“If you want to know what I know, show me the money.”
I stared at her with snake eyes for a minute, trying to find out if she was bluffing. Ultimately, I went to get my purse.
“I presume this has to do with your lunch with Rusty’s mom. What the hell did you guys order? It’s nearly impossible to order over thirty dollars at Spitfire for a meal, let alone lunch.”
“The money isn’t for lunch.”
“Marisol, what did you two do?”
“This has nothing to do with Joan, although she did tell me where Jonas lived, so thanks for reminding me. You owe me another twenty-five for that info.”
“I’m going to owe you and deliver a knuckle sandwich if you don’t start explaining yourself.”
“Fine. You really aren’t a morning person, are you?”
I turned off the TV and took her juice glass away from her.
“After lunch, I decided to check out the apartment building Jonas had lived in. It’s just up a few streets on Centinela.”
I stared back at her.
“The super was outside sweeping when I got there. Turns out, Larry and I went to Venice High together. From the looks of him, all he’s been doing since then is eating his way through a Hostess factory.”
She laughed. I didn’t. “How do you live with her?” Marisol asked Bardot. “Anyway, I told him that I was settling Jonas’s estate, and that I needed access to his place.”
“You did what?”
She nodded. “I may have said something about being an attorney too.”
“You lied just to show off to a high-school alum? When he finds out and calls the cops, you’d better be ready to call in all your markers in the police department.”
That didn’t faze her a bit, but she grinned and pulled out a set of keys and dangled them in my face.
I moved to take them, and she quickly put them back in her pocket. Bardot sensed the beginnings of a game and sat up.
“What did you expect me to tell Larry? That I was with a mobile maid service and had been sent to mop the floors . . . sterilize the bathroom? Or that my crazy neighbor sent me on a spy mission to help clear her and her winos from a murder rap?”
“At least the second one would sound somewhat plausible coming out of your mouth.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I took my wallet out of my purse, figuring she could go on like this all day and I’d end up actually killing her.
I pulled out the cash but gave her a taste of her own medicine and snatched it away when she reached for it.
“Tell me about these keys.”
“Even your mother must hate you. Larry was happy to let Jonas’s attorney into his apartment, but he said he was about to leave on a long weekend trip to Lake Elsinore and wouldn’t be able to wait for me to finish and then lock up. So he gave me the keys and asked me to just drop them off on Monday. Or I could just take them off the ring and drop them into his locked mailbox slat.”
With that, she dangled the keys again and held her other hand open with the palm up.
I counted out three tens and a twenty and placed the money in her hand. I reached for the keys, but she pulled them away again.
“Marisol, I’m calling Homeland Security right now and reporting your whole spying operation.”
“You still owe me twenty-five for getting Jonas’s address.”
“I’m not paying it. This is extortion!”
“Have it your way.” She tossed me the keys.
“You’re giving up that easily? You must be spying on someone pretty interesting.”
“Nope.”
“So, what gives?”
“Those keys won’t do anything but weigh down your pocket unless you know what building and door they open.”
She laughed and laughed and laughed.
Later, I stared into my empty wallet and cried and cried and cried.
* * *
The apartment Jonas had rented was one of those late fifties/early sixties stucco boxes of about five stories facing busy Centinela Boulevard. Three-foot-deep small balconies gave the owners an excuse to charge a premium for the western-facing units, even though the only items that would fit out there were bicycles and folded-up card tables.
Because I was sure Marisol had already conducted a personal tour of Jonas’s premises, I didn’t even bother telling her that Sally, Peggy, and I were headed over there this afternoon. Heck, she probably knew anyway.
“You sure we won’t run into the police, Halsey? We could do with a long time-out from Augie and the entire Pacific Police Department.”
“Don’t worry, Sally. Marisol told me she checked with the super, and the cops came by early on, swept Jonas’s place, found nothing and moved on.”
“Is this a wasted trip? We still have time to go back and rustle up a Wine Club,” Peggy suggested.
“I think this is important. We agreed we need to learn as much about Jonas as possible. When the cops came by, all they were looking for were signs of a robbery or even signs of the murderer. We’re going in to search for clues about his life and the people he considered important in it.”
“You’re right, of course, Halsey. I was just thinking about rainbow sherbet and Sauternes.”
“Ew. Do you want tooth rot, Peggy? Tired of brushing?” Sally was leading the way along the fifth-floor hallway. “Sorry for that snipe, Peggy. The police are still sniffing around Jimmy, and it’s left me in my cranky tights again.”
“What’s the number again, Sally?” We’d passed a door with a ragged mat piled with takeout menus.
“Five E.”
“The E is missing, but we’ve checked all the other doors. Let’s try the key,” intrepid Peggy said.
It was dark on the floor, one of the fluorescent tube lights had burned out and it smelled vaguely of stale pot. Or a skunk. I doubt Jonas had ever brought the object of his desire, Britt, to this lair. I’d told Sally and Peggy the dirt on them while we were walking over. Like me, they found the news sad.
The key turned, and we entered the unit. Jonas had lived in a studio apartment in the back of the building overlooking an alley. From the little we’d been told about him, I think we all three expected to be entering a frat-house atmosphere, with a worn sunken couch, a big-screen TV, some artwork homage to beer and little else. That isn’t what we found.
“Get a load of this.” Sally held up a wooden carved sculpture of what looked like a giant anteater-type beast with a bushy tail.
“Creepy.” I was trying not to focus on one item or another and just let the entire space tell me about the person who had lived in it.
“This is a person who traveled,” Peggy noticed, doing pretty much the same thing I was. “No hometown California boy is interested in this kind of tapestry.”
I followed her eyes and spotted the woven piece. It hung from a brass rod flush against the wall. It was made with brightly colored strips of several different wools and materials with a green fringe on the bottom, resembling long, hanging tree leaves. Beside it and on the same wall were three braided ropes with leather handles and a leather or shell pouch in the center. Sally came up beside me and examined the pieces.
“I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve been to my share of museums with Joe and this looks like pre-Columbian art.”
“What do we think this kid was making at the airport as an apprentice to Rusty?” Peggy had joined us.
“Not enough to buy this kind of collection.” I had no idea what to make of this.
“The origin of these items can’t be a coincidence.” I perused the titles on a two-shelf bookcase. There were lots of books on planes and flying from WWI to the present day. I noted some history books, all covering Central and South America. And at the very bottom, something caught my eye.
“This is going to knock you into the next century,” I said to the girls after studying my find.
“Whatcha got there, honey?” Sally stopped nosing around the tiny kitchen and joined m
e back in the center of the room.
“It’s a magazine. It was hidden behind a book on the bottom shelf. It’s called Pharmaceutical Processing, and the corner of one of the pages is folded in.”
“I hate when people do that.” Peggy peered over my shoulder. “No, it can’t be!”
Peggy snatched the periodical out of my hands for a closer look.
“What?” Sally asked, grabbing it from Peggy.
“That’s right,” I said. “Jonas or someone else bookmarked an article in the magazine authored by none other than our neighbor, Jeb Wallis.”
“I need a drink,” we all said at once and hightailed it out of there.
* * *
We decided to forgo the elevator, which could be anywhere and take who-knows-how-long to arrive. This building just felt dirty with ugly secrets. As we were leaving, my cell rang, and I saw it was Jack.
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said to me.
“Are you okay?” I felt a panic coming on.
“I’m fine. Where are you? I hear an echo.”
“Long story, but I’m with Sally and Peggy. Should I put them on speaker?”
“Sure . . . hello, ladies. I’m heading back now. We got a report of an ultralight plane that went down in the hills near Thousand Oaks. We located the plane early this morning, but we found no sign of life or, for that matter, any indication anyone had suffered any injuries.”
“How do you explain that?” Peggy asked.
“It’s a tough one. I suppose the pilot could have parachuted out. But we haven’t seen any remnants of that and we’ve flown over and over the area.”
“I’m confused. Is this the good news or the bad news, honey?”
“Neither, Halsey. The good news is that the downed plane is a yellow Pietenpol Air Camper replica.”
“Holy spicy Bloody Marys,” Sally whispered.
“Wow. That sounds like the lead we’ve been waiting for. What’s the bad part?”
“The bad part is that the tail numbers have been painted over and the plane is empty except for flying essentials. No paperwork, licenses, nothing to tell us who the owner is and who was flying it.”
“That’s not bad news,” I said.
Everyone waited.
“That’s the fat lady leaving the building. We’re never going to solve this case.”
CHAPTER 16
We were in a waiting game and I didn’t like it. Everyone seemed to feel the same way, so we agreed to meet for lunch at Spitfire to pass the time. Maybe clues would just fall out of the sky and drop into our laps.
Jack had assured me that they were working on recovering the tail numbers, but I didn’t hold out much hope. Whoever had downed that plane wanted everything to stay anonymous.
“Listen, you guys, I have something to tell you, but I can’t do it here,” Aimee whispered as we waited to be taken to our table.
“There are my girls!” Britt approached and went in for a group hug.
Somehow, I wasn’t feeling it, but the others embraced her with aplomb.
“The usual booth?” she asked, grabbing menus.
Before they could all nod, I jumped in. “You know, it’s such a beautiful day and I’ve been locked indoors working for the past week. How about we sit outside at the far end of the patio? Those who want sun can have it, and the others will be shaded by the umbrella.”
“Okay,” Britt said, giving me a good look.
“You are so brilliant,” Aimee quietly told me as we marched back out the door of the restaurant.
We argued/discussed the seating arrangement, even though we were given a round table. There are nuances to the relationships within the Rose Avenue Wine Club I have never quite understood.
Ice teas and a hot coffee for Peggy were ordered and we got down to business. We had the patio pretty much to ourselves, except for a foursome of geeky guys who were engrossed in whatever version of their app they were beta testing. I felt confident we could speak freely. I studied the logo on the menu for a moment, trying to mentally compare it to the one on the business card in the gardening book. If they were different, it was subtle.
“I know we all have really interesting news to report, but let’s try to go in an order that helps build the learning into a full story.”
Mary Ann gave me an encouraging nod, probably sizing me up as possible editorial material.
“At the sister airport in San Diego,” Peggy picked up the ball, “my sources tell me the Mexican restaurant hostess Chloe is quite the man magnet but has had a steady beau for almost a year now. This clown tosses around money like it grows on trees and is said to own a nightclub in Old Town. I’ll have more on that in a day or so.”
“How does that tie into our case?” Aimee asked.
“The guy’s name is Oscar Sandoval and he comes from Nicaragua.”
“The same country that was the source of the fish with the heroin.” I could see light bulbs go off in everyone’s mind.
“It’s highly probable that drug runs have been happening from Montgomery for a while, courtesy of unsuspecting small plane pilots like Charlie. I’ll smack that girl with a paddle if I see her again.” Sally looked disgusted.
“Sorry. We just had a big rush inside,” Britt said, returning to our table. “Let me get your orders in before the Mar Vista girls’ soccer league beats you to the punch.”
We did as she asked, and as Britt was rushing back, she stopped for a minute to admire a bulldog that one of the geeks had with him. A dim bulb was flickering in my brain as well. We spent the next few minutes slipping into our usual gossiping selves.
“My turn, I guess.” Mary Ann sat up on the edge of her seat, anxious to give us the results of her work. We all leaned in so we could hear her soft voice. “I talked to the two guys who said they witnessed an argument between Jimmy and Jonas while they were working on a restoration in the open garage next to the museum hangar. They seem to be decent guys, and I have no reason to doubt they were sincere in their reporting.”
She paused while our food was placed in front of us. I had the sinking feeling Mary Ann was about to divulge absolutely nothing in the way of help for Jimmy.
“Please go on, Mary Ann. Aimee, is that hot sauce in that caddy by you?”
“Here you go, Sally.”
“I’ve been a reporter too long to just accept things at face value and not make sure I’ve looked at every side of the coin. I made them do a reenactment.”
“I love this lady.” Aimee hugged and nearly crushed her.
“You need to go on that sex show, the one where Chris Hansen catches those horndogs preying on young girls.”
“I don’t think so, Sally, but I appreciate the vote of confidence. As I suspected, things were not so clear when they took me through the paces. First off, the echo from that huge chamber distorts voices so much, it would be nearly impossible to understand what was being said from next door. Secondly, the only light in the hangar comes from those big overhead dome lamps or from sunlight seeping through a row of narrow, four-foot-long windows that run along one wall just under the roof. We shut off the lights and stood in the doorway from the garage and peered in. One of the mechanics stood in the place where they remembered Jonas was standing.”
“This is so great, Mary Ann. I want to be you when I grow up.” I said it and meant it.
“Agreed.” Sally nodded while pouring more hot sauce on her vegetarian chili.
“Those windows are pretty old, and they refract any sun shining through. The effect is kind of eerie. There’s an enlarged halo of light created when it hits the metal of the hangar wall and/or one of the planes stored in there.”
“What you would see looking inside could be a Michael Jackson video, a close-up of twilight or the second coming?” Peggy had nailed it.
“Meaning this so-called argument and its participants would never hold up in court. Awesome work! I sent Marisol out on a recon mission and she had lunch with Rusty’s mom. She wasn’t able to get
anything more to point guilt in his direction. He gambles, spends money he doesn’t have and is generally disgusted with the world. But she said he has a good heart, and I can’t argue, considering he saved me from a bad accident.”
“Amen. Sorry that didn’t pan out.” Mary Ann said, draining her tea glass and looking around for someone to replenish it. For a five-foot woman, she sure had a couple of hollow legs.
“Never give up on Marisol. She came through big time,” I corrected her and looked to Sally.
She recounted our search of Jonas’s apartment and the unexpected artifacts and reading materials we found. She concluded by saying that there was still so much we didn’t know about our murder victim.
I saw Aimee bouncing up and down on her chair like she was planted on a whoopee cushion and gave her the floor. Er, table.
Aimee took a long time to check all sides of us for eavesdroppers before she began.
“I bumped into Britt at the seafood stand in the Mar Vista Farmers’ Market on Sunday. I know, kind of ironic that she was buying fish. But she also had a basket of produce she’d bought, so don’t see too much into it. We decided to grab cappuccinos and take a load off at the food court. She wanted to know about Tom—how we met, you know . . . it was the perfect segue for me to turn the romance tables on her.”
“You’re a natural, honey.” Sally toasted her with an empty tea glass.
“She told me about high-school crushes, a couple guys she’d been serious about and then stopped short of present day. I persisted and reminded her that she’d said that Jonas had had a thing for her. She seemed surprised I’d brought that up but then ultimately admitted—”
“You chicas all sated and happy?” Britt was back with the check and none of us had seen her coming. We’d all been so engrossed in Aimee’s story.
“I think we’re good,” I replied, handing her my credit card. “Aimee’s telling us some gory emergency room tales from Tom, and I don’t think any of us could even look at food after what we’ve heard so far.”
“Aimee, I’m shocked,” she teased before walking away.
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