Knot in My Backyard (A Quilting Mystery)

by Mary Marks

  Lucy threw up her hands. “Okay, okay. We’re going with you. We’re not letting you out of our sight. Right, Birdie?”

  Birdie got up and grabbed her keys.

  Without another word, the three of us got in my car and drove to the Boulevard.

  I found a parking spot close to Rafi’s restaurant. Temperatures were slightly cooler today, in the upper eighties. Hilda sat in her usual place, looking up and down the street. When she spotted me, she gave a little wave. Then she frowned when Lucy and Birdie emerged from the car.

  “Hey, Wonder Woman.” Hilda looked at my friends and back at me, still frowning.

  “Hi, Hilda. These are my friends Batwoman and Supergirl. They wouldn’t let me come alone. They think I’m about to do something stupid.”

  She looked from one to the other. “They know everything?”

  “Yes. You can talk freely.” I stepped close so I wouldn’t embarrass Hilda in front of the others and slipped her a twenty.

  “Okay. I talked to Switch. He said for two hundred bucks he’d give you a name. You want more—you pay more.”

  “Will I be safe going to see him down in the wildlife reserve?”

  “No. I talked him into meeting you in the little parking area just west of the Burbank Boulevard off-ramp. It’s right out in the open under a streetlight, so you should be safe there.” She eyed Birdie and Lucy warily, then turned back to me. “You’ll have to show up by yourself.”

  “What time?”

  “Ten tonight.”

  “You can’t go there, Martha dear.” Birdie shook her head. “Not in the dark. Not alone.”

  Hilda pointed her chin. “He sees Batwoman and Supergirl, and he won’t show.”

  That didn’t sound good. If Lucy and Birdie couldn’t come, what chance did I have to be protected by Crusher and his guys? “Hilda, will you come with me? He knows you, after all.”

  “I would, but I got a shelter bed tonight. Doors close at eight. If I’m not inside, I lose the bed and have to sleep rough.”

  I swallowed. “Well, how will I know him?”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll know you. I need your answer now.”

  “Okay. Tell him I’ll be there.”

  “Got it. Whatever you do, stay in the open. Don’t let him draw you into the bushes.”

  Lucy waited until we were back in my car. “What! Are you crazy?”

  “Don’t worry, Lucy. I’ll have Crusher watch my back.”

  “Dear God. Do you even know how to get in touch with him?”

  Beavers knew exactly how to get in touch with Crusher, but I couldn’t let him know my plans. Ed couldn’t help me because, as far as I knew, the police were detaining him still. What had Beavers said? Crusher owned a motorcycle repair shop in Reseda, not far from the police station. I’d search for the address on Google.

  I tried to look brave. “It’s all good, Lucy. As soon as I get home, I’m calling Crusher. I’ve got everything under control.”

  She rolled her eyes and snorted. “That’ll be the day.”

  CHAPTER 9

  I dropped my friends off and headed home. When I got to my street, I hoped to find Ed back at his house. The street was empty; but since he usually garaged his vehicles, I couldn’t tell for sure. I parked my car and headed toward his place. Nobody answered my knock. Ed must still be in custody. Was he only being detained for questioning or had he actually been charged with murder?

  I needed to find Crusher fast. As soon as I walked in my door, I went straight for the computer. I searched and found two motorcycle parts and repair shops on Reseda Boulevard: one in Reseda itself, the other farther north in Granada Hills. I chose the closest shop and dialed the phone number.

  “Bikes,” a female voice answered the phone.

  “I’d like to speak to Yossi Levy.”

  “Sorry. No one here by that name.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well, I don’t actually work here—my boyfriend does, but he’s busy with a customer right now.”

  “Uh, is Crusher there?”

  “Yeah. He’s the owner. You wanna speak to him instead?”

  I waited a tick. “Yes, please.”

  I heard her yell, “Hey, Crusher! There’s a woman on the phone looking for a dude named Levy.”

  A deep, familiar voice said, “Yeah?”

  “Hi, Yossi. It’s Martha Rose.”

  The edge went out of his voice. “Babe, what do you need?”

  “Protection. Tonight at ten. Can we talk?”

  “Beavers know?”

  “No, and I don’t want him to. He’ll freak.”

  “Meet me in the Home Depot parking lot on Balboa and Roscoe in a half hour.”

  “Why there?”

  “It’s crowded at this time of day, so nobody will notice us.”

  I couldn’t imagine Crusher becoming invisible, no matter how busy the crowd. “I’ll be there.”

  I opened a cup of plain Greek yogurt and poured in a teaspoon of agave syrup—a quick, healthy pick-me-up for late afternoon and one Charlissa would approve of. She didn’t need to know about the applesauce cake.

  Once I parked in the Home Depot lot, I didn’t have to wait long. Crusher opened the passenger door and slid the seat all the way back before squeezing his huge body into the Corolla. His head scraped the roof and he winced. “One reason I like a big Harley is because of little cars like this.”

  “What do you do during the rain?”

  “I’ve got a truck.” He shifted his shoulders around to face me. “So talk.”

  “My friend Hilda set up a meeting for me tonight at ten with that Switch guy we talked about. He insists I come alone.”

  “Yeah, I found out more today about this guy. He and a few thugs went in and took over the area where a bunch of homeless people were camping. He deals from there—even pimps out some of those women. Switch is a real lowlife. You wouldn’t be safe alone.”

  “That’s what Hilda said, so she arranged for us to meet at the parking space just west of the Burbank Boulevard off-ramp of the 405. It’s well lit and right on the road. Do you know where I’m talking about?”

  “Yeah, and I don’t like it. There’s dense shrubbery at the edge of the parking space. Switch could drag you in there—and at night, nobody would see it happen.”

  “That’s where you come in, Yossi. Except I can’t figure out how you and your guys can protect me without being seen. The meeting place is out in the open, and his people will be watching from inside the reserve.”

  He was silent for a moment. “I think I know a way. Before you get there, me and my guys will ride south on the 405. When we get close to Burbank Boulevard, we’ll cut our lights and engines and coast quietly onto the off-ramp. We can hide behind some of the bushes and trees up there. We’ll only be a few feet away from the parking area.”

  “Won’t Switch be able to see you?”

  “Not a chance. We’ll be able to see him come up from the reserve, but he won’t be able to see us because we’ll be hidden fifteen feet above him on the off-ramp.”

  “What about me? Will you be able to see me?”

  “If you stand under the streetlight, we’ll see you. Your job will be to stay in sight at all times. If we lose sight of you, we’re coming in. If he makes one suspicious move, we’re coming in. So you better get your information fast and get out of there fast. Once you’re safely in your car, we’ll book it on out and escort you home.”

  “Okay. Sounds like a plan. I have to tell you, I’m pretty scared.”

  “You’d better be scared. This dude is nobody to mess with.” He pulled out a cell phone from inside his black leather vest. “We’d better exchange cell phone numbers.”

  Two minutes later, he opened the passenger door to leave.

  “I’ll see you tonight, Yossi.”

  “Don’t leave your house until I call your cell phone. Don’t wear any jewelry and don’t take a purse. Don’t worry. We’ll be in place by the time you get th
ere. I won’t forget what you’re doing for Ed. None of us will. And, Martha?” He cupped my chin in his hand. “Beavers is a lucky man.”

  I stopped at the bank on my way home. If Switch demanded two hundred dollars for a name, how much would he demand for a location? I pulled four hundred dollars from my savings account. Ed would pay me back.

  I returned home to the phone ringing.

  “Hey, honey. How was your day?”

  Every time Beavers called me “honey,” my skin rippled with excitement. “Oh, you know. Lucy and Birdie and I spent our usual quilty day together. Birdie made my favorite applesauce cake. How was your day?”

  “Same-o.”

  “Can you tell me what’s happening with Ed?”

  “He’s still here.”

  “Has he been charged with murder?”

  “You know I can’t talk about an ongoing case. Listen, I’m afraid I’ll be working late, so I won’t be coming over tonight. I left a bag of Arthur’s food next to your washing machine.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, Arlo. I’m planning on an early night, anyway.” I blew kisses and hung up the phone.

  I felt dreadful. I’d never told Beavers a lie. If I didn’t want him to know about something, I just failed to mention it. This was the first time I’d told a deliberate falsehood. Instead of staying home, I planned to meet a dangerous criminal to get important information that might exonerate Ed—information the police couldn’t get on their own.

  I consoled myself with the thought that after this meeting I’d have solid information to give to Beavers. I was taking a chance he might be angry as heck I lied to him. I might be jeopardizing the best relationship of my life in order to help my friend Ed. I prayed the outcome would be worth the risk.

  According to Ed’s research, something very wrong went down between the Army Corps of Engineers and the Joshua Beaumont School. Was Ed being framed for murder in order to stop him from digging for information? If so, who was really responsible for Dax Martin’s murder?

  I had to go through with Crusher’s plan. Ed’s freedom might depend on it. So much hinged on what the homeless people might have seen. The stuff about Beavers and me? I’d just have to figure that out later.

  CHAPTER 10

  Crusher’s phone call came at nine-fifty, his voice a whisper. “We’re in place. Looks good. It should only take you five minutes to drive here.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be able to see me once I get there?”

  “I’ve got a straight shot. Just remember to stay under the light.”

  I paced nervously for the next five minutes and then headed for the door. Arthur stood and trotted over to me. This dog was preternaturally smart. He sensed something wonky and planted himself between me and the door.

  “Come on, Arthur, move.”

  The dog twisted his ears back, creased his forehead, looked at me, and gave me one anxious whine. I moved to the left, and so did he. I moved to the right. Ditto.

  This ninety-pound retired police dog didn’t want me to leave the house. We had history. Four months ago, when a killer came after me, I’d locked Arthur in the backyard. He couldn’t protect me then, and I could see he still hadn’t gotten over it.

  I grabbed his leash. “Okay, buddy. You win. Nobody said anything about not bringing a dog.”

  This stretch of Burbank Boulevard, from Encino east to the 405 Freeway, was dark and deserted at ten. Deep shadows engulfed the golf course to the north and the heavily wooded Encino Creek bed on the south. After Woodley Avenue, the golf course gave way to a nature reserve, with native plants and trees on both sides of the street. This was Switch’s territory, where his people lived in small tents hidden among the trees and in the underbrush.

  I pulled into a parking space next to the off-ramp, right under the single streetlight. Switch was nowhere in sight. A pair of headlights came down the off-ramp, briefly illuminating the bushes up there, before turning east on Burbank Boulevard toward Van Nuys. Crusher was right. I couldn’t see him from down below.

  I grabbed Arthur’s leash and walked around the car to stand in the light. Anyone driving by would think I was just giving my dog a potty break.

  Arthur stiffened and growled softly. We weren’t alone. My heart began to race, and I was glad for this big German shepherd by my side.

  The bushes in front of me briefly rustled and out stepped a thin, wiry white man of medium height. His shoulder-length dark hair formed a greasy curtain over his eyes. He wore a dark, unbuttoned, long-sleeved shirt over a light T-shirt and black jeans. The pointed metal caps on the toes of his cowboy boots shone under the light. A swift kick from those bad boys could do some real damage.

  Arthur refused to sit, pinned back his ears, and bared his teeth. I kept his leash short and bent to pet his head. “Easy, boy.”

  Switch kept to the shadows, speaking in a gravelly voice. “Where’s the money?” He held out his hand, but I refused to walk toward the bushes.

  I reached in my pocket and took out a pair of one-hundred-dollar bills. “If you want these, you’ll have to come and get them.” The bills fluttered from the shaking of my hands.

  In one swift move, he darted forward, grabbed the bills, and retreated back to the shadows. “Make it quick.”

  “I want to talk to the people who camped across the river from the baseball field where a man was murdered Sunday night. Hilda said you could tell me who they were.”

  “What for?”

  “I want to know if they witnessed the murder. To help out a friend of mine.”

  “Two beaners.” He spat on the ground. “Javier and his woman, Graciela, rent that space.”

  This guy collects rent from the homeless sleeping on public land?

  “Do you know where I can find them?”

  He said nothing. I reached in my pocket and took out another bill.

  He still didn’t move.

  I took out my last bill and stuck out my hand. “This is all I have.”

  He held out his hand again, not moving from the shadows.

  I stayed under the light.

  He slowly walked toward me. “They’re down with my people. I can take you to them.”

  Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the bushes.

  Several loud engines roared to life.

  I let go of Arthur’s leash. He snarled and jumped, wrapping his mouth around Switch’s arm.

  Switch let go of me and I stepped back. Then a sharp whine and Arthur fell to the ground, bleeding from a deep cut to his shoulder.

  Oh, my God. This is going all wrong.

  I bent to touch Arthur, but a strong pair of arms grabbed me from behind and pulled me to the other side of my car, out of harm’s way.

  At the same time, the bikers arrived, four dark figures rose from the bushes below, Switch’s thugs. Soon fists and chains hit flesh.

  All I could think about was getting Arthur out of the scuffle of so many pairs of boots and dragging him to safety. I crept back around my car toward the fighting. Arthur raised his head, propped himself up on his side, and tried to drag himself, using his one good foreleg and pushing with his back legs.

  I ran forward, grabbed him around his chest, and pulled with all my might, dragging the heavy German shepherd back toward my car. He whined in pain, leaving a dark trail of blood behind.

  Crusher yelled at me, “Get out of here!”

  I opened the door to the backseat of my car. “Not without my dog!”

  I tried to lift Arthur up into the car, but he was way too cumbersome for me.

  Suddenly a biker appeared beside me. He scooped up the dog in his arms, laid him gently into the backseat, and slammed the door shut. “Go!”

  I ran to the driver’s side, jumped in, and turned the ignition key even before I’d shut the door. Arthur’s cries of pain were muffled by the sound of my tires squealing on the road.

  Oh, please don’t let him die! Please don’t let him die.

  CHAPTER 11

  I broke the sp
eed limit all the way to the twenty-four-hour animal hospital in Encino, pulled into the parking lot, and leaned on my horn, hoping to arouse someone inside. A tech dressed in blue scrubs came to the door.

  I jumped out and opened the passenger door. “My dog! He’s been stabbed! Please help me!”

  The tech yelled something over his shoulder; then another tech appeared, running with a rolling stainless-steel table. Arthur whined softly as they pulled him gently out of the car. Blood dripped on the carpet and puddled on the seat. He lifted his head and gave me a sad look.

  The open car door triggered a persistent dinging to let me know the keys were still in the ignition. I ran inside after the techs, ignoring the sound.

  Arthur had tried to keep me from leaving the house tonight; I took him with me instead. I was so ashamed. I put him in danger, knowing he’d protect me, even at the risk of his own life.

  Frantic for reassurance, I grabbed the tech’s sleeve as his helper wheeled Arthur through doors marked STAFF ONLY. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “Don’t know yet. He’s got a deep laceration on his shoulder and he’s lost a lot of blood. Looks like he’ll need surgery. We’ll know more after the doc looks at him. Meanwhile, register at the desk and then have a seat and wait.”

  I ran back to the car, pulled the keys from the ignition, and grabbed my purse from under the seat. I reached inside for my cell phone, dreading the call I had to make. I could hardly see through my tears.

  He answered on the second ring. “Beavers.”

  “Oh, Arlo, I’ve done something so foolish. Now Arthur is hurt. I’m so sorry,” I blubbered.

  “Slow down. Are you all right? What’s this about Arthur?”

  “I went out tonight and took Arthur with me. Someone attacked me and then stabbed the dog when he jumped in to protect me. I’m at the animal hospital in Encino.”

  His voice got very quiet. “Were you injured?”

  “No. But Arthur—”

  “How bad?”

  “He got stabbed in the shoulder. He’s in with the doctor now. He may need surgery.”

  “Where were you when this happened?”

  “On Burbank Boulevard.”