by Kate Gable
I don't know exactly how to ask her this question.
I feel nervous and uneasy. I don't want to tell Mom anything that Violet doesn't want her to know, but at the same time, I need to know what she knows.
"Have you known Violet to ever show any interest in girls?" I ask.
"What do you mean by that? What do you mean by interest?"
"You know what I mean. Like romantically?"
Mom turns in her seat, stares at me, and asks, "Do you think that Violet was dating a girl?"
"I'm not saying that exactly and at her age I don't know what that even means. Do you think that maybe she had feelings for a girl? Did you ever talk to her about it?"
"No, of course not, but I also never talked to her about dating guys. I had no idea that she was at that stage in her life," Mom says, carefully choosing her words.
I think that my own teenage years traumatized her. I was a bit of a wild child.
I went out a lot. I did what I wanted.
I hooked up with guys that I wanted. I figured that if guys got to do that, I should, too.
Violet was always a little bit more timid and quiet so I guess it's only natural that it didn't even occur to Mom that she would be dating.
"I'm not sure where you're getting at with all of this. What does it matter?" Mom asks, holding herself by grasping onto her shoulders.
I sympathize.
The thing about investigating a missing person case is that you have to get into that person's background. You have to dig up old wounds.
You have to ask questions that the families may not always want answers to and in this case I can tell that my mom is uncomfortable.
I look at the steering wheel and all of the dust that has collected between the windshield and the dashboard. I know that I have to tell her the truth.
"I will tell you something, but only if you promise to keep it between us, because Natalie's parents can't know. The person who told me this told me this in confidence."
Mom nods.
"There's a possibility that she and Natalie were a couple. Well, maybe not a couple, but romantically involved."
"Who said this?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Well, how do you know if that's a reliable source and not just someone spreading lies?"
I take a deep breath and finally admit, "I saw a video, Mom. They made a video of themselves kissing."
"They did?"
"Yeah."
"It wasn't just pretend?"
"No, it wasn't. It was a real recording."
"Why would they do that?"
"They're young and stupid and like everyone else, they like to record themselves doing everything."
"So, she and Natalie were kissing?"
I nod.
“And why does that matter?" Mom asks.
"It might mean that she and Natalie ran away. Natalie's parents were very strict. They would have not taken this seriously. They would not have taken this lightly. They couldn't handle something like that. I mean, it means ... I have no idea what it means. That's why I'm asking you about it."
Mom swallows hard, looks at me again, and admits, "She never mentioned it to me, but I wish she had."
There's a faraway glance in her eyes. She looks distant and tired, but not angry, not in the least.
I had no idea how my mom would react to this news. Unlike Natalie's mother, she didn't have firm, strict opinions that she had vocalized.
At the same time, there are so many things that she disapproves of, especially things that I used to do, that I was pretty sure she would disapprove of this.
"Why are you acting like this?" Mom asks. "Why are you acting like this is some difficult thing for you to ask me about?"
“Well, frankly, I have no idea where you stand on people being gay."
“Please, don't insult me. Where I stand on that? People are gay. There's nowhere to stand."
"I just remember how you were when I was a kid,” I start to say but she interrupts me.
"Things were very different when you were growing up, Kaitlyn. I can't believe that you would even compare the two,” Mom says. “If Violet has feelings for Natalie and they want to explore those feelings, that's one thing. What you were doing was rebelling. You were hooking up with guys and you were trying to find something that you could not find by acting like that. You were trying to get approval. You were trying to fight back against me. That's what I wanted you to stop doing. It's not about being sexually active or exploring your feelings for other people. It's about not trying to get back at your parents by doing something with your body. That's what I was upset with.”
I’m tempted to bring up the money she borrowed from me to pay the mortgage, but I decide to keep my mouth shut.
16
When I get back to LA, my thoughts keep going back to what my mom said about Violet and me. I know that Violet is young and I don't want to think of her as gone forever, but it makes me sad to know that the person that she is will be forever altered by whatever it is that happened to her.
Unless she did run away with Natalie.
My mom and I never talked about the teenager that I used to be. She would mention it only in passing, but that was about it.
Talking to her about Violet and that kiss, I realized that my mom wasn't at all the person that I thought that she was. There's still so much that I don't know about her, but I wonder if it's like that for everyone.
Your parents are kind of a mystery to you, even if you're close. You live in the same house, but because of all the time that separates you, you go through these phases in your relationship.
In the beginning, they're gods and goddesses, maybe a tyrant if you get a bad one, but mostly, they are rulers of your universe.
As years pass, you stand up to that.
You start to find your voice.
You start to challenge them and you separate.
You create your own identity, in opposition to theirs or maybe along with it, if you get along.
Are there people that really even understand their parents?
Are there parents that really understand their children?
I don't know. I only know about the parents that I had and they have always been somewhat of an enigma.
When I get back to the precinct, I get a text message that they've tracked down the kid who withdrew the money from the ATM.
I down a cup of coffee, use the restroom, and head straight to the interrogation room. The kid's name is Kenny Tuffin.
He's barely sixteen and has long, scraggly hair, loose-fitting clothing, and a skateboard that's practically attached to his arm.
I’m waiting for him outside the interrogation room. His mother had given us permission to interview him without her presence and that kind of confidence can be misleading.
Kenny's hair falls into his eyes, and his shoulders are sloped down, making him look tired and completely turned inward.
"Thanks for coming in," I say, after I introduce myself and open the folder demonstratively in front of him.
I already know as much as I can about the Janine Sato case.
My main concern is how does Kenny know Nick, the guy in whose apartment Janine's body was found?
Nick is still nowhere to be found and Peter Millian, his father, is no longer being as talkative and cooperative as he was originally.
I assume that it's dawning on him that there may be a chance that his son, a US Marine, might have had something to do with this.
"Can I offer you something to drink or eat?" I ask.
Kenny shakes his head no.
"Okay, well, let's get right to it. What can you tell me about that money that you withdrew out of the ATM?" I show him the photos from the security camera and it looks like it's physically painful for him to look at them.
"That's you, right?" I ask, even though we have already positively ID’d him as the person on the tape.
"I don't know what this has anything to do with," Kenny says. "I didn
't steal that money."
"This isn't about that."
"What do you mean? You're a detective, right?" He leans over and puts his elbows on the table with his face so close to mine I see how badly it has been scarred up by acne.
"So, you didn't get the money from the ATM?"
"No, I did," he admits it, "but I didn't keep it."
"Oh, yeah? What happened to it?"
"Listen, I knew that this was a bad idea and I shouldn't have done it, but I can't really snitch on the guy."
"So, it's a guy," I say, keeping his gaze with my eyes for as long as he can handle it.
He looks away first.
Kenny looks scared and lost, so I wonder if it's better to put some pressure on him or act more like a friend. It's hard to know which decision is best, but I decide to go the softer route at first.
I can always go harder later.
"Kenny, you need to tell me what happened. Someone has been murdered."
"What?" His mouth drops open and his eyes get big like two quarters. "I had nothing to do with that. You have to believe me."
"I do, but I need your help. I need you to tell me what happened. Why did you get that money?"
"There's this guy, Danny Usoro. He works for my dad's landscaping company. He asked me to withdraw the money. He said that he couldn't do it himself."
"Why?" I ask.
"I don't know. I asked him, but none of the reasons made any sense."
"So you did it for him?"
"Yeah. He paid me with pizza."
"You withdrew $400 at a time?"
"Yep, at three different ATMs."
"How much pizza did you get in return?"
"Four boxes," he says.
I ask him more about the details of the transaction, knowing that somewhere in the other room, my fellow investigators are already trying to find out who Danny Usoro is and get in contact with him.
"You said that he works for your dad's landscaping company? What does he do exactly?"
"Um, just whatever. He kind of does it on the side."
"On the side from what?"
"He plays in a band, so they have gigs in West Hollywood and up in the Valley. He does landscaping in his spare time."
"Okay, okay. Thank you for your help."
"You can't tell him that I told you," Kenny says, giving me the most innocent look that I've seen in a while. "He'll be really mad at me."
"You did nothing wrong, okay? Why don't you stay here and I'll get your statement on record? I'll be right back."
I walk out of the room, surprised by how quickly that conversation happened.
"Did he say that the guy who paid him in pizza to get the money out of the ATM is named Danny Usoro?" Captain asks.
I nod.
"I thought that name sounded familiar. I was looking through the interviews of the names of the neighbors."
I nod.
It's standard procedure to canvas the neighborhood and ask everyone, especially everyone in the building, what they might have heard or seen and where they were.
"Well, there's a Daniel Usoro listed as one of Nick's neighbors. You think that's a coincidence?"
I raise an eyebrow.
After getting Kenny Tuffin's statement into written form and having him sign it, I head over to Danny Usoro's apartment.
17
When I arrive at his apartment building, it's mid-morning and the black and yellow police tape is still wrapped around Nick's door.
From the looks of it, no one has taken it off or entered through the front door. Danny Usoro lives two apartments down. I knock softly at first on the peeling paint, but it's not until I slam the knocker that I finally hear some movement inside.
He staggers to the door, his feet are heavy on the parquet floor and he opens the door, leaving just a crack.
His hair, thick and slightly curly, stands up on end. His face has creases on it from the pillow and his eyes are bloodshot.
I introduce myself and show him my badge. He opens the door a little bit further but doesn't invite me inside.
He's wearing a loose pair of flannel pants with a drawstring and no shirt. He has a muscular, broad shouldered body, pale, and covered in tattoos. There's a big black spider on his left pectoral muscle and something that looks like medieval armor plate around his left shoulder.
"I have a few questions about what happened in Nick's apartment. Would you mind if I came in?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.
I want to appear as approachable as possible and it seems to work.
The apartment is a standard one bedroom with a living room that starts right at the front door. The walls inside have recently been painted and there are movie posters all over them: Scarface, Pulp Fiction, The Boondock Saints, and then a surprise one, Cider House Rules.
The last one is a poignant historical drama based on a book by John Irving about an orphan who apprentices for a doctor specializing in abortions. He has mixed feelings about it and falls in love with a woman who gets one.
"Cider House Rules?" I ask, pointing to the poster. "That seems like an unusual choice."
"Yes. You'd know that given the fact that we've met only a few minutes before?" Danny points out, crossing his arms.
"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."
"Yeah, right," he says and walks over to the refrigerator, pouring himself a glass of water without offering me anything. "That was my mom's favorite movie, okay? Is that what you came here to talk to me about? What movies I like to watch?"
"No, not at all."
Danny walks over to the couch, sits down, and nudges for me to do the same.
Blue light streams through the windows. The blinds are up and there are no curtains to filter it.
I feel like we got off on a bad foot, but I try to suck it up and just move forward.
"Can you tell me anything that you know about Nick?" I ask.
"I already told all of this to this other cop in a uniform who was here."
"Yes, but it's important we go over the story a few times, just in case."
"In case what? In case you catch me in a lie?"
He's abrasive, sitting forward on the couch in an intimidating manner. He doesn't intimidate me, but he's clearly trying to tell me that he's not worried about a thing.
I open my notebook and take out a pen. I've noticed that this gesture alone seems to put people at ease.
They're not just having a conversation with me, they are having a conversation with someone who is writing down their observations and answers.
"Nick is my neighbor. I saw him around the building and talked to him a few times. He was a cool cat."
"Were you guys friends?"
"No. I just went to a party he had briefly, but that's about it."
"What is it that you do, Danny?"
He points to the pirate ship across his stomach.
I furrow my brow and ask, "Tattoos?"
"Yeah. I work in a tattoo shop down on Melrose. I work for a landscaping business part time while I try to get my rock band off the ground."
"You're in a rock band?" I ask as if this is a surprise to me.
"Broken Pirates," he says, pointing to the 17th century ship with four masts on his stomach. "We play at Whisky a Go-Go and a few other spots, putting together our first record."
"Congratulations," I say. "What landscaping business do you work at?"
"Tuffin."
"How many hours a week?"
"Probably twenty, sometimes thirty. It varies. I mainly do businesses around here, West Hollywood, that kind of thing."
I nod.
"Hey, you should come see us play some time," he says, leaning over.
Talking about his band seems to have put him in a better frame of mind. He winks at me and smiles.
"Are you flirting with me?" I ask.
"No, of course not. I'd never flirt with a cop."
"You wouldn't, huh?" I ask, sitting back against the couch.
"You seem like t
he type of girl who likes to have a good time. I don't see a ring. You like rock music?"
"Yes, I do," I say, hating the fact that I'm enjoying the moment.
I tell myself not to flirt back, but it's a little difficult because Danny Usoro is quite easy on the eyes.
His are almond shaped and a color of deep green, even though they're a little puffy and swollen from probably a little bit too much booze.
His face is angular and he has a strong jawline. He knows exactly how to hold his head and lean over to make a girl feel special.
"Listen, you should come to one of our shows." He hands me his card.
It has the band's logo, website, and his phone number on it.
"Your rock band has a business card?" I ask. "Isn't that a little bit traditional? Corporate?"
"Listen, we're going to make it big. Making contacts is the way to do it, especially in this business. If you go on our website, you'll be able to see where we're playing. You should come out on Friday."
"Nope, I can't." I shake my head.
"You're doing something important?"
"Yes. Investigating a murder."
"Oh, come on. Don't be like that," he says, smiling with his dimples coming through.
“Man, he is one smooth guy,” I say to myself.
It would be a shame if he had something to do with this and suddenly, I regret even thinking that.
"What can you tell me about Nick?" I ask, trying to focus my attention back to what I'm here for.
"I don't know, nothing really."
"Have you met the girl who was found murdered in his apartment?"
"No. Janine, was that her name?"
"Yeah. You never met her? You never saw her?"
"No. I mean, I saw pictures of her that the deputy showed me, but no, I've never seen her before. Were they together?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
"That's too bad. He seemed like a quiet guy, but you know how it is sometimes with quiet guys."
"How is it?" I ask.
"Still waters run deep, isn't that how the saying goes?"
I nod, not entirely sure how to take this conversation.
On one hand, he's being open and sharing, but on the other, I feel like something is going on below the surface.
"He did get a tattoo at my girlfriend's, actually my fiancée’s, shop."
