“Hey there,” I call out, stepping onto the back porch. And then I take a quick step back, sucker punched in the gut.
“Hi, Zach,” Ember says, turning her scarred face toward mine. “What a nice place you have.”
I nod and eye Adam, who’s splayed across the worn wooden steps with my guitar resting in his lap. He reaches for a squat brown bottle of beer and takes a chug before speaking. “Did we wake you?” he asks.
“Uh . . . no.”
“Good. Hope you don’t mind us invading your space.”
“Oh, no. Of course not. It’s just . . . I’m going to head back inside. I’ve got a few things to do.”
“Anything we can help you with?” Ember asks.
“No . . . no . . . you stay right there. Adam, can you step inside for a second? Want to show you something.”
“Sure.” After stretching his lanky body, he sets down my guitar and mumbles something to Ember. Her face lights up, and she giggles. He pats her knee, then gets to his feet and follows me into the kitchen. “What?” he asks with a goofy smile.
“Not here.”
I turn and pick my way through my trash pit of a dining room and head to the far corner of the living room.
I bet he has a crush on that girl, Tina says.
“Impossible.”
Why?
“You know why.”
You’re mean. What if I’d lived? Would you have avoided me too?
“That’s different.”
No, actually, it’s not.
I turn to face Adam. “Why’s that girl here?”
“Ember?”
“Who else?”
Be nice, Tina moans.
I slap the side of my head. “Mosquito,” I say to Adam’s questioning eyes.
He blinks a couple of times. “Well, I didn’t think you’d mind if I brought over a friend. We didn’t come inside. I took her through the back gate.”
“I don’t mind. It’s just . . .” A storm of emotions brews in my gut. Of course I mind . . . because . . . because . . . shit. I can’t think straight. I try again. “Why don’t you take her back to your house . . . I mean . . . it’s neater, right? And you got food and stuff like that.”
Adam’s smile fades like the receding of an ocean wave. And there’s a flash of something else. Sadness, I think.
You’ve hurt his feelings, Tina says.
I can’t argue with that.
Adam fixes his gaze on the blank TV screen, his face growing sullen and gray. “I like it better here, and I thought you were okay with that. I even brought my own beer. But if we’re bugging you, we’ll take off.”
“It’s not that . . .” How can I explain about Ember? How she brings back the horror of my past?
It’s guilt, Tina says. Pure and simple. You’ll never escape it until you tell the truth.
I tap my forehead. “I like having you here,” I say. “But I’m not so sure about other people.” I point at the piles of magazines. “Don’t know if I want my coworkers seeing this mess. It’s kind of embarrassing. Anyway. I’m sure your mom would like to see more of you. At least that’s what she says.”
Adam pushes his hands deep into his pockets, his voice sounding tight and strained. “I get enough of my mom every day. She’s always bugging me about my future. I mean, I appreciate her letting me camp out for a while, but she never knows when to shut up. When she’s not asking me questions, she looks like she wants to. If I brought a girl over . . . well, you know how she gets. She’d want to know if something was going on.”
“Is something going on?”
He shakes his head. “No. Ember’s just a friend. I can talk to her. She’s had some bad things happen; I can relate to that.”
“Oh.” I slump against the wall, trying to take the weight off my knee. “How about this morning? Did you tell Ember about that?”
“She knows about Milo, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You didn’t tell her you found him, did you?”
He bristles, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not stupid, you know. I told you I wouldn’t say anything, and I didn’t. But she worked with Milo, so of course we talked about him. It would be weird if we didn’t.”
“Maybe . . . but even if you think you can trust her, you can’t reveal the truth. We could get in a lot of trouble for lying, so we’ve got to keep our stories straight.”
“Of course. I know the drill. I parked my car and walked straight to the kitchen and didn’t see nothing.”
“And you smoked a cigarette.”
“Yeah. I told the detective that.”
My blood runs cold. “You met with Detective Ruiz?”
“I met with some police guy. Don’t remember his name.”
“Big guy dressed in a suit?”
“Yeah. He didn’t seem very smart. Kept asking me the same questions in lots of different ways.”
My heart begins to race. “What questions?”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Try.”
He shrugs. “Like why did I park way back in the corner, and am I sure I didn’t see nothing at all.”
I take a deep breath. “Why did you park way back in the corner?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “I told you before. I just did.”
“That’s not a good answer.”
“Yeah, well. That’s what I told the detective. But between you and me . . .” His voice drops. “I parked there because Ember was working the night shift. After she gets off, she usually walks that way to get to the bus. I wanted to talk to her.”
“That’s bullshit, Adam.”
His cheeks bloom red. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re lying to me.” I bend and rub my knee. The thing’s throbbing like a bitch. “Ember wouldn’t walk that way to catch the bus. The bus stop is outside the front gates.”
“Well, maybe she was going to her car.”
“She has a car?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
I straighten and curl my hands into fists. “Damn it, Adam. You want me to help you, you’d better tell me the truth.”
Adam stares at me like he hates me, and then his shoulders droop. “Okay. Well, maybe I didn’t tell you everything . . .”
I freeze. “What’s everything?”
His eyes dart back and forth like he’s searching for an escape. “I got there early to buy some Adderall.”
“Adderall?”
“Yeah. It helps me focus.”
“Who the hell’s selling Adderall in the parking lot at that time of the . . .” I swallow my next words, the answer dawning on me. “Jesus, Adam. No.”
“He was already dead when I got there.”
The ramifications race through my mind. Holy shit. “I can’t believe this . . .”
Adam glances over his shoulder like he’s looking for an escape route. “It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? Are you crazy?” It takes everything in me not to punch him in the face.
“Look,” he pleads. “It really isn’t. I mean, you can get Adderall by prescription. People use it all the time.”
“Then why not get a prescription?”
“I don’t know. More of a hassle, I guess.”
“A hassle?” I try to calm myself by putting on my detective hat. “So who suggested meeting in the back of the parking lot?”
“Milo. That’s his spot.”
“His spot?”
“That’s where he meets everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“He was the campus candy man. You didn’t know that?”
“Candy man?”
“As in dealer.”
“How would I know that?”
“Someone in security helps him. That’s why the cameras don’t work.”
“And you thought that person was me?”
“No . . . but stuff gets around.”
I think of the men at security. Manny, Moe, and Mac. Some of the other lowlifes. Hell, it cou
ld be anyone. “Did you tell the detective about this?”
He sniffs. “I’m not a moron.”
My legs are ready to give out. “We’re fucked; you know that, right?”
“It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? On what planet do you live?”
“Hell, I didn’t touch the guy. And I bet he had ten other drug deals going down that morning. It could’ve been anyone.”
I peer at his too-handsome face that may have let him off the hook one too many times. “So why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
He shrugs. “I was scared, I guess. I thought you wouldn’t help me if I told you about the Adderall.”
“You thought right.” I fumble for my next words. “You understand this looks bad, right? With your history . . . our history . . . if the police find out we’re lying . . .”
“They won’t find out.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I won’t tell them if you don’t.” He takes a step back. “We’d better get going. It’s kinda weird leaving Ember out there on her own.”
I open my mouth to argue, but it’s like the air has been squeezed from my lungs. “Go on.” I dismiss him with a wave of my hand.
Well, that’s awkward, Tina says once he’s out of the room.
“More than awkward. If he lied about meeting Milo, what else don’t I know?”
He was scared, Zach. Nothing more. You know he wouldn’t kill a man.
“Do I?”
Yes, you do. Now go on and greet your guest. Talk to that sweet girl. Make her feel welcome. Offer to cook up some dinner.
“Serve a can of chili?”
Come on, Zach. Do I have to think for you too? Order pizza and a salad. Something. Anything. Try to be a gracious host.
I take a bite of pizza and try to savor the salt and the fat, but when I glance across the picnic table, the gorge rises in my throat. My young guest doesn’t seem to notice. Ember just giggles and chats. An outsider might assume our odd-looking trio was the very best of friends.
You’re not trying, Tina whispers. Slap a smile on your face.
I swat her away like a bug.
“Your garden is beautiful,” Ember says, a slice of cheese pizza dangling from her hand.
Beautiful? Maybe decades ago, but now? When we first moved in, there had been a lush green lawn surrounded by more than a dozen citrus trees—oranges, tangerines, grapefruit. I flash on a memory of Hunter’s happy kid face, his chin glistening with sticky yellow juice. He liked to help his mom pick the ripe fruit. He especially liked the tangerines.
“It’s as if you live in a jungle,” Ember continues. “Like we’re not dining in the backyard of a downtown home but having a picnic out in the wild.”
Jungle? I suppose that’s true. The trees are overgrown and tangled, the ground drowning in rotten fruit. The lawn has been replaced by unstoppable crabgrass that has smothered everything in its path. A family of skunks has taken residence in the tool shed sagging in the far corner of the yard. Raccoons forage in the weeds; rabbits scurry from hole to hole.
Two neighborhood crows swoop across the darkening sky and settle in the uppermost branches of my neighbor’s acacia. When the birds first arrived a few years ago, their cawing drove me nuts. But now I think of them as family and worry when they’re not around. I pop open a second beer and take a slug, and my shoulders begin to relax. I close my eyes and picture Hunter gathering fruit in a wicker basket. Then I snap back to the present and tune in to the conversation at the mention of Milo’s name.
“It’s awful.” Ember’s expression has turned sad. “I can’t believe he was killed. Who would do such a thing?”
“Are the police saying he was murdered?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she replies. “But that’s the gossip going around.”
I’d like to hear more about the gossip. Maybe it will lead to the murderer, which will get Adam and me out of this mess. “Were you friends with Milo?”
“Not friends, but we both worked the night shift.”
“Decent guy?”
“Decent? Um . . . I don’t know. I suppose.”
Adam narrows his eyes and mouths something at me that I pretend not to understand. “Ever hear any rumors?” I ask.
“What kind of rumors?”
“This is depressing,” Adam says, draining his beer. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”
I ignore Adam’s words. “Rumors about Milo selling drugs.”
Ember fixes her good eye on mine, and I do my best to keep a straight face. “Does this have something to do with his death?” she asks.
“Maybe.”
She wipes her hands with her napkin. “Well, then yes. There were rumors . . .”
“What kind?”
“Well . . . it always seemed like he was the first to arrive when one of our guests passed. And sometimes the painkillers would go missing.”
“Sometimes?”
“Many times.”
“You ever catch him in the act?”
She hesitates and twists her napkin tight. “Once when Loretta Thomas passed.”
“Did you report him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He said he was just cleaning up.”
“And you believed him?”
“Not really. I guess I felt sorry for him. He seemed lonely, and I didn’t want to get him in trouble.”
I shiver at a change in the weather; a fog-laced breeze ruffles my hair. But I won’t let the cold stop my informal interrogation. Who better to tell me the truth? “You were one of the last people to see Simon Appleton alive, right?”
“Right.”
“Was Nurse Milo at the infirmary that morning?”
She slowly nods. “Yes. He was.”
“Any chance he was there to steal drugs?”
She shakes her head. “No. Not from the infirmary. They keep a strict count.”
“But he was alone with Mr. Appleton?”
“I think so. Yes.”
I take a stab at the next question. “Ever hear of something called the Goodnight Club?”
“Um . . . no.” She picks up another slice of pizza and nibbles at the end.
“Could you ask around at work?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Because I’m thinking they may have something to do with this.”
“With Nurse Milo’s death?”
“Possibly.”
Adam makes a strangling sound and staggers to his feet. “Come on, Ember,” he says. “I’ll give you a ride home. It’s getting cold, and there’s a show I want to watch.”
Six
Wednesday, September 25
“It’s been a while,” Kate says. She’s perched on the edge of her favorite lounge chair, pouring whiskeys with a shaky hand. She’s dressed in a green-and-orange velvet robe tonight, her fiery hair tamed in a bun. A candle burns bright on the glass end table; cherry-scented smoke sweetens the air. A sphinx moth thumps against the outdoor light, casting shadows across the ground. Its wings must hurt when they hit the glass, but I’m guessing that insect won’t stop. It’ll just keep on with its bumping until it finally gives up and dies.
“They’ve been messing with my shift,” I say.
“Murder will do that.”
“Um . . .” I stutter to a stop. We’ve been told to keep quiet on the cause of Milo’s death while Javier makes his rounds.
“No need to lie to me,” she says. “I may be old, but I’m not stupid. Nurse Milo didn’t die from a heart attack. Rumor is he was killed.”
A coyote yips from somewhere nearby. I glance at Kate sideways. “Who’s saying that?”
“Everyone. There’s nothing to do in this place but gossip. I’m sure you’re aware of that. And we don’t typically have police types poking around. People die here every day.”
“Did you like him?” I ask.
“The deceased?” She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t speak ill of t
he dead, but no. No one did.” She settles in her chair with a sigh.
“Why not?”
“Are you investigating the murder?”
“I’m just an interested party.”
“Well . . . most caretakers are decent people. I hold them in the highest regard.” She sets down her glass with a clank. “But there are a few that are different. They’re here because they have a craving for power and can’t acquire it any other way. So, who better to victimize than the old and frail? No one listens to us anyway. It’s as if at the end of life we age backward and people treat us like young children.”
I lean forward, interested. “Tell me more about Nurse Milo.”
“He was cruel but careful. Would wait until he was alone with one of the champions and turn his evil ways on them.”
“Do you have proof?”
She shakes her head. “No proof.”
“But guests knew?”
“Oh yes. We avoided him if we could. There was a reason he chose to work in the champion’s unit. And, of course, he preferred to work at night.”
“What about Kai? Did he know?”
“Our infantile executive director? I suppose it’s possible. It’s so difficult to find staff in Santa Barbara, it wouldn’t surprise me if he turned a blind eye.”
“Hypothetically, if Nurse Milo came to a bad end, is there any guest that would’ve had the strength and skill to kill him?”
She levels her gaze on mine. “Hypothetically, what kind of death are we talking about?”
“Let’s say a quick stab to the neck.”
“Carotid artery? That must’ve been a bloody mess.”
I nod. “So is there anyone you can think of?”
She stares at me for a moment before answering. “No. Sorry. There isn’t.”
Something about the way she answers doesn’t ring true. “You sure?” I ask.
“I’m sure.” She finishes off her drink, and I do the same. I’m about to stand and take my leave when a pain-ridden howl escapes through the open door.
“Jesus,” I say. “What was that?”
Kate wobbles to her feet. “It’s my Gordon.”
“Is he all right?”
“Unfortunately, no. My night nurse canceled at the last moment, and I wasn’t able to find a replacement. Gordon should’ve been rotated an hour ago, but I don’t have the strength to move him on my own.”
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