“Yeah right. Kids with too much money, no common sense and very little talent. Oh the society we’ve created.”
“Hey, you don’t want to get me started on that buddy. I’ll go one on one with you and we’ll be here all day bitching and moaning.”
“Sure, you’re right. We need to go for beers again just me and you.”
“We will Sid. You betcha we will. Anyway, I’ve got this info for you here.”
“Okay shoot.”
“Well she’s just a little firecracker. We’ve got her here as consistently five two and around a buck or buck oh five. Just a small thing, but fiery though. Her hair changes from platinum blond to red to jet black. Maybe she does wigs or just changes it around a bit for her clients. Hey listen to this. Here’s an opinion one of the guys who arrested her for assaulting one of her colleagues had to say about her. ‘She’s a small ball of fury. Officer Mencken recommends that all members bring their fire retardant kid gloves when dealing with the accused. She has no respect for the police but was still willing to offer the officer oral sex for disregarding the charges. Tempting, but this officer would rather wrestle a nest of vipers while naked.’ You’ve gotta love that.”
We both laughed out loud. “At least he’s got a sense of humor about it.”
“Yeah except if she starts asking for this report and takes him to IA. I appreciate his sense of humor but he could be putting himself in a spot if she gets wind of this. So do me a favor and don’t mention this to her.”
“Oh I don’t know. I think Mencken is looking for the limelight.”
“Seriously Anthony. On the down low. I shouldn’t be sharing any of this with you anyway, capiche?”
“Yeah I got you. I’m just trying to mess with your hangover buddy.”
“Don’t, I’m working on fumes here and I’m sucking air.”
I looked for the sign to the washroom. I needed to be heading right there anytime now. I saw someone come out of it and noticed that you had to put in a quarter to unlock it. Not a good way to keep out the vagabonds. Panhandling will easily net you a couple of dollars an hour or more.
“Listen Sid. We got a hit on the prints from the Oscar. Guess whose were on it?”
“That’s easy John, it was the wife Vanessa. There’s no guessing there.”
“You’re right. Come on back Anthony, we need your help. We just can’t solve any homicides without your guidance and expertise.”
“Very funny. But why you telling me that Vanessa’s prints are on the Oscar.”
“Because she’s now become our number one suspect. You know how it goes Anthony. She was found by the housekeeper holding the statue standing over the body of her deceased husband who the coroner says was bludgeoned to death by that very same statue.”
“How nice for you. I’m going to pack up now and call my employer and tell him that LA’s finest have solved the case. Jeez Johnny, I need the money, I need the work, you shouldn’t be too quick to close these files.”
“Hey you know how it goes. We’re gonna bring her in some more, we’ve got to cover the bases, we don’t have the luxury of going willy nilly where we want. The public’s watching us. But something you might find interesting is that there were a couple of really good prints and that’s all. Nothing else. Now unless that statue was cleaned regularly you might think you’d find someone else’s prints on it. Maybe Max’s even. But nothing. Also you’d think with the force of the blows that these prints of the person bludgeoning him to death would be blurred or smudged as they swung it and hit him with it. But nothing. It’s like it was just picked up by Vanessa, but not swung or used. Do you know what I’m saying? The prints are too perfect for what you’d expect.”
“Yeah, but still, you’re gonna bring her in and throw her in the ringer to cover all your bases. To show due diligence. I told you I didn’t think she did it. That’s another freebie from me to you.”
“Yeah well Sid, you know how it goes. We’ve got to follow the path even if we think we’re on a dead end. I’m scratching your back. Now you go out there and scratch mine.”
“Will do Chief.”
“Not likely. I’m not interested in that job.”
“Listen John, I just had an interesting interview with one of Max’s lovers. Jade Sky, I was telling you about her last night.”
“Yeah I remember.”
“Well I don’t think she did it. She’s at least got a good alibi that can easily be verified. She was out shopping and dining and going to the movie with a friend. That can be verified with the friend. With debit transactions etcetera. So there’s another one that’s on the house. Seems like you’re building up a pretty good sized debt with me.”
“Nothing the LAPD can’t pay out Anthony.”
“Anyway, just thought I’d share. Seeing as how we’re scratching each other’s back lately and all.”
“Thanks Sid. A little further down and to the left if you don’t mind.”
“Well thanks for the address buddy. I’m gonna go and see if I can’t have a chat with her.”
“Alright. Talk later.”
I hung up on him and limped over to the bathroom. I didn’t have a quarter but my luck was turning. I slid in for free just as an older retired gentleman was leaving. Life never looked so good.
TWENTY
A Leaf, A Shiver And A Quiver In The Bow
THE sun was shining and the haze was lifting. I couldn’t smell smoke anymore, literally. But I figured I was getting close to the fire. The whodunit and whydunit. If all went well I’d have a pretty good idea by the end of the day today. After I’d seen Leaf or Gretchen, and Sulan.
I smiled at a young woman in yoga pants that fit her like skin. She smiled back and I got into my car feeling very pleased. I was heading down the right path. John was getting bungled up in policy and protocol, or maybe he was just trying to give me a hand. Either way, I’d get a good reference from this gig. It was ten thirty and I lit a cigarette. The smoke burned my eyes. I didn’t like that. I waved it away like an annoying gnat. White rabbit I said. That’s supposed to help. Something I learned as a kid when I started smoking. Seemed to work. At least that’s what superstitions will do for you.
I started my car and pulled out onto Santa Monica Boulevard heading east. I had my elbow out the window. My left elbow, and it’s hand was clutching my cigarette. I’m right handed but I was using my right hand to drive. Not so easy to take a drag that way and still drive. I understand the LAPD frowns on people steering with their knees. It was a good day to take a drive down the PCH. But I was working. Maybe tomorrow if everything wrapped up nice and tight.
I was thinking about Emily. I could see her in my mind’s eye. What a vision. Her voice was a singing waterfall. I thought about calling her. But I didn’t know what I wanted to ask her. Johnny had ruined it by telling me how Max had died. The only business item I could ask her was about Lorenzo’s death, but she was probably still working on that. Besides, her card was probably on my bedside table. Not doing me any good there. I should’ve memorized her number. Thinking of her kept me busy for a while. I hadn’t felt this way about a woman for some time. Yeah I can appreciate a woman’s physical attractiveness. And I might even get a little lusty. But I’m talking about something deeper here. Something not so much in the gut as in the chest. Something that stings the heart. And the only salve to that is the company of that person. But I’m digressing.
I crossed over the train tracks just south of Roscoe Boulevard to find myself riding over a train that seemed a mile long. It stretched from my left to right like some kids mechanical centipede. I dug into my glove compartment and started drifting into the right lane. A guy honked at me and I veered straight again. I shouldn’t be doing that while driving. He gunned it and passed me on the right generously pointing at something in the sky with his middle finger.
I thought I knew what he meant, but for a moment I wanted to ask him about it. Then I thought better and realized I had an appointment with a Leaf. Ma
ybe a whole tree. Maybe just a single stem, so I smiled at him and flicked my chin with the back of my hand. I’m not Italian but I like the way they talk with their hands. He glared at me harder as he passed and sped on down the road with his blood pressure higher than his tire pressure. I started to think about intentions. Butterfly’s wings creating tsunamis across the ocean. Maybe I should’ve offered him a smile instead. Sometimes I’m just not that magnanimous. Another day on the Los Angeles freeways and I didn’t have Mr. G riding shotgun with me. That might be a mistake. Thing is, I’m not really a gun guy. I keep forgetting it.
I turned onto the one eighteen like Johnny had recommended. The freeway that’s schizophrenic. By that I mean the freeway with many names. Sometimes it goes by Ronnie, sometimes it goes by Simi Valley and at other times you can just call it the San Fernando Valley freeway. But for me it’s the one eighteen. Less complicated. I liked this part of town, Chatsworth. Seemed newer and fresher, but the name was different. Not sure about the name. It was newer and fresher, partly because of all the fires that had burned through this part. Folks having to renovate and rebuild. But it had almost a country feel to it. Like you weren’t that far from nature. And truth is you weren’t.
I pulled up into the OceanRock apartment complex. Kind of reminds me of barracks. Square buildings surrounding a courtyard I imagine. There was ample visitor parking and I made use of it. I fished into my glove compartment and pulled out my LAPD badge. Not my real one. That I had to return. But one that I had bought online that looked pretty real, especially through a peephole. I got out of the car and tucked it into my back pocket. I walked up to the main entrance and found the mailboxes and confirmed that three oh three was Popinoff. That name made me smile. Maybe that’s why she was such a firecracker. Kids could have fun with a name like that. Hell, I could have fun with a name like that. Something like don’t go off pop Popinoff. But that’s me being unkind. I wouldn’t actually say something like that. Well maybe, but only if I wanted her to go ballistic. Sometimes you want some sparks. Some energy and fireworks in your interviews.
She was on the third floor in the wing I was in. I climbed up the three flights of stairs and found myself a little more winded than I would like. Leaf was at the end of the hallway. I knocked on her door. Determined and authoritative. But not too loud as to get the neighbors all nosey.
I waited a while and started counting. When I got to thirty I tried the door but it was locked. I knocked again. Then I heard a testy female voice saying just a minute. Fifteen seconds later, I was still counting, she asked who it was.
I fished out my fake badge and held it open to the peephole. I looked down the hall to give her my profile not the full view of my dashing good looks.
“LAPD ma’am,” I said.
“What do you want?” she asked opening up the door just a crack. I could see half her face. It was a pretty half for someone just having woken up.
“Sorry to wake you ma’am. The name’s Detective Carrick. Anthony Carrick and I’ve been sent here to investigate some apartment B and Es. Been working my way down here but nobody’s home except you. Can I ask you a few questions about any suspicious activity?”
“How do I know you’re a real cop? I mean you look like one but still.”
She was a smart one. She wasn’t making this easy for me.
“If it makes you feel better you can call the main line and you’ll find out. Or you can call my supervisor Captain John Roberts.”
She looked at me steadily, looking for a chink in my armor. But I was bulletproof. I had lied as a living in the LAPD. You had to. It was often your best tool. And besides, I was comfortable lying to her now. I’d had a practice run with Jade. I’d felt bad about that. But I was feeling alright about this one.
“Okay, come on in. But don’t try anything funky I’ve got a mean temper and a big pipe in my hand.” This was getting off to a good start. She was being honest.
I smiled my best aw shucks at her and walked in. She wasn’t lying about the pipe. She had a dull gray steel pipe hanging from her right hand like an appendage. Something like plumbers pipe. It was around two to two and a half feet long and about and inch or so in diameter. It was strictly business and I didn’t want to do business with it. She tapped it against her calf. Not on purpose to intimidate me but unconsciously. She had on a satin number that the models in Victoria’s Secret will tease you with. And she was teasing me in it. Not that she wanted to, just her body couldn’t help it. I think they call this number a babydoll, maybe on account of that’s how she looked. It was the color of blood and I felt mine beat at my temples. She had covered that carelessly with a gown. This one was more like velvet and deep blue. Like Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’. I felt overdressed.
I moved straight in down the entrance passing a galley kitchen on my right. I walked into the living room and down to the sliding doors that opened up to the balcony. I opened them up. A warm breeze caressed my cheek. I could’ve mistaken it for a woman’s hand. Outside was a courtyard like I’d suspected with a tennis court and swimming pool. The grounds were immaculate. Now I felt underdressed and under financed. This place would cost a small ransom. I was in the wrong business. Then again I wasn’t a woman. I turned round to see Leaf staring at me quizzically.
“You never told me your name,” I said. I was smiling at her with my hands thrust in pockets.
“So how come you don’t have a gun or notebook?” she asked.
“Because I’m bulletproof and have a photographic memory.” I increased the wattage in my smile. I was hoping to dazzle her. It worked. She smiled back.
“It’s Gretchen Popinoff,” she said, and she offered me her hand with a French manicure. I had an itch I wanted her to scratch. It was on my back and those nails would do nicely. I took her hand and gave it a couple of pumps.
“I’m gonna make some coffee. You want some?”
“Sure, that’d be nice,” I said.
She went into the kitchen for a while and made noises that suggested she was making coffee. After a while my guess became as good as a promise. I could smell the coffee percolating. She came back out and sat on a couch against the wall. I took the armchair next to the couch. A coffee table, square with a white doily on it was between us. She picked up a pack of cigarettes. Camel number nines. She lit one up and took a deep puff. Then she blew smoke at me. At least it wasn’t up my ass. She might have been flirting. I took my pack from my shirt pocket and did the same.
“So what do you want to know duhtective?” she asked. She emphasized the ‘duh’ part. I had a suspicion she didn’t like cops much. I’d try and correct that.
“Please, you can call me Anthony.”
“Okay, so what do you want Anthony?” She puffed on her cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling, jutting out her lower jaw. I blew smoke rings at her and shut my one eye to look at her through them. I then gestured with my cigarette hand like a gun. Gotcha in my sights I was suggesting. She smiled like I was being childish and a bore.
“Have you ever noticed how sometimes the leaves in the trees shiver when it’s cold?”
She didn’t say anything. She looked at me then and I bet she was thinking she should’ve kept her pipe instead of putting it back by the door when she went to the kitchen.
“I think coffee’s ready,” she said.
“Milk and sugar please,” I said.
She got up and went into the kitchen. When she came back she didn’t have any coffee. I wasn’t expecting it then. She had the pipe in her hand and she was threatening me with it. By now I was standing up.
“What the fuck do you want?” she asked.
“Settle down,” I said. “I just want to ask you about Max that’s all.”
“You’re not a fucking cop you bastard. You lying bastard. You get the fuck out of here now.”
I didn’t move. My hands were up, palms facing each other like I was trying to show her how big the fish was that I’d caught. But it was a slippery one and it was sure tug
ging hard at the line.
“I just want to talk to you,” I said.
“Fuck you, you get out of here now.” This wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped. She came at me and swung the pipe for my head. I moved in quicker than she expected and caught her wrist with my upper arm. Up by the shoulder. The pipe tapped me gently on the back as she lost her grip on it. I heard it make a dull thud on the carpet. I spun around behind her, intertwining my left arm with her right. I was behind her with her right arm at an awkward and uncomfortable angle. I grabbed her left wrist and held it down by her side. I was up tight against her. I could feel her firm bum against my groin. I could smell apples in her hair and the stale aroma of tobacco. There was also the musty smell of sleep. My left cheek was brushing the top right of her head. Her hair was warm and soft like silk. I could see her bosom thrust out and her chest heaving. We were both breathing hard. Her nipples were firm erasers under her lingerie.
“I just want to talk to you,” I said. Though if she wasn’t such a firecracker and I wasn’t a gentleman there were other things that came to mind I’d like to do with her.
Her breath was still hard and then softened.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
I let her go and I picked up the pipe and rested it against the armchair I sat back down in. She looked at me hotly. Her eyes were black and smoldering. We’d gotten all worked up and passionate about nothing. I looked at her and swallowed hard. I was fighting the feeling she’d given me. A lustful feeling. I could see how I guy could fall for her.
“Milk and sugar please,” I said to her, sticking my fake smile back on my face. A little lopsided this time. She turned and went back into the kitchen.
She came back with two mugs of coffee. One had the name of an engineering firm on it. That one she gave to me. She sat back down and picked up her cigarette from the ashtray. At least our smokes had been living peacefully nose to nose. I let mine linger there a little longer.
Anthony Carrick Hardboiled Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3) Page 23