A black BMW was parked in the drive and gleamed in the late afternoon sun. Nobody came or went, and after five minutes, I felt restless. If something didn't happen soon, we'd flip a coin to see who got to take the first nap. "Did you talk to Eric?"
"I texted him. You talk to Ted?"
"Same."
"Eric's pissed. Is Ted pissed?"
"I don't know. He hasn't answered yet."
An old lady with a poodle on a leash tottered in our direction. I buzzed up the windows and we slouched lower in our seats. The woman paused as she neared the car. I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable rap on the window and the concerned inquisitive eyes staring in. Then the dog yapped. When I peaked in the mirror, I saw the woman shuffling away.
Zelda inched up in her seat and checked her mirror. "God, I hate that."
I buzzed down the windows. "Yeah, summer surveillance sucks. Crap, it's hot." I inched up in my seat and checked the side mirror again. "We should've grabbed some burgers on the way — he's taking his time getting the evening started."
Zelda adjusted her mirror. "We should've brought Boomer. At least we could've pretended to be neighbors walking our dog."
"And when he skipped out of his house, got in his car and drove off, then what? We scoop up the dog, run for our car, and give chase? That's not obvious or anything."
Zelda smirked. "If Joe wasn't so cheap, we'd have a tracker on his back bumper and be watching him from Starbucks."
My mouth watered at the thought of an iced latte. "Heads up." Beidemeyer came out of the house and got into the Beemer. He wore jeans, sneakers and a powder blue golf shirt. "Pretty casual dress for a business meeting."
Beidemeyer fired up the Beemer, backed out of his drive, and passed us heading north. I turned the ignition and eased out of the parking space. We still had daylight so I could stay back and keep him in sight.
Beidemeyer turned onto Lassen and headed for the 405 north. Then he cut over to the 118, drove through Pacoima, and hopped onto the 210, toward Sunland. I glanced at Zelda. "Is this what they call irony?"
Zelda gaped at me. "Where's he going? Does he know we're following him?"
I watched at Beidemeyer maneuvering around a truck. "Even if he did, he wouldn't know where we lived."
Beidemeyer cut across three lanes to catch the Sunland Boulevard exit ramp. Since I'd hung back, there was plenty of time to change lanes and catch the exit without drawing attention. The Beemer was six cars ahead of us in the left turn lane, waiting at the stop light.
Zelda stuck her head out the window and craned her neck. "Seriously, where is this dude going?"
The light changed and we followed Beidemeyer through onto Foothill. He stayed on Foothill for less than a minute and hooked a left at Sunland Park. Again, I followed him through the light in slack-jawed wonder. Like Zelda, I couldn't believe we'd driven up to North Hills only to follow our target back to our own neighborhood.
He slowed as he approached the parking lot entrance but drove past, hooked around the park and cut over to Hillcrest. Anxiety tap danced in my stomach as Beidemeyer continued on the exact route I drove everyday to get home. It appeared our cover was blown until he hooked a right at Mount Gleason, drove a couple blocks, and pulled into Al's Steak House parking lot. Curious.
The smell of grilled steak hit my nostrils. I breathed in deeply. "Maybe we'll get dinner after all." I approached the restaurant slowly until I saw Beidemeyer heading for the front door.
After he had disappeared inside, I pulled the Lincoln into a back space by the Oleander bushes. When Beidemeyer came out, the Lincoln would be one of many anonymous vehicles parked in the shadows of a dimly lit lot.
Zelda tossed me my go bag, and we quickly changed. I pulled a pink silk blazer on over my tank top and shorts, changed out my flip-flops for sandals, then swept up my curly locks with a couple of sparkly hairclips.
Zelda pulled a slip dress over her tank and shorts, eased into a pair of silver sandals, and released her dark hair from its ponytail. She grabbed the California travel book and tucked it into a big straw bag. We stepped out of the Lincoln as tourists looking to absorb some local flavor.
The lighting inside the restaurant was dim, but we spotted Beidemeyer at the bar to our right. He held a menu in front of him — clearly planning to stay a while. Apparently, his meeting his lady friend in our neighborhood was just a coincidence. It made sense. The food was good, and he wasn't going to run into his country club pals in Sunland.
We sat at a booth in the front dining room with a good view to the bar. The AC was cranked, but the red vinyl stuck to my bare legs, and I wished I'd worn jeans. Zelda faced the bar and I had my back to it. If Beidemeyer was taking a dinner break, so would we — prime rib and an extra basket of the cheesy bread for us.
Alone at the bar, Beidemeyer nursed a beer while we plowed through our bread, salad and three glasses of iced tea. "Maybe she stood him up," Zelda muttered.
I stole a glance at the bar. He didn't look our way. I turned back. "Maybe she's fashionably late." I slid my phone across the table to Zelda. "Time to take some vacation pictures."
I put on a lot of goofy poses while Zelda pretended to photograph me but really got shots of Beidemeyer. When our dinner came, we dug in. Zelda's fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
"What?"
Zelda leaned across the table pretending interest in my dinner selection. "Beidemeyer's got company."
I lowered my voice. "Can you get a shot of her?"
Zelda picked up the phone and said, "Oh come on, just a couple more."
I smiled and struck a few more silly poses, pointing to my dinner and making faces.
Zelda passed me the camera. "Oh these are great! Look."
I scrolled through the shots, nodding. "You're right. They're precious. Mom'll love these."
But Beidemeyer's dinner companion wasn't a woman, he was a man.
Chapter Three
The man with Beidemeyer was mid-thirties, average height but built solidly, like a pro wrestler. Ex-military? I grabbed my cell phone and loudly announced that I needed to visit the ladies room.
Zelda frowned. "What are you doing?"
"I want to get a closer look." I whispered. "And some photos if possible."
Zelda grabbed my wrist. "If you can see him up close, then he can see you up close too."
I pried Zelda's fingers off my wrist. "I'll bet you five bucks he doesn't even look at me." I shot Zelda a goofy smile and said, "Be right back Janie."
To get to the restrooms, I had to walk through the bar, which gave me a perfect opportunity to get a good look at Beidemeyer and his chum. After I passed the two men, I leaned across the bar and greeted the bartender with a big smile. "Could I get a couple of Irish coffees?"
The bartender nodded and started the drinks. I gave him a little finger wave and told him I'd be right back. After five minutes of fooling around with my hair and washing my hands I returned to the bar.
My two Irish coffees waited for me, just where I'd ordered them. "Those are gorgeous! I have to get a picture of this!" I held up my phone and snapped a picture of the drinks, making sure to include Beidemeyer and his friend in the shot. "Excellent."
The bartender offered to take a shot with me and the Irish coffees but I demurred. "Thanks, but I have to get back to my friend. Mind having my waitress add these to my tab?" I slid a five across the bar to him, winked, and carried the Irish coffees back to our booth.
Zelda's eyes lit up at the sight of Irish coffee, and I slid one to her. "Oh good, dessert." She spooned off a glob of whipped cream and put it in her mouth. Sitting down, I passed the phone across the table to her. Scrolling the shots with one thumb she said, "Not bad."
We lingered over our coffees and shared a piece of chocolate cake, but Beidemeyer and his buddy remained huddled at the bar — their food pushed aside and mostly uneaten.
The waitress kept circling and giving us the evil eye because she was hoping to turn the table once more bef
ore closing time. I signaled for the check, paid it with Joe's credit card and said, "Let's go."
Zelda frowned but followed me outside. We got into the Lincoln and changed out of the tourist getups and took out the fancy camera. Since there was no one in the lot, I slipped out of the car with the camera for a few quick shots.
I took a few pictures of Beidemeyer's Beemer, making sure to include the restaurant sign in the shots. Then I returned to the Lincoln and got into the backseat. "I'll get more when they come out." I positioned the camera for a view through the rear windshield, futzed with the focus and waited. "If you get behind the wheel, I can take the pictures while you drive."
Zelda grumbled because she was in the middle of a text with her boyfriend Eric but slid across the seat to the driver’s side. She buzzed the windows down so we wouldn't suffocate and then resumed her texting.
Beidemeyer and his friend exited the building twenty minutes later and walked toward the Beemer. I held the camera up to my eye and watched them through the zoom lens. I couldn't hear what they said but their faces were serious and set. "What the hell is going on with these two?" I took a few shots. “They look like somebody died.”
Zelda mumbled something, but I didn't hear it. After a few minutes, Beidemeyer's companion clapped him on the back and walked quickly to his own car — a beat-up black Firebird. It might’ve been his personal vehicle or a piece of crap from the police motor pool. I figured him for some kind of law enforcement — just the way he moved and carried himself. I took a couple of shots of him and the car but wasn't able to get the plates.
Beidemeyer stood in the lot for a moment and watched his pal drive away. He crooked his arm and checked his watch. Then he got in his car, pulled out of the parking space and turned right toward Hillcrest.
"Okay we're on the move."
Zelda switched on the car, pulled out of the lot, and followed Beidemeyer. The streets were pitch black, thanks to our woeful lack of street lighting. That worked in our favor because we could follow closer, appearing to be just another set of headlights behind him.
Beidemeyer retraced his route, except this time, he pulled into the lot at the park. Zelda drove past, turned onto Foothill, and hooked around the park to Fernwood. She drove slowly until we spotted Beidemeyer by the tennis courts talking to some of our homeless buddies. Mean Mike at the head of the group.
My radar went up. "Another coincidence?"
Zelda drove past the courts and pulled into a spot near the baseball bleachers. We fished oversized sports jerseys, sneakers and ball caps out of our bags, made the change, then quietly slipped out of the car.
The big pines and pepper trees shadowed us well. Even if Beidemeyer looked our way, he wouldn't notice us. But we were stuck with the small camera and our phones again because the fancy number with the zoom lens was too obvious and likely to draw to attention.
Also if we got too close our homeless buddies would recognize us. So we pretended to take an evening speed walk around the park. As we passed the skateboard cage, I snapped a couple of pictures of the group and hoped I got them in the shot.
Too intent on the conversation, the group of men didn't notice us as we passed. We rounded the corner and walked another hundred feet until we were at an angle to the group and concealed in the shadows. "Can you hear anything they're saying?"
Zelda rolled her dark eyes, "Do look like I have bionic ears?"
We snapped a few pictures but I didn't have high hopes of getting anything good.
"Let's sneak around to the parking lot and check out his car."
"Why?"
"I don't know — just on the off chance there's something there?" I looked back to the group of men in time to see Beidemeyer hand something to Mean Mike and lean in. On reflex, I snapped a shot of that. "Hmm, interesting."
Beidemeyer clapped Mike on the back, looked around and then headed toward the parking lot.
"So much for checking out his car."
We double-timed it back to the Lincoln for fear of losing the target. Just as we rounded the curve, Beidemeyer came out of the lot and turned right onto Foothill.
Zelda followed Beidemeyer onto Foothill, and I spotted him stopped at the red light a few cars ahead of us. The light changed and we were on the move again. As we drove, I spotted another familiar figure on the sidewalk. I turned and gaped. "Ted?"
Zelda focused on Beidemeyer. "What about Ted?"
I turned in my seat, craning my neck. "What's he doing out here?"
Zelda turned to look. "Ted's here? Where?"
I backhanded her arm. "Hey, keep your eyes on the road." I jerked a thumb behind us. "Ted was on the sidewalk, next to the park."
Zelda snickered. "Maybe he's looking for you."
"How do you figure? I texted him that we were working for Joe tonight."
Zelda said nothing and followed Beidemeyer back onto the freeway. After a few minutes, it was apparent that he was headed for home. Zelda heaved a sigh. "Can't we just go home?"
I shook my head. "We have to follow him."
"Why? Obviously, he's going home."
I slouched in my seat. "He could be going to his mistress's apartment."
Zelda made a face.
I spread my arms. "If we tell Joe we ditched Beidemeyer because we figured he was going home, he'll lecture us until we’re deaf."
We drove in silence.
My phone buzzed with a text. I checked it and made a face.
"What?" Zelda asked.
I answered the text and put the phone away. "Ted. He wants me to call him when we finish tonight."
Zelda snickered. "At least he wasn't out with another chick."
Zelda loved to tease me about Ted because the relationship was new and I suck at relationships. I puckered my lips. "How do I know that?"
Zelda chuckled. "Because he wants a bootie call, that's how."
I stuck my tongue out at her. "Thanks, that’s a confidence booster. "
As predicted, Beidemeyer went home, and Zelda complained loud and long. We waited for another half hour, then packed it in and headed back. “I told you we should’ve just let him go.”
“Okay, Zee you were right and I was wrong. Happy?" I pointed to an all-night gas station. "Let’s top off the tank and get this boat back to Joe’s."
Still she grumbled all the way back to Joe’s. The lights were on, and I frowned. Joe was waiting for a verbal report. I sighed. "Let’s get in there and get this over with."
Joe sat at his desk, intent on his computer screen.
I put his keys on his desk blotter. "Working late?"
Joe clicked his mouse to stop whatever was doing on the computer and looked up. "Calling it a night so early?" He raised an eyebrow. "Got somewhere to be?"
I sighed and slumped into a chair. "Maybe I do." I wanted to get home, call Ted, and see what he was doing at the park. "Beidemeyer is the one who crapped out early. And there’s not much to tell.”
Zelda went into the kitchen and dug around in the cabinets for something to eat. She came back with a box of cookies. "It was a waste of time. He didn't meet a girlfriend."
Joe sat back and slid his glasses to the top of his head. "Do tell."
In under a minute I told him everything there was to know about Beidemeyer’s activities that night.
Like us, Joe was as puzzled by Beidemeyer's actions. "Maybe he swings both ways?"
I shrugged. "They didn't seem chummy in that way."
Zelda chomped on a cookie. "And they left in separate cars after the restaurant."
I tilted my head at Joe. "You don't think the huddle with the homeless vets is weird?"
Joe shrugged. "I had a lot of street people for CI’s in my day. They see a lot cuz to most folks they’re invisible. Beidemeyer saw an opportunity and took it."
That didn't ring true to me. "But Beidemeyer isn't a P.I. He's some kind of corporate mucky muck. Why stop in a strange park, late at night on impulse? To talk to street people?"
Joe flapped
a hand at me. "Don't get your blood up Scotti. There's lots of reasons he coulda stopped there. From what you're saying, he seems to know the area. If that's the case, then he probably knows those men congregate at the park. Maybe his buddy told him to go there and ask around." He shrugged. "Ain't really suspicious you ask me."
I looked to Zelda to back me up but she barely had her eyes open. "If you'd seen them. Huddling. You might feel differently."
Joe tapped his pen on the legal pad that always sat in front of him on the desk. "Let's have a look at the pictures."
M.urder R.eady to E.at (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 2) Page 2
