“Maybe you could give me a ride home,” she bit her bottom lip. I felt hot. My blood ran like the fire up at Fallen Springs. I wanted to grab her by the jaw and kiss her. I knew better.
“Maybe you could answer my question,” I said sipping some more whisky.
“What question is that?”
“The one where I said let’s play pretend that you never saw the missus standing over the mister. Let’s see if Lorenzo might have done it. What do you think about that?”
She strolled back over to the other side of the bar but not before looking at me over her shoulder and saying something about wanting to play something else. I let that one fly by me, not even watching it swoosh by. I raised my eyebrows at her.
“No way. Lorenzo pretty much keeps to himself. Besides, like I told you before. Mr. Ernst was a good man okay. He treated us real good. He played me good,” she giggled again. I could get used to that in my ear. “I mean he paid me good, and I’d bet he paid Lorenzo good too. Go ask him.”
“I will when I get a chance.”
“So Mr. private dick.” She stopped on that last k and shut it closed on my ear softly. Like we were all alone and the door barely clicked. “Will you take me home please?”
Usually I like to help out a damsel in distress. But this wouldn’t help me out any. Sometimes you’ve got to look a gift horse in the mouth or it might kick you in the teeth. I didn’t need a kick in the teeth this early in the case.
“Maybe when it’s all done and we’ve got the murderer locked away nice and safe. Then I’ll give you a ride home, and you can show me some tricks.”
She pouted at me. That bottom lip a freshly cut strawberry. I realized I was hungry. Food would have to do. I swallowed the last of my Scotch. It didn’t help. I was still salivating.
“Where can I find you hun? If I want to give you that ride sometime.”
She took a pen and paper out of a kitchen drawer and wrote something on it. She handed it to me. Her writing was loopy and big and gregarious. It said Maria Rodriguez. Five five five three four three five it said. Next to it was a heart not quite matching up perfectly with an x and an o underneath it. I thought I saw ‘for a good time’ in invisible ink. Another artist.
I folded it up carefully and put it in my shirt pocket. Maybe it was warm there lying next to my beating heart. Maybe it was me.
“Thanks Maria. I’ll be off now.”
“Call me,” she said, “dick,” she said.
I didn’t look back at her. I wasn’t sure of myself just then. Wasn’t sure where I was going. The house was too big. The neighborhood too extravagant. In a different time I might’ve taken her up on her generous offer. But I figure with a woman like that I wouldn’t be the first. Probably not even the only one. And I’m special. Aren’t we all?
THREE
In A Thicket Of Weeds
I figured I’d drive around a bit. Take in some of the lovely, hazy sites in the neighborhood. Actually I just needed to clear my mind. I had a feeling I was heading straight into a hornet’s nest. Cute little Maria. I didn’t know what her angle was but I didn’t think she liked the missus much. I drove back down from where I came from. It was four so I put on KJAZZ. Jack Devaney was on with nothing but the blues. A good man that Jack. He doesn’t lie about his programming. I headed down the four oh five to the ninety and onto the Via Marina. I was heading down towards Pacific Avenue. I parked my car facing the inlet. I watched the boats come and go into the Marina Del Rey. There’s a song in there someplace. But it wasn’t the blues I was listening to. A lot of folks with too much money and too little sense steering their boats in and out. Like throwing money in the ocean, I heard a fella say once. He was talking about his boat. But if you’ve got too much money I guess it doesn’t matter.
It was hot. I unbuttoned my shirt. Maria’s note was burning her numbers on my chest. That, or it was the smoggy sun. I opened the windows wide and turned the stereo up. Lead Belly was singing “Midnight Special”. A poignant song that. My siren song I figured. Somebody was going to end up headed to prison soon. I sang along with the chorus. I could use some light shining on me. This case was likely not as simple as it seemed. I should leave it to the cops. But Jeff likely wouldn’t like that.
I blew smoke out the window. It didn’t waiver. I didn’t either. I had my eye on the prize. I just didn’t know what the prize was. A guy probably in his sixties with a copper body was steering his yacht back to harbor. He had a big fat cigar stuck in his mouth. His hair was gray curls that looked like they might have been shaved off steel tubing. His body was naked except for a small silver Speedo. He had gray hair on his chest and a big gold chain around his neck. Bling, bling I think they call that now. He had skinny legs and a big belly. Life had been good to him. His wife was lying on a thin mattress on the bow. She was more modest. A full pink swimsuit. She looked like a beached seal. Her hair was the copper of her husband’s body. She was reading a novel. Couldn’t tell what it was. Maybe one of those mysteries that make it regularly to the bestseller lists. Maybe it was “The Overlook” I had read about this morning.
I had a good mystery. I wondered if she’d read about it. I watched them for a while. Then I squashed my butt out in the ashtray. It was getting full. I took it out and dumped it in a close garbage can. There was a young couple in a convertible Mustang making out. I thought I’d give them some privacy. Besides I was getting hungry and I didn’t figure that Raffles was the kind of place for my palate. I was hungry for steak and Sonny McLean’s was the place for me. I headed down Pacific Avenue and made my way up Wilshire Boulevard to that place where most people know my name.
I dragged my tired ass into the place. It was getting busy. It was coming on five and I didn’t have much time. I wedged myself up against the bar and ordered my steak sandwich. Guinness was my appetizer of choice. I was thirsty and Scotch wouldn’t cut it. Besides I felt Irish. I was Irish. And sometimes you had to “represent” as the cool kids say. I looked at some of the old black and white photos of the old country. I didn’t recognize them. Maybe that’s because I’ve never been to the old country. I plan to. When I have the money.
I’m Irish like a lot of my friends I know are Jewish. It’s more of a cultural heritage thing. I wasn’t born there. My pops was. I’m just more Irish than anything. Maybe because of my temper. Maybe it’s got more to do with rooting for the underdog. Whichever way you like it, I’m Irish. I’d asked Brian the barkeep to hustle the sandwich. They’re good to me that way. I figured it wouldn’t take longer than twenty minutes to get to Raffles. Maybe more if I parked around the block from it. They might not like the look of my car too close. Depends if I was in one of those moods. I hadn’t decided yet.
My steak came and I started feeling magnanimous. Maybe I’d see if I couldn’t get valet too. That’d be an expense that Jeff could pay. I liked that the more I thought of it. I liked it the more I chewed on my sandwich and drank my beer. I finished up with twenty minutes to spare. Sometimes I wonder if I’m not Swiss. Punctual like clockwork. You can set your watch by me. I left Andrew at the bar for Brian. I left the coleslaw on my plate too. But the beer was finished.
It didn’t take me too long to get there. About those twenty minutes I had figured. I pulled into a parking stall off of west third just back behind the hotel. My car didn’t fit in too well. But it tried its best. I had cleaned it the week before. I figured that made it look a couple of years younger. I might have tried that myself. Except I only had time to grab a tie and jacket when I stopped at home. I had on gray slacks, the blue shirt from earlier which could’ve been changed and a blood red tie. I had grabbed my navy blue sports coat. It would have to do. The tie was loud, maybe distracting. And just maybe that might help.
I found myself in the lobby at a few minutes after six. Nice thing about most hotels is you can walk in there and act like you belong. They had the signs clearly marked to the Terrace. With deft eye movement I walked around the lobby to the elevator as if I’d been her
e a dozen times. I hadn’t. But I played the part.
I nodded at the maitre d.
“Can I help you sir?’
“No thanks, I’m just browsing,” I caught his raised eyebrow as I scanned the terrace. A lady in red raised her hand and gave it a little wave like the Queen does. I nodded at her.
“I’ve found what I was looking for,” I said to Jean Paul, so his name tag said as I brushed by him. I wasn’t that underdressed I noticed.
Vanessa gestured to the chair. I sat myself down it, unbuttoning my jacket. It was warm out here. Vanessa was taking advantage of that and showing ample skin. She was a tall slim woman with just a bit too much makeup. Her lips were the same painted red as her dress. Not as dark as my tie. Leaning more towards the orange than the blood. The dress had two thin spaghetti straps with a wide and deep v neck. The dress was draped over her ample bosom. Looked plastic to me. Probably cost more than my car. I could see her nipples as two smart buttons. If I had to guess I’d say the back of the dress was open all the way down to her dimples. I wanted to find out. I had a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. Her arms were the color of a frothy cappuccino. Her nails were the same red as her mouth and lips. She was an attractive woman, but she had hard steel eyes. Crow’s feet etched out from the sides of them, and her mouth had creases at each corner. It was warm out on the patio, but she was cold. Didn’t look like she smiled much.
“Thank you for joining me Mr. Carrick.” Not even a smile. I noticed an open packet of Lady Slims on the table next to her side plate. They had red filters. The color of my tie.
“The pleasure is all mine Ms. Ernst.” I gave her my best movie star smile. She smiled, or winced back. I couldn’t tell.
“Please call me Vanessa, Mr. Carrick.”
“Please call me Anthony, Vanessa.”
Another wince from her. Things were going so well I thought I might see if I couldn’t get in to see a dentist after this. A waiter dressed as a penguin came by and poured water in a glass next to me.
“A menu sir?” he asked.
“No thanks just a Stella.”
He bowed and left discreetly. Vanessa took a sip of her wine. Red of course. I started thinking maybe a pink or yellow tie might have been more becoming.
“I like your tie Anthony,” she said.
“I like your dress. If I’d have known, I would have worn my red suit.”
“Are you always this facetious?” she asked.
“When I’m out of my element.” Another wince. I wanted to see if I could get her to flash those pearly whites. They probably cost a lot too. Maybe too much to offer me a glimpse.
“I had a look at your house today. Seems like it might be coming on the market soon?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well I don’t imagine you’ll want to be staying there by yourself anymore. Especially since your husband was murdered there.”
My voice might have carried a bit too far. I saw an older couple glance up at me and murmur something.
“Mr. Carrick. Some discretion please?” She sipped more wine. The waiter came by with my Stella in its namesake glass. He put a plate of weeds in front of her with some sort of fish. Could’ve been salmon, but they’d done things to it I didn’t understand.
“I spoke with Maria. Did you hire her?”
“No,” she said between a mouthful of weeds. “That was Max’s idea. He liked to have young help around. Especially female.”
“Why? Are they harder workers because they’re younger?” I smiled at her again. I was a card. She smiled at me this time and I saw white. Yup, expensive teeth.
“You’re cute Anthony. No, Max hired her because she was easy to bed. You have to understand that Max wasn’t happy with just me. He needed other… distractions.”
She picked at her salad. I sipped on my beer. The glass was sweating. I wasn’t. I could get used to being up here on the Terrace. I thought I’d try another angle.
“Maria tells me she saw you standing over Max with the bloody statue in your hand.”
She looked sternly at me. I leaned in to bathe in it. She raised her eyebrow. I raised her two.
“Mr. Carrick,” maybe she didn’t like my first name, “Maria and I hardly saw eye to eye.”
“So you’re saying you saw things differently. See, Maria thinks you killed your husband.” No point beating around the bush. Might as well go for the jugular.
“Well I didn’t Mr. Carrick. I’ll be honest with you. I didn’t like Maria. I mean come on. She was screwing my husband and not being very discreet about it. But she is right about one thing. I was in the den when she saw me. I wasn’t holding the statue, it was on the corner of the desk and I hadn’t been there very long. Maybe thirty seconds.”
She ate more weeds. Same kind I see in the cracks on the sidewalk. I drank more beer. The earth spun on its axis and the fires in Fallen Springs probably still burned on.
“Did you say anything to her?”
“Yes I did Anthony. I told her to call the damn police. Someone had just killed my husband. Now we may not have been very close but he was still my husband. And we were married twenty years. That counts for something.”
I nodded. It did count for something. But I couldn’t figure out the math. The waiter came back and poured more wine for Vanessa from the half liter carafe on the table. I took another Stella.
“Did your husband have a will?”
“Yes he did Anthony and there’s no need to be coy with me. You know more than you’re letting on. Let’s cut the nonsense and let’s both start being honest with each other.”
“You have a point. If you want me to be blunt, I can be blunt. It’s nothing personal Ms. Ernst, but I’ve been asked to find your husband’s killer. And that might be you.”
“That’s better Anthony. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
We were, but not exactly where I wanted to be going. I tore a piece off of a crusty roll in the middle of the table. I didn’t bother with the butter.
“So Ms. Ernst. Are you the sole beneficiary of your husband’s estate?” I was chewing the roll. This was good bread.
“No. I know he left at least ten percent to our son. But he can’t access that until he’s thirty. But he still has a trust that he recently had access to now that he turned twenty one. He just got thirty three percent of five million. When he turns twenty five he can have another thirty three percent of this five million and again when he turns thirty he’ll receive the remaining thirty three percent.”
She went back to picking at the weeds. She’d made quick work of the salmon. She took a sip of wine. She wasn’t drinking deeply or quickly, but the wine was disappearing. I admired her bosom. I admired her lipstick print on the glass. I caught myself admiring, so I looked out at the dusky vista.
“So Vanessa, what kind of estate are we talking about?”
She looked at me for a moment not sure if she was going to spill. She looked away into the distance, trying to figure it out. Or trying to decide if she was going to tell me.
“Not that it’s any of your business Mr. Carrick, but seeing as how we’re being honest, you must know that my husband was a very successful producer. He made over two dozen films amongst other things like television. We’re talking of roughly fifty million dollars Mr. Carrick.”
The way she said that. The way the second syllable of my name banged closed I knew I wasn’t going to see any of that. I wasn’t disappointed. The price would have been too high anyhow. I drank some Stella. Maybe I should have ordered something. Seeing as how I was the guest. Might as well get a sniff of what money can by. Then I thought better of it.
“That’s a bit of green Vanessa. That would give a person pause to kill someone. Especially if they were about to be axed.”
I’m not a good fisherman. But I figured these waters were shallow. I might get a bite. The penguin came by again with my Stella. I thanked him. He bowed himself away.
“What did Maria tell you Anthony? You should
be looking more closely at her. She probably thought she’d be in the money. But she’s not.”
I chewed some more bread. I drank some more beer.
“Everyone’s a suspect. Only she saw you at the scene first. Hard to have killed him when she found you looking over his dead corpse. She tells me that if you and Max were getting divorced you’d lose everything. Is that right?”
“Not exactly. But I sure wouldn’t be getting anywhere close to the fifty million or so. And anyway, we weren’t even considering divorce. I told you before. We were loyal if not the most compatible. Max had his needs and I gave him some leeway in that regard.”
Vanessa finished up the weeds and tore a bit off of the roll on her side plate. She dabbed butter on it and popped it in her mouth. She had a nice mouth. Nice and pink. Nice white teeth. Mine could use a cleaning and probably a spit shine.
“Did he also give you some leeway Ms. Ernst. For your needs.”
I accentuated the last word. We were being so proper with one another. Honest, yeah sure. But not direct. The waiter came by. I noticed his name this time. Matthew. He whisked away her plate and left in its place a dessert menu. You sure get service to match the prices here. Vanessa’s eyes flared. That was the first bit of warmth I’d seen in them all night.
“Sure Mr. Carrick. I have needs too. You can’t live in a barren marriage without needing some passion Mr. Carrick. Not that you’d know anything about that.”
That smarted. But I was a big boy. I got over it. I waited for her to carry on. Time wondered by like an arthritic man on a walker. Vanessa couldn’t stand the sight of it. Most people can’t.
“I have a lover… or two, Anthony,” we were friends again, “but we need to be discreet. Her name is Jane Greenway. She’s a very dear and old friend.”
“Could I talk to her?”
“Yes.” She fished into a red purse that had been sitting by her feet that I never saw. While we were at it I guessed her feet would have red painted toes in an open high heeled red shoe with thin straps around the ankle. I had to have a peek. I did. They were. I was right. Atta boy, back in the game. She raised an eyebrow at me again. I looked past it. She wrote something down on a piece of paper but didn’t hand it to me.
Anthony Carrick Hardboiled Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3) Page 3