I didn’t see anything suspicious or otherwise. I’m sorry. There’s nothing to see.”
Pike glanced toward Jared’s window.
“Good view from your window. You looking at nothing?”
Jared flushed.
“What should I do, stare at the walls? Bro, it’s another day on the Venice Canals—sunshine and water.”
“When was the last time you saw them?”
“Wilson or Dru?”
“Either.”
“Last night, I guess. That would be Dru. She pulled in when I was coming back from my walk. Gave her a wave. You know. Said whassup. She said whassup back.”
Pike edged closer, and Jared held himself tighter.
“What time?”
“Around six, I guess. Something like that.”
Pike decided this fit. She drove directly home after leaving him at the takeout shop.
“What about this morning?”
“Didn’t see’m this morning, either one.”
Jared waved toward the carport.
“Saw the car, though. Went out to score some brown moo, saw the car.”
“When?”
“Oh, dude, early.”
His mother helped with the answer.
“The Today show was beginning its second hour when he left, so that was just after eight. He got back during the second half-hour, so that was about eight forty-five.”
Pike tried to fine-tune the window.
“Was the car there when you got back?”
“Yep. For sure.”
“See it leave?”
“Nope. Saw it when I got back with the moo, but I couldn’t say when it left.”
“How many cars do they have?”
“Just the one.”
Lily nodded.
“They have one car.”
“The silver Tercel.”
“Yeah.”
The silver Tercel was something Jared saw every day. Something a person sees every day becomes invisible, but something out of the ordinary stands out. He had asked these same questions or questions like them a thousand times when he was a cop.
“Forget the Tercel. When you were coming back with the moo, did you see anyone you didn’t recognize? Maybe a car that wasn’t familiar?”
Jared shook his head.
“Nobody like you mean. A couple of ladies with dogs walked by. Some gardeners were working next door.”
Pike hesitated.
“At Wilson’s?”
“Yeah. A couple of Latin dudes.”
Almost every house along the canals would employ professional gardeners, and most would be Latin.
“You know they were gardeners because you’ve seen them before, or do you assume they were gardeners because they were Latin?”
Jared turned dark red, as if he had been accused of racial profiling.
“Dude! Hey, here are these dudes, they have the work clothes, not exactly dressed for success, I see’m going in through the gate, who else would they be?”
Lily Palmer said, “Did they have blowers, honey? A mower?”
“It’s not like I studied them. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Pike touched the side of his neck.
“Ink?”
Jared pressed his lips together as he tracked through his memory, then he suddenly brightened.
�
��Yeah, I think, but the one dude, I remember this, he had a cast on his arm.”
Pike felt very still, and heard only the soft whisper of his breath and the heavy, slow-motion thump of his heart.
“Which arm?”
Jared touched his right forearm.
“This one. He had one of those wrist casts, goes from the thumb up to about right here.”
Mendoza was wearing exactly that cast when he was released from the Airport Courthouse.
“And the car was still there when you saw them?”
“Yeah. It was there.”
“And later it was gone.”
“Yeah. Gone.”
Pike turned toward Smith’s house. His slow-beating heart grew louder until each beat boomed like thunder on the horizon. He had seen the outside of the house, but very little of the inside. A nightmare worse than goat heads could be waiting inside.
Lily Palmer touched his arm.
“Are they the people you were talking about?”
Pike nodded, still staring at the house.
“Should we call the police?”
Pike shook his head.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Then he gave Lily something to help ease her concerns.
“When you see Wilson or Dru, ask them to call me. They have the number.”
“Of course. As soon as I see them.”
Pike returned to his Jeep and backed out the narrow street. He turned the corner, then immediately pulled over and parked.
He trotted back fast, checked again to see if anyone was looking, then hoisted himself over a fence on the side of Wilson’s house away from the Palmers. Having seen the property once, he knew where he wanted to go and carried the things he needed to enter.
On this side of the house, Pike had found a window used for ventilation for a laundry room. He pulled on a pair of vinyl gloves, then set to work. It had not been tampered with before, but now he levered it open with a small pry bar and shimmied through the opening.
Once inside, Pike pulled a pair of paper booties over his running shoes, then quickly moved through the house. His sole mission was to search for bodies. He would take the time for nothing else because nothing else was as important.
Pike slipped through the laundry room into a hall, then swept through the kitchen, a large family room, a small bedroom with an adjoining bath. He did not touch or examine anything, though he quickly scanned each floor for blood. He found no obvious drops or splatters, no signs of a violent struggle, and no bodies.
