Murder at the Bomb Shelter

by Lee Strauss

  Rosa felt anger rising in her. “That would mean that Orville Gainer has hired me to solve the murder as a front. He doesn’t really think I can solve it. He just likes the appearance of me working on it to throw the police off the trail. After all, why would someone hire a detective to solve a murder if they are involved in the killing?”

  No one said anything for a moment, and then with a note of reluctance, Miguel said, “As soon as I found out about the family hiring you, that thought crossed my mind.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You didn’t seem exactly eager to talk about it if you recall.”

  Rosa opened her mouth to reply, but then realized she couldn’t, not if she didn’t want to risk Miguel’s job.

  “By the way, why have you come to us now about the murder investigation?” asked Miguel. “Is it because you have been stonewalled by the family too?”

  “I interviewed Walter Gainer and, though he didn’t give me any details, he did mention that he thought you were closer to solving the murder than I was.”

  “Well, isn’t that sweet of him?” Sanchez scoffed. “We interviewed him a couple days ago, and he gave us absolutely nothing. We even threatened to bring him here for questioning and hold him for twenty-four hours, but he refused to answer one question. He just kept telling us that the Gainer family has the best army of Los Angeles lawyers ever assembled. It was the same line the other Gainers gave us.”

  “The real question then, is how does he know?” Miguel asked. “How does he know that we are closer?”

  Detective Sanchez looked indignant. “Orville Gainer doesn’t even know we are investigating him for fraud. How on earth did Walter Gainer find out?”

  “Dieter Braun told him,” Rosa said, with a sudden revelation.

  Miguel caught her eye. “You think so?”

  “Yes. After my interview with Walter Gainer, it makes sense.”

  “We had a feeling it led back to Braun but didn’t know how,” Miguel said. He tossed a pen onto his desk. “C’mon…let’s have it.”

  “I tell you what,” Rosa said, standing. “We can join forces, but I have to keep some things to myself for now. Keep doing what you’re doing on this Ponzi scheme investigation, and I’ll keep going on the murder investigation. I am convinced now that our paths will cross at some point.”

  Sanchez and Miguel shared a looked of annoyance.

  “Withholding information on a murder investigation carries severe penalties under California law.” Miguel eyed Rosa evenly. “I could force you to tell us what you know.”

  Rosa glanced over her shoulder as she stepped through the open door. “You won’t, though.”

  Miguel scowled.

  17

  That same afternoon, Rosa sat at her desk and stared at the office phone. It was time to report back to Orville Gainer, and she wanted to collect her thoughts. He had insisted on being informed every step of the way, but now that she knew about the Ponzi scheme investigation, she had to choose her words wisely.

  “I was hoping to hear from you today, Miss Reed.” Orville Gainer’s voice sounded gravelly on the phone. “I’ve heard that you’re doing some digging. Good work. What can you tell me?”

  “Leo Romano seems to have a good motive,” Rosa said with a tone of somberness, “but his alibi is pretty solid.”

  “Yes, I knew you would find out about that story about his brother’s death in the war, and honestly, I was hoping Leo was the killer. You’re sure about his alibi then?”

  Rosa cringed at the thought of a man hoping that the father of one of his grandchildren was the killer of his own daughter’s husband.

  “He and Valerie were on vacation in Florida at the time that earthquake hit last week. Surely you must’ve known that?” More than ever, Rosa felt like she was merely a toy to be played with, quite like Diego’s cloth mouse.

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Orville chuckled. “I’m getting old, and the gray matter doesn’t work like it used to. Anything else?”

  “I’ve interviewed a few others, and I feel I am making good headway. For example, Frank Monahan’s alibi seems solid, as well. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear that your son Walter and grandson Colin Monahan are also not in my immediate sights right now either, for various reasons.”

  “I agree. I don’t suspect either one of them either.”

  “Sidney also seems to have an alibi.”

  “Damn right. He was with me on the night of the murder watching TV. He’s a good man.”

  Rosa didn’t find comfort in that situation as an alibi for the young Gainer.

  “I still have some interviewing to do and more leads to follow,” she said. “I’m confident, though, that I will eventually track down the killer. These things usually take time. It’s only been a few days.”

  Rosa wanted to sound upbeat, at least for now. The next time she reported to him, she would feign sounding frustrated. There could be a point where he would simply ask her to give up the chase and admit defeat. Especially when he suspected that she was getting close.

  “I’m sure you’ll solve this whole wretched thing in good time, Miss Reed. From what I can tell, we have managed to shut out the police completely. Keep up the good work!”

  Through the praise, Rosa detected the scorn in his voice.

  They said their goodbyes, and Rosa hung up the phone. A knock at her office front door claimed her attention, and she found a young man on the other side, dressed in a United Parcel Service uniform and holding a medium-sized box. “Special Expedited Delivery for Miss Rosa Reed.”

  Rosa signed for the parcel, took it back to her desk, and opened it to reveal a slightly smaller metal box with the words “Smith and Wesson” inscribed on it. Four smaller, green-colored cardboard boxes with “Remington” printed on the label were included. The delivery had come sooner than expected, but then it was only less than a day’s drive to Burbank, California, where the Smith and Wesson distributorship was located.

  Opening the metal box, she lifted out the brand-new Smith and Wesson Colt Cobra—a .38 Special revolver with a two-inch barrel—and slipped it out of the oilskin cloth. She felt the well-balanced weight of the gun, eyed the shiny blue finish, and admired the checkered walnut handgrip. She stared down the short barrel with her arm straight out in front of her and pointed at the lamp.

  Walter Gainer had called her Annie Oakley. Rosa had gone to see Annie Get Your Gun, the famous American musical comedy, with her parents in London when it had come to the cinema five years earlier. The actress Betty Hutton had received a Golden Globe nomination for best actress, and Rosa felt the award had been well-deserved.

  However, this was no musical nor a comedy. But this “Annie” had gotten her gun, and like the original western sharpshooter, she had a steady hand and a sharp eye. She wasn’t afraid of anyone, including rich tyrants and their unsavory offspring.

  Rosa met Miguel and Detective Sanchez on a bench overlooking Santa Bonita pier. Down below, was Sidney Gainer’s yacht, The Conqueror. All three wore sunglasses and sipped creamy milkshakes purchased from an ice cream shop just steps from the public bench where they sat—Detective Sanchez in the middle. For a few minutes, no one spoke, and the only sound was occasional slurping and the stirring of melting ice cream with the paper-made flex straws.

  Like three kids hanging out after school, Rosa thought.

  “Gee whiz, I wish I could afford a boat like that,” Sanchez mused.

  “Not me.” Miguel lifted the bottom end of the straw into his mouth and used it as a small spoon to get a chunk of ice cream. “I prefer my feet firmly on the ground.”

  Rosa glanced at Miguel as a memory flashed before her from over a decade before. She and Miguel, in the throes of their romance, had taken out a rowboat in this very bay. A larger boat had carelessly gone past them, creating big waves, and in moments, the rowboat had tipped over.

  It was when Rosa had learned that Miguel couldn’t swim.

  She’d saved hi
s life.

  He’d professed his love.

  And now, with the way Miguel had leaned forward and stared hard at her, she could tell he remembered too.

  They broke their locked gazes simultaneously and vigorously sipped on their milkshakes.

  Detective Sanchez remained unaware of the emotional quake that had just happened. “Say, I bet Larry Rayburn owns a boat.”

  Miguel kept his sights on the ocean, deftly refusing to look at Rosa again. Detective Sanchez knew Rosa’s connection to the assistant medical examiner, but like Larry, didn’t know about the history she and Miguel had once shared.

  Rosa sighed, lifted her glass to her mouth, and swallowed the last of her drink. She then tipped the large glass on its side on the bench beside her. Diego poked his head out of the satchel—red and white striped fabric, this time, to match Rosa’s summer dress—and immediately licked the remnants of the ice cream on the side of the glass.

  After a long beat, Miguel said, “Why do you say that about Rayburn?”

  Detective Sanchez shrugged a thick shoulder. “I heard he’s from Galveston. I heard sailing’s a big deal there.”

  Rosa confirmed the story. “He is. He was raised on the ocean.”

  “You would know,” Miguel muttered then slid Rosa a sideways glance that appeared apologetic. He was being unprofessional, and they both knew it.

  Detective Sanchez pointed to The Conqueror. “Hey, look, there he is.”

  The three watched as Sidney Gainer climbed out of his boat, stepped onto the pier, and turned to help a shapely brunette who wore a white bikini, step out of the boat. Detective Sanchez grabbed the binoculars beside him and adjusted them to focus. “Ooh la la, that is some naughty bathing attire!”

  “May I?” Rosa said, holding out a palm. She received the binoculars from Detective Sanchez and adjusted the lenses. “Hmm, now isn’t that interesting. That is definitely not his fiancée.” She followed the couple as they walked hand in hand along the pier to the shore and disappeared behind a block of apartments. “I bet he picked her up in San Diego.”

  “I wonder what this means?” Miguel said.

  “It means his ties to his fiancée might be negligible at best,” Rosa replied. “That’s good for us because, gentlemen, it means the chances of our little plan working have just improved.”

  18

  A short time later, Rosa parked right in front of Sidney Gainer’s grand house. Stepping through the gate, she walked with purpose down the long tiled walkway, then into the shaded alcove at the front door, and rang the bell.

  Rosa had expected a maid or butler to open the massive oak door, but it was Sidney Gainer himself who stood with a mild look of surprise on his attractive face. “Well, this is unexpected,” he said. “Please, come in.”

  He directed Rosa to the back of the house and onto a large wooden deck overlooking a small beach down below. The place offered a spectacular view of the ocean. Rosa took the proffered seat.

  “It’s always a pleasure to entertain an attractive lady in my humble home,” he gestured around him with a look of pride.

  “It certainly is a lovely view you have here,” Rosa said. “And it’s such a warm day. Do you think I could trouble you for a glass of water? I’m rather parched.”

  “Of course.” Sidney Gainer disappeared for a moment and came back with a small glass of iced water. Wearing short white gloves, Rosa accepted the glass and took a large gulp.

  “To what do I owe this nice surprise? Wait, you’re surely not going to tell me that you have found proof that I knocked off my uncle Dieter, are you?” He smiled and made a slight chopping motion with his right hand as if he were holding a hammer.

  Rosa’s blood ran cold. So sure of himself, she thought.

  “Well, not just yet,” she said without a hint of humor. “These things take time, you know.”

  Sidney blinked rapidly as his confident smirk slowly faded.

  Rosa offered a comforting smile. “Actually, you’re not really on the radar screen, at the moment. I mean, certainly your alibi—watching television with your grandfather and your fiancée—would be a hard one to crack.”

  A look of relief flashed behind Sidney’s eyes.

  “Speaking of your fiancée,” Rosa continued. “Debbie’s not here, is she?”

  “No. I’m afraid she’s out of town.”

  “Is she? Oh well, I would love to talk to her sometime.”

  “Yeah, well, she isn’t here, so—”

  “You’re alone, then?”

  For a split second, Sidney’s eyes darted over Rosa’s shoulder into the house. Rosa made a show of turning around to follow his gaze. She then stared at him with one eyebrow raised. His expression suddenly lost all congeniality.

  “What do you want, Miss Reed?” he said with a note of irritation.

  “Does the family know?”

  “Know what?”

  “About your affair. A pretty brunette, am I right?”

  “Have you been spying on me?”

  Rosa grinned at the man’s nerve to sound incredulous.

  “I’ve been hired by your grandfather to do whatever I have to do to track Mr. Braun’s killer. You are aware that you’re required to cooperate.”

  “Fine. What is it that you want?”

  “Relax, Mr. Gainer. I am investigating a murder. I’m quite uninterested in what you do in your private life unless it’s toppling over shelves in bomb shelters.”

  Sidney snorted.

  “Or going on late night walks out on the cabin pier.”

  He wouldn’t have known that the police had found the hammer. His eyes narrowed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Get to the point, please.”

  “You told me the other day about your dream of sailing your yacht around the world.”

  “Yeah, so,”

  “If I were you, I would get started on that right away.”

  “What?”

  “You must have somewhere you want to go. With all the money you made from…what is it called now? Saffron or something? You know, those interesting investments you’ve been involved with overseas.”

  Sidney glared. “How do you know about that?” His fingers formed tight fists and loosened again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Those are legitimate business interests.”

  “Yes. Very high returns from what I hear.”

  “Which is what makes it a good investment.”

  “Of course. Out of respect to your grandfather, I thought I should warn you that the police are tossing around the word Ponzi concerning you.”

  Sidney’s face went as white as the hull of a new boat bobbing on the bay.

  “Why me?” he muttered.

  Rosa shrugged. “I suppose the police have to pin it on someone, and your grandfather is too powerful. You must know that the FBI is involved, and should you be arrested, you could be looking at twenty years.”

  Sidney Gainer’s fingers flicked in and out of tight fists as his neck grew red with emotion.

  Fear? Anger?

  Rosa pushed the final button. With soft eyes, she leaned forward and touched his arm. “You just seem like a good man, Mr. Gainer, simply caught up in the wrong thing at the wrong time. Personally, I admire your courage and innovation. I just wanted to warn you, in case…”

  Rosa stood to leave. “I hear the weather in South America is very nice right now.” When Sidney shifted in his seat, she held out a palm. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. I can find my way out.”

  After she had met with Sidney Gainer, Rosa once again joined Miguel, who had returned to their spot on the bench overlooking the pier. His unmarked cruiser, parked a few feet away, had the windows down, and Rosa could just hear the chatter on the police radio. Dark clouds on the horizon moved in rather ominously, though the bay remained calm.

  Without greeting her, Miguel said, “Sanchez got clearance from the chief to commandeer a police boat and will be watching from a safe distance with the two-man crew. He hasn’t let me
know he’s in place, but I expect he will soon.” He cupped his eyes with one hand as he searched the horizon. “According to the forecast, the weather’s not going to be our friend today. If we’re lucky, we can get this done before the storm hits.” Miguel eyed Rosa’s satchel. “Did you get it?”

  Rosa produced a forensic bag wrapped in protective padded cloth. Inside the bag was a small drinking glass.

  Miguel’s expression cheered. “Bingo!” He walked the bagged drinking glass to his unmarked car and placed it in a metal evidence container. They just had to wait for lab results to show if Sidney Gainer’s prints matched the ones found at Dieter Braun’s bomb shelter and on the murder weapon.

  Rosa picked up the binoculars Miguel had left on the bench and focused on the yacht. The plan was simple, but if all went well, would lead to a break in at least one of the two investigations. It would be highly incriminating if Sidney Gainer were caught fleeing the country with suitcases and a passport in hand, especially after having just learned about the Ponzi investigation. And, after a short but dramatic police boat chase, it could even lead to a confession of the fraud. It would also prove a motive for killing Dieter Braun if Walter Gainer testified in court about Dieter Braun’s knowledge of the Ponzi scheme.

  “Oh,” Rosa said, as their mark came into her frame. “He’s here already, and he’s got a suitcase. No girlfriend, though. He must have ditched her or something. He seems in a hurry.” She handed the binoculars to Miguel.

  “Sanchez isn’t in place yet,” Miguel said.

  Rosa shot him a look. “If we wait, we could miss him.”

  “I know,” Miguel agreed.

  Rosa jumped to her feet. “Ahoy, Detective Belmonte! It’s time for a boat ride. Let’s execute the stowaway plan.”

  Miguel’s eyes went wide. “You know I can’t swim. I have a strong boat phobia!”

  In a flash to the past, Rosa was swimming through cold water, fighting the wake from a negligent yacht and the subsequent undercurrent. Her lungs burned from holding her breath, and her legs felt like noodles. She’d have given up, let herself float, trusting she’d eventually make it to shore except that Miguel’s dark head had disappeared under the water.