Y Is for Yesterday

by Sue Grafton

  36

  IRIS AND JOEY

  Friday, October 6, 1989

  Joey, barefoot and in his robe, brought in the morning paper and tossed it on the counter between the kitchen and the living room. He continued into the bedroom, where he’d strip and take his shower. In the kitchen, Iris poured a cup of coffee as the toaster popped up. She put the toast on a plate, buttered it, and carried it to the table, snagging the folded newspaper before she sat down. She opened the Dispatch, took one look at the front page, and screamed. She jumped up, the chair tipping dangerously before it righted itself.

  “Joey! Oh my god, oh my god!”

  Joey appeared in the doorway in his boxer shorts. He was accustomed to her hysteria and wouldn’t address the shrieking until he knew what she was going on about. “What?” He knew he sounded faintly annoyed.

  She pointed at the paper.

  “What!”

  “Fritz is dead. Look at this. He was found yesterday up at Yellowweed. He was shot to death.”

  Joey said, “That can’t be.”

  Her hand shook as she held out the paper. He sat down and scanned the article, then opened the front section to the continued coverage on an inside page.

  Joey said, “Jesus. This is terrible. Wonder what happened?”

  “We’re screwed. This is the end of us. Oh my god,” she said. She sank into a chair, white-faced. She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “What do we do now?”

  Joey said, “Hang on a sec.”

  He read the article again carefully. “This is bad. Poor guy.”

  “Should we turn ourselves in?”

  Joey frowned. “What for? We didn’t kill him.”

  “But what if they pick up on the blackmail and trace it back to us?”

  “Why would it occur to anyone to look at us? He’s a pal. We’re his best buds. How’re they going to trace anything?”

  “I don’t know, but suppose they do. Maybe it’s better to go to them before they come to us. If they link us to the blackmail, we’ll be prime suspects. The only suspects.”

  “Calm down. Just settle down and let’s take a look at this. Sure, we knew about the blackmail. Fritz told everyone, so that in itself wouldn’t be significant.”

  “They have the message you left. That’s your voice on the machine.”

  “They don’t know that. It could be anyone. Austin, for instance.”

  “What if they trace the call?”

  “They can’t trace a call from a recording,” he said, though he was not at all sure of it. Technology was a wonder these days. No telling what forensics could do.

  Iris leaned forward and hung her head between her knees as though she might pass out. “It’s over. We’ve had it. If we don’t go to them and they figure it out, how’s it going to look? Like we’re guilty of murder!”

  “But we’re not. We didn’t do anything. Paper says he’s probably been dead for close to a week and we were nowhere near Yellowweed. We don’t even own a gun, so how could it be us?”

  “He called us at home. Remember?”

  “But we didn’t see him. We didn’t connect up with him. We ate dinner at my stepmom’s. She can vouch for us.”

  “What if they pull phone records? How are you going to explain his call?”

  “We don’t deny the call. I’ll tell ’em how it went. He said he was going to meet the guy and wanted us to come along—”

  “Why would he ask us?”

  “He was nervous. He needed moral support. We told him not to do it and he got pissed off. That’s all it is. That’s as much as we know. We advised against it. We told him not to do it. We had no idea he’d actually meet the guy. Right?”

  Her mouth trembled and her faced tightened into an unbecoming mask.

  Joey put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, babe. It’s okay. Don’t go all wonky on me.”

  He hunkered down beside her and rubbed her back, offering consolation, which he knew was falling on deaf ears. “Hey. Look at me.”

  He waited until she managed to get control of herself. She breathed deeply. She patted herself on the chest and looked at him.

  Joey snagged a tissue from the box on the end table and held it out. She took it gratefully and blew her nose.

  Joey went on. “We didn’t do anything. We’re in this together. We didn’t know he was dead until this morning’s paper. Isn’t that the truth?”

  She nodded.

  “We go to them and then what? They don’t have any reason to think we’re involved. There’s nothing that ties us to Yellowweed. Margaret will vouch for us and it’s the truth. If we admit to the blackmail, all we’ve done is expose ourselves to scrutiny.”

  He studied her face, which had the haunted look of the doomed.

  Iris finally nodded, calmer but still anxious. She twisted the soggy tissue in her hands. “What if they figure it out?”

  “What if they don’t?”

  “How is it going to look if they find out we sent the note and the tape? What if you left fingerprints—”

  “I didn’t. I was too smart for that,” he said. “Anyway, if we have to, we’ll admit that much and say we didn’t follow up. We dropped the whole thing because we knew we’d made a mistake. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  She shook her head mutely, imagining hideous possibilities that she didn’t dare verbalize.

  “The worst is if we pipe up and confess, which would make it look like we’re guilty when we’re not. We backed away. Remember that? Okay, so we’re guilty of threats, but that’s not against the law. Well, it is against the law, but shit. We didn’t kill anyone. You gotta trust me. You trust me?”

  Iris nodded, miserable.

  Joey placed his hands over hers. “Here’s the deal. We go about our business like nothing’s wrong. Anybody asks us, we read about it in the paper, and of course we’re devastated. He’s a friend of ours and we feel terrible, but that’s all.”

  “I don’t want to go to work. I can call in sick—”

  “No. Out of the question. That would not look good.”

  “I can tell Karen I’m upset because my friend was killed. She’d understand.”

  Joey shook his head. “We do what we always do. Business as usual and it’s nothing to worry about. We’ll see how the day plays out and we’ll talk about it again tonight. Can you manage that?”

  Iris nodded, her eyes pinned on his like a pup in obedience training.

  • • •

  Joey dropped her off downtown and she opened the shop. She put her purse under the counter and turned to the mirror on the wall behind her, leaning close so she could assess her reflection. She looked bad: no makeup, her eyes swollen from weeping, her hair straying out of the combs she wore. She paused to rearrange two combs and a barrette, which helped a bit. She sniffed. She took a big breath and let it out, emitting a soft sound . . . leftover grief, not for Fritz but for the trouble they were in. How could the authorities find out? She and Joey hadn’t done anything. Okay, a note demanding money, which for all anyone knew could have been a joke.

  She heard the bell jingle over the front door.

  The man who entered was in his late fifties. He wore a dark sport coat with a red polo shirt under it. He looked like an aging athlete . . . tennis or golf . . . because the outdoor activity had tanned his skin to a warm brown. Receding hairline, his forehead speckled with irregular spots of sun damage. The fringe of gray hair that remained was cut close. He reminded her of her Uncle Jerry, same age, same build. She was her uncle’s favorite.

  He let his gaze travel around the store, taking in the racks of vintage clothing, the glass showcases filled with additional merchandise. She knew the air in the shop had a distinct scent to it. He wandered in her direction, in no particular hurry. When he was close enough, she saw that his dark lashes were so long it l
ooked like he’d bought them at a drugstore and glued them into place. His lips were thin and formed a wavy line that suggested he was capable of smiling though she saw no other evidence of it. Maybe he was buying something for his wife. She checked his left hand. No wedding ring, but old guys didn’t always wear them.

  “May I help you?”

  “You’re Iris Lehmann?”

  She thought, Shit, not this again. Instantly, her smile became flat and fake, which she hoped wasn’t obvious.

  He removed a leather case and exhibited his badge: a star with seven points and a circle in the center. A banner read “Lieutenant” with “Deputy Sheriff’ on the top half of the curve and “Santa Teresa County” on the lower half. There was some sort of raised image in the center, but he tucked it away before she could determine what it was. He said, “Detective Burgess. County sheriff’s office.”

  Her stomach sank. If he was here to ask about Fritz, the blackmail scheme was bound to come up. Her mind went blank. Her lips felt like they were stuck together. How would she react if she had no direct knowledge?

  “May I help you?”

  She winced. She’d just asked the same inane question.

  “Hope so. We’re contacting friends of Fritz McCabe . . .”

  “I read about him in the paper. It’s horrible what happened. I was shocked.”

  “Sad to lose someone so young,” he said. “I can imagine what you must be feeling.” He watched her as though he imagined many other things as well, none of them favorable to her. She realized he’d taken out a pocket-size spiral-bound notebook. She watched him flip to the first blank page. “We’re trying to piece together his actions in the days before his death. Do you remember the last contact you had with him?”

  “Well, mm, let’s see . . .” She looked up as though trying to recall their last conversation. “I believe we spoke to him last week. By phone. We didn’t see him. This is my fiancé and me. We live together so when Fritz called, Joey talked to him.”

  “What day was that?”

  Iris shook her head in the negative and then decided it would be more realistic if she added a detail. “I’d say Wednesday or Thursday. Toward the end of the week. I don’t think it was Friday Joey took the call.”

  “You have any idea what they talked about?”

  “I don’t. Maybe you could ask Joey. Or I can ask and get back to you.”

  “He didn’t fill you in on the subject of the conversation?”

  “I had to get to work so there wasn’t time.”

  He flipped back a page or two as though to refresh his memory. “You know about the blackmail business,” he said, stating it as a given.

  She hesitated. “I knew a little bit about it, but not a lot. I mean, not the details.”

  His frown was barely perceptible. “I was under the impression Fritz broadcast the information to all his friends. I’m surprised he’d leave you out.”

  “No, no. He told us, but then he made us all swear we’d keep it to ourselves. I don’t think I should talk about it, out of respect for him.”

  His smile seemed thin. “I appreciate your discretion and I’m sure he would, too.” There was a pause. She thought he’d finished speaking. Then he said, “On the other hand, with him gone, those same restraints wouldn’t apply, would they? Especially when the facts might shed light on his death. If you think I’m out of line, just say so. I don’t want you to talk about this if you’re uncomfortable.”

  “Why would I be uncomfortable?”

  “I don’t know, Iris. You tell me.”

  “I’m fine. This is fine. Go ahead.”

  “You mentioned Friday. Can you tell me how you spent the day?”

  She blinked. “I don’t remember. I probably came to work as usual. We must have done something, but I can’t recall. I could ask Joey. Really, I don’t know about any of this. I wish I could be helpful, but I can’t think of anything.”

  “What about Friday night?”

  Iris shook her head. “Sorry, I’m drawing a complete blank.”

  “I understand you spotted Austin Brown a couple of times last week. Why don’t you start with that?”

  Iris wasn’t prepared for the change of subject, but she could see the pit she was digging for herself. The Austin sightings were pure fabrication. “I’m not sure it was him. I can’t swear. I don’t want to be quoted in case I made a mistake.”

  “What about the blackmail scheme? How much were you told?”

  Back to that again.

  “Not much.” She licked her lips. Her mind went blank again. Obviously, she and Joey knew far more about the blackmail scheme than anyone else. So how much knowledge would seem reasonable for an innocent bystander?

  “Take your time,” he said.

  She cleared her throat. “We knew a copy of a tape was sent to the McCabes along with the note. Fritz told us that.”

  He shook his head, his smile weary. “The infamous tape. Creeps into the conversation everywhere you turn and why is that?” The question sounded rhetorical, but he was looking at her as though he expected a reply.

  “No idea. Really.”

  He made a note. “But you did know the tape was the leverage in the extortion scheme.”

  “Everyone knew that.”

  “What do you think made the tape so dangerous that someone would be willing to pay thousands to keep it away from the police?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I never saw it.”

  Mistake, mistake. Of course she’d seen it. The minute Joey found it behind the vent cover that shielded the heater opening in the boys’ bathroom at Margaret’s house. She’d seen it six times if she remembered correctly. There she was, lolling about big as life, naked with her tits splayed flat, completely out of it, and sloppy drunk while Fritz and company assaulted her with whatever came to hand.

  “Not a problem,” he said mildly. “We’ll be screening it later. The chief might hold it for the squad meeting first thing tomorrow morning. Fritz didn’t tell you anything about the subject matter?” He watched her, his pen poised.

  She flicked a look to his notebook, trying to see what he’d written so far.

  How could she answer a question about subject matter? She couldn’t claim ignorance when he’d be seeing it himself. The notion of him watching Troy go at her, his back turned to the camera, buttocks squeezing together every time he thrust himself into her. Jesus. And Fritz standing by, twisting his imaginary mustache while he held up the can of Crisco? How many officers would be sitting there? Why not rent out a theater and charge admission?

  She felt her cheeks flame. He’d been there three minutes and he’d already backed her into a corner. She’d never been so frightened in her life. She knew how these things went. You said one thing and you couldn’t go back later and say something else. Contradict yourself and everyone assumed you were lying. “Do I have to answer questions like that without an attorney present?”

  His brown gaze settled on her squarely. Now she had his full attention. So much like her Uncle Jerry. This man had the same gentle air about him, except now he sounded puzzled and disappointed. “Why would you need an attorney? This is a preliminary chat. Information gathering. We can halt the conversation right here if you think the implications would be damaging. Something going on I don’t know about?”

  “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  He closed his notebook and slipped it into his pocket. He took out a business card and handed it to her. “How about I’ll catch up with you later? Call me if you change your mind. I appreciate your time. You take care.”

  As soon as the door closed behind him, she picked up the phone and punched in Joey’s number at the construction trailer. The secretary picked up and said he was out on a job site and wouldn’t be back until noon. Iris left a message for him to call her and then she burst into tears. This was only
going to get worse. What the hell would happen to them?

  37

  THE EXECUTION

  June 1979

  Trudging up the mountain path in the dark, Fritz felt sick, wondering how the situation had spiraled so far out of control. Somehow he was caught up in the thick of it when the quarrel wasn’t even his. If Austin had a bone to pick with Sloan, how had the rest of them been sucked in? Austin already thought Fritz was an idiot and the judgment made him act like one. It was like his mom telling him what a bad driver he was. The minute she got in the car with him, he’d do something stupid, like back into a garbage can. She didn’t have to say a word. From that moment on, he’d catch a tire on the curb going around a corner or he’d be looking somewhere else when the stoplight turned yellow and she’d gasp, brace herself on the dashboard, and point at the oncoming car he was unaware of.

  Troy had been smart enough to go on strike. He’d driven them as far as the trailhead and then refused to accompany them further. Fritz wasn’t crazy about the expedition himself, but it was probably too late to protest. Even if he had the courage, what was he going to say? Austin would never let him off the hook. At the party, Fritz had tossed down five glasses of pink punch and two of green and had barfed it all back up while pretending to go outdoors to take a leak. Now his head was pounding and if he weren’t so afraid he’d make a fool of himself, he’d hike back down to the road. He and Troy could ditch the others while Austin did whatever he did. It would doubtless entail humiliation of some kind for any fool unlucky enough to be present. Fritz would have given anything to be able to stretch out in the truck bed and put his jacket over his head, but it was easier to keep on walking, looking for the perfect moment to stand up for himself. Right. Like that was going to happen.

  He could hear the others scrambling up the trail behind him. Austin carried a flashlight, but its primary purpose was to guide his own passage, leaving the three of them to cuss and complain. The uneven path was little-used, with fallen branches snapping underfoot. He focused on the irregular terrain, working hard to maintain his balance. He wasn’t in good shape, so he was panting heavily and he’d broken a sweat.