by Diane Capri
“I’m keeping you from your dog. Will he be okay?”
“Yeah. He has plenty of food and water. He just gets lonely when he’s alone too long.”
“Dr. J’s like that. He sulks.”
“Scooby Scooby Doo…where are you?” Dr J said and hopped back into his cage, his back to them. “Goodnight.”
They laughed.
“Would you like something? A drink? Coffee?” Piper asked.
“Thanks, I’m fine.” He looked away. “Which room were you in when you saw the handyman spying on you with the binoculars?” Jason asked.
She took him upstairs to the guest bedroom that faced the back of the house. In the dark room, with only filtered light from downstairs to see by, Jason looked through the binoculars at the window where Piper had seen first the scarred hand, then the message, and finally Luke. The blinds in every room across from them were now closed.
Piper took the binoculars. “The message is still there. They may not be aware that Sybil is trying to get help.”
In the window’s reflection, she saw Jason standing close behind her, his eyes not on the neighbor’s window but on her.
Was it concern or duty that made him stand so close?
He lowered his head and touched his lips to the nape of her neck. A tingling wave of warmth radiated from her neck to her toes. She closed her eyes. His lips caressed a trail along her neck to the side of her face. She turned and lifted her face up to his. Their lips met and the kiss was soft and sweet. He kissed the corners of her mouth and then her eyes, his lips burning a trail down her throat to the hollow in her neck.
“Are you married?” she whispered.
“No.”
“Attached?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He kissed her throat again. “Are you married?”
“Not for long.”
“Attached?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He looked into her eyes and smiled. She smiled back.
The phone rang.
“Don’t answer it?” he said, his voice hoarse and low.
She glanced at the caller ID and gasped. Her name was on the display.
Jason saw it at the same time. “Answer it.” He pressed the speaker button.
She lifted the receiver to her ear but didn’t speak.
“Lose something?” It was Luke’s voice. “I can return it to you. No trouble.”
Jason disconnected and placed the receiver back on the base.
After the phone call from Luke that interrupted their intimate moment, Jason patrolled the house again, checking every window and door. Piper climbed into the guest bed. Jason pulled an overstuffed chair next to her bed. He kicked off his shoes, dropped into the chair, propping his feet on the bed, his service revolver across his lap. She fell asleep and dreamed of a safe place and tender kisses. Jason’s kisses. His body close, his arms holding her tight, protecting her. When she awoke, Jason was lying beside her. She longed to feel his body curled around her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Tropical Palms,” Jason said, looking around. “Why do they give rat holes like these such exotic names? I don’t see any palms or feel the ocean breeze. We’re miles from the ocean.”
That morning Jason and Piper parked on Broadway across from the Tropical Palms Hotel. The neighborhood was every bit as seedy as he had said it’d be. On the fringe of skid row, rundown buildings with boarded up windows, hand-painted signs advertising twenty-five-cent X-rated movies, and GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS in neon blinked and flashed up and down the entire block. That morning Jason had suggested coming here on his own to make sure Mr. Avidon was the former guard from Triple Oaks Sanatorium. Piper insisted he take her with him. The homeless, the indolent, walking the streets or huddling in makeshift shelters confirmed to Piper this was no place for a woman to visit by herself. Even accompanied by Jason, a brawny officer with a .38 special, she felt apprehensive. Several young men openly dealing drugs on the corner glared at them.
Instead of getting out immediately, they sat looking at the depressing pea-green building. Along the second and third stories of the building, where the hotel rooms were located, faded and tattered curtains waved outside several open windows. The glass in every room was dull and streaked, the sills lumpy with mounds of pigeon droppings. In one window, an American flag twisted and flapped in the breeze.
“You and your husband, are you divorcing?”
“I filed the day I left him.”
“Any chance of reconciliation?”
“None,” she replied. “How about you?”
“Divorced.”
“Children?”
“Two boys, eight and ten. I wanted a houseful, but my wife thought two was enough. The boys live with their mother in Oregon. I get them on school breaks and in the summertime. They just went back to school.”
“You’re lucky. I wanted children. Still do. Gordon didn’t.”
“You thought he’d change his mind after you were married?”
“He pretended to want kids. He used my desire for a baby against me, to keep me at home and under his control. He never intended to have children. Two years into our marriage he had a vasectomy without telling me. All the while letting me think that I might be sterile, not him.”
“That stinks.”
“Yeah, it does. Did.”
His cell phone rang. “Bower here.”
He listened, thanked the caller, hung up and turned to Piper. “Looks like we’re on the right track. Just got confirmation that Elliot Avidon married a Judith Neely one week after the death of Norma Knoller. If this guy’s our guy, he might have something to say. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try. Ready?”
Together they crossed the street to catcalls and hoots from the group of young men, which had doubled in size. Jason didn’t hold her arm, but walked close beside her, their upper arms brushing occasionally.
They entered a closed-in staircase reeking of cat urine and feces. Graffiti scrawled boldly in black, red, and yellow spray paint gave the narrow space its only pulse of color. One flight up and to the left was the dim, windowless desk nook. No one was there. A stork of a man in a janitor uniform walked by with a plunger and a coiled metal drain snake.
“Excuse me,” Jason said, “can you tell us which room is Elliot Avidon’s?”
“Don’t know no names. Gotta talk to Wyatt.” He pointed to the empty desk-clerk nook. “But he don’t come on until late afternoon. Come back then.”
They returned to the car.
“What now?” Piper asked.
“We can go to my place. I’d like to shower and change and feed my dog.”
“Of course.”
He lived in Studio City, in the hills in a modest house just off Mulholland Drive. The view from the back of the house, looking down on Universal City, was spectacular. They stood at the side gate to the rear deck.
“Doofus jumps up on people when he meets them. He can be pretty overbearing. Let me put him out in the yard first. Kitchen’s right inside. Help yourself to whatever. If you feel brave, join us the yard.”
The dog burst out onto the deck and leaped down the stairs. He lifted his leg, made a huge puddle, and then ran straight for Jason. They roughhoused as Piper slipped through the gate, onto the deck, and into the house. The big black dog was a mix with no distinctive breed characteristics. She smiled again. Damn, she was a real sucker for a man who loved animals. Gordon hated them. When they had been married about two years, she bought a goldfish. A week later, while she was out to lunch with Belle, he flushed it down the toilet, telling her it had died. That was when she began to mistrust him, and later to hate him.
On the wall in the dining room hung a small grouping of photographs, photos of Jason fishing on a boat with friends, Jason receiving a plaque from the Governor, Jason with a Boy Scout troop in the woods. A studio photograph of two boys and a woman held the center position. The boys looked like Jason. The woman w
as movie-star pretty. Blond hair, green eyes and a beautiful mouth with full lips. His sons and former wife, no doubt. They made an attractive couple. Piper felt a pang of envy. Jason hadn’t sounded bitter or hardened by the split. He exhibited nothing but respect for his former wife, the mother of his children. Her picture graced his wall. Was he still in love with her? She glanced out the window. Jason was still in the yard, tossing a stick for his dog.
Spotting a bathroom at the end of the hallway, she headed for it. She passed a bedroom, probably the master bedroom, with a king-size bed, catching a glimpse of more framed photographs on the wall as she passed. She stopped. Stepped back.
She tried to see from the hallway, and then took a couple steps inside the room. Was that a picture of Thomas VanRaven and Clint Eastwood? Two incredible directors together in a snapshot that clearly wasn’t a publicity shot. Why did he have photos of these movie icons on his bedroom wall? She ventured further inside the room. Then she saw a picture of Jason with an arm around VanRaven and Sydney Pollack, and was that Robert Redford, and Julia Roberts, and the president? There were also several shots of Jason and some well-known television actors. The man at the wrap party sitting next to VanRaven in the theater had been Jason, not just a lookalike.
“You know what they say about curiosity—it killed the cat,” Jason whispered in her ear.
She jumped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you know these people.”
“They’re not a big part of my life anymore. It wasn’t important.”
She pointed at the photo of VanRaven. “You were at the wrap party. Why where you there?”
“To see you.”
“What? Then why did you duck out without talking to me? And how did you know I’d be there?”
“Because I figured your best friend and ex-husband, Lee, would be there to support her client, the leading lady. I hoped you’d show.”
“How did you know I knew Lee?”
“I did some checking.” He turned her to face him.
“I don’t understand. I talked to you that day. I called you about Sybil and you brushed me off. You—”
He slipped his hands around the small of her back. “At the time there was nothing I could do about your neighbor. But I wanted to see you, and not on official business.” He pulled her closer.
“That doesn’t make any sense, I—”
His mouth came down on hers. The touch of his lips sent a shockwave through her. All morning she had thought about his kiss and wanted to feel his lips on hers again. His hands slid down, cupping her buttocks, and brought her against him. She felt herself responding to the warmth of his hard body and his kiss. He smelled of dog fur, fresh grass and clover.
Then he pulled away, peeled off his shirt, and said, “I’m going to take a shower.” He pecked at her mouth and walked into the master bathroom, tossing the shirt onto the bed.
She stood there, her fingers touching her tingling lips. Her body aching for his touch.
She waited until she heard the shower water running, then she undressed and joined him.
#
They returned to the Tropical Palms and climbed the narrow staircase again to the second floor. The desk clerk, a bear of a man, sat talking on the phone while swiping a giant pretzel through a plate of brown speckled mustard.
He watched them approach, his eyes hard, unfriendly. “… and ten to win on seven at Santa Anita.” He breasted the receiver. “Whadda ya want?”
“Elliot Avidon’s room number,” Jason said.
“He ain’t in.”
“Any idea when he might be back?”
“Nope.” He put the phone back to his ear.
Jason stood, watching the man.
“Andy, I’ll get back to you.” He hung up the phone. “Hey, pal, this ain’t no dorm, and I don’t keep track of people.”
Piper stepped forward. “Please, sir, it’s a matter of life or death. A woman’s life may be in jeopardy. Mr. Avidon hasn’t done anything wrong. I swear. It’s a personal matter. We need to talk to him about … well, about someone he knew a long time ago.”
He glanced up at Jason and crinkled his nose in disdain. “Your guy goes out every afternoon. Don’t know where. Most days he comes back around five-thirty … six.” They all glanced at the clock on the wall. “You got at least half hour to go.”
Jason pulled out his wallet and extracted two twenties. “Could you call when Mr. Avidon shows up? And maybe not let on to him that we want to talk with him.”
The desk clerk reached for the twenties. Jason pulled them back. “One now, the other one after we talk with Avidon.”
“What’s yer number?”
They returned to the car to wait. The drug dealers from that morning had moved down one block. In their place stood a group of young boys smoking, passing around a magazine, and laughing—the drug dealers of tomorrow.
“Why didn’t you tell him you were with the police?”
“Nothing shuts down the flow of information faster than flashing a shield to guys like him. Money talks. Besides, I’m sure he could smell cop on me. I look like a cop, don’t I?”
She shook her head. “You look like someone in the business, the film business.”
“No shit.”
“What did you do?”
“Scriptwriter. TV mostly. LA Beat and others. I’m one of the few scriptwriters who went from the biz into law enforcement. It’s usually the other way around.”
“I thought your name was familiar. I just didn’t make the connection.”
“Why would you?”
“Do you like your job?” she asked.
“I must. It cost me my marriage. Well that and a few other things, like we had absolutely nothing in common except for the boys.”
“I married my high school sweetheart.” When he looked at her with a baffled expression, she added. “Oh, no, not Gordon. I wouldn’t have looked twice at Gordon in high school. He was everything I hated back then. And resented. Ironically, after years of wild and crazy behavior, when I thought it was time to settle down, he looked pretty good to me. My professional knight. I wanted a home, kids, stability. Only it didn’t work out the way I hoped it would. My first husband is my best friend.”
“I don’t mean to pry, and you can tell me to take a flying leap, but isn’t it kind of weird having your ex-husband become your closest female buddy?”
The last time Piper and Lee had been together it had been miserably awkward. Now it didn’t seem such a big deal after all. Piper understood Lee’s position. To Lee, Piper was still the same woman she’d loved in high school. Yet, they couldn’t go back.
“Lee was a friend before she was my husband. Gordon, on the other hand, was never a friend. He had to be number one, had to control everything. I grew up in an easygoing, trusting, all-female environment. I didn’t know how much I missed my independence until I saw it slipping away, year by year.”
Piper pulled her knees to her chest and circled her arms around them. “When I edit a movie, I’m able to manipulate the scenes to the director or producer’s liking, moving things around to get the best fit. I guess I need the freedom to express myself in my life. With Gordon there was no flexibility, no way but his way. Instead of taming me, he brought me down as subtly as a tiger brings down a wounded gazelle.”
“If he did, he couldn’t keep you down. You’re one helluva fighter, Piper.” Jason covered her hand with his.
“Gordon said I was a champion for the underdog. He considered it a flaw.”
“He’s an idiot. It’s what I admired about you. You wouldn’t give up on the widow. Not even when you knew that people thought you were delusional. You were willing to risk your own neck to save hers. That’s not a flaw, it’s a virtue.”
Jason shifted and leaned forward. “There’s a man coming down the street. He’s walking very slowly.”
She followed his gaze. About fifty feet from the entrance to the Tropical P
alms a man with dirty blond hair combed straight back stopped at the doorway. He flipped a cigarette butt into the street, pressed a hand to his chest, and began to cough. The coughing fit went on for so long and with such fierceness the man had to lean against the front of the building. Red-faced and hunched over, he pushed himself off and walked another twenty feet before repeating the process. Finally reaching the hotel entrance, he used both hands to pull open the door, then disappeared inside.
“If that’s our boy, he’s got serious health problems,” Jason said.
“Do we go?”
“We wait. If the desk clerk wants the rest of the money, he’ll call.”
The seconds ticked away. Piper realized she was holding her breath and exhaled. “How can you stand the waiting,” she asked. “I’m a bundle of nerves.”
Jason smiled. “I picture what he’s doing, his progress. He’s climbing those ten steps to the second floor. With his bad heart or lungs, it’s a little slow going. He should be at the top now. He nods to the desk clerk, no words are exchanged. They don’t have a speaking relationship. The desk clerk is watching him cross the lobby, or that open space that passes for a lobby, to the corridor. One…two…three…four…five. Five steps. Now he’s out of sight to the desk clerk, who is staring at my phone number, debating whether to make that call or not. He’s thinking about that second twenty, which of course, helps him decide. Also, like I said, he’s no friend to the tenant. He picks up the phone on the desk, checks the number, and dials. It should be ringing just about…now.”
When his cell phone rang, she jerked slightly. Even knowing it might ring hadn’t prepared her for Jason’s prophetic talents.
“Yeah…” Jason said while reaching for the door handle. “Thanks, we’re on our way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The desk clerk took Jason’s twenty-dollar bill without a word, jammed it into his pants pocket, and pointed to the corridor. “Two C.”
The sour smell of urine continued, becoming stronger the farther down the windowless corridor they went. The gray carpet was bare in spots, the corded backing showing through. The door to 2A stood open. An obese man in his thirties sat on a metal chair looking out the window, the window displaying the American flag. As they passed, he glanced their way and saluted.
