F is for Fred

by Rebecca Cantrell

  “I talked to her too,” Sofia said. “Do you know Beverly?”

  He snorted. “More than I want to.”

  She couldn’t really argue with that. Besides, now she needed to start steering the conversation. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “Everybody dies. Addicts faster than most.”

  Practical guy. She decided to be blunt. “Do you know what happened that night?”

  “I don’t think he needed a reason to shoot junk up his arm.”

  “But was there something that happened that night?”

  “One thing was weird.”

  She wanted to ask, but instead kept silent. He seemed to do better without questioning.

  “I have trouble sleeping.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’ll happen to you if you get old enough. Aging sucks.” He adjusted his cuffs. “Anyway, I was up early, around two, and I saw Mrs. Fantome stumbling out of the apartment. She slammed the door, shouted, nearly fell down the steps.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Red hair, taller than a normal man. Angry.”

  That did sound like her.

  “I might not have noticed if I hadn’t already been awake.”

  Awake and spying on his neighbors. A perfect witness. “Did you tell the police?”

  “They sent some young punk who was allergic to cats. He wouldn’t come inside. He barely spoke to me.”

  That sounded like a no. She’d talk to Brendan first, but then they’d send the police over to have a longer conversation with Mr. Jimenez. If it was a murder, they’d need to get his information.

  His story probably put Dr. Solov in the clear, but it implicated Yvette’s mom. What if her mother had killed her father? How could a kid recover from that?

  “I like your show.” Mr. Jimenez broke into her worries. “Wholesome.”

  “It was.”

  “Not everything I read about you these days is that way.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read,” she said. “I’m still pretty darn wholesome.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not.”

  They said goodbye and Sofia headed back to work. On her way out of the apartment block, she knocked on the other doors, but nobody else had seen anything that night. She did learn that nobody had liked Rhett Fantome. Even those who didn’t seem to know he was a drug dealer were irritated because he came and went at weird hours of the night and day. That tallied with Gray’s assertion that Rhett was a drug deliveryman.

  That left her with one eyewitness who implicated Yvette’s mom. Depressing. She drove back slowly, not in the mood to revel in the speed of her car. She didn’t even turn on any music. The smell of lilies lingered. It was like she was driving a hearse.

  Until she realized that Mr. Jimenez couldn’t have seen Yvette’s mom leaving Rhett’s house at two a.m. According to her sister Beth, they’d been watching Half Pint Detective together until three. If Beth could be trusted, then Mrs. Fantome had an iron-clad alibi. And Beth had sure seemed trustworthy.

  So who had the neighbor seen leaving the apartment? And had that woman killed him?

  Maybe Rhett Fantome had a type. Maybe all his girlfriends had been tall redheads. In LA, you could cultivate a taste for a very specific type of partner and Rhett was a drug dealer who might have clients who paid without using money. Maybe he had more than one angry redhead in his life. Or maybe she had nothing to do with his death.

  Either way, that left Dr. Solov and Mrs. Fantome in the clear.

  Alibis all round!

  Sofia felt so much better that she blasted her radio and sang along the rest of the way back to the office.

  30

  Brendan wasn’t there, but had left a note on her desk saying he was having lunch with a friend from the police department. He was working on Sunday, too. For murder, they put in the extra hours.

  Sofia had picked up sushi at the supermarket on the way over and she ate a piece. It wasn’t nearly as good as Nobu’s, but she couldn’t show her face there again for a while. And when she did, she’d have to see if Nemo Junior had survived Violet’s interference. If not, she’d spring for a new clownfish.

  It wasn’t cheap being Violet’s aunt.

  First, she wrote up a report detailing her conversation with Yvette’s Aunt Beth. She hadn’t thought to write up the conversation before, because it hadn’t seemed related to the case. After all, she’d only been there to check on Yvette. But now that her time with Beth had established Mrs. Fantome’s alibi, it was important.

  After that she wrote down everything she could remember from her conversation with Mr. Jimenez, including the red-haired woman leaving at around the time of Rhett’s death. She also put in his address, so that Brendan could forward it to the cops.

  It looked good for Dr. Solov. Unless maybe he’d dressed up in drag. He was about the same height as Mrs. Fantome.

  Anything was possible.

  She double-checked her reports and had just emailed them off when Aidan strolled in.

  “Here on a Sunday?” she asked. “Because I have some theories.”

  “Just here to get something.”

  “Are you sick? Taking the day off?”

  “It’s Sunday. I have a thing.” He took a folder off his desk.

  “What kind of a thing?”

  “A none-of-your-business thing. Don’t butt in.” He walked out of the door.

  None of her business? Don’t butt in?

  Challenge accepted.

  She grabbed her car keys and went to the door. Instead of going outside, she peeked through the window. Aidan got into the Lemon Drop and pulled out of the parking lot. Heading north.

  That was all she needed to know. Quickly, she set the alarm, locked the door, and hurried to her car. Aidan wouldn’t have got far, not the way he drove.

  As she pulled out and headed north, she spotted him right away. She hung back, keeping several cars between them, and poked along behind. The woman in the seat next to him had immaculate posture. She turned her head to talk to him. It was unmistakably Priscilla. She seemed to be talking and Aidan was shaking his head a little, like he wanted to say no but didn’t trust himself.

  Interesting.

  Sofia couldn’t believe that Aidan didn’t seem to notice her. She couldn’t decide if that should make her feel she was good at her job or a terrible friend.

  She hadn’t made up her mind when he got on the Pacific Coast Highway heading toward her trailer park. It wasn’t right to follow him, but something in her gut told her she had to. At least, it had spoken up strongly in the office, but now she was starting to doubt it.

  Probably he and Priscilla were out shopping for paint colors. Or wedding rings. Or picking out china patterns.

  But then Aidan turned onto the road that led to Dr. Solov’s clinic. Maybe he and Priscilla were looking for houses to buy and something was for sale on that street.

  Then Aidan pulled into the clinic’s nearly empty parking lot.

  31

  Sofia drove by, turned around out of sight, then parked halfway down the street by the house with the basketball hoop on autopilot. She sat in her car for a minute. The Lemon Drop was in the Solov Clinic’s parking lot, but she could see from here that he and Priscilla weren’t in it. They must have a good reason for that.

  * * *

  He was meeting with Mrs. Solov about something related to the case, just like she herself had done a few hours before with Rhett’s neighbors.

  He was going to interrogate Dr. Solov about his whereabouts.

  He was going to get some plastic surgery.

  * * *

  As much as she hoped for 1 or 2, she was pretty sure it was 3.

  That meant he really needed backup. And she didn’t think Priscilla was the right kind of backup. She ate a peanut and got out of the car. If she was questioned, she’d pretend to the guard that something was wrong with the check she’d picked up yesterday.

  But today ther
e was no guard. Maybe the place was closed on Sundays. It explained the empty parking lot, but it didn’t explain Aidan.

  Sofia thought about turning back, but the door was slightly ajar. It was like the universe wanted her to go inside. She went in.

  Even the lavender and the running water weren’t enough to keep her blood pressure from spiking when she saw Aidan and Priscilla at the front desk with Dr. Solov. She hurried over.

  “The scar will be bigger than the original pit,” Dr. Solov said.

  Aidan looked relieved to see her, but Priscilla didn’t.

  “Hi,” Sofia said awkwardly. No idea what to say or do next. It was Aidan’s head and he could choose to get rid of that tiny pit if he wanted to.

  “Put your phone on the table,” Priscilla said. “It’s policy.”

  Sofia dropped it next to two others, presumably Priscilla’s and Aidan’s.

  “Sofia Salgado!” Dr. Solov beamed at her. “I’ve always hoped you’d come in here.”

  “You have?”

  “Ever since I saw your show. You would be my greatest canvas.”

  She wasn’t sure if she was insulted or flattered. “I would?”

  “Your face.” He reached out and cupped her chin, turning her head from side to side. “It’s so very close to beautiful.”

  “And yet so far,” Priscilla said. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “I . . . No.”

  “You don’t need one. We can do a consultation right now. Just a slight adjustment of your nose, a little sculpting of your cheekbones. You would be a masterpiece.”

  It sounded like she’d look just like Mrs. Solov when he was finished. “I’m not really—”

  “Of course she’s not,” Priscilla said. “Aidan is the one with the appointment.”

  “I know he is,” Dr. Solov said. “I suggested it. With the current allegations, I need to expand my client base. We’re not usually open on Sundays.”

  “Then you’ll give us a discount?” Priscilla asked.

  “It’s all right,” put in Aidan. “I’m not sure anyway.”

  “It’s a complex surgery for a very small result.” Dr. Solov pointed at Aidan’s ear. “As I said, the scar will be more noticeable than the pit. I’m not sure what you’d gain.”

  “But can’t you just sew up that little hole?” Priscilla asked. “You’re a doctor.”

  “Absolutely not! The entire preauricular sinus must be removed. Otherwise he would be even more susceptible to infection, and it’s not easily drained. But to take it out, I’d have to make a significantly larger opening than what exists now.” He looked at Aidan. “You say you’ve had no trouble with infections?”

  “Never.”

  “But it looks unsightly,” Priscilla says. “Like an old piercing that never quite healed.”

  “It doesn’t look that bad,” Sofia said. “I never even noticed it until Aidan pointed it out.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” Priscilla made it clear that this was a character flaw. “But it’s the first thing a normal person sees.”

  “Really?” asked Aidan.

  “It’s not all I see,” Priscilla said, “but it mars your otherwise perfectly handsome face.”

  Aidan looked like Sofia had felt when the doctor told her she was so very close to beautiful. Flattered and a little pissed off. Good.

  “Now, Miss Salgado, let’s talk.” Dr. Solov beamed at her. “We should start with your nose. It’s a lovely nose, but rather pedestrian.”

  “Pedestrian?” She was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about people who walked around without cars.

  “Common. With just a little shaping, it would be extraordinary. Unique.”

  “Couldn’t you pull his sinus out through the back of his ear or something?” Priscilla asked. “Cut a slit back there and yank the whole thing through?”

  Aidan blanched. “Maybe—”

  “It’s one tiny blemish,” she said. “And then you’ll be perfectly handsome.”

  “A tiny thing,” Sofia said. “Like a little item on a checklist.”

  Aidan glared at her, but Priscilla smiled.

  “Exactly,” she said. “Like a tiny little item on a checklist.”

  “How big is that checklist?” Aidan asked.

  “A woman’s work is never done.” Priscilla looked at Sofia like she would back her up.

  “I’d be honored to work on your face, Miss Salgado,” said Dr. Solov. “Would you like to come into a consultation room?”

  “Mr. Maloney goes first,” said Priscilla. “He needs it more.”

  Aidan scowled. Sofia took it as a compliment.

  “Let’s have Aidan go first,” she agreed.

  “Just a consultation,” Aidan said.

  They all walked to the examination room. The office was like a ghost town. No one to be seen. No wonder Dr. Solov wanted to sign her up for a bunch of procedures. He’d need them to stay afloat. Especially since he clearly had no intention of doing Aidan’s ear.

  The examination room was small with all four of them in it. There was an examining couch that Aidan didn’t sit on, a round stool that Dr. Solov didn’t sit on either, and a table with three oversized resin models—an ear, a nose, and a breast.

  Dr. Solov picked up the giant ear and started to explain how Aidan’s procedure worked and why it was a bad idea. It sounded pretty gross, but Priscilla was fascinated. Sofia glanced at Aidan. He’d gone white.

  “Are you OK?” she asked.

  “I feel a little woozy.” He swayed back against the wall.

  Dr. Solov shoved him onto the examining couch before he passed out. “Easy now.”

  “Breathe with me,” Sofia said. “Square breaths. In for four, hold for four, out for four, wait for four.”

  Priscilla rolled her eyes.

  Sofia took a deep breath while counting. Aidan struggled to follow suit. Maybe he needed to breathe into a paper bag. That was supposed to help.

  “Let me give you something to help you to relax.” But instead of a paper bag, Dr. Solov handed Aidan a little white pill.

  “What is it?” Sofia asked.

  “Benzodiazepine,” he said. “It’ll calm him right down.”

  “Benzos?” Sofia asked. “Can you just give him that?”

  “I’m a doctor.”

  Dr. Solov sure was free with the drugs. Not hard to believe he’d been working with Rhett. And yet.

  Priscilla plucked the pill out of Aidan’s hand and tucked it into his mouth. “Swallow.”

  Amazingly, Aidan swallowed.

  “He can’t make any decisions with that in him,” Sofia protested. “Especially not about whether he should have surgery.”

  “He certainly can’t,” Dr. Solov said. “So let’s talk about your nose.”

  “You mean we have to come back?” Priscilla asked.

  “I’m not sure I want to,” Aidan said.

  “Of course you’re sure,” Priscilla said. “We talked about it.”

  “I know, but . . .” Aidan’s voice trailed off.

  Priscilla sighed. “Let’s go home. We can talk about it later.”

  “I want to stay here with Sofia,” Aidan said. “Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

  “Me?” Sofia asked. “Really? Me?”

  “Fine,” Priscilla snapped. “I’ll take your car, and Sofia can give you a ride home later.”

  She held out her hand. Aidan hesitated—he loved the Lemon Drop—then gave her the keys.

  “What if I don’t want to drive him home later?” Sofia asked.

  “Call him an Uber.” Priscilla flounced out of the examining room.

  Sofia couldn’t argue. Aidan definitely shouldn’t be driving.

  Dr. Solov picked up another model, this time a nose. “Let’s talk through some of your options, Miss Salgado.”

  Aidan giggled. The benzo must be hitting him. She couldn’t leave him here. Or even call him an Uber. She’d have to drag him down the street to her car and then home
to babysit him to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. But shouldn’t that be Priscilla’s job? She was the girlfriend and she’d been the one to pop that pill into his mouth.

  Life wasn’t always fair.

  “We can do a little shaping here.” Dr. Solov stroked the end of the nose model and smoothed it out. It did look better than before.

  “I’m not interested,” she said.

  “Not now,” Dr. Solov said. “Because you haven’t seen your options.”

  He handed her a lavender-colored binder.

  “Are you old enough for lavender?” Aidan asked. “It’s a granny color.”

  Both of them ignored him.

  “Page through as you like, but I think the best nose for you is number twenty-seven.”

  Sofia obediently paged to nose number twenty-seven. Donna Solov’s new nose. Clearly he liked that model.

  “How many people have this nose?” she asked.

  A bell tinkled delicately.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “Someone’s at the front desk. Just stay right here. Page through your options. Take your time.”

  He hurried out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  “You’re not really going to get your nose fixed?” Aidan asked. “I like your nose. It’s like a little ski jump.” And he giggled again. He was flat on his back staring at the ceiling.

  “Of course not,” she said. “What about you and your ear?”

  “I don’t really care anymore,” he said. “Either way.”

  “Can you stand up?”

  He eased onto his elbows, still mostly flat, then slumped back. “Nope. It’s OK. I like it here. It smells good.”

  This had “long day” written all over it.

  “What’s that smell?” he asked. “It’s flowery.”

  “Lavender,” she said. “We just went over that.”

  “Mmmmm.” He closed his eyes and sniffed.

  “I have this weird theory,” she said. “About who killed Rhett Fantome.”

  “Phantom,” he said, “of the Opera. Broken heart. He’s killed by a broken heart.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about this,” she said.