by David Chill
The morning drive down to Irvine was smooth, although the 405 traffic headed in the opposite direction, going into West L.A., was, as usual, snarled. It is a very pleasant experience to be coasting along effortlessly on the freeway and seeing the other side inching along at a snail’s pace. The joys of a reverse commute. I stopped at a Starbucks about ten minutes north of Irvine, and was able to spend more time nursing a grande dark roast than it took me to drive down.
Lester and Debbie Groh were in their late seventies, retirees who likely lived in the same house for the past forty years. It was a house I had been to before. It was nice but not showy, tucked away inside of a cul-de-sac, in a tract where all of the houses looked pretty much the same. The City of Irvine was one of those planned communities that sprang up in many suburbs, where the styles of the home were determined by the developer, and any changes, even the paint color of the exterior, needed to be petitioned and then approved by a local board. This ensured no one’s home would stand out, and for people who liked total conformity, this was as good as it got.
Lester answered the door about three seconds after I rang the bell. I told him I’d be there at ten o’clock sharp, and he was ready. The gaunt look on his face told me he had been through a lot recently.
“Mr. Burnside,” he said hoarsely. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you,” I said, shaking his hand and walking inside. “I guess you remember me and Johnny Cleary visiting you folks years ago when Cody was at Mater Dei.”
“Indeed. That was a happy day for us. I met my wife at SC, a long, long time ago. They had just hired a new coach named John McKay. No one knew anything about him at the time, but that sure worked out okay. Our kids all went to SC. So Cody getting a scholarship there was just perfect.”
“Appreciate your saying that. Cody’s a great kid,” I said, wondering how much the grandfather knew about the recent events. “But I’m very sorry to hear about your granddaughter.”
He took a breath. “We still have hope,” he said, “but it does not look good for her.”
I followed him into the kitchen, where he offered me a cup of coffee. I accepted. For me, there is no such thing as too much caffeine. He poured some into a Disneyland mug and placed it down on the kitchen table. I sat.
“Cream and sugar?” he asked
“No, thanks. I take it black.”
He poured himself a cup, stirred some cream in, and sat down across from me. “I’m sorry my wife won’t be able to join us. She’s still asleep, been up until four-thirty last night. She’s taking this awful hard.”
“I can only imagine what you’re going through,” I said. Lester himself looked a little weary, his craggy face included bags under his eyes.
“Yes. We saw Kristy almost every weekend when she was growing up. At least until she became a teenager and developed a mind of her own.“
“Can you tell me a little about her? Everyone says she’s whip-smart, but maybe not so easy to get along with.”
Lester Groh nodded sadly. “Both are true. She graduated top of her class and had the grades to go anywhere. She probably could have gotten into Stanford if she hadn’t botched her interview. She doesn’t always come across so good. Although I’m not sure how we’d have paid for it, paying full freight for a private university is extraordinarily expensive these days. We might have been able to swing something at SC, her being a legacy and all, but she didn’t want to follow in anyone’s footsteps. At UCLA, she got a Chancellor’s scholarship, so, well, having a Bruin in the family was softened by her getting a free ride.”
“How about her social life? Friends, boyfriends …?”
“Not much of either. She’s a pretty girl, boys are always attracted to her, but, well, most didn’t get very far. We used to think she was just selective, but there’s picky and then there’s something else.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Was she attracted to girls?”
“No, no,” he said with a wave of his hand, “it wasn’t anything like that. She just didn’t make friends with many people. And the ones she did make were kind of like her, the type who didn’t make many friends, either. Outcasts, in a way. We tried to tell her, pick your friends, don’t let them pick you. Maybe she did, but she made bad choices, I don’t know.”
“How much contact did you have with her recently? She tell you anything that might give some insight into what happened at San Pedro?”
“Not really. But I sensed a lot of tension between her and Cody. I imagined it was just stuff happening at the office. Not surprised it wasn’t going great.”
“How’s that?” I asked, taking a sip of coffee. It wasn’t Starbucks, but it wasn’t bad.
“Cody and Kristy have always had an uneasy relationship. It’s a little more involved than your usual sibling rivalry. It wasn’t just that they were different types of people. Lot of complications, and that jet crash, well, I don’t think either of them fully recovered from that. I know I didn’t, and neither did my wife. We never will; losing a child is not something any parent moves on from. You would have thought Cody and Kristy might have become closer after losing their parents. But it maybe just wedged them apart even more.”
“I understand losing their parents could have a dramatic effect on them,” I said, trying to figure out the psychology of this family. “But why was it more complicated than a normal sibling rivalry?”
“You don’t know?” he peered at me.
“I don’t.”
Lester stirred his coffee some more, looking down into it as if to find a good way to respond. “My son Gordon and his wife Gerri, they had been trying to have a child for years. They met at SC too, got married a week after graduation. After a number of years went by, and oh-so-many tests that proved inconclusive, they decided to adopt. They got Kristy.”
“I see. How old was she when they adopted?” I asked, not entirely sure where this was going.
“She was a few months old. It was a single mother, early twenties, thought she could handle being a parent, turns out she couldn’t. Probably for the best. Some people are just not meant to be parents. For others, the timing isn’t right.”
“I assume your son and his wife welcomed Kristy with open arms.”
“Of course,” he agreed, sipping some coffee. “But then the strangest thing happened. A few years later, Gerri gets pregnant. Unplanned but not unwanted. They had been thinking about adopting a second child so Kristy would have a sibling. Turns out they got her one. It also turns out, this sort of thing happens more often than you might think.”
“Is that right?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Their doctor said this was not uncommon. The reason they couldn’t conceive in the first place was probably because they were all stressed about it. It’s funny how much of your life can be impacted by stress. After they adopted Kristy, though, they began to relax, and nature does what nature does.”
“Okay. So how did Cody and Kristy get along growing up?”
“Now that’s where things got a little sticky,” he sighed. “As the oldest, Kristy was showered with heaps of attention. But when Cody came along, she had to share mom and dad, and the grandparents, too. We loved both of them, and we always tried to treat them equally. But I don’t know. Maybe there was an unconscious tendency to favor Cody. Flesh and blood, and all that. We didn’t intend it, we may not have even known we were showing favoritism, but those sorts of things can happen, you know.”
“I see.”
“Do you have siblings, Mr. Burnside?”
“No,” I sighed. “I was an only child. And my wife and I have one son. He’s five. We haven’t talked about having another.”
“Children are a blessing,” he said quietly. “But they can be a lot of work, and each child, well, they all have a different constitution. Even if they share DNA. But the fact that Cody and Kristy are brother and sister by law and not blood did seem to have an impact on their relationship. Probably can’t prove it academically, but I know it’s there.”
“This is interesting. Please continue,” I said. Listening to him started to get me thinking about visiting Gail’s parents again in Arizona. My own parents obviously weren’t around, but I started to see value in the wisdom of grandparents, and I realized Marcus should be spending more time with them.
“I don’t figure Gordon and Gerri intentionally favored Cody over Kristy, but well, that’s kind of how it worked out. Cody was an athlete, and they seemed to spend most of their nights and weekends traveling around with him on AAU teams, to track meets, you name it. Their house was filled with photos of Cody winning races, competing. Sure there were some of Kristy, but it didn’t take long to see who they took pride in. Again, didn’t seem like they even realized they were neglecting her. But she certainly realized it. Her teenage years were difficult, and I don’t know that she ever quite came out of that. Then … the plane crash. Kristy was a freshman in college by that point, and she never got to work it out with them. It all ended unresolved for her.”
“So, how did Cody feel about her?”
“Well, Cody was the star of the family, and he knew it. Everything revolved around him. I admit my kids probably doted on him too much, and that gave him a sense of entitlement. He brought Kristy into that company he started because he knew she was smart, and he could use her skills. She could fix things. But she worked for Cody. That was crystal clear. And I don’t think she liked that too much. Working for her little brother.”
I thought about how to broach the next question. “You’re aware the police are looking at Cody as a suspect?”
His widening eyes and gaping mouth told me he was not aware, nor was he very pleased. His mouth suddenly curled in anger. “That is outrageous. Cody would never do anything to hurt Kristy! I don’t know how the police could ever have dreamed up that.”
“Can you think of anyone who might have had a problem with Kristy?”
He looked down. “She was never a popular girl,” he said in a low voice. “But I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm her. This had to be an accident. It is just beyond my comprehension to think she could do anything to make someone want to … to do … this.”
“Did she have a boyfriend? Even someone she may have started seeing recently?”
“Not that I’m aware of. As I said, she was not an easy person to get along with. It would probably take a special kind of man to be with her.”
I thought of something. “Do you know if Kristy had a will?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We’d been trying to get both Kristy and Cody to do that. I know it can be a hard thing to do, planning for your own demise. Neither one of them got around to it, to the best of my knowledge.”
The rest of my time with Lester Groh was mostly spent expressing condolences. When I left Lester’s house, I did not know a whole lot more about who might have killed Kristy than I did before I came. I found a Starbucks in a strip mall near UC Irvine and spent an hour waiting for traffic to ease up, then finally headed north. I had just crossed into Long Beach and was trying to figure what, if anything, to do next, when my phone rang. It was a voice I had not heard in a few months.
“Burnside?”
“That’s me.”
“Detective Gary Adler. Culver City PD. Remember me?”
“I do,” I said, thinking back a few months to the detective that interceded in my brawl outside of the Chuck E. Cheese on La Tijera. “How’s your son, Greg, doing? I’ve been meaning to call and set up a play date with him and Marcus.”
“Greg is fine. But we have some police business to discuss,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I’m over at the Tattle Tale Room on Sepulveda. I think you’ve made an appearance here recently.”
“Yeah …?” I said, not liking where this seemed to be going.
“Yeah. We have a dead body in the alley. Technically next to a dumpster. Name’s Ted Stoner, shot three times in the head. Witnesses say you were in the bar last night, and you two had a nasty back-and-forth out in that alley. Why don’t you swing by so we can discuss this in person. We’ll talk about a play date for our kids another time.”
*
I arrived at the Tattle Tale at about 10:30 a.m. and it was fairly packed, albeit with more police investigators than patrons. A few people were seated at the bar, though, staring blankly at the scene around them. A number had empty glasses sitting in front of them. Oddly, while this might seem rather early to begin drinking, the Tattle Tale’s hours of operation began at six in the morning and ran straight through until the state-mandated closing time of 2:00 the following morning. For some, the best time to begin drinking is whenever they can get a drink.
I found Gary Adler outside in the alley, talking to someone from the medical examiner’s office. He finished and turned to me.
“And we meet again,” he started. “At yet another crime scene.”
“I do get around.”
“Apparently. Maybe you can provide some detail as to what happened with you and Stoner. Maybe start with why you were here in the first place.”
“Long story,” I said.
“I got time.”
I took Detective Adler through my first meeting with Stoner, how he had hired me to be his lookout at WAVE while he engaged in what I surmised to be a faux drive-by shooting. I explained my connection to WAVE, my being hired by Cody Groh, and the subsequent incident of the Audi convertible going over a cliff in San Pedro. The more I described the chain of events, the more ludicrous it sounded. I did, however, take pains to point out that I had immediately contacted LAPD after Stoner left my office, and had been working with Detectives Rainey and Hartwick. Adler said he knew both of them.
“We overlap sometimes,” he said. “But you came in here looking to find Stoner. What were you planning to do?”
I shrugged and decided not to tell him I simply felt like beating someone up, and had acted out my impulses on a slime ball who most likely deserved it. “Ultimately I was trying to find out who hired him in the first place,” I managed. “I didn’t know that he’d tell me, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Sounds as if it might have. So you thought you’d beat the answer out of him.”
I took this in. “I admit the thought crossed my mind. But whoever he was protecting was someone that he wasn’t about to give up easily. Maybe it was a badder dude than him. Maybe it was someone with a lot of assets who could keep the money flow going.”
“But that tactic didn’t work. He didn’t tell you.”
“Let’s just say I was interrupted by three hefty gentlemen who were sitting at the bar. They interceded. I didn’t know if they were associates or just thought they were being good Samaritans.”
Gary Adler gave a chuckle. “If I recall correctly, when we met, you were taking them on three at a time. But I guess barroom brawlers might have a little more spunk in them than a bunch of dads standing outside of a Chuck E. Cheese.”
“You remember that too, huh?”
“Oh, I remember. And if I also recall, the judge told you to get some counseling on anger management. You sign up for that yet?”
“Um, yeah, but I’ve only had one session,” I admitted.
“Guess they haven’t gotten to the part about not settling disagreements in a back alley,” Adler said dryly. “But I’ve got to tell you, Burnside, this is looking a little, well, awkward, to put it mildly. I’ve got a good gut feeling about people, and I think you’re probably all right. But I’ve also got a stiff lying next to a dumpster in an alley where you had a physical altercation with him last night. To say you’re a person of interest is an understatement.”
I sighed and recognized the position he was in, and more importantly, the position I was in. Circumstantial evidence usually isn’t enough to convict, but it is enough to get a jury thinking. And innocent people have been tried and found guilty plenty of times. Juries can’t know what really happened, so they make their best guess.
“Look, how do I go about proving I did
n’t do this. Was there a video camera in the alley?”
“Interesting you bring this up. There were two video cameras, and both had gotten disabled. And whatever they might have captured recently has been tampered with. There’s no eyewitnesses, other than a few barflies who went outside after they heard shots.”
“When did this happen?” I asked. “What time?”
“About 8:30 last night. We’d been trying to track down these three guys that went out back, but unfortunately the bar doesn’t keep their home addresses on file.”
“Three guys?” I asked. “Would they happen to be kind of big and kind of wearing dark blue overalls?”
Adler nodded warily. “Friends of yours?”
“No, but they’re the ones who interceded on Stoner ’s behalf last night.”
“And that means what?”
“Maybe they were working with Stoner,” I suggested.
“We’ve talked to someone who says he knows them,” Adler remarked. “Let me see how he’s doing tracking him down.”
Detective Adler walked inside and came out about ten minutes later. “As it turns out, those three guys work a few blocks from here, at a car repair shop. We got some uniforms going out now to round them up. Don’t stray too far. After I talk to them, I’m going to want to talk to you again.”
My eyes followed Adler as he walked back inside. Looking around the alley, I saw nothing of significance, a few empty Coke bottles, a white bag from Jack In The Box, an empty pack of cigarettes, some well-worn sneakers someone decided to part with. I decided to take an early lunch. For all I knew, my next meal might be at the Culver City jail. I walked across the street to the Sorrento Market, an Italian grocery store, and walked around for a few minutes, partly window shopping, but mostly killing time. I asked a woman behind the counter if she knew of any gelato shops in the area, and she did not.
