by Dan Taylor
Grace says, “Do we have time to watch the footage before the cops arrive?”
“We probably do.” I look at the computer monitor. “But Dean locked the workstation.”
“What should we do now?”
“I suppose all we can do is make a getaway.”
“In the Winnie Pooh?”
I sigh. “Yes, in the Winnie Pooh, Grace.”
19.
GERRY SMOULDERWELL PULLS up to the Greasy Fingers Diner in a cab. There are police cars and a news television crew in the parking lot. Finding out what Jake was doing here might be more difficult than she originally thought.
Before getting out of the cab, she assumes the role of Hayley Toothridge by putting on a velvet shawl and vintage tortoise shell sunglasses. She pays the cab driver and gets out.
This Hayley Toothridge alter ego started out as just a name she wrote in the signing-in book at the squash club. She wrote that so that she could talk to Jake about the gig in Oslo without him canceling her lesson—as Jake and the Agency’s relationship had soured after his nephew and sister had been kidnapped by criminals linked to the Agency. Totally not their fault, but that’s a whole different story.
Now she’s running with the name. She’s even got a certain swagger when she assumes the role. It might do wonders for her sex life.
Anyway, she figures if she’s going to monitor Operation Amnesia—to make sure Jake and the Agency never find out the truth—she could use a handle to keep her name out of it. It’s even proven accidentally effective in sending Jake on a wild-goose chase, if Kevin the squash nerd’s intel’s accurate.
Not long to go now before she can sit down and have a glass of Chardonnay without all this horrible mess ruining the taste in her mouth.
She saunters up to the diner’s entrance. Standing by the door is a uniformed police officer. She can see crumbs from breakfast in his mustache from a few yards away.
“Ma’am, you’ll have to get your breakfast somewhere else this morning. The diner’s a crime scene.”
She nearly asks, Where, from your mustache? But thinks better of it.
A crime scene? This has Jake Hancock written all over it.
“I saw on the news and rushed right over. My brother-in-law eats breakfast here most mornings. I do hope he wasn’t hurt in whatever ghastly business has occurred here.”
“I think that unlikely, ma’am. Only the chef and owner has been hurt.” He shakes his head. “Damn it, I shouldn’t have told you that.”
Officer Loose Lips. Probably new to the force.
Gerry acts shocked. She takes out a lace handkerchief—another Hayley Toothridge prop—and holds it to her mouth. Then she pulls it away and says, “I do hope he wasn’t hurt in the robbery. Did they take anything, the petty thieves?”
“Actually we don’t think it was a robbery, ma’am. But there was an assault.” Officer Loose Lips slaps his forehead. “Damn it. What is wrong with me today?”
“An assault. How ghastly. Well, I’ll be off, then. I need to get in contact with my brother-in-law, Jake Hancock. He was eating breakfast here early this morning, I think.”
Gerry turns and starts walking off. She takes a few strides before Officer Loose Lips says, “Wait a minute, ma’am.”
She turns to face the officer. He pulls out a notepad. “Is he a late-thirties male, small eyes but a boyish, handsome face, no sign of a receding hairline, handlebar mustache?”
“As it happens that fits his description accurately.” She hams up her naivety, her eyes smiling behind her vintage sunglasses. “Is he somehow involved in this terrible incident?”
“We can’t say at this particular time. But I would like you to come and talk to Detective Dukes, the detective in charge of this investigation.”
“Oh well, if I must.”
Officer Loose Lips opens the door to the diner for her. He leads her through to the kitchen. Also with a notepad out, looking quite the part in a beige trench coat—which has the price tag still attached and hanging from the collar—is who she assumes is Detective Dukes. He’s looking at the tiled floor, making exaggerated steps, reenacting something.
A burly man in chef’s whites is watching him. He’s frowning and his arms are crossed. He says, “I already told you what happened, Detective. What the hell you retracing steps for?”
The detective says, “Knowing the exact movements of the perpetrator is key to solving this crime.”
“But I already told you. He knocked me unconscious and then they must’ve dragged me into the walk-in refrigerator. Shouldn’t you be looking for him?”
Detective Dukes shushes him.
Then he notices Gerry and Officer Loose Lips. “What did I tell you, Officer Peoples? Nobody should be contaminating this crime scene.”
Officer Loose Lips, who she now knows is called Officer Peoples, says, “But this appears to be the—mm—sister-in-law of the man in question.”
Detective Dukes looks confused. “The man in question?”
“The man who we think—mm—well, the guy we’re looking for.”
“There’s no need to be shy, Officer Peoples. We’ve already leaked the story to the press.”
“Still, I thought it best.”
Detective Dukes ignores him. To Gerry, he says, “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Hayley Toothridge, Detective.”
“So you know the man in question?”
“Yes, he’s my brother-in-law.”
Officer Peoples starts to say, “I already said that—” but Detective Dukes shushes him. Then he says, “And was your brother-in-law eating breakfast here this morning? Early?”
“I think so. He eats here most mornings.”
The burly chef says, “The man that hit me over the head, I never seen him before. He can’t be him.”
Detective Dukes shushes him too.
Then he says, “And what’s the name of your brother?”
“Jake Hancock.”
The detective thinks a second. Suspiciously, he says, “But you said your name is Toothridge. How can this Hancock be your brother?”
The burly chef rolls his eyes. “Sounds like you’ve cracked the case wide open, Detective.”
Gerry says, “Because he’s my brother-in-law, Detective. We’re not blood-related.”
For a couple seconds, Detective Dukes mulls this over. “So he married into the family or something?”
“What fine detective work, Officer.”
“If you have time, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Why don’t you accompany me to one of the booths over there and we can chat.” Then to the chef, “Can you make us coffee?”
The chef rolls his eyes again. “What do I look like?”
Detective Dukes ignores him and leads the way out of the kitchen and to one of the booths. He indicates for Gerry to sit with an open palm and then sits himself. He takes a couple minutes to read through his notes as they sit in silence.
Finally, he says, “So, brother-in-law, hey? Jake Hancock?”
“That’s right.”
“What can you tell me about your brother-in-law that I don’t already know?”
“It depends on what you already know, Detective.”
“If you don’t mind, Ms. Toothridge, I’ll ask the questions.”
“Of course, Detective.”
“Let me start from the beginning.” He peeks over Gerry’s shoulder and then lowers his voice as he says, “I have some experience with your brother-in-law, Jake Hancock, though I didn’t want Chef over there to know. Six months ago. Seemed like a good guy. Helped us catch some perps wanted for murder. This morning he comes into this diner and, according to Gordon Ramsey over there, he just attacks him out of the blue. No provocation. Now, between you and me, Chef Ramsey is known to the LAPD. Doesn’t exactly give his wife foot rubs on an evening, if you know what I mean. Could be that Chef isn’t telling the whole story. We just want to locate Mr. Hancock for questioning, get this thing cleared up.”
&nb
sp; “I understand, Detective.”
“Now, has Mr. Hancock been in contact with you this morning?”
She thinks a second, thinking about how to play this. “As a matter of fact he has. Said he was driving out of state, taking a vacation.”
“Taking a vacation?” Detective Dukes taps his pen on his chin a few times. “Do you take it to mean he’s getting the hell out of Dodge?”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but yes.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“I asked. But he wouldn’t tell me.”
“Wouldn’t tell you, as in you pressed him for details?”
Gerry thinks a second. “I pressed him. He said it was best I didn’t know.”
“Certainly sounds like he’s fleeing the state to me. Does it to you, Ms. Toothridge?”
“Sounds like it to me.”
“Does he have any family out of state? Any place you can think of that he might be headed?”
“Big Bear, if I had to guess. He rents a cabin out there during the summer. Spends a couple weeks there alone. Says it helps him think. My sister, his wife, it drives her bat-shit crazy that he vacations all by himself.”
“I bet it does, ma’am. I can barely swing an evening with my poker buddies without my wife wanting to bake them all cake. Cake at a poker game…” His voice trails off and he shakes his head. “Anyway, never mind my marital woes, Ms. Toothridge.” Detective Dukes looks through his notepad again, studying it. “Toothridge. Now that’s an interesting name. Don’t think I’ve ever come across a Toothridge before. Where would a name like that come from?”
“Tennessee originally.”
“You don’t have the accent.”
“I don’t see where you’re going with this, Detective. Or what it has to do with my brother-in-law.”
“Just making conversation, is all. Say, how long have your family been living in L.A.?”
“Thirty years, give or take.”
He laughs. “That explains the accent then. Don’t mind my nosing. I ask so many questions it’s become a force of habit.”
“I don’t mind, Detective.”
“No, you’ve been really accommodating. He’s got a good sister-in-law, Hancock, it seems.”
“I try my best. I have some questions of my own, if you don’t mind, Detective.”
“I’m all ears.”
“My brother-in-law, he’s been having a few problems. A few…mental disturbances of late. My sis is real worried about him. You don’t think any of this…? Gee, I don’t want to get him in trouble.”
“I’m getting the impression anything you say would do the opposite. If it helps us locate him.”
“I guess it would. I’ll finish my question then. Do you think this incident could have anything to do with his current mental state? As I said, he’s been having a few mental disturbances. Memory loss. That sort of thing.”
“Do you mean to ask if, when he carried out the alleged attack, he could be deemed as being in some sort of fugue state?”
“Yeah, or if he said anything strange while he was here?”
“According to Chef over there, he didn’t say much. Just attacked him. Guess that could indicate a fugue state, if we’re to take what Chef says as gospel.”
“What’s your opinion on the matter, Detective?”
“I’m no expert, so I couldn’t say. Is there anybody he’s been seeing about these issues? A shrink of some kind?”
“He has. But the name evades me. It might come to me.”
Detective Dukes takes out a card and hands it to her. “If it does, or if anything else comes to mind, or if he contacts you again, give me a call on this number.”
“You can count on it, Detective.”
“You’ve been a real help. Thanks for coming down here.”
“Anything I can do to help.”
Detective Dukes taps his pen on his chin a few times again. “Just so I’m clear, why did you come down to the diner this morning?”
“As I told the officer over there, I came down here after catching the Breaking News segment on the TV, to check if my brother-in-law was okay. I know he eats breakfast here most mornings.”
“Most mornings? That’s a hell of a drive for him, from, where is it he lives again?”
“Boulevard.”
“Boulevard. Right.”
Gerry gets up to leave.
Detective Dukes says, “One more thing, Ms. Toothridge. How do you spell your name?”
Gerry frowns.
“This wasn’t an official statement or nothing. Just interested, is all. Me and my damn questions.”
Gerry spells it for him. “Anything else, Detective?”
At this point the chef and owner of the diner comes over with two coffees. Detective Dukes says, “You’ll have to make one of those to go, Chef.”
The chef puts down one of the coffees on the table and glares at Detective Dukes. Then he turns around, heads back to the kitchen.
“Detective,” Gerry says, nodding, and then heads towards the exit.
“Don’t forget to grab your coffee on the way out, Ms. Toothridge,” he calls over. “They do great coffee here. Well worth the drive.”
20.
“JESUS, GRACE, CAN’T this thing go any faster?” I say.
“It can, but the engine tends to overheat if it does.”
We’re heading…where, exactly? We’re making our getaway but haven’t discussed that. I ask her.
She says, “I thought you knew where we’re going.”
“But I’m not driving, Grace. How could I know?”
“I thought you knew and it was coincidentally the exact route I’m driving.”
Clearly Grace isn’t handling this high-pressure situation well. I try to relax her in the best way I know how. I start singing a nursery rhyme. ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ in this instance.
“Why are you singing that song?” Grace asks.
“Did it work?”
“Did what work? And for what?”
“You were panicking a little. When I babysit for my sister, it works a charm. Every time my six-year-old nephew is freaking out from him having his uncle Jake look after him for the evening, I sing a nursery rhyme.”
“And you thought it appropriate to sing one to me, a twenty-nine-year-old woman?”
“Are you still freaking out?”
“No, but—”
“Then I consider it a job well done.”
“Before you cut me off, I was about to say that I wasn’t freaking out in the first place.”
“You were a little.”
“Was not.”
“Was too.”
We sit in silence ten seconds or so. Then I say, “Arguing isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“Good point. Where should I head?”
“Get off the freeway.”
“Where?”
“The next exit, for Glendale.”
“And then where?”
“Any place where we can dump the Winnebago.”
“Nooo!”
“It has to be done, Grace. I’m sorry.”
“Are you really sorry? Or are you just being polite?”
“I am actually sorry. Like you, I’ve developed an irrational bond with this hunk of metal.”
“I’ll take that as sarcasm.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure Winnie can look after himself awhile.”
She’s sulking a little. “Winnie’s a she.”
“Not in the nineteen-twenty-four classic or in any subsequent versions he isn’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Winnie the Pooh?”
“Who’s that?”
I shake my head. She knows who he is.
“There’s the exit,” I say.
“And what do I do, steer the car so I’m heading towards it?”
Clearly during the last ten seconds or so she hasn’t gotten over our having to dump Winnie Pooh.
It doesn’t take
us long to find a parking lot in Glendale. Grace says, “See you again, Winnie Pooh,” as we leave it, as though it’s breathing its last couple breaths as it fades away from metastatic cancer of the carburetor.
“Where to now?” Grace asks.
It’s a hell of a question. I take a second to get the investigation so far straight in my head. I’ve been a seemingly functioning adult for the last week, seemingly going about my life as was expected, but which I have no memory of. While I worked at a squash club, someone visited me called Hayley Toothridge. Days later I wake up in a motel, not being able to remember the last week. This same person booked the same motel room for a guy called Eric Clark, who also, according the cab driver who picked him up, was complaining of amnesia-like symptoms.
Oh, and I was really close to discovering who this Hayley Toothridge actually is.
Grace interrupts my thoughts. “Jake…?”
“I figure we find a diner in Glendale as we formulate a plan for finding out who this Hayley Toothridge is. We find that out, we blow this case wide open.”
“Wow, I didn’t know investigators actually said stuff like that?”
“What, formulate?”
“No, ‘blow this case wide open.’”
While I’m thinking of a witty retort, I get that burning sensation in my chest again. This time really bad. I go dizzy and start staggering around the parking lot. A million miles away I can hear Grace apologizing for teasing me, and I can vaguely feel her hand on my shoulder, trying to steady me.
Then everything goes black.
21.
DETECTIVE DUKES IS sitting and drinking his coffee. He lied to “Ms. Toothridge.” The coffee tastes like shit. It’s definitely not worth the drive from Hollywood Boulevard. Not with Vine and Dine a stone’s throw away from where Jake Hancock’s apartment building is.
He’s only spoken to Jake Hancock a few times. He exaggerated his acquaintance with him, in his tone if not in his words, just to see her reaction. There wasn’t much of one. But she could just be a good liar.
He thinks about the bullshit she tried to feed him: Concerned sister-in-law glances at Breaking News segment, notices there’s been a possible violent incident at a diner her brother-in-law regularly eats at, and then rushes down to investigate? To check that her brother-in-law is safe and sound? And she doesn’t stick around to watch the rest of the segment to find out the details before making her trip down here? And said brother-in-law eats here regularly, despite being—what?—a good thirty-minute drive away?
