He backs up a few steps. “But I didn’t have anything to do with this . . . I just happened to walk this way. Shit. Shit. Shit. I have enough problems in my screwed-up life. I don’t need any more.”
“Where’s your car?”
He points at a far corner of the lot.
“Why’d you park over there?”
“I don’t know. Why not? Anyway, I gotta go.”
“I told you, you have to stay. The police will want to question you since you were the first person on the scene.”
“I can’t get involved in this.” His voice rises until it reaches a fevered pitch. “My lawyer said if I get into any kind of trouble, I’ll end up in jail.”
“You won’t get in trouble.”
“You sure?”
I start to nod and then stop. I’m not so sure. I stand and consider the situation before coming to a decision I hope I won’t regret. “All right,” I say. “Get out of here. Go to work.”
“Thanks,” he gasps, like he’s been holding his breath.
“Just keep your mouth shut, understand? Don’t mention what you saw to anyone. I’ll take care of this.”
Adam stares at me for a moment before turning and jogging away. I wait a full five minutes before I get security involved. “Richards. Code black.”
“His name is Milo Kushner,” Finn says. “A night nurse. Tell me again how you found him.” Finn’s eyes are locked on mine, and I know exactly what he’s doing. I’ve been there many times. He’s caught a whiff of an untruth, so he’s sniffing me like a dog. I’ve got to give him something, and I’ve got to do it soon. I repeat my story. How I’d been having coffee in the kitchen. Left to make my final rounds. Came upon the dead body. Gave security a call. He lets me finish and then shakes his head.
“Bullshit, Richards.” He says my name like he’s spitting nails. “Something doesn’t add up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you were following the schedule, your final round would’ve taken you to the right, not the left.”
“I started off a little early, so I thought I’d add some extra distance to my route.”
“You’re aware the cameras will time-stamp that.”
“Of course.” I start sweating at the thought of the cameras that watch this place like hawks. How stupid can I be? The cameras will out my lie. Now I’ve backed myself into a corner, and I can’t see an easy way out. Not only will they question Adam’s behavior but they’ll question mine too. If you’re going to tell a lie, make it a good one, the detective in me always says. I reach deep into my pocket and pull out the spare cigarette I save for when the craving gets too much. “Truth is, I came out here to smoke. I know it’s against the rules, but I promise I’m cutting back.”
He eyes me like I’m a loser. “So a cigarette brought you here?”
“Yeah.” I’m pretending to be ashamed when Finn’s sidekick comes running up. Ted Barnet showed up the same day Finn did—I assume he’s corporate too. He has some sort of weird deformity. He’s shorter than me by at least half a foot, and his jaw is way too large. But he’s built like a tank, and if we got into a fight, I have no doubt who’d come out on top.
“I checked the security cameras,” he says in his odd, high-pitched voice. “The ones in the parking lot aren’t working.”
“So, no view of the altercation?”
“No view of nothing.”
“That’s convenient.” Finn rakes me with his gaze. “You were a detective at one time, right?”
“Right.” Guess the guy took a peek at my file.
“What do you think happened here?”
I tilt my head, considering. “Maybe a lover’s quarrel. Coworker fight. But whoever it was, they knew what they were doing.”
“Meaning?”
I crouch and point at the entry wound. “This isn’t a random stab. It’s a carefully calculated jab.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“What else can you tell me?”
I study the body again. “I’d say the assailant was about the same height. And see how the stab wound is clean? Not jagged. I’m guessing whoever did this used a knife with two sharpened edges. Probably a punch knife.”
“You mean a push dagger?”
“Same thing.”
“Aren’t those illegal in California?”
“If concealed, yes. Anyway, forensics will have more to say about that.”
“Would he have died right away?”
“Maybe two minutes. Three. He didn’t just drop on the ground. They rarely do. Victims of stab wounds typically react by fight or flight. See how there’s blood splashed around? I’d say he staggered in a circle a few times.”
“So flight?”
“I think so.”
“Wouldn’t the killer’s clothes be covered in blood?”
“Most likely.”
“All right. Go get some coffee. I’ll be in touch.”
“Shouldn’t I wait for the police?”
“That might take a while.”
“You haven’t called them?”
“Not yet.”
“They’ll be pissed if you wait too long.”
Finn’s eyes narrow. “You telling me how to do my job?”
“Just saying . . .”
“Then say it to yourself. And by the way, keep your mouth shut, and don’t go spewing your theories.”
“Theories?”
“You’re no expert, and you sure as hell don’t know what happened here.” He jabs his finger at my chest. “Unless you do. Now move along. You’re dismissed.” He turns his back to me and starts talking to Barnet. I want to say something nasty but think better of it and head off. When I get halfway across the parking lot, I pause and look back. Finn is crouched next to one side of the body. Barnet is crouched on the other. I swear they’re going through Milo’s pockets. Maybe I should call the police.
Four
Wednesday, September 18
I hobble straight for the Champion’s Club, fumbling with my cell phone. Peck. Peck. Peck. I’m deleting all traces of Adam’s call. Now I’ve got to find him and make sure he does the same. Shit. I’m the one acting like a criminal. But now that I’ve gone and lied to Finn, isn’t that what I’ve become?
I burst through the side door and head for the kitchen, where I find Adam chopping onions near the kitchen sink. He’s wearing the white uniform that denotes the kitchen staff, a hairnet pulled low on his head.
“We gotta talk,” I say.
He barely looks up. “Too early for my break.”
I lay my hand on his arm to stop the chopping. Give it enough pressure so he’ll understand. “Say you gotta piss or whatever. Meet me outside the back door.”
He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue and then he sets down his knife. “All right.”
Outside, I explain what he needs to do. He pulls his cell phone from his back pocket and wipes it clean. I explain a little more, and he starts pacing back and forth.
“I can’t believe my shitty rotten luck.”
“It is what it is.”
“They say anything about the cameras?” he asks in a nervous tone. I catch a whiff of something a little off.
“The ones to the parking lot weren’t working.”
“Guess that’s a good thing.”
“Not really. They might’ve proved you weren’t involved.”
“Oh, yeah.” He stops pacing. “But they’ll know what time I drove in, right? That I was a little early? And that I parked on the far side of the lot.”
“True.”
“So what do I say?”
“That it was dark and you were tired. You didn’t see a thing.”
He scrunches up his face in thought. “But won’t they wonder why it took me so long to get to the kitchen?”
“Did anyone notice?”
“My boss did. I was five minutes late.”
“If anyone asks, say you stopped for a smoke.”
“So what?”
“I could get fired.”
“Fired? That’s the least of your worries. I lied to cover your ass, so now I need you to play along. Understand?”
He drops his gaze. “Yeah.”
I scour his face, wondering if I’ve done the right thing. Is there the slightest chance he’s involved? Why would he park in the far corner of the parking lot? It does seem a little strange.
It is strange, Tina says.
Jesus. I’ve woken the beast. “Go away.”
I can’t believe you’re willing to toss out your ethics. And for what? Your lover’s son?
“She’s not my lover.”
It’s Adam’s turn to lay his hand on my arm. “You okay, Zach?”
And there it is. Right there. There’s my reason. I’m helping the kid because he’s the only person in the world who seems to give a damn about me. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“You’re off shift, right? You should go home.”
“I will after I talk to the police.”
His face grows pinched with worry. “Think they’ll wanna talk to me?”
“Maybe. Just stick to our story.”
“All right. Good luck.”
“I’ll need it.”
Thirty minutes later, all hell has broken loose. A squadron of police cars has cordoned off the parking lot, and a dozen uniformed officers are milling about. Murder is rare in Santa Barbara. Maybe one or two a year, none of which has ever occurred at an old folks’ home. Within the hour, I’m seated in a chair in Finn’s spotless office across the desk from Detective Sergeant Javier Ruiz.
“How are you, Zach?” he asks.
“Good, Javier. You?”
“Can’t complain.” I met Javier years ago at the precinct when he was a greenhorn rookie. He’s a bear of a man with hulking shoulders and hands so large they can swallow a basketball. He must be closing in on fifty but still carries himself like the athlete he was—a star football player at the local high school who married the prettiest cheerleader in town. He’d be a menacing presence if it weren’t for his easy smile and puppy dog eyes. Despite the growing jowls, he still has that friendly spark in his eyes I remember when he was a tenderfoot and I took him under my wing.
Man, those were good times. My life was in front of me, my dreams weren’t just that. A sense of sadness gnaws at my gut, which I do my best to ignore. I’m exhausted, but I need to stay focused. Javier may play the part of a casual ex-jock, but he has a mind as sharp as a tack.
“How are the boys?” I ask, remembering two rough-and-tumble kids who fought as much as they played.
His proud smile stretches from ear to ear. “Ernesto got into UCLA. He starts in a couple of weeks.”
I blow a low whistle. “UCLA. That’s impressive. And the younger one?”
“Juan’s a senior at Santa Barbara High. He’s the starting quarterback.”
“Like father, like son.”
“No. Juan’s much better than I ever was. There’s a chance he can play Division One.”
“That’s pretty damn impressive. You’ve done well.”
“It has nothing to do with me,” he says with a mouthful of false modesty. “Angelica runs a tight ship.”
“How long have you two been together now?”
“Had our twentieth anniversary a couple of months ago.” His smile falters, and I know what he’s thinking. His wedding was the weekend before Hunter passed. I know that because Tina and I attended the event. A huge party at the Paseo Nuevo with an unending supply of alcohol poured to the beat of a mariachi band.
That was fun, wasn’t it? Tina whispers. Angelica looked so beautiful in her gown.
“Go away.”
Javier squirms in his seat. “I heard you got clean. Congrats.”
“Yeah, well, don’t congratulate me yet. It hasn’t been that long, and you know how that goes.”
“At least you have a good job.”
I snort. “Good job? Are you kidding me? I’m a lowlife security guard.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself. And Zach . . .” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry about the firing . . . I mean . . . it haunts me to this day.”
I shift uncomfortably. “You only did what you had to do.” During the last two years of my work life, the tables had been turned. Javier ascended the work rungs of the police department at the same time I descended into hell. In the end, he was the one who fired me. Our roles had been reversed. But I don’t hold it against him. I would’ve fired my sorry ass too.
Javier rubs his oversized hands together. His nails are neatly groomed; a gold band glows from his wedding finger. “I want to tell you something,” he says, “and then we can move on to the business at hand.” His voice has that tone everyone used back then. The one that said we know you’re broken, but we have no idea what to say. Maybe that never changes after tragedy strikes. You’re forever labeled a victim. I wonder if his tone would change if he knew the true story behind Hunter’s death.
You could tell him, Tina says. Nothing’s stopping you.
“Not now,” I reply, covering my words with a cough so Javier won’t think I’m a nut.
“I was pretty damn self-righteous back then,” he says, his eyes focused on his hands. “Even with everything you’d gone through, losing your . . . well . . .”
“It’s okay. You can say it. Losing my family . . .” I will my eyes to stay dry.
“Yeah. Right. Well . . . truth is, I was a judgmental jerk.”
“No worries. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that we all deal with tragedy in our own way. I made the mistake of turning to alcohol. If I could go back and change that, I would.”
“What else would you have done?”
“I don’t know. Guess I could’ve buried myself in my work. Found myself a hobby. Or I could’ve sold everything and moved to a third-world country to do Peace Corps work or something like that.”
He nods. “Well, I want you to know I’ve changed. Mellowed a bit. Anyway . . . now, well, I understand. I mean, if I lost my wife and boys, I don’t think I’d have it in me to live. My family is everything to me. I don’t know how you did it.”
I try to lighten the tension with a joke. “I didn’t do it very well, did I?” I finish off with a strangled laugh.
Javier clears his throat, and I see a glistening in his chocolate-brown eyes. I look away, embarrassed. And then the moment is over, and he straightens his shoulders, and the interview is back on.
“So why don’t you tell me what happened this morning,” he says. “You were on duty?”
“Yes. Near the end of my shift.”
He scribbles on a small pad of paper. “So walk me through the minutes leading up to your discovery of the body.”
I wish I didn’t have to lie to Javier. Every fiber in me regrets my choice. But there’s no going back, so I tell my story. The same one I told Finn. But unlike Finn, Javier doesn’t drill me. He’s giving me the benefit of the doubt. He wants to believe I’m a good guy. Can’t help but appreciate that.
Now’s the time to tell the truth, Tina says. Don’t compound your lies.
I don’t attempt to answer. I focus on the problem at hand.
“Did you know the victim?” Javier asks. “Milo Kushner?”
“No. But he worked the night shift, so I saw him hanging around.”
“Any evidence of drug use?”
“Not that I know of.”
“But he would have access?”
“As a nurse, I would think so. But you’ll have to ask Finn about that.”
“I will.” Javier leans back in his seat and taps his pencil on his pad. I figure this is when he figures out something is wrong.
“You see anyone acting suspiciously?”
“No.”
“No staff coming or going from work?”
I shake my head.
“I’m told the cameras weren’t working. That seem stra
nge to you?”
“Could be a coincidence.”
“Could be.”
He stares at me hard for a moment, and I work to keep my expression flat. “Why the delay in calling 911?” he finally asks.
I shrug, relieved to see him following a different kind of lead. “Finn’s choice.”
“He’s a bit of an asshole, right? Control freak?”
I glance behind me at the closed door. “You can say that.”
“How long has he been working here?”
“Just a couple months. Showed up after the place got bought by some megacorporation.”
“Military background?”
“Yep.”
“I can tell. Sometimes they’re the worst.”
“More often than not.”
He laughs. “That could be true.”
“Well, good luck then.”
“Thanks.”
“Is that it?”
“For now. Go ahead and go home and get some sleep.”
I get to my feet, more relieved than tired. “Thanks.”
“Good to see you, man.”
“Likewise.”
“Let’s get together sometime. Angelica would love to catch up.”
“Sure.” Of course we both know a visit will never happen. There’s one too many skeletons buried in that grave to spend an evening breaking bread.
Five
Wednesday, September 18
I wake in my bed to the sound of drifting voices and the strumming of a guitar. Adam must be practicing on my back porch again. He’s been doing that most every evening. But it sounds like someone’s with him, and I’m not okay with that.
The house is hot and stuffy, and a headache gnaws at my face. I could’ve slept another twelve hours. Hell, I feel like shit. I get up and head to the bathroom and do a quick brush of my teeth. Seconds in, my wild-eyed reflection conjures up the earlier events of the day. Adam’s frightened voice. Milo’s bloody body. Javier’s questioning eyes. Seems I may have gotten myself up a creek, and there ain’t no sign of a paddle.
In honor of the unknown visitor, I run a comb through my hair and change into a clean T-shirt and shorts. Then I pick my way through my house of horrors, eager to join Adam on the porch. I need to find a way to get rid of his friend and speak with him alone. Maybe there’s news on Milo. Maybe the murderer’s been found.
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