by Baxter Clare
“I should chain myself to my desk until I can see the top of it again,” Gail sighed. “But I’m sure your idea’s better. What is it?”
“It’s a surprise. I think you’ll like it.”
“Another hegira?” Gail teased, making Frank smile.
“Not what I intended. Just be ready for me to pick you up at nine AM.”
“Where are we going?” Gail asked.
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise. Just wear something comfortable and plan on being gone all day. Can you do that?”
“I think I can handle it,” then, “What are you up to?”
“Just trust me. Go home. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay,” Gail said fondly, then threw in, “You’re a nut.”
“Yeah. See you in the morning.”
Frank returned to the nine-three table, vaguely amused with herself, and eager to contribute her share of damage to the fast-emptying pitchers.
When Gail opened the door to her apartment, Frank announced, “I’ve got lattes and croissants waiting in the car.”
“Let me get my purse.”
She checked Gail’s clothing while she waited. Nice jeans, scoop neck T-shirt, green like her eyes. The color reminded her of the way sun came dappled through the tall oaks on her street. Funky earrings, the gold knife and scissors Gail liked.
“Do I get to know where we’re going yet?”
“Nope. Get a jacket or a sweater and let’s go.”
Frank angled toward the 101 Freeway while Gail described the week from hell. They drove further and further west until Gail finally whined, “Where are we going?”
“All right,” Frank relented, pleased to see the city behind her in the rearview mirror. “Good morning lady, sans gentleman. Thank you for choosing Air Frank today. We know you have many other options and are pleased you’ve chosen us for your travel needs. The weather for our flight today is beautiful, highs in the low eighties, wind 10-15 miles off shore.”
Gail tilted her head back, laughing. Her neck was smooth and creamy white, and Frank suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss her there. The thought surprised her but she squelched it, continuing her patter.
“We’ll be cruising at an altitude of approximately 40 miles above sea level at a speed of 65 miles per hour. During our flight, you’ll be able to see the Pacific Ocean on your left and the San Gabriel Mountains on your right. Approximate travel time is 45 minutes, and we hope you’ll enjoy your flight to Santa Barbara. If you have any problems or questions please feel free to contact the hostess. And again, thank you for choosing Air Frank. Click.”
“Santa Barbara?” Gail asked happily.
“Yeah. I thought it’d be fun to get away for a while. You ever been to the botanical garden?”
Gail shook her head, and Frank said, “They’re supposed to be incredible this time of year. You said you wished you had a garden and this is one helluva garden. We’ll do that first, then have lunch at Citronell. Exquisite food at exorbitant prices but well worth it. After that, maybe walk off a few pounds on the beach, or check out the antique stores. You like antiques, right?”
Gail nodded, “You’ve got a good memory.”
“Helps in my line of work. So we’ll do that. Maybe grab a drink somewhere then head for home while the sun’s setting. How’s that sound?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yeah.”
“It sounds very romantic. Was that your intention?”
“No-o,” Frank said slowly, “I just wanted to get away for a while. Been a rough week. Thought it’d be nice to turn our pagers off and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“It’s very nice and you’re sweet to think of it.”
“All right then. Just sit back and relax. If you still remember how to do that.”
“I do, but I’ll bet you don’t.”
“Ah-h, I might surprise you.”
“You seem to keep doing that,” Gail observed.
Walking through the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden in spring was like walking through a museum of uncased jewels. Gail zig-zagged from flower to flower, while Frank watched indulgently, charmed by the doc’s simple and obvious pleasure. Later they ate appetizers and salad for lunch, with an outrageously good bottle of wine, then puttered through the antique stores downtown. Frank people-watched while Gail hunted unsuccessfully for deals.
With the sun heavy to the west, they started the drive back, bogged down in the weekend traffic. Frank fiddled with the radio, pausing on what sounded like the mournful opening to Tristan and Isolde.
“You like opera?” Gail asked, snuggling against the door.
“Kind of. I don’t know much about it. Maggie used to listen to it all the time and I got used to her favorites. They’re about all I know.”
“We should go sometime,” Gail said, closing her eyes.
“Wine catching up to you?”
She nodded with a sleepy smile. Frank reached across Gail and locked her door. “Always the cop,” Gail murmured.
Frank was trying to decipher the colorful strike on the truck next to her, when Gail jerked up, exclaiming, “Oh, shit!”
Snagging her big purse from behind the seat, she pulled out a large envelope and offered it to Frank.
“I forgot. It’s Luis Estrella’s lab results.”
“You’ve been carrying that around all day?”
“Well, I figured if I put it in my purse I’d see it and remember to give it to you but you haven’t let me pay for anything.”
“Shit,” Frank muttered, tearing open the envelope, “That’ll teach me to be generous. How’d you get these so quick?”
“Do you know Suzie? In the lab?”
“She that chunky little butch with the glasses?”
“She’s a little crusty,” Gail admitted, “but she’s a sweetie.”
“Probably got a crush on you.”
“I doubt it. She’s got three grandkids and a husband who just retired. I told her I’d take her out to lunch if she could get that to me ASAE”
“Must want to have lunch with you pretty bad,” Frank maintained.
“Oh, stop,” Gail said, taking a swat at Frank, who was already scanning the material. Interestingly, there was no blood on his pants, but the blood on Estrella’s sweatshirt matched samples from the rest of his murdered family, as did the samples from his shoes. A wad of old gum had trapped some fibers. Brown and tan polyesters that appeared to be automotive textiles, then an odd fiber. A horse hair. The soles also contained minute traces of what appeared to be alfalfa, oats, and horse manure.
That made Frank’s forehead crease. The Sentra behind her honked and Frank eased up to the bumper in front of her.
No blowback on his hands. Odd. After having just shot that many people, at that close a range, Luis should have had blood and flesh spatter on his hands. But there was none. No gunshot residue either. Frank grabbed a pen and wrote “gloves?” But that didn’t make sense. Luis lived at the homicide scene. His prints were all over. Why would he bother to put on gloves?
She read more. Bits of organic debris shaken from his clothing were consistent with his location in the canyon. A man tripping around in the dark would have certainly put his hands out to brace himself, but there was no mention of organic debris in the nail scrapes. There were also more alfalfa, oat and horse manure traces. Was he in a barn somewhere? A stable? Why? Frank wondered.
The lab found the same brown automobile fibers in all his clothing and in his hair. Frank remembered the interior of Luis’ car was brown. There were other fibers as well — navy, gray, and black wool. Clothing fiber. A couple others turned out to be more horse hairs.
“Jesus,” Frank breathed, her mind speeding with the sudden possibilities. She glanced at Gail dozing with her mouth slightly open. Frank was glad the doc wasn’t awake to see the notes she was scribbling on the back of the report.
Chapter Twenty-four
Frank paced around the
dining room table in shorts and a T-shirt. A couple empties stood upside down in the sink and she scowled when the phone rang. Fubar was on call and she hoped it wasn’t him. When he caught something he often asked Frank to “help”. And she had to admit, she’d spoiled him because she usually did; it was easier to take the case from the beginning than clean up his mess later.
“Franco,” she answered.
“Hi. It’s Gail. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“Nope. I was just sitting here thinking about Luis Estrella’s lab results.”
“Well, Santa’s heard you’ve been a good girl and he wants to give you an early Christmas present. Is it too late to drop it off?”
“Damn. Santa’s working overtime,” Frank smiled into the phone. “Come on over.”
When Gail arrived, Frank got her a beer, asking what she was doing out so late.
“It’s Tuesday,” Gail made a face. “Rounds until ten. Here. Before I forget and you yell at me again,” she said, handing Frank another envelope.
“I didn’t yell at you,” Frank objected.
“Yes, you did,” Gail sulked. “And here I was just trying to be nice. I’m wondering if Santa got his information mixed up about you.”
Frank grinned, “Who’s the one that took you to Santa Barbara and bought you that great lunch?”
“Well, that’s true.”
Frank fished out lab results for a beating death the nine-three caught had caught a couple weeks ago.
“I like this personal service,” she noted, scanning the data. Gail was propped against the table sipping her Corona.
“How’d you get that scar?” she asked, giving Frank’s knee a nod.
“Old football injury,” Frank murmured.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. I was playing with my cousins and I fell on a broken bottle.”
“Ouch. How about that one?” she asked, leaning to swipe a finger over a jagged line on Frank’s forearm.
“That one …” Frank said, trying to analyze a 2x4 pattern on the victim’s cheek, “came from a chain link fence. I was chasing a punk and when I hit the fence I impaled myself on a busted link, I didn’t realize it, so I ripped half my arm off when I went over.”
“How many stitches?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Do they bother you?”
“No. Can’t feel a thing. They were both a long time ago.”
“No, I meant aesthetically.”
“Nah. Scars are like wrinkles; they’re war wounds. I’ve earned every one of ‘em.”
“That’s a good attitude.”
Frank didn’t look up when Gail volunteered, “I’ve got a scar.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. A mastectomy,” the doc said without a missing a beat. Frank lowered the report. She looked for a joke in Gail’s face but didn’t see it.
“Full or partial?”
“Full. My entire left breast.”
“When?”
“A little over two and a half years ago.”
“Been clean since?”
“Knock on wood,” Gail answered, rapping on the envelope.
“You can’t tell,” Frank said.
The doc flashed a quick grin.
“I’m flattered you’ve looked.”
There was a weighted silence, in which Frank wasn’t sure what to say. Gail finally admitted, “I don’t know why I told you. I’ve never told anyone outside my immediate family. I guess it’s good to practice on a friend.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Yeah,” Gail said, “now you know better than to date me.”
“Think it makes you any less attractive?”
“I’ve rationalized in my head that it doesn’t, but on the other hand I haven’t had a date in two and a half years, so go figure. Anyway, I like what you said about a scar being a badge of honor.”
“Wear it proudly. Not every one gets the chance to.”
“You’re right,” Gail said, setting her beer down. “You have such a healthy perspective sometimes.”
Rolling her eyes, Frank said, “Tell Clay that.”
“It’s getting kind of late,” Gail said shoving off from the table. “I’ve got to go in early and prep for testimony.”
“I won’t keep you,” Frank stood. “You shouldn’t have come out of your way.”
“I don’t consider you out of the way,” Gail tossed off, then suddenly she wheeled.
“Hey! Now this isn’t fair. Here I’ve gone and shared my deepest, most intimate secret with you and I still don’t even know your first name!”
“Ahhh,” Frank said, “Tit for tat, so to speak?”
“You’re terrible,” Gail laughed, that sexy chuckle.
“This my price for such incredible personalized service from the coroner’s office?”
Gail held her palm out.
“Pay up, sister.”
“Okay,” Frank gave in. “Here goes. You have to understand that my mother was always into fads and cults. Whatever the latest trend was, she was into it. Rebirthing, Zen, EST, Christian Science — you name it, she tried it. My dad used to call it her faith-of-the-month club, and when she was carrying me, she was into Wicca. Thought she was a witch or something. It was pretty harmless. I mean, I don’t remember her sacrificing goats in the living room or anything. Anyway, she got this idea in her head that a really great name, one that would confer a lot of power for a little girl, would be — are you ready?”
Gail nodded eagerly and Frank enunciated, “Lu-ci-fe-ra An-ge-li-na.”
“No-oo,” Gail breathed.
“Yep. My dad had a fit. Tore up the birth certificate. Told my mother to give me a decent name. But she never did. That was the name she wanted. Even after the Wicca stuff faded. She was the only one who ever called me that.”
“Thank God,” Gail said, repeating the name. “What a mouthful. Was your dad as trippy as your mom?”
They’d walked outside to Gail’s car and Frank’s soft smile was almost concealed by the modest city darkness.
“No. He was a rock. My mother was out there, but my dad held it all together. I think he wanted a boy, but he made do with me. Sometimes on Saturdays he’d take me on his route. He delivered bread, and sometimes we’d stop at a hotdog stand for lunch. He took me to Giants games when he could afford them. Took me with him to the bar almost every night. I’d sit next to him, drinking a Coke and eating peanuts. He and my uncle Al would be talking to their friends. Lots of politics, war stories, bullshit. My uncle was a cop and I loved his stories the best. Sometimes he’d tell a really gory one and one of the guys would say, ‘For Christ’s sake, Al, the kid.’ My dad’d rough up my hair and put his arm around me. I loved the weight of it, so heavy and solid. It was like nothing bad could happen as long as he had his arm around me.”
Frank fell silent, thinking it would be a short slide from good memories to bad ones. But she felt Gail’s eyes gently tugging her along.
“Look. You need to go home. Gotta look sharp in front of that jury tomorrow, right?”
“Right,” Gail smiled. She finally got in her car but before she closed the door, she said, “Thanks for the beer. And for the pep talk.”
“Anytime.”
“Promise?” Gail asked.
“Promise.”
Back to back homicides at Figueroa were telling Frank what the weatherman hadn’t, that summer had arrived. Now she was sitting in the Alibi knocking back stouts. Johnnie smacked the table and she thought her crew was probably generating more noise then the rest of the bar combined.
“Blam! Blam! Blam! Just like that. Three in a row! Jesus Christ!”
Frank listened to their bitching with half an ear. She could do her own but didn’t. She’d only managed to get to the Estrella’s twice this week. Once she’d encountered only Gloria and the kids, the other time it was Claudia alone, but her pager had gone off after only a few minutes. She was tempted just to drag them all down to the stat
ion but didn’t want push to come to shove. Something told her that might make the family clamp down even harder, and Frank had a new approach she wanted to try. She promised herself more time with them this weekend. Quality time, she thought sarcastically, especially with Tonio.
Diego vacated his chair and Noah slid into it, nudging Frank.
“So where’s the doc?”
“Now why would I know that?” she asked.
“Come on,” Noah winked. “I heard you two went to Santa Barbara last weekend. And you told me you were working,” he chided.
“I did. Worked all day Sunday.”
“I want to know what happened Saturday.”
“No big. Went for a ride, had lunch, saw some flowers. That’s it.”
“That’s it,” Noah repeated.
“That’s it.”
Noah wagged his head. “I used to have more respect for you, Frank. That woman’s hot for you and you’re just sniffing flowers.”
Frank smiled slightly at the innuendo, allowed it because it came from No. He was straddling the chair and she leaned close to his ear.
“I know you pride yourself on your matchmaking skills, buddy, but maybe the girl ain’t as interested as you think. Might want to give this one a rest.”
“You mean she’s not one with the Amazons?”
“I mean we’re just friends. Period.”
“Why? Did you try something?” Noah pushed. “You know for sure?”
“Sure enough.”
“Ah,” Noah whispered, “Then no wonder you’re hangin’ with her. She’s safe.”
Frank sat back, folding her arms over her chest. A sharp rejoinder leapt to her tongue but she bit it back, acknowledging instead, “Maybe that’s what I need right now.”
Diego was approaching them, so Noah stood up. Patting Frank on the shoulder, he nodded, “True, dudess. True.”
The next morning, after punishing her hangover with a grueling workout, Frank headed into town. She caught Gloria and Tonio eating cereal and watching TV with the babies. Claudia and Alicia were in church. Frank asked a few questions and Gloria waved them away like they were gnats. No, Placa didn’t have an ulcer. No, she didn’t know where her sister went on the bus all the time. No, they didn’t know anyone who owned a car with a tan interior. No, they didn’t know anyone in the service.