“How awful for you,” she said softly. “That whole thing was awful. Just awful, wasn’t it?”
“I know Jerry had a girlfriend who worked here,” I said. “I thought she might want to … well, she might want to talk a bit.”
My reason for coming here wasn’t to offer comfort to Jerry’s girlfriend, really, but to try and gain some insight into what was going on with him during the last few weeks of his life. And if that somehow led to his killer, I figured it would be okay with the girlfriend.
“That would be Charla,” she said softly. “Wasn’t that just awful? It was awful, wasn’t it?”
“Awful,” I agreed.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and disappeared through the curtained doorway behind her.
A few minutes later Charla appeared. Her gray hair was pulled back in a ponytail and deep wrinkles cut grooves around her mouth and eyes. She looked as if life had been difficult for her.
“Dana?” She came forward and reached for my hand. “Oh, Dana, I’m so pleased to meet you. I feel like I know you. Jerry talked about you.”
“He did?” I asked.
“Let’s go outside,” Charla said, and led the way out of the shop. We moved into the shade at the corner of the building, near the flower carts.
“Jerry knew how you helped out his friend Francis, at the bar,” Charla said.
“I’m so sorry about what happened,” I said. “I know this is a tough time for you.”
Charla sighed and years of emotional wear and tear showed on her face.
“Things happen,” she said, and forced a smile. “We have to trust in the Lord and know it’s for the best. Part of His plan. Jerry would agree with that.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
“I didn’t know Jerry was involved in a church,” I said.
“You’re remembering the old Jerry,” Charla said, her smile a little brighter now. “The new Jerry came to church with me every Sunday. I insisted. He was reluctant at first, but he came.”
“He’d turned his life around?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, indeed he had,” Charla said. “In the last few weeks he was atoning for all his sins. Confessing what he’d done wrong. Trying to make up for his mistakes. Even trying to patch up things with his children.”
I flashed on Brooke and her mother Patricia in the verbal altercation with Marsha over Jerry’s money that had required police intervention.
“How was that going?” I asked.
“Slowly,” Charla admitted. “But Jerry was getting there. I know he would have had a wonderful relationship with those kids if he hadn’t—”
She paused and tears pooled in her eyes.
“Any idea who might have done this to Jerry?” I asked.
“I can’t imagine why anyone would do something like that,” she said.
We were both quiet for a couple of minutes, then Charla drew in a breath and gave herself a shake.
“Thank you for coming by,” she said. “And if you’d like to go to services, let me know. You can always find me here at the shop.”
“I will,” I said, and headed for my car.
I’d reached the front fender when I heard her call my name. I turned and saw her walking toward me. I met her halfway.
“There was one thing. I don’t know if it means anything. Probably not, but well, you never know,” Charla said. “I went to pick up Jerry one evening in that alley behind the strip mall. You know, where Jerry had his office? When I pulled in I saw him standing outside. He seemed to be arguing with a woman.”
“When was this?” I asked.
“Last week. Tuesday,” Charla said. “Tuesday nights are our prayer service.”
“Did you recognize her?” I asked.
“I don’t know any of Jerry’s friends, not on sight, anyway. He told me about quite a few, like you and Francis at the bar. We associate with people from the church. But things got heated between them. Jerry saw me and must have said something, because she stormed off.”
“What did she look like?” I asked.
“Oh, dear, my eyes aren’t what they used to be, of course,” she said. “But she was tall, trim, with long hair. Blonde hair.”
“What did Jerry say about her?” I asked.
“He told me not to worry. Said it was nothing.”
“Did you notice what sort of car she drove away in?” I asked.
Charla thought for a few seconds and shook her head. “Not really.”
She glanced back at the flower shop. “I’d better get in there. Let me know if you want to go to church,” she said, and hurried away.
Brooke had long blonde hair. I hadn’t paid much attention to the car that she and Patricia drove away in the day of the confrontation outside the office. I had only a vague memory that it was dark. Small and dark. Like the vehicle that had killed Jerry.
Had Patricia learned of the argument between her daughter and her ex-husband? Had it been the final straw?
Maybe the reason I couldn’t find a connection between Eric’s bogus loan and Jerry’s death was simple.
There wasn’t one.
Chapter 9
I checked my watch as I started my car. Manny wasn’t supposed to be back from his meeting in Riverside with the DM until after lunch, several hours from now, but there was always a chance he’d come back early. Since I’d left the office under false pretenses, I didn’t want him to return and not find me there.
I dug my cell phone from my handbag and called the office, hoping Carmen would answer. She did.
“Is Manny back?” I asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “You want me to leave a message for him?”
“No,” I said. “I’ll be back to the office soon.”
“Okay,” she said. “See you later—oh, wait. You got a message.”
I cringed at the thought that Ronald had called me again, which I didn’t feel so great about.
“A lady named Marsha called,” Carmen said.
I hoped that meant she had some good news about the appraisals Jerry had been working on for us.
“Text me her number, would you?” I asked.
“Yeah—oh, got to run. Customer.” She hung up.
I sat in the car for a few minutes until my cell phone chimed and the text with Marsha’s phone number appeared on my screen. I called and she answered right away.
“Good news,” Marsha said. “I have several of the appraisal reports that belong to Mid-America on my computer at home. I’m getting the photos printed out.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Can I come by and pick them up?”
“I’ll be at the office tomorrow,” she said.
“Okay, I’ll see you then,” I said. “Thanks for—”
“Dana?”
Something about the way she said my name set my nerves on edge.
“A strange thing happened and I don’t know what to do about it,” Marsha said. “I was cleaning out Jerry’s desk and I found money hidden in the bottom of a drawer. Over two grand. In cash.”
That was a lot of money to leave lying around—especially when Jerry was having trouble paying his bills and keeping up with his alimony and child support.
“Where did it come from?” I asked.
“No idea. He was always paid by check. I handled his bank account,” Marsha said. She paused for a bit then said, “I think the money should go to Patricia.”
This, I hadn’t expected.
Marsha rushed on. “I know, I know, she made a big scene and that daughter of hers threatened me, but let’s face it, Jerry was no saint. Yes, he’d turned his life around these past few weeks but he put her through a lot.”
I thought about it for a few seconds. Should I go along with giving Patricia the money even though I suspected her of running Jerry down in the alley?
“And she’s got those teenagers,” Marsha pointed out.
I decided that whether Patricia killed Jerry or not, her kids could still use the money.
“I agree,�
�� I said.
Marsha heaved a sigh. “I’m glad because, well, I’m kind of afraid to approach Patricia after what happened the other day. I was wondering if you’d take it to her.”
This was hardly an enviable task—I wasn’t all that crazy about approaching Patricia either—but I understood Marsha’s concern.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll pick up the money from you when I get the appraisal reports.”
“You’re a life saver, Dana. See you tomorrow,” she said and hung up.
I started my car and pulled out of the parking lot but instead of heading south toward the office, I went north and turned right onto State Street.
Nobody kept that much money hidden in a desk drawer unless they were up to something. I thought about Eric and the fraudulent loan I’d discovered, and wondered again if Jerry was somehow connected to it. There was no way I could ever find out for sure, since I wasn’t authorized to pull every file in the Bonita branch and check out the borrowers, but I knew somebody who would probably already know the truth.
I cruised down State Street for a few miles, passed the Bonita office, then turned onto Jackson Park. I swung into an apartment complex. Janine lived there. Not long ago when her car had been in the shop I’d given her a ride to work for a couple of days. We’d exchanged phone numbers back then, but I didn’t want to call now. I was afraid she’d tell me not to come over.
I spotted her Kia, pulled in next to it, then left my car and headed for her apartment. The complex was huge and showing signs of aging, but was well maintained. There were lots of green belts, trees, and shrubs.
Her apartment was on the second floor. I climbed the stairs and knocked on her door. There was no noise from inside and I wondered if she was out for a walk or visiting a neighbor, or still in bed. I knocked again.
Finally I heard footsteps and a few seconds later the door opened a crack. Janine peeked out beneath the security chain.
“Feel like some company?” I asked.
Her gaze darted past me. “Are you alone?” she whispered.
I nodded. Janine hesitated for a few seconds, then pushed the door closed. I heard the rattle of the security chain and the door opened again.
“The police keep coming by,” Janine said stepping back and wringing her hands. “They’ve been here twice already. I don’t want to talk to them anymore.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said, and walked inside. She closed the door behind me and slid the chain into place again.
The apartment was silent. No music played. I didn’t hear the television.
From what I could see from the entryway, Janine had decorated her apartment as if she intended to live there for a while. She had nice furniture, plants, and pictures on the walls. Everything looked neat and clean, and well cared for.
I couldn’t say the same for Janine. She had on sweat pants, a washed out T-shirt, and her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail. Her face was puffy and her eyes were red. I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been crying, or not sleeping much.
I followed her into the living room. All the blinds were drawn, casting everything in dim light.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Not that great,” she said, and gestured to the sofa. I sat down and she plopped into the chair across from me. “I keep seeing it over and over in my head. I can’t make it stop.”
Janine pressed her fingertips to her lips. They were shaking.
“That’s terrible,” I said, and was glad I hadn’t been in Janine’s place in the alley. I wouldn’t want those pictures in my head for the rest of my life.
“And the nightmares.” Janine clamped her palms against her head. “They won’t stop.”
Obviously, Janine had been deeply traumatized by witnessing Jerry’s death. I remembered Nick’s suggestion that she’d recognized the driver and I wondered if perhaps she had, and that knowledge had added to her distress.
Still, I couldn’t imagine why she wouldn’t just come out and say so if she knew—or suspected—who the driver was.
Janine leaned back in the chair and tears welled in her eyes. “The doctor gave me some pills. They aren’t helping.”
I’d come here hoping Janine would have some input on what was going on with Eric and the possibility that he was making fraudulent loans. I could see that she was emotionally fragile. I didn’t want to make things worse.
Janine folded her hands and gazed toward the window. Since the blinds were closed she couldn’t see out, but she kept staring.
A few awkward moments dragged by and I was sorry I’d come. I wanted to leave, but I didn’t think I should just walk out.
“Can I get you something?” I asked. “Do you need anything?”
Another minute passed. She kept staring at the blinds.
“It was a four.” Finally, Janine turned to me. “I remembered it when I woke up this morning. It was a four. The license plate. It started with a four.”
California license plates started with a number, followed by three letters and three numbers. That first number was an indicated of when the vehicle was originally purchased, or the last time it changed hands. A car with a plate that began with a four had been on the road for a long time, around fifteen years old.
“I should tell the police,” Janine murmured. “I don’t want to talk to them anymore.”
I didn’t see this as a clue that would break the case but maybe it would help.
“Would you like me to tell them for you?” I asked.
Janine didn’t say anything. Her gaze was fixed on a spot across the room. I decided to try and lighten the mood.
“The office’s Thanksgiving food drive is creeping along,” I said. “But Inez will pull it together in plenty of time.”
That seemed to snap Janine out of her stupor.
“My uncle Saul manages the Vons store on State Street,” she said. “He’s donating all kinds of food. I just have to pick it up.”
“That explains why I didn’t find a list of donors in your desk,” I said. “Eric asked me to check on it and follow up—”
“What?” Janine lurched to her feet, screaming. “You’re working there? In that office?”
I jumped up. “Well, yes, but—”
“You have to get out of there!” Janine shook her head frantically. “That last girl, the one before Misty, she got told to quit—or else. And I told Misty to mind her own business. I told her. I told her not to look at him. Not to talk to him unless she absolutely had to. You didn’t talk to him, did you? Did you?”
“You mean Eric?” I asked.
“Yes!”
What had I stumbled on? Something far worse than a possible fraudulent loan? I had no idea where this was going.
“Eric told that last girl to quit or else?” I asked.
“Not him! Her!” Janine shrieked. “She thought that girl was flirting with him. She comes to the office all the time. She sees everything that goes on.”
“Lourdes?” I asked.
“She’s crazy!”
I was beginning to think Janine was the crazy one.
So Lourdes was protective of her relationship with Eric. Maybe she had good reason. Maybe there was something going on between him and the girl who’d worked there before Misty. Maybe he’d cheated on her, or she suspected him of cheating on her now.
Sure, confronting an office employee and threatening her if she didn’t resign wasn’t right. But was it crazy?
I thought about Patricia. I thought about my own mom. How far would any woman go when it came to dealing with an unfaithful husband?
“Everything is going to be okay,” I said to Janine, in the most soothing voice I could muster. “I’ll talk to Misty. I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble with Eric and Lourdes. And believe me, I don’t want to go back and work in that branch ever again.”
Janine drew in big breaths. “Promise?”
“Promise,” I said and drew a little cross over my heart.
“Okay,” she
said. “Okay.”
She seemed better but I was worried about leaving her alone.
“Does your mom or somebody live nearby?” I asked.
Janine nodded.
“Maybe you should call her, ask her to come over.”
She gulped hard. “Mom said I should hire an attorney. But I’ll be okay. Really, I’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I couldn’t force her to call someone.
“If you need anything, let me know,” I said.
Janine drew in another big breath, held it for a few seconds, and let it out slowly.
“Thanks,” she said.
As I left the apartment, I heard Janine lock the door and slide the security chain into place. I thought I should call Nick and tell him what she’d remembered about the suspect vehicle.
I also thought about how life had turned around for Eric. He’d hooked up with a psycho girlfriend back in high school and later had found a wife who loved him deeply, even if she sometimes showed it in a kind of crazy way.
Seemed Eric’s luck had been outstanding.
Chapter 10
I knew there was no way Janine would be up to collecting the Thanksgiving food donations and getting them delivered to the Bonita office, so I took on the task. I figured it was the decent thing to do—plus, it delayed my return to work by at least another half hour.
Janine’s uncle Saul at the Vons grocery store was really nice when I explained about Janine and that I was there to pick up the donation. He looked at my business card, then asked one of the bag boys to cart everything to my car.
While the guy packed my trunk and back seat full of cases of canned beans, peas, corn, and mixed vegetables, Saul talked about what Janine had been through witnessing the hit-and-run. I thanked him for the donation and left.
I didn’t know how Eric planned to get the donation to the food bank in L.A.—Corporate had left it to the branches to figure it out—so I called the Bonita office as soon as I pulled away from Vons.
“Eric’s not here,” Misty told me, when she answered the phone.
“Let him know I picked up the canned goods donation Janine got,” I said. The last Eric knew, Janine hadn’t done anything about the food drive. I figured I’d explain everything when I dropped off the donation.
Fatal Luck Page 7
