“That’s one way to interpret what went on today if we’re right that we had a run-in with the Cleaner Man. Maybe screaming with rage was his way of issuing a warning to back off before he attacked Nick.”
“It was more than a warning since he followed through on his attack,” Jerry observed.
“He made a point, though, didn’t he? None of us will be eager to return to that spot anytime soon.” Kim shrugged after she said that. “Unless we believe that’s the place to find him.”
“Even if he considers it his turf or is near where he hides out, you need to leave it to us to search more thoroughly if we decide that’s worthwhile,” Frank suggested. “If Nick’s close call isn’t a warning to stay away, I don’t know what is.”
“That’s true. Maybe we were intruding into the Cleaner Man’s territory, but why didn’t he go after Timothy Ridgeway?” I gave Frank a brief update about the circumstances involving Timothy Ridgeway’s arrest as I added beans and greens to Frank’s plate.
“I can’t explain the behavior of an unhinged man running around the desert in a cowboy outfit. Maybe it’s a coincidence you ran into Timothy Ridgeway and the Cleaner Man almost at the same time, but you know detectives don’t like coincidences,” Frank asserted. “Let’s eat. I’m as hungry as the rest of you. The review panel ran me through the wringer for hours. I didn’t have anything to eat except for a sandwich that wasn’t much better than whatever George could have picked up at the convenience store.”
“I agree. Less talking, more eating.” George raised his glass to Bernadette.
“Muchas gracias, Santa Bernadette. Esto es mucho mejor.”
“I haven’t even tasted it yet, but I’m sure he’s right. Muchas gracias from me too!” Frank put an arm around Bernadette, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. She giggled and pushed him away.
“That tickles! You should try the food before you thank me. The recipes sounded delicious when your mother gave them to me, but a mother’s love always adds to their goodness.”
“You’ve been a second mother to us all,” Betsy added. “To Bernadette, who somehow found the time to create a feast for us while helping to save the day from mal hombres in the Indio Hills.”
We all toasted Bernadette, who had indeed arrived just in time, with Brien driving, at the prodding of Betsy. Without the second vehicle, we would never have been able to get Nick out of there as fast as we did. At least not without stranding several of us.
Before we’d moved him, Nick had come around long enough for us to explain that we were going to drive him to the base of the trail where he could be transported to the hospital. By the time Bernadette, Kim, and I got him there, an ambulance was waiting nearby. Bernadette had ridden in the back seat of Nick’s dune buggy, tending to him as best she could while Kim helped me navigate the trail from the passenger seat.
Somehow, the others had managed to squeeze into the Jeep with Anastasia riding on Tommy’s lap. With Brien at the wheel, they weren’t far behind us when we returned to the dirt road leading to Nick’s neighborhood.
Nick had drifted in and out of consciousness as we barreled down the trail as fast as we dared. I did the best I could to help the EMTs understand what had happened to him. In addition to the ambulance, tribal police officers and a couple of George’s officers were waiting. A team of county crime scene investigators had also arrived. They answered my earlier question, confirming that their lab had sent a team to the crime scene the morning Sacramento’s body was found.
George turned Timothy Ridgeway over to his officers to hold at the Cathedral City Police Department until it was clear which jurisdiction would file charges against him. In August, it doesn’t get dark until after seven. That gave the crime scene investigators a couple more hours of daylight. Poor George headed up there once more to walk them through today’s events as they’d occurred. He also ordered them to recheck the entire area in case some evidence related to Sacramento’s murder had been missed, like the sheath Timothy Ridgeway had retrieved.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Frank asked.
“I’m so tired, my mind is wandering. I was thinking about how fortunate we are that everything worked out as well as it did.”
“I know you don’t need me to tell you how true that is. I’m going to lay off lecturing you. If you and the other Cat Pack members weren’t so pigheaded, I wouldn’t be alive and sitting behind a desk or anywhere else.” Frank paused, picked up my hand, and kissed it. “Still, you’d better eat to keep up your strength if you plan to run around in the desert heat again soon.”
“I’ve had enough of that for a while. Unlike you, I prefer sitting behind a desk. It’s easier on my wardrobe too. I had to throw another lovely dress in the garbage when I got home.” My stomach growled, and I dug into my food. As usual, it was sublime.
“Just like my momma and aunts used to make,” Frank said when his plate was almost empty. “More please.”
“Whoa! It’s about time!” Brien responded.
“Will you share the recipe for those greens so we can cook them at home?” Betsy asked as we passed the platters again, starting with Frank this time.
“I don’t think Evelyn will mind, do you?” Bernadette asked.
“Nope. In fact, it’ll make Mom as happy as a clam. Dad’s a meat and potatoes man, so she doesn’t fix greens like this often,” Frank replied. “I’m just sorry Peter can’t have dessert with us. I’ve helped my aunts bake that cake, and I can’t imagine any way you could create a vegan version of it.”
“Don’t feel sorry for Peter. He’s going to have dessert. I’m just keeping his brownies warm in case he wants that vegan ice cream he eats with them.”
“Brownies?” Brien asked in a wistful tone. “With ice cream?”
“Aw, don’t start drooling and whining. You can have ice cream with your cake if you want it.” Bernadette stood up and spoke to the rest of us.
“Brien’s another reason I waited until now to bring the brownies to the table because devouring everything in sight is Brien’s superpower. I’ll be right back, and then I’ll cut the cake.”
As Bernadette headed to the kitchen, I sprang into action, grabbing empty dinner plates and hauling them to the sink. Laura was on my heels with more of them.
“I knew I smelled chocolate. Now I smell coffee. Did you already fix that too?” I asked.
“Yep. In the coffeemaker with the timer that your mom bought. If you used that press pot you love, we’d be done eating cake by the time you got enough coffee made for everyone.”
“No way would they wait for me, that’s for sure. You think of everything, don’t you?” I asked.
“Yes, she does!” Laura added as we double-teamed Bernadette with hugs and kisses.
The cake and coffee had me buzzing by the time we’d finished dessert, and I was ready to go another round with the Cat Pack about the mystery behind Louie Jacobs’ case.
“Unless someone needs more coffee, I’d like to make sure we’re all on the same page about everything that went on today. I’ll do an overview, keeping it as brief as I can, starting with my meeting this morning with Betsy. If I miss anything important, please jump in. After that, I’d like to let George tell us anything else he wants us to know before he returns to work.”
“I do have to go back, don’t I?” George sighed as he asked that question. “Since we’re all familiar with the background on Louie Jacobs’ situation, starting with Betsy and Mr. Oliver, who’s now a guest of the authorities in San Bernardino County, seems reasonable. I’ll say more about him when it’s my turn.”
“Go for it,” Tommy said, urging me on. “Don’t forget that we still owe Anastasia a dance.” Anastasia had been snoozing under the table near my feet. When she heard her name or the word dance, her head popped up next to Tommy from under the table. When she rested her head on his arm, Tommy almost gave in. “Aw, it won’t be long now, Princess. I’m too full to boogie and we have news to share. Then it’s party time!”
“You’re up,” I said to George when I’d finished. I was almost out of breath by then trying to get through the eventful day. All eyes were on George, who had been so quiet I wondered if he’d dozed off. I should have known better.
8 Pandora’s Box
“My first surprise was that Mr. Oliver was there when I arrived at the shelter where Betsy had taken him,” George said. “My second surprise was that he was reasonably coherent. I guess he’d had time to eat and sober up.”
“Or he was calmer because he felt safe,” Betsy added. “I’ve already told you that.”
“I remember. I’ll give you credit for getting him to talk to me. His story sounded much the same as the one he’d told Betsy earlier.”
“Did he say anything about knockout gas, tea, or a hypodermic needle?” I asked.
“His comments were along the lines of what Louie Jacobs told you—the Cleaner Man does something to you, and he mentioned a funny smell. I didn’t know enough then to ask him if it was like ether or rubbing alcohol. He didn’t call it tea, but Xavier Oliver said he was sure there’s something in the powder the Cleaner Man gives you to drink. A homeless buddy gave him some to try. Mr. Oliver didn’t like the way it tasted or affected him.”
“By how it affected him, does he mean it messed with his head or that he had stomach trouble like Louie did?”
“He was ‘whacked out,’ whatever that means to an old meth addict. Xavier said his stomach problems were the worst part of his experience, and he was sicker even than when he used peyote. Our pal was also ticked that he had no visions but bad dreams instead. Even the next day, Xavier was too sick to eat,” George responded. “It was so bad that Mr. Oliver threw the rest of the powder his friend gave him away.”
“Shoot!” I said. “We need a sample of the powder to figure out what’s in it.”
“He did the right thing, though. Louie should have done that,” Kim added. “From the way you described Xavier Oliver, Betsy, he sounded as skinny as Louie. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried it even once.”
“Unlike Louie Jacobs, Xavier Oliver does have a history of methamphetamine abuse,” Betsy said quietly. “He’s been thin for a long time, and he didn’t try that powder until a few days ago. It’s probably too late, but George ordered a tox screen to be done once Mr. Oliver was safely relocated. We’d have a better chance, though, if the police department would pay for a more extensive toxicology analysis. That’s expensive, though, and not cost-effective since it might not produce any useful results.” George nodded in agreement.
“I’ve already used extra bucks from our informants’ fund to hide Mr. Oliver in San Bernardino and to get blood and urine samples collected to run the basic test. I’ll see what I can do.”
“There may be another way,” Peter suggested. “If you can get someone in the San Bernardino police force to collect samples from Xavier Oliver and have them sent to me, I’ll forward them to the lab that’s already familiar with the situation. Procedurally speaking, if they find anything, you’d have to have the samples retested at a police lab, and that still might not be enough for any findings to be used in a trial. At this point, I feel it’s urgent we find out what we’re dealing with before anyone runs into this guy again. That was cutting it too close today.”
“Why not? Procedurally speaking, we haven’t even opened a case against the Cleaner Man or Mr. Oliver’s homeless pal, who he insists is missing because the Cleaner Man has done something to him. Mr. Oliver asked for help because he was terrified that he’d vanish next.”
“Is the missing friend the guy who gave Xavier the powder he sampled?” I asked to be clear.
“Yes. His friend, Clark, was supposed to meet him last night, but didn’t show up.”
“Clark, as in Clark Kent, like Superman’s secret identity?” Brien asked, with his interest piqued.
“The shelter staff knows him as Willard Clark,” Betsy responded. “He’s a regular, and they were concerned when he didn’t show up this past weekend. Before that, they were already worried about how much weight Willard Clark had lost. Until Xavier Oliver told them that he’d seen Clark over the weekend, they were concerned he might have died from the summer heat or an illness.”
“Xavier Oliver says Clark wasn’t eating much, so he made his friend promise to meet him for dinner at a cheap taco place in Indio,” George added, picking up the story. “When Clark didn’t show, Xavier went looking for him. All he found was the little white Bible the Cleaner Man had told Willard Clark to give to Xavier Oliver.”
“Did he tell you where he went to look for him?”
“Yes. Until he disappeared, Willard Clark spent much of his time in a cardboard lean-to on a tract of land not far from the casino. There used to be a date palm grove on the property, but most of the grove was destroyed in a fire. I asked a friend who works for the Indio Police Department to send someone out there and see if he could find Willard Clark, his remains, or anything that suggests foul play. Since I haven’t heard from him, I assume no one found Willard Clark—dead or alive.”
“If you do hear anything, you’ll give us an update, won’t you?” I asked. George shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“You’re not going to like this, but after everything that went on today, I wonder if I’m doing you all a favor by keeping you informed. Peter’s right to be worried. This is no ordinary perp.”
“Yeah, we know—he’s a supervillain.” A sound escaped from George’s throat—almost a growl—as Brien uttered those words. “What? I’m not saying the Cleaner Man has a satellite death ray he’s about to put into orbit to destroy the world. I’m agreeing with you, though, that the Cleaner Man’s not just any psycho. Good luck getting anyone else to believe you.”
“Well put,” Kim said. “Until you’ve got more evidence to convince your colleagues or bosses that the Cleaner Man exists, and you can get them to understand how dangerous he is, we’re all you’ve got.”
“Kim and Brien are right,” Jerry said. “Unless you think you can find the supervillain and take him down all on your own.”
“I wouldn’t advise trying to do that,” Betsy suddenly said. She’d been so quiet since she joined us, I wondered if she was still dealing with a headache.
“This is a weird situation—even for you guys,” George muttered. “I just don’t want dead Cat Pack members on my conscience.”
“Hey, you know cats have nine lives,” Tommy responded, hissing and clawing at the air.
“So far, the Cleaner Man’s the one who’s been doing all the effective hissing—with his knockout gas or whatever the heck it is.” Frank folded his arms before he continued speaking.
“George, on the one hand, I know you mean well because I’d like to warn them off too. On the other hand, how much of what we’ve discussed could I get anyone else to believe? I’m sure there’s a cunning, deranged killer on the loose, but what proof do I have other than statements from a convicted murderer and a homeless methamphetamine user? I have my doubts that Louie Jacobs murdered his friend, so Jessica’s doing the right thing by trying to help him. I don’t want her to stop that. Besides, you know they’re going to do what they want to do, no matter what we say.”
“Thanks for acknowledging that Louie Jacobs’ entire life hangs in the balance,” I said. “I’d rather not have to deal with the Cleaner Man, but I don’t see what option we have except to keep digging until we come up with something more tangible about what really happened to Sacramento Lugo. At the risk of offending my two favorite detectives in the whole world, if the police had done a more thorough investigation of Sacramento Lugo’s murder in the first place, we might not be in this situation.”
“Not that it has anything to do with the two of you since you weren’t in on the initial investigation,” Bernadette added sweetly. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that we’re not the only ones who are in danger. Nobody’s safe from a man like him.”
“That’s enough!” George said, putting his hands up in
a gesture of surrender. “I know when I’m beat, and I’ve done my duty to warn you. My only request is that you stay clear of Louie’s hangout up there in the Indio Hills. The knife sheath we found on Timothy Ridgeway is tangible evidence that something went wrong with the first investigation. His erratic, obstructive behavior is too. My next move is to have another conversation with Timothy Ridgeway. His lawyer asked for time to meet with him alone, so we haven’t even taken his formal statement. Since the sheath he had concealed in his waistband was brand new, I bet there’s a recent purchase by Timothy Ridgeway that can tie him to the murder weapon. That’s assuming Sacramento Lugo really was stabbed to death.”
“If you can do that, it ought to be a reason to reopen Louie’s case. I don’t know how long I can keep Louie in the hospital, but I hope it’s long enough to prevent him from being moved to Calipatria. Did Timothy say anything to you about whoever it was who showed up while he was retrieving that knife sheath?”
“I got a ‘how should I know?’ when I asked who it was. Then Officer Ridgeway suggested I talk to Louie and Sacramento’s trouble-making pals. He claims Sacramento wasn’t the only person who hung out there with Louie Jacobs. When I asked him who he was talking about, he got surly and said the Indio Police and the Sheriff’s Department already know who they are. I didn’t see any names in my copy of the file from Sacramento’s murder investigation. Denise Austin and Julio Mendez filed the police report after they were called to the scene that morning. I assume they’re also the ones who gathered the information about the fact Louie and Sacramento had been fighting earlier in the evening.”
“Even though I’m back on duty, the department’s taking it easy on me for a while. Jessica already asked me to catch up with Officers Austin and Mendez and find out why the murder weapon didn’t show up until the next day,” Frank offered. “I don’t know them personally, but I’ve heard they’re both good officers, and I’m meeting with them tomorrow. They must have recorded the names of the witnesses to the fight between Louie and Sacramento. If the case had gone to court, at least some of the witnesses would have been asked to testify. Given how quickly the case was closed, I’m not too surprised the names never made it into the official record before the case was closed.”
A Dead Nephew Page 9