“That’s the short version, yes.”
“Lorena, I have to go.” Skip disconnected the call before she could object and stared across the street at Bruno Panaman’s house. The prints weren’t a surprise; Carli had told him that would happen. What surprised him was how easily he’d fallen into the trap.
He started toward the house, all too aware of the time bomb waiting to explode.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Roxy
THE FOG HAD cleared by the time we left the bagel shop. I’d lived all my life on or near the coast and gray mornings I knew well. This one, however, was different. The bright blue morning sky did nothing to lift my spirits. Though I tried to push aside the darkness clouding my thoughts and shift into planning mode, it became a relentless presence I couldn’t shake.
Traffic on the Coast Highway crawled along, alternately accelerating and slowing for the monotony of red light after red light. There were so many noisy cars I could barely think. I looked at Lily and said, “We need access to a computer. You told me once that the library has some. Is that right?”
“Yeah. I used them all the time when I was on the streets. You can watch videos or play games. I used to check email on them. Everybody does it.”
I smiled. Well, not everybody. Most people who had money and lived in their own homes and had computers probably did what I did and handled those sorts of tasks at home, not on a public computer. However, in Lily’s old world, ‘everybody’ might have been the correct term. “What did you need email for when you were homeless?”
Lily rolled her eyes and shook her head. Obviously, I was clueless. “The same thing as you—to stay in touch.”
“Good to know,” I said. “What do they charge to use them?”
“They’re totally free. You just gotta have a library card. I still have mine, so you can use it. And you need to be there when they open or you might have to wait for a computer. And you can’t use it all the time. There are like limits on how long you can sign up for.”
“Huh,” I said. “Well, I need to move money into my bank account so we can access more cash. For that I need to contact my attorney. We’ll need new IDs and money for transportation and living expenses.”
Lily blinked and stared at me. “Really? Why? You don’t need that much out here.” She gestured with her head at our surroundings.
“We can’t stay here, Lily. There are too many people looking for us and eventually they’ll find us. That means we must leave the area. We’ll travel for a while. We can take Amtrak up to LA, but from there it would be best to fly. We won’t be able to book tickets online because we’ll pay cash, but we can get the schedule for Amtrak while we’re at the library. We’ll be here for a day or two while I arrange for the cash and IDs. Assuming he hasn’t been arrested, I know a guy here in town who can help with the credentials, but he won’t hand them over until he’s paid. We’ll also need some new clothing so we blend in. We both already look like we slept in these clothes.”
“But we did.”
“Exactly,” I said with a smile. “That’s one reason the lady we met on our way out of the apartment looked at us so closely.”
“I thought she was like looking at that stupid bedspread.”
“Good point,” I said. “The key to being invisible is to blend in. So from now on, we can’t do anything to draw attention to ourselves. Does that make sense?”
Lily nodded. “So where are we gonna go?”
“I don’t have that figured out yet, but if you want to make a suggestion, go for it.”
“I think it would be awesome to visit Disney World.”
I stopped, nodded, and smiled. Wasn’t that just like a kid? In the midst of chaos, they found ways to survive. “You know what? We should add that to our list of things to do. What time does the library open?”
“Ten. We should‘ve stayed in the bagel shop longer. We got nothing to do until they open. Since you got things that are gonna take time, we should totally be at the library when they open.”
“We can get there a few minutes early, but we need to keep moving. I’m sorry, Lily, but I don’t think we can stay in any single place for long. Let’s go down along The Strand and walk. I doubt if anybody will search for us there.”
The walk to The Strand, a one-way street running parallel to the shore and lined with vacation rentals, took only a few minutes. It never ceased to amaze me how many people hung out down here. From the runners and walkers to tourists taking in the atmosphere, The Strand never seemed bound by the limits of weather or time of day. It was a people magnet, which meant it wasn’t a place our pursuers would go. We were walking north when a gust coming off the ocean sent shivers through me. Lily looked up and reached for the zipper on Skip’s jacket.
“Here, you take this. You’re cold.”
“No. You keep it. I’ll be fine. We’ll find a place to get something hot to drink when we head back toward town.”
Lily grimaced, but nodded and shrugged back into the jacket. “I still got chills from that room they kept me in. It was super cold in there.”
I stopped, bent down, and gave her a hug. “I can’t get over how strong you are. Come on, let’s keep walking. We’re definitely finding warmer clothes when the stores open.”
When we reached Surfrider, the ocean breeze had me chilled to the bone. I could no longer take it and needed that hot drink, so we turned right and headed back to town. We found a small coffee shop near the theater. The shop was deserted except for an overly friendly clerk who left us alone once we disengaged and settled in at a table in the back. I ordered a hot tea; Lily chose hot chocolate. As we sat and sipped our drinks, the chill in my bones gradually subsided.
I kept a constant watch on the front windows. There were few passersby at this hour, but my blood chilled when an elderly man appeared on the sidewalk and shuffled through the front door. It was P.T. Richards. What was he doing here?
“Lily,” I whispered. “Don’t be too obvious, but check out the man who just walked in.”
She turned, glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at me. “The old guy? What about him?”
“He’s friends with the brother of one of the guys who was with Mateo Carli. The minute he starts his order, we have to get out of here.”
“Okay.” She nodded, downed the last of her hot chocolate, and turned sideways in her seat.
Richards shuffled up to the counter, and the clerk greeted him by name. “What’ll it be today, P.T.? The usual?”
“I think so, Bobby. And one of your cinnamon rolls. My sweet tooth is demanding attention today.”
Lily and I stood and made our way toward the front door. I made it a point of ignoring the clerk and keeping my gaze fixed directly forward. We were almost to the door when the clerk called out to us.
“Goodbye, ma’am! You two have a great day.”
“You, too,” Lily said.
“Lily,” I hissed, but kept my gaze averted.
“Miss Tanner?”
The chill I’d felt when he first walked in returned. Escape would only draw more attention to us, but if we did this subtly, Richards might forget to tell Rudy and Mateo he’d seen us. I stopped and faced him.
“Mr. Richards? I didn’t realize that was you.”
He smiled and inched closer, bending over to peer at Lily. “What a lovely young lady.”
I laid a protective hand on Lily’s shoulder.
“I mean no harm, Miss Tanner.”
“We should get home, Mr. Richards. Please excuse us.”
I tried to guide Lily toward the door, but Richards stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“I gather you were successful in your venture?”
Without thinking, I glanced down at Lily. “Yes, we were successful.”
“We? Who helped you? The man you were with last night?”
Damn. I really was slipping. Even a year ago I never would have made such a stupid mistake. “A figure of speech. Now, we really must be going. Li
ly’s late for school.”
“You do not look like you are taking her to school, Miss Tanner.” He held out his hand to Lily. “My name is Mr. Richards. What is yours, Miss?”
“I’m Lily.” She held out her hand, every bit the consummate young lady. “What’s wrong with your hand?”
He looked down and recognition flickered on his face. “It is a tremor. Unfortunately, it now prevents me from doing what I love, which is creating art.”
“Mr. Richards, it’s past time for us to leave.”
“Miss Tanner, I bear you no ill will. I heard what Mateo tried to do last night. Let me assure you, he will not hear from me that your are still in this neighborhood.”
No matter what he said, I had no reason to trust this man. When I’d needed his help, all he’d done was waste my time. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“What kind of art?” Lily asked.
His face lit up. “All kinds. I own a house filled with paintings and other artwork. Would you like to see it?”
“No,” I snapped. There was no way I was letting Lily into a stranger’s home. I pulled her back from Richards and wrapped my arms around her shoulders.
Richards shook his head and grimaced. “I am sorry. I momentarily forgot what you went through last night. It was an innocent invitation, but most ill-timed.” He looked into my eyes and sighed. “Miss Tanner, I think you should see my collection. There is one piece in particular you will find of great interest.”
“No, Mr. Richards, we had our conversation last night. You weren’t able to help me. Now, if you’ll excuse us. And please, don’t tell anyone you saw us.”
“Miss Tanner, after you left Rudy’s place last night. I felt immense regret. I should have revealed the truth about the piece we were discussing at the time.”
I shook my head. “You said what you had to say. I no longer care about that piece of artwork.”
“No? I think you are mistaken.” He paused, nodded to himself, then added, “Yes, I definitely should have told you before. You see, there is another.”
“Another what?”
He looked over his shoulder before continuing. When he did, I was forced to lean forward to hear his whisper.
“There is another copy of The Last Warhol.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Skip
SKIP STOOD AT the front door, the ‘what-if’ scenarios playing out in his mind. Ideally, he had no need for drones or spy craft to deal with Bruno. His mission was to act as an emissary and initiate a truce, not to intimidate him. On the other hand, walking into a situation blind when you could easily gather intelligence was not a wise move.
“Baldorf, what’s going on in the kitchen? Does our bug tell you anything?”
“Let me check, bro.” A moment later, Baldorf said, “Hate to tell you this, but it’s dead.”
“What do you mean, dead? Did someone find it?”
“Don’t know. Could just be the battery.”
“Or it’s the universe’s way of telling me what’s best. I’m sorry, buddy, but if this goes bad, I don’t want you being dragged into it. I’m cutting you off.” Skip tapped the earpiece to turn it off, pulled it out of his ear, and placed it in his pocket. He knocked and waited.
The neighborhood was quiet with only a gentle breeze drifting in off the ocean. The sound of an opera played inside the Panaman house. After a few moments with no answer, Skip rang the bell. The music inside stopped and was followed by the sounds of someone fiddling with a deadbolt.
The man who opened the door looked unlike any version of Bruno Panaman Skip had seen before. He wore an old T-shirt and baggy jeans and his normally slicked-back hair was disheveled. His eyes were glazed over, and in his hand he held a glass filled with ice cubes and a small amount of amber liquid.
“What do you want?” Bruno slurred his words as he spoke. “Are you here to gloat over the death of my son?”
“No. I’m here to express my condolences.” Skip kept his tone steady. “Would you mind if I came in? Perhaps we could talk.”
The man before Skip snorted, then drank the last of the liquid in his glass. “You? Want to console me? I can only think of one reason you would want to do such a thing—so you can revel later in my sorrow. But, come in. Come in. I need more Scotch to tolerate your contrived apology.” He turned and walked away, leaving Skip in the open doorway.
Skip waited only a moment before entering. This entire thing felt wrong. He hadn’t planned on Bruno being drunk. Angry? Of course. But combining anger with alcohol was a bad combination—and possibly a dangerous one. He hurried through the living room toward the kitchen and found Bruno filling his glass.
Bruno raised the glass to his lips. “You and Miss Tanner must be very pleased with yourselves.” He gave Skip a curt nod. “Congratulations. You have bested my family on all counts.”
“For us, this was never a contest,” Skip said.
“Oh? Then why did Miss Tanner come to my home and offer me the opportunity to ‘invest’ with her? I think you do not know much at all, Mr. Cosgrove. Not much at all.”
“That was a long time ago. Roxy has changed. She’s trying to put her past behind her and live a normal life.”
“Ah, the rehabilitation of a criminal. I should drink to that as well.” He raised his glass and sipped.
“Alcohol’s not the answer,” Skip said. “Maybe you should talk to someone. I know several good grief counselors.”
“And why would you, the sworn enemy of my son, worry about my mental state? I am a broken man, Mr. Cosgrove. My wife divorced me years ago; my son has died before me; what have I left? Tell me, do you know how my son died? The police will not say.”
Skip nodded. “Someone shot him, but the police are still investigating.”
Bruno stared at his glass as he rotated it in small circles. “How many times was he shot?”
Why did people always have such a morose fascination with these types of details? Skip had seen it all too many times, but if he were in Bruno’s shoes, he’d probably be asking the same questions. “Three,” he whispered.
“Well,” Bruno smirked and looked directly at Skip. “As I said before, the two of you must be pleased with your success.”
“I did not shoot your son,” Skip said earnestly. “And I have never found pleasure in the death of another human being. Let me call someone for you. If you don’t want to use a counselor I know, we can find you someone else.”
“You are overeager to see to my well-being, Mr. Cosgrove. Perhaps it is because you harbor guilt over my loss. Or have you come here to kill me? To end your problems once and for all?”
“I’ve come here unarmed. I’m hoping that, given everything we’ve all been through, we might be able to leave the past behind.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Your Miss Tanner absolved of all her misdeeds. What a lovely ending that would be for you. The problem is, Mr. Cosgrove, your Miss Tanner has brought this family nothing but trouble.”
Skip sighed. Why was he trying to negotiate with a drunken man? This had been a mistake. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll see myself out.”
“Is that what you think, Mr. Cosgrove?” Bruno exploded. “That you can just leave?”
“What I think is that you’re a man who has just lost his son and needs counseling. I also believe my coming here has upset you further. For that, I apologize.”
Bruno swayed on his feet. Glassy-eyed, he clutched the nearly empty glass. “Apologize?” he snorted. “You think an apology can assuage my pain? No, Mr. Cosgrove, I want more. Much more. You and Miss Tanner will pay for what you have done to this family!” He drained the glass, swallowing the amber liquid in a single gulp, and glared at Skip.
“I’m losing my patience with you, Bruno. Is this the alcohol talking? Is that why you’re so bold today? The last time I was here you were afraid of dying. You begged me to not kill you. Now, you use alcohol to find strength and make threats.”
“My son i
s dead because of you!”
“No. He’s dead because he kidnapped a little girl and opened old wounds. Now you have the nerve to blame his death on the victims? If you come after us, you will be starting a war. Leave us alone.”
Skip backed away. It would be so easy to strike the old man down—perhaps, even kill him. He had to leave now or risk sliding down that slope into a life of regret.
“Stay away from us.” Skip wagged a finger at Bruno, then turned and walked toward the front door.
“You will not walk away from me!” Bruno thundered.
Skip stopped at the sound of the slide clicking on a semi-automatic. His heart pounded in his chest. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath to steady himself.
“Are you going to shoot me in the back? How will you explain that to the police? You’ll hardly be able to say I was threatening you.”
“You entered my home to intimidate me. I shall have satisfaction!”
Skip kept his hands in the air and turned to face Bruno. “If it’s satisfaction you want, why don’t you use the gun on yourself? You’re the one who failed your son. He never learned how to be a man of principle. As much as we might disagree about who killed your son, I think we can agree he is dead because people hated him, and perhaps you, enough to kill. While you’re assigning blame, why don’t you look in the mirror? It was probably your old friend Mateo Carli who pulled the trigger.”
Before him, Bruno wavered. The gun drifted from side-to-side and his lower lip quivered.
Skip held Bruno’s gaze defiantly, but spoke with a soft tone. “I pity you and your failures. But in some ways, I almost hope you pull that trigger. Then you’ll spend the rest of your days in a prison cell with only your self-recrimination as a companion.” Skip’s legs felt like cement, but he did an about-face, closed his eyes, and took the first step, expecting the crack of a gun and the searing heat of a bullet.
When neither came, he took another step.
The closer he got to the front door, the more his confidence grew. For, while Bruno might be drunk, no matter how much liquor he’d had he understood the police would view shooting an unarmed man in the back as he was leaving your house as murder. It wasn’t until he sat in his car that Skip let loose the rush of memories trying to push through to the present. He sat in the front seat for several minutes, unable to move, his fingers shaking as he recalled the last time he’d been shot.
Shadows from the Past Page 21
